THE HEIRESS
EPISODE 05
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The palace was still quiet in the early morning
light, with few servants and even fewer
courtiers in the halls. Isabelle didn’t bother to
stifle her yawn as she retraced her steps to her
room, in no rush to return now that she’d been
instructed to stay there.
The maid who was
guiding her kept stopping and waiting, clearly
impatient that her charge was taking so long.
Isabelle didn’t much care, instead choosing to
examine each room and hallway as they came
upon them, sketching a mental map of the
palace in her head.
The debutantes’ wing was markedly more alive
than the rest of the palace, with giggles and
titters filling the air as the other girls prepared
for breakfast.
Isabelle thanked her lucky stars
that Lissa had smuggled her some food,
especially as she was now to miss both
breakfast and lunch for having sa-ssed the
queen. It was a small price to pay if it meant
she could keep her ring, but she didn’t like the
way the queen had so easily given up, threat or
not.
Absently thanking the maid when she tugged
open her suite door, Isabelle froze in her
tracks when a burst of chatter and giggles
greeted her from within.
“What are you doing in my room?” she
demanded, blinking at the trio of girls settled
in on her sitting room furniture. Their
conversation died as soon as she’d entered,
the two identical blondes turning their big, blue
eyes to the brunette seated across from them.
“We’re your ladies-in-waiting,” the brunette
said, standing and brushing the wrinkles from
her dress before she curtseyed. “I am Alicia
and these are Laura and Marjorie.”
Laura and Marjorie, the very nearly identical
blondes rose and curtseyed in unison,
exchanging looks as they ran their eyes over
Isabelle.
“I don’t want any ladies-in-waiting, thank you,”
Isabelle said, crossing her arms. Alicia, the
brunette who was probably nearer to Isabelle’s
age than the others, pursed her li-ps before
forcing a pleasant expression onto her face.
“Her Majesty the Queen a-ssigned us to you as
you neglected to offer the position to anyone
from Kentshire,” Alicia said, clasping her hands
demurely before her.
“We are un-der instructions
to help you dress and prepare for your events
and accompany you when necessary.”
Isabelle couldn’t fight her scowl as she
inwardly cursed the queen. Of course she
hadn’t brou-ght anyone from Kentshire because
she hadn’t been asked to.
The royals must
have anticipated that the de Havilands would
be difficult and the trio of young women
standing before Isabelle were no doubt there to
act more like spies and jailers than true ladies-
in-waiting.
Isabelle ran her eyes over them, racking her
brain for the family trees she’d studied
extensively at Saint-Mary’s. Alicia had a strong
chin and straight nose, with a smattering of
faded freckles that she’d probably doused with
bu-ttermilk night after night in an attempt to
fade them. Her dress was fine enough, hinting
that she was from a well-titled house, but
Isabelle didn’t recall reading her name on any
of the royal family trees.
The twins, however, she placed without a
moment’s hesitation. They were the queen’s
nieces, the daughters of her youngest sister
and the only set of identical female twins
anywhere near the royal line. If the gossips at
Saint-Mary’s were to be trusted, Laura and
Marjorie’s beauty was their one and only
redeeming feature. stri-p them of that and they
were little more than self-centered brats with
less than half a brain between them.
“Very well then. I would like breakfast in my
suite,” Isabelle said, deciding that if these girls
had been a-ssigned to her in order to make her
stay less pleasant, she would make their lives
less than pleasant in return.
“Forgive me, but we are your ladies-in-waiting,”
Alicia said, watching as Isabelle crossed to her
bedchamber, “We aren’t servants to be ordered
about, we are here to help you-”
“Yes, you said that. And I’d like you to help me
by arranging for my breakfast to be delivered
to the suite. I’m quite tired,” Isabelle said,
fixing the other brunette with a frosty smile
before closing the door between them. She
only let the smile die once the other girl was
safely hidden from view. Pressing her palms to
her eyes, Isabelle grimaced as the prayed for
patience.
~*~
Isabelle remained in her room, as instructed,
until luncheon hour arrived and still no food
had been delivered to the suite. Folding and
sealing the fifth draft of the letter she’d written
to Leopold, Isabelle rang for Lissa before
squaring her shoulders and emerging from her
bedchamber.
To her utter surprise, the three girls had
vanished.
She checked the second bedchamber, only to
wince as she opened the door to an explosion
of trunks, dresses, cosmetics, and jewels. She
closed it quickly when she determined that the
others weren’t hidden among the haphazard
piles of half-unpacked trunks. Isabelle fought
down her irritation that they’d gone and left her,
sitting on the love-seat to brood until Lissa
arrived.
“They arrived the moment you left,” Lissa said,
throwing a dirty look towards the second
bedchamber as she unfolded her apron to
reveal a pair of crusty rolls, “And they seemed
to already know that you weren’t invited to
luncheon.”
“It seems I’m to subsist on bread and water
like a true prisoner,” Isabelle said, tearing into
the bun as the maid set to straightening up the
room, “Are they at least feeding you?”
“Oh yes, my lady,” Lissa said, “Though when I
tried to take an apple for you, they almost
called the royal guard.”
“Some palace this is,” Isabelle snorted, “More
like a glittering cage with dainty little lady-in-
waiting guards. Do you know who the brunette
is?”
“According to the chamber maid, she’s the
daughter of some lord from the Western Isles,”
Lissa said, “Apparently her mother was close
with the queen before her pa-ssing, which is
why she’s here at the palace and has been for
quite some time already. They say she’s a wily
one though, so watch your step around her.”
