Wisdom to giggling whenever they uttered it. Easy for them to laugh; they already knew the rules, and doubtless had behaved perfectly all their lives.
"Don't fret." Ben patted Trudy. "I know you'll instinctively do it right ... Let's try this on, shall we?" She helped Trudy out of her simple homespun and slipped the gown, pins yet in it, over her head. "Child, you should be a seamstress ... It fits to perfection."
Trudy's blush scorched her face. "But it's—begging your pardon—it's too low."
Ben, turning Trudy this way and that in the swaying coach, laughed out loud. "I should say not! The ducal court will be so busy admiring your decolletage that they shan't notice you're the entirety of our staff. Doesn't she look grand, Dizzy? Granddaughter?"
"It's fine," Wisdom answered, never taking her eyes from the wheat fields.
Nonna Ben shot Wisdom a very ungrandmotherly glare before helping Trudy out of the gown. "Thank goodness Lady Modesty is so portly; had we time enough, we could fashion the leftover material into a nice wrap. Or perhaps a set of curtains."
Trudy couldn't help smiling. Nonna Ben was so sweet to pretend she looked nice when it was clear she didn't—clear to Trudy, anyway, and obviously clear to the princess.
"That blue with your hair, and those earrings ... are they a gift from a beau? I would say you're a lucky girl to have such a generous suitor, but really he's the lucky one, having a sweetheart as pretty as you."
Bent over her stitching, Trudy beamed to herself. Nonna Ben was wrong: it was she who was the lucky one—the luckiest girl in the world—to have a beau as wonderful and perfect as Tips. It was almost as if Tips had sight himself, to send her these earrings so fortuitously. They did look lovely with the dress, and no one in Froglock would accuse her of putting on airs, for no one in Froglock knew her station ... No one, that is, but Tips. They'd left Bacio so quickly that she'd barely had time to scribble a note for the next mail rider—a note Tips probably would not receive until after she'd arrived, not at the pace this carriage was moving. Never in her life had she traveled so fast, or so far—and to what a glorious destination!
Escoffier, asleep beside her, stretched his long black legs, and absently Trudy stroked the cat. Soon, soon, she'd see him. Soon she'd be with Tips again. Anticipation bubbled in her chest like a fountain.
The Imperial Encyclopedia of Lax
8 TH EDITION
Printed in the Capital City of Rigorus
by Hazelnut & Filbert, Publishers to the Crown
FORTITUDE OF BACIO
No birth record exists of Fortitude of Bacio, who was born soon after her mother's arrival in Alpsburg; the woman perished of infective fever ten years later. Fortitude remained in Bacio until Year 28 of the reign of Rüdiger IV, when a royal party traveling from Montagne halted there after the entourage was decimated by food poisoning, an event immortalized in the comic ballad "Pass the Bucket, Queenie!" Desperate for assistance en route to the wedding of her granddaughter to the Duke of Farina, and apparently unaware of the girl's supposed foresight, the queen mother of Montagne offered Fortitude a position as lady-in-waiting. In agreeing to serve attendance—a responsibility for which the girl had no training whatsoever beyond a childhood spent as a kitchen wench, and certainly no breeding—Fortitude of Bacio unwittingly tendered herself as yet another catalyst in the great turbulence about to reshape the Empire of Lax. Controversy continues to surround the girl's preternatural abilities, fanned by recent analysis (see, for example,
The Imperial Gastric and Psychiatric Journal of Ajar,
v. 84ff). Regardless, the arrival of Fortitude in the city of Froglock, along with Emperor Rüdiger IV Princess Wisdom of Montagne, and the young swordsman Tomas Müller with his impresario Felis el Gato, would play a critical role in the forthcoming upheaval of Wisdom's Kiss, and it may be stated without
"Don't fret." Ben patted Trudy. "I know you'll instinctively do it right ... Let's try this on, shall we?" She helped Trudy out of her simple homespun and slipped the gown, pins yet in it, over her head. "Child, you should be a seamstress ... It fits to perfection."
Trudy's blush scorched her face. "But it's—begging your pardon—it's too low."
Ben, turning Trudy this way and that in the swaying coach, laughed out loud. "I should say not! The ducal court will be so busy admiring your decolletage that they shan't notice you're the entirety of our staff. Doesn't she look grand, Dizzy? Granddaughter?"
"It's fine," Wisdom answered, never taking her eyes from the wheat fields.
Nonna Ben shot Wisdom a very ungrandmotherly glare before helping Trudy out of the gown. "Thank goodness Lady Modesty is so portly; had we time enough, we could fashion the leftover material into a nice wrap. Or perhaps a set of curtains."
Trudy couldn't help smiling. Nonna Ben was so sweet to pretend she looked nice when it was clear she didn't—clear to Trudy, anyway, and obviously clear to the princess.
"That blue with your hair, and those earrings ... are they a gift from a beau? I would say you're a lucky girl to have such a generous suitor, but really he's the lucky one, having a sweetheart as pretty as you."
Bent over her stitching, Trudy beamed to herself. Nonna Ben was wrong: it was she who was the lucky one—the luckiest girl in the world—to have a beau as wonderful and perfect as Tips. It was almost as if Tips had sight himself, to send her these earrings so fortuitously. They did look lovely with the dress, and no one in Froglock would accuse her of putting on airs, for no one in Froglock knew her station ... No one, that is, but Tips. They'd left Bacio so quickly that she'd barely had time to scribble a note for the next mail rider—a note Tips probably would not receive until after she'd arrived, not at the pace this carriage was moving. Never in her life had she traveled so fast, or so far—and to what a glorious destination!
Escoffier, asleep beside her, stretched his long black legs, and absently Trudy stroked the cat. Soon, soon, she'd see him. Soon she'd be with Tips again. Anticipation bubbled in her chest like a fountain.
The Imperial Encyclopedia of Lax
8 TH EDITION
Printed in the Capital City of Rigorus
by Hazelnut & Filbert, Publishers to the Crown
FORTITUDE OF BACIO
No birth record exists of Fortitude of Bacio, who was born soon after her mother's arrival in Alpsburg; the woman perished of infective fever ten years later. Fortitude remained in Bacio until Year 28 of the reign of Rüdiger IV, when a royal party traveling from Montagne halted there after the entourage was decimated by food poisoning, an event immortalized in the comic ballad "Pass the Bucket, Queenie!" Desperate for assistance en route to the wedding of her granddaughter to the Duke of Farina, and apparently unaware of the girl's supposed foresight, the queen mother of Montagne offered Fortitude a position as lady-in-waiting. In agreeing to serve attendance—a responsibility for which the girl had no training whatsoever beyond a childhood spent as a kitchen wench, and certainly no breeding—Fortitude of Bacio unwittingly tendered herself as yet another catalyst in the great turbulence about to reshape the Empire of Lax. Controversy continues to surround the girl's preternatural abilities, fanned by recent analysis (see, for example,
The Imperial Gastric and Psychiatric Journal of Ajar,
v. 84ff). Regardless, the arrival of Fortitude in the city of Froglock, along with Emperor Rüdiger IV Princess Wisdom of Montagne, and the young swordsman Tomas Müller with his impresario Felis el Gato, would play a critical role in the forthcoming upheaval of Wisdom's Kiss, and it may be stated without
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