The Pauper Prince - Part 33

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 33

  Mara's assistants did, after a time, reach a state of mutual tolerance. It was rather unlikely that they would ever become friends, but she was accepting of this. The two women stood apart in far too many ways and had been brought together artificially. There was otherwise no reason for them to associate with each other. As long as Heather understood that she did not need to fight to retain her Lady's affection, and that Daphne understood that she was not one misstep away from the gallows, everyone could get on with their lives. Especially Mara.

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  Heather's and Leonard's wedding finally took place, performed in the castle's chapel and attended by their collected family and friends - plus some special guest members of royalty. Other than Mara, who couldn't wait to attend, she had managed to convince Kelvin and his parents. More accurately, Kelvin had convinced his parents, who initially declined on the basis that "everyone would expect an appearance." An idea with which Mara quite agreed. After convincing them to attend, Kelvin's next challenge was convincing them not to make the ceremony about themselves. The least conspicuous clothing they had were their traveling clothes, which were still elaborate enough to beat a peasant's finest. They would have to do.
  The ceremony had been delayed first because of the war, and second so Heather could attend to her Lady to the end of her pregnancy. Now only cold feet threatened the wedding, but it happened, nonetheless, and beautifully so. Mara had been asked to be an attendant, but she gently declined being anything but a spectator, realizing that any other role in the ceremony would have drawn more attention away from the couple.
  The question of what sort of gift to give the new couple had been a perplexing one for a while. Mara thought about having a dress made for Heather, but that wouldn't include her husband. Kelvin thought of commissioning a fine sword of a higher-grade steel and workmanship than was typical for a guard, but again, only one side was being taken care of. Then Mara remembered their biggest challenge: where to live. Heather had always been sharing a room with three other girls, and Leonard, the barracks with the other unmarried guards. Space was premium on the castle grounds, and Mara's in-laws would not relinquish any of the guest rooms meant for the high-born. The couple could have moved to Allcourt and walked to the castle each day, but Mara was determined to resolve this situation.
  After a bit of scoping, aided immeasurably by Solomon, a storage room along the castle's outer wall was found. The contents could, with some creative distribution amongst the remaining storage rooms and some reworking, serve as living quarters for a young couple. Solomon promised to oversee the operation, which he did to great success. And so the Princess and Prince were able to present their gift to the new couple: private quarters, sparsely furnished by donations from family and friends. Heather was ecstatic to near-catatonia; Leonard was also speechless at first, then managed to thank their Highnesses on his and his new wife's behalf.
  Heather had been granted seven days off to enjoy her time with her new husband. This left Kelvin in the position of asking the new Captain of the Guard for the same deal for Leonard. Again, more grumblings were voiced about "everyone" expecting the same deal, but there was nothing to be done about it. The Princess could set the rules for her assistants, and seven days off after a marriage was one of them. Heather's colleagues filled in for her time off capably enough, but could never be her replacement.
  During her assistant's absence Mara visited Adrienne, as well as Francine, who had been compensated monetarily for her excellent assistance, if not with a title like Adrienne's. Miss Daphne was with her as always, bearing a bag of supplies for Isabel while Mara carried the child herself. The visit was, of course, to the midwives' delight, who could now spend time with the little Princess they had helped birth.
  Mara's timing was also good. The Royal Midwife proudly showed the written and illustrated record of her technique, ready to be copied and distributed throughout the kingdom, per the Princess' instruction. Adrienne's main concern was that this would be seen by others as a miracle that would not fail, when any reasonable person should be able to work out that success was never a guarantee. Not even for the Princess, if it happened again. Mara had already considered and accepted that possibiliy on her own. If it was ever the only way for her child to live, she would welcome the knife.
  Mara also revisited Ophelia, whose son Nathaniel seemed twice as large as she'd remembered. Much fuss and adoration then befell Isabel, not to mention the fuss and adoration over the two mothers holding each other's child. After making her farewells, but before leaving, Mara turned to the family and pretended to pout. She looked at Ophelia's younger sister, Cordelia. "What's this?" she said. "No farewell hug for me?" Cordelia, after getting silent permission from her mother, grinned and rushed forward to copy her previous embrace. She was not scolded for it this time.
  It was with this visit and others throughout the castle grounds, over time, that the "peasants" surreptitiously viewed the little Princess as closely as any of the nobility had. In some cases, closer, for some were allowed to hold her. If the Queen discovered Mara's actions, she did not make it known.

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  Countess Lucinda had replied so far to Mara's invitations with explanations of her busy-ness. Finally Mara threw up her hands about it and was preparing to make her own trip to visit, when the Queen caught wind of the plan and insisted that she remain at home, not traveling with an infant. Mara was perplexed by this and required a description from Miss Daphne of the tediousness of such travel, not to mention the potential danger to fragile royal infants in rickety carriages - even for brief trips of two hours. Also, the Queen had to point out that the Countess had been committing a most grievous faux pas by not responding to her Princess' requests. Mara learned that she was supposed to have been greatly offended by this, and promised the Queen to be properly indignant next time.
  Without having been sent any further invitations, Lucinda did accompany her husband, Count Richard, during his most recent visit to Gildern's court. He had never been a stranger there; it was his wife who had become a rarer sight. Mara greeted her as warmly as could be before they all dined with the Queen, joined by various other Ladies of the court. Countess Yvette was among them this time and now 20% more with child than ever. She also showed the Princess a little more warmth than in their previous encounters. For Lucinda, she showed just as much as before.
  As Ladies would do, much of the conversation was about their husbands, children - arrived or on their way - hobbies, and pet projects. Mara took the opportunity to bring up what she hoped to become a project: that of cultivating her five acres of land to somehow benefit others. Whom? wondered some. Herself! joked another, and recommended a summer home. Or winter home. Or one of each. Mara took an informal poll of the women to see if they favored a school, a hospital, or some sort of sanctuary - each for women.
  After a pause, most of the women had to stifle snickers and giggles. Fanning themselves helped cover any impudent smirks. Lucinda joked that, if Mara built a sanctuary, she the Countess would be its first occupant. Mara was not amused; her silence as she regarded them all was her way of containing the unladylike words that she wished to unleash upon them all. The Queen was astute enough to recognize the coming storm, and tried to play off Mara's queer interests and change the subject. Without missing a beat, the rest of the Ladies resumed discussing their usual topics. Mara maintained her silence and nibbled absently at whatever food was in her hand at the time.
  During a break in the others' conversation to nibble at their own meals, she was emboldened to speak again. "You know," said Mara, setting down her food and straightening the lap of her gown, "I find it interesting that we are all women, and yet so many don't have an interest in assisting women."
  "What's that now?" asked a Duchess.
  "Mm... Perhaps my goal is too far-reaching," said Mara, "But I was hoping that my thoughts of places that might benefit women would be appealing to those gathered. Rather than amusing. That's all."
  Some of the women traded perplexed looks, but the Duchess remembered and pointed. "Ahhh," she said, "You mean the school for women? Is that what you meant?"
  "Or hospital, or sanctuary, or... something that would benefit us," said Mara. "They're merely suggestions. I have land. I don't have much money of my own, but I'll have more over time. Because of this, I can't help but wonder if I should be doing something with it. Something for us. For the kingdom."
  "Mara," said the Queen gently. "Daughter. Raising my granddaughter, a Princess and future Queen, is 'doing something' for the kingdom."
  Mara contained her sigh at the last moment. "Mother Queen, I acknowledge and embrace that responsibility. But these thoughts are not new for me. Of course we live in a 'man's world,' but what is a world without change? There are schools and universities aplenty, but none for women. Why is that?"
