A Rose for A Rose

Cinderella's carriage came to a halt outside the palace. From the window, Cinderella could see Augustina Dubois waiting for her, her hands clasped in front of her and a slight, barely noticeable smiled playing across her face. She curtsied as Cinderella dismounted from the coach.

"Your Highness," she said. "I trust that you had a nice time."

Cinderella hesitated. "Yes," she said after a moment. "Yes, Princess Frederica was...she wasn't what I expected, but she was very nice."

"I see," Augustina replied, her tone giving nothing away. "Is there anything that you require, highness? Is there any way that you would like us to entertain you?"

Cinderella blinked. "Entertain me?"

"We are your ladies in waiting, your highness, we wait upon your pleasure," Augustina said calmly. "We can play cards with you, or tennis or croquet or the like if you would rather, read to you, sing for you - some of us, anyway, between you and me Theodora has a voice like a raven with a sore throat when she sings but please keep that to yourself - even put on an extempore play for your amusement if you wish. Or we could just sit quietly in your presence in case you require anything from us."

Cinderella said nothing for a moment. Never, not even when she was very young and her father had given her every luxury and comfort, had she ever had people at her command who would do anything that she asked them too. Nor was she at all sure that she wanted them. She wanted company, certainly, friends, but no one would ever treat their friends the way that Augustina was suggesting that she could treat her ladies in waiting.

"What if I just wanted you to talk to me?" she asked.

Augustina tilted her head slightly. "What would you like to talk about, your highness?"

Cinderella smiled nervously. "I think...would it be all right if I told you that I wanted to be alone for a little while."

Augustina bowed her head. "Of course, your highness, we serve at your pleasure."

Cinderella was about to say something else, before she was interrupted by the sound of a shout coming from the gardens. It was an excited shout, lively and loud, and accompanied by the sound of metal clashing on metal, heavily and with great frequency, a rising cacophony of steel on steel.

"What's that noise?" Cinderella asked.

Augustina looked in the direction of the sounds. "Some of the young officers of the guard and the battalions stationed around the capital are practicing their swordplay in the garden. I believe that Prince Eugene has just joined them."

"Eugene?" Cinderella gasped, feeling her heart flutter a little at the heart of her husband engaged in a swordfight. "Is that safe?"

"I honestly don't know whether they're using blunted weapons or not, your highness," Augustina confessed. "But His Highness is one of the finest swordsmen in Armorique, so you needn't worry."

"He is?"

"Did you not know, your highness?" Augustina asked.

"No," Cinderella murmured looking anxiously towards the source of the sound of fencing as she prayed that he would be alright.

Augustina smiled kindly. "Would your highness like to go and see? It might put your mind at ease to realise that they are not hacking one another to death for sport. This is practice, not a duel."

Cinderella smiled nervously, unable to escape the thought of her beloved Eugene lying dead or wounded, with some savage figure with a bloody sword standing forward. "If you wouldn't mind, thank you Augustina."

Augustina led her around the side of the imposing palace. On a grassy square, corned by tall evergreens, a group of men where sparring with sabres and epees. Some fought in pairs, but far more were standing around watching Eugene fence with his friend Etienne. Etienne was slightly taller, with a longer reach, but Eugene was so swift that Cinderella could barely follow him, and he drove Etienne backwards time and again before letting him come on so that he could be driven back once more.

"Look at his feet, your highness," Augustina whispered as she and Cinderella watched unobtrusively. "My father says that if you want to get the measure of a swordsman you should look at his feet, look at how precise his movements are, how certain his poise. He's quite magnificent."

Cinderella did not look at Eugene's feet. Her attention was on his face as he smiled and laughed as he battled against the man who was, as far as Cinderella could tell, his greatest friend in all the world.

Isn't he afraid, not even a little.

Eugene seemed to be enjoying himself, and Cinderella could not understand it, not one bit.

With a flourish, Eugene swept the blade out of Etienne's hand. The watching crowd began to applaud as the two combatants bowed to one another and shook hands.

"Applaud, your highness," Augustina murmured.

"I'm sorry?"

"You must applaud, your highness," Augustina repeated. "It is expected."

