The Most Beautiful Eyes Ch 04

Author's Note: Funny thing, fashion dolls were a legitimate thing in the past. People used to make dolls with cute clothes just to show to adults around the world what sort of clothing, hairstyles, and accessories were popular. However, I'm pretty sure the children loved them too.

***

On a light autumn morning, Muriel was dismounting a horse, and so was Princess Arya. Their horses were then taken inside their safe stables. Muriel happened to see Doctor Bergson casually sitting on a fence's edge beside a different man. This new man had slightly dark skin, black hair, and weak eyes. He mentioned something about being, "happy to be out of bed for once."

Muriel picked up the skirts of her riding habit and hurried over to the darker man. She curtsied and said, "Forgive my rudeness, Your Highness, but I wanted to thank you for your generous gift, and I never thought I'd have the chance."

The man hopped off of the fence, which had the doctor protesting. "Be careful! Let me help you next time!"

The man shrugged. Then he looked down at Muriel and said, "I'm sorry, Miss, but you're mistaken. I'm an ordinary man. His Highness is likely in his quarters right now."

Muriel heard the princess approaching. "Did you think this was my son? Silly girl."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Muriel backed away a bit. "I certainly made myself into a simpleton." Actually, now that she could examine the man's clothing, he didn't look wealthy enough to be a prince. He looked very average.

"Come, Muriel," the princess said. "We should change clothes and have some light reading."

Muriel patted her brow and cheeks with a handkerchief and followed her mistress back into the keep.

***

She didn't read. She pretended to read while thinking, but that didn't get her anywhere.

Feeling quite embittered by her lack of mental progress, Muriel let her eyes float around the library.

Books ... couches ... armchairs ... paintings ... tables ... bookcases ... plants in pots and vases ... stuff ... stuff ... stuff ...

Huh?

Muriel slowly and lightly closed her book against her thumbs as she gawked at something. It wouldn't normally have bothered her. In fact, had her outlook been normal, she would have assumed she was looking at nothing more interesting than a wallpaper's pattern.

And the wall did have a wallpaper with an intricate pattern. Muriel had seen so many rooms with luxurious wallpapers. She had become accustomed to these expensive things in a very short time. She wouldn't have thought to look at the wallpaper if she hadn't been thinking so painfully.

Someone was watching her.

The wallpaper in this room had a repeating vertical pattern of exotic bamboo, foreign insects and spiders, and many tiny flowers. But in one spot ... near a small table ... where a little vase holding a plant innocently stood ... there was something off. Something that was partially hidden by the plant's leaves.

One of the insects in the pattern, a black one, it was only just a little bit larger than its brothers, which certainly were meant to be the same. The pattern seemed to have been made with a rolling and printing method. The duplicating images should be precise.

Muriel wanted to investigate, but she was afraid of doing so with the princess nearby. So, she decided to wait until nighttime.

But, sadly, the princess wanted to go on long walks around the estate after lunch. Then she wanted to practice some dances for the next Capital Season. Then, before dinner, the princess wanted Muriel to play the piano for a long time. After dinner, more dance practicing. When it was time to go to bed, Muriel was frazzled.

However, she was also determined.

When Muriel thought that everyone was asleep, she dressed into a very casual outfit. A pair of soft slippers, a comparably narrow skirt, a white shirt with long sleeves, and a set of quilted jumps on her torso. She didn't even have stays. She did, however, put on a dark blue cloak with a hood.

She should have been ready to go, but she was so tired. She was worried that if she laid down she would fall asleep and forget to leave her room, but she wobbled a bit as if walking was too unbearable. Muriel groaned and took a seat near her bedroom window.

The moon was full, which meant that it was bright.

The moon's glow reflected on the black sea.

Beautiful.

Her elbow went to the windowsill. Her cheek went to her palm.

She sighed.

Huh? What was that on the shore?

Muriel's gaze tightened.

It was ... a shape, a tall dark shape. The details were impossible to see. The thing was moving along the shore. It looked bulky.

She watched the thing until it eventually turned, moved away from the shore, and went out of her view. Muriel thought it might have went under the cliff the castle stood on.

