Once Upon a Winter's Night

15

The Bear, now a rich brown, growled and stopped. Camille slid from his back and looked across the field at the brightly lit mansion and the carriages and teams in harness. “Oh, Bear, it is not at all what we expected, is it?” Camille frowned. “I wonder who lives there and where my family has gone.” She took a deep breath and let it out, and said, “Well, we’ll not learn a thing simply by standing here. Let us go and see.”

As Camille stepped away, “ Rrhmm,” rumbled the Bear, and he did not move.

“What is it, Bear?”

The Bear raised its nose into the air and snuffled.

“Is it the horses? Or, instead, the men?”

The Bear gave a soft whuff.

“Ah, well, as for the horses, I know you do not wish to frighten them. And as for the men, I don’t blame you, for, knowing the ways of mortals, they might take it in their heads to go hunting after you, my Bear, yes?”

“Urrmm.”

Camille frowned, for she did not know how to interpret that answer, one which might mean No, though in this case it might also mean something else altogether, such as Let them try.

“Never you mind, Bear, I’ll go on from here, and see who lives there, then press on to wherever Papa and Maman have moved.” Camille donned her cloak and tied a modest drawstring purse to her belt, a few coins therein-some gold, some silver, some bronze. She loosened a pair of bundles from the rig.

She hugged the Bear about the neck, and said, “In a sevenday, I’ll meet you at this very place and you can carry me back to my beloved prince. You will remember, eh?”

“ Whuff. ”

She gave the Bear another hug, then shouldered her bundles and set out across the field, and the Bear watched her go.

Toward the mansion she went, and tall weeds and grasses swished ’round her boots and leather pants, thistles and burrs and bristly leaves clung to her cloak, and dust and weed pollen rose up ’round her in clouds. Oh, my, but the land lies fallow, overgrown; Papa would be so disappointed at the new owners.

On she strode through the oncoming nightfall, the music getting louder, and now she could hear voices and laughter, and she could see the window sashes were raised wide to let in the summer breeze, while yellow lantern- and candlelight streamed outward. When she reached the manse, she turned and looked for the Bear, but she saw him not in the gathering darkness. Gone into Faery, I suspect.

Faced with waiting rows of coachmen, she paused long enough to cast her hood over her head, then took up her bundles and rounded the end of the mansion. Past idle drivers and horses and carriages she went, some of the conveyances quite elegant, a few of these with footmen as well. On toward the portico she strode, and as she came to the front landing, “Ho, lad,” called out one of the drivers. “If they toss you a bone, save a knuckle for me.” Others laughed at his jest, but Camille paid no heed and stepped onto the porch, where the door stood open as well.

“Here now, boy, and just where do you think you’re going?” demanded the doorman, stepping into her path. “Off with you, and be quick about it. We want no beggars, no bindlestiffs here.”

“But sieur, I would ask: who dwells herein?”

The doorman puffed up his chest and raised his chin; clearly he was pleased at being called sieur by this ignorant boy. He brushed the gloved fingers of his right hand down across the brass buttons of his uniform and, above the sound of music and laughter and gaiety drifting through the open windows and door, he said, “Not that it’s any of your business, mind, but Lord Henri and Lady Aigrette rule here. Now begone, lad.” But then he gave a wink and added, “Though y’ might slip around th’ back and ask Cook for a bite. Dust yourself off afore then, and don’t let the old lady catch y’, eh?”

Even as Camille’s eyes widened in surprise that her mere and pere owned this fine mansion, “With whom are you speaking, Claude?” came a haughty voice, and a tall and quite bald, black-clad majordomo stepped into view and looked down at Camille and sniffed in disdain.

“Just this beggar-lad, sieur. I told him to be off.”

The majordomo pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and flicked it at Camille. “You heard him, boy. Begone, and swiftly, else I’ll set the dogs on you.”

Even as she opened her mouth to reply, “Camille!” came a glad cry, and Giles rushed out and threw his arms about her, and she dropped her bundles and clutched him tightly.

“What are you doing, Master Giles?” demanded the majordomo, horror in his voice. “ ’Tis a beggar-boy! A vagabond! You know not what diseases, what vermin he might carry.” And he reached out to pull Giles away.