Cinderella pursed her lips slightly as she began to clap, though her hands felt as heavy as the leaden feeling in her stomach. A moment later Augustina began to applaud as well, a little louder than Cinderella herself.

Eugene looked her way. "Cinderella!" he said loudly, his face lighting up with a smile at the sight of her, and he approached her, with Etienne only a few steps behind him. Eugene's hair was slick and wet, his white shirt was sticking to his body in places from the sweat of his exertions, and his face looked as though it had been doused in water more than once.

"I would embrace you, darling," Eugene said. "But I'm afraid that I would ruin your dress with my sweat."

"Then you can give me a kiss instead," Cinderella said brightly, leaning forward and holding out her hands. Eugene took them in his own, his fingertips lightly brushing against her lace cuffs as his pressed firmly against hers.

Etienne bowed formally. "Your highness. Mademoiselle Dubois."

"Good afternoon, Etienne," Cinderella said.

"Colonel." Augustina curtsied.

"Do you enjoy watching the swordsman's art, highness?" Etienne asked. "If you do, I have several skilled men who would be happy to perform for your entertainment."

"That's very kind, Etienne, but I'm afraid I only wanted to see what the noise was," Cinderella replied. "Especially once Augustina told me that you were here, Eugene."

"I have to keep in practice the same as any other man," Eugene said lightly. "Being a prince does not exempt me."

"Doesn't it?" Cinderella asked. "But there are so many other men who can fight-"

"And why should they, if I will not," Eugene said, a little sharply. "Do you think I'm a coward, is that who you think you married?"

Cinderella's mouth opened a little, but no words came out. He was not very angry, but this was the first time she had seen him angry at all. Obviously she had said the wrong thing. "I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

Eugene sighed. "No, Cinderella, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have raised my voice. I just...I would like you to think better of me than that."

Cinderella frowned. "Why should I think any less of you?"

"You do not understand, princess, because you are a woman," Etienne said. "And women, though they may be the keepers of their own honour, are not its guardians. A lady's reputation may be championed by her husband, her father, even her brothers if she has them, but a man is solely responsible for the maintenance of his own dignity, and so his sword must be ever ready to leap from its scabbard to avenge an insult to his honour."

"Or his lady's," Eugene said with a smile.

Is that supposed to impress me? Cinderella wondered. The thought of Eugene being hurt or killed in a fight of which she was the cause did nothing but make her feel sick. "But aren't you afraid?"

"No," Eugene said at once. "What will be will be."

"I see," Cinderella murmured. "Well...good luck. I shall see you for dinner then."

"Yes," Eugene said, kissing her on the cheek. "Goodbye, darling."

"Goodbye," Cinderella whispered, and allowed Augustina to guide her back to the steps leading up to the front doors of the palace.

"If you will permit, highness, did you not know that gentlemen behaved this way?"

"I don't understand why anyone would behave that way," Cinderella said. "Doesn't Eugene realise that he could die in some silly duel?"

"Perhaps he might, one day, your highness," Augustina replied. "But if he was thought to be afraid to fight then that would dishonour him."

"What is honour?" Cinderella demanded. "If he should fall will it comfort me to know that he was honourable to the last? Can honour kiss him like I can? Can honour sing to him, share his bed, give him children?"

"Honour is a mere scutcheon," Augustina murmured. "And so ends my catechism."

Cinderella frowned. "Was that a quote?"

"Shakespeare, Your Highness, Henry the Fourth Part One," Augustina said. "Though, far be it from me to contravene the Bard or Sir John, I think that are honour will live on in the hearts of men when we are gone. With respect, your highness, do you still remember your father?"

Cinderella was taken aback by the question, but she answered nonetheless. "Of course."

"You remember his good qualities, no?" Augustina asked. "My brother, Francois, lost his life in a duel, yet I remember him for a good and brave man."

"Wouldn't you rather have a living brother than a memory of courage?" Cinderella asked.

"We all must depart this place, your highness, but if we live virtuously then we may leave a legacy behind us that will live on with the living," Augustina said.

"Hmm," Cinderella murmured. "I don't know if I agree with you, but thank you for trying to explain it to me."

Augustina curtsied. "I do my duty, your highness. Good day."

