Her Rightful Place

17: The Countess

"Mireille, allow me to introduce your tutor in Vyrunian history, language, and literature, the Countess Orelanjara," Queen Généviève smiles, trying to hide her frustration with her daughter and her husband. Although the theology instruction went well for the duration of the morning--Father Tarrenora elected to combine Vyrunian lessons with instruction in the Faith--the Grand Luncheon was, to the Queen's mind, a disaster. King Christophe sided with his daughter against etiquette lessons in spite of the presence of most of his Royal Court, saying that if Mireille were ever to be a healthy weight again, they could not trouble her with nonsensical rules and silly traditions. Naturally, Queen Généviève took offense to this remark, but Clothilde and Monique still remained present and gave Mireille subtle hints and instructions--the single saving grace of the meal, to the Queen's mind.

Mireille, for her part, is already exhausted from her lessons with the priest, who tried to touch her when the Queen was not looking, and the luncheon. She certainly has no desire for more lessons, especially not from the snooty-looking older woman in a too-tight monstrosity of a gown with her nose pointed skyward. Christelle takes one look at the Countess and immediately decides that far more mischief than learning will take place during these lessons.

"A pleasure to meet you," Mireille murmurs properly in faltering Vyrunian. In spite of the priest's wandering hands, she learned quite a bit of her mother tongue that morning. Countess Orelanjara frowns slightly.

"My dear, your accent is positively barbaric! Where have you been all these years, in an uncultured Mordalcean village? You sound like a piece of street trash. No, no, this will never do. Please excuse us, Your Majesty. There is much work to be done. I doubt the Princess even knows the myths of our great country, let alone its long and magnificent history," the Countess remarks scathingly. Mireille and Christelle exchange withering glances.

"Of course, Blandine. Just be sure she's in the stables in proper riding attire in three hours' time for her riding lesson," Queen Généviève says gaily before sailing out of the room in a cloud of her Ladies-in-Waiting. Countess Orelanjara turns to the two young women left in her care, both of whom are desperately trying to keep from snickering at the Countess's first name. Blandine arches a disapproving eyebrow before clapping her hands three times as though to startle the snickers out of the girls.

"Right then, to business. Please have a seat, ladies. We have much learning to do and time is flying as we speak. If we are ever to have you a proper lady, let alone a princess worthy of this splendid palace in which you currently find yourself, we must begin at once." Mireille and Christelle seat themselves at the two desks in the small, windowless room to which they have been led, while Countess Orelanjara stations herself next to the chalkboard at the front of the room. "To begin, Vyrunia began as a collection of territories, each controlled by a powerful clan. These clans are now the various noble families, and of course the most powerful was your ancestor, Évrard the Mighty..." Mireille tries to pay attention, but the insides of her eyelids seem far more interesting than the Countess's lecture. Then a note from Christelle slides under her nose, waking her up a bit.

Cheer up, lovely. Your prince will be here tomorrow, right? Mireille smiles in spite of herself and writes back before tossing the note back to her friend's desk while Blandine's back is turned.

We can only hope that my parents will allow me to see him instead of attending lessons. Everyone seems convinced that I have to learn as much as possible as quickly as possible. Christelle scribbles back quickly.

Pish posh. Everything will be fine. You should know that he will demand to see you, and of course your parents will not refuse him. This time Mireille seems more convinced, but unfortunately the Countess catches them in the act of note-passing.