Maplepunzel, Part 13

Scott wasn’t planting flowers in the garden when Maple went looking for him. He wasn’t by the fruit orchards, chopping wood. He wasn’t in the cottage. Betty stood at the door, one big black eye waiting for Scott, while the other kept an eye on Hilary snoring over her embroidery at the table. 

Maple shook Hilary hard, trying to wake her up. “Huh? Oh. Jeff? Where are you?” She grabbed the ivory mirror and showed her Jeff, who watched from the reflected cottage with concern in his dark eyes. “Life is so brief, my love. And we are such a pair…such a pair of briefs…” She giggled, her eyes horribly tired. “Scott…where is he?” She turned her wrinkled head, gazing around. “Oh! He went into town.” She yawned. “Said he had something…someone…needed to check up on. He said he’d try to get there before he took his nap. He had coffee too.”

The coffee! Maple’s eyes widened. She grabbed the cup and dumped it into the nearest plant…which drooped the moment the liquid entered the soil. Betty licked Hilary’s hand, trying to awaken her. She gently draped a quilt from the bed over Hilary as she passed out again, muttering garbled Shakespearean phrases, then leaned the mirror with Jeff on it against her wooden box with spools of thread and needles so he and Betty could keep an eye on her. Since she had a lunch break coming, she grabbed a knitted wrap of her own and hurried down across the garden towards town.

The little village, with its charming whitewashed village and smooth green town square, was bustling today. Every building was decorated with garlands of bright flowers and ropes of green ivy in honor of Prince Victor’s upcoming wedding. It was all anyone in the village could talk about. Even peasants would be permitted to attend. The seamstress and tailor were swamped with orders for new clothes. Grocers piled boxes high with sweets, meat, and fruit for the reception dinner, while the winery dug its most expensive vintage out of their vaults.

She finally found Scott at the printer’s shop, talking to the printer and head editor of the Wennaria Gazette. To her horror, Scott was yawning deeply, even as he asked the grouchy balding man setting the type questions about Abernathy and Brumpton.

“Look, pal,” the man grumbled, “I’ve never heard those names before. I have two reporters who are coverin’ the wedding, and neither of them have those names. Tell Queenie she either made a mistake, or the guy is lying. And if he is, I’ll sue him for usin’ the name of my publication without asking permission.” 

“Ok, ok, I can take a hint!” Scott, now dressed in the flowing white blouse, brown vest, and brown cotton apron of the gardeners yawned right in the man’s face. “Excuse me. Thank you for your,” he almost fell over into the typeface, “time. I’ll just see myself out. Yeah.” Maple grabbed his arm before he passed out on the letters and ended up with this evening’s edition printed on his left cheek.

“Maple?” He squinted through exhausted amber orbs. “Wha’cha doin’ here? You found out anythin’?” Maple nodded, showing him the scrolls she’d written for the queen. “Damn it.” He managed to read them, even as he swayed on his feet and his thick black eyelashes fluttered. “I thought I saw Abernathy take a carriage into town, but I ain’t seen him.”

That was when she saw the three familiar shadows flickering in the alley. She grabbed Scott’s hand and dragged him over, pushing him behind trash barrels and ducking behind them herself just as Pavla emerged, a black hood covering that too-tight gown. She was followed by Brumpton in her plain white nurse’s uniform, with its starched cap and apron. Maple had seen the big man in the fancy gray suit with the lacy ascot around the castle. He’d claimed he was there to cover the wedding for the Gazette and make sure everything ran smoothly. His gray-white hair was slicked and smoothed to within an inch of its life. 

“Well?” Maple winced at Pavla’s whine. “Where is it? We need to step up druggin’ the coffee. People are startin’ to ask questions. I don’t want nothin’ goin’ wrong with my weddin’. You two are the best potion-makers in Berlania, an’ I more of your Valerian.”

Abernathy sniffed. “For a price, of course, Your Majesty. You know we don’t work for nothing.” 

“Of course.” The long scarlet-lacquered fingernails pulled a small bag from her cloak, handing it to the man. “This should more than compensate for your troubles an’ the extra potions.”

“I’m a little worried myself.” Brumpton wrinkled her fat nose. “Not everyone is drinking the coffee. That maid with the short hair hasn’t touched it since she came here, and the king and queen have refused to drink more.”

“I ain’t worried ‘bout the queen an’ king.” Pavla’s cruel blood-red smile chilled Maple to her bones. “As long as I have their son, I ain’t worried ‘bout them. It’s that little maid and the gardener. The maid is my wayward ward. I thought I got rid of her. Stupid little chit thinks she’s in love with my prince. I thought we shook the gardener when Pruitt had him fired at Hope Springs. He’s too clever, that one.”

“We already dealt with him.” Abernathy’s attempt at smirking just looked stiff. “He’s been drinking the coffee like everyone else. I don’t think he’ll be awake for much longer.”

“Good.” Her wide, sharp grin was entirely too feral. “I have errands to run before I get back to the castle. Brumpton, I want you to give Victor his sleeping draught tonight. I can’t have him figurin’ out what’s goin’ on either. He ain’t no dummy. Now,” she pulled her cape closer around her, “you two go on’ an get outta here. Make sure my hubby-to-be don’t figure out more than he needs to know.”

Scott’s amber eyes were wide, even as he yawned deeply. They ducked under the barrels as the trio went their separate ways. Maple got under him to keep his legs from going under. “Mapes, we have to get back to the castle and stop Brumpton from giving Victor that drug. In fact, you’re gonna have to be the one to do it. I need to get back to work. They’ll be questioning how long I’ve been gone as it is.” His voice grew raspy from lack of sleep as his eyes fluttered. “Just as soon as I take my nap.” 

She jumped away just as Scott toppled to the ground, snoring heavily. Now she was really fed up! Of all the times for him to overdose on coffee! She needed him for this. Oh well. It looked like it was up to her to save her own fiancee from her so-called guardian. She managed to rouse Scott long enough to get him to his feet, but he slept on her shoulder the entire trip home on the trolley-carriage, snoring heavily in her ear. 

Maple ducked into the kitchen the moment she got back, quickly tying an apron around her waist. “Where have you been?” Miss Mary yawned, nearly falling over the vegetables she chopped. “We could have used your help! The wedding is tomorrow. All of the upstairs linens need to be turned out, the hall in the west wing needs to be dusted again, and Miss Pavla says someone needs to bring the Prince his coffee.” She yawned again and nearly pitched forward. “Wonder if I should cut back on that stuff. Doesn’t seem to be doing me any good. I think I’ve gotten more tired since I started drinking it.”

She nodded fiercely and grabbed the nearly coffee cup, dumping it out. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Might be a bad batch or something.” Miss Mary stretched her arms as her eyes fluttered. “I don’t have the time to play nursemaid to that man, and I have no idea where Brumpton is. Maple, could you take the tray to the Prince? Just this once.”

This was the chance she’d been waiting for! She nodded eagerly and took the silver tray tray with the steaming bowl of soup and cup of coffee. “Don’t…spill.” Miss Mary nodded as she stirred a pot of fragrant beef and vegetable soup. “Miss Pavla…will have…my head.” Her head bobbed over the stove as her eyes closed. Maple tip-toed off with the tray, leaving Miss Mary to snore over the soup pot while standing up.