V. Tea Party
Welcome to the Tea Party
Wanna be my V.I.P.
Didn’t R.S.V.P.
That’s okay, that’s okay.
-Kerli
Welcome to the Tea Party
Wanna be my V.I.P.
Didn’t R.S.V.P.
That’s okay, that’s okay.
-Kerli
“It’s stunning, Verona. Absolutely gorgeous,” I said in awe, twisting and turning to see the dress at all angles.
“Merci, Your Highness,” Verona, an apprentice dressmaker, replied modestly before returning to her work.
It was a dress right from the pages of a Jane Austen novel. The bust of the dress was made of cream colored satin, fashioned with a v-neck to show the layer of peach fabric beneath and cap sleeves lined with gold thread. From the bottom of the bust to the floor, the dress was made of nothing but layers of airy, form-fitting, dark peach chiffon. It was simple, it was graceful, it hugged my slight curves. The dress wasn’t only beautiful, it symbolized that my uncle, who insisted that I have a new gown made, was buying my milk-and-honey act. Soon, he would want to give bigger favors, and I would happily oblige him.
As Verona sewed and trimmed the finishing touches, I observed myself in the mirror again, turning “Aquarium” by Camille Saint-Saëns up on my stereo against the noise that was forming outside of my bedroom door.
There was to be a ball tonight, the thirteenth of May, to officially welcome the French to Italy. It was to be the most lavish and most expensive ball that Italy had seen in decades, and it was only to show that James had a more luxuriant court than Louis. For a couple of days now, the court had been in constant movement: Cooks, musicians, traveling entertainers, tailors and seamstresses, Queen Maria’s favorite event planners, and countless others were in continuous route from the queen and king’s rooms to my grandmother’s apartments and back again – a route which coincidentally passed by my room. As it was, I didn’t mind the noise. It reminded me that there were a lot more people in the palace not than before, with the Italian courtiers back from France along with additional French courtiers that accompanied Louis and Francis. I loved the masses; it made me feel less vulnerable, less alone that I was before in such a foreboding place.
I was disturbed from my thoughts and Verona from her work by a knock on the door. I knew that knock, it was the knock we junior Swans used. Two sharp knocks, a pause and one more knock after that.
“Ready, Madame Italia?” asked George, poking his dark head into my room. I couldn’t help but smiling at the sight of him.
“Coming, Prince Charming. Just putting the finishing touches on my dress,” I replied lightly, glancing at the dress again.
“Actually, I’m done, Your Highness,” said Verona, her loose dark brown hair bouncing as she gathered her things. I thanked her with a large round emerald and she curtsied deeply and modestly in response. I couldn’t help but think that she reminded me of someone as she left.
“Hurry along! The French are waiting to see what they bought,” said George with a goofy grin.
The pillow I threw missed him by inches as he dodged out of my room, but it would have hit Madeline de Luc in the face if she hadn’t caught it.
“Your Highness,” she greeted warily as she walked into the room in an elaborate gown, placing the pillow back on the couch. A girl named Emma Marino, who I used to play with when I was younger and who I remembered liking and two other girls that I didn’t know followed her in. Their heels clacked on the freshly polished marble floor, and their dresses swished around them before they came to a stop in front of me and looked at me expectantly. I stared at them, they smiled at me.
“Uh…yes?” I questioned their eager faces.
“Yes,” Emma answered back, seeming confused.
“Do you need something?” I asked, a little confused myself.
“We are your ladies-in-waiting. We are to accompany you to the ball,” said an airy voiced girl with honey blond hair.
“Since when?” I asked, suspicion creeping into my tone.
“Since My Lady, The King’s Mother told us so a few hours ago,” responded a sharp looking girl, running her hand threw her caramel tresses.
“Oh really?” I was deeply suspicious now.
Madeline nodded.
I shrugged as if it didn’t matter while I slid on a topaz droop necklace.
As I left my room en route to the ball, with me new ladies at me heels, my mind was reeling with the meaning behind why my grandmother appointed them. She had never given me ladies-in waiting before, just ladies maids and Francesca. Well, actually, it had been my grandfather who had supplied them. What was she doing? I needed to shake the thoughts from my mind; I needed to focus on the night ahead. I had to be completely focused on the kings. All I had to do was be polite and attentive tonight and my star would rise a little higher in their favor. I needed that, and I wasn’t going to have my planned ruined because I was contemplating my grandmother and her schemes. So, although I desperately wanted to figure out what Jane was trying to pull, I decided that I would have to save the subject for later: At the moment, I simply did not have the capacity to care.
