Armand’s First Letter. Amelia’s First Letter.
27 February 1023, Cumbrian Embassy, Toulouse
My dearest cousin Armand,
I apologize for the lateness of this letter, but the last several weeks have been fraught, and perhaps I am fortunate to be writing to you at all.
In my last, I dimly recall wishing that I could give a number of the ladies of the court a good ducking in a muddy Cumbrian duck pond; but instead it is I who received the ducking, I and Princess Beatrice, at the hands of your guild. By which I mean the Provençese Former’s Guild, not your step-father’s establishment.
Late last month the Princess was presented with a quite marvelous floating carriage, designed and formed by the Guilde du Thaumaturgie with the aid of the best carriage maker in Toulouse. Truly, Armand, it was a thing of beauty inside and out. It was given to her in an elaborate ceremony at the palace, at the end of which the King handed her inside, joined her, and went off on a jaunt around the city, accompanied two matched grays at the front, the coachman on top, two footman at the back, and a bevy of mounted soldiers fore and aft.
Princes Beatrice was delighted. “Quite the easiest ride conceivable,” she said, and nothing would do, despite the continuing frostiness of the weather, than to go on excursions to all the notable spots in the vicinity of Toulouse. The King often being busy, I was daily summoned to attend upon the Princess.
It was not an arduous duty. The carriage, floating as it was, was so far beyond well-sprung as to be in quite another land altogether; and as the Guild had supplied the seats with warming blocks the Princess was quite comfortable with her traveling rugs. (I, of course, would have been comfortable in any case. A follower of Johannes rarely gets chilled. Last month, I would have said “never”.) And though the Princess would often invite one or another of the ladies of the court to join us, this is the sweetest thing of all: it was often just the two of us. I found that restful, and am I sure the Princess did as well.
One day when we were alone in the carriage and could speak freely, Beatrice said to me, “You are so reserved, Mrs. Archer.”
“I, your highness? How so?”
“You speak when spoken to,” she said, “you rarely volunteer anything, you never ask for anything, and you are always watching. I gather it makes the other ladies of the court rather nervous.”
“Oh, as to that…” I began.
“Yes?”
“I fear that if I made a habit of volunteering what I was thinking, your highness, the other ladies of the court would be outraged rather than nervous.” I said. “And as for ‘asking for things’, have you any idea how many of the ladies of the court have approached me and promised me the moon if only I would put a bee in your ear? Your father didn’t throw us together so that I could make use of you.”
The Princess glanced at me oddly. “You think not?” she said.
“I hope not. For if so His Majesty is doomed to disappointment, and I should hate to be disobedient to the crown.”
“Truly?” she said with a sharp look.
I shrugged. “Judge for yourself.”
“Very well.” There was a pause; and then she then she said, “And yet you maintain your reserve even when we are alone.”
“Do I?” I was somewhat taken aback, Armand. “I suppose I do. After the unpleasantness last November I haven’t known—”
We came to a bridge over the Garonne river as I was speaking; and near the midpoint the carriage gave a lurch and a shudder. There was hideous tearing noise, and I had a confused impression of seeing the roof of the carriage shooting into the bright white sky as the horses stumbled, and with a tilt and a heave the whole affair tumbled over the side and into the river, pulling the screaming horses after it.
The Princess and I held on to each other (for we were seated side-by-side) as we hit the water. The Garonne is deep there, fortunately, and the bridge low enough that we were not injured in the fall. What remained of the carriage broke into several large pieces, and though the piece to which we clung rode so low that we got a thorough wetting we were never in danger of drowning. We came to rest at last on the bank some distance below the bridge, after which I did my best to warm myself and the Princess up while we waited for the guardsmen to come to our rescue.
And here I will note that the Fleuve de Johannes is not proof against a sudden ducking into frigid water; for both the Princess and I have spent the last two weeks shaking with ague and weary with catarrh.
Today I was able to wait upon the Princess by her bedside, for she was more greatly afflicted than I, and she said to me, “Just before we fell into the river, you were speaking of the unpleasantness of last November.”
“I am surprised you remember that, your highness.”
“I have thought of little else. Finish your thought, if you please.”
I shrugged. “I was saying that I haven’t known how to speak to you. We had been on much easier terms, but after the unpleasantness you seemed so remote.”
“I?”
“Truly, your highness.”
She lay back on her pillows and regarded the ceiling.
“I suppose I have,” she said, “for surely I haven’t known how to speak to you either.” She turned her head to look at me, sitting by the bed. “Truly, you bear me no ill will?”
“Truly, your highness.”
She sniffled in a most unladylike way, if it is not lèse-majesté to say so, and then exclaimed, “Oh, Amelia, do please call me Beatrice? I cannot bear it when you sound like the other ladies.”
“Just as you like, Beatrice,” I said; and I meant it.
Your reinstated cousin,
Amelia
____
Photo by Josie Weiss on Unsplash
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