"Good day, Augustina," Cinderella said as she climbed the steps into the palace and, from there, climbed the even more steps up into her room.

Her bed chamber was empty: the maids were gone, her ladies in waiting were elsewhere, there did not appear to be another human being anywhere in the vicinity.

That, to be honest, was how Cinderella wanted it right now.

Two things looked different about her room from the way she had left it in the morning. First, a box had been left on her dressing table: it was of a moderate size, and red, with what looked like a leather or velvet lining. It had a golden clasp holding it shut, and a pink ribbon was tied around it into a pretty little bow, complete with a card attached.

And on her bed, sitting atop the pillow, someone had left a single rose, as red as blood and with thorns as sharp as knives. Next to it was a note.

Cinderella picked up the rose, her fingers deftly avoiding the sharp thorns, and sniffed the scent of it delicately as she sat down upon the bed.

"Who's it from, Cinderelly?"

"Jaq! Gus! Everyone," Cinderella cried out as the mice began to emerge out of a small hole under the dressing table. They stood in a rough semi-circle around her bed, all staring up at her, her dear, dear friends. "Come on up, all you, don't be afraid. We're alone here now."

They scrambled up the poles of the four poster bed to squat down on her silken sheets.

"Soft-soft," Gus exclaimed.

"One of the perks of being a princess, I think," Cinderella said with a smile.

"Pretty flower, Cinderelly," Suzy said. "Who put it there?"

"I don't know," Cinderella said. "Probably the same person who left this note." She picked up the folded piece of paper that had been left beside the rose, and held it on her lap as she tried to read it. Her reading was, she was a little afraid to admit, not that impressive, her lessons had been ended before most young ladies her age, and her life as a servant had not given her many opportunities to improve her skills in that regard. As a result, she struggled over some of the words, and probably mangled the pronunciations of half of them, before she got to the end.

"Lesbia," she began. "How many kisses of yours,

Would be enough and more to satisfy me?

As many as the grains of Libyan sand,

That lie between hot Jupiter's oraklee... hot Jupiter's oracle,

At...Ammon...in resin-producing Syrenee,

And old Ba...old Ba...old Batty-a-dess' sacred tomb,

Or as many as the stars, when night is still,

Gazing down on human secret desires,

As many of your kisses kissed,

Are enough, and more, for mad Catullus,

As can't be counted by spies,

Nor an evil tongue bewitch us."

Gus frowned. "Uh...what it mean, Cinderelly."

"I don't quite know, Gus," Cinderella murmured. "But it sounded beautiful in places...as many kisses as the stars." She sighed. "It must be from Eugene, he's so sweet, even though I'm afraid some of that was wasted on me." She set both rose and note aside. "It's turning out that I don't know any of the things I need to know, and I don't know most of the things that it would be good for me to know either. I'm sure that Augustina or Serena would have known how to say all those words, and who Catullus was and what the poem means. I can't even understand all of it."

"You'll get it, Cinderelly," Jaq said. "You'll get all of it."

Cinderella looked at each one of them in turn. "You are the most loyal and faithful friends that anyone could wish for, and I love you all. With all my heart, I love you. Don't forget that, and don't let me forget it either. Now, enough about my troubles, listen to me sitting in this tower in this glittering palace in this lovely dress complaining about how hard my life is, how are you all? Are you alright?"

"Cat-cat's here quicker than Lucifee," Gus said plaintively. "Night-night he fast like storm blow whoosh!"

"He hasn't hurt anyone, has he?" Cinderella asked anxiously.

"Not yet, Cinderelly," Jaq said. "But he not just fast, he smart too. He knows when to be in the kitchen, in the morning, and the evening, and there always people there too."

"Make it real hard to get food," another mouse said.

"Getting hungry sometime, Cinderelly."

"Hungry?" Cinderella asked. "Well, I think I can fix that." She reached out and pulled the bellpull hanging down beside the bed. "Now, all of you hide under the bed until I tell you that it's safe to come out."

The mice scurried under the bed. A few moments later there was a knock on the bedroom door.

"Your Highness, may I come in?" Constance asked.

Cinderella stood up. "Of course, Constance."

