Princess of Athelia: An Unfinished Fairy Tales Novella by Aya Ling

Author:Aya Ling [Ling, Aya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

10

The journey was so tiring that I slept until midmorning the next day, so Constance had Amelie bring me a late breakfast tray instead. Then she took me on a tour of the house, which lasted so long that we were late for lunch. I counted two grand halls, three dining rooms, four parlors, and a dozen sitting rooms. There’s a healer’s room for the family doctor, as Constance boasts that they don’t need to ride to the nearest town for medical-related emergencies. They even have special rooms including a lamp room, a china room, and a muniment room where they keep parochial records, charters, deeds, and other important documents. Bedrooms are too many to count, and there’s even a “bachelor’s row” to separate the single guests from the married. The steward and butler and housekeeper get their own rooms, while the rest of the servants share a servants’ hall that reminds me of a hostel or dormitory. Even though the duke’s house lacks a throne room and palace guards and other stuff that comes with the royal package, it is pretty overwhelming. Constance seems pleased whenever my jaw drops or I let out a gasp.

Edward has gone grouse-shooting with the men—a popular pastime with the titled and wealthy, so I am left with the women. Everyone is nauseatingly polite and respectful, even when I occasionally behave like a country bumpkin, which again reminds me of how they ignored me in the past. I’m sure few of the smiles they give me are sincere, and it bothers me that I have to paste a huge, fake smile on my face in return. Again, I wish Poppy or Elle were here with me.

At noon, when the men return with cartloads of game from the shooting, Constance insists on having a picnic outside since the weather is uncommonly warm today. Like a general barking orders to soldiers, she directs the servants to set up a buffet style table on the lawn, with clusters of small round tables under the trees. As I observe her discussing with the butler the choices of meat and the seating arrangements, I realize this is the kind of woman that Madame Dubois wants me to emulate. Organized, efficient, well acquainted with every single minute detail and rule. Which is so not me.

The table looks in danger of crashing from the weight of food placed on it. There are platters of pheasants and partridges and deer, a giant wooden bowl of salad greens, slabs of cheese and fresh rye bread, cakes and jellies and puddings, and coffee and tea. I don’t even know where to start.

I look for Edward, but he is already occupied with Philip, Henry, and other men. I suppose it isn’t appropriate that we stick together like glue all the time, so I quash the awkward, shy part of me that’s threatening to rear, and do my best to socialize. Even though I’d rather sit away from the crowd with a book.

“Where are the children?” I ask, looking around.

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