Page 18 of A Cake of Cherries and Charm

“You ought to know about them so you can avoid becoming entangled in them,” she’d added. More than anything, though, Rosie hoped that in time, Natalie might even become a friend.

Rosie desperately wanted a friend.

She had her sister, though, she scolded herself, and her mother, who had looked even more terrified when Natalie left than when she’d arrived. Rosie didn’t need any new friends.

She was forced to admit to herself over the course of the next few days, however, that she should like very much to have some. Snow was always busy now with the queen or with Frederick, and their mother refused to stir from her room. And despite several failed attempts, Rosie didn’t even get the chance to tell Snow about her encounter with the troll, as Snow was literally gone every morning from the time Rosie woke up until after Rosie went to bed.

The day after Natalie came, Rosie wandered down to the kitchens to see if she could help there. But upon asking, it was made very clear that she wasn’t welcome to practice baking when the staff was preparing for the next meal. Which meant her only solace was in the gardens and orchards.

Still, things were improving. At least she was welcome outside. And a few days later, Natalie’s gowns were delivered.

Just as she had promised, they were just as beautiful as the ones the other court women wore. Not as fancy, perhaps, but Rosie preferred gowns that were on the simpler side. She didn’t like feeling like a cake dressed all in frosting with bows and ribbons and lace galore. And better still, the other women–even Lady Sandra and Miss Marianne–stopped mocking her for what she wore.

Of course, that didn’t mean they left her alone. Three days after meeting Natalie, Rosie was sitting beside her sister at luncheon when she became aware of a conversation involving her name several seats away.

Don’t listen, she chided herself. Eavesdropping never blessed anyone. But soon it was impossible not to hear, and she was almost convinced that it was being spoken so that she would take heed.

“… The prince’s bride-to-be is progressing as well as can be expected, according to the queen. She’s a quick learner, and her manners are as pretty as her face.”

Rosie didn’t look up to see who was speaking, but she was fairly sure it was a thin man with a sallow face who was the youngest son of a duke. She’d been introduced to him once and hadn’t been impressed. She was also rather convinced that the feeling was mutual.

“But her sister,” he continued, whispering very loudly to the woman beside him, “has quite the poor education, from what I hear. Rather vulgar manners, and she’s read very little. Her father was educated, but he died when the girls were still quite young. Lady Rose, was, apparently, a rather feral child, running through the forest barefoot, climbing trees, and finding all sorts of mischief.”

“Quite sad,” said a familiar, grating voice.

Rosie sighed, recognizing it as Lady Sandra’s.

“That’s why I hired the most expensive tutors money could buy for Marianne,” the woman went on, her words unreasonably loud. “Her father and I never wanted her to be a pretty nincompoop.”

She glanced meaningfully at Rosie, but at that moment, Rosie was trying to smother a smile.

You could ask for your money back, was on the tip of her tongue. But she quickly took a bite of bread to keep her mouth from repeating her mind’s quick retort.

She didn’t need to stir up any more trouble than she already had. And a glance at her sister told her that Snow had been listening to one of Frederick’s stories, rather than to Lady Sandra.

Rosie was glad. Had Snow heard the conversation, there was a good chance that she would have demanded to know what Rosie was smiling about, and then the court would have learned just how very un-pretty the future princess’s manners could be when provoked. But Rosie didn’t want her sister provoked. Snow’s future had to be protected. She and Frederick weren’t married yet. And Rosie could survive insults well enough. They didn’t draw blood.

At least, not the visible kind.

Still, it was becoming increasingly clear that Rosie’s life was on a very lonely trajectory. Her mother seemed to have forgotten how to speak. She left her rooms only for events to which she was explicitly invited and nothing more, and when Rosie tried to coax conversation from her, she answered in the shortest way possible. Snow, of course, was always one for conversation, but she was around less by the day. She was growing more popular with the court, having passed some unspoken test that Rosie seemed to have failed–a test she hadn’t known was being given. And for all the court seemed to think it now, Rosie was no idiot. She was more than a little aware that while she was tolerated by the court… she was not welcome.

To distract herself that afternoon, Rosie made a list of the fresh ingredients she would need to make an experimental cake, and then went in search of them in the gardens. After half an hour’s walk, she sat down and began jotting down numbers based on what she’d seen.

“For all Lady Sandra says about her daughter’s abilities, I’d be shocked if Miss Marianne ever did half this much work in her life,” said a deep voice from above.

Rosie looked up to see Prince Jonathan standing over her shoulder, studying her numbers on the paper. He was still wearing his riding clothes, and his boots were encrusted with mud as though he had only just returned from stabling his horse.

“You’ve been back for five minutes, and you’ve already heard about my deficits?” Rosie gave him a dry grin, trying to ignore the little jump for joy that her heart made at the sight of him. “Careful not to stand too close. Your reputation will be tarnished. Over half the palace is convinced that I’m an ignorant bumpkin by now.”

“It seems Lady Sandra has tried to make it so,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning down.

Rosie’s smile fell. Had this woman put her down to the prince’s face? What else was she saying that hadn’t hit Rosie’s ears yet?

“But the servants like you,” continued the prince thoughtfully, his eyes still on the paper. “And that’s saying a lot.”

Rosie laughed in surprise. “And how do you know that they like me?”

“Because I asked them,” he said with a shrug.