  "-said the girl with private teachers," said the Queen.
  "I refer to opportunities for other women besides ones of privilege."
  The Duchess smirked. "Even the universities you speak of are for men of privilege," she said. "Peasants do not venture inside."
  "Then that should change, too." Mara finally let herself sigh. "Still, it needn't be a school," she said. "Doing something for us isn't a new thought for me, but.... how to do so is. If I cannot build a school, or a hospital, or even a... a sanctuary or shelter for wives and their children, fleeing the abuses of terrible husbands... then... perhaps unequal laws may be changed."
  The Queen's eyes narrowed. "You speak of changing our laws now," she said warily. "Does our King know of this plan? Does your husband?"
  "I would use words, Mother Queen," said Mara. "Words only, to persuade, if I can."
  "Persuade whom?"
  "Wh-Our King, of course," she said. "You. Our Prince."
  "I see," said the Queen. "And what sort of 'unequal' laws did you have in mind?"
  Mara had kept all her attention on the Queen, and then realized that all eyes were on her now. She looked around the room of spectators and cleared her throat quietly. "I, uh..." she said, fidgeting with her wedding ring, "I will compile a master list with all haste, but there are laws about things such as... inheritance. They are based on sex rather than, say, order of birth. Or even an equitable split amongst all heirs. Laws about punishments for crimes. About marriage. About the wages of labor for men and women. They, too, are inequitable. A woman doing the same work as a man will always receive less."
  "What sort of work is a man doing that a woman also does?" asked another Duchess.
  "Oh..." said Mara, and shrugged. "Many things, your Grace. Surely you've seen women plying a trade in smithing, or carpentry, or any number of skills that one might assume are only for men?"
  The women pondered this. Some shook their heads.
  "It is true," said the Queen. "Our own blacksmith's wife and daughter do assist him in his work."
  "Ah, but do they do his work, Ma'am?" said a Duchess. "If he were away, could they swing his hammer all day? Make a large shield or a cart's wheel? Or... the carpentry you mention. Could a woman lift the heavy wood and tools all day for making furniture? I say no. We do not have the strength for it."
  "You'd be surprised how strong a woman can be," said Mara. "How much stamina one could have. Doing the work all day that would tire a man. Why... why, some women have even taken up a sword and done the work of a soldier. And lived!"
  This brought cackles and titters from the other Ladies, but not the Queen, nor, Mara finally noticed, Yvette. It then dawned on her that Yvette had not laughed or even smirked once at the absurd ideas she'd been putting before these women.
  "Oh!" said a viscountess, fanning herself. "Your Highness, such wit!"
  "I daresay I wouldn't want to meet the woman who prefers a sword of steel to the 'sword' of a man!" said the first Duchess, eliciting loud guffaws now.
  A fist was slammed - hard - on the table, rattling some of the dishes. "LADIES!" bellowed the Queen. In an instant, the room was silent and full of wide-eyed women. "What's all this snorting?? At a Royal Princess? At your future Queen??"
  "Y-y-your Majesty," Lucinda dared to say. "W-w-we are laughing with her, not at her." Without taking her eyes off the Queen, she grabbed Mara's hand and all but petted it. "We love her, of course. And her jests."
  "Really?" said the Queen. "Mara, are they jests? And are they laughing 'with' you?"
  "I..." she said, having trouble meeting the Queen's - or anyone's - gaze. "No, they were not jests. I meant every word. But then," she added quickly, "I should be able to, uh... to handle a bit of fun at my expense. Ladies, I don't mind your laughter. I realize that my ideas are strange."
  "That is no excuse for mockery," said the Queen. "Right, Ladies?" With that, the Ladies fell over each other in offering apologies, which only served to redden the Princess' face. After the contriteness and forgiveness quieted down, Mara smiled awkwardly at them all and grabbed a handful of her favorite comfort food: mixed nuts. Suddenly she chuckled.
  "Actually, Duchess," she said, "Your quip about different 'swords' was rather amusing."
  "Why, thank you, my Lady!"
  "Of course," said Mara, trying not to giggle, "These days I prefer my man's 'sword.'"
  A stunned silence fell on the room, only erupting into mirthful chaos after Mara smiled and winked at them. Then she hoped that none of them would pick up the clue she'd dropped about her previous occupation.

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  Mara led a squad of women to the nursery to placate their eagerness to see her little Princess. She shushed them in the hallway and entered quietly alone. Miss Daphne was seated by the window and was knitting while Isabel slept in her crib. They exchanged whispers about the feasibility of all the women viewing her at once, as long as everyone tiptoed and whispered. Miss Daphne saw no danger in this, and suddenly the nursery was full of admiring women quietly cooing to each other and Isabel. The little Princess suddenly waved her arms a little, as if reacting to something in a dream, leading to several squeals of delight from the gathered Ladies.
  Mara sensed that, the longer they stayed, the louder and more careless they might become, so she gently ushered them outside, then lingered over Isabel's crib a few more moments. She inquired about Miss Daphne's knitting project and was told it was "nothing of importance," so Mara all but backed out of the room in order to lengthen her time watching Isabel.
  The gathered Ladies were amenable to a stroll around the castle grounds, except for Lucinda, who explained that she was quite fatigued and wished to rest in her guest room. Mara thought it best to call off the walk, but Lucinda insisted that she would be joining them for dinner that night.

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  After the Ladies had had enough of walking and talking, they split off into pairs or trios and tended to other business. Mara politely declined joining any such group, preferring instead to make as much time for her daughter as possible. They would all see each other later that evening. But before visiting the nursery, she stopped by Lucinda's room and knocked gently. She was a little bit surprised that Lucinda opened the door herself rather than any of her assistants. Lucinda's expression was glum until she recognized her visitor, then instantly became something approximating gladness. She opened the door wide enough for Mara to enter, who stepped inside and embraced her warmly.
  "Pardon my intrusion," said Mara. "I hope I didn't cause you to lose rest?"
  "No," said Lucinda tiredly. "I haven't really been resting."
  "Are you unwell?" said Mara, trying to feel her friend's forehead. Lucinda pulled away. "Sorry. I just wanted to check on you."
  "I appreciate that. Thank you."
    During the uncomfortable silence that followed, Mara fidgeted a little, then made herself clasp her hands in front. "Well," she said quietly, "I pray that it's nothing to be concerned about. Lucinda..."
  "Yes?" she said after Mara's words dropped away.
  "I just wanted you to know that I'm glad to see you again," said Mara. "I missed you. That's all. You were... quite busy, which is perfectly understandable. I do hope that things have settled lately?"
  "I'm fine, dear," said Lucinda. "Thank you for asking."
  "If you're feeling unwell now," said Mara, "You're welcome to visit our physician, Sir William. I'm not-- fond of visiting him, but he is learned and competent."
  Lucinda forced a smile. "That won't be needed. Come suppertime, you'll see me in full spirits once again."
  "That's good to know," said Mara. "We have much catching up to do. You'll be here at least overnight, yes?" Lucinda nodded. "And I understand that you're not unwell, but... if you'll pardon me, I can't escape the feeling that something is troubling you."
  Lucinda made a frustrated grunt and threw up her hands. "I said, I'm fine!"
  Mara's eyes widened in surprise; Lucinda's, in fear as she realized her faux pas. She snatched up Mara's hand and kissed it repeatedly.
