Cinderella Spell - Laurie Lee Page 0,5
not young. I’m twelve.” Marissa huffed, flipping her wavy chestnut hair over her shoulder.
“Already?” The countess touched her cheek in a rare display of affection. Its warmth seeped through her skin, and she stilled. Her mother’s green eyes were shaped like almonds. Would hers be the same? A small smile, a thumb moving on her cheek. She smiled back.
The carriage rolled to a stop, drawing everyone’s attention. Her mother’s hand dropped away, and Marissa bounced in her seat. They could hear the driver jump to the ground. Two knocks on the door. Highwaymen? Are we to be accosted on our way to the palace?
“Yes,” mother answered as she pushed her needlepoint into her valise. The door opened. A young man bowed before addressing the occupants. Not highwaymen. I could whip this young lad myself. Mother moved her hand to cover Marissa’s chuckle without taking her eyes from the manservant.
“Madame,” he began, bowing a second time. ‘We have arrived at the edge of the King’s grounds. His grounds are extensive, and it will take several more hours to reach Monmoore Palace. The King arranged a light luncheon for you here.”
She smiled, sitting taller. “That would be lovely. Show Mrs. Boyde where it is so she may prepare our plates.”
“May I help, Mother?” Marissa leaned forward, eager to stretch her legs.
“Help? That is not your…”
“I will watch over her, my Lady.” Mrs. Boyde spoke in a quiet voice. “The child desires movement.”
The countess hesitated, but then waved her hand, acquiescing. “Fine.”
Marissa needed no further word. She leapt from the open doorway, sidetracking the surprised livery servant. She paused for a moment in the middle of the road. Not far ahead, a large stone building with an arch through its middle big enough for the carriage to pass stood guard while flanked by two rows of green hedges. The dirt-crusted road she now stood upon gave way to a cream-colored, raked pavement. She skipped to its edge. Small bits of shells and stones formed the smooth surface. A throat being cleared caught her attention. She followed Mrs. Boyde and others through an opening between the bushes.
A grand table stood in the center of a clearing. White cloth billowed in the afternoon breeze. Servants buzzed around the table, using silver canisters, crystal goblets, and rose-edged china to keep the cloth from taking flight. Marissa stepped to the table, her eyes growing large. She touched the delicate embossed painting of the plate. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
Mrs. Boyde clicked her tongue. “The king seeks to impress.”
Something bumped against the back of Marissa’s knees, sending her bouncing into the table. Mrs. Boyde caught the china cup before it could roll off as Marissa turned. A young man dressed in a hazel-colored uniform held a high-back chair. He nodded at the seat. She held her gown, as she’d always seen Mother do, and settled. The chair moved forward, and she grabbed the edge of the seat to stay in place. Mrs. Boyde held part of her lower lip with her teeth, a habit Marissa knew meant she was trying not to laugh. She swallowed her own giggles as Mother was led to a larger chair. Two attendants moved her closer to the table. I can be just as graceful. She is my mother after all.
The countess smiled at the sumptuous fare provided by the king. Marissa studied her mother, copying the motion of her hands, her choice of silverware. Such delicate movements. She mimicked the bend of her wrist, pinky angled out. She even reached for the decanter of wine, but mother slapped her knuckles again.
“Water, my Dear. Twelve may seem grown to you, but it is not quite old enough.” She softened the reprimand with a smile.
Marissa thanked Mrs. Boyde for the water and then plunged her fork through the meat pie. Her nose quivered as she drew the fork into her mouth and brushed her lips across it. The wine sauce had too much tang, but she knew better than to speak of it. They ate in silence, Marissa seated beside her mother with Mrs. Boyde standing to the side. The next course involved long, thin carrots and shallots along with something that looked like a bird. Sweets followed, crusted pavlova in cream sauce. Marissa licked her fingers until Mother swatted her leg beneath the table.
“Will every meal be this fancy?” Marissa asked, her eyes wide as the attendant replaced the china luncheon plate with a silver sherbet dish.
“Hush, child.” Her mother whispered from behind her