The Rat Prince (15 page)

Food. Find the Food!
“Lady Rose, you would make an excellent rat.”

“You, Prince Char, make an excellent human.” She wandered over to a rosebush and fingered a blossom. “Don't you wish tonight would never end?”

Of course I did. “Why?”

“So you could stay human forever.”

My heart stopped, then began beating again, much harder.

Stay human. Yes. But how?

“There is no chance of it, Rose. You heard what the goddess decreed: at midnight, I…” I could not say it.

“It can't be true!” She abandoned the blossoms and flung herself toward me. She grasped both of my hands and gave an impassioned cry: “Char, I did not answer you in the coach. But I will answer now: I love you, too.”

I did then what I had wanted to do from the first. I closed the space between us and wrapped my arms about her tightly.

Who knows what might have happened next, had I not heard Swiss's human voice calling me: “Your Highness? Are you there? I have Sir Tompkin with me. He wishes to converse with you and my lady. Your Highness?”

“Yoo-hoo!” It was Sir Tompkin. “Lady Rose?”

Damnation. I had one night as a man with the creature I loved—one night only—which I was condemned to spend in the middle of a pack of humans with no concept of personal space. And Swiss had just become the worst of them all!

Rose sprang away from me, then greeted her family friend as he emerged from behind a privet hedge. Much kissing of cheeks followed, many endearments and heartfelt protestations of continuing friendship.

I watched until I heard a telltale chattering in the nearby hydrangea bushes. Sink me! There was no mistaking the dulcet tones of Lady Apricot. Had she and her ladies' maids just been witnesses to my tender scene with Rose? But it was my fault—I had asked her to meet me in the gardens.

“Drat,” I muttered. “Swiss, please bring Lady Rose food and drink. She is famished. Now I must be off, though I shall return soon.”

I turned and found my way down a dark path, deeper into the gardens, where no one would notice the great Prince Charming of the Northern Realm carrying on a conversation with three large, glossy rats.

 

C
INDERELLA

So many emotions, so little time to sort them out!

Char left us without a backward glance, heading rather mysteriously down a side pathway. I wondered what could possibly take precedence over participating in this long-awaited conversation with Sir Tompkin. Then I recalled Char's earlier mention of luring my stepmother into the gardens and disposing of her there.

No, Char could not be on such a mission. How could I even begin to suspect it? He'd promised not to kill her, and I believed him. He was an honorable man … rat … both.

“Come, Sir Tompkin,” I said in the brightest voice I could manage. “Here is a quiet seat where we will not be disturbed.” We settled onto a bench under the spilling white blooms of a clematis vine.

“Dear, dear little Rose,” he said, as if these were still my childhood days when he and Lord Bluehart used to come smoke horrible cigars with my father long into the night, arguing court politics and laughing uproariously until my mother broke it up. His compassionate gray eyes were so familiar, so soothing.

“Sir Tompkin, how I've missed you! Where is Bluey?” I looked over his shoulder in perplexity, as I had never seen one of them without the other.

He made an uncertain gesture. “Heaven knows. I've been seeking him for a good half hour. But not to worry; he will find us soon, and how ecstatic he will be to see you once more!”

I could not hold back my sad question any longer. “Dear sir, why did you and Lord Bluehart not answer any of my letters?”

“Bless my soul!” he exclaimed. “So you tried to contact us, did you? I am sorry, Rose, but we never received a single line from you. The treacherous Wilhemina must have had a hand in that.”

Though this only confirmed my suspicions, I felt a flare of fury. While I struggled to control it, Sir Tompkin said, “Now tell me, young lady, what in the name of Saint Sophy's Seat has been going on at Lancastyr Manor since your father remarried?”

This question would have taken many hours to answer properly. So I confined myself to summing up the past year of suffering in only a few sentences. As I did so, I watched his pleasant face grow longer and longer. He was so overset, I finished the story without revealing my worst suspicions about my stepmother being a murderess. That much, too, was merely hearsay.

While I hesitated, Sir Tompkin plunged into shocked speech. “A terrible tale, by Gad! My poor child, what you have been through!” He drew out a monogrammed handkerchief and mopped tears from his face. “Now see here, Rose,” he said. “Lord Bluehart and I tried again and again to visit Lancastyr Manor—always bringing my little dog, Dandle, with us, for you know how much your father always loved to play with him—but we were turned away each time like pestering peddlers!”

