The Most Beautiful Eyes Ch. 05

Muriel considered running away, but that would cause more problems than could be solved. The dishonor she'd place on her family could be far too much to handle. The baron might cancel the betrothal. People would stop socializing with her sisters. Her father might even be refused some business over this stupidity. All of this might not happen if Muriel was running away from a normal aristocrat, but Muriel's mistress was a princess and the mother of the Crown Prince!!

She couldn't even imagine a proper plan for running away. She was often watched, and she couldn't exactly switch clothes with a maid in her bedroom. None of the maids were loyal to her. They wouldn't risk their jobs for her.

There wasn't a way out.

On the afternoon after the princess made her frightening suggestion, Muriel was asked to go up to a floor she had never been to. Doctor Bergson escorted her there. His hair was in a tight ribbon. His green eyes were a bit taut.

On this previously forbidden floor, they went to a long hallway that had one door at the end and many more doors on each side. The floor had gray tiles and no rugs, as if the occupant here wanted to hear all the footsteps in the area.

"Normally, all the doors here would be locked from the inside," the doctor explained. "Servants are sent here once a week to sweep and dust the hallway. Every two weeks they would be allowed in some rooms, but never all the rooms at once. The door to His Highness' bedchamber is always locked. He cares for his room on his own."

The prince cleans his own bedroom? That was almost sad in Muriel's mind. She wondered if the prince was bitter about that. She hoped he didn't take his frustrations out on her.

Especially since she was about to be helpless.

Muriel folded her arms and quivered.

The last room on the right of the hall, that was where Doctor Bergson stopped walking. Muriel had to stop too. The doctor pulled the door open. The creaking hinges sounded like a dying little creature whining its despair to the world.

There were no windows in the room. The walls had exposed stones and bricks. The floor was stone. In the center, there was a wooden chair with a light cushion in the seat and a tall back. A basket with a lid was on the floor near it. A cord hung from the ceiling close to one of the chair's armrests. On Muriel's left, facing the chair, there was a lit fireplace. To the fireplace's right, there was a tall and empty bookcase against the wall.

Muriel believed that if the prince was using hidden corridors and such to navigate and secretly look at people, then he would likely use some kind of entrance behind the empty bookcase to get to this room.

She looked back for a short moment. There was a sliding lock ready to keep the door tight when needed.

Doctor Bergson guided her to the chair even though Muriel didn't need to be guided. She smoothed out her skirts and sat down. She was wearing a casual outfit with a smaller skirt. She only had a pillow-like bum roll to make her skirts a little round.

"I'm going to your ankles first," the doctor softly warned. Muriel sighed.

He knelt down and gingerly took one of her ankles with his fingers. Her shoes were low. He arranged her ankle right against a chair's leg. "Right there," he said. She kept her ankle at that spot while he went to the basket.

He pulled out some ropes.

Her ankle was tied to the chair's leg. The other ankle was tied to the other leg. "Are you uncomfortable?"

"No, Doctor."

"Is it too tight?"

"No, Doctor."

He lightly pulled on the ropes. "If they're too tight, tell me this minute. You're not to be injured in any manner."

"I'm fine, Sir."

"Fine, then I'm going to your wrists."

It was predictable. Her wrists were bound to the chair's armrests, her hands were turned down. She was wearing small gloves. She felt the rope on her skin. It wasn't a frayed or rough material, surprisingly.

Near her left hand, there was the hanging cord. "See if you can grip it with your fingers," the doctor coolly instructed. Muriel stretched her fingers up, pinched and twirled the cord around, and tugged. She heard a bell faintly ring somewhere. "That's good," said the doctor. "If there's an emergency, ring the bell, and I'll come right away."

"What sort of emergency are you imagining?" Muriel asked with a weak voice.

The doctor shrugged and made a smacking noise in his mouth as he got to a firm standing position. "I don't know. Say His Highness has a heart attack or some other ridiculous thing. He's never had heart problems, by the by. Or, what if a fire starts and His Highness can't free you for some reason? You should never be unable to run away from danger."

So ... he didn't think the prince might do something violent?

Muriel gulped down a lot of saliva and worry.

The doctor reached back into the basket. When his hand rose, he was holding a black blindfold.

"Are you ready, Miss?"

"Yes, Sir."