Constance opened the door, her eyes looking down at the hem of Cinderella's skirt as she curtsied. "What can I do for you, Your Highness?"

"Could you bring me something to eat from the kitchens, please?"

Constance frowned. "Food, your highness, but you never...I mean, of course, your highness, is there anything in particular?"

"Fruit and cheese, please," Cinderella said.

Constance blinked. "Of course, your highness, I'll bring it up directly."

She curtsied again, and closed the door behind her.

Cinderella sat back down on the bed again. "Did you hear that? Your dinner will be served directly."

"Thanks-thanks, Cinderelly," Jaq said as he emerged from underneath the bed.

"What's the point of being a princess if I can't help my friends," Cinderella said. "I would try and get rid of that awful cat, but I don't know if I can, or if it would bring up too many questions."

"It okay, Cinderelly," Jaq replied. "We can keep one step ahead of dumb old cat. Don't worry."

Suzy climbed up onto the dressing table. "What's this, Cinderelly?" She tapped the red velvet box.

"I don't know," Cinderella said, crossing the room over the table and running one hand over the surface of the box. It had the feel of something that was old but well looked after, a little bumped and battered but still in good condition, and soft under her fingertips. She read the note aloud. "To my beautiful wife, nothing here is as lovely as you, but they help you to look lovelier still, Eugene." She smiled. "Hmm, why did he leave me two notes? And why not leave the rose with the box? Oh well, I suppose I should see what's inside." She sat down at the table, pulled the ribbon off the box and opened it up. As she did so, she gasped aloud as the reflected light sparkled upon her face.

The box was full of jewellery. So many jewels, more than Cinderella had ever seen before in her entire life. And so beautiful too. There had been times, when she had gone into town to do the shopping for her stepmother, when she had looked into the window of the jeweller's shop, marvelling at the beauty of the rings, the necklaces, the bracelets. But the adornments that she beheld just inches away from her hands put those she had seen in the city to shame. She had diamond necklaces, diamond bracelets, diamond rings, sapphires, rubies, emeralds, chokers of black and blue and green, some of them hung with diamond or emerald studs. There were gold bangles, broaches worked in delicate patterns, beautiful tiaras. There were even more pearls, large and small and in between. She could wear different jewellery every day, without a single day where she wore none of it, and it would be half a year at least before she wore the same thing again.

"Beautiful, Cinderelly," Suzy said. "Real pretty."

"Yes," Cinderella murmured. "It is beautiful." Gently, she closed the box. "There are times when I don't know if I deserve this."

"Not deserve it?" Jaq asked. "What you mean?"

"I'm just a girl," Cinderella said. "I'm not a lady, not really. I don't understand honour, or etiquette or history or literature. I can't recognise that poem in Eugene's note. How can I do anything of the things that I should do, that I need to do to be more than a burden on Eugene. Can I do anything besides wear these? Or sweep the floor?"

Jaq climbed up one of the table legs onto the dressing table. "It not matter that you don't know poems, Cinderelly. It not matter that you that don't know things. It not even matter that you pretty. It matter that you kind, and got good heart. That's why prince love you, because that why we love you too. That why everybody gonna love you. You'll see. You be greatest princess ever."

Cinderella shook her head. "You're very-" There was a knock on the door. "Hide," Cinderella hissed.

The mice scurried into cover.

"Is that you, Constance?"

"Yes, your highness."

"Come in," Cinderella said.

Constance walked in backwards, bearing a heavy silver tray laden with cheese, grapes, apple slices and cherries. "Is this satisfactory, your highness?"

"Very much so, Constance," Cinderella replied. "Leave it on the floor, please."

Constance blinked. "On the...yes, of course highness." She placed the platter down on the floor by the bed. "Will there be anything else, highness?"

"Not right now, thank you Constance," Cinderella said.

"Very good, highness, I'll be back when it is time to get you ready for dinner," Constance said, curtsying herself out.

Once she had shut the door, the mice began to emerge into the light once again.

Cinderella gestured towards the feast. "Bon appétit."

