Chapter 9
"More Than Just a Princess"
The idea that General Picton thinks that Princesses don't belong in the kitchen was absolute nonsense in my point of view. But it's important to remember that I spent a good deal of my life in the kitchen, being a servant to my stepfamily. If Bordeaux could tolerate me rolling up my sleeves, why not Windsor castle?"
"Okay, that should do it," I said, adding two eggs to a cake batter that I was preparing. "I hope the Duke of Wellington likes chocolate. Oh Jaq, could you bring over the two cups of water?"
"Sure thing, Cinderelly," Jaq replied as Gus and Mary helped him carry the water over to me. "Here you go."
"Thank you."
Once the batter was put together, I went about preparing it to go into the large oven. This was going to be my introduction to the Duke of Wellington and everything had to be perfect…well, mostly at least.
Just then, I heard the door knock and in stepped my father-in-law, King Maximillan, his sweet tooth clearly showing, clad in his pajamas.
"You know the cake is for tomorrow," I remarked jokingly to him.
"Of course, of course, Cinderella," he chuckled. "I was just looking for a midnight snack after a long voyage. Why are you baking so late?"
"General Picton made a remark today about that princesses don't belong in the kitchen. So, I'm trying to prove him wrong by making this cake for tomorrow night."
Maximilian was taking slightly aback by this remark.
"He said that, Cinderella?" he gasped, turning his attention away from the pantry. "Well, the nerve of that man! You cook in our kitchen back in Bordeaux and no one has complained…well, except Prudence, of course. But that's besides the point. We all have to make the best of a bad situation and this is how you cope."
As I placed the batter in the oven, I knew that my father-in-law was right about one thing: this was how I coped whenever I was in a difficult situation. Having been verbally abused for most of my life, this was one of the many ways to channel those thoughts.
"Kingie," said Jaq, catching his attention. "Cinderelly didn't deserve to be talked to like that."
"No she didn't Jaq," he sighed. "But, just remember one thing, Cinderella. That General Picton is only one Englishman, I'm sure everyone else in the kingdom will be more than welcoming to us. Besides, I think he's one of those who doesn't wear his uniform all the time."
I couldn't help but chuckle slightly. After King Maximillian was like my own father, wise and humorous.
"Well, I'd better be getting back to bed," he said, taking a baguette with him. "After all, we have a meeting with the Duke of Wellington tomorrow."
Once he had gone, I focused on finding something else to do to help take my mind off the cards we had been dealt with. England is our ally, but not all of her children were going to be friendly to visitors like myself. Surely that there were other subjects that I could connect or relate to?
…
Meanwhile, up in Edinburgh, Lefou and Stanley were brought into the Barracks of the Gordon Highlanders as the kilt wearing soldiers looked at them.
"Who is this, your grace?" remarked a Highlander in a thick Scottish accent.
"Lads, these are two new recruits who will be joining us," the Duke of Gordon announced presenting Lefou and Stanley to the regiment. "Lefou and Stanley."
"I've never seen them before, sir," remarked another Highlander. "Are they new here?"
"They are French, Wiggins," answered the Duke of Gordon. "Defectors against Napoleon himself. As an added bonus, they have knowledge of our swords dance which they will demonstrate tomorrow for his highness, the Duke of Wellington."
The rest of the regiment gave a blank stare to which both Lefou and Stanley gave uncomfortable looks at one another.
"Now, if you'll excuse us, lads," said the Duke of Gordon. "I think it's time to get your new comrades into uniform. Come with me."
Once they had left the barracks, Lefou and Stanley were brought to an open space where a quartermaster was preparing a pump of water.
"I trust you'll be washing us," said Stanley, as he started to undo his shirt. "I could use it."
"Me too," added Lefou as he also started undressing. "Is the water warm?"
"Well, you might say it's…" the Duke of Gordon started to say as two buckets of cold water were thrown at the two naked Frenchmen. "Cold. You see, you must be willing to embrace the possibility of fighting in all kinds of weather. The Gordon Highlanders will do whatever it takes to obtain glory."
"Let's play the game, Stanley," whispered Lefou. "This water can't be worse than Gaston was."
But more and more buckets of cold water were thrown at them as the Duke of Gordon worked on getting them molded as a member of his regiment. Once they were washed, Lefou and Stanley were taken to the tailor's and given their uniform: a red tunic, a tartan green kilt, stockings and boots.
"Well done, lads," chuckled the Duke of Gordon as he admired his new recruits in their Highland garb. "Welcome to the Gordon Highlanders. Now, get some rest. You'll have a lot of work to do tomorrow."
But to LeFou and Stanley, it didn't really matter. For as far as they were concerned, they were wearing the uniform of the Highlanders, the place where they belonged.
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