Spoiler
Hey guys 
I know this chapter starts off slow, but it gets better at the end. I promise the next chapter will go straight into the action. Thank you so much for sticking with me, I appreciate it
I know this chapter starts off slow, but it gets better at the end. I promise the next chapter will go straight into the action. Thank you so much for sticking with me, I appreciate it IV. Hang Me Up To Dry
“All mixed up in the wash,
hot water bleeding our colors.”
-Cold War Kids
“All mixed up in the wash,
hot water bleeding our colors.”
-Cold War Kids
I must have fallen asleep on the ground because I woke up the next morning with grass in my hair, not knowing how I got to my bedroom or really caring. I kept my eyes closed and savored the last drops of peacefulness that came with sleep. I heard a rustling nearby. Someone was in my room. My eyes snapped open in response and I turned my head to look for the source.
“Oh, perdonatemi mi amore. La disturbo?” asked a familiar, kind voice to my right. A middle-aged woman was placing a shiny silver tray topped with even shinier gold tea wear on a high table near my bed.
I pounced on her with a hug when she got close enough to the edge of my bed.
“Francesca! I’ve missed you,” I sighed into her lavender scented chest.
She laughed at my enthusiastic greeting, “You are a silly one.”
I leaned into her soothing embrace, then without even fully knowing why, my breathing quickened and deepened, my body went weak, and a pitiful whine escaped my lips: It was my form of crying. I hadn’t produced real tears since I was three, even when I tried. My grandfather used to say that all my tears packed up and went on to another person with more need for them. Well, I needed them now. I wasn’t much of a crier, but when I did cry the dry cry of mine, I always felt embarrassed, wishing I had tears. But I wasn’t embarrassed now, I had Francesca with me. She understood.
“What is the matter, mio bambino?” my nanny since I was born asked me tenderly in heavily accented English.
“ThekinganFrenshambassadrswantmetomararandomDauphinandIdontwannacauseImonlysixteenanIdoneven knowhimanIdonevenlikemarriage,” I whined in a dry rush of words.
“Parli lentamente, little one,” said Francesca calmly.
“The king and French ambassadors want me to marry a random Dauphin and I don’t want to because I’m only sixteen, and I don’t even know him, and I don’t even like marriage,” I whined slower with effort. I knew I sounded like a five year-old but I couldn’t help myself.
“Oh,” Francesca showed her comprehension with a nod of her head, “Non si deve preoccupare, my sweet, everything will work out in the end,” she said serenely, running her fingers gently though my long red hair.
“How can I not worry Franny? My uncle is trying to marry me! From now on, they will be watching everything I do, making sure I don’t run for it. And if I attempt to, they will send someone to track me down and drag me back,” I said tiredly, done with my tearless crying fit.
“My little love, you have one of the most brilliant minds I know of. Let that guide you, use it to your advantage, and everything will work out on its own,” said Francesca confidently.
I pulled away from her so that I could look into her gracefully aged face.
“I hope you’re right, Franny,” I said hopelessly.
Francesca laughed lightly and planted a soft kiss on my forehead before getting up, “Aren’t I always?”
I had to laugh at that, because in all actuality, Franny usually was right on everything.
Francesca took a gold cup filled with herbal tea off the silver tray she had brought in and handed it to me. I took it without question.
“To calm the nerves,” Francesca said simply before picking up the tray and heading for the door.
“Thank you, Franny,” I smiled up at her.
“Oh! I almost forgot! A young woman arrived early this morning asking for you, claims she is a close friend. She is waiting for you in your old lessons room,” Francesca added before dipping me a curtsy and walking out.
A close friend? I placed the cup of tea aside as I slipped out of bed and raced to my old lessons room, a smile forming on my face.
I threw open the heavy oak door and sure enough, leaning against my grand piano, was a statuesque, blonde and beautiful female.
Rosaline Delacour.
“Rose!” I exclaimed, running over to hug my best friend with so much force that she nearly fell over.
Her lilac eyes sparkled with laughter. “The one and only, at your service,” she said, flashing her laser-whitened smile.
I was getting ready to tell Rose everything when she interrupted me and said, “Mulan has been watching* you ever since you landed. I know everything, and trust me, I’m not going to let you get married to a French prince, especially not before me. Anyway, I brought you extra clothes, your laptop so you can Skype me daily, iPod accessories for your music obsession and a few of your favorite books,” Rose finished proudly, gesturing to a pile of suitcases in the corner.
“You’re the best, Rosie!” I squeezed her so tightly she could hardly breathe.
“I know,” she said smugly, “I have to get going though, school tomorrow and a pile of homework to do. It’s a good thing you took final exams early or you’d really be screwed.”
I groaned, “I’m already really screwed.”
She let out a giggle, “Well, after school’s over, I’ll be on the first flight here if you need me. The other six back at home send you all their love.” My heart tore at the thought of my other six best friends as Rose gave me a squeeze before heading for the door. I walked her to the back entrance of the palace where a limo was waiting.
