Becoming A Queen.

8

The sound of carriage wheels thundered along the quiet road. Self consciously, Miranda wiped her sweaty palms on her threadbare skirt. Today more than ever the rough cotton reminded her of her social position.

She turned to look into the shop, worried that she had left anything behind.
Next to her Sofia was doing little skips in one spot. The half an hour spent brushing her hair was nearly pointless with all the movement.
Miranda hoped Sofia would behave calmly and quietly.

Her own nervous energy made her open her canvas bag to double check that the Kings slippers and Princess Amber's boots were in there.

The carriage came closer, rounding the corner followed by a horde of curious children. Miranda's heart clenched and released a tumble of featherlight flutters in her middle.
In half an hour she would be in the same room as him again.
Her lips burned with the memory of his kiss a few hours earlier.
More than anything she longed to be with him.

Already she was dreading the return this afternoon. There was a shameful part of her that had spent sleepless nights making up scenarios of how the future would look like. But she didn't know what he wanted. He had said he loved her, but that was hardly a promise. Miranda already knew her pride and honour would not allow him to make her his mistress, so in reality, there was no chance of her relationship with King Roland to develop beyond this initial rush of attraction.

Finally, the carriage came to a halt in front of them. Miranda took a last look at her workshop to see that she had everything she needed before she locked up and allowed Alfred to hand her into the carriage after Sofia.

The journey seemed endless. A tight knot was forming in Miranda's middle, like a coil ready to spring. She was looking forward to seeing the man she had fallen in love with, but at the same time worried that his declaration of love had been just a whim. Sofia thankfully didn't notice her mother's nerves. She was too busy chatting as usual.

They entered the palace grounds and Sofia felt the need to comment on every shrub they passed, admiring the colours of the flowers and the surroundings with an enthusiasm typical of a small child. For once, Sofia's chatter annoyed Miranda. She wished her daughter would just be quiet. Just this once. But this was typical of Sofia when she was nervous, and Miranda didn't want to let her child suffer for her own emotional turmoil.

The carriage pulled up in front of the main steps and Sofia Awwed at the grandeur of the building and the beauty of everything she saw.

"Imagine living here..." Sofia sighed.

Miranda chuckled softly. The same thought had crossed her mind, but for completely different reasons. Sofia wanted the glamour and the surroundings, Miranda only wanted the man she knew was inside.

Politely Alfred handed them down from the carriage, addressing Miranda oddly as "My Lady", as she took his hand. She chose not to comment on it.

When she lifted her eyes, she was surprised to see several footmen and servants lining the front stairs.

And even weirder, they all bowed, curtsied and called her "My Lady" as they passed.

Surely a shoemaker was no Lady?

At the door, the elderly servant Baileywck greeted them in the same manner.

"Miss Sofia, Lady Miranda," He bowed before leading them into the house.

"Why is everybody saying Lady?" Sofia asked, mirroring Miranda's own confusion.

"His Majesty has requested that you are received with the utmost respect on your arrival," Baileywick smiled at Sofia.

"Because Mom made his shoes?" Sofia asked.

Baileywick sent Miranda an amused grin.

"Something like that..." He smiled.