“Oh, Pons, this is no beggar-boy,” cried Giles in glee, casting off the majordomo’s hand, “this is my sister!”

Yelling “Papa! Maman! Camille is here!” the eleven-year-old grabbed Camille by a wrist and dragged her inward past the astonished doorman and the dumbfounded majordomo.

“My bundles!” cried Camille, her cloak hood falling away, her golden hair spilling out.

Quickly recovering, “I’ll bring them, ma’amselle,” said the doorman, snatching up the goods and starting after. But at a gesture from haughty Pons, the doorman paused, then servilely followed the majordomo into the manse, trailing far behind the excited lad and Camille.

Down a hallway went Giles, calling, “Papa! Maman! Camille, Camille has come!” They came to a doorway on the right, leading to a small sitting room. Therein Giles found his mother and several matronly ladies, all dressed in fine ball gowns.

“Maman, Camille has come,” said Giles, pulling Camille in after.

Aigrette stood, her eyes flying wide in shock, and she rushed forward. Camille held out her arms for an embrace, but it was Aigrette who now grabbed her by the wrist and jerked her away from the door. With Giles trotting after, down the hall Aigrette dragged Camille, the mother angrily muttering, “What would everyone think of me, should anyone see you like this, all dusty and running with sweat, and is that field weeds and burrs and such I see clinging to your cloak? What were you thinking, Camille? Gave you no thought to me?”

She rushed Camille by an entry to a grand ballroom, and in the swift glimpse Camille caught as she flew past, she saw the chamber was filled with people in finery, stepping out a dance to the music played by musicians on a modest platform beyond. On down a hallway and up a back stair Aigrette scurried, Camille in tow. “We’ve got to get you out of those horrible clothes and scrub that grime from you. No fille of mine is going to come into this house looking like a scruffy beggar-boy.”

“Maman, aren’t you glad to see Camille?” asked Giles, still following.

“Of course I’m glad to see her,” snapped Aigrette, and suddenly her eyes widened in revelation, as if she had just then stumbled across a wonderful idea that only she knew. “Oh, yes, indeed, I am quite glad she has come at this very time.” And Aigrette laughed to herself.

A few more steps down a hallway she went, then shoved Camille into the sitting room of a small suite. “Here, Camille, these are Joie’s quarters, or Gai’s, I am uncertain which.”

“They’re Gai’s,” said Giles.

Aigrette turned on Giles in exasperation. “You go and find one of the maids to help Camille, and be quick about it. And tell no one else, you hear?”

“Yes, Maman,” said Giles, and turned and bolted away.

As the lad rushed out, Aigrette opened a door; it led to the adjoining suite. Growling, she slammed it shut and opened another; a bedchamber lay beyond. Stalking in, she gestured at an archway. “Yon is the wash chamber. Now get you out of those filthy clothes and scrub yourself down.” She opened yet another door, and Camille could see it was a small dressing room, with gowns and such hanging, and shoes on shelves nearby. “And put on a gown suitable for the grand ball below.” Aigrette gestured. “One of Gai’s should fit, for you are of a size. And do something about that hair. I shall return anon.” She rushed back out, nearly running into the doorman-“Out of my way, oaf!”-but standing to one side was the majordomo. “Oh, Pons,” barked Aigrette, “come with me, for I have a very important task for you, and a most splendid task at that.” Together they vanished down the hallway.

“Ma’amselle?” called the doorman, peering in. “Your bundles?”

Nearly in tears, Camille stepped into the sitting room and gestured at one of the chairs. The doorman set the goods on the seat, then touched the brim of his cap and quietly withdrew.

With the help of Milli, the maid that Giles had found, within a candlemark, Camille was dressed in a dark blue gown, with pale blue petticoats under, dark blue shoes on her feet. At her mother’s insistence, underneath was a bustier to accentuate her cleavage. Her hair was artfully woven through with blue satin ribbons matching the blue of the gown. Though she had yielded to her mother’s dictates in all else, Camille stubbornly refused to wear the gaudy, cut-glass tiara, saying that the ribbons were quite enough.