Whoever that person was, and it had to be a person, he or she was alone in the night, possibly determined to be so. Nobody met the person on the shore, so that had likely been a leisurely stroll in the night. This was Muriel's thought process. Besides, if the person wanted to meet someone, wouldn't he or she light a torch or a lantern to be a signal? The moonlight did light up the beach, but if Muriel wanted to meet someone there, she'd ask to see something else, preferably made of fire.

Or maybe something unseen, but heard should be a signal?

A bell? A chime?

In any case, whether the person wanted to meet someone or not, no meeting took place.

Where did he ... probably a he ... come from?

If he came from the city, or one of the more rural villages, he must have taken a few long roads. If he came from the castle, then he must have also taken a road, but a comparably shorter one. Climbing up and down the nearly vertical side of the cliff was out of the damn question.

These thoughts encouraged and stimulated Muriel. She was able to get up and walk without any difficulty. She lit a candle in a small holder and carried it as she crept out of her room.

The halls were so dark! Muriel felt like a tiny insect crawling into a dry, long pipe.

Regardless of her feelings, she went on.

And on.

Careful, gentle, alert.

When she was inside the library that had the suspicious wallpaper, Muriel walked over to that oddly sized image of an insect. She put her candle on the table with the potted plant. She looked at the black insect that had bothered her. It was round and beetle-like.

The pad of her index finger swept around the wallpaper's smooth surface, right around the beetle.

But ... around the beetle, there was something not smooth, a lower level, a dip, an indentation.

Muriel lightly pressed into the indentation. It felt looser than the rest of the wall. With some light movement, she was able to slide it almost all the way out of view.

A peephole?

Muriel tried to look into the hole, but only darkness was visible, which was sensible. It was nighttime, and there didn't seem to be anyone behind the wall. But then again, perhaps someone had covered the hole on their side so that nobody could peek in the other direction.

Well ... that wasn't exactly ... shocking? Muriel had been warned, hadn't she? She was being watched. She just ... didn't quite know how to feel.

She did know, however, that she had been lied to.

"Oh, have you found something?"

Muriel gasped, hopped in place, and turned around.

A woman in mostly shadow, but with a glow on her face, she was holding an oil lamp with a glass cover. Her hair was loose. Her clothing was light.

Princess Arya, there was no question.

Muriel pressed her hands together as she stared at the woman and tried to think of something to say.

But the princess held up a hand. "Don't strain yourself." The hand lowered. "I imagine you'd like to confront me." Was she ... was she smiling? That might not be good. "You don't trust me. I appreciate that. Trust is far too valuable to blindly give away."

Muriel wanted to nod. She didn't nod. She also wanted to shake her head. She didn't do that either.

The princess said, "You want the truth, and that's understandable, but this is a private matter. I'd rather discuss this with you and nobody else. Would you be willing to sit in a room with me, alone?"

Muriel had done that many, many times before, but now ...

"Your hesitation is reasonable, Muriel, but please consider this. I've been working on your reputation. I've invested my own funds into your well-being. Harming you would result in harming myself. And although you don't trust me, I trust you."

"Huh?" Muriel's face shriveled in confusion.

Princess Arya turned around, but she looked back at her. Her face's profile was in a dark silhouette. "I'm going to my favorite sitting room, the one where we first had tea. Come."

Muriel frowned, but she was highly interested. So, she took her candle and followed the princess.

Inside the sitting room, the two women stood close to each other in a corner. Their lights were on a small table.

And Muriel listened.

"Once I tell you this, you'll be bound. I won't let you out of my hand. If you betray us ... my son and myself ... if you betray us I'll do everything within my power to destroy you."

The princess whispered those words slowly and clearly. There was no mistake there.

A branching path. Muriel was a few steps away from being unable to return to normalcy. She sucked her lower lip behind her teeth, looked down at her hardly visible skirt, and released a shuddering breath. "I have no reason to betray you, do I? What meal have you refused me? What wound have you put in my flesh? What cell have you thrown me into? Which of my family members have you ruined? The same questions should be applied to His Highness. Distrust and abuse are two different concepts, and I will never blend them together."

"You're quite predictable, but I felt it was fitting to give you a warning, regardless."

Muriel looked back up to the princess. Her eyes were so dark. "Madam?"