At about six o'clock, Cinderella's maids and ladies in waiting arrived to help her get ready for dinner. Several of them glanced curiously at the platter of food, now picked absolutely clean, but no one said anything about it as Paulette took the silver tray away. Constance and Lucille - the third of Cinderella's maids - helped her wash and dress in a light blue evening gown. As the maids bathed her, dressed her and arranged her hair into a bun on top of her head, Theodora explained to Cinderella the king's habitual custom for dining.

"His Majesty very rarely dines with only his family in attendance," she said, from where she leaned against the french windows out onto the balcony, her arms folded across her chest, her tone clipped and perfunctory. "He will more often that not have some important dignitary to dinner with him, and with you as well now, your highness. Generally this will be one of his ministers, sometimes a general or an admiral, and upon occasion a foreign ambassador. In this way he keeps himself informed about the governance of the realm and the business of the state. Tonight it will be Monsieur Danjou, the Minister of Finance."

"Jumped up little clerk," Serena muttered. "To think that a man of his background is one of the king's ministers. It shames our country."

"Surely it only matters that he is good at his job," Cinderella said, as Constance tucked a blue hairband over her head and beneath the curls of her bun.

Serena scowled. "My grandfather was Minister of Finance to King Louis IX, and now this man of no family, who comes from whence no one knows, struts about the same department that has been run by some of Armorique's great families. It demeans the office."

Cinderella closed her mouth. Hearing Serena speak had reminded her of how little she knew about this world that she had entered into. And could not the same be said of her as of Monsieur Danjou? Did she not, after all, sit in the same chambers that had been home to the scions of some of Armorique's great families? Did she demean her office?

She tried to put the idea from her mind as she put on her jewellery: the pearl necklace she had got at the end of her honeymoon, and the tighter of her two pearl bracelets around her right wrist, along with her ever-present engagement and wedding rings, and two blue earrings so large that, together with her hair and her headband they completely hid her ears from view. She examined herself critically in the mirror.

"How do I look?" she asked.

"Quite beautiful, your highness, if I may," Constance said.

"Indeed, your highness," Serena said slowly. "As beautiful as Quintia."

Augustina's eyes narrowed.

Cinderella didn't understand the reference, so she said, "Thank you, Serena."

Serena smiled thinly.

Cinderella bid her ladies and her maids goodnight, and started downstairs towards the dining room. The sky was darkening outside - it was by now nearly half past seven - and the servants were starting to light candles in the stairways and the corridors. They bowed or curtsied to Cinderella as she walked by.

She came to a dark corridor, where there was no candles lit. The suits of armour standing against the wall cast long shadows, and the curtains loomed heavily above her.

Cinderella shook her head, and told herself she was imagining things as she strode down the corridor, holding her dress up with one hand so she did not trip over it.

She did not, however, imagine the sound of someone moving behind her.

"Hello?" Cinderella asked, a trifle nervousness creeping into her voice, turning around. "Is someone there?"

There was no response.

Cinderella's brow furrowed a little, and she turned back towards her intended destination, only to nearly walk right into the man who had suddenly appeared right in front of her.

"Oh! You startled me," Cinderella gasped, taking a step backwards.

"My deepest apologies, princess," he said, drawing out her title with a relish that was almost lascivious. He was a lean, dark man, with bright green eyes set in a delicate face. He took her left hand in his - gripping it a little tighter than was necessary - and brushed his lips against her knuckles. "My honour, princess; Captain Wolfe Kilpatrick at your service."

"A pleasure to meet you, Captain Kilpatrick," Cinderella murmured. She tried to take back her hand, but his grip on her wrist was too tight to simply slip free of his grasp.

"Please, call me Wolfe," he said, a very wolf-like smile spreading across his features.

"I don't think I know you well enough," Cinderella replied. She tugged at her hand in his grip. "Would you please let go of my hand? I have to go to dinner."

"You have to?" Kilpatrick asked. "Would you rather not?"

"No, of course not," Cinderella replied. She could feel herself getting flustered, her cheeks were heating up even as a cold feeling was beginning to grip her stomach. "Please let go."

Kilpatrick's green eyes glanced down at her ring finger, where the diamond upon her engagement ring sparkled even in the darkness in the midst of its sapphire attendants. "Your finger is beautifully dressed, princess; but I wager it would be even more beautiful naked."