Hissing in fury, Aigrette slammed the diadem down on the dressing table. “You think of only yourself, Camille, but very well, stubborn child.” Then she slipped the cord of the blue fan about Camille’s wrist, a small fold of paper attached. “Now here is your dance card. Pons filled it out at my instructions. Treat your partners well, for they can do me, do us, much good.-Now let us be gone from here and to the ball.”

As Camille glanced one last time in the mirror, “You are quite beautiful, my lady,” said Milli. “The men, their eyes will look nowhere else, while the women’s eyes will all fill with green.”

“Merci, Milli; I am glad you-”

“Come, come, you look well enough, Camille,” impatiently said Aigrette. “Let’s have no more of this prattle; my guests are waiting.”

Out the door and along a hallway they went, to come to a balcony at the head of an elegant, curving stair leading down into the grand ballroom. Aigrette snatched Camille’s hand and kept her from going on. Waiting below was Pons, watching for them to appear, and at a signal from Aigrette, he rapped the marble floor with a long staff. The music stopped; the dancers paused; a stillness fell over all.

“My lords and ladies and honored guests,” rang out the majordomo, “the Lady Aigrette presents her daughter, the Lady Camille, Princess of the Summerwood!”

Camille was thunderstruck, for she did not consider herself a princess of anything, much less the Summerwood. And a great intake of air swept throughout the room, as men and women looked up to see, standing high above, the beautiful golden-haired girl in the sapphire-blue gown.

Though Camille was bewildered, Aigrette was in her glory, as down the staircase she descended, arm in arm with Camille, Aigrette’s chin held high in queenly dominance, the mother of a princess no less. Ah, yes, she was indeed glad that Camille had come to visit, as all dutiful daughters should.

As Milli had predicted, the eyes of all men were irresistibly drawn to Camille, and the eyes of all women narrowed and perhaps even filled with envy, and some did fill with despair, for Camille was stunningly beautiful, and it is doubtful that anyone whatsoever even noted that Aigrette was at this splendid creature’s side.

And pressing forward through the crowd came Giles, hauling Papa Henri in tow, with Felise and Colette right behind, then the twins-Joie and Gai-and finally Lisette, the eldest of the sisters coming last of all.

As moths to a light, Camille was surrounded by young men, each one demanding a dance, and man after man offered her glass cups of punch and begged for a stroll in the garden out by the wishing well.

During a pause in the music, Camille leaned over and whispered behind her fan to Giles, “Wishing well?”

“Papa’s old well out back,” he murmured. “Maman had a stone wall put ’round, with a roof above and a winch and a bucket across, all to replace the old wooden trapdoor and the pail on a rope we used to cast down and flip over to draw water. And she had gardeners plant violets and such, and vines… all to hide the fact that it was once nothing more than a farmer’s clay-walled cistern.”

Camille looked at her mother, now surrounded by a group of older women, all of whom Camille had been introduced to, none of whose names she remembered. Her mere preened among them, and even though she was standing quite still, it appeared as if she were strutting. And as Maman spoke, the older women cast glances toward Camille, and now and then one would break away to urgently talk to a young man or two, presumably a son or sons.

Playing two violins, a viola, a cello, a harpsichord, and a tambourine, the six musicians struck up again, and Camille’s next partner came and fetched her, this one quite old and fat and short and leering; Lord Jaufre, he named himself, and, in spite of his obvious bulk, Camille could hear the creak of a corset as he bent to kiss her hand, managing to slobber all over her fingers. And all through the dance, he talked of his hounds while peering quite closely at her bosom.

And she danced the minuet, and then the quadrille, and then more dances after, all with different partners as listed on the dance card dictated by her mother-young men, old men, tall and short, stout and slender, all quite wealthy men, or sons of the very rich. And though she glided about the floor with these various partners, Camille could not think of aught but Alain, for he had taught her each of the dances, and she did miss him so.

And so she stepped and curtseyed and turned and paraded ’round the chamber and paced hand-to-hand with old roues or handsome rakes, or whirled about in a joyous fling with robust and laughing young men, but she would have given it all up, and gladly, just to be sitting quietly with Alain at distant Summerwood Manor.

Midmorn of the next day, from one of the guest rooms where she had been quartered, Camille descended to find five of her siblings and Papa breaking fast at a long, walnut-wood table. She served herself buffet-style from a sideboard, selecting from scrambled eggs, rashers, hot biscuits and butter and jellies and jams, and tea.