Princess Arya continued. "Doctor Bergson is outside this room's door. You might not have noticed him," and Muriel certainly didn't, "but he's there, keeping watch in case a servant lurks around." She shrugged and her lips twitched as if she thought that piece of information was funny but she didn't want Muriel to sense her amusement. "Today, I noticed that you seemed to look at the eyehole in the library. I wondered if you'd be determined enough to investigate it, even if you were exhausted. You impressed me, Muriel."

So ... the princess had worn her out on purpose? Muriel wanted to holler at her, but she kept quiet for fairly obvious reasons.

"Only the good doctor and I know the uncompromising truth of this matter, and I'm about to give the truth to you. It's a secret, a secret that needs to be kept for now. If you tell this secret, then you'll have betrayed us, and you won't live well."

Muriel nodded. "I understand."

"I believe you do. Now, listen. Listen with the kindest ears. My son is not ill, not strictly. He does not, as far as I know, spend most of his days in bed. Instead, he goes to one of his rooms to enjoy his diversions, or he spies on everyone else in the castle."

Muriel's lips shrunk and pressed together as she wondered why anyone would behave that way.

But she didn't wonder for long.

"My poor Vidar has been cursed by a villainous fairy. He was once handsome, but now he's far too grotesque. He's ashamed of himself, and he hides from almost everyone. He won't even leave the estate. He never goes out to the public. He's a wretched thing."

Muriel's fingers, jaw, and eyelids all loosened a bit. Even her spine lost some tension.

Honestly? He was ugly? He was mortified by his appearance and so he hid? But there were plenty of ugly people in the world and they tended to live normally. If all this was true, then the prince was being melodramatic and childish, or that's what Muriel assumed.

None of that meant he was a bad person, though.

"That's our secret, Muriel. That's why you are being watched, why everyone is being watched. When one is isolated with minimal social interaction, one finds delight even in watching a maid carelessly break a vase while dusting."

Muriel chose that moment to respond. Some of her composure had been regained. "If His Highness prefers to keep his appearance a secret, then I have no choice but to do the same."

The princess nodded. "If you ever suspect that my son is watching you, try to ignore the feeling. The servants don't know of his surveillance, and if they did then they might learn the crux of the secret."

"Yes, Madam. I understand."

Princess Arya looked down towards her oil lamp. "Again, I believe you do. No go on to your chamber and sleep well. I know you're craving a night's sweet rest."

After a short curtsy, Muriel took her candle and left the room. She saw the outline of Doctor Bergson near the doorway. She felt awkward and she didn't want to exchange any knowing gestures or glances. She quietly ignored the man and hurried on to her room. She really was tired.

***

On a chilly but gentle morning, while the women were embroidering delicate logograms into common but well loved expressions. Doctor Bergson walked into the room and bowed. He was holding a box that was was perhaps as long as Muriel's forearm with her hand's length added to it. It also had some mildly significant width.

"Pardon me, His Highness left this box and a message outside the door to his quarters. It's a gift for Miss Devin."

Muriel looked up from her frame and gazed at the box as her stomach weakened. Across from her, she heard the princess' voice. "Oh? That's kind of him. Bring it to her."

Doctor Bergson went to Muriel and held the box out. Muriel put her frame aside and put the box into her lap. She clicked the lid open.

And she couldn't stop herself from cooing.

It was a wooden doll. While dolls were often used for children's play, many dolls were shipped around the world in order to show off each country's latest fashions. Even during times of war, when border patrols were more strict, travelers with fashion dolls were often shown favoritism. Muriel thought that this exquisite little gift had to be a fashion doll, simply had to be.

Carefully painted and varnished, the doll's body was light and soft, carved into an image of a woman. She, which seemed to be a more appropriate term than "it" in Muriel's mind, was supported by a metal stand. The "robe" part of the outfit was tightly closed in front, without need for a stomacher, and it was a solid fern green color. The revealed underskirt was a reddish kind of orange with a tiny printed pattern of black dots.

Most dolls Muriel had seen had roughly the same head shape and similar features, normally less realistic than, say, a skilled painter's portrait. And so, Muriel was confused when she took in the doll's features. Instead of looking straight ahead with oddly large eyes, the doll looked down, almost as if her eyes were closed. Her irises weren't visible.