  "Your Highness," she said. "I am so sorry. I-I spoke out of turn... out of line... I-"
  Mara yanked way her hand. "Stop that. I'm here as your friend, not some royal personage."
  "I still spoke out of line."
  Mara shrugged. "Well-- Yes, but that tells me that something is troubling you. What is it? Please talk to me, Lucinda. I want to help, if I can."
  Lucinda's eyes began tearing up, but she fought them back and stood tall. She took Mara's hand one more time and kissed it slowly and gently. Unseen by her, Mara rolled her eyes. Then Lucinda stood straight and wiped away a wayward tear. "You've always been a good friend to me," she said. "Yet somehow, you're probably the last to know this. You never did develop an ear for gossip or rumor." She led Mara to the settee and waited for the Princess to sit before she did. She spent some more time gathering her courage.
  "I'll be plain," she said. "Richard means to divorce me."
  Mara gasped. "No! How can that be? What reason could he have?"
  Lucinda shrugged. "It... should be obvious."
  "Oh, Lucinda," said Mara. "Not... infidelity?" she said in a whisper, as if there were anyone else nearby.
  "What? No!" she snapped. "I've been as faithful as a hound to that man. But Richard: the same could not be said of him. There's scarcely a woman at home that he's left untouched. Even my own handmaidens!"
  "Oh, no! Constance and Lorraine?"
  "Those disloyal strumpets?" said Lucinda. "Yes, them. If I could have had them executed, I would have. The worst I could do was dismiss them."
  "Do you know where they are now?"
  "What do I care where they are?" said Lucinda. She stood and began pacing. "They are betrayers! But that's not his reason for threatening divorce."
  "It seems that you have just cause to divorce him," said Mara, then grumbled, "If our laws worked that way for women."
  Lucinda scoffed. "Exactly," she said. "Then what could the reason be?"
  "You don't know it?"
  "Of course I know it," said Lucinda, and watched Mara as if waiting for an answer. Mara responded with a shrug. Lucinda held out her hands. "Look at me," she said. "Over two years of marriage, and I have nothing to show for it!"
  Mara was confused a few moments, then showed comprehension. "Children?" she said. "He's... Is this about not yet having children?"
  Lucinda stopped pacing. She made several attempts to speak, then could only look away and weep. Mara stood and held out her arms. Lucinda made feeble attempts to push her away, but Mara would have none of it. She pulled Lucinda into a long embrace and ended it with a kiss to her cheek. Then she took her hand and led her back to the settee.
  "You're right," said Lucinda after sitting. "Over two years and no children. I am... barren, Mara."
  "Nooo," said Mara. "He must have more patience. Two years isn't that long. There could be any number of reasons for this. Do you have a midwife?"
  "Yes. Not that she's been of any help."
  "Then I urge you to consult with Adrienne, our Royal Midwife," said Mara. "She has great skill and knowledge. If she can't help you, I don't know who could."
  "You're too kind."
  "And Richard is too impatient," said Mara. "And... and disloyal, to boot! That just infuriates me! And yet again, the law is far too lenient about such things for men and too stringent for women. Humiliating you like that, and then has the gall to threaten divorce?"
  "Mara-"
  "And what of his mistresses?" she said. "He blames you for lack of children, but have any of those other women borne him a child?"
  Lucinda thought a moment, then sighed and shook her head. "Not that I know of."
  "Well, then!" said Mara. "I'll wager that... that he is the one who's 'barren.' Hm? Bedded so many women, and none have been fruitful? That doesn't point to you for suspicion!"
  Lucinda sighed again. "Mara, I appreciate that you're trying to cheer me up, but be reasonable. It doesn't matter if it's really his fault for there being no children. The man is never to blame. You know that."
  "Blame should be... where it should be!"
  "Well, it isn't," said Lucinda. "Not here, not now. And... truthfully, I have moments of relief at the thought of being free of him, but then I remember that it would destroy me. I can scarcely look at him most days, yet... if the marriage ends, it would be the end of me."
  "Oh, no, please, don't say such things," said Mara, squeezing her friend's hand. "I can understand you seeing things as bleak now, but you must take heart. Do your parents know about this? They have the right to intervene on your behalf. At least that law favors us! And even our King and Queen should be willing to speak with your husband. Talk him into showing more patience? Please don't lose hope, Lucinda."
  Lucinda yanked her hand away and stood again to resume her pacing, this time angrily. "Nngh!" she cried. "What do you know of hopelessness?? Your life is perfect!! A royal Princess, fated to be Queen, whose royal husband and whose royal in-laws all love you!! Everyone does! And your child was probably conceived right on your wedding night! And now I look upon that mouse, Countess Yvette, barely out of her wedding dress and with her own child on its way! Two years, Mara! Where is mine?" She hit her own thighs on each word. "Where- is- mine?!?"
  "What is this?" hissed Mara, ignoring her friend's tears. "You try to make an enemy of me? As if I'm to blame for this?? I am trying to help you!!"
  "There is no help for me," moaned Lucinda. "Do you-- d'you even comprehend my fate? Do you? Perhaps I shouldn't blame you for that. It's a secret, but a poorly-kept one. Mara, did you know that I'm not high-born?"
  "No," said Mara. "And please explain why that means anything."
  "It means..." she said, "It means that my title comes from him alone. I am either a Countess by our marriage, or I am nothing. My parents have wealth, and I am with Richard only because he did not. Our union was purchased, and... if it's gone, then I lose everything."
  "That does not make you nothing," said Mara. "You just said that your parents have wealth, so you didn't grow up poor, correct? And surely they would welcome you home, should the worst happen?"
  "I've been told... no," said Lucinda. "I am the oldest. My dowry was... very large. The rest will be for my sisters. There will be no other dowries for me. And even if there were, what would it matter? They'd never forgive me for failing in only two years. And I'd be 'used' and known as barren! What man would want me?"
  "I don't know," said Mara. "A man with children already? A widower?"
  "A stepmother?" she sniffed. "For someone else's brats?"
  Lucinda realized her poor choice of words the instant before Mara shot up into a full standing position and loomed over the Countess. She was already a head taller than Lucinda, now more so given Lucinda's shrinking back.
  "I misspoke, I misspoke," she said. Mara did not reply, preferring to stare. She had an unexpectedly passive expression. Lucinda had no way of knowing the depth of her anger, other than from her two clenched fists.
  "My Lady?"
  "Be plain with me," said Mara. Even her tone was even. This was somehow worse than obvious anger. "Were you truly too busy to visit? Or just unable to bear the sight of my 'brat?'"
  "No, no, that's not it at all!" said Lucinda, and then let her gaze drift downward.
  "Look at me!" Mara growled. Lucinda snapped to attention and tried to speak, but could not form any real words. "And enough sniveling!" At least she could hear the anger now. "Am I your enemy for daring to have a child, or not?"
  "No!" she said, erupting into loud weeping. Mara was unmoved this time. "Envy made me say those things! I have been a slave to it! I-I-I see... I see any woman, not just you, not just Yvette, but any woman with child, or... or with good, loving husbands... friends... and I lose myself, Mara. I think... why them and not me? Why them and-?"
  "Stop it," said Mara. She closed her eyes and sighed. "It pains me to say this. It truly does. But too much of this misery is your own. Lucinda, I love you. I want all happiness for you, and I don't make light of these things - a poor marriage, trouble conceiving - but you bring too much on yourself!"
  "How could I possibly be doing that?"
  "You are--" Mara took in a breath for courage. "You are cruel, Lucinda!"
  The Countess gasped. "How... How dare-!"
