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PhantomVulpix — Twice Upon a Time ~ Part One
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Published: 2015-03-25 04:43:42 +0000 UTC; Views: 2544; Favourites: 2; Downloads: 0
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~~~ Twice Upon a Time ~~~(Part One)
~Prologue~
Once upon a time, there was a small kingdom. In this kingdom lived a merchant who had lost his wife, but, in the process, had gained a beautiful daughter. The merchant loved his daughter, and the two of them were very happy. But one day, while out traveling, the merchant suddenly died. He had only just remarried, and thusly left his dear child in the clutches of her evil stepmother and stepsisters. They abused her mightily as their personal slave, and she lived in misery. That is, until one day when she learned that a Royal Ball was to be held at the palace.
Once upon a time, there was a small kingdom. In this kingdom lived a merchant who had lost his wife, but, in the process, had gained a beautiful daughter. The merchant loved his daughter, and the two of them were very happy. He brought her up himself, teaching her the merchant’s trade, and even sending her to the town school for a time. He made sure there was never a time when she felt unloved or unsafe. She was thankful for all she had, and lived in contentment. That is, until one day when she learned that a Royal Ball was to be held at the palace.
~~1~~
Adele and her father lived in a great stone house just outside of a moderately sized village, which lay nearby a moderately sized castle, the inhabitants of which ruled over a moderately sized kingdom. The house had once been a grand estate, filled with tenants and servants and animals. But now, only Adele and her father called it home. It was too big for them and tended to get drafty in the colder months, but they were too happy to notice. Their joy made it warm and inviting.
Adele’s father was a merchant, and her young mind was fascinated by all of the products he traded in. Bits and bobs, cookware, jewelry, farming tools, anything really. But, by far, her favorite was textiles. She absolutely adored seeing the yards and yards of beautiful fabric that he would bring home to resell later in town. Bright colors, intricate patterns, luxurious textures; it was a feast for her eyes that always satisfied.
She also especially loved the rare occasions when her father would bring her along with him to court. The merchant class was that odd bridge between the nobility and peasantry. Though they lacked titles and most of the benefits of nobility, merchants were allowed access to the castle grounds for business purposes and were, sometimes, invited to royal functions. Adele always looked forward to going with her father to the castle. She had never actually been inside it, but the courtyard was good enough for her. Her father would constantly be meeting with some courtier or another about some trade agreement that Adele never paid very much attention to. Her focus always found itself elsewhere, on the beautiful gowns that all of the ladies wore. It was the most sincere dream of her little girlish heart to one day wear a gown even half as incredible as the ones she saw there at court.
And so it was for the early part of Adele’s life. Her existence consisted of her father and herself. She had never known her mother, but her father told her stories upon stories so that Adele almost felt as if her mother were still with them.
She had inherited her mother’s looks, but her father’s mind. It absorbed information like a sponge. She may not have paid any mind to her father’s business dealings when there were fine dresses to be beheld, but at home she became her father’s apprentice. She learned much about the geography and economy of the world and its countries. She spent hours at his side, learning all she could. But for all her eagerness and promise of ability, her father worried about Adele. She couldn’t see why though. They had all they needed. A roof over their heads, a profitable trade, and each other. What could possibly be lacking?
~~2~~
When Adele was about eight years old, her world began to expand. She began taking school lessons in the village three days every week. Like any small child, she would have much preferred to be outside, exploring the woods or fishing in the lake she’d discovered hidden in the trees behind their house. But she went, and without fuss, because she wanted to please her father.
Later the same year, her world expended even more with the arrival of their very first neighbors.
One of her father’s old business contacts from the other side of the kingdom had unexpectedly passed away. As was a matter of course, her father sent a note to his friend’s widow expressing his condolences, and, in return, received a rather unexpected reply. The widow explained that, against all societal norms, she was going to continue running her late husband’s textile trade. She had many contacts in and outside of the kingdom, and could acquire a wide range of exotic fabrics. But many of her husband’s old partners refused to work with a woman. She was now writing to everyone she could, imploring them to continue business with her. If she didn’t start gaining traction soon, she would run out of money, and she and her young son would have to sell their estate. They could barely afford to keep it now, let alone if things got worse.
Adele’s father felt an immediate kinship for the woman. He had met her once before on a trip to look over some of his late friend’s goods. She had seemed perfectly levelheaded and capable. And after all, he was himself raising his own daughter to be a member of the mercantile trade. He resolved to do all that he could and, not only readily agreed to continue purchasing fabrics from her, also told her of a property very near to his that might be of interest. It was a small piece of land with a simple but spacious house. The perfect amount of space for herself and a growing boy. And not only would it be cheaper to maintain, it would also bring her closer to the Royal Court, which could only be good for business.
After a few more letters, it was all arranged. The next thing Adele knew, her father was sweeping her up onto his shoulders and carrying her out to their carriage. He was a strongly built man, though not very tall. Of course, to Adele he seemed as tall as a mountain. His dark hair was beginning to gray slightly at the temples, though he wasn’t very old. His features looked like they had originally been carved from stone, but that the stone had worn down a bit over time. But Adele’s favorite part of her father’s appearance was his eyes. They could be the shrewd, discerning eyes of a business man one minute, and the warm, caring eyes of a doting parent the next. And when he smiled, Adele felt like the whole world could be crashing down around them and she wouldn’t be worried at all. He smiled now as he set her in the seat next to him.