She took a seat beside Giles and said, “You are looking quite fit, Little Frere, less given to searching for air.”

Giles nodded. “I still have a bit of trouble breathing at times, though mostly not.”

“The doctor claims his former ill health had something to do with thatch,” said Papa Henri, “especially thatch that has gone to mold, though what mold or even thatch has to do with aught, I cannot say.”

“Maman says the doctor is a fool,” said Lisette, “and that it had more to do with dampness and wind whistling through chinks than with any dark mold.”

Giles made a face and shuddered. “Even so, I still have to take that awful medicine.”

“Well if you ask me,” said Colette, “I think it was all due to ill vapors, and somehow they’ve gone away.”

“Regardless,” said Papa, “be it mold, thatch, wind, damp, or ill vapors, clearly Giles is much better, and whether it is due to our new home or the medicine, who can say?”

Camille leaned over and embraced Giles. “Papa is right, and I am so glad for you.”

They ate in silence for a moment, Camille looking about, and then she turned to her father at the head of the table and asked, “Papa, this mansion is quite splendid. Who built it?”

“Hundreds of workmen from Rulon,” said Henri, “and in but nine months or so.”

“Maman drove them mercilessly,” said Colette.

“Had she a whip, she would have lashed them,” said Joie, Gai at her side nodding, the twins in total agreement.

“They were lazy,” said Lisette, glaring about at the others as if in challenge.

“Lazy?” exclaimed Giles, taking up the cast gauntlet from across the table. He gestured about. “Papa says they did the impossible, completing this mansion in but the time they did.”

“Only because of Maman,” retorted Lisette.

“Only because of Maman for what?” demanded Aigrette as she swept into the room.

“ ’Tis only because of your efforts, Maman,” said Lisette, “that the mansion was started and finished when it was.”

“Indeed,” Maman replied as she took her place at the foot of the table. “Had I not kept after those idlers, we would still be living in your pere’s hovel.” She rang the small handbell.

Giles leaned over to Camille and said, “They tore it down, you know-Papa’s old place.”

“Good riddance,” snapped Maman Aigrette, though at the opposite end of the board a look of sadness touched Papa’s eyes.

An attendant came into the room, and under Aigrette’s sharp instructions, he readied and served her a plate, though he did have to return to the sideboard several times to get the best of the scrambled eggs, the portions quite small, and then the correct jellies in small dabs as well, for the waists of Maman’s gowns were quite tight, and she would have them so. When at last she dismissed the servant with a haughty wave, he left in obvious relief.

“Where is Felise?” asked Camille, glancing toward the door.

“Probably yet abed and enjoying Allard’s attentions,” replied Colette, wistfully.

“Allard?”

“Her husband.”

“Felise is married?”

“Indeed,” said Maman, raising her chin and peering down her nose at Camille. “And she married quite well, I might add.”

“Oh, but not as well as you, Camille,” said Colette, “you being wedded to a prince and all.”

Lisette muttered something under her breath, and Giles said across to her, “Fear not, dear Sister, for you might on a day snag some unwitting soul.”

Colette and the twins burst into laughter at the lad’s gibe, with Giles grinning in the face of Lisette’s glower. Camille hid her own smile behind her napkin.

Even though he kept a straight face, Papa said, “Now, now, mes filles et fils, let us have no-”

“Giles!” snapped Maman. “You will treat your sisters with respect.”

“But, Maman-” began Giles, only to chop to silence as Aigrette glared at him.

Even as Lisette’s scowl at Giles turned into a smirk, “What’s all the laughing about?” said Felise, coming into the room, an anticipatory grin ’neath the freckles on her face, her complexion a bit flushed and glowing, as if she had just been engaged in some strenuous activity.

Giles laughed. “I said to Lisette, that-”

“Giles!” snapped Lisette and Maman together, and the lad fell silent, while the twins and Colette stifled giggles.

“Good!” said Camille, setting a small bundle to the table. “Everyone’s here, and I have gifts for all.”