  "There! I have said it!" said Mara. "You-- You take sport in belittling others. From the time we met, I have seen this in you. You almost struck my assistant and friend; don't deny that! You tricked me into mocking a women I'd never met! You spew venom on your own assistants - sorry, former assistants, and-and-and... on everyone you know! I have seen it! I have heard it! Is there no one spared of your contempt? No one who's spared of your jabs and pokes and gibes and gossip and rumor? Am I?"
  "Of course! I would never-!"
  "Really?" said Mara. "You're angry with me for having a so-called 'perfect' life, remember?"
  "I misspoke," she whispered. "That's not what I meant. Please believe me."
  "Then what did you mean?"
  Mara realized that she was mere inches from the Countess' face, breathing down her neck, and took a step back to give her room. If it helped, it was difficult to say, for Lucinda was still unable to come up with a reply.
  "Tch. It doesn't matter, then," said Mara, turning away to make for the door.
  "Wait!" Lucinda called out. Mara paused and only turned back halfway. "My Lady," she said, grabbing Mara's hand again to kiss it.
  Mara yanked it back again. "Stop that. I'm not here for your fealty."
  "It's all I have left to give," said Lucinda.
 Mara covered her face with her hands. "Ahhh!" she cried, and relaxed her grip. "I'd prefer your friendship."
  Lucinda spoke softly. "I think you're my only friend right now."
  "Am I?"
  Lucinda looked up, her brow knitted in worry. "Aren't you?"
  "Am I?" she said again. "Think before you answer."
  The Countess did just that. She thought, longer and far more deeply than she had thought of most things. Mara sensed this, and said nothing while waiting. Lucinda then took a deep breath. "I think that you are," she said quietly. "But I have not been your friend. Even today, I laughed at you. Just like the others. I joined with them rather than stand by you. I don't blame you if you're angry with us all. With me. I've not been a friend at all."
  Mara seemed lost in thought to the point of being oblivious to her surroundings. Lucinda wondered if she'd been heard, and prepared to repeat herself.
  "Not lately," Mara said finally. "But we have been friends before. Look: you have good reason to worry about your fate, and believe it or not, I still do want to help, but nothing good will come of this if you accept none of it, and think only the worst of everything. The worst of everyone. Do you understand me?"
  "I think so," she said, nodding.
  "Well... I hope that you know so, soon." Mara fidgeted a bit, then threw up her hands. "I can't dawdle anymore. I was on my way to something else, and stopped by - briefly - to see how you're doing."
  "And I delayed you terribly," said Lucinda. "I am sorry."
  "Just... try to find a way to help yourself," said Mara. "I don't know what it would be, but I want something good to come from this."
  "It will," she said. "I swear it. You're my only friend, Mara. And I almost threw even that away."
  "Hm," said Mara, folding her arms. "My life isn't 'perfect,' you know. But I'm grateful for all of it. My good fortune could change just as easily, too. I don't want it to, but it could happen. I have lived, and survived, very difficult circumstances. Someday I may be able to tell you of them."
  "I know that you have... scars, because of your father," said Lucinda.
  "Yes," said Mara, and a distant look overcame her until she managed to shake it off. "Um," she said, "I'll see you tonight, yes?" Mara held out her arms for a farewell hug. Lucinda just looked at her uncertainly, so Mara pulled her into an embrace - again - and traded kisses. Then she made her way to the door.
  "Mara?" Lucinda called after her. Mara paused at the door. "Do you think I could still... have my seat beside you?" When Mara just stared in response, she waved her hands nervously. "Never mind. Never mind. I will sit wherever I'm told to."
  Mara shut the door without another word. She took a moment to lean against the wall and fight back her own tears this time. A minute later, she'd managed to reduce her eyes to a moist redness at worst. The thought of spending some relaxing time with her daughter added a smile.

The Pauper Prince - Part 32

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 32

  The first of Mara's "staff meetings" took place one bright morning that was, unfortunately, not warm enough to conduct outside. She, Heather, and Miss Daphne sat around her parlor table while Isabel dozed in a cradle beside her mother. The Princess insisted on pouring the tea and doling out the breakfast food herself. This was nothing terribly unusual for Heather, who was as able to accept the offerings as to serve them. Miss Daphne accepted both the food and drink with some reluctance. She waited for her Lady to take the first bite before starting her own meal, noting that Heather had already started. Her Lady was in high spirits and did not appear to notice any impropriety.
  Mara took a sip from her tea, set it down, and dabbed at her mouth. "Now," she said, "I don't know if these will be useful to us, but I thought it would be good for us to dine and talk together." She giggled once. "I've never had a 'staff' before. I want things to go well for us. Heather, until now you didn't have to 'share' my time, but I'm afraid that you'll have to now. But that's probably good for you, right?" She grinned and winked.
  "Oh," said Heather, "My days will still be full. Don't worry."
  Mara giggled again and patted her knee, then turned her attention to her newest assistant. "Miss Daphne," she said, still smiling, "I was wondering if you've managed to settle in? Are your accommodations to your liking?"
  "I have no complaints, your Highness," was the reply.
  Mara waited for more, but there was none. "Well," she said, "Please let me know if there's anything out of place, or if anything puts you out of sorts. We want you to feel comfortable and welcome here."
  "That is kind of you to inquire, your Highness," said Miss Daphne.
  Coaxing conversation from the nanny was a skill that Mara was still learning by necessity. It was unclear if she had been taught to speak only when spoken to, or was naturally reticent. She cleared her throat. "Um..." she said, looking to Heather as well, "And how have you two been getting on? You met that first day, while I was unconscious, yes?"
  "Unconscious, your Highness?" said Miss Daphne.
  "You know," said Mara. "When I was asleep for so long. 'Unconscious.' But really: I hope that you two are getting on well?"
  "Oh...." said Miss Daphne with a poorly-disguised sigh, "Well enough, your Highness."
  While Mara waited for more, Heather rubbed the back of her neck, then stopped as soon as her Lady's attentions were on her again. Heather pasted on a smile.
  "Well enough," she said.
  Mara looked from one to the other several times, then took a small bite of her breakfast. "That's good," she said. "Sometimes I think I was sensing some... tension between you two, but you both tell me that things are well, so I shouldn't worry."
  "No worries from me, your Highness," said Miss Daphne.
  "...That's good," said Mara more quietly. After another silence, she pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to Heather. "Heather, I'm afraid that I'm still a bit tired, and plan to rest as much as I can today. But I have a list of errands for you. Please let me know if there's anything you can't do today."
  "Of course, ma'am," she said, taking the list and reviewing it. "I don't think I'll have trouble with these. And I must say that your handwriting is much improved."
  Mara smiled and blushed. "Oh, thank you," she said. "It's not nearly as elegant as Kelvin's, but-"
  "There are hardly any inkblots this time," said Heather, and grinned. Mara paused, then forced a smile. Heather put a hand on her knee. "I jest, m'Lady," she said. "I jest. You write very well."
  "Ah," said Mara. "Yes. Well. Anyway: Miss Daphne?"
  "M'Lady."
  "Even if I'm resting, please bring Isabel to me if I'm needed."
  "Very good, your Highness," said Miss Daphne. "But if I may: for true rest, would not using nurses be warranted?"
  "I appreciate your concern," she said, "But my hope is that they'll be available... er, tonight? And if they can't, I'll need to know right away. I wish to be available for my husband. Uninterrupted."
  "...Very good, ma'am," said Miss Daphne, blushing. Heather tried to hide her grin.