“We’re going to go help some new friends unpack their things, my dear,” he said as he took up the reins. “Who knows? Perhaps the young lad will be around your age and the two of you can play. You need more young people your age to play with. I fear you spend far too much time in the company of dull adults like me.”
“You’re not dull, Papa!” she cried. “I love being with you!”
He chuckled. “I know, love. But still, I think it would do you good to make a friend.”
Adele thought about that as the horses began trotting forward. She’d never really had a friend before. Oh, sometimes she’s run around with the other children at court if there were no dresses that caught her attention, and there were her classmates at the village school. But this was different. These new people would be her neighbors. What if they didn’t get along? What if this new boy teased her about her frizzy hair or lanky build? Some of the village boys had done that. She had almost hit one of them for it, but her father had stepped in. what if this boy was like that? You couldn’t very well go around hitting neighbors. It just wasn’t civilized.
She was still fretting over various possibilities as they pulled up to the long house with the thatched roof. There was a woman standing by a cart just outside the front door. When she saw them, she waved and shouted a greeting. Adele guessed that she was about ten years older than her own father, judging by her significantly more grayed head of hair. She wore it back in a bun that Adele supposed had been neat to start out with, but which was quickly becoming loose and messy with work.
Adele’s father brought their carriage to a halt, jumped down, and secured the horses. Adele climbed down and followed him as he walked toward the woman by the cart.
“So glad that you made it here all right! Did you have to travel through that storm?”
The woman shook her head. “No, bless my soul, we were able to find an inn right as it hit. We waited it out there before making the final leg. Heavens, this pretty thing must be Adele!”
“It is, indeed!” her father beamed as Adele peered up at them. “And your youngster must be around here someplace?”
“Mm, exploring the house, I think. We only got here a little while ago. I’ve gotten most of the smaller boxes and things in, but I was waiting for you so we could bring in the heavier pieces. Care to help me with this table?”
“Of course! That’s why I’m here. Adele, why don’t you and this fine young man run along and have fun. We’ll take care of the furniture.”
It was then that Adele noticed the little boy peeking around from the inside of the doorway. He slowly advanced, at his mother’s insistence, and came to stand by the front of the cart. She couldn’t tell how old he was. His face led her to believe that he might be a few years her senior, but she was a good few inches taller than he was. Though that wouldn’t be unusual, she told herself. She was taller than most other children her age. It wouldn’t be improbable for her to be taller than someone a few years older. He had a mass of tousled brown hair, light blue eyes, and a frown that clearly said he didn’t want to be there. Adele’s heart started sinking. She dug the toe of her shoe into the ground, began chewing her lip, and wondered if it would be neighborly to tell him to lighten up. But before she had a chance to address him, he addressed her.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Adele.”
“…..You and your father live nearby?”
“Uh-huh. Just down the road.”
“…..Do you have any brothers?”
“No.” she said, irritated.
“Oh…”
They stood there, awkwardly. She was about to go inside and hover unhelpfully by her father rather than stand out there next to a boy who obviously was disappointed to have a girl for a neighbor, but before she could do so, he spoke again.
“Bet I can beat you to that big oak tree,” he shrugged, as if at a loss for anything else to say or do.
“Bet you can’t,” she replied as her eyes narrowed.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
There were a few seconds of glaring and silence before the two of them tore off toward the tree as if their lives depended on it. Adele picked up her skirt and pumped her legs as fast as she could in a most unladylike manner. Her competitor kept good pace, but she managed to stay just barely ahead. The grass and brush whipped past them as they hurtled closer to the tree. With her arm outstretched, braced for the imminent impact, Adele slammed into the rough bark mere seconds before the young boy beside her.
“Wow!” he exclaimed as the two of them collapsed to the ground gasping for breath. “You’re really fast! It’s probably because you’re so tall. It must be nice to have such long legs and arms!”
Adele stared at him as the two of them continued to suck in deep breaths. His sour countenance seemed to melt away with the thrill of the race. Maybe he wouldn’t be such a bad neighbor after all. Not only that, he had complimented her on her build rather than tease her about it. That surprised and delighted her. Adele had won the race, but she had a feeling that she had won his respect. That was far more valuable.
“Do you think your mother would let you come over to my house?” she asked. “There are some really great climbing trees in our woods. You can get even higher than the muzzle of a warhorse!”
“Really? That sounds like fun! I’ve never climbed a tree before. Our old house was in the middle of a big town. All the trees were too tiny.”
A bit of the sadness came back into his face. It must have been hard for him, she thought, losing his father and leaving his home. She would probably frown a lot too if she’d gone through that. Thinking about it made her want to cheer him up again. After all, they were neighbors now. They had to look out for each other.
“So do you think your mother would let you come climb for a bit?” she asked again.
“Sure, I can’t see why not!” he said, the sadness flitting away as he smiled wide. “Let’s go ask!”
They ran back to the doorway and into the house. Adele never expected it to be so easy, especially considering the first few minutes of their meeting. But, just like that, Adele had made her very first friend.
His name was Philippe.