“Oh no! I assure you, it was not my father nor I who turned you away.”

“Of course not. We knew who must be responsible, yet we could not fathom what to do. Your stepmother even sent word through the servants that you, child, were still too wrapped up in grief over your mother to see anyone or go anywhere.” He frowned. “I realize now that Bluey and I ought to have shown up at your home with outriders and carried you off by main force a long time ago. Saved you from that harridan. I'm so ashamed we did not!”

“Sir Tompkin, even if you had tried to rescue me, I could never have left my father. Nor can I still,” I said.

He tucked away his handkerchief and patted my arm. “You are loyal and brave. And in spite of Wilhemina's worst efforts, we are together again at long last.” Then he seemed to take a truly good look at me and broke into a joyful smile. “And how grown-up and beautiful you've become! Why, Prince Geoffrey seemed quite head over heels for you. Perhaps you'll be the next queen of Angland!”

“I'm afraid not,” I said wryly. “I have no desire to be queen.”

He looked somewhat taken aback, then said, “Indeed. Entirely up to you, of course, entirely, er … Now, what was I saying? Oh yes. It appears plain that your noble father Barnaby is most unwell. He will require nursing and excellent physicians. Lord Bluehart and I will see to it.”

I had not felt such happiness in a very long time. “Oh, yes! It's just what I've been hoping for!”

“And it shall come to pass! But first we must concentrate upon dealing with your stepmother. We cannot obtain help for Barnaby if she blocks our efforts. As his legal wife, she has the right to deny him treatment. So let us see what we can do to invalidate their marriage. Clearly, he was not in possession of his mental faculties when she rushed him to the altar.”

“I cannot agree more.” I clasped my hands to my breast. “Have you spoken with the Lord Chief Justice? He is the only one who could render their marriage invalid.”

“Yes. Months ago, we entreated him to investigate and intervene on behalf of Lord Lancastyr. But that moldering misanthrope told us, ‘The man is free to trade his old friends for new ones and marry beneath him if he wishes. The law does not permit us to intervene.'”

At this point, Swiss returned from the ballroom with a dish of dainties and a goblet of wine. He enthusiastically dumped the plate on my lap, and I grabbed the goblet just in time to prevent it from spilling.

“Your dinner as requested,” he said in a friendly voice.

Sir Tompkin gave him a reproving look, but Swiss obviously paid no attention as he took up a protective position to one side of us.

“Have you noticed,” Sir Tompkin whispered, “that Prince Charming's bodyguard fellow is quite an odd sort? I can't say much for his bold manners. Things must be very different in your cousin's lands.”

“Indeed, you cannot imagine how different,” I said. “Do you mind if I partake of what the, er, bodyguard brought?” I hadn't seen such delicious fare in a long time, and I was so famished that even my eagerness to make plans with my father's old friend was not as strong as my desire to eat.

I confined myself to taking small ladylike bites rather than wolfing down the quail's eggs, pear-gorgonzola-pecan tart, and lingonberry trifle, then turned to Sir Tompkin to take up our discussion again.

“Now, Rose, there is a topic of a highly delicate nature I must broach with you,” he said. “Though I hesitate to frighten you, I feel you should know.”

I was not sure how many more frightening things I could contemplate at this point, and yet I said, “Perhaps I have more courage than you realize. Go on, Sir Tompkin.”

“Lord Bluehart and I heard a dreadful rumor about your stepmother.” He hesitated, then said, “Never mind, I have thought better of it. I will not trouble your pretty little head over the sordid details.”

My pretty little head? I tried not to feel outrage, but failed. “Are you hinting that you believe Wilhemina may have killed her first husband?” I asked.

He keeled backward, then righted himself. “Why, yes! Great heavens, you heard the gossip, too? Oh, how wicked, how dreadful. However did you manage to live under the same roof with a suspected murderess? You must have been in constant fear!”

I stared at him in surprise. Yes, Wilhemina had always frightened me. Nonetheless, my reaction to her evil was not what Sir Tompkin obviously expected of a well-brought-up young lass. My stepmother had forced me to be cunning, stiffened my resolve, and turned Lady Rose into Cinderella.

