The Duchess's Daughters

Chapter 3

   I slip quietly behind the thin drapes of the parlor window, and push open the glass door. I step through it, and onto the brick balcony. It overlooks the front of the palace and the cobblestone main drive to the entrance, in a big loop around a small grassy square made elaborate with a marble fountain.

It's slightly windy, and the cool breeze finds its way up my skirts, billowing them far too up for modesty's sake. Alarmed, I shove them down and glance behind me quickly, thankful no one was there to witness my excessive show of skin.

Gathering my pride, I walk to the edge of the balcony. Straight down is the big oak doors of the entrance, and the marble stairs leading up to them. The carriages drop visitors off on them so they don't have to tread on the cobblestone drive and soil their shoes from where the horses have walked. Whereas me? I'd run barefoot in manure and hay if I was given the chance, and sometimes I think I should've been born a stable boy. Probably a better job... probably better, than being the Duchess's daughter.

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 After surveying the land I see every day, I lift my hands up to my mouth, cupping them around each other and blow into them, emitting a beautiful dove call. Not a minute has passed when five of the inquisitive creatures land on the balcony rim, blinking at me with orange eyes. I pick a small white one with flecks of gray all over his body, and hold out my finger to him. The dove daintily steps onto it, and the remaining four doves fly off, rejected. I relize I've no pen or parchment so I slip behind me, through the glass door and into the parlor, along with my feathered friend on my finger. I take a quick glance around for maids, hike my skirts up with my free hand, and dash over to the desk of the far side of the room, grabbing a quill and a tiny slip of parchment.

And then I freeze in my tracks, not moving. It's the piano. A few random keys have been pressed, resounding in half-step notes. It's one thing to be sneaking around with the balcony door open, but there is also a dove on my finger, I must remember that.

If it's a maid, I'll get a scolding and my mother will be informed, if it's Father, I'll get a quick beating, promising not to tell. And if it's mother, I'll get a look of disapointment for my fib, and sometimes, that's worse than the beating.

But it's none of the above I find out, when I turn around ever so slowly. It just might be worse though. Because Ashtray the cat sits perched on the piano keys.

And he licks his lips..