~~3~~
Adele had initially been worried that Philippe would tease her. Well, he did, and she teased him right back in equal measure. But it was all in good fun. Their good-natured banter and general love of mischief helped cement their bond over the years. It got to the point that, where you found one, the other was surely nearby. Their favorite activities included skipping rocks in the tiny lake just into the woods behind Adele’s house, stalking deer and trying to get as close to the animals as possible before scaring them, and, of course, racing. Racing everywhere. It was a constant battle throughout their childhoods to see which of them could best the other on any given day. But it wasn’t only with each other that they bonded. Adele’s father took Philippe under his wing and always made sure Philippe knew that he could come to him with any questions about the duties and responsibilities of manhood. Likewise, Philippe’s mother was a surrogate for Adele. She taught her how to sew and cook and all manner of other household things.
But Adele wasn’t the only one who was taught to sew. Philippe had an incredible eye for design. He used some of the fabrics his mother dealt in to create some of the most beautiful clothing Adele had ever seen. When he was fifteen, he began a small business of his own selling his garments to courtiers and higher class peasantry. He was a surprising success.
When the two of them had been younger, Adele and Philippe had often taken whole afternoons to sit on one of the walls of the castle grounds and watch the members of nobility enjoying the gardens or courtyard. They had observed the gowns of the ladies and the doublets of the gentlemen, commenting on aspects and fabrics they either liked or didn’t like. Now they were in their teenage years. Philippe still had an unruly mass of brown hair. He’d finally grown taller than her though, which made for a different dynamic when they raced. He was lean, but muscular too from lifting heavy bolts of leathers and velvets. As for Adele, her hair had smoothed some, but it was still thick and airy and wafted around her shoulders like a great brunette cloud. Her limbs were still long, but her curves had begun to grow in and better balance her proportions. They still made time to sit on the walls in the castle grounds, but now the game was for Philippe to ask Adele if she could pick out his craftsmanship amidst the sea of silks and taffetas.
It was a fine summer day, and all of the dresses at court reflected this. They were made of lighter fabrics. They were dyed in lighter colors. Philippe and Adele were sitting on a bench opposite a hedge maze, observing the many members of nobility who were out enjoying the gardens. Philippe was glancing smugly from Adele to the courtiers and back again.
Finally she pointed to one and smiled. “That one’s yours.”
“Psh. You got lucky,” he said. “Go on, I bet you can’t do it again.”
Adele raised an eyebrow and scanned the garden. The embroidery of a gallant’s vest almost immediately caught her attention. “Blue vest, two o’clock.” She said haughtily as she turned back to him.
Philippe threw up his hands, even though he was clearly impressed. “That’s the fifteenth in a row over the course of four days. I give up! How can you tell?”
“I can always tell,” she shrugged. “Yours are the ones that are better.”
The color rose slightly in Philippe’s face. He puffed up his chest with pride like a rooster. Then, with mock modesty he insisted, “Oh, you’re just saying that because you’re my friend. You’re obligated.”
“To be honest…you’re right, actually. Gosh, I didn’t want you to have to find out this way. The real reason I can always tell your work from the rest is because it’s so stunningly bad. I really don’t know why people wear it in public. Maybe they’re the down and out members of nobility who can’t afford better?”
“Adele?”
“Hm?”
“Do shut up.”
“Oh, don’t worry. You know I’m kidding. You’re probably one of the best tailors in the kingdom. I’d love to buy a dress from you.”
He grinned, and shot back, “You couldn’t afford me.”
“What, you wouldn’t just make me one out of the goodness of your heart?”
“Absolutely not! I give discounts to Counts and bargains to Barons. You, on the other hand, I’d probably charge ten percent more.”
Adele did her best to act indignant. She crossed her arms angrily, but she had to turn away so he wouldn’t see evidence of the smile she was trying unsuccessfully to force back. “Wretch! Cretin! I’ll go home right now and tell Papa never to do business with you again!”
“Okay. I’ll walk you home. But should we stop by my house first? I think Mother was planning to bake a pie today.”
“…..Peach pie?”
“Uhhh, let me think. No, I’m pretty sure she said rhubarb.”
He stood up and came around to the side of the bench. Adele grinned up at him. He rolled his eyes and jerked his head toward the gate before heading in its direction. Adele giggled and skipped after him.
~~4~~
And so the years continued to go for them. It had now been twelve years since they had become neighbors. Adele was twenty and Philippe was twenty-three. They still exchanged barbs like children. But Adele began to see her friend in an increasingly different way. She was beginning to see him as a man rather than a boy. She supposed it made sense, having been so close for so long. But if Philippe’s feelings for her were turning in the same direction, he gave no indication. He treated her as he always had. Though, to be fair, she treated him like she always had. On occasion, she did try to drop a subtle word or glance, hoping he would get the hint. Heaven only knew if she were succeeding. She’d never had any practice before. But the more she tried, the less it seemed she saw of him. He was more and more frequently in town at the little workshop he’d opened for orders. She was happy for his success, but she missed the lazy summer days they used to spend together. That’s why she was surprised to see him early one morning swinging from his horse onto the gravel of her front walk. She folded the tablecloth she’d been shaking out and set it on the steps.
“I thought you’d be in town all this week working on orders. Goodness, are you okay? Your face is all red.”
“You’ll never guess what I’ve got!”
“If it’s the pox, then stay away from me,” she drawled sarcastically.
“Oh, don’t be an idiot. Look!”
Philippe pulled out two thick envelopes with embossed gold filigree. Adele had never seen one before, but she knew what it was from overhearing some of their more affluent customer’s conversations.
