I pushed open the door leading into the foyer. The smell of dinner reached me and my stomach grumbled in response. When I walked into the dining room, the food was just being placed on the table by the kitchen staff.
There was so much food, always too much. We never ate even half of it. The sight of roast duck, lamb stew, fresh brown bread, pastries drizzled with honey and crushed almonds . . . the sight of it all made my mouth water.
The dinner bell was rung and I sat at the table and my family joined me moments later, taking their seats at the table. Father sat at the head of the table, as he always did. My mother sat at the other end of the table; Alice sat to my father's right, and I sat at his left, across from her.
Mother looked at me across the table, her eyes narrowed. "How was your trip to the market, Erika?" She asked pleasantly, but her eyes held a challenge.
"It was fine." I replied blandly, hoping that would end the discussion.
Though, of course it wasn't.
"What did you buy?" Her eyes glinted in the lamplight.
I swallowed hard. I hadn't really thought about that. My eyes searched around the room for something I could have possibly bought at the market. "A book." A predictable answer. Safe.
"Which book?"
I tamped down my irritation. I didn't like all of the attention. Father and Alice watched our little exchange wordlessly. "Don Quixote." I already owned the book, but she couldn't possibly know that.
"Oh really? Who's that by?" She asked.
"Miguel de Cervantes." I replied immediately.
She nodded her head slowly, keeping her eyes on me. "I see. Well, I'm glad you found what you were looking for." She sounded pleasant, and the words she'd spoken were nice enough, but I knew she didn't mean it. She'd been waiting for me to slip up, but I hadn't.
I ate my dinner in silence as my mother and father chatted about the politics of court and everything that was going on. Alice turned to me and asked in a low voice, "Did you really go to the market?"
"Yes, of course. Why would I lie about that?" I said.
She nodded slowly and turned back to her food. The way she'd asked me the question, almost with accusation, made me uneasy. I went back to eating my own food, but I found that I was no longer hungry.
The next day, I went through the same routine: dragging myself out of bed, breakfast, lessons . . . but all day, I was looking forward to when I would be able to go to the palace again.
Finally, around three o'clock, Walter drove me in the carriage to the palace gates. Once again, I paid him for his silence, and he informed me that he would be back around six o'clock.
Although I was there on time today, William was already waiting by the tree when I arrived. I felt a smile tug at my lips as I walked toward him.
"Good day, William," I greeted.
A smile played about his lips. "Hello, Miss Lovet."
"You may call me Erika, since you let me call you William."
He raised his eyes skyward as he thought. "Alright, Erika."
My heart did a little flip. I found that I liked the sound of my name on his lips. We sat under the tree and neither of us said something for a long moment.
I broke the silence. "What's it like being prince?" I asked him curiously.
He looked at me for a moment and then at the grass. "It's both good and bad. There's lots of work and training and it seems like I am never really done, but it is also rewarding. I get to meet many beautiful women, like yourself,"—my face warmed at his words—"and I am training for a job that I think I will be quite good at. Not to sound overly confident," he added sheepishly.
I nodded thoughtfully, a smile tugging at my lips.
"What's it like being the second daughter of a nobleman?" He asked me, his sapphire eyes meeting my own.
I looked away, staring at my hands in my lap. "Hard, sometimes." I said honestly.
"How so?"
My father never notices me; my mother always expects me—wants me—to be my sister. No one ever really cares what I do, except to reprimand me for what I've done wrong.
I swallow hard, still looking at my hands. "Expectations." I begin flatly. Then force a smile, a light laugh. "I'm sure you can understand that." I didn't want to meet his eyes.
He nodded slowly. I could feel his eyes on me as I looked away. And then his hand inched toward me until it rested on top of my own hand.
I smiled, a lump suddenly forming in my throat. I'd only met him very recently, and already I could feel that he understood. At least more so than the people I was around everyday.
It was quiet for some time after that, the only sound being that of the passersby entering and leaving through the palace gates, but I hardly heard it, so focused was I on this unspoken moment between us.
After that, we moved to safer, less sensitive topics. We talked about books (again), and authors we liked, and other small things. It felt like no time at all had passed before Walter and the carriage were waiting for me.
"I have to go." I said, standing.
William stood with me and we both looked at each other for a moment. Then he pulled a small white envelope out of his pocket. "Your family is probably already coming, but there is a ball in two days here at the palace and . . ." he paused, his cheeks reddening. "I wanted to give you a personal invitation."
My own cheeks heated at his words and I smiled, taking the invitation from him. "I'm sure my family is already going, but I'll come because you asked me to, not because they're going to be there."
He grinned at me, his white teeth glinting in the sun. "Good. I will look forward to it. Would you like to meet again tomorrow?"
"Yes, at the same time?"
"I'll see you then, Erika." He took my hand in his before I could protest, and pressed his lips to the back of it. Always the gentleman.
I smiled and then turned to go meet Walter. He greeted me with a bow and helped me into the carriage. "Did you have a nice time, Miss Lovet?" He asked.
"Yes, Walter, I had a lovely time." I could not keep the smile on my face.
I rode home in the carriage, still holding the envelope.
When we got back to the estate, I hid the envelope in the folds of my gown and went inside. Everyone was already sitting at the table and I took a seat and began shoveling food onto my plate.
My father glanced up at me from the document he was reading. "Did you go out again?" He asked before looking back down at his papers.
I nodded and stabbed my fork into a roasted potato. "Yes."
"What did you do?" Mother asked, sounding disinterested. But I knew she was listening carefully to what I had to say.
"I took my new book and read it under a tree." I replied.
"You know we have a library upstairs?"
"Yes, but it's so stuffy in there. I only needed a book and I could read it outside."
She nodded slowly, looking back down at her food.
"Are we going to a ball soon?" I asked suddenly, thinking about the invitation hiding in my skirt.
She looked up again, surprised. "Yes, but it hasn't come up. How did you know?"
"I've heard things," I said vaguely. "I was thinking . . ." I swallowed, hesitant. I thought back to how dreadful my dancing was at the last ball. "Maybe I could take dancing lessons again?"
The corner of her mouth turned up in a sneer. "Why would you want to do that?"
"Well, I'm not a very good dancer and—"
She cut me off with a sharp laugh. "Oh, darling, we already know that."
I felt my cheeks heat as I looked down at my plate. "And I want to get better." I finished lamely.
She pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing. "Is this because of him?"
I knew who she was talking about, even without a name. "Of course not, Mother. You should be pleased that I want to improve."
"I'll talk to Monsieur de La Reue and set something up." She said.
"Thank you," I said and continued eating.
Later that night, I sat in my bedroom, looking at the book, The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus, but I wasn't reading it.
There was a sharp knock on my door.
"Enter," I called.
My mother opened the door. "I have talked to Monsieur de La Reue, and your lessons begin tomorrow at three o'clock."
My heart sank a little. Mother noticed my sudden displeasure and she raised an eyebrow, ready to pounce. "Is something the matter with that?" She never missed anything.
I clenched my jaw in frustration. She'd done it deliberately. "No, Mother. I appreciate you talking de La Reue." I said, keeping my tone polite. I would not take the bait.
"It's Monsieur de La Reue." She said sharply. "Don't take these lessons lightly, Erika." And with that, she shut the door. End of conversation.
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This was the end of chapter three. I hope you like the story so far! If you see anything that is a mistake or grammatical error, feel free to leave a comment and tell me what needs to change.
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