Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales #3)(62)
“I can take over caring for the princess now,” Amelie says, looking more like a protective mother hen than my maid. “It’s best you retire to your room, Your Highness. You barely had a rest after you returned.”
“Wait…” I say. “Amelie, are you also staying here?”
She doesn’t blink. “Yes.”
“But the palace…Katriona Bradshaw…”
“I resigned,” Amelie says simply. “Because I cannot simper and follow her every command.”
“But Mabel…how is she?”
Amelie looks guilty at that. “I am sorry that I left her with the other lady, but there are other servants. Mabel will be able to handle Lady Katriona.”
Oh my God. I cannot believe it. In a short time, I have gone from heaven to hell, and then back to heaven. Since Katriona Bradshaw is already married to a Moryn farmer, she’ll have no choice but agree to a divorce. And once Edward is free to remarry…we will achieve that elusive happy ending.
30
Kat
Bright sunlight streams through the window, filling the room with a golden liquid glow. Never before have I so appreciated a window in the room. And the polished floors, solid walls, well-maintained fireplace—all contribute to a warm, dry room that’s heavenly compared to the cell room I’ve spent in the past few days. Objectively speaking it was only a few days, but it seemed like a month. I’ve experienced Einstein’s theory of relativity firsthand.
The guest bedroom in Henry’s house is a bower of luxury, though it’s no comparison to my suite in the palace. It is the first comfortable bedroom I’ve occupied since I came back to Athelia this time, which is why I’ve slept in.
There’s a satin wrap the color of heliotropes draped over a chair. I pull it around my nightgown and pad across the bedroom. While Edward won’t approve of my wandering around the house in the wrap and nightgown, I need Amelie’s help if I am to wear my old clothes she brought from the palace.
Tiptoeing down the stairs, I wonder where Amelie is. The house is so quiet it seems unoccupied. I guess when Edward decided to borrow Henry’s place, he didn’t (or didn’t have time to) bring all the servants back. Knowing Edward, he’s unlikely to want an army of servants around—he’d use as few as we can manage.
A growl from my stomach makes me change my purpose: find the kitchen instead. Having being to Henry’s house quite a few times, especially since I got engaged to Edward, I have a fairly good idea where the kitchen is. I find the dining room first, and from there I call to my memory the direction where servants used to appear from, carrying wine and food, and in little time I approach a large room where pots and pans are hanging on the wall. Despite the gnawing hunger, I pause. Amelie and Bertram are in the kitchen. Alone.
What are they doing? Curious, I press my ear against the wall.
“No, you can’t have the last loaf of bread,” Amelie is saying, her tone exasperated. I bet she has her hands planted on her hips. “Princess Kat isn’t up yet, and she’ll want a nicely grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich when she’s awake. His Highness said she has a weakness for it.”
There’s the dull thunk of a knife landing on the table—maybe Bertram was prepared to saw off a slice of bread, but Amelie told him to stop. “Ah, of course.” He sounds sheepish. “Didn’t think of that—she used to breakfast with His Highness all the time. Hope she got a good rest, after what she’s been through.”
“I hope she’s staying for good.”
Bertram makes a surprised noise in his throat. “But she’s got to! Y’know, His Highness hasn’t been himself since she went away and that other lady took her place. That other lady can’t hold a candle to our Princess Kat. I’d be glad to see her gone, especially after how unkind she was to you.” He seems to gnash his teeth as he speaks. It’s a rare thing to hear Bertram sound so angry; he always is so cheerful. Anyone who doesn’t treat Amelie well is automatically an enemy of Bertram.
“To be fair, the other lady is not a tyrant,” Amelie says. “Princess Kat has spoiled me with her leniency. Most ladies expect complete deference and zero opinion in their servants.”
“That’s why His Highness is clean gone on her,” Bertram says stoutly. “She ain’t like other ladies.”
Amelie doesn’t reply—I assume she just nods. A twinge of guilt pricks me for spying on them, and I am about to clear my throat, when Bertram coughs and his next sentence makes me shrink back against the wall. “Say, when His Highness gets back from Parliament, would you care for a drive with me in the park? Figure he’d want to be alone with Princess Kat.”
“Don’t you use His Highness as an excuse to neglect your duties.” Amelie’s voice is severe, but I think she isn’t against the idea. If she genuinely didn’t want to go out with Bertram, she would have refused him in an icy tone.
“They’d want us outta the way.”
My stomach chooses to rumble loudly at the moment; I wish it didn’t. I haven’t even heard Amelie give her reply to Bertram.
Amelie is by my side in a flash. “Let’s return to your room and get you dressed.” She puts a hand on the door knob, but not before telling Bertram, “Put the kettle on the stove. Ask Cook to prepare the sandwich and send it up to the princess’s room.”