*************
The grand ball room had been transformed into a masterpiece. There was a gigantic carved wooden table that had been set up on the right side of the room, which was a risen platform, with enough room to host a hundred people. The table boasted several vases of beautiful flowers, from lady slippers to freesias to orchids. The ceiling had been decorated with golden stars that didn’t even need the dark to shine. The room was only lit by vanilla scented candles, which, combined with the deep golden and cream of the walls, gave the space a warm and relaxed glow. The left side of the room was completely cleared for dancing, and a string quartet sat in the corner waiting for the king’s command. Since the grand ball room was on the uppermost floor of the palace, the French doors that led to balconies on the left and front walls were opened to the night sky, showcasing Italy’s skyline.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” ask George who was at my side out nowhere. He slid his arm around my waist and guided me to the middle of the table where he took a seat beside Benjamin and sat me down beside him. I liked the placement. I was far enough away from my grandmother, the kings, and Francis that I could be comfortable, but close enough to engage in conversation with them if they wanted. But that probably wouldn’t be necessary, for my aunt Camille was entertaining them all with stories about her time as Queen of Portugal. I was also seated so that I had a good view of all the people George and Benjamin were pointing out to me.
“That man there,” George was saying, nodding towards a familiar handsome young man who was stare-flirting with a girl sitting opposite him, “that’s Alfonzo Rivera, but everyone calls him Alfie. He’s one of the king’s closest friends and he sleeps with literally every beautiful woman he sees. I’m surprised he hasn’t contracted a disease by now.”
I laughed at that, thinking of my best friend Blake, who was the exact same way. Blake, however, did not limit himself to just beautiful women; he slept with any woman that would have him.
“The lady he’s staring at is Mia Machiavelli, daughter to the Duke of Naples. Alfie has been fooling around with her for about a month now and the duke still doesn’t know,” Benjamin added with a smirk.
“And those two girls over there,” George prompted, looking at two brunette women sitting at the right end of the table, gazing at Alfonzo longingly, “they’re sisters, Ember and Amber, both of them have been sleeping with him for a year and neither of them knows that the other is sleeping with him too.”
“Who’s that?” I asked, gazing at a beautiful but bitter looking woman beside Alfie.
“That’s his wife, Victoria Sharpe. She knows everything,” Benjamin responded with a sly smile.
I nodded, understanding.
“That man there, is literally the devil,” George said crossly, looking at a sturdy old man who sat a few seats down from King James.
Benjamin nodded fervently in agreement and added,” Cardinal Tortuga, the advisor to the king. He’s always spewing poison into someone’s ear. Unfitting for a member of the clergy I’d say.”
I was about to ask why they thought he was so evil when a peacock feather caught my eye. I focused on the feather and found that it was attached to a loud peacock feather fan that was thrashing wildly in the hand of a tanned, brown haired female at the right head of the table. She was staring deliberately and with deep seduction towards something on the left side of the table. I followed her gaze and realized she was staring at my uncle, who stared back at her with deep desire in his eyes. The woman responded by batting her long eyelashes and waving her peacock feather fan at him. I looked towards Maria, who had noticed the exchange, but being the dignified Spanish princess that she was, kept her head held high and put on a sweet smile on her face. Annamaria on the other hand, looked upon her father with disgust.
“Who is that woman?” I asked, dislike noticeable in my tone as I nodded toward the Peacock lady.
Benjamin awkwardly looked for George to take this one. “Remember when I told you that James was drifting? Well, that,” he looked towards Peacock, “is what he is drifting towards.”
“Hm,” I said thoughtfully, appraising the girl. I had to admit she was pretty, but nowhere close to as pretty as Maria. “Her name?”
“Catherine Vespucci,” George answered with a grim tone.
“How long?”
George understood the question, “About six months. James has had a few mistresses in the past but she has lasted the longest. I admit it is quite impressive. The only reason she isn’t by him now is because James wants to give the impression that all is well between him and Maria and that Italy and Spain are still a united front.”