“Could you make sure that Naomi takes care of Jack for me, and that Mulan feeds Saber, and that my grandmother doesn’t overwater the plants in the greenhouse,” I said desperately to Rose as I walked her down the steps, wanting to make sure that my pet white-faced capuchin and Siberian tiger didn’t starve to death in my absence.
“Of course, of course, we’ll take care of everything. I’ll call you when I get home,” she gave me a reassuring peck on the cheek, “Later, gator.’
“In time, lemon-lime. Love you, Rosie,” I said pitifully as I watched her walk to the limo.
“Love you more Bells,” she blew me a kiss before stepping into the open passenger door.
I waved at the limo until I couldn’t see it anymore with jealousy forming in my heart from the fact that Rose was now going back to Shanghai while I had to stay here, without control, my best friends, or anyway to escape.
*************
The French king, his son Francis, a couple of ambassadors, and a few choice courtiers had arrived within three days, just as my uncle had said.
James had come into my rooms the day before their arrival, after Rose had left, and said that I might as well begin unpacking because I would be here for a while. He also condemned my actions from the night before, telling me that he would not tolerate behavior like that from now on or I would suffer the consequences. I laughed inwardly when he said that. On his way out the door, he added that I should behave when the French arrive, because if I messed this up, he would send me off to live in a nunnery in Venice.
So in the morning the French were said to arrive, I decided to put Francesca’s advice in action. I decided that I was going to be a good girl and do what my uncle said: not because I took any heed to a word he said –definitely not that- but, because I was clever, and I would outsmart him. I studied my uncle since I was a child. He liked to be petted and praised; he was like a child, and was easy to please when you knew what pleased him. And, once he was pleased it was easy to get anything you wanted from him, and I was fairly sure that The French king was the same. I had met him only once when I was younger, but I picked up a good deal from him then. All and all, it was a very simple plan: I would charm my way into the hearts of my uncle and King Louis XIX of France and then, when I had them in the palm of my hand, I would steer them into another plan to secure Italy to France, without me marrying the Dauphin.
I started by not protesting when my grandmother stuffed me into a floor-length ivory bustier dress that was much too tight around my abdomen.
“You look beautiful, Bells,” Charlie said with a stiff smile. He was just as livid as me about the situation, probably even more, but he wasn’t going to argue with my uncle and get on his bad side; He wasn’t afraid, he was smart.
“Listen Belle, I’m sorry to leave you like this but I’m leaving for Rome today. I’m going to the Vatican, looking into different archives and marital laws to see if there is a loophole, one where my consent or the consent of a figure of the church has to be given for the marriage contract to be valid. Your mother is doing the same thing in China. If neither of us find anything, we are going to meet up in America and check there,” Charlie said with a determined look.
“So you’re checking all the places where I’ve lived?” I asked with an amused smile. My father was a true man of law.
“Exactly. I promise we’ll get you out of this honey. I hope to be back in less than a couple of months. You think you’ll be okay here alone for that long?”
“Of course, I’ve got Giorgio and Francesca. I’ll be fine,” I said, giving him an assuring smile.
“Good. Well, I have to get going Belle, helicopters waiting. Love you, kid,” he kissed me on the forehead before turning for the door.
“Love you too, daddy,” I breathed, “send mom all my love, and call every day.”
“Promise,” he hesitated, studying me for a second before he sighed and left.
A few hours later I was standing between James and George at the front entrance of Caserta. I was surprisingly calm as a series of black limos sporting the French flag and royal standard pulled in front of the greeting party. I felt myself wanting to see the Dauphin: partially because I had met his older brother, Phillip, at James and Maria’s wedding and I wanted to see how different they were, and partially because George had commented on how handsome he was. And, if George, an in-the-closet gay prince with an impeccable knack for pinpointing handsome men, said Francis was good-looking, it must be true.
Thinking about good-looking guys made me think about Rose, who lived for them. Thinking about Rose made me think about actual roses, which made me think about gardens, which made me think about my grandfather, which made me think about Charlie, which made me think about my mother, which made me think about Shaolin Estate in Shanghai, the place I’d rather be.
“Isabel?” hissed George.
I snapped out of my reverie.
“What?” I hissed back.
He threw a deliberate glance to a spot in front of my, silently urging me to do the same. I did, and before me I saw two men looking at me intently as if waiting for me to reply to something they said.
I acted quickly, “Oh! King Louis! Forgive me for being so inattentive. Just before you arrived my mind drifted to your beautiful home, Versailles. I always slip into daydreams about the magnificent gardens and marvelous fountains, they are so enchanting.” I flashed him the charming Swan smile and curtsied deeply to him.
To my relief, King Louis chuckled heartily and my uncle followed, flashing me a look of approval.
“No worries my dear, no worries. Versailles confounds us all with her beauty. And soon, she will be your home just as much as she is mine,” said Louis as I stiffened at the thought. He was oblivious as he bent over to kiss my hand with a look of sheer anticipation smeared on his face before turning to my aunt and uncle.
“James,” King Louis said intimately before he and James embraced as if they were brothers instead of rival kings. Putting on a show for onlookers I supposed; James and Louis were forever competitive, and one always looked for opportunities to show that he bested the other.