Her face wasn't a typical round shape. Her face was ... familiar. The jaw was more narrow than the cheeks. The lips were lovingly shaped and painted, and they were plump and calm. The nose was smooth and straight instead of the small button that was in many dolls. The doll's imaginary skin was painted a bit peachier than the stark white that was common in dolls. It looked like human flesh.

Her hair was pale blonde with false curls tightly kept in the back. There was a white cap, topped with a small silk flower. It was edged with lace, and there were two dangling lappets falling down to the middle of the doll's back. Her posture was modest but charming.

Muriel looked up to the doctor and asked, "Did His Highness ask someone to purchase this in the city?"

Doctor Bergson smiled as if he knew something very interesting. And he soon proved that to be true. He stepped closer and bent down to whisper into Muriel's ear, "No, he didn't. He carved, painted, and dressed the doll. He also crafted and sewed all her clothing."

The look in Muriel's eyes would have suggested that she had been told the prince had sprouted wings, flew across the planet, and stole a giant's shoe. She was so surprised that her brain had difficulty filtering the man's words.

She held the doll closer, and she noticed that in the green overdress of the outfit, there was actually some embroidery! They were small silver squares and circles around the sleeves, collar, and on the edges of the pinned up green overskirt that revealed the underskirt. She would have gladly believed that the prince carved and painted a doll. She'd even believe that he made her clothing. But ... embroidery? Delicate, tiny, embroidery?

Most men had a basic concept of emergency patchwork. Quite a few men worked as tailors. Sailors, too would have their own embroidery skills. But this man was a damn prince, and here he had some embroidery to show off. It wasn't elaborate, but it was crisp and tight.

But ... her face softened as she thought that if this prince was truly isolated and needed to keep up hobbies for his own amusement, it wouldn't be unrealistic for him to learn how to embroider pretty things.

As the doctor walked off, Princess Arya approached and said to Muriel with something like maternal joy in her voice, "That's a beautiful little thing! You should put it in your room!"

"It certainly is a piece of art," Muriel said as she carefully put the doll back in its box. The box's width had been for the wide skirts on the doll's form.

Later that day, as she displayed the doll in her room, Muriel realized the doll resembled her.

Was Princess Arya aware of that?

If so, was she secretly angry about her son putting such attention to a commoner?

Muriel hoped nothing terrible would happen over this.

***

Both Princess Arya's and Muriel's birthdays were in autumn and a few days apart. Muriel didn't say anything about her own birthday, however. She didn't think anything would be done for it.

For the princess' birthday, there was a very luxurious yet small dinner with a very expensive trifle dessert. Layers of sponge biscuits soaked in alcohol, fruity jelly, candied fruit bits and and ginger. A top layer of piped whipped cream with edible flower petals and more candied fruits. It was served in a glass bowl, and Muriel was grateful to be given a portion. She adored whipped cream. She took her time when eating it, closing her eyes and quietly humming her pleasure.

Muriel had made a gift for the princess in advance. It was a framed piece of fabric with an embroidered image, a calm bird with bright red feathers perched inside a silver cage.

"This is a lovable little piece," Princess Arya said as her dark brown eyes glided over the stitches. "I appreciate that you thought to give me a present. I imagine giving someone accustomed to the best anything at all would be highly intimidating."

Muriel lowered her head. "I assumed my mistress would be kind enough to acknowledge a gift from me, and I was correct."

The princess rolled her eyes at that, but she said, "What matters is that I'm happy on my birthday, and I am."

"Your Highness," the butler said as he approached with a new box, "there's another gift for you."

"Hm? My son has one for me?" the princess said as she gingerly laid Muriel's gift on the table.

The butler put the box into her hands. "Yes, Madam. He sent men to the city again."

"A good little boy, indeed," Princess Arya said as she opened the box. Her eyes widened and she grinned. "What a beautiful trinket!" She pulled said trinket up. It was a necklace of three stands of pearls with a single pendant in the center, a smooth dark opal stone.

Muriel clapped her hands. "It's almost too fine, Your Highness. Your son is very grateful to you."