Chapter 13 – Princess

Wherein Valentina replies to a summons from upon high.

The days progressed in a steady new rhythm. Both Rose and Bosra went out with the other morning commuters, heading to their respective daily occupations. Slowly, the house filled up with furniture. A bed here. A closet there. Table and chairs for the dining room. A sofa and two armchairs for the sitting room. An extra set of shelves for what Rose had claimed as the music room. 

Valentina's hands itched to make sure everything was a full set, that every little thing matched all the bigger things around it. She struggled not to give in to that urge; to not give in to the perfectionist in her head that judged every teacup, every serviette, every footstep.

Besides, the mish-mash of decor was growing on her.

They had all put books on the shelves in the music room. They each had their own chair. Their own favourite tea mug. Since the draperies had been hung, it was everyone’s preferred communal space.

Valentina had claimed the sitting room to decorate. She deliberated every item going in, trying to find her own style. When she was done, the result was an elegant space, where polite tea parties could be hosted, but without making anyone who was there feel judged.

The hours Rose and Bosra were away, she filled with everyday things. She was learning what those were.

She was learning how to cook. It wasn't really going well, but it was a good way to get the merry-go-round horses named frustration and condemnation off the carousel.

At least once a week, her mother sent a message, threatening to come over if Valentina didn’t return home. The latest one was a lament on unfaithful daughters, leaving their mother high and dry for a pre-scheduled soiree, where said mother had counted on the presence of her oldest daughter and heir to half of her father’s fortune.

She had been able to get out of the other summons. This one, she knew she had to attend. If she didn’t… Venlica would find a way to make her life miserable.

Dressed in her nicest skirt and blouse, Valentina stepped into the four-horse carriage with gold embossed shield sent to collect her. Inside, she found a note from Jasper.

"Looking forward to have you home, Miss. Your dress and handmaid are awaiting you in your quarters. Unfortunately, there has been an accident that will keep Lady Effyne occupied for quite some time; she will not be able to greet you personally."

Valentina read the note three more times before pressing it to her chest in gratitude. Of all the people she missed, the butler was at the top of the list – followed closely by her handmaiden.

The carriage took unfamiliar turns, until there was a sharp uphill pull and voices outside indicated they had passed into the palatial ring of Splendor.

Nearly there, she thought, now recognising bumps and twists. The rattle of carriage wheels over stone sounded different here.

Noticing she was fiddling with the finicky lace trim of her blouse, she stilled her hands, nails pressing half-moon grooves into her palms.

The dress waiting for her was perfect. The right elegant cut to flatter her figure. The right colour to match her hair and skin tone. The right exotic silk fabric to impress the guests. A matching set of jewellery sat on her vanity. The gem-encrusted gold would make her look like a dragon flaunting its hoard.

Maybe she was the hoard and her mother the dragon.

If dragons could also be hags.

She breathed deeply. She shouldn’t think like that; her mother loved her.

Daisy, her handmaiden, had run her a bath. It too was perfect. Perfectly warm. Perfectly scented. She slipped into the tub and relaxed while Daisy washed her hair. They chatted. There was a lot to catch up on.

Daisy got her up to speed on the latest court gossip. Valentina had been out of the loop.

"Enough about that. How is your experiment going? Living on your own?" Daisy asked without judgement, rinsing the suds from her mistress’s hair.

Until that question, Valentina had had an answer. Living on her own was so-so. It was not all it was cracked up to be. Living without servants was hard. Living on a budget was hard. After three months of wearing the same thing day after day, she was happy to be in a new dress.

"It’s… tranquil," she whispered. "There is no pressure to be the perfect daughter, the perfect host, the perfect conversationalist, the perfect dancer."

Daisy decanted more warm water over Valentina’s scalp. She smiled, though her mistress couldn’t see it. "That sounds… perfect," she joked.

"No. It isn’t. It’s far from perfect. I burned tea. I’ve burned toast. My…" at the last moment Valentina switched out ‘friend’ for ‘servant’, feeling terrible about it. "My servants, they had to teach me how to make my own breakfast."

"Lousy servants, if they let you make your own breakfast, Miss Valentina." Daisy lathered cream into the wet golden locks, to ensure perfect curls when dry.

That terrible stab in Valentina’s chest increased in intensity. This was what betrayal must feel like. "They’re not. They just… have a lot on their plates."

"Maybe you should ask your father to send you more," Daisy suggested. "You know I would love to continue working for you. I wouldn’t let you make your own breakfast." Being of service to her mistress was a point of pride to the woman, who was only a year or two older than Valentina herself.

Valentina sighed. She could do that. She was mostly sure her father would agree, especially if she smiled beatifically.

She didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to tangle up her uncomplicated life.

"Just think about it, Miss. If not me, then a footman and a driver. There must be a livery stable nearby where you could board a pair," Daisy urged.

Valentina suppressed a sigh. Daisy meant well; the maid was just looking out for her mistress. Valentina, however, didn’t want her unspoiled life tainted with the pure perfectionism that seemed to come with the name Effyne.

Dried off, dressed in undergarments covered with a chamber gown, and sitting at her vanity while Daisy put the finishing touches on her hair, the peace was broken by the entry of a woman that looked to be not five years older than Valentina. With an air of disdain, the Arch-Duchess inspected her wayward daughter.

Valentina straightened her spine, tipping down her chin. She kept her hands still, staying as relaxed as possible.

"I thought you would be done by now. Have you been chatting too much, keeping Daisy from her work?" Venlica asked pointedly.

There was no right answer. "Possibly," Valentina ventured. "We had a lot to catch up on."

"You wouldn’t have to, if you hadn’t insisted on starting your own household with only two lowlifes as servants."

Valentina gritted her teeth. Bosra and Rose were not lowlifes. They may not be filthy rich, but in their presence she had found a different kind of wealth.

"We’ll talk about that on the morrow. Tonight, it’s important to show a united front. People have been gossiping about us, since you’ve deserted us. Show them you’re still worthy of our family name, daughter-mine." Venlica took hold of Valentina’s chin and forced her face upward. No warmth or motherly love spoke from the hard blue eyes. There was only cool calculation.

Valentina pulled free and nodded silently. Yes, she would do as was demanded of her.

The night passed in a haze of perfume, glittering dresses and bright lights, underscored with classical music performed by a full orchestra. Smaller ensembles were placed around the house to ensure there would be no silence, no discomfort when there was a lull in conversation.

It was closer to dawn than dusk when Valentina slipped away. She debated going back to her quarters and heading home in the morn, but her mother’s threat of a longer conversation after breakfast replayed in the back of her mind.

Without waking Daisy, who slept in Valentina’s dressing room, she collected her personal items and left. She found a tired-looking Jasper right where she expected him.

"Are you going, Miss?" he asked in a hushed tone. "Do you need a carriage?"

"Please, Jasper." There was a pleading tone in her voice.

The butler, looking stiff and formidable, brushed a bit of fuzz off her shoulder. "Wait here. It shall be done."

Valentina waited in the dim pre-dawn light until the same carriage that had brought her here pulled up to the door. She let herself be helped into the cab by the attending footman.

"Thank you," she mouthed to Jasper, waiting in the doorway. He nodded in acknowledgement.

Stark though his silhouette was, cut against the illuminated doorway, she couldn’t help but think he cared more for her than her mother did.