  Mara dabbed a piece of bread with some butter, then turned in her chair to watch Isabel sleeping. This was the first time she'd seen her face so still and calm. She started wondering about the sorts of dreams that infants might have, if they dreamed at all. And if they did, did they remember any of them? But then, she could count on one hand the total number of dreams in her life that she ever remembered beyond a few minutes. She could only remember that most of them were - or had been - extremely unpleasant, added to by a parent who stoked her fears, not helped her overcome them. Well, by God, she was going to help her daughter overcome her fears. She would help her chase the nightmares away. She would-
  "Your Highness?" said Miss Daphne.
  Mara snapped from her reverie. "Yes?"
  "Will there be anything else for us?" the nanny asked.
  "Mm, nothing comes to mind," said Mara. "Please; we're here to eat as well as talk. Do clean your plates." She smiled and winked. "I thought we'd just meet, have our meal, talk a bit? A bit of relaxation to start our day. And you know, you don't need to wait for me to say anything. You're always welcome to talk amongst yourselves."
  "Oh," said Heather, shrugging, "We've... spoken enough to each other."
  Mara tilted her head in curiosity, when Miss Daphne cleared her throat. "Your Highness," she said, "If I may: I would like to provide a list of items that I will always need in abundance. For Princess Isabel, of course." Heather made a quiet noise that sounded vaguely like a grunt, but it was hard to tell. "Er..." continued Miss Daphne, "I regret to inform you that I will need someone to make the list for me."
  "Oh, are you unable to write, dear?" said Mara.
  Miss Daphne looked away. "No, your Highness," she said.
  "I can read and write," said Heather.
  "Will you take her dictation?" asked Mara. "Please?" She pointed to a table in the corner laden with a disorganized pile of papers, quills and inkwells. This was their spot when she needed to make room for guests. Usually those items were spread all over her table. Heather frowned discreetly, but stood and made her way to pick through the items.
  "Miss Daphne, would you like to learn to read and write? We could find you a teacher."
  "...Is it your command that I do, your Highness?" she asked.
  "Not at all," said Mara. "I just thought you might like to learn."
  "You are most generous to offer, your Highness," said Miss Daphne, "But I am afraid that I'm too old to learn such things."
  "Oh, you're not old," said Mara, waving it off. "I myself learned barely a year ago. I've found that I enjoy it. In fact... I wish it were something that everyone could learn. Especially women. To my regret, we're not afforded the same opportunities as men."
  "Such is the way of the world, your Highness," said Miss Daphne.
  "Perhaps," said Mara. "But I don't agree with it. I just wish I knew how it could be changed."
  "...With small steps, your Highness?"
  "Yes," said Mara. "What small steps to take, I don't know. There are so many different laws... and traditions... that are against us, I don't know where to start. It's frustrating."
  "You are young, your Highness," said the nanny. "That means you have time. But impatience and impetuousness is a hallmark of youth." Mara raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon, your Highness. I-I did not mean to imply that you are impatient or impetuous."
  "I'm not offended," she said. "I know my faults. Meanwhile: Heather, do you need help finding anything?"
  "No, ma'am! I'm coming!" she called, gathering up writing materials in her arms and trotting over. She plopped in her chair, pushed aside a small space for her to write and set up the materials. She checked the quill and uncapped the ink. "Most of your inkwells are dry," she said.
  "Oh, no," said Mara. "I've tried to be careful with them."
  "Should not your handmaiden be taking care of such things?" said Miss Daphne. Heather tightened her mouth and narrowed her eyes slightly.
  Mara did not seem to notice. She scoffed lightly and waved it off. "Oh, that's all my fault," she said. "I won't let anyone tidy my papers. Else I wouldn't find anything!"
  "I'll take care of the inkwells, ma'am," said Heather, her eyes still on the nanny. "And what do you need, Daphne?"
  "Miss Daphne, if you please."
  "...What do you need, Miss Daphne?" said Heather, tapping the quill.
  "Uh... thank you, Miss Heather," said Miss Daphne quietly. "Your Highness, my list is actually rather small, which I hope pleases you. I'm afraid that I'll need a more ample supply of cloths for Princess Isabel than I'd thought. Also, more candles and matches, but the size and quantity are entirely up to you, your Highness."
  Mara smiled before she realized why she was doing so. Her memories of the lengths that Erick would go to reuse old candles, while hardly fond at the time, had taken on nostalgic airs by now. She patted Miss Daphne's shoulder affectionately, an act met with puzzlement, but not withdrawal.
  "Ask for anything you wish," said Mara. "We'll grant it if in our power."
  "Hm," said Heather quietly. "Anything else?"
  "Ah.... yes," said Miss Daphne. "There was a wind the other night, and a window rattled a bit. It appeared to prevent Princess Isabel from sleeping restfully."
  "Oh, we should definitely have someone look at it," said Mara while Heather wrote.
  "Anything else?" said Heather. "Miss Daphne."
  The nanny looked at her Lady as she spoke. "Ah... I believe that should be all, your Highness. For now, I think."
  "Very good," said Mara. "Heather, will you be a dear and take care of those things?"
  "...Of course," she said flatly, and began tidying up her writing area. Miss Daphne let her gaze wander to the sleeping Isabel. She seemed fixated on watching, but betrayed no emotion in it.
  "Miss Daphne?" said Mara.
  "Ma'am?"
  "I was just wondering if you've managed to make any friends here?" she said. "Besides Heather, of course." She could swear that she heard Heather scoff, but it was too quiet to tell. After a pause:  "I know you haven't been here long, but I hope Isabel hasn't been such a tyrant that you haven't met anyone else?"
  Miss Daphne had a slight tone of alarm in her voice. "Your Highness, I would not dare to refer to the Princess as a tyrant."
  "I jest," said Mara, winking. "We both know - you more than I - how much time is needed for her care. But I am still serious in offering a day of rest, or for instance, ever providing more help. Please don't hesitate to ask."
  "You are most generous, your Highness," said Miss Daphne, "But it is my sacred duty to care for my charges. I offer my life to, and for them, should it ever be necessary. It is the oath that I took when I arrived."
  "The...?" said Mara. "What oath now?"
  "The caretaker's oath, your Highness," she said. "When I...? Oh, yes. I arrived at the time you were birthing. You might still have been resting, but I swore it before their Majesties the King and Queen and his Highness the Prince. I have been remiss; I should swear it to you, as well."
  "That..." said Mara, holding up a hand, "That won't be necessary."
  "Your Highness," said Miss Daphne, confused, "How could it not be?"
  "I believe your dedication to my child," said Mara. "Children, God willing. But did I hear you right? You offer your life... for her? As in... you would die for her? That can't be what you meant?"
  "Your-"
  "I would!" said Heather. "I would die for her."
  "Um... thank you, Heather," said Mara, bemused. "But Miss Daphne: is that what you meant?"
  "Yes, your Highness."
  "And... do you think this is something that I've demanded?"
  "You have not said so," said Miss Daphne, "But it is part of my sacred duty. Your Highness, I don't understand; don't you want a caretaker who's willing to lay down her life for your child? Your family does."
  "Well, it's not that--" said Mara, "I-It's just-- I-I'm honored-- flattered-- that you, a stranger to us,  would make such a vow, and yet-- I-I don't know. I suppose it's not something that... occurred to me?"
  "I would die for her," said Heather. "For Isabel."
  "Yes, Heather. You've said that."
  "Don't you believe me?" she said.
  "Yes, of course," said Mara, patting her hand. "But you're making this seem like some sort of contest."