“Mercy, those are royal invitations, aren’t they?”
“Sure are,” Philippe grinned. “I’ve got yours too. They’re going out to everybody in the kingdom, merchant class and above. You’ll see why when you read it. Anyway, they dropped this off at our house and I asked them if I could deliver yours to you and your dad. I wanted to see your face.”
“Well then stop keeping me hanging in suspense and just give be the blessed thing! Let me read it!”
“All right, all right. Contain yourself. Really! Such an unladylike display.”
While Philippe was feigning disapproval, Adele was tearing open the gorgeous envelope. On a single sheet of thick, scented paper, in more gold filigree, she read:
“Their Majesties, the King and Queen of the Realm,
Do request the presence of you and your household
One fortnight hence upon the Autumnal Equinox
For a Royal Ball to be held at the castle in the Crown Prince’s honor.
All unwed maidens from the ages of sixteen to twenty-one
Shall accept a dance from the Crown Prince.
At the stroke of midnight, the Crown Prince shall select a young lady to be his bride.
We look forward to you attendance.”
Adele ran her fingers over the raised wax of the Royal Seal that adorned and authenticated the bottom of the page. Already her mind was racing. Not because of the kingdom’s Prince. She would dance with him politely and surely be forgotten by him when the next blushing damsel rushed into his arms. But then…then she would be free to spend the evening as she liked. Her thoughts turned to dancing with Philippe, being held in his strong arms. She felt the color in her cheeks rise.
“So you see why they’re inviting everyone they possibly can, don’t you?” Philippe snickered.
“Of course,” she laughed with a roll of her eyes. “So their Prince has as big a selection as possible of swooning admirers to choose from.”
The two of them knew they shouldn’t discuss royalty in such a way, but they couldn’t help it. The whole idea was so flamboyant. But, then again, you didn’t get to be a monarch if you didn’t have a suitable flair for the dramatic.
“Come on,” Philippe said as he moved to lead his horse to the stable. “I feel like a nice late-summer walk to the lake.”
“But shouldn’t you get to town? You were planning to work all week.”
“Oh, I see. Trying to get rid of me, huh? Special plans for the day, or something?” Philippe was already passing her and heading for the stable doors. She tucked the invitation back into the envelope and tossed it on top of the tablecloth she’d been folding when he arrived.
“No, of course not!” Adele protested as she trotted after him. “It’s not that. I just figured you’d have even more work piling up now that this invitation’s gone out. Anyone with any sense is going to commission you for a rush order.”
“Well, that’s why I want to take the day off. I’m going to be buried under fabric tomorrow. You can come by and help if you want. I always love your design input. And you’re fantastic with a needle; I might enlist you for some of the busywork.”
Adele shook her head and smiled as he shut the stall door behind his horse, now happily munching on alfalfa. “I don’t know,” she chimed in the sweetest and most innocent voice she could produce. “I’m going to be so awfully busy trying out hairstyles and picking out jewelry that I think will catch Prince Charming’s eye. After all, I’ll have to stand out from the crowd if I want a good chance.”
The look Philippe gave her was contemptuous and it was all she could do to stifle a giggle.
“Oh, come on. Don’t sulk. Are we going to the lake or not?”
“Bet I can beat you.”
“Bet you can’t.”
In seconds they were off, hurtling around the house, weaving through the garden, and sprinting down the straightaway towards the woods. Adele tossed back her head and laughed. But out of the corner of her eye she saw Philippe’s expression. It wasn’t the carefree smile he usually wore. It was much more like the sour look he’d had the very first time she had met him. A look that clouded his light blue eyes. A look that said he didn’t want to be there. Worry crept into a tiny corner of Adele’s brain, but she pushed it back as far as it would go and forced herself to stay focused on beating Philippe to the lake.
~~5~~
Philippe was the first to splash into the shallows, effectively winning him the day’s race. He laughed and kicked water up at Adele as she skidded up beside him. The opportunity to gloat seemed to liven him up and Adele soon forgot all about the strange look he’d had when they’d started out. Suddenly they were children again. They splashed about and caused a general ruckus, becoming soaked enough that they might as well have just gone swimming. When they finally tired of that, they skipped rocks for a while. Adele had never been very good. A point which Philippe never allowed her to forget. When they were mostly dry and could no longer find any suitable skipping rocks, Adele decided to flop down onto the thick mossy hillock just above the pebbled shore of the lake. Philippe soon joined her with a companionable thumph onto the moss.
“So, is this a large pond, or a small lake?”
“I dunno,” Adele sighed as she stretched and closed her eyes. “We’ve always called it a lake, haven’t we? What makes you ask?”
“It just seems smaller than it used to.”
“Well we are bigger now, after all. That might be it.”
“Probably.”
A comfortable silenced began. That wasn’t unusual. They’d known each other long enough that they didn’t always need words to fill the air. Sometimes it was nice to just sit and exist together. Especially by the lake. It was so peaceful. Peaceful enough, in fact, that Adele was just on the verge of dozing off when Philippe spoke again.
“So, this whole pick-a-princess Royal Ball thing…..”
“Hm?”
“What do you think of it?”
Adele shrugged where she lay but did not open her eyes. “I think it’s weird.”
“Really? You don’t think it’s romantic?” he said, sitting up.
“Not really, no.”