Cinderella was not a well educated young lady, she could not spot a Shakespeare quote or recognise a poem, but she knew well enough what Kilpatrick was really saying. "I am a married woman."

"And if every woman who placed a wedding ring upon her finger was by magic turned into a hag then that would matter, but it is not so," Kilpatrick said softly. "You have bewitched me, body and soul."

"That was not my intent."

"Yet it is your achievement."

"You do not even know me."

"I need not know you for your beauty to strike me down as a thunderbolt from heaven," Kilpatrick said. "One glance at your eyes, brighter than moonlight, one look at your smile are enough to make me desire your kisses. As many kisses as the stars, when night is still, gazing down on human secret desires."

Cinderella's eyes widened, and she would have backed away if Kilpatrick had not been holding onto her wrist. "You left that poem in my room."

Kilpatrick nodded. "Of that, I confess myself guilty."

Cinderella sighed, feeling calmer now, her initial shock subsiding. She had never expected that something like this would happen, but now that it had that lack of expectation suddenly seemed rather naive of her. After all, as Kilpatrick had said, being married did not make a person any less attractive. Had Eugene married Augustina or Theodora or Serena he would he still have been the most handsome man that Cinderella had ever set eyes upon, and though Cinderella would not have sought him regardless of that fact, it was not fair to sit in judgement of those who did not act as she did. She was not a prig, to look down upon the world for not following in every detail her behaviour. She was, she hoped, better than that, kinder and wiser. She resolved to be gentle to Captain Kilpatrick, even as she explained things to him clearly.

Cinderella smiled. "That was...very sweet of you, Captain Kilpatrick, and I am flattered that you hold me in such high regard, but it can never be. I am a married woman, I love my husband with all of my heart as he loves me, and I know with all the certainty of fate itself that I will never love another man, I cannot; there is no room in my heart for any other. It cannot be.

"Put me from your thoughts. You will find someone else to love, I am certain of it; someone kind and beautiful, someone meant for you. When you find her you will know, as I did, but I am not that girl. I have been found already."

Kilpatrick grinned. When he spoke he seemed almost amused. "I understand you perfectly, princess, and beg your pardon." He let go of her wrist, which fell to Cinderella's side at once. "I apologise for bothering you. Will you tell the prince of this."

"No," Cinderella said, shaking her head kindly. "Of course not. I don't think there's any reason to, do you?"

"No," Kilpatrick replied, sounding more amused than ever now. "I apologise once more. Good evening, Princess Cinderella."

"Good evening, Captain Kilpatrick," Cinderella replied, as she continued on her way towards the dining hall.

"So," Theodora said, clapping her hands together. "Serena, Gussie, first hand experience of our new princess. Tell all!"

Augustina shrugged. "What is there to tell? She went up to her room as soon as she returned."

"Antisocial then?" Hortense said.

"I don't think so," Augustina replied. "She is never cold when she is actually around. I think...I think she doesn't know how to be social. Truth to tell I think we intimidate her."

"Oh, no," Christine murmured. "What can we do to make her feel more welcome?"

"It isn't our job to make her feel welcome," Hortense said sharply. "We're her ladies in waiting, not her friends."

"But we're meant to offer her companionship," Christine protested.

"Only if she wants it," Hortense said. "I'm not so desperate to associate with her that I will force myself upon her presence."

"So nothing happened at all, then?" Theodora asked, sounding disappointed.

"She doesn't like fencing very much," Augustina said. "Or think much of the idea of duelling."

Theodora wrinkled her nose. "Why on earth not?"

"Because people die."

"People die at sea, it isn't an argument against sailing," Theodora replied. "Is she an idiot, do you think?"

"No, I think she sees things with a different eye than the rest of us, on account of not being brought up as a noble," Augustina said, shifting a little in her seat. "Think how strange the way our tenant farmers live seems to us, and imagine how strange our ways must seem to them. It's a little like that."

"Or she's an idiot," Serena murmured. "Certainly that was my impression."

"Ah, yes, you had her all morning, didn't you?" Theodora said, turning in her seat to better see Serena. "Not good, I take it."

"She's ignorant and lazy," Serena said.