  "I'd die for you, too, my Lady," she said.
  "Heather, please," said Mara. "I just need to... sort this out a moment. To take this in." She took a deep breath. "I don't really know what to say, actually."
  "Your Highness, it is merely the farthest end of my devotion to my duty," said Miss Daphne. "Not the beginning. It is hardly my wish to die. It is simply how far I must go to fulfill my duty."
  "I understand," said Mara quietly. She met Miss Daphne's gaze and showed a small smile. The nanny was still unused to eye contact and tried to look away, but Mara wagged her finger, then pointed to her face. She spoke gently. "Remember: straighten up, look me in the eye, a-"
  "And call her Mara!" finished Heather, grinning. Mara stiffened a little, but managed a smile over the interruption.
  "I would not feel right using our Lady's name," said Miss Daphne to Heather. To her Lady: "This does not offend, I hope?"
  "No, it doesn't," said Mara distractedly. She had begun watching Isabel again.
  "Hm," said Heather, "I've sworn no oaths, but you know that I'm devoted to you, right, Mara?"
  "Hm?" said Mara. "Yes, of course I know that, dear. No one doubts this."
  "I would die for you and Isabel."
  "Look, enough talk about everyone dying for everyone," said Mara, waving her hands. "Please! This is not how I imagined our morning meetings to be. We're all willing to die for each other; let's leave it at that!"
  "Not everyone, your Highness," said Miss Daphne. "For Isabel and you."
  Heather's mouth dropped. "My Lady, did you hear that?"
  "Insolent whelp," Miss Daphne muttered.
  "What?" said Heather.
  "What?" said Mara.
  "I have tolerated your mocking and belittling of my ways," said Miss Daphne, "But I will not tolerate belittling of my oath! It is a sacred, noble calling to be a caretaker!"
  "Miss Daphne-"
  Heather gasped. "Mocking and belit-?? My Lady, I have done none of that!" She pointed at the nanny. "I tried from the start to be kind and friendly to you, but was met with-- with stiffness and disdain! And lectures about 'propriety!'"
  "I know my manners and I know my place, you impertinent child! I treat Her Highness with respect, unlike you!"
  "Ladies-?"
  Heather was momentarily flabbergasted. "Wh-? Wh-? I have the greatest respect for her! Mara, does she speak the truth? Am I disrespectful to you?"
  "You are impertinent to her!"
  "Oh, 'impertinent' again," said Heather. "Is that your favorite word? I've heard it a score of times since you arrived!"
  "I use words that fit, and it fits for you!" said Miss Daphne.
  Heather scoffed. "Shall I think of words that fit for you? Because I can think of plenty!"
  "Ladies-!"
  "Go ahead!" said Miss Daphne. "Are they any that I've heard muttered under your breath? 'Stick in the mud?' 'Fogy?' 'Old maid?'"
  Mara gasped. "Heather, you didn't!"
  "My Lady," said Heather, "She has never been married or had children of her own! How would she be able to take care of other's children, if never her own?"
  "Heather, you go too far!"
  "Thank you, your Highness."
  "You're not innocent here, either!"
  "Daphne, I explained to you that she's not stiff and formal, and instead got a lecture about 'manners' and 'knowing my place!' And then she explained it herself, and still you're like this!"
  "It is Miss Daphne-!"
  "Oh, please unstuff yourself!"
  Mara gasped. "Heather!"
  "Impudent, churlish hellion!"
  "Miss Daphne!"
  "Saggy, naggy, baggy sack of stuffing!"
  "Heather!"
  The women's insults immediately devolved into an overlapping cacophony that grew in intensity and volume as they tried to out-shout and out-slander each other. For some time Mara could only watch in stunned horror as her experiment in camaraderie became all-out battle before her eyes. She tried to think of one mighty, commanding word that would put a stop to it instantly, but could not think beyond "Hey!", which would not do.
  "Contemptuous brat!" "Oak bends more than you do!" "A stain upon your profession!" "Bitter old harridan!"
  The shouting match became a loud drone to her ears, until finally the stunned horror gave way to anger. Fierce, righteous anger. The same anger that the Queen had directed at her not long ago. She set her mouth and made a fist of both her hands. She raised one fist to strike the table with all her might. She would punctuate it with a mighty "ENOUGH!" just like the Queen had... and then she was beaten to it.
  A louder, shriller sound pierced the air, and all women stopped and turned at once to Isabel's cradle. Now that the war of words had been silenced, her cry seemed enough to shatter windows and wake the dead. Both mother and nanny reached for Isabel simultaneously, but mother was closer. Both women began wrapping their arms around her. Mara turned on the nanny and made a sound like a hiss and a growl. Miss Daphne let go immediately and fell back in her chair so hard that it almost tottered backwards.
  Heather took a turn to placate her. "M-my Lady, I never meant to-"
  "Silence!"
  Heather was also jolted up in fright, and fell quiet. Mara had Isabel fully in her arms now. She laid her shrieking daughter over her shoulder and began rubbing her back.
  "Your Highness," said Miss Daphne, "Please. I beg your-"
  "Shhh!"
  "B-but I have failed in my-"
  "Are there other meanings for 'Shh' and 'Silence??'" said Mara. "Stop! Speaking! Both of you!"
  She glared at them, one to the other, daring them to speak. Heather made a "lock with a key" motion on her lips, which did not amuse her Lady.
  "Nobody leave, either," Mara growled, and stood up to take Isabel into the bedroom. Her cries were heard from the other room. Neither woman in the parlor dared to leave, speak, or even look at each other, for that matter.
  Mara used the time calming Isabel to calm herself, as well. It was probably just as well that the arguing had upset the little Princess so; it had interrupted her mother from acting on her anger. She had had a fist ready for both of them, but now, while rubbing her daughter's back and speaking softly, soothingly, to her, it gave her time to think about what words to use when she returned to the parlor.
  Four very long and uncomfortable minutes later, Isabel had been successfully pacified, and was sleeping once more. Mara held her a little longer and paced a little longer before returning to the parlor. To their credit, both women were just as she'd left them. As she slowly and carefully placed Isabel back in her cradle, Miss Daphne hesitantly reached out, then withdrew when Mara looked her way.
  Satisfied that her daughter was still asleep, she seated herself and felt the tea pot, which was no longer hot. She frowned, but took some more bread and dipped it into a marmalade and chewed on it while thinking.
  "I still don't want either of you speaking," she said quite calmly, "Yet. I'll speak my mind first, and then let you offer your... rebuttals. Does that sound fair?" She looked at each woman, who both nodded quietly.
  "So..." she said, dabbing at her mouth, "My suspicions were correct, after all. There is some tension between you two." She felt her throat tightening, and looked away while fighting it off. "This makes me sad. From my standpoint, I see no reason why you two can't work together. Never mind friends at this point, though I'd had the foolish notion that it might happen. But... to at least be cordial to one another, well..." She shrugged. "I suppose I have the authority or something to order you to get along, but I won't do that, because that's stupid and silly. But I'll see what I can do. Miss Daphne?"
  The nanny snapped to attention.
  "Your profession is noble," she said. "And honorable, and admirable. You don't know how grateful I am to have you here with us. Truly. And... your manner is very formal, it's true, but I respect that. I'd still rather that you didn't call me 'your Highness' in every sentence, but it's your way, so I'll respect that, too. But please understand this: I will judge, for myself, who is 'impertinent' to me. Not you. Do you understand me?"
  Miss Daphne opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it and simply nodded. Vigorously.
