Royal Fools

III. The Cousin

Motioning his head toward his cousin, he added, "He's Henry Vandenberg. We're here under the king's orders."

The woman turned to Henry with a frown. "Henry..." she said, frowning. "The one who sent his men to take us here?"

"Yes," Henry said, eyes flickering to Emory in confusion.

"Who am I speaking to?" Emory asked, eyeing her from head down when she faced him again. He frowned. This woman was looking at him with wonder, scrutinizing his face openly as if they were equals.

"I'm Lucy," she said, her wide grin returning. She managed a clumsy curtsy, the chicken in her arm clucking as she fought another slip. "Lady Lucy Paulet."

Then it all clicked. The letter two months ago. The betrothed.

His eyes went to Henry, who must have realized the problem at hand. He'd deal with his cousin later, he thought, as he looked down at the woman again. "I assume you are here with your cousin?" he asked.

"Oh," Lucy said, blinking at him with a slightly worried look. "She's indisposed, I'm afraid."

"And why is that?"

"She's... sick," Lucy said. "Caught a flu. She's been working hard since supply had run out. We had to fend for ourselves, see? And she's not used to doing menial tasks." She smiled, adding, "Being a princess and all..."

Emory shot Henry a look. His cousin cleared his throat and looked away. "Fend for yourselves?"

Lucy blinked three times, smile bordering sarcasm and coldness. "There were no servants when we got here."

"You didn't have your own entourage?"

"The Grand Princess didn't think it was necessary. We expected a full house when the king sent us to this place." She waved her hand around. "It's quite a long story, and I'm afraid I don't know how it came to be, to be honest with you. Well, anyway..." She let out a sigh, and her mouth curled into a tight smile. "We had no choice but to work. Cooked and washed our own clothes, cleaned this place..."

Emory looked around, seeing no sign that the place had been cleaned at all.

"And as I've said, my cousin's bound to the bed. The Fitzwilliams try their best to help, but they're quite old and we hate to impose on their generosity. But three nights ago, we had to ask for help. Mrs. Fitzwilliam called for a doctor who strongly told us Florence needs uninterrupted rest."

He pursed his lips. "I think your cousin can trouble herself with a quick trip out of bed."

"Perhaps you can wait for a few more days?" Lucy asked. "After all, my cousin and I have been waiting two months for someone from the palace to see us." As she said the last words, the smile completely disappeared and her honey brown eyes glinted with hidden ire before she blinked and faced Henry. "You're His Majesty's cousin?"

Henry, who looked like he genuinely did not know why the woman was here, absently nodded.

"Then I'm certain you know your way around." Her cheerful tone returned, and so did her wide smile. "I have to slaughter a chicken. And don't bother. I've mastered the task by now."

"Slaughter?" Henry snapped his head toward the chicken.

"Yes," said Lucy, throwing Emory a glance. "After being left here on our own devices, we had to divide the work in the household."

Emory blinked a few times, speechless and at a loss.

She gave Emory another big smile. "We don't blame the inconveniences to the king, of course." Before he could open his mouth to defend the king, Lucy said, "May I go now, gentlemen? I don't wish to give the poor chicken false hopes."