I was not ashamed of that name. I was proud of it. “I learned from that fear, Sir Tompkin.”

Sir Tompkin declared, “You are braver than I would have been in your place. Never mind, you are safe now. And Lord Bluehart and I are searching for compelling proof that Wilhemina indeed had a hand in her first husband's death. If we find it, the Lord Chief Justice will change his mind and start proceedings against her.”

“I wish the proof were already found.” I frowned in frustration.

At that very moment, a familiar deep voice sounded across the garden. “Tompkin! And dear little Lady Rose! At last I've found you!”

“Bluey!” I bounded up from the bench and threw myself into the wide-flung arms of the usually reserved Lord Bluehart. While he kissed the top of my head, Sir Tompkin berated him for disappearing at such an important time, and Swiss edged closer to us with an expression of canny interest.

“Oh hush, Tompkin, I am here now, am I not?” Lord Bluehart said at last, then held me at arm's length and, with an uncharacteristically big smile on his usually impassive face, declared: “Both of you—come with me! Out of the clear blue sky, an ally has appeared who wishes to make a confession to you, and you alone, Lady Rose. I predict we shall soon see an end to the despicable Wilhemina!”

With Swiss at my back and Sir Tompkin at my side, I followed Lord Bluehart into the castle and down a long corridor. We soon arrived at one of the smaller parlors, where visitors were accustomed to waiting for meetings with lesser members of the court.

“Here,” Lord Bluehart said, opening the door with a return of his customary solemn demeanor. “In the Zhinese parlor. Prepare to be astonished, Rose.”

He did not exaggerate. I stepped inside, then halted in utter confusion.

For there, seated on the red cushion of a black lacquered sofa, in a sober gray “Sunday Best” dress, sat Wilhemina's loyal servant—Cook.

Yes. The domineering Cook, who'd made my life miserable with her endless demands and constant hectoring. What on earth could she be doing at Castle Wendyn, with a crumpled, hopeless air and reddened eyes? Amid the black and scarlet of the parlor, decorated with busy Zhinese vases and carved stone Foo dogs, she looked wan and completely out of place.

Then came another shock: Lancastyr Manor's faithful housekeeper, Mrs. Grigson, came flying toward me out of nowhere, arms outstretched as if to give me a hug. “Lady Rose!” Under the disapproving stare of Lord Bluehart, she pulled back just before touching me and dropped a curtsy instead. “Oh my lady,” she breathed. “Strange doings are afoot tonight! First this business with Cook, and now—we heard you've won Prince Geoffrey's heart!”

Then Pye came up next to Mrs. Grigson, keeping a respectful distance from the two titled gentlemen and Swiss. “You did it, Cinderella—I mean, Lady Rose!” he cried eagerly. “To blazes with Lady Wilhemina and that Miss Eustacia! You're the one who'll marry Prince Geoffrey, sure as sure!” he said.

“Pye? Mrs. Grigson?” I gaped in disbelief. “What is happening? What brings you here to the castle—and with Cook, of all people?”

Mrs. Grigson leaned in closer to me. “After seeing what that vile Lady Wilhemina did to you and your beautiful dress tonight, my patience was at an end. After I packed my bag, I hired a cab to come here with Pye.”

I was still at sea. “But why?”

“Because I thought your father's dearest friends must be in attendance, even though they're bachelors with no daughters to marry off to the prince. They never miss a party at the castle, not them!”

Sir Tompkin flushed scarlet.

Now Mrs. Grigson's face grew hard and her usually placid eyes narrowed with anger. “I meant to find Sir Tompkin and Lord Bluehart, tell them everything, and beg them to rescue you and your father. I would even take my case to good King Tumtry himself, if I had to! Then, if you can believe it, just as Pye and I were leaving Lancastyr Manor, who should ask to join us but Mabel Hoovey—that is, Cook? I was that surprised, I almost had a spasm.”

I felt I might be getting a spasm myself, at any minute.

Mrs. Grigson went on, “Cook had overheard where we were going and insisted she had a confession to make to your parents' friends. But when we arrived and she found out you had somehow made it to the ball after all—which I hope you'll explain sometime, my lady, we were flabbergasted when we found out—Cook insisted she would make the confession only to you.”