  "If you believe that Heather has done or said anything offensive to you," Mara continued, "Then we'll work that out. It may take time, but we will do that. You have my word."
  Miss Daphne considered this a moment, then nodded again.
  "Heather?" said Mara, now turning towards her. Heather had trouble making eye contact, but managed. "There is nothing to sneer at about Miss Daphne being unmarried or without children of her own. Do you understand me?" Heather cocked her head in confusion. "Do you understand me?" Heather was startled almost into speaking, but clamped her mouth shut and nodded.
  "I won't order you to get along." said Mara, "But I will do this." She looked at Heather. "Her way is formal." Then to Miss Daphne: "Her way is informal." Then one to the other. "Tolerate it!"
  She became visibly agitated in spite of her efforts to be calm. To be queenly. "Honestly, the two of you..." she muttered, then seemed to "shake out" her irritation. "Ugh! I will not have the only members of my new staff at each other's throats! I will not! I-- I am ashamed of both of you! There! It's been said!"
  "My Lady-!" said Heather, then clamped both hands over her mouth.
  Mara glared, then waved her on. "Oh, go on," she said. "You may speak."
  Heather slowly uncovered her mouth. She straightened out her skirt and fixed her hair while gathering her courage. "Thank you," she said. "Your Highness. You're right. And... Miss Daphne is right, too. I've behaved very poorly." She turned towards Miss Daphne. "I hope you can forgive me."
  "Of course, dear," said Mara.
  "I meant Miss Daphne," said Heather. The nanny cocked an eyebrow. "Your work is very important, and... you are completely dedicated to it and... No, it doesn't matter that you've had no children of your own. I-In fact, it's probably made you a better caretaker. You know, freed up your time to spend on other people's-"
  "That's fine, Heather," said Mara. "That's fine."
  "Sorry."
  "Miss Daphne?" said Mara. "Can you forgive her?"
  The nanny looked from one woman to the other, then sighed. "If it pleases your Highness," she said, "Then yes, I can."
  "I have nothing to do with this," said Mara. "Don't make this about what would please me. The forgiveness must come from you."
  "...Then I must think about it," said Miss Daphne. Heather and Mara traded looks. "But I must beg your forgiveness, your Highness," she continued. "I brought shame upon myself. I allowed myself to become enraged, and caused harm to the Princess Isabel. I have failed in my duties."
  "She cried," said Mara. "There will be no executions today."
  "It would still be prudent to punish me for it," said Miss Daphne. "I am prepared for whatever you deem appropriate."
  "Um..." said Mara, looking first to Isabel, then Isabel's caretaker. "Don't do it again. There: you've been punished."
  "...My Lady?"
  "What do you expect me to do?" said Mara. She rolled up her sleeves enough for the women to see some of her scars. "Don't pretend you haven't seen any of these while I feed Isabel. Most of them came courtesy of my father. He believed very strongly in 'punishment.' For any transgression. I'm not interested in following in his footsteps." She leaned forward. "Look, your oath is very solemn and noble, but you make too much of it. If I, her mother, am not flying into a raaage that she's been made to cry, then neither should you. For goodness' sake, you've not failed me. The shame was in you two hurling insults at each other with abandon. That is something... I do not tolerate. I try very hard to be fair, but also not to be a frightening figure, like many high-born seem to enjoy. It's not my way. Do you understand?"
  "I think so, your Highness."
  "I expect the same of my assistants. Fairness. Cooperation. Kindness."
  "Yes, your Highness."
  "We call her the Princess of the People," said Heather, grinning and nodding.
  Mara groaned. "Ohh, not this again,"
  "But it's true!" said Heather. "Miss Daphne, I think you couldn't find a single servant here who doesn't love her. You were there when she rewarded Adrienne the midwife. She's kind to everyone, and cares about them, and goes out of her way to-"
  "Ahhhhh, Heather, enough," said Mara, waving her hands.
  "...And is very humble about it," she finished, and winked. Mara, cheeks red, folded her arms and pretended to be cross with her assistant, but could not maintain the illusion. Heather then became somber. She put a hand on Mara's. "My Lady," she said, "And I say that with affection. I beg your forgiveness, too. I lost my temper and was wrong for it. And I teased you earlier; that was wrong. I forgot that you're very sensitive about your struggles with writing. And I probably should be more formal than I have been of late."
  Mara shook her head and sighed. "You're fine, dear," she said. "But thank you." She gestured to Miss Daphne. "Your way is fine." To Heather: "Your way is fine. As long as you both fulfill your duties as best as you can. Anything else is... details."
  She waited for a reply, and when there was none: "Right?"
  "Oh, right!" said Heather. "I didn't know you were waiting for an answer."
  "Right," said Miss Daphne. "Your Highness."

*********************

  The women left to resume their respective duties, leaving Mara to prepare for more rest. She brought her sleeping clothes to the bed. Rather than put them on and sleep, she sat on the edge of the bed and thought. After an unknown amount of time, she stood and made her way to Kelvin's chambers next door. To her relief he was there, looking over some no-doubt-important papers. He set them down at her approach and smiled. Without a word she hurried to him and first kissed him quickly, then fell into his arms, resting her chin on his shoulder and closing her eyes.
  "Oh, no," he said. "A bad day already?"
  "Mmmm," she said. "I'll tell you in time. But for now, will you just hold me?"
  He did not reply, but wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.

The Pauper Prince - Part 31

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 31

  Mara was by herself on the throne room's dais, sitting in her designated chair to the right of the Queen's. The Queen herself was not seated, but standing off to the side with the rest of the family. Mara had asked her to perform this ceremony for her, but the Queen's reply was simple: "No." It was the Princess' idea, and so it would be her responsibility to see it through. Writing the speech, making the presentation...
  One hour before the ceremony she had thrust the speech at Kelvin and requested advice. To her relief he was fine with it, until he mentioned in passing her memorizing it. This had not been brought to her attention previously, but then, he did have a point: standing there and reading a speech at someone, rather than delivering it as memorized, looked a bit more prepared and thus more regal and leaderly. Kelvin also agreed with the Queen that it was her honor to conduct the ceremony and no one else's. In other words, No, he would not conduct it for her, either. Last of all, once he realized that this would be her first time performing such a ceremony, and by herself, he announced that he would watch. His thought: I will support my wife. Her thought: The more people watching me, the more likely I will botch it.
  The King had not planned on attending, but Kelvin had changed his mind for him. Mara was aware of their presence, but tried avoiding eye contact with them. More reasons to be nervous, she did not need. But at one point curiosity got the better of her, and Kelvin managed to catch her attention. He flashed one of those smiles that had melted away the ice encasing her heart not so long ago. She could not help replying with one of her own before looking away and fighting to keep a serious expression. A regal expression. A queenly expression. She had tried to memorize her speech, but kept sneaking peeks at the words. It was not easy pretending that she was as calm as a sunset.
  She could have really used a big bowl of nuts just then.
  At the Princess' request Miss Daphne was also here, standing near the royal family and holding Isabel, who was mostly quiet save for a few brief, random outbursts that Mara had been assured were simply "noises that infants make." Heather stood beside Miss Daphne and was a model of quiet dignity and grace.
  Solomon walked in and announced the visitors. Adrienne walked in first, followed by her husband and Annabelle. They looked nervously around the room, and Adrienne swallowed once upon seeing the royal family standing to the side of the room. But her friend was right ahead, sitting alone. It was odd to see, but somehow comforting.