She closed her eyes. He put the cloth over her eyelids and snugly tied it around her head. Thankfully, her hair was in a high topknot. She could put the back of her head against the chair's back without any obstruction.

The most disquieting darkness! Even though there was warmth before her, Muriel was frigid.

The doctor's voice followed his hard footsteps. "I'm going to wait outside the door for the knocks. Do you need anything?"

"No, Sir."

"Alright."

Muriel heard him go to the door. Then the door was loudly opened and closed.

Then ... grinding, sliding, rough movement. Judging from the noise's direction and distance, Muriel believed that the empty bookcase was in fact a hidden door of sorts.

Soft yet big. Clapping against the stone floor. Footsteps? Feet that ... were probably covered in leather? Muriel didn't exactly understand.

The steps went to her left, where that door was. There were three knocks with significant pauses between each one. Then there were two rapid knocks. She heard the doctor's muffled voice. "I'm leaving now."

Metal sliding against metal.

The sliding lock.

Muriel's toes pressed together. Her fingers curled and pressed into the armrests.

She was blindfolded, tied to a chair, and locked in a room with a man she didn't know much about.

Her lips opened a little, and her tongue twitched as she thought to lick her lips, but then she thought that doing such a thing might be considered bold or even vulgar.

Footsteps again, moving back towards the right.

Then there weren't anymore steps.

Something was blocking the heat from the fire.

A scent ... linen and leather with some herbs and musk. And there was a mild wooden aroma hidden in there somewhere.

A voice!

Fluid, smooth, deep, as comforting as a deep cup of hot chocolate enjoyed while watching a blizzard from a window.

"Good afternoon."

Muriel tilted her head to one side and wondered what exactly she had expected. Something wheezy? Something smoky? Something watery?

Oh well.

She quietly responded to him. "Good afternoon, Your Highness. Thank you for sparing your time to have a conversation with me. I'm highly honored."

"I ... I need to apologize." There was certainly hesitation in his voice, but he didn't sound flimsy. "I haven't ... haven't spoken to many people in a long time. I'm not as civilized as I once was."

"That's perfectly understandable and acceptable, Your Highness."

"Do you truly believe that?"

She nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Well ... thank you." He cleared his throat. It sounded normal. "When you ... when you were in the capital, did you have a pleasant time?"

Another nod. "Yes, Sir."

"Did you meet any interesting people?"

Muriel didn't know why he would ask such a thing. Her brow furrowed. "I didn't make any friends, but I have been introduced to many people."

There was a new pattern established. The prince asked her the most boring questions, mostly about the Capital Season, and Muriel would answer. What was your favorite ball? What was your favorite ball gown? Did you find any interesting foods? Did anyone make you laugh? Did anyone flirt with you? Did you do any shopping?

Then the prince ended it all by saying, "I should leave you now. I'll ring a bell in my room so the doctor will know to collect you. Thank you for everything, Miss."

"I'm glad to know I pleased you, Your Highness."

She heard the man walk back to the left. She felt the fire. She heard the opening of the sliding lock. More walking, then the dragging noises that were likely from the bookcase.

Muriel waited a few more minutes.

The door was opened. Doctor Bergson's voice was there. "Hello. Are you alright?"

Muriel turned her head towards the voice. "Yes, thank you."

"I'm going to let you see, then."

He walked up to her and took away the blindfold. Everything seemed to be the same as it was before. There was no prince. The bookcase was in its place as if it had never been moved.

***

Princess Arya asked about the conversation during dinner ... technically.

"Was my son courteous to you?"

"Yes, Madam," Muriel said.

"Oh, that's nice to hear."

Nothing else was said of it. Princess Arya was cheerful, even humming to herself, so Muriel couldn't say that she was unwilling to talk about the issue. Perhaps she sensed that Muriel was the uneasy one, and she was showing mercy.

Dessert was a lemon cheesecake. It looked simple, but it tasted wonderful. Muriel almost forgot about her lack of confidence. Just when she was about to have her final bite, the butler came to her with two lower servants on each side of him. The servants had covered bowls of what was likely more food, which was confusing since the meal was practically done.

The butler said very solemnly, as if he was giving the women important news, "His Highness has requested that the cooks set treats aside for Miss Devin."

