Lacemaker and the Princess

Chapter One When the Princess of Lamballe's lace was ready, Grand-mere decided that Ishould deliver it. Not because I was responsible -- I was not, as she oftenreminded me. Not because she trusted me -- she did not, as I well knew. It wasbecause I was worthless, because Grand-mere had been more than usuallyunhappy about the lace I'd made the previous day, and because one of the veryminor nobles had ordered ten yards of lace -- a vast amount -- that was to bepicked up today, and it wasn't finished. "Stop for George. He'll point you toHer Majesty's rooms," Grand-mere said, stuffing me roughly into my onereal dress. "He'll see you don't dawdle, or lose the lace." George was my older brother. He worked in the stables at the palace ofVersailles, caring for the Marquis de Lafayette's carriage horses. Our fatherhad also been a servant of the Marquis. Papa was dead; I never knew him. "Heaven forbid, lose the lace," murmured Maman, sitting up in her bed in thecorner of the room, and crossing herself. Grand-mere was large and fat andmean; Maman was small and crippled and sad. "Take care, Isabelle, will you?"She glanced at Grand-mere. "Perhaps -- " "I don't have a moment to spare, not one moment, not with us so behind,"Grand-mere said. She looked at Maman. She did not say it was Maman's faultwe were behind with our lacemaking, but she thought it, and Maman and I bothknew she was thinking it. Some days Maman's knees and hands hurt so bad thatshe had to drink laudanum before she could sleep. The medicine made her groggyall the next day, and it made her hands shake, too, which was not good in alacemaker. Grand-mere thought that Maman only pretended to be in pain, despite theevidence of her swollen fingers and knees. Grand-mere never believed in anypain she didn't feel herself. Grand-mere was an evil old goat. She made our house a misery. Now she poked me with Maman's cane. "Don't you think for a moment that you'reoff the hook. If it weren't for your shoddy work yesterday, we wouldn't be insuch a rush." This was a lie. The lace I'd ruined yesterday -- and I had made a mess of it,the pattern was complicated and I'd gotten confused -- was not the lace that wassupposed to be ready today. I wasn't trusted to make important lace. But I knewbetter than to contradict Grand-mere. "It won't take her long," Maman said. "You, Isabelle, remember you have workwaiting when you get home." I jumped, trying to see myself in the tiny mirror that hung high above thebureau. "Come here," Maman said. She pulled my hair back and powdered it withthe hare's foot and powder from the table beside her bed. "George will be working," I said. He slept at the stables. He was rarely home. "He can take a moment to help you," Maman said. Grand-mere grabbed my shoulder and hauled me back to the center of theroom. "Hold still." She gathered a handful of lace around the neckline of mydress and quickly sewed it into place. Her needle flashed near my throat. I heldstill. The lace was not ornate, but all lace was precious. If I moved andGrand-mere stabbed me and I bled on the lace, it would be my fault. "Some at her wrists, too," suggested Maman. "She'll ruin it," Grand-mere said. "Foolish girl. She'll fall in a mudpuddle or slip on the stairs." I held my breath. I loved to dress up, and I almost never got to wear the lacewe made. "She'll be careful," said Maman. "Consider that it's the palace, after all.Someone might notice her." Grand-mere considered. She looked at me the way a hawk might look at amouse. "Hold up your arms," she commanded at last. I held them up. "What shall I do?" I said, while Grand-mere whipstiBradley, Kimberly Brubaker is the author of 'Lacemaker and the Princess ', published 2007 under ISBN 9781416919209 and ISBN 1416919201.