‘I don’t mean to argue, Mama, but a crown doesn’t really do much of anything. Just sits on one’s head, quite useless. Oh, I suppose it sparkles.’
‘Focus, child. Don’t you see? The King intended to ask for your hand in marriage. Tonight!’
Mary Ann gasped, and Cath felt like her own feigned surprise was a bit sluggish. ‘Why, what an absurd suggestion,’ she said, chuckling. ‘The King? Certainly not.’
The Marquess awkwardly cleared his throat, startling her mother, who spun to him with flapping arms. ‘Yes, yes, we’re done with you, darling,’ she said. ‘Go on to bed. We need to have a mother-to-daughter chat.’
Her father looked grateful to be sent away. Dark circles were beneath his eyes as he leaned over Cath and placed a kiss on the top of her head. ‘I’m glad you’re safe.’
‘Goodnight, Papa.’
Mary Ann curtsied to him as he left, then cast an excited smile in Cath’s direction. ‘I’ll just . . . bring up some tea?’ she suggested. ‘To calm everyone’s nerves.’
‘Thank you, Mary Ann,’ said the Marchioness. She waited until she and Cath were alone before taking Cath’s hands into both of hers. ‘My dear, sweet, stupid child,’ she started, and Cath’s shoulders tensed in defiance. ‘It is not absurd at all. The King means to make you his bride. Now, I am overjoyed that you made it home safely, but that doesn’t excuse your absence, not on such an occasion as this. Where were you?’
Memories of chocolate caramels and unlaced corsets flashed through Catherine’s mind.
She blinked, all innocence. ‘As I said, I was feeling poorly and thought I should leave so as not to cause a scene. I didn’t want to interrupt the lovely time you and Papa seemed to be having, so I took one of the royal carriages. Besides, I think you’re mistaken about the King.’
Her mother’s face turned red as a cabbage. ‘I am not mistaken, you doltish girl. You should be engaged by now.’
‘But His Majesty has never shown me any preference. Well, other than for my baking. But even if he had, we’ve had no courtship. No time to—’
‘He is the King! What need does he have of courtship? He asks and you say yes, that is all the courtship required.’ She heaved an exhausted sigh. ‘Or, it would have been. Now that you disappeared at the most inopportune moment, who knows what’s to become of his affections? He could be jilted – his attachment may be permanently severed!’
Catherine pursed her lips, trying to disguise the influx of hope beneath a veil of concern. ‘If the King wished to request my hand in marriage, I should hope his attachment wouldn’t be so flimsy as that. And I’m still not convinced of his intentions.’
‘Oh, he very much intended. And he had better still intend, or you will be confined to this room until you learn when it is and is not appropriate to leave a ball!’ She hesitated. ‘Wild, murderous beasts notwithstanding. You must fix this, Catherine!’
‘What do you expect me to do?’
‘I expect you to apologize for leaving the gala prematurely. I expect you to be around the next time a man makes you an offer that will make you a queen. We must think of some way to ensure we haven’t lost his good graces. Something to keep him from changing his mind, not when we were so close!’
‘But what if I don’t . . .’ She trailed off, curling her knees up to her chest.
‘What if you don’t what? Spit it out, child.’
She gulped. Hesitated. Sagged. ‘What if I don’t see His Majesty for a while? We can’t very well call on the King, and we have no invitations, do we?’
Her mother smugly tilted her nose up. ‘In fact, we do have an invitation. We have been asked to afternoon tea in the castle gardens in three days’ time.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘I know! You shall bring His Majesty a gift! That will be the perfect excuse to approach him. He is fond of your sweets.’ She stood and took to pacing the room, the light from the lamp casting a restless shadow over the walls. ‘What do you think he’d like?’
‘Anything, I suppose.’
‘Why are you being difficult?’
Cath shrugged. ‘I don’t mean to be, Mama. What about those rose macarons I mentioned?’
‘Yes, yes, perfect! What are rose macarons?’
Cath prepared an explanation, but her mother was already waving off the question. ‘Never mind, I’m sure they’ll be fine. Now, try to get some sleep. You know you plump up when you’re not sleeping well.’ Fluttering her arms, she bustled out of the bedroom, nearly crashing into Mary Ann’s tea tray on the way out.
After the Marchioness had gone, Mary Ann slipped inside and shut the door with her foot. She turned her wide eyes on Catherine and abandoned the tray on the nightstand. ‘Can it be true, Catherine?’
Catherine collapsed back on to her pillows. ‘I don’t wish to believe it, either. A Jabberwock! In Hearts! The attack must have been awful.’
Mary Ann froze, her thoughts tripping over the topic. ‘Oh yes. It was awful. It happened so fast – I barely caught sight of the beast as it was flying away with one courtier in each of its big, gangly claws . . .’ She grimaced. ‘No one knew what to do. The ballroom was in chaos, everyone wanting to flee but too afraid to go outside. Then the Joker showed up out of nowhere – he’s rather uncanny, don’t you think? – and insisted that the King have everyone gather together in the great hall until it was deemed safe to leave. That’s when we realized you were missing, and the Joker tried to calm Mama. He told her that he’d seen a girl in a red gown get into a carriage and he was sure you were safe, but we couldn’t send a messenger, and we were stuck inside for hours . . .’ Her face pinched with worry. ‘I’m so glad you’re all right.’