The king called for the musicians to play and they immediately struck up a tune; moments later, over a dozen couples here dancing heartily.
George got up and held his hand out to me, “You must dance.”
“I will not,” I defied him.
“Yes you will. In order for your little plan to work, you need to be seen. You need to be seen and to interact with the nobles that have the ear of the king because they can help get you out of this. You will dance for them and with them if the ask, and you will smile like this is the best night of your life. You need their influence, connections and support, so you will dance.”
I could never argue with George. I couldn’t deny his logic and common sense.
“Oh, and it wouldn’t hurt you if you threw a smile in the direction of the kings and the prince every once in a while,” George added smartly.
We danced as heartily if not more so, as everyone else on the floor. George was a good partner, leading me so perfectly that I could focus fully on my uncle, King Louis and Prince Francis. I did what George told me and flashed them cheerful smiles ever so often. James responded with a satisfied grin, Louis with a calculating look, and Francis with a deep and embarrassed blush.
After a couple of dances, the Duke of Florence asked George if he could cut in and George willingly obliged, handing me over to him with ease. The Earl of Savoy, a close friend of the king, asked me to dance next, followed by the ever charming Alfonzo Rivera. Then my personal friend and great philosopher Lord Carlen cut in. Francis shyly danced with me next at his father’s request and the encouragement of my uncle. King Louis was the last person I danced with and I noticed that he held me tighter and closer that my previous partners, and he stared at me greedily the whole time, like a piece of meat.
I went out on one of the many balconies after that to get some air. I had spent too much energy pretending tonight, I just wanted to go to sleep. As I looked out on the lights of Caserta, both the natural ones in the sky and the ones created by florescent bulbs that lit the buildings and streetlamps of the city, I was instantly enchanted: In part by the beauty of the night, and in part by the possibility of living a life outside of my own in Italy. I looked down on the countless people finishing their day with a creamy cup of gelato or a walk around the town with their dogs. They were so carefree, so untroubled, they inspire me. I wanted to be like them, with them, in their world. As I glanced over my shoulder at the crowd of French and Italian courtiers, I realized that most of them were nothing but posers who smiled fakely at the people they hated and would betray the people they loved for a few lire and a raise in title. I was turning into them already, me, who had spent most of my night fake smiling on people I didn’t like. I played games just like them. But I didn’t want to, I wanted to get out. I wanted to be like the people below, who could freely stroll down the street without worrying if they were going to be married off to a random person the next day. I wanted to do that. Right now.
I poked my head back into the ballroom, to check the placement of my uncle. I didn’t see him at first, but on a second, more thorough scan of the room, I found that he was cooped in the corner with Catherine Vespucci. Both of their faces were concealed behind her peacock fan, and Alfonzo, his wife, and a few other girls were blocking them from view. But the cover really wasn’t necessary; all the guests were so encompassed in the festivities that no one even turned to look for the king.
I knew that James wouldn’t notice that I was gone since he was so completely occupied, so I took my chance and slipped stealthily from the room. I nearly raced all the way to the back entrance of the palace, my heels making much more noise than wanted in the silent halls. I slipped my dress and my pumps off before I stepped outside, not wanting to get them dirty. I giggled blissfully at the feeling of the chilly air against my exposed skin and the smooth stone beneath my feet. I felt giddy at the fact that I was a short, sheer slip away from streaking around the streets of Italy. I walked and walked around the dark streets, making sure that there were no people before I turned down a new one; I didn’t want to be spotted. The more breaths I took of the fresh, infinite night air, the more relaxed my shoulders became. I was about a few miles away from the palace when I started to here a couple of voices calling for someone. I turned warily around, but when I saw no one behind me I continued walking. I heard them again, this time they were closer. My legs unconsciously started to move faster. The third time I heard the voices they were so close that I heard the name they were calling. Mine. I turned towards the voices and saw that three men were standing a few dozen meters away from me. I noted that they were all sporting my family crest; they were men of my uncle’s service. I turned and ran, grateful that I had decided to take my walking trip barefoot instead of with the pumps. I raced down random streets, trying to lose the trio of men, but they were close on my tail. I realized that I was laughing exuberantly after a few moments; maybe it was just from the running. I was still laughing and running as I glanced behind me to see where the men were. They were closer, but not that much closer.