As Felise filled a plate and took a seat, Camille unwrapped the bundle. “Here, Papa, here, Giles, these are for you.” She passed a small case to each, and inside each was a folding knife and a hone. As they reverently took out the knives, Camille said, “Renaud tells me these are fine blades, made of the very best bronze. And the handles are mother-of-pearl from the tropical seas of Faery. Too, your birthstones are set in the pearl: a diamond for each of you, since you are both April-born.”

“Ooo,” breathed Giles, as he unclasped the dark-metal blade. Then he looked up at Camille, his eyes glittering. “Are they magic? Enchanted?”

Camille smiled. “Perhaps you could say so, for the more skilled you become through practice, the better will your carvings be.”

Giles beamed. “Oh, Camille, that’s marvelous.” But then his face fell. “-Hoy, now, wait a moment. That’s no real enchantment at all, is it?”

Camille grinned and tousled his hair and said, “No, Giles, but now you and Papa can whittle to your heart’s content, and you won’t have to trade a single knife back and forth.” Giles brightened again and returned her grin.

“Merci, Fille,” said Henri. “This will be used to make a fine echecs set.”

“Just what I was thinking, Papa,” replied Camille. Then she unwrapped six rings, some set with glittering gems, while others held semiprecious stones. Amid murmurs of appreciation as she passed them to the recipients, Camille said, “These are birthstone rings: tourmaline for Joie and Gai; for Felise, saphir; sardoine for Colette; rubis for Lisette; and for you, Maman, heliotrope, also known as bloodstone.”

Even as the others tried on their rings and ooh ed and ahh ed, Aigrette looked disdainfully at the bloodstone-set band and sniffed in dismissal and laid it aside and said, “I expected something finer from a princess, Camille. After all, with your wealth and position…”

Stricken, sudden tears brimming, Camille said, “Oh, Maman, can’t you just merely be happy for once?”

Giles reached over and touched his hand to Camille’s and whispered, “No matter what Maman says, dear Camille, these gifts are quite splendid.”

Felise held up her beringed finger in the rays of light streaming through one of the windows, the blue sapphire glinting, “ Ooh, it catches the sun and transforms it into a star. I shall have to show it to Allard, when he wakes up and comes down.”

“Let us see what our rings will do,” said Gai, glancing at her twin, and they turned the pale green tourmalines into the light.

“Oh look, now and again they glint blue,” said Joie.

In the sunlight, Lisette’s ruby burned with fire.

Colette’s opaque sardonyx ring did not transform the light, though the stone was quite elegant and different from the others, its bands of brown and tan and white clearly beyond the ordinary. “Oh, my,” she said, “how striking. Perhaps I’ll pretend that it came from some mysterious suitor and make Luc jealous.”

Maman, unable to resist, pushed her red-and-green bloodstone across the table and into a sunbeam streaming onto the walnut wood, but her stone was opaque as well, and though the red flecks within the dark green stood out brilliantly, the stone itself did not break the light, and she huffed and returned to her rashers and eggs.

“Where did you get these, Camille?” asked Felise.

“From Alain,” replied Camille. “When we decided that I would come for a visit, the prince asked me what birthdays each of you had and then selected the gifts specifically to match the months I named.”

Aigrette’s eyes widened, and she reached out and took up the bloodstone ring. “These are from the prince himself?”

“Yes, Maman.”

“Well, then.” Aigrette slipped the band onto her finger and held her hand up so that she could see it. Then she resumed eating.

Camille sighed heavily, but Giles said, “Maman, when you believed the gift was from Camille, you thought it quite insignificant; but a gift from the prince himself, well now, that was different. Yet, in between your assumption and the revelation of the truth, the ring itself did not miraculously transform. Tell me, Maman-”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” snapped Aigrette.

Giles fell mute, but he turned to Camille and grinned.

A silence descended ’round the table, but finally Camille looked from sister to sister and asked, “So you have suitors?”

A babble broke out, all sisters talking at once:

“Luc and I are engaged, and-”

“I’m married, Camille, to Allard-”

“I believe that Javert is getting quite serious, though whether to me or Gai, I cannot-”

“Oh, Camille, you should have been here when the men first began to come to call. They would take us out to the wishing well and toss in coins and-”

“They still do,” called Gai, her voice rising above the others. “Just last eve, Philippe tossed in a gold coin and wished for a kiss from me and-”

“-and she gave him much more than just a-” interjected Joie, suddenly breaking off and glancing at Aigrette, even as Gai jabbed an elbow into her twin’s ribs. Amid quiet titters, conversation stilled.