  Adrienne and her family stopped a dozen feet from the thrones. Mara rose, pretending not to be even more nervous than her friend, adjusted her clothing, fidgeted with her rings, and nodded to Adrienne's husband and Annabelle to indicate that they should leave her side. They moved to one side of the room and looked on apprehensively. Meanwhile the Queen moved away from the King and Prince so Mara could see her from the corner of her eye.
  Mara realized she still had her speech tucked under her arm and quickly set it on the chair. She cleared her throat quietly and tried to remember how it was supposed to begin.
  "Uh, thank you for coming," she said, and smiled, mostly in an effort to buy time to remember. Adrienne smiled back, then waited patiently.
  She heard the Queen also quietly clearing her throat. Mara looked over to see the Queen holding out her hand and subtly pushing down with it. Perplexed, Mara began bending her knees, prompting the Queen to shake her head and hands vigorously. She recomposed herself, pointed subtly at Adrienne, and repeated the "down" gesture. Mara finally understood and nodded, then stopped abruptly after realizing that Adrienne was seeing her do this.
  Mara took in a breath. "Please kneel," she said, mimicking the Queen's "down" gesture.
  Adrienne paused, then lowered herself to one knee. She grunted quietly after reaching the hard, stone floor, but was stoic thereafter.
  "Adrienne Meriwether..." said Mara, and then completely forgot what the rest was supposed to be. When in the course of... No. We are gathered here today... No! Idiot! She's your friend! Speak to her! Say something! She can't have a knee on hard ground all day, for goodness' sake!
  "You have shown excelle-- exception-- exemplary skill and knowledge," she said finally, "In your duties and responsibilities as midwife, not just to myself, but to all others under your care. It was... it was your skill, your knowledge, your experience, your... resourcefulness, that served you so well on the day of my daughter's birth."
  As if on cue, Isabel let out another random sound. This served to ease Mara's fears somewhat. She looked down and smiled, then glanced at Isabel before forcing her expression to be nice and serious for her presentation. She took another breath.
  "Adrienne," she said, wholly abandoning whatever it was she'd written. "Because of you, our new Princess lives. You found a way to ensure it. Because of you, I live. The same threat that took my own mother's life, you fought against and won. I am..." She spread her arms. "We are eternally grateful to you."
  "For your dedication to your craft, for your years of caring for others... for your years of caring about others, we commend you, and it is my esteemed pleasure... my pride... my joy that our beloved King and Queen have granted me the power and the authority to bestow upon you the title of Royal Midwife. So henceforth-- Oh, do forgi-- I mean-- Please: rise. You may rise, dear." She grimaced to herself and hoped nobody heard her say "dear."
  Adrienne stood with some minor difficulty and was unable to hide her surprise. Mara could not tell if it was a pleasant surprise or not, but kept on. "Are you able to read well?" she said. "To write?"
  Adrienne shrugged. "I... Enough to get by. Your Highness."
  "That's all right," said Mara. She had been trying to hide her joy behind a mask of regality, but abandoned that, too. Her smile overflowed with pride. She was close to walking over and clasping the midwife's hands, too, but managed to stop herself. "You will be supplied with a writer, an artist, or whomever you need. You will record your technique for preventing breech births, so that other women and children will benefit from your knowledge. So that others might live. It will be made available to any who desire and be spread throughout the land. Other midwives may seek you out for counseling and training. Other women may journey here just for your ministrations. It is almost assured that you will receive much more business. Is this something that you're prepared for?"
  Adrienne could only stare in shock at first. Mara winked on the side away from the royal family. Finally Adrienne snapped out of her trance. "Uh, uh, yes, your Highness," she said, making head bows. "I am quite prepared. I thank you. Most kindly."
  Mara held up her hand. "And also, as Royal Midwife, you will be provided with a small, annual retainer for your new duties and responsibilities to the royal family. It is you who will provide birthing care for any and all future... ah, members of the family. Are you prepared for this?"
  "Oh... I... Yes, your Highness!" said Adrienne breathlessly. Mara stole a glance at Adrienne's family. She could not read past her husband's shocked expression, but could tell even from there that Annabelle's eyes were red from tears.
  "Bear in mind that the retainer is--" Mara held up her thumb and index finger. "Small. Not enough to make your living, but a boost in business, we hope."
  "Yes," said Adrienne, "Yes, of course, my Lady. Thank you." She turned to face the royal family. "And thank you, your Majesties!" The King and Queen acknowledged her with very subtle head bows.
  "Adrienne," said Mara gently. The midwife looked her way. "Thank you. Now, don't let us keep you from your day. I hope that you'll consider celebrating, but if not... I'll understand why. God bless you."
  Adrienne forgot where she was and who was watching, and began to rush forward, then remembered just in time, and backed away. The royal family came her way, though, and offered their own congratulations. Mara beckoned to Miss Daphne and Heather to join them and her. The King and Queen offered their hands to kiss, which she ran through in rapid succession, including the Prince's. She cooed over Isabel and smiled at Heather, who also needed to wipe away a tear or two.
  Mara offered her hand for kissing to be in step with the rest of the family, but Adrienne either did not see it or ignored it, and fell into a hug with her. Mara was startled, but recovered quickly, and began patting her back. Adrienne suddenly realized her faux pas and backed away from her and the others, bowing and apologizing and thanking them all the while. Mara smiled and wiggled her fingers to her in a most unregal form of waving.
  After Adrienne and family had exited the room, Mara stopped her wiggly-wave and smiled at her in-laws. Kelvin seemed pleased, but her in-laws looked more skeptical. "Ah," she said, "Father. Mother Queen. Again, I'm most grateful to you for abiding this. I know that it wasn't perfect, but-"
  "Your speech was too long," said the King.
  "...Yes, Sire."
  "You smiled too much," said the Queen. "And called her 'dear.'"
  "Yes, Mother Queen."
  "And you allowed her to embrace your royal personage," said the King.
  "She was... quite pleased by the news?" said Mara.
  "Remember: dignity," said the Queen. "Always, dignity."
  "Yes, Mother Queen," said Mara.
  "You forgot to wear your tiara," said the King. Mara's eyes went wide. She felt at the top of her head. "It is a symbol of your authority."
  "I am so sorry, Father," she said. "You'd said that, and I forgot to retrieve it from the vault!"
  The Queen and King exchanged looks, then with Kelvin. The Queen cleared her throat. "Other than that," she said, "Well done." The King grunted and nodded in agreement. With that, they both departed to attend to other business.
  Kelvin waited for them to leave before stepping up and putting an arm around her. "Hm," he said. "They were impressed."
  "I can tell," said Mara. "They could scarcely contain themselves over the criticism."
  He squeezed her affectionately. "You know Mother and Father," he said. "They're compelled to keep instructing you... and me. Their 'well done' is anyone else's epic poem."
  Mara scoffed, then was quiet while considering this. "What about you?" she said. "What advice do you have?"
  He looked up to think of a reply and scratched the back of his neck. Finally, he just shrugged. "Well, it was all you," he said, which did not help her understand. "Practice. That's all I have. For your first time, bestowing a title? 'Well done,' say I, too. It's a good feeling, isn't it?"
  She looked down and smiled. "Yes," she said. "I'm so glad I was able to honor her. She had asked me not to 'exalt' her, but also wanted more business, and after speaking with Mother Queen, this was the most effective way I could think of to make it happen. Now I suppose it's our duty to give her more business, too, yes?"
  She looked his way and smiled slyly, which got a blank look at first. Then he raised an eyebrow.
  "You have shameful thoughts, wife," he said. She giggled shamelessly.