Cinderella Spell - Laurie Lee Page 0,44

palace.

24

Preparing guest rooms fell to the responsibility of upstairs staff. Not this time. Marissa touched the ivy leaves of the bronze wreath on the door to the room that would belong to Cinderella until the engagement ended and she joined Robert in his rooms. Marissa opened the door, refusing to follow those thoughts further. The rose room. Crossing the space to the windows, Marissa pulled apart heavy curtains. Light spilled through the French doors leading onto the balcony.

“Marissa, this is not to be born. You are not a servant in this palace.”

Lady DeGanne entered from the hallway, her protest causing Marissa to cringe. “I wanted a look at the space. Make sure it’s what’s best for Robert.”

“For Robert? He isn’t staying here.”

“But the woman he thinks he loves is. As his closest friend and stepsister, it is my duty to make things ready for Cinderella.”

“You would do better to put straw in her bed and clog the chimney so it smokes.”

Marissa rubbed a finger through dust covering the mahogany dresser. “She has contrived her way to the palace. I doubt we can scare her away.”

“You will try?”

Marissa pressed against the ache in her head as she faced her mother. “I don’t know what I will do.”

Lady DeGanne moved closer and rested her hand on Marissa’s cheek. “You are what Robert needs. Hear me out,” she insisted as Marissa opened her mouth to protest. “I care about Robert. He has been a son to me for almost ten years. You make him happy. This other woman …” she shook her head. “If he loves her, why does he battle misery? We all do.”

Marissa stepped away. “Things will change once Cinderella arrives.”

“I pray they do. I will send Mrs. Rowley to you. Give her direction for what you want done. I’ll not have you doing the work of a common maid.” With that, Lady DeGanne swept from the room.

Marissa swished her foot back and forth. Never could glide like Mother. With a sigh, she turned her attention to the room. Soft hewn rose silk paper lined the upper part of the wall. A deeper hue of mauve wainscoting ended at an elevated plate rail. A trio of pictures were needed along the wall with no windows. The lounger could be situated beneath them with an ornate side table. The frames should be made of dark wood to match the thick posters at each corner of the bed.

“Your mother sent for me, Miss.” Mrs. Rowley leaned on a stick as she hobbled into the room.

“You are injured,” Marissa gasped, rushing across the room to assist the aging housekeeper. She wrapped an arm around her for support and helped Mrs. Rowley to a high-backed straight chair.

She sat with a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Child. I can work from here.”

“Nonsense. We must return you to your bedchamber.”

Mrs. Crowley wacked Marissa’s knuckles. “I will do no such thing. This is the room of the intended bride for our prince. I’ll not give someone else the honor of preparing it, not while these old bones are breathing.” She rubbed the back of Marissa’s hand as though concerned her old fingers had caused a sting. “Tell me what you want, and I will be certain everything is perfection.”

Marissa pulled a stool next to the chair. “Very well. The wood needs to gleam. Have them find the orange oil.” She pointed at the blank wall. “Three pictures hanging from the rail. Jelson’s garden prints, I think. His colors will contrast with the rose.”

“What about the border box between the bed posts?”

Marissa walked over to examine the canopy and the band around the top of the bed. Sheer curtains hung behind them, drawn back and tied at each of the posts. “The fabric is solid. No tears or sign it’s been nibbled by rodents. Be sure the linens are lightly starched before pressing.”

“Has the water closet been aired along with the parlor?”

“Oh, yes. Shines almost as much as my own. We do need a writing table, from the yellow sitting room, I think. Choose an upstairs maid to see to the closets. We’ll need a seamstress the morning after Cinderella arrives.”

“Is there a table for the balcony?”

“Have them bring a small iron set from the garden.” Marissa moved to the door leading onto the balcony. At least the black crow wasn’t perched, still watching. She didn’t bother opening the door. She spun to face the room.

“Ah,” Mrs. Rowley cooed. “It is a handsome room, though not the biggest.”

“Robert thinks