Maplepunzel, Part 7

Maple leaned over Hilary’s shoulder as the mirror image rippled and waved, finally revealing a large, snowy white chateau with peaked roofs that almost matched the blue skies. Miles and miles of silky emerald green lawns lined with graceful fruit-laden plum trees waving in the breeze led to a road paved with white stones. Carriages passed by, filled with lords and ladies in beautiful gowns, ruffled pastel parasols, and fine suits with thick satin cravats. 

“Hello, everyone!” The beautiful older woman strode dramatically down the wide dual staircase, her enormous lilac gown dripping with ruffles and violets. Maple thought she was gorgeous, with her auburn curls, flashing brown eyes, and scarlet lips with only a few lines. Her golden tiara with its large amethysts glittered in the bright sunshine. “Welcome to Bedside Manor!” She frowned, looking around. “Where is that girl? She was supposed to be here already! It’s almost time for our tea party. This is our engagement party, and neither the bride nor the groom are here!”

Hilary dashed past beds of delicate summer flowers, of red and pink roses sparkling with beads of dew like diamonds. “Betty! Where is she? Princess Elizabeth Miranda Roberts, if you’re lost in a book under a tree again…”

That was when she heard the laughter. Two figures leaned together under a plum tree, their noses over a stack of papers. One was undoubtedly Scott, in the same old tattered green and brown woodsman’s hose and tunic. Despite the plum he ate and the juice smeared across his plump cheek, his eyes shined as he gazed with near-reverence at the smaller woman next to him. 

Maple thought she was the prettiest girl she’d ever seen. Dark shining waves to her shoulders, long, slender limbs, soft wide brown eyes framed by thick eyelashes and a perfect pink bow mouth. She was tiny compared to even Scott, who wasn’t tall, but she had presence. Her sweet face was flushed as she read the pages to him, despite the wide-brimmed straw hat trimmed with blue flowers. Her blue dress was a simple peasant romper over a white blouse streaked with dirt, tied with a ruffled embroidered apron.

“Coming, Hilary!” Betty turned to Scott with a radiant smile. “See you later? We can finish reading my newest play after the party.”

He nodded eagerly. “Yeah, Betty Betty Betty. I’ll be there with bells on.” His voice became more serious, softer, as he finished the last of the plum. “I guess you haven’t told her yet that you won’t be marrying…” He muttered. “Prince Victor.”

She sighed and turned away. “I don’t know, Scott. You say you have the money for us to leave. How did you get that money? I know what Hilary pays you. It’s not nearly enough to afford passage for two all the way to Yorkalia, let alone to buy a home for us when we get there!”

“Let’s say I’ve done…extra work around town…and leave it at that.” He gave her a hug and a deep kiss that left her weak in the knees. “Meet you here first thing tomorrow?”

“Scott,” Betty protested, “Hilary’s holding my engagement ball tomorrow! Everyone will be there. I can’t leave now!”

He rubbed her hand. “We love each other, don’t we?” His hand went to the papers. “You want to focus on your writing, don’t you? You’re one of the best writers in the kingdom. HIlary has performed your shows in the Hippodrome Theater, hasn’t she? That’s the largest theater in all of Hope Springs! You’re not any more comfortable with this than I would be.” 

She nodded. “Well…yes…I do love writing. More than almost anything.” Her fingers ran over the page. “Writing is like breathing for me. It’s how I communicate. How I process things.” She leaned into Scott. “But Hilary raised me. She took me in when I was abandoned by my parents in the Plainslands. I owe her so much.”

“I know that, Betty.” He rubbed her back, letting her lean into him. “But you’re your own woman now. You’re old enough to make your own decisions. How often have you seen Victor in the past two years? How many times has he held you like this, met you in the garden, seen your work? He loves fighting and war, Betty. He cares about abstract ideals, not people.”

Her soft pale cheek leaned on his broad chest. “Oh Scott, I do love you. You’ve been nothing but good to me. You’re always there when I need you, but…”

“AHEM!” Hilary made a face. “Betty, I’ve been calling and calling you for over ten minutes! Some of the most important people in this kingdom are going to be at this tea party.” Her look became decidedly frosty as she turned to Scott. “As for you, Woodsman Sherwood, I need to talk to you.” 

Betty looked up at him with those large, soft brown eyes of hers. “See you tomorrow?” 

He nodded, his voice husky. “Yeah.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek before hurrying off towards the house. 

“Woodsman Sherwood,” Hilary began in her most commanding tone, “you’ve done exceptional work for Bedside Manor. However, I don’t like you being so forward with my ward. She already has a suitor, one who loves her and is appropriate for her station. You have neither status nor financial means.”

“Does he love her, Hildy?” Scott gave her that little smirk. “Or does he love running off to war? How often has Prince Victor been here the last few months since you made this deal with King Tom and Queen Gertie? Why don’t you ask her who she wants to be with?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” She gave him her most commanding and frigid glare. “Because I’m banishing you from Hope Springs. I give you an hour to gather your things from the gardener’s cottage and leave this country, or my men will throw you out.” 

