slightest trembling or deference like the silly ninnies all do, or he will chew you up and spit you out. I always speak up to him—when their graces are not about—and so we get on famously.”
“But, Princess Isabella, he is your brother. I could never—”
“Oh, a pox on it all—on him! He gets all the fun things to do, the wild days and nights. I wish I were a man. Would it not be wonderful?”
“Aye. I had thought on that more than once. Freedom—”
“But, dearest, that is just why we have our secret society. It is our way to freedom and a great deal of fun. Just wait and see. Let them preach fond obedience and meek compliance and marry us off to lords we have never seen and care not for!”
“Oh,” Joan sat up straight, her hands nervously smoothing the green, shimmery sendal over her knees. “Then you are to marry?”
“Of course. His Grace, my father, has eternal plans for me, for Joanna, probably for Mary, too, already, and she is but newborn. And your blood is blue Plantagenet, too, through our grandsire, of course. They will have you promised in marriage somewhere soon enough, so take your freedoms while you can,
ma chérie.
”
“But they could not possibly have plans for me. I have just arrived. I have met no one, that is, only one man, and I do not even know his name.”
“Indeed?” Isabella swung her petite foot jerkily and her silk slipper bounced and swayed where it clung tenaciously to her toes. “If you favor him, flirt with him. I tell you true, mistress, it is best to take your pleasures as you find them. We all do, though, of course, we are careful to never, never be caught at it. You must describe this one to me and mayhap I can guess who he is. And if he is someone else’s knight, oh, will that not be a delightful start for you?”
The description of the wonderful, angry, and muddy man crowded to Joan’s lips along with a hundred questions, but she read well by the princess’ fidgeting that her inquiries would have to wait. Surely, even if she joined the princess’s secret little clique, she could still keep her own heart intact and do things her own way. She had no intention of being forced to be sweet and charming to anyone she did not favor. Perhaps if her brother Edmund’s quick-eyed friend Lyle Wingfield were about, she could practice a bit on him to suit her new acquaintances. Certainly she had no plans of ever letting anyone know how the fascinating man on the big black horse yesterday had sent her heart fluttering clear down to the pit of her stomach!
“Joan. Joan! I said,
ma chérie,
do you promise? Will you keep it secret—the society and the motto?”
“Oh, aye, forgive me, Your Grace. Aye, of course. I would so much like to be your friend.”
“And the others?”
“Aye.”
“Then, here it is. We bend like this and whisper in the ear of any of our dearest friends,
‘Suis-je belle?’
—Am I not fair?”
“
‘Suis-je belle?’
Am I not fair?”
“
Oui,
Joan, for are we not all young and fair and in love with love? Is it not perfect? You especially are so fair—a perfect Plantagenet. Indeed, you favor my sister and me greatly, and wait until you see the rest of the Plantagenets. I tell you, dearest Joan, you could easily be one of us!”
Joan felt her cheeks flush at the astounding compliment, and a rush of affection for this sweet, charming girl flooded her.
“Suis-je belle?”
Indeed, why not? Fun, friends, freedom to help forget lost Liddell and Mother’s strange parting words. As long as Isabella’s predictions of some arranged marriage did not come true for a long time, surely she could be happy here. Mayhap she should just ask old Morcar about her future and settle Isabella’s foolish predictions that way.
“Your Grace, is—are you—betrothed to be wed?” Joan ventured and saw she had earned the maid’s immediate attention as well as a frown which furrowed her high, white brow above the pale blue eyes.
“Oh, aye, indeed.
“But, Princess Isabella, he is your brother. I could never—”
“Oh, a pox on it all—on him! He gets all the fun things to do, the wild days and nights. I wish I were a man. Would it not be wonderful?”
“Aye. I had thought on that more than once. Freedom—”
“But, dearest, that is just why we have our secret society. It is our way to freedom and a great deal of fun. Just wait and see. Let them preach fond obedience and meek compliance and marry us off to lords we have never seen and care not for!”
“Oh,” Joan sat up straight, her hands nervously smoothing the green, shimmery sendal over her knees. “Then you are to marry?”
“Of course. His Grace, my father, has eternal plans for me, for Joanna, probably for Mary, too, already, and she is but newborn. And your blood is blue Plantagenet, too, through our grandsire, of course. They will have you promised in marriage somewhere soon enough, so take your freedoms while you can,
ma chérie.
”
“But they could not possibly have plans for me. I have just arrived. I have met no one, that is, only one man, and I do not even know his name.”
“Indeed?” Isabella swung her petite foot jerkily and her silk slipper bounced and swayed where it clung tenaciously to her toes. “If you favor him, flirt with him. I tell you true, mistress, it is best to take your pleasures as you find them. We all do, though, of course, we are careful to never, never be caught at it. You must describe this one to me and mayhap I can guess who he is. And if he is someone else’s knight, oh, will that not be a delightful start for you?”
The description of the wonderful, angry, and muddy man crowded to Joan’s lips along with a hundred questions, but she read well by the princess’ fidgeting that her inquiries would have to wait. Surely, even if she joined the princess’s secret little clique, she could still keep her own heart intact and do things her own way. She had no intention of being forced to be sweet and charming to anyone she did not favor. Perhaps if her brother Edmund’s quick-eyed friend Lyle Wingfield were about, she could practice a bit on him to suit her new acquaintances. Certainly she had no plans of ever letting anyone know how the fascinating man on the big black horse yesterday had sent her heart fluttering clear down to the pit of her stomach!
“Joan. Joan! I said,
ma chérie,
do you promise? Will you keep it secret—the society and the motto?”
“Oh, aye, forgive me, Your Grace. Aye, of course. I would so much like to be your friend.”
“And the others?”
“Aye.”
“Then, here it is. We bend like this and whisper in the ear of any of our dearest friends,
‘Suis-je belle?’
—Am I not fair?”
“
‘Suis-je belle?’
Am I not fair?”
“
Oui,
Joan, for are we not all young and fair and in love with love? Is it not perfect? You especially are so fair—a perfect Plantagenet. Indeed, you favor my sister and me greatly, and wait until you see the rest of the Plantagenets. I tell you, dearest Joan, you could easily be one of us!”
Joan felt her cheeks flush at the astounding compliment, and a rush of affection for this sweet, charming girl flooded her.
“Suis-je belle?”
Indeed, why not? Fun, friends, freedom to help forget lost Liddell and Mother’s strange parting words. As long as Isabella’s predictions of some arranged marriage did not come true for a long time, surely she could be happy here. Mayhap she should just ask old Morcar about her future and settle Isabella’s foolish predictions that way.
“Your Grace, is—are you—betrothed to be wed?” Joan ventured and saw she had earned the maid’s immediate attention as well as a frown which furrowed her high, white brow above the pale blue eyes.
“Oh, aye, indeed.
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