Muriel couldn't bring herself to finish her last bit of cheesecake. She gave the princess a concerned look, but the princess only shrugged. Muriel looked back to the butler and asked, "Does he expect me to eat them right now?"

"No, Miss," said the butler, "these are light snacks that can be stored for a long time. You may eat them at your leisure."

"Oh, that's ... that's very kind." Muriel got out of her seat and walked to one of the servants to look inside a bowl. There were golden brown crackers inside. They were clearly savory. There were green and brown flecks of herbs in the well cooked batter, and they smelled like the best bread. Muriel went to the other bowl. Inside that there were plump cookies that smelled like vanilla. "I could eat these as I read, if it wouldn't be any trouble."

She heard Princess Arya say with a light tone, "You most certainly will eat them. If those bowls aren't empty by the end of the week then I'll doubt your gratitude."

And so, on the following afternoon, after the women had rode horses for a bit, they retreated into the painting studio. The princess worked on her art while Muriel read books and ate her snacks.

Prince Vidar was likely watching her, making sure she enjoyed the food.

Muriel believed she knew why. She didn't want to dwell on that knowledge, didn't want to say it aloud, didn't want to admit to anyone or anything what was going on. She was a commoner, no title, no lands. Only a decent education and a decent profession kept her from being a nobody. But this prince was giving her all the attention in the world, and his mother didn't seem to find it offensive.

It was a mad, upside down world.

***

She was back in the chair, bound and blindfolded, waiting for the prince to emerge, and he did. Muriel heard him. He knocked on the door, waited for the doctor's voice, and then he locked the door. Then he was in front of her, and Muriel again smelled that masculine scent.

For a moment she wondered just how ugly this man could possibly be, and why did it seem that she was being manipulated in so many ways?

"Good afternoon, Miss Devin. Are you well?"

Muriel nodded and closed her gloved fingers into what she hoped were elegant positions. "Yes, Your Highness. Thank you for you concern."

"You seemed to enjoy the treats left for you." A sigh, a gritty sigh, she felt it in the air. It sounded correct. "It ... it was fun too see that you were happy." His voice was lighter than normal. "Your fingers are so graceful."

"My lord is very kind," Muriel said.

A bit of urgency came over the prince. "Wait. I mean, listen? Please listen."

"What else can I do, Your Highness?" Muriel couldn't help it. She smirked a little, and she said, "I can't very well leave the room, now can I?" The only reason why she thought she was free to say that was because at this point she was convinced the prince had some meekness in him.

"Oh! Ha ... well ... yes. I mean that I have a request. It ... it's a very strange request."

Muriel wanted to roll her eyes. She settled for an eyebrow rising underneath the blindfold. "I'm loyal to my lord, who's also my prince, how can I deny you anything?" She tried very hard to keep her negative emotions out of her voice.

There was a shuffling that possibly involved clothing and limbs. "I was imagining a bit of ... entertainment. I'd ask for servants to carry certain furniture and other items here. Then, after they leave, I'd arrange everything to my tastes. And finally, you'd come here to sit down and read, or sew, or whatever you fancy, and eat more treats."

Muriel's fingers separated and bent in a way that nearly stung. "I ... I'd be alone in this room?"

"Ye ... yes, Miss." He sounded like he was ready to spit out an apology.

"And you'd simply ... hide in the walls and watch me through a tiny hole?"

"I ... I know it's very ridiculous, but if you did this for me, then I'd be so happy, so very happy."

Muriel's lips thinned out as she struggled with the implications.

"Miss?"

"Ah ... Your Highness, what would your mother think of this common companion if she were to have her prince of a son fawn over her?"

A laugh. There was a cough hidden in there, but it was still a laugh. "She's a strict woman, but not unkind. She understands my problem, and she won't hinder my fingers from any dram of happiness within my reach."

Muriel gasped.

Her brain was like a wooden puzzle box being slid and clicked into its solution. She thought she understood something.

Assuming that Prince Vidar had such poor self-esteem, and he cloistered himself even from the servants, then he might be terribly depressed, even desperate for new things to do and see.

Her cheeks and nose were nearly electric as she felt an odd rush, believing she had truly understood something.

This was why Princess Arya had kicked companion after companion out of the castle, why she had been so selective, why she was so kind to the one she eventually chose!