“Not even a little? The dashing Prince? The prospect of a single dance turning into a love story for the history books?”
She picked at a clump of moss between her fingertips. “Well it’s romantic in a storybook kind of way, but it’s not really a good idea in real life, is it?”
“Oh? And what makes you say that?”
There was an edge in his voice. Almost a nervousness. She’d never heard that voice from him before. She opened her eyes and sat up to face him.
“Because they’ll know practically nothing about each other. How can you marry someone you don’t know?”
“They could grow to love each other.”
“Sure, but they might just as likely hate each other.”
Philippe’s voice began to rise. “But what if they feel a spark? Love at first sight? A ‘whirlwind romance,’ some people call it!”
“It’s fine to be attracted to someone right away, but that doesn’t mean you pledge your life to them!”
“But when you know, you know, don’t you?!”
“Do you?!”
“I don’t know!”
“Well neither do I!”
She realized she was shouting. They were both shouting and she didn’t know why.
When Philippe next spoke, his voice was quieter, but still unsteady. “So…what you’re saying is, you wouldn’t want a Prince Charming to sweep you off of your feet? You wouldn’t want that rush, that romantic thrill of the unknown? Jumping in feet first?”
Adele did her best to steady her own voice. “No. I wouldn’t want that. I’d want to be with someone I already knew; not some tall, dark, handsome stranger. My heart is my most valuable possession. I’d only ever open it up to someone I already trusted.”
They stared at each other for a moment. A long moment. Adele thought she saw a look of realization in his eyes. Did he know? Had she tipped her hand? She’d just confessed wanting to be with someone she knew. She didn’t exactly know many young gentlemen apart from Philippe. Sure, there were a few boys they’d attended school with in town years ago, but she wasn’t nearly as close to any of them. Philippe was a smart man, surely he’d figured it out by now. How could he not? But even worse, what if he felt differently?
Adele’s heart and mind were both racing faster than either she or Philippe could have ever dreamed of running on foot. The few seconds of silence that were passing between them felt like years.
Philippe stood up and turned away from her. “I should get back,” he said. His voice still with the traces of that nervous edge. “I really will have a mountain of work waiting.”
Well, now she knew. She scolded herself for revealing too much of her heart. He clearly didn’t see her as any more than a friend, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it outright. If he’d returned her feelings he wouldn’t be so cold.
They walked back up to her house in silence. Not the companionable silence they’d shared by the lake. This was a stiff, formal silence. Adele was inwardly agonizing over their conversation. He’d seemed quite the staunch supporter of “whirlwind romance.” Was there some girl he’d become acquainted with in town that he fancied? Or maybe he hadn’t even spoken to the girl yet; he’d just watched her from afar. Adele knew she was his best friend. Maybe he’d asked her about her views on love because he wanted to pursue this girl but he wanted another opinion on romance first. When she’d spoken the opposite of what he’d been hoping to hear, that’s when he got defensive.
That must be it. There was someone else. Oh please, no.
They made it up to the stable. Philippe tacked up his horse and swung into the saddle. Adele walked beside his horse to the front walk. Once there, she managed to find just enough of her voice to manage the word “goodbye.” His only response was a curt nod. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. Then he was gone just as quickly as he had come only a few hours before.
~~6~~
Adele marched upstairs and flopped herself down onto her bed for a good, long sulk. And why shouldn’t she? She felt that, under the circumstances, it was an acceptable action to take. She absentmindedly stared out her window overlooking the back garden and tried to come up with some other viable explanation to explain Philippe’s behavior. She could not. Adele had absolutely no idea what Philippe was thinking. She could only guess. That’s really what disturbed her the most, she realized. For the first time in a very long time, she didn’t know what was going through his mind. She could normally figure out what he was thinking or how he was feeling before he could. But he had behaved almost like a different person down by the lake, and Adele was left hurt and confused. And now she was feeling the beginning stages of a headache. Whether due to her attempts to understand Philippe’s actions or from the unreasonable desire to cry that she was currently suppressing, she wasn’t sure. What she was sure of was that she didn’t want to think about it anymore just then. She’d have to later; she knew that. But right now all she wanted was a distraction.
Almost as if he had heard her thoughts, Adele’s father chose that very moment to knock on the door and slowly poke his head inside her room.
“You busy?” he asked, grinning
“Not at all. Come in.”
He did so, carrying a small trunk with him which he set at the foot of the bed. His cheerful expression changed as he came to sit next to her.
“What’s wrong, pet?”
“Oh…..Philippe and I had a fight.”
“Good heavens, that doesn’t sound like you two. What on earth was it about?”
“You know,” Adele said as she managed a wry smile, “I’m not even sure.”
His heavy brows furrowed with concern as he peered at her with the shrewd, discerning gaze of a merchant. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” she sighed, “Not really. Actually, I was just trying to stop thinking about it when you came in. what have you got in that trunk?”
Knowing not to push Adele, and that she’d talk about the situation with Philippe when she was ready, he did his best to resume the excited countenance he’d had a few minutes prior.
“Well, I happened upon the Royal Invitation you left outside on the steps. I know it must be terribly exciting, your first Royal function, but I know you don’t have anything suitably fancy enough for such an occasion. Then a thought occurred to me that I hope you’ll think is as undeniably perfect as I do! Come here, child, look at this.”