"Fortunately for you," Augustina remarked. "Or she would have spotted that little reference for the insult it was. As beautiful as Quintia, really?"

Serena smiled. "Come, Augustina, would anyone in their right mind really say that our little Cinderella has any sex appeal?"

"I wouldn't know, I prefer snails to oysters," Augustina said. "But if she is Quintia...that would make you Lesbia, I take it?"

Serena's smile widened. "Can you think of anyone better suited to the part? You, perhaps?"

"Oh no, I would never be as conceited as all that," Augustina murmured. "I'll leave that to you."

Constance glanced at the clock on the wall of the maids' quarters. "What time do you think we should go back to her room?"

"She won't be done with dinner for a few hours yet, most likely," Paulette replied. "And when she wants us to help her get ready for bed, she'll ring."

"It would be better if we were there waiting for her," Constance said.

"Better for who?"

"Better for us if we don't want to get dismissed for idleness," Constance said loudly. "I need this money."

"Everyone needs money," Lucille said. "In fact if anyone here needs money it's me so I can stay in this game."

The maids' chamber was a small room, mostly taken up by the three beds for Constance, Paulette and Lucille, and the chests that held their clothes and few possessions. There was, however, enough room for a small round table around which Paulette and Lucille sat playing cards. A pile of money in small coinage sat on Paulette's side of the table, while a few coppers loitered in front of Lucille. Constance sat on her chest, watching the game.

"You shouldn't gamble," Constance muttered.

"Why not?" Paulette muttered.

"Because it's immoral," Constance said firmly. "It leads to sin and misery."

"If you want to talk like a nun, go to a nunnery," Lucille growled. "Otherwise, tell me what kind of a hand Paulette has." Lucille had a plain face and black hair, and sharp eyes that were staring furiously at her hand of cards. It had been Lucille's idea to play tonight, although her performance demonstrated that her zeal for gaming far outstripped her skill at it.

"Stop stalling," Paulette said. "In or out?"

Lucille pushed her remaining coins into the centre of the table. "All in."

Paulette pushed a few of her coins into the centre pot. "Call."

Lucille put down four kings on the table. "Hah!"

Paulette smirked as she laid down four aces. "Ha-hah," she said mockingly. "I think we're done for the night."

"Oh, no we're not," Lucille said. "Draw another hand."

"What for, you've got nothing left to bet," Paulette said.

"Oh, haven't I?" Lucille asked as she tossed a pearl bracelet onto the table.

Constance's face went as pale as the sheet on her bed. "That's the princess bracelet! You stole it!"

"Have you seen how many bracelets she's got in that box?" Lucille demanded. "It isn't as if she'll miss one."

"That doesn't mean you can just take things from her jewellery box," Constance cried. "If you get caught you'll be sacked, at best. And if they find out that we knew then we'll be sacked."

"Tell on me and I'll say it was you who took it and we'll both be out on our ears," Lucille said.

"Why?" Paulette asked. "It isn't as though you can wear it?"

"I know," Lucille replied sharply. "I'm going to pawn it, and when I get my money back I'll get it back from the pawn shop and put it back in the jewellery before she realises it's missing."

"Maybe," Paulette said sceptically. "But you haven't pawned it yet, and I'm not playing with that stake."

"Why not?"

"Because it's so hot I'd have to wear gloves to pick it up," Paulette replied. "No, we're done for tonight."

"Aww, come on, just one more hand."

"No."

A/N: Originally Cinderella was going to be more hostile towards Kilpatrick, but I realised that that was the authorial foreknowledge talking and that it would be more in character for Cinderella to try and let him down gently to start off with.

The poem that Kilpatrick left on her pillow is Catullus' Seventh, while Serena's reference to Quintia comes from Catullus 86:

Many think Quintia's beautiful. She's tall

And well-proportioned and her skin is white.

I grant her these good points, but I won't call

Her 'beautiful'. She has one fatal fault-

No sex-appeal: there's not a grain of salt

In that big dish to stir the appetite.

Lesbia is beautiful- not only blessed,

With better looks than other girls, but dressed

In the mystery she's stolen from the rest.

You can see why Augustina recognises it as a tacit insult.