Princess Arya had wanted to find someone, someone she could trust, to entertain her son, to keep him happy.

"Miss Devin?"

Muriel's bosom trembled under her clothing as she swallowed all her attempts at giggling. "Hm? I ... well, I don't see the harm in giving you something special to look at, something for your eyes only."

This time, the prince was the one who gasped, but Muriel detected joy. "Ah ... thank you! Thank you so very much! I don't know if I can properly express how ... how thrilled I am!"

***

Prince Vidar had sent a message with a funny little request. He asked Muriel to wear one of her nicest and frothiest outfits, jewelry and all, even if the gown wasn't properly colored for the autumn season. She could always put a fur stole around herself if she was cold, anyway.

Muriel put on a gown of an intense raspberry red color. There were swirling, looped curls stitched in a white geometric pattern over the edges of the robe part of the gown, along with lace borders. In the back, hanging from the shoulders and trailing down, there was an extra "sack-like" panel of fabric with subtle pleats, giving the dress a mildly distinguished look. There was a small pattern of ruffles on the underskirt, along with little white fabric roses in rows.

Below the lace that came from her sleeves, there were matching bracelets of more lace and simple white ribbons. Her low neckline made room for two necklaces, a lace choker and a low hanging strand of false pearls. Her hairstyle was a bit higher than normal, with stiff curls on each side and a few long locks reaching her collarbone. A black fur stole was hanging over her forearms in case she needed it.

Muriel was walking down a hall, clasping her gloved hands together and looking at the fine seams in the fabric, when she heard a known voice call out, "Oh, Muriel! You're a summer flower this afternoon!"

She looked up, and she saw Princess Arya smiling down at her very nicely. That smile touched her eyes in the right way. Her hands were folded but not tense. Her shoulders were slightly lower than normal, as if there was something lax in her arms.

Muriel knew right then that her assumption was correct. She was meant to play a part for the lonely prince.

She curtsied to the princess, but she was confident as she did it. "My mistress is kind."

"Oh, don't waste any more minutes here. Go on." The princess stepped aside.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Muriel said as she walked on.

When she was up in the hallway of rooms reserved for Prince Vidar, she found the room with the empty bookcase. Inside, there was a wide couch with white upholstery and curved legs. It was set at a slight angle, somewhat facing the bookcase. A basket covered with a blanket was on a table near the couch. There was also a low table with bottled wine, a cork opener, and a glass. Plus, there were a few stacked books and fashion magazines waiting for her eyes.

Muriel hummed a simple tune as she closed the door, locked it, and sat down on the couch. She slipped her gloves off and put them in her lap. At first, she held the bottle of wine with apprehension in her blue-gray eyes. What if some wine splashed onto the couch's pure white fabric?!

But she bit her pink lip and opened it. Then she shrugged because it turned out fine. She poured some wine into her glass and set the bottle aside. Then she went to the basket. There were cheesy crackers inside. They smelled like happy days.

Muriel talked to herself then. It was almost as if there wasn't anyone watching her.

Of course, she never forgot that.

Lazily looking at one of the magazines, nibbling on the crackers, Muriel put her most innocent thoughts into the air. A sip of wine happened on occasion. Muriel didn't think it was wise to chug wine down like it was nothing.

"Some of these hairstyles are so tall. How can these woman sleep at night?"

"Oh, this is a cheeky little girl."

"The fire's so lovely. If I melted into a puddle, I'd be the happiest puddle in the world."

"If my sisters were here, they'd be quite envious. I have so many luxuries and a surprising amount of leisure time."

Silly thoughts, unimportant thoughts, happy thoughts.

When there were no more crackers, Muriel put her gloves back on, rose, and curtsied, although she didn't know where the peephole was located. "Thank you very much, Your Highness."

She left everything in the room.

When Muriel was in her bedchamber, she admired her reflection for a long time. Even with the rouge taken into consideration, her face was very rosy. Her lips seemed fuller and softer than she last remembered. Her eyes were a bit sleepy looking.

Did Prince Vidar find her to be beautiful? Was he thrilled whenever he watched her? What did he do about it? How did his body react?

Muriel blinked, looked down, and tugged on her gloves' fingers.

Those thoughts were too daring. It would be best to avoid them.