Maman cleared her throat and said, “As to Phillipe, his prospects are quite dismal. Instead I suggest that one of you consider Lord Jaufre-”

“Maman!” cried Gai. “He’s old and fat and always trying to slobber a kiss on me.”

“And all he speaks of are his hounds,” added Joie.

“And he pants and sweats,” added Gai, “and whenever he gets a chance he presses against my bosom.”

“Well,” said Lisette, first glancing at her mother, then looking at the pair, “you let others kiss you, and, I suspect, caress you as well, perhaps even fondle.”

“Lisette!” cried the twins.

“Maman,” interjected Felise, “Lord Jaufre is an old roue. I wouldn’t wish him off on even one of his dogs, much less a sister of mine.”

Aigrette glared down the table. “I will not have you speaking this way of our houseguest; why, Jaufre could come down the stairs at any moment and overhear these slurs.”

“He knocked on my door last night,” said Colette, “and asked me if I was in bed. I didn’t answer. I didn’t let him in, either. After a while he went away.”

“The old seducer,” growled Felise.

Maman rapped a spoon against the table. “Now listen and listen to me well: by one of you marrying Lord Jaufre it will increase our fortune considerably.” She gestured at Camille. “Besides, having another royal personage in the family will raise our status as well.”

“Maman!” cried the twins and Colette. Camille shuddered in revulsion as she remembered her dance with Lord Jaufre, and she could not imagine anyone desiring him as a mate. Lisette also shuddered at the prospect of being wedded to that old roue, but she nodded in agreement with Aigrette.

But then Papa said, “Aigrette, it will not happen, not only because our filles will not have it so, but neither will Lord Jaufre. I think he is here to eat our food and drink our wine and seduce anyone he can, and nothing more.”

Aigrette seethed in fury and through clenched teeth said, “Henri, be silent!”

None said aught for a while, but then Felise asked Camille, “What does Prince Alain look like?”

“Well, he’s a head or so taller than me, and slender, yet quite well built, with black hair and grey eyes and full lips and gentle hands… he plays the harpsichord.”

“Is he handsome?” asked Colette. “My Luc is quite beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” said Joie. “I would not describe him that way.”

“Well, I think it so,” snapped Colette.

Papa smiled at Colette and said, “That’s all that matters, Letty. If you think him beautiful and let him know, it will fill his heart.” Henri then glanced at Aigrette.

Aigrette huffed, and spread butter on a biscuit.

Colette smiled at her father, then turned again to Camille. “Is he handsome: your Prince Alain?”

“My Allard is quite handsome,” said Felise. She smiled at Colette. “Do you remember how splendid he looked at the wedding?”

Gai clapped her hands and turned to her twin. “Oh, and what a grand wedding that was.”

Joie nodded in agreement and said to Camille, “There were spring flowers and guests galore, and a heirophant came from Rulon to bless the union.”

“It was quite lovely,” admitted Lisette.

“Oh, Maman, when it is my turn, I do hope to have a wedding just as beautiful,” said Colette.

“And, for me, a groom as handsome as Allard,” added Joie.

For a moment silence fell, all but Camille remembering that day. But then Colette said, “I wish you had been here, Camille. Still, you did not answer my question: is Prince Alain handsome?”

Camille shrugged. “I don’t know. I have never seen him without a mask.”

“What?” cried several at once. “ A mask?”

Aigrette dropped her knife aclatter to the table. “You mean you have never seen his face?”

“No, Maman.”

“What prince would wear a mask? Why, he could be a robber, a thief, an outlaw, to always go masked like that.”

“No, Maman. He is no outlaw, but truly is the Prince of the Summerwood.”

Frowning, nevertheless Felise came to Camille’s defense. “Maman, mayhap he is simply disfigured-a scar, a wen, a gape, the aftermath of pox, or some such.”

“Perhaps a birthmark,” added Papa.

“ Ooo, ” said Giles, his eyes wide in speculation, and he peered ’round the table and whispered loudly, “What if there’s nothing under the mask but just a bony, skeleton skull?”

Now the twins’ eyes flew wide in alarm.