He stood and fumbled for the key to open the chest he’d hauled into her room. Once open, he slowly, almost reverently, removed a dusty pink gown from where it had, presumably, spent the past indeterminate number of years.
“It was your mother’s,” he whispered.
Adele’s eyes swept over the beautiful embroidered silk and the long, dainty sleeves that ended in pointed cuffs. It was stunning. Truly, it was. But Adele also couldn’t help but notice that it was nearly three decades out of date. She could also tell by looking at it that her mother had had vastly different proportions than herself. But her father stood there with his eyes sparkling, holding it out for her to take. What else could she do? She relived him of the gown and took it behind her changing screen to try it on. When she’d managed to adjust it on her frame as best she could, she stepped out into the room to the adoration of her dear father. The bodice of her mother’s gown was far too loose on her. The seams all seemed to be in the wrong places, causing the heavy silk to drape awkwardly. Worst of all, her lanky limbs resulted in the pointed cuffs ending at her wrists instead of her fingers, and the hemline brushed the tops of her ankles rather than floating along the floor.
But her father beamed. His eyes danced with happiness and he had to cover his mouth with his hand.
“What do you think of it?” he managed through what Adele could only interpret as a sudden surge of sentimentality.
She couldn’t bear to disappoint him. He was so happy. And she supposed it didn’t matter now anyway. She had dreamed of impressing Philippe and dancing with him and being held tightly in his arms, but that dream was quickly dying in light of the day’s unexpected events. She had no one else to impress. She didn’t care about the Prince. She didn’t care about the other attendees and what they might say about her. But she did care about her father. So, because of the love she had for him, Adele decided that she would wear her late mother’s outdated, ill-fitting dress, and she would wear it with pride.
“I think it’s marvelous,” she said. “I’m thrilled that I get to wear it, really.”
He smiled broadly and extended his arms to her. She returned his smile and let him envelope her in his strong, protective grasp. Maybe the Ball wouldn’t be so bad. She could still have a good time with her father. And there were still two weeks. She’d go into town tomorrow and visit Philippe’s workshop. He’d invited her, hadn’t he? To share design thoughts and help with some grunt work? They’d known each other too long for today’s conversation to have a permanent impact. If she knew Philippe, they’d have everything patched up long before the Royal Ball. She was still sure of her supposition that he didn’t share her romantic feelings, but that was all right. She’d come to terms with it. And it meant she could still wear her mother’s dress without worrying over him being impressed or not. In fact, they’d probably share a marvelous laugh over it. Yes. The more she thought about it, the less bleak everything seemed. She was certain that tomorrow would bring better things, and that she and Philippe would both look forward to the ball together with eager anticipation.
~~7~~
She had been sorely mistaken.
Adele had gotten up early and breezed through all of her chores. She’d practically galloped all the way to town after she’d tacked up her horse, and now she stood at the door of Philippe’s workshop. During her ride over she had imagined how their day would go. She would sweep in like nothing was wrong. Philippe would smile, sheepishly at first, but soon he’d get excited about some gown or other and they’d be comfortably prattling on and working as they always did. When they broke for midday meal she would feel safe enough to ask about his behavior at the lake. If he didn’t want to talk about it, then she would let it go and be grateful that he was acting normal again. If he did talk about it, then she would listen and do her best to take everything he said in stride, even if it meant he’d figured out her feelings and was rejecting them. It would be all right once they talked.
But they didn’t. she stood there at the locked door staring at the paper that had been tacked to it letting all prospective customers know that he would be unavailable until after the Royal Ball, and that he was not taking any more orders for the afore mentioned event. She knew he was inside, working. She had shouted for him, but he did not come. She told him that she had something urgent to say, but he would not respond. Finally she had kicked the door in frustration, and now she just stood there, staring at the paper and breathing heavily. Well fine. He may not have responded verbally, but his silence itself was clear enough. She was not wanted or needed there. Adele turned on her heel, mounted her horse, and rode away.
~~8~~
She went to the workshop two more times over the next two weeks. Each time met with the same result. Adele was beginning to grow numb. Her closest friend had abandoned her and he wouldn’t even tell her why. At first she had been angry. Then anger had turned to sadness. Now she just felt empty.
It was three days until the Ball and Adele was riding back from her final attempt to speak with Philippe. She didn’t really want to go home just yet. Her father would ask how Philippe was, and she didn’t want to tell him about Philippe ignoring her again. She knew she could go to her father for anything, but this was just one of those times when a girl needs to talk with another girl. Adele stopped her horse at the head of the lane that led to her house. She decided to turn away and ride on. Soon she was hitching her horse outside the door of the long house with the thatched roof.
Philippe’s mother was overjoyed to see her and quickly ushered her into the kitchen where a fresh loaf of bread was cooling and filling the whole space with the most incredible fragrance. Adele had avoided coming here. She’d wanted to, but how did one begin a conversation with a woman when the subject of anxiety was the woman’s own son? But her uncertainty proved to be inconsequential. As soon as the older woman asked what was the matter, words started pouring from Adele in a rush that she couldn’t have stopped if she’d wanted to. Philippe’s mother sat and listened intently while Adele laid out every detail of the incident by the lake, as well as her efforts to see Philippe and her speculations as to the reasons for his actions. By the end, the tears that Adele had been holding finally came. Not in a torrent, like her words, but in a slow, constant trickle down her cheeks. She thought about swiping them away, but ultimately decided to just let them run.