“What?” Scott tried to grin, but it was shaky. “Now come on, Hildy! I’ve done everything you wanted, chopped wood and planted seedlings and weeded the garden…”

Hilary pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. “This is a list of all the money you’ve embezzled from Flowergrams Flower Shop and Erie-Lackawanna Coaches in Hope Springs. Thank heavens my financial advisor Baron Rollie Pruitt caught the discrepancies.” 

“Why, yes.” Scott’s face darkened as a tall, corpulent man in a fine black silk suit and waistcoat came up behind Hilary. “Thank heavens Queen Hilary hired me three months ago to keep her books and rescue her from charlatans like you.” His face was all flab and jowls, with piggy eyes and a slimy sneer that gave him the look of a fat snake. The abalone buttons on his waistcoat looked like they were going to pop off the corpulent frame any second.

Maple’s furious face matched Scott’s in the mirror. Pavla was going to marry me off to that? She thought. He’s the ugliest thing I ever saw, and mean, too! He didn’t need to tattle on Scotty like that!

Pruitt handed her another paper. “This is the testimony from the shop keepers who claimed he made deals with them. Flowergrams claims he sold bouquets. Hope Springs Carriages says he sold cut-rate tickets. Where is that money now, hmm? He seems like nothing but a scoundrel to me, Your Majesty. Certainly not worthy of the most glamorous and refined country in the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Let me see that…” Scott lunged for the paper, but Pruitt pulled it away. “Maybe I did take…a little…off the top, but it was for a good purpose!”

“What, lining your pocket?” She pointed at the small white clapboard cottage with gingerbread trim on the edge of the garden. “You will get your things and go. I don’t want thieves and knaves spoiling the reputation of my perfect kingdom!”

“Nothing’s perfect, Hildy.” Scott shot that glare back. “I’m going to go tell Betty I have to leave suddenly. I’ll say my Aunt Agatha got sick and called me home.”

“No need. I don’t want thieves like you in Bedside Manor. I’ll tell her.” She narrowed her eyes. “And for heaven sakes, stop calling me ‘Hildy!’ It’s ‘Your Majesty’!”

Scott gave her a mocking bow, but his eyes were cold. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He took off for the gardener’s cottage and Hilary made her way to the main building as the glass rippled again, now showing Pruitt making his way into the long shadows of the plum orchard.

“Your Majesty?” Pruitt made a face as he pushed branches aside as they slapped his face. “When the Berlania Kingdom takes over this ridiculous little mudhole, these annoying trees are going to be the first things to go!”

“You never were very good with plant life.” Maple’s breath caught in her sore throat as Pavla stepped out of the shadows between two thick plum trees. “You cannot expect trees to behave like your hunting dogs. They will not obey when commanded.” She looked exactly the same, in her clingy black gown with its layers of red, black, and gold satin and lace, her onyx tiara glittering dully in the waning sunlight. “Did you tell her what her…gardener…has been up to?”

“Yes.” That smirk of Pruitt’s chilled Maple to the bone. “It worked like a charm. She banished Sherwood. You should have seen how he and that smart little princess of hers were being all lovey-dovey in the garden. This should nip that blooming relationship in the bud.”

Pavla nodded, her own predatory smirk lighting up her sharp, predatory face. “Yes,” she cawed in pleasure. “Wonderful! We can move in tomorrow, before the ball, when all of the nobles will be there to see their precious princess engaged to the Prince of Wennria.” 

Her smirk widened, giving her face the look of an especially evil red-haired crow. “Prince Victor won’t be at his own engagement party. He’s too busy fighting my generals in Berlania and going to Brittanica to make impassioned speeches for the cause of unity in the kingdoms to bother with silly things like his fiancee. My men will make sure of that.”

“Good.” Pruitt nodded. “I’m looking forward to the day we can drain this overly bright sinkhole. All of these frivolous parties and plays and the artists who draw elaborate murals, but don’t make a cent off their work…it makes me ill. I’ll be happier as soon as I can claim that bride you’re preparing for me. You say she’s beautiful and talented?”

Maple gritted her teeth and clutched the arm of her chair as Pavla nodded with that knowing smirk. “Very beautiful. Not as beautiful as me, of course, but quite pretty in her own vulgar way. I’ve been training her in the dark arts. She’s not doing very well at it, but she’ll learn. I’ve kept her isolated, made sure no light magic or love can touch her. She’ll be ready for your arms in a few months.” 

“I’m looking forward to it. Now,” Pruitt grumbled as another plum hit him in the nose, leaving juice running down his chin, “let’s get out of here, before these fruit-laden weapons whip my face to within an inch of its life!” 

The glass rippled again, this time following lords in fine tuxedos with gold sashes and ladies in pastel gowns into a stunning ballroom. It was even more lavish, and certainly prettier, than the similar hall at dreary Prague Castle. The wide staircase and wooden railings were polished so hard, they gleamed in the light of the sparkling crystal chandelier. Even the polished ebony grand piano and sparkling checkered floor spoke of taste and refinement. Guards in the maroon and gold velvet uniforms of Hope Springs greeted every guest warming, shaking their hands and barely touching their polished bayonets.