“No, Giles,” replied Camille. “Not true, for every eve I see his lips and his eyes, and although I have never seen his visage, I have felt the contours of his face, the flesh of his cheeks and jaw, brow, nose, chin, and, of course, his gentle mouth. No, Giles, there is no”-Camille grinned and raised her hands in mock fear-“ ooo, bony, skeleton skull under the mask.”

“Oh,” Giles said, his face falling in disappointment, underneath which hid a grin.

“This mask, does he never take it off?” asked Lisette.

Camille blushed. “He does not wear it in bed.”

“And still you have not seen his face?”

“The room is quite dark, Lisette.”

“How strange,” said Henri. “Still, do you love him? And more importantly, does he love you?”

“Oh, yes, Papa. We are madly in love with one another.”

Papa turned up his hands and shrugged and said, “L’amour est tout.”

“Indeed, Papa, love is all,” replied Camille.

Maman merely muttered under her breath, but what she said, none at the table did hear.

“What was your wedding like, Camille?” asked Felise, glancing at Lisette, whose eyes narrowed.

Nonplused, Camille remained silent.

“Come, come,” demanded Maman.

“We have not yet had a wedding,” Camille admitted.

Again Aigrette dropped her knife. “What? No wedding?”

“No, Maman. No wedding, though we are pledged to one another.”

Aigrette glowered at Henri. “And he has taken you to his bed, this masked prince?”

Camille nodded mutely.

Lisette smiled a wicked smile and raised her chin as if in victory.

“And no banns have been posted, no king notified, no monk, no heirophant has solemnized aught?” asked Aigrette.

“No, Maman,” Camille meekly replied.

“What would Fra Galanni say, Camille? Living as you are without proper sanction.”

“I don’t know, Maman.”

“Aigrette,” said Papa softly. “No banns were posted when you pledged to me, no messages sent, no heirophant sought, no formal wedding at all.”

“ What? ” exclaimed several daughters simultaneously, turning to Maman.

“You and Papa were never properly wedded?” said Gai.

“We are all bastards,” declared Giles, grinning.

“Be quiet, all of you,” barked Maman, glaring in outrage at Papa. “What your pere and I have or have not done is neither here nor there. It is what Camille has not done that is at the crux of the matter.”

“How so?” now challenged Camille, regaining some of her spirit. “We are pledged, and Alain himself has vowed that as soon as he resolves a vexing problem, then we will wed.”

“What is this problem?” asked Lisette, smugly grinning.

“I don’t know, Lisette. Only that it is dire.”

Lisette raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

“Indeed,” replied Camille, her ire rising.

Lisette smacked a palm to the table. “Indeed, indeed. Here is a prince who wears a mask he never removes, and there has been no wedding ceremony, for what monk or heirophant would sanctify the wedding of a so-called innocent girl to a man who wears a mask? Why, it is as Maman has said: he may be a well-known pirate or thief or brigand or other kind of foul looter… after all, where does his wealth come from? Perhaps we ought to gather a warband and go after this pirate and haul him to prison.”

Both Camille and Maman gasped in alarm, and Maman said, “Oh, no, Lisette, we cannot do such a thing.”

“Why not, Maman? After all, there may be a reward on his head. Perhaps even dead or alive.”

Even as Camille’s face turned pale, Maman raised an admonishing finger. “No matter what the reward, be he a pirate or no, and no matter the source of his fortune, think on this, Lisette”-she turned to the others-“think on this, all of you: we would be much the poorer should his annual tithe of gold stop. Would you have us lose that ever-running stream of wealth?”

“Maman,” said Giles, “you think only of riches, when you should treasure Camille instead.”

Now Aigrette glowered at Giles. “But it is Camille I am thinking of, and-” Abruptly, she stopped, and a calculating look swept into her eyes. “Camille, you should remove his mask.”

Camille shook her head, remembering what Alain said when she merely ran a finger across his features. “Maman, he said he could not show me his face.”

“Ah, but did he ever say you could not see it?”

Camille cast her mind back to that very first evening in the lanternlight on the bridge:

“Lady Camille, for reasons I cannot explain, I must wear this mask, such that I can never show you my face.”

“No, Maman. Only that he could not show me his face.”

