Princess of Glass - Jessica Day George [20]
Marianne was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. “Will there be a gala? With fireworks?” She turned to Poppy. “It’s almost the queen’s birthday. Last year they had a gala, with food and music and fireworks!” Her eyes took on a dreamy look. “And Dickon Thwaite kissed me in a rose bower…”
Lord Richard put down his newspaper. “Young Thwaite did what?”
Marianne blushed bright pink and applied herself to her kippers. Poppy caught her host’s gaze, and they both grinned.
“Whatever it is,” Lord Richard said mildly as he went back to his paper, “I hope that it is properly chaperoned this time. And that there is a card room for Poppy.”
Lady Margaret read the invitation twice. “This is most exciting,” she said finally. “And also a bit… unusual.”
“Tell us!” Marianne tried to snatch the invitation from her mother, who calmly held it out of her reach.
“Well, it appears that there will not just be a gala for the queen’s birthday, but a masked ball two weeks later as well.” Lady Margaret shook her head. “Rupert has never done something like this before.”
“Rupert has never wanted a houseguest to get married so badly,” Lord Richard remarked from behind the paper. “Having ties to the Danelaw’s navy is nothing to sneeze at, and the princesses are too young for Christian.”
“I’d best not go,” Poppy said. “Seeing me will only remind everyone of Alfred, and Queen Edith detests gambling besides.”
Her hosts protested, but Poppy was adamant. Upstairs, Marianne continued to pester Poppy. Poppy lay across the other girl’s bed, knitting something pale blue and fuzzy.
“Don’t be a goose, Poppy, you must come.” Marianne was posing in front of the mirror, sucking in her cheeks and batting her eyelashes. “What is that you’re making now? Giant garters to go with the giant socks?”
“Those socks turned out beautifully, thank you very much,” Poppy retorted. “Since you kept mocking them, I intend to give them to your mother at the holidays. This is a scarf.”
“Ooh, for Christian?”
“For you, actually, since you mocked the bed socks,” Poppy said dryly. She sat up and held the coiled blue thing against Marianne’s neck. “Not with that gown, of course,” she said. “It will hang down in a long curl. You’ll love it, especially with your dark blue gown.”
A heavy sigh preceded the maid, Ellen, as she came in. “I wish I had more than one gown,” she muttered.
“You do,” Poppy said shortly. “I’ve seen them.”
Ellen gave her a baleful look. “Not nice ones.”
Poppy gave up and turned her attention to her knitting. Ellen seemed to know that Mrs. Hanks would never fire her, and she used it as an excuse to address Poppy and Marianne like she was a rather depressing social acquaintance. She wasn’t stupid, though, and was respectful enough whenever an adult was nearby.
“Her Ladyship says that the dressmaker will be here soon to discuss your new gowns, Lady Marianne,” Ellen said. “The princess, too, if she likes.” Her sour tone made it clear that she thought Poppy was a fool for not wanting a new ball gown.
Ellen stomped about the room, loudly tidying up and rearranging chairs. “Eavesdropping,” Poppy thought, as Marianne pored over her collection of magazines, looking for just the right gown.
“I want something spectacular for the masked ball,” she said to Poppy. “That’s going to be the really grand affair. But you’ll need at least one new gown: my birthday ball will be right between the two royal parties!” She paused. “I hope everyone won’t be too busy to come to my birthday.”
“Of course I’ll come to that,” Poppy reassured Marianne. “Everyone will! I just don’t know about the masquerade at the palace.”
“You really should attend,” Lady Margaret said, coming into the room.
“I’m not even sure that I was invited,” Poppy said, looking for an excuse to get out of the royal celebrations once and for all. “If it was for the Seadown family… Invitations have come specifically for me in the past.” She smiled inwardly, thinking that she had hit on the perfect answer.
“Actually, what it said was that