The glass rippled again, pulling back until it revealed the front hall. Betty came in from the garden, looking like every fairy tale princess rolled into one. Scott’s breath caught and the little deer raised her head, gazing at the pink ribbon choker with the gemstone flower in the shame of a plum blossom around her delicate neck. The rest of her snow-white gown was equally feminine and lovely, with its tulle and pink ribbon sleeves, tight ribboned bodice, and wide skirt festooned with white satin overlay, delicate Irish lace, and satin ruffles. Her pretty little feet were clad in dainty plum blossom-trimmed pink silk slippers. 

“Betty!” The Scott in the mirror ducked in an open window, looking ludicrously out of place in his faded leaf green tunic and loose brown leggings with the patches at the knees. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to climb the tower to your room! Are you ready to go? Why aren’t you packed?” He held a worn leather saddle bag  in his hand, even as his breath caught in his throat. “You look…really nice like that. I’ve never seen you more beautiful. But isn't it a little…fancy…for a boat ride to Yorkalia?”

“I’m not going to Yorkalia, or anywhere with you.” Her wide brown eyes were deep, dark icecubes. The gentle, warm voice that used to whisper sweet nothings was now colder than Pruitt’s soul. “Why did you lie to me about where the money came from? Scott, you stole it! Is that why you wouldn’t tell me how you got it?”

“Why does it matter where it came from?” Scott rubbed her little hand in his thicker one. “I did it for us, Betty. I know you’ve wanted to write without Hilary interfering, and I want to run my own business. As long as we’re together…”

She yanked away as he leaned in for a kiss. “No, Scott. I can’t go with you now. I don’t know why I wanted to in the first place.” Her eyes bored straight into his, furious and hurt. “You’re nothing like Victor. I thought…you worked so hard in the garden, and you were there for me when he wasn’t. I thought you were noble and good. I thought you cared about me. But you’re not, are you? You’re nothing like Victor. He’d never steal anything from anyone!”

Scott narrowed his own amber eyes. “How did you find out?” 

“Pruitt and Hilary told me after the tea party this afternoon. They told me everything.” She glared at him. “Why are you here, anyway, instead of fighting like Victor and his brother? They’re standing up for something important.”

“Maybe because I wanted to be here for you when he wasn’t. Betty, I love you.” Scott reached into his pocket. “Betty…I wanted to ask you something important…”

Her face may as well have been made of stone. “I don’t want to hear it. It’ll just be a lie anyway. What else have you lied about?”

“Not my feelings for you.” Scott frowned, his fingers rubbing around a square bulge in his pocket. “Betty, I heard Victor talking about his fiancee at some bar in Brittanica. He mentioned she was sweet, very sweet, but…smart, too. And I thought…what would it be like to come home to a girl like Princess Elizabeth Roberts?”

The guards at the door heard the sharp slap clear as day. They rushed in front of Scott as he pulled back, their bayonets blocking him from their infuriated princess. “From the moment we first met, I thought you were a strange choice for a royal gardener.” She pulled back to the first step, glaring pure hatred at him. “I thought you wanted to take me away because you loved me. Because you loved us. Because you cared about us. But you don’t, do you? I can’t run away with a man I can’t trust. Hilary was right. You’re just a woodsman, and you’ll never be anything else.”

Betty ran up the wide, polished mahogany staircase, tears flowing down her painted cheeks. Scott moved to follow her, but the guards grabbed his arms. “Oh no, sir. The queen told us you might try to come back. You’re gonna get out of here, before you end up in the jail house downtown.” They dragged him out the door and down the stairs, throwing him out the front stoop. 

Maple’s eyes flew towards her Scott. His eyes brimmed as he watched, his throat constricting with the painful memories. Hilary narrowed her eyes, glaring at Scott. Betty leaned into Hilary’s stroking fingers, but her eyes never left Scott’s. 

Hilary’s own eyes widened as the sound of soft grumbles emerged from the perfectly manicured bushes circling the front porch. Blood red eyes watched from the deepening shadows as Scott, his cherubic face bent in pain and heartbreak, dropped a small white box in the saddle bag. Red eyes and gleaming black orbs that cawed softly watched as he galloped down the immaculately paved drive and onto the main road, making his way to the closest boat to Yorkalia. 

The moment the strong, handsome woodsman left was when their kinswoman said to strike. The two guards stepped outside, their eyes turning towards the bushes. The taller had no sooner gazed in the bushes than two thick, furry gray arms reached out, slapped a hand over his mouth, and yanked him into the shadows. Two man-sized crows picked up the other, wrapping him in their wings until his cries were smothered, dragging him into the shadows around the bushes. Two more ran their feathers over a guard until he could do nothing but drop his bayonet and giggle helplessly. 

“Yes, boys.” Pavla chuckled as more ogres and crows dragged every guard on the porch into the shadows of the plum garden. She wore a heavy black velvet cape that obscured most of her body but those sneering almond eyes. “Strip them, silence them, and drain their souls dry. They’ll do well in our army.” She nodded at the glittering throngs in the ballroom. “You can deal with those fools in there. I’ll handle Queen Hilary and her silly brat myself.”