“Well,” crowed Maman, leaping up from her chair and stepping to the mantel and pulling the stub of a fat candle from its holder and picking up a small box of matches as well. “Here, Camille, take this candle with these matches, and when he’s asleep in the bed you share, you can light it and see his face. Thus he will not have revealed his visage to you, for you will have seen his face for yourself without him having had the slightest hand in it. After all, once he sees that you love him in spite of his disfigurement or scar or birthmark, or the fact that he is a notorious pirate or such, he will then discard the mask and a proper wedding can take place, thus assuring that you will inherit his wealth if he should die on you. After all, should he fall dead and you not be married, then you would be left without any claim to his riches-be it pirate gold or not-and then what would happen to us?”

Even as Camille shook her head in refusal, her sisters were stricken pale. Papa’s eyes gazed at the fine things throughout the room, and his lips drew thin. Only Giles seemed unaffected by this potential future, and he looked at Camille and shrugged, saying, “I can live in a cottage again.”

“Oh, Giles,” whispered Camille, “what of your aversion to thatch?”

Once more Giles merely shrugged, but this time he said nought.

Throughout the remainder of the week, Maman never let Camille have respite from the vision of something happening to Alain and she being left without a sou, her family cut off from the annual stipend, and Giles becoming sickly again.

And yet, every evening there was a ball, with Maman quite haughty in her newfound wealth and position, strutting about like a petty lord, showing her bloodstone ring to any and all who would look, telling them that it was but a trifling bauble sent to her by the prince as a minor show of his regard. And every night Aigrette had Pons announce Camille as the Princess of the Summerwood, though she and the entire family knew it was not yet so. Camille grew quite weary of such-her mother’s harangues and of the balls, and the unwanted attentions of many a would-be lover, including the fat old roue Lord Jaufre, who knocked on her door several nights running, asking if she needed company. The only company she desired was that of her Prince Alain, and oh how she longed to return to Summerwood Manor to share quiet evenings with him.

And thus did the seemingly interminable round of exhortations during the day and unwelcome dances at night drag on.

But finally the week of the visit was up, and at the dawning of the following morn, Camille dressed once again in her travelling clothes and made ready to meet the Bear. But even as she slipped down the stairs, Maman stopped her at the door, and she handed Camille the fat candle stub and a full box of matches, saying, “We wouldn’t want the plan to fail should one of the matches not light.”

Sighing, reluctantly Camille tucked the candle and box into her drawstring purse, and then with a cold embrace from Aigrette, across the field she fled. And even before she reached the twilight border, the Bear stepped into view, and Camille ran crying to him and threw her arms about his great neck and sobbed into his fur, “Oh, Bear, I missed you so. Take me back to Summerwood; take me back to my prince.”

“ Whuff. ”

Camille tied on her bundles, and climbed onto the Bear’s broad back, and into Faery they went.

Hindward, in the mansion-“Loose the dogs! Loose the dogs!” cried Lord Jaufre, ponderously thudding along the halls and hammering on bedroom doors.

“What? What is it, Lord Jaufre?” cried Aigrette, running up the stairs and meeting him halfway, the fat old roue puffing down to gather the servants, even as Henri came yawning after to stand at the top of the stairs, his negligee-clad daughters behind, as well as three half-dressed young men, one of them Allard, the husband of Felise, the other two coming after, both having been covertly invited by Joie and Gai to be their overnight guests. Giles was at the top of the stairs as well. Kneeling and peering through the balusters.

“A Bear! A Bear! I saw it from my window!” cried Jaufre. “Lady Camille was out for an early walk, and she was carried off into Faery by a great and savage brown Bear! We’ve got to break out the bows and arrows, the spears and lances, and don our Bear-hunting gear. We must saddle the horses, loose the hawks, and call out the dogs, and go after her… even though it means crossing into that dreaded realm.”

It took Henri until nearly breakfast to convince Jaufre and the three young men that the Bear was nought but Camille’s riding steed.

And then, as Giles grinned and Colette and Felise tittered, and Aigrette and Lisette looked on in disapproval, Henri eyed the two young men upon whose arms Joie and Gai adoringly clung. “Well, now, mes jeunes hommes et jeunes filles, what have you four to say for yourselves?”