“Louis,” James replied while drawing himself to full height so he could look down on Louis, “I hope you will find everything to your liking.”
Louis looked over at me, a hint of mischief in his eyes, “Yes, I believe I will.” He winked at me.
George had told me before that Louis was highly attracted to young women, and took many young mistresses when his wife was looking the other way. I knew it was partially perverted, but I decided earlier that I would use his…preference to my advantage: A way to charm him into doing what I wanted. Of course, I was not going to become his mistress, but I could at least tempt him into thinking that I would like to. So, I smiled invitingly toward him before turning away, feigning innocence.
Louis blinked rapidly before gaining his composure and turning to Maria. “Ah, the Beauty of Spain herself. I should have thought that I would be a blind man by now, from staring into such a brilliant being for so long,” he stated before kissing both of her cheeks.
She giggled like a schoolgirl and batted him away, “You flatter me, sir. I am not nearly as beautiful as you say, it is merely the lighting.” Maria was being modest, she was gorgeous. She had thick, black hair that fell to her waist, deeply tanned skin, and twinkling brown eyes as sweet as sugar. The heavy Spanish accent she acquired from her days as Princess of Spain seemed to add to her attractiveness.
“Nonsense, my love, you are the very essence of beauty in every way,” intervened James, kissing Maria on the mouth. Another show, I thought.
“Well played, eh?” I heard George whisper only for me. I smirked in reply.
“Speaking of beauty,” said my uncle while snaking his arm around Maria’s waist, “where is your lovely wife, Louis?”
My sweet Angelique stayed in France with Phillip and his fiancée, Antoinette. She sends her deepest regrets and regards.” Louis suddenly looked as if he was remembering something important. He looked to his right, “My son, Francis,” he introduced, beckoning his forgotten son forward.
We all seemed to have forgotten there was a second person standing in front of us, and we all turned to look at him as he stepped forward.
He was handsome, just like George had said. He had golden blond hair that fell in waves to his jaw and into his warm, sapphire eyes, and a tall, lanky build that was attractive instead of bland. He looked like a nineteen year-old version of his father minus the stubble beard.
“King James, Queen Maria,” he greeted them shyly, bowing deeply to James and kissing Maria on the hand. Then he turned to me, quite cautiously I noted.
“Princess Isabel,” Francis mumbled, bowing and kissing my hand lightly. His lips were soft, and his breath tickled. I noted that he didn’t stare at my breasts - which were greatly exposed by the bustier dress - while he bent over, like most men did. I was impressed. He was a gentleman.
“Prince Francis,” I replied graciously, dipping into a small curtsy.
There was a moment of awkward silence between us as everyone around us stared and all we could do was stand there and look at each other and blush.
George nudged me to say something and I spoke the first thing that came to mind, “So, how was your fare?”
“It was well, thank you,” Francis replied politely.
There was another moment of awkwardness.
Francis looked to his father secretively before turning to me and blurting nervously, “I was a long drive though. I passed the time by reading “The Tell-Tale Heart”, “The Cask of Amontillado”, and “The Bells” by Edgar Allan Poe and listening to Antonio Vivaldi’s Double Cello Concerto in G Minor.” Francis was a little pink by the end of his speech, breathing as if he had just done a great deal of physical labor.
Anna snickered but passed it off as a cough, and I could literally feel the grin forming on George’s face. I felt like laughing but I also felt pity for Francis. I don’t know how, but it wasn’t a coincidence that Francis knew my favorite classical concerto and my favorite works from Edgar Allan Poe. My guess was that someone must have told him my favorite things and asked him to somehow relate to me that he like the same things, and as a result, gain my favor. He didn’t really do it as gracefully as one might have wanted, but his nervousness was cute and earned my favor anyway.
“Right,” I replied simply, straining not to laugh at the embarrassed face of King Louis.
Louis struggled to find something to say to dissolve the moment, as did my uncle, but they were both unsuccessful. Instead, we all stood there uncomfortably with silence hanging around us. Another long moment of awkwardness; I had a feeling there was going to be a lot of them going around, and I was not looking forward to it.
Spoiler
* = This is the thirl novella in a series that follows Isabel. When Rose waid that Mulan had been "watching" Isabel, she is speaking of the power of clairvoyance that Mulan aqcuired one night when a ritual she was performing with herself, Isabel, and Isabel's other six best friends went wrong. The whole group aqcuired different powers that night from clairvoyance to telekinesis. This all happens in novella one, which is untitled at the moment and which I will most likely start to post after I am done with this story. I felt as if I needed to mention it in this story so it could stay connected to the other novellas and not veer off completely on its own (because this is the only novella where Isabel pretty much spends the whole time without her seven best friends. Anyway, thats about it. Sorry if its confusing :-} I'll explain more when I can. Thanx for reading!
Rosaline's appearance really confused me, and I don't know enough about the plot to ramble on about it, but I will say this: tell me she didn't fly our just to deliver a laptop and clothes and have a five minute conversation with her friend? That stuff can be mailed. If she had to travel any significant distance just to pop in to deliver stuff, it doesn't make sense. But I might have my settings wrong.