Princess of the Midnight Ball - Jessica Day George [15]
“But the dancing,” Rose said, and was racked with a coughing fit that lasted several minutes. When it was over, she didn’t even have the strength to keep her eyes open, but lay on the pillow and merely listened as Dr. Kelling told her that under no circumstances was she to leave her bed, let alone dance.
“Lily can sit beside your father and play hostess this evening,” Dr. Kelling said kindly, patting Rose’s white hand where it lay on the coverlet. “And for the next several nights. But don’t worry, I’m sure that she will give you back your place as soon as you are well.”
“Of course I will,” Lily said. But she didn’t even pretend to be cheerful.
“I’m sure that, in light of your illness, your father will cancel the dancing this evening,” Dr. Kelling said, “if it will distress you to know that your sisters are making merry while you lie ill in bed.”
“Thank you, Dr. Kelling,” Rose murmured. “I’ll sleep now.”
“Good girl.” He stroked her damp hair. “I’ll tell your father the news and send the orders to the kitchens.” Then he leveled his gaze at Jonquil and Lily. “You may want to sleep elsewhere, to prevent yourselves from catching Rose’s chill. And try to bar the little ones from the sickroom as well. If all twelve of you fall ill, it will qualify as an epidemic.”
Lily and Jonquil smiled dutifully at the joke, and Lily saw him to the door of the room. “Thank you, Dr. Kelling,” she said. As soon as she had closed the door behind him, she ran back to Rose’s bed and looked down at her sister with anxiety written large on her face. “Rose? Are you still awake?”
“Yes,” Rose said, and coughed some more. “Fool gardener, leaping out of the shrubbery and frightening people.”
“Rose,” Lily said urgently. “What are we to do? About the ball?”
Dr. Kelling had misunderstood Rose when she asked about the dancing. She was not worried about the state dinner, or the dancing that usually followed. She was worried about what came after: the Midnight Ball. King Gregor had no control over that. It would not be canceled due to illness. Death alone could free a soul from the Midnight Ball, as the girls knew all too well.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Rose said, and a tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and ran down to wet her pillow. “If I don’t go, he’ll be so angry.” She rolled onto her side and pulled the blankets over her head again.
The other eleven princesses dressed for dinner and sat at the long table with their father and the three visiting ambassadors. The girls were nervous and gloomy all night, and King Gregor did indeed cancel the dancing that evening. The sisters kissed their father good night at nine and went upstairs to Rose. Lily helped her sit up and drink a cup of chamomile tea, made with herbs that grew in their own garden. Jonquil peeled two oranges and fed them to Rose one segment at a time.
And then, at eleven o’clock, Lily and Jonquil helped Rose out of bed. They washed her face and applied rouge to her pale cheeks and lips. They combed her long golden-brown hair and put it up in an elegant knot atop her head, adorning it with a tiara of pearls and garnets. Then they helped her into the yellow dress and the new dancing slippers.
The eldest princess could barely walk. She was near delirious with fever and racked by coughing spells that left her breathless and teary-eyed. Lily and Jonquil had to support her all the way to the Midnight Ball.
When Maria, their chief maid, came to wake the three eldest princesses the next morning, she found Rose’s yellow ball gown on the floor beside her bed, and Queen Maude’s pearl-and-garnet jewelry set lying on the bedside table. Rose was insensible with fever, raving about trees of silver and boats of gold crossing a lake of shadows. The maid thought that Rose had, in her delirium, attempted to dress for dinner. Maria woke the other