I came to a sudden and painful stop when I crashed into something and fell on the ground on top of it. When I regained my composure, I looked upon my hindrance and found that it was a boy. Well, more of a man than a boy. I could see him quite clearly for we had coincidentally landed under a streetlamp. My wandering eyes were immediately drawn to his. They were the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen in my life. They were multicolored. They looked like their base was made of molten silver and then was infused with melted sapphire, emeralds, amethyst, topaz, aquamarine, garnet and any other jewels imaginable. They glittered and sparkled like the stars above. Just like stars.
“Princess Isabel! Your Highness!” My pursuers shouted, their voices sounding much too close. I snapped back into reality.
As if sensing my panic, the starry eyed boy pulled me to my feet. I was about to take off when I realized he was holding me by the tops of my arms. My eyebrows crinkled in confusion.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my heart beating fast.
“It sounds like they want you,” the boy replied in a sweet, melodic voice. It reminded me of something; some distant time. But, I didn’t have time to think on that now.
“Let go of me,” I replied, getting angry at him.
“I don’t think so. You need to go home with them. You shouldn’t be walking around alone, there are strange people out at night,” he scolded like he was genuinely concerned.
“Let go!” I said again with more force, squirming to get free. He was strong, but I finally broke away from his grasp. It was too late though. A few steps away and I felt an arm come around me. Another arm grabbed me too, with enough strength to hold me, but with respect for a royal, carefully, as not to hurt me. There was no need for both of them though I wasn’t going to struggle. I had given up, they had caught me, and the chase was over.
All the men bowed their heads in thanks to the starry eyed boy for holding me, relief clouding their faces. I childishly stuck my tongue out at the boy as I passed, and he smiled, amused, in response. All three of the men of my uncle’s service offered me their jackets, but I politely refused. My mind drifted between the strange starry eyed boy and what awaited me at the palace.
I should have known it was my grandmother and not my uncle who had called the guards on me. She was the first thing I saw when they escorted me to my room. She was holding my dress and my pumps away from her body and between her index finger and thumb like they were dead vermin. My surroundings were quiet; everyone was still at the ball. Jane didn’t look angry, she looked satisfied with herself and smug. A fresh wave of dislike for her came over me.
“I wasn’t trying to escape. I just wanted to get some fresh air,” I said truthfully. “Aren’t I allowed to walk around?”
She ignored my sarcastic question and dismissed my truthful statement with a passive shrug of her shoulders.
“Francesca!” Jane barked.
Franny was in the room seconds later, unruffled as always.
“Yes, My Lady?” she replied stiffly.
“Make sure that our little princess,” she sneered the word, “doesn’t leave this room unless I give the permission.” With that, she tossed my dress and shoes on the bed as if they were garbage and glided out of the room. The three men bowed deeply to me and nodded to Franny before following after my grandmother.
I scoffed after Jane as I slipped into my bed without changing out of my slip. Francesca obviously knew that trying to console me would be a lost cause, so she kissed me on the forehead, turned off the lights, and slipped quietly out of the room. Luckily, I was completely drained from the events of tonight and had no trouble falling asleep instead of uselessly fuming over my supercilious grandmother.
*************
That night, I had the strangest of dreams. I went swimming in the Mediterranean Sea, but as soon as my whole body was submerged, the water constricted around me. It became thicker, and denser, and it grew hands so it could grab me by the neck and pull me under. The hands were holding me under, laughing, waiting for me to drown in the water. But as I was starting to lose consciousness, I realized that the Mediterranean Sea was no longer made of water, but of tar. Black, heavy tar. I was going to die. But I didn’t. Another hand, one not made of the tar of the sea, but of warm, soft flesh, was pulling me to the surface. The many tar hands that were holding me tried to drag me back in protest, but the soft hand was stronger against them all. My liberator pulled me to shore, and his warm hands melted away all the tar off my body, and most importantly my eyes. I could see him now. It was the strange starry eyed boy, his eyes shining so much more vividly bright in all the darkness that most would have to shield their eyes. But I didn’t have to. His bright eyes turned the menacing tar back to content water. Before I woke up in a fright, before I even had a chance to thank him, I noticed that he was glowing, like pure gold. Like an Angel.
