Princess of Glass - Jessica Day George [56]
None was forthcoming, however.
“Yes, I know why you did it,” Poppy said quietly. “But you realize now that you need help, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Ellen said, her voice still small. “But how? I have to attend the masquerade. I have to marry Prince Christian.”
“Oh do you?” Now a snap came to Poppy’s voice. “Whether or not he wants to marry you?”
“I have to,” Ellen said again. And then, to her embarrassment, she burst into noisy sobs. Her nose started to run, and she clutched the blankets to her face. “I have to.”
If she didn’t marry Christian, what would she do? She had to get away from Seadown House, away from being a maid. Away from Castleraugh, where everyone knew her family’s shame.
“Stop that at once,” Poppy said. But she didn’t sound angry, more like uncomfortable. “I have eleven sisters, you know. I don’t exactly enjoy watching girlish hysterics.” The princess got to her feet. “Besides, blubbing isn’t going to get you out of this. But I will!” Poppy headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Ellen raised her face from the blankets.
“I’m going to tell Roger and Lord Richard everything you’ve just told me,” she said briskly. She opened the door, and they heard the clock strike two. “Oh, blast! No, first I’m going to help Marianne say good-bye to her guests, then I’m going to tell Roger and Lord Richard everything you told me.” Poppy swept out, breathtaking in her silver and violet gown.
After she was gone, Ellen reflected that, no matter how abrupt and strange the girl could be, Poppy would never need the Corley’s magic to help her snare a prince, or anyone else she wanted. She had the bearing of a princess, through and through, no matter the situation.
More tears leaked out of Ellen’s eyes, and she lay back and sniffled. Then she fumbled a handkerchief out from under her pillow and tried to wipe off her face. Poppy had said that Roger was going to help, and she didn’t want him to see her looking all red and puffy.
Rejected
Christian felt like he was just waking from a long sleep. Something strange was afoot, but no one would tell him what. Lady Margaret still snapped at everyone, but Marianne was in better spirits and thoroughly enjoyed the rest of her ball. Christian was quite pleased about this, and danced with her twice after Lady Ella left.
But Poppy and Roger were missing, and Marianne would only hint that they were “setting things to rights.” Christian just hoped that they weren’t planning on doing something to humiliate poor Lady Ella for copying Poppy’s and Marianne’s gowns. It was rude of her to do it, but she was a nice girl and he didn’t want to see her completely undone by her folly.
Especially if he was going to marry her.
The thought stopped him cold.
He was standing near the punch bowl, having a drink with Marianne and a few other friends, and he froze with his glass halfway to his lips. Now where had that sudden conviction come from? He didn’t want to get married!
But his head was suddenly filled with visions of Lady Ella meeting his parents, walking down the aisle of the family chapel in a white gown … He could picture it all: what he was wearing, what she was wearing, the music that was playing, his little sisters as bridesmaids. What a queer thing!
“Are you all right?” Dickon Thwaite nudged his arm, and Christian slopped punch over his wrist. “Oops, sorry!” Dickon passed him his handkerchief.
“I just had a sudden … vision? Daydream?” Christian shook his head. He’d thought the muzziness was leaving him, but here it was back again!
“About whom?” Dickon waggled his eyebrows. “Lady Ella? Of course it was, you sly dog!” He lowered his voice. “And don’t think we aren’t all having the same daydreams!”
Marianne was standing right next to Christian, talking to another young woman. But she turned at Dickon’s words, and Christian braced himself for her to start screaming at the younger Thwaite brother. She, and all the other ladies except Poppy, had been quite volatile about any mention of Lady Ella.
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