“Wonderful,” Isabelle muttered, more convinced
than ever that Alicia was the queen’s pet spy.
“Perhaps we should select my outfit for the
ball before they return to interfere.”
“Excellent idea, my lady,” Lissa said, “I’ll fetch
a few of the roomier gowns so you can at
least eat at the ball.”
When Lissa disappeared into the bedroom, the
sounds of feminine chatter echoed down the
hallways again. Isabelle finished the pair of
rolls her maid had smuggled her, brushing
away the crumbs and adopting her coolest
glare in preparation for the return of her
minders’ return.
When the door opened, the sharp words she’d
been hoping to use to put the girls in their
place died on her li-ps.
Clad in a pale rose gown that made her narrow
wai-st look even tinier, Cora Neasmith crossed
her arms in the doorway.
“You said you were engaged,” she said, the
anger alight in her grey eyes despite her polite
tone. Isabelle sighed.
“Well hello to you too,” she said, gesturing for
Cora to take a seat in the chair opposite her.
Her old friend closed the door a little too hard
before settling into the chair, arms crossed as
she waited for an explanation.
“I am still engaged,” Isabelle said, flexing her
hand to draw Cora’s attention to the ring that
still glittered there. Her friend’s eyes didn’t
thaw, even at the sight of the diamond.
“If you’re engaged, you cannot be a debutante,”
Cora said.
“And I have no interest in being one!” Isabelle
said, fighting to keep her tone even despite her
mounting annoyance. “They summoned me
here un-der the threat of more taxes on
Kentshire. I didn’t have much of a choice, so
here I am.”
Cora regarded her for a few moments, her eyes
still narrowed with suspicion.
“So you’re not here to catch a husband?” she
asked. Isabelle had to fight from rolling her
eyes.
“No, I’ve already caught mine. But ring or not,
apparently I’m the type of prize fish they want
for their debutante pond, so they compelled
me here against my wishes,” Isabelle said. “As
soon as Leo gets home from Ardalone, I’m
leaving.”
“Well if you keep embarra-ssing yourself like
you did at dinner last night, perhaps the queen
will send you home early,” Cora said.
“My, you’re in a mood today,” Isabelle fired
back, “Or do I have to tell you again that I’m
not here to steal the prince you’ve been
mooning about since January?”
“I haven’t been mooning over him,” Cora
protested, despite Isabelle’s snort.
“Yes, you have,” Isabelle said, “And for the
sake of our friendship, I promise I’ll stay away
from him.”
That seemed to appease her jealous friend
somewhat, the glare sli-pping from Cora’s face.
“Good luck doing that,” Cora said, “Because
until you arrived, Henrietta Barclay was the
most titled debutante here and she was fit to
be tied last night when you waltzed in wearing
your crimson and tartan. If you hadn’t so
publicly irked the queen, you’d probably
already be the prince’s favourite even without
having met him yet.”
“I promise you, Cora, I have no intention of
being any prince’s favourite, unless that prince
is Leopold. He’s not very happy with me either,
but I’d rather suffer throu-gha social season
than for-ce my people to suffer throu-gha
hungry winter.”
Cora stared at her for a few more seconds
before sighing and sagging back in the chair.
“I’m sorry, Isabelle,” she said, shaking her
head, “I was just….I was so mad at you when
you walked throu-ghthat door last night. And
Violet won’t stop gushing about the three of us
being together again, it’s all I could do not to
throttle her at breakfast.”
“Well I know I’m certainly happy to have a pair
of friendly faces in this infernal palace,”
Isabelle said, “The queen saddled me with a
trio of-”
Isabelle cut herself off as her three ladies-in-
waiting erupted into the room in a fit of
giggles and gossip.
“Oh, you’ve emerged,” Alicia said, recovering
first as Laura and Marjorie continued to titter.
Cora co-cked an eyebrow at them, glancing over
at Isabelle in shock at the girl’s impertinence.
Isabelle’s frosty smile returned as she turned
to her ladies-in-waiting.
“I would have earlier if any of you had bothered
to summon me for luncheon,” Isabelle said, “I
must say, Alicia, you three are doing a terrible
job thus far. No breakfast, no lunch…one
might almost think you’re un-der instructions to
starve me.”
When the blus-h crept up Alicia’s ne-ck, Isabelle
felt a little twinge of satisfaction. So the queen
had instructed her to make sure Isabelle
missed lunch.
“If you were my ladies-in-waiting, I’d have
dismissed you already,” Cora put in, doing her
best impression of their old manners mistress’
disgusted sneer. Isabelle pressed her li-ps
together to keep from laughing as Alicia
blinked at Cora, the pink now rising into her
cheeks.
“Yes, perhaps I ought to dismiss you,” Isabelle
said, aware that even if she did, the queen
would simply send them right back to her,
“Though I’m inclined to give you a second
chance to redeem yourselves.”
“Count your lucky stars, you three, because I
doubt that anyone else would be so kind in the
face of such disrespect,” Cora said, rising
gracefully, “I’ll come fetch you later, Isabelle, in
case these girls ‘forget’ to help you to the
ball.”
Isabelle fought to keep from grinning as her
friend swept from the room, at once relieved
that she’d smoothed over Cora’s prickly
jealousy and put her ladies-in-waiting in their
place.
To be continued….