“Has he been home at all? Has he said anything to you?” Adele choked.
“No, nothing, I’m afraid. The last time I saw him was the morning he rode over to your house. He said he’d probably be staying at the workshop until the Ball was over. I must say, I couldn’t be more shocked by what you’ve told me. It’s not like him at all to be distant like this, especially to you. And he certainly hasn’t mentioned any girl in town that’s caught his eye.”
“But what else could it be? I can’t think of any other reason strong enough for such a change.”
“I don’t know, dear. I wish I did.”
The two of them stared, unseeing, at the fresh bread on the table between them, curls of heat still rising from its crust.
“I’ll go into town today and see if I can’t talk to him. He may feel he can keep his door shut for you, but if he thinks his dear, old mother will be as easy to keep out then he’s got quite another thing coming.”
“Oh, I don’t want you to go to any trouble!” Adele fretted.
“It’s no trouble, I promise you,” Philippe’s mother assured her. “I’m just as curious about this whole situation as you are.”
Adele chuckled at the thought of Philippe’s mother banging down his door and demanding an explanation. No matter how old children became, mothers were still formidable creatures.
“Now you ride on home and stop your worrying. We’ll get to the bottom of this and everything will be fine. After all, this is Philippe we’re talking about.”
She was right. This was Philippe. The boy she had been neighbors, playmates, and friends with for over a decade. She still couldn’t explain or understand his behavior right now, and she was still wretchedly upset, but she knew that, eventually, she would find out what he was hiding. Whether their friendship came out the stronger for it, or fell apart, remained to be seen. But she would find out, and the simple presence of knowledge, good or bad, would help make things easier. It’s always the not knowing that makes things most difficult.
The two women smiled at each other, and Adele hugged her surrogate mother.
“Thank you for listening. Just talking about it already makes me feel lighter.”
“Of course, my dear. I’m always here for you.”
With that, Adele took her leave and made her way home. She was feeling better. Better, but not quite better enough to totally erase the numbness that had come over her. Doubts about even bothering to attend the Ball swirled in her mind. First she had imagined an evening of dancing with Philippe. Then she had hoped to at least share a laugh with him about her dress, and spend the evening dancing wither her father. But she was beginning to wish not to attend at all. If Philippe was there, she would be debating all night between confronting and avoiding him. If he wasn’t there, she’d likely spend the whole night debating whether or not she wished he were. Either way would make her too distracted to be of any good company to her father. She would talk to him when she got home. She would try to get a feel for how much or little he was looking forward to the event. If he seemed apathetic about it, she would ask if they could stay home. But if her father turned out to truly be looking forward to it, then she would put on a brave face and not even mention her hesitations.
She came to the stable, brushed down her horse, and hauled a pitchfork’s worth of hay into the stall. After replacing her saddle on its peg, Adele squared her shoulders and strode into the open air toward her house. She crossed her fingers behind her back as she stepped over the threshold and began the search for her father.
~~9~~
Adele located her father rather quickly. He was sitting by the window in his study, looking over some financial papers. He smiled and took off his reading spectacles when she entered. Before Adele could fish for any information about his feelings in regards to the Ball, he surprised her by coming straight to that very point himself.
“Adele, my dear, would you mind terribly if I didn’t go with you this Friday night?”
“W-what?”
I know you’ve been looking forward to a dance with your old man, but I just don’t think I have the stamina for events like this anymore. The main announcement not until midnight? I’m usually snoring by then. These kinds of nights are designed for you young people. I’m just not up for staying out that late anymore.”
“You’re not nearly as old as you’re trying to claim, Papa,” she said with a grin as she sank into the chair next to him. “You’ve still got plenty of good years in you.”
“Well, that may be, but I’ll have even more if I’m smart enough not to burn the candle at both ends. Are you…are you terribly disappointed?”
Adele wanted to have a bit of fun by teasing him. To pretend that it was the worst news she’d heard all day. But he was looking at her with the unsure eyes of a concerned parent, so instead she reached out her hand and placed it over his.
“I’m not disappointed at all,” she assured him. Actually, it’s a relief. I haven’t felt much like going either.”
Her father’s brow creased. “But I thought you couldn’t wait to go.”
“Remember when I told you that Philippe and I had had a fight? Well,” she sighed, “We’re still having it.”
“I see.”
He waited calmly, quietly. He asked her no questions. He knew Adele well enough to know that she was ready to talk, and would do so more freely without interruptions.
After staring at her fingernails for a moment, she began. Not in a rush or with tears like when she’d spoken to Philippe’s mother. Instead, she spoke slowly. Coolly. Almost detached. She told him everything, from the moment Philippe had ridden up, all through her conversation at the long house with the thatched roof.
“And then I came here,” she finished. “I came to find a way to tell you that I didn’t feel like going to the Ball anymore. But you beat me to it.”
The crease in her father’s brow deepened. “None of this makes any sense. What’s he playing at?”
“I don’t know. I can’t figure it out. But….I think I’m to the point where I don’t want to try figuring it out anymore. It’s just making me anxious. It is what it is, and he’ll talk to me if and when he wants to. There’s nothing more to be done. So don’t you go worrying about it; the only thing that’ll accomplish is the start of an ulcer.”
“My dear daughter. You sounded so much like your mother just then. She always was the voice of reason.”
