The Wilful Eye by Isobelle Carmody

Author:Isobelle Carmody
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Young Adult Fiction
Publisher: Allen & Unwin Pty Ltd
Published: 2011-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

‘ There,’ he said, breath steaming in the icy air. ‘Look there between the trees.’

In the winter twilight, the snow was no longer sparkling white, but grey as a dim tide between the trunks. The lights of the chateau blazed from every window through a lattice of bare branches. Belle caught her breath. What wealth! What waste and extravagance!

‘Same as before,’ her father muttered. He fumbled at her elbow and hurried her forward. ‘I thought I was dreaming then. I was ready to curl up and die, I was so cold.’

Belle was cold right now. She had no feeling in her fingers and a constant, dull ache in her feet. No layers of clothing could keep this cold at bay, not even the extra woollens and cloaks taken from Belle’s older sisters. They had left Delphie and Elise snuggled up in bed at home, the only place to stay warm in the freezing cottage.

‘Miles from anywhere here,’ said Belle.

‘Yes, I took a short cut that didn’t work out. But it was all meant to be, don’t you see? For you and your prince.’ Her father was impatient. ‘What do you think of this for a front door?’

It was three times as high as the doors of their cottage. Belle followed her father up the stone steps, so wide and deep they seemed made for giant feet. He turned a massive iron ring in the door, and pushed it ajar.

‘Shouldn’t we . . .?’ Belle ventured.

‘Knock? I never knocked last time. See, he doesn’t get up till after nightfall.’

What about servants? Belle wondered, but held her tongue.

The warmth inside was wonderful. They stood in a hall like a long church nave, with endless stone columns that met in arches overhead. Between the columns were niches enclosing busts and portraits. A smell of burning candle wax hung in the air, and some other smell less easy to define: a kind of thick animal musk.

Behind them, the door creaked shut as if moved by an invisible hand.

‘Don’t worry, don’t worry.’ Belle’s father was keyed up with nervous excitement. ‘You’re going to be a prince’s bride. The luckiest girl in the world.’

He marched down the hall as far as a circular table on which lay a small glittering casket. The sides and top of the box were decorated all over with miniature mirrors.

‘Aha, here it is,’ he muttered.

He lifted the lid and peeked inside, taking care to shield the contents from Belle’s view. When he snapped it shut again, an avid light shone in his eyes.

‘The bride price?’ Belle asked. She was only a month past sixteen, and had never contemplated marriage until two days ago. Now she was curious to know what she was worth.

‘Yes, yes.’ Her father didn’t want to discuss it. ‘For the good of the family. Your marriage saves us from freezing to death this winter, Belle.’

For the time being, he left the casket lying where it was and continued on to an open door further down the hall.

‘Hurry up, slowcoach.

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