The Mice in the Kitchen

Chapter 10

The last time Herta had travelled in the calash was the day her father had been buried. From that day on, even the cook could do things she wasn't allowed to, like going to the market or to run errands for her mistress.

So, today, she tried to enjoy this rare chance as much as she could, for who knew when she would be given this opportunity again. And she decided not to spend the trip worrying about the uncertainties or mysteries in relation to the palace, but to admire the houses, the streets and the people who were going from one place to another or simply taking a peaceful walk around the town. One of those people, a young girl Herta had gone to private classes with –like the other daughters of families who could not afford to hire their own governesses–, looked at her with surprise, which soon turned to disdain. Her father had always concealed her true origin: the result of an affair with one of the maids. Herta's mother had died giving birth to her and he had made everyone believe she was the orphan daughter of some relatives and had been adopted by him and his wife. What it had cost him to make Cecilia agree to play along with that lie was something Herta would never really know, but a former servant of the house had told her that her father always intended to raise her as his daughter. And until he passed away, she was never actually aware of how much he had controlled and held his two other daughters and wife back so that she could have a, more or less, peaceful and happy childhood and youth, feeling part of the family.

Now, everything had changed. Suddenly, she no longer had a family or a home. And her stepmother and half sisters –at whose service she now was– never ceased to insist that her current situation was just what it should always have been.

Cecilia did not speak a word to her during the whole time they were in the calash, so that when they met with the duchess of Bosfor in her chamber she knew just as little about the reason for this visit as the day before.

Herta felt very uncomfortable while her mistress's sister moved around her, observing her meticulously.

'I don't recall her being so blonde.'

'It's turned lighter with the years. Quite the contrary to Gloria's hair. She's practically a brunette now. I think that's one of the reasons why she dislikes her so much,' Cecilia added with a laugh. 'My poor girl can barely stand the sight of her.'

Hate surfaced to the eyes of her father's wife. Herta thought about the two mice. She was wondering whether they had kept her promise, whether they were here with her, somewhere inside this huge palace. They were her only reason not to run away from that place that very instant. Away from so much contempt and unfair rancor. For them, she would endure it a bit longer. She didn't know how much longer –perhaps until she knew whether she could be of any help or if they had found out how to break the spell.

Suddenly, fear of the duchess, of what she was capable of, overcame her.

'She's not too ugly... She has a good figure,' the duchess said, completely ignoring the insubstantial comments about her niece's hatred. The interest she felt in relation to her sister's family and their idiosyncrasies was proportional to her affection for them, and she only sought their company when, as was the case, they could bring her some kind of benefit. Fortunately for Wilhelmina, her superior condition and intelligence had rarely put her in the need to.

'I'm sure you can do something with her.'

'Hmmm. Maybe.'

'Do you want me to leave her here?'

'Oh, no, no. I wouldn't want her to be seen by the prince before the ball. I'll send... Or better, I'll give you the dress and the jewels I want her to wear tomorrow. I think you can take care of that yourself, can't you?'