Adele just smiled and shrugged. “Somebody’s got to keep things together around here.”
The mood felt much lighter now that she’d chosen not to try to fix things. She still didn’t feel like going to the Ball, and she was still upset with Philippe; but for the first time since the lake, Adele felt like things would truly be all right, even if she and Philippe never spoke again. It wouldn’t be easy. She would still be hit with moments of sadness or anger. But, in the end, she would be all right.
Her father leaned back in his chair and grinned knowingly. “At least you won’t have to wear your mother’s old dress now. What a sight you were!”
“What are you talking about?! You wanted me to wear it!”
“I did, but that was before I saw it on you!”
“But you were beaming!” she cried. “You even had to cover your mouth with your hand, you were so overcome with sentimentality!!”
“No, my dear girl,” he laughed, slapping his knee. “I was overcome with the absurdity of it! I put up my hand to keep you from seeing my laughter!”
Adele threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. “You’re terrible. You are absolutely terrible. You were really going to let me out in public wearing that, KNOWING that I looked foolish? See if I ever voluntarily sacrifice my dignity out of love for you ever again.”
But her father couldn’t respond. He was too busy clutching his stomach and scrunching his eyes shut with his great, booming laugh that Adele loved so much. She tried to keep a straight face. A dignified, ladylike face. But somewhere in the midst of her father’s laughter, he accidentally snorted. Adele’s composure cracked, and ultimately crumbled, as she allowed herself to collapse into a fit of giggles beside him. For the first time in almost two weeks, tears came to her eyes due to joy. For the first time in almost two weeks, Adele was happy.
~~10~~
The next few days went by uneventfully. Adele had thought that she might hear news from Philippe’s mother, but she didn’t. She busied herself with her chores and helping her father with his merchant’s business. The more she kept herself occupied, the easier it was to keep her mind off of Philippe. It was his move now and there was nothing to be done. But just because Adele had chosen to leave the matter be did not mean that her mind was willing to stop thinking about it altogether. When darkness came and she lay in bed with no more chores to focus on, her brain played through their final conversation over and over again. It teamed with questions she now knew may never be answered. She tried to push the thoughts away and go to sleep, but sleep would not find her. Not until her body could literally no longer maintain consciousness would exhaustion finally overwhelm her swirling thoughts.
It was finally Friday, and Adele had not fallen asleep until after sunrise. Her father had come in to wake her for breakfast, but when he learned that she was only just beginning to drift off, he told her to sleep as long as she needed to; straight into Saturday, in necessary. Adele was grateful. Perhaps sleeping through the bloody Ball would be for the best.
But, hours later, she found herself being shaken roughly awake. Her father was standing over her with a large box tucked under one arm and a look of triumph in his eyes.
“What? What is it?” Adele asked, sitting up and wiping the sleep from her eyes. “It’s dark out. I thought you were planning to let me sleep until tomorrow morning.”
“I was. But I figured you’d want to get ready for the ball.”
“Papa, we’ve been through this. Neither of us is going, remember?”
But her father just shook his head and smiled. “I may not be going, but I think you will be once you’ve seen this. I found it on the steps when I went to water and feed the horses. I think a fairy must have left it there.”
He held out the sizable box to her which she accepted and placed on her lap. “You opened my mail? I’m fairly sure that’s a crime.”
“Just open it,” he chuckled.
She did. And when she did, her whole world stopped. Inside the box was the most stunning ball gown Adele had ever seen. It was a beautiful shade of lavender, simultaneously vibrant and gentle. The whale-boned corset bodice was lavishly decorated with incredibly intricate beadwork. And the skirt! The skirt had a translucent overlay that was made from the lightest, smoothest material Adele had ever felt. It slipped like water through her fingertips, and she was sure that it would flare out beautifully when she twirled. But there was something that made her breath catch in her throat more than anything else. It was Philippe’s. It was his craftsmanship, she could tell. She could always tell.
She didn’t fully know what it meant. She still couldn’t figure out his previous behavior, or how this dress played into it, but whatever it meant had to be good. He had made his masterpiece, and he’d made it for her. That had to be good. She had to find out. She was going to the Royal Ball.
But it was already dark. The Ball was probably just getting underway. She had to leave, and she had to leave quickly. Her father ran to fetch some of her mother’s old jewelry while Adele did her best to tame her hair. The Jewelry, she was pleasantly surprised to see, was not nearly as obviously old-fashioned as the gown had been. It wasn’t an expensive set; the pearls were manufactured, the crystals were glass, and the silver was imitation. But it was made well, and was just the right look to compliment the dress perfectly. Adele wrestled with her hair while her father clasped the necklace behind her neck, and, between the two of them, they managed to make her presentable. She hurried out the door to the stable, careful not to trip on the flowing skirt. Most people would probably be arriving by fancy, hired coaches, but Adele cared very little that her small, open air carriage would be shabby by comparison. How she got there didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting there and finding Philippe. She hoped she was right in thinking that he would be there.
The horses were hitched and ready to go. Adele stood next to them with her father. With a quick hug before climbing up and a wave goodbye, she was clicking to the horses and urging them down the lane and towards the castle.
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Comments: 5
EEEEEEEEIII!!!!!!
And this feels...I know them well.
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I know, right? *stuffs feels clumsily back into chest*
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
OH MY WORD, IT'S SENPAI. HEY SENPAI.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
