~Author:  Jemirah
~Archive:  You want it, you got it, just please let me know!
~Spoilers:  Only for things you read when you were a kid.
~Rating:  PG for squeaky clean.  Well, pretty much.
~Category:  Alternate universe, past life, fairy tale... you
get the idea.
~Summary:  And they all lived happily ever after....
~Feedback:  jemirah@charter.net
~Disclaimer:  <sigh>  Not mine.  <yawn>
~Author's Note:  This is a fairy tale set in a time and
place that exist only in my imagination, so please try to
keep an open mind.  Just think of all the crazy storybooks
you read when you were a kid; that'll give you an idea of
the right time period.  More at the end.
~Special Thanks:  To many people who were instrumental in
the completion of this story.  phoenix99, Ms. AM, Andrea, my
sister, XochiLuvr and numerous other people who read this,
encouraged me and insisted I write faster; phoenix99,
Catriona Wimsey and Jen (aka Marti Mulder) did bang-up-
knock-down-drag-out beta for which I am especially grateful;
and Ms. AM gave me so many fabulous ideas I thought I was
gonna have to give her co writing credit.  ;)
~Dedication:  To Catriona, who made me remember how much I
actually liked this story after having shelved it for a long
time.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mary Church
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~Once upon a time....~~~~~

"Good morning, Mary.  How are you this beautiful day?"

"Good morning, Father.  I'm fine, thank you.  How are you?"
Mary answered as she wondered if the old priest thought
rainy, sullen days beautiful or if he just never looked out
the church windows.

"I am wonderful, child, wonderful," he said in his usual
preoccupied manner as he hurried toward the altar, taking
care not to track footprints up the aisle she was currently
mopping.

They worked in silence for a few minutes, Mary finishing
with the floor and moving on to polish some of the woodwork
that made this one of the most beautiful churches in the
country.  Father Stephen hummed a bit as he prepared things
for the day's mass and it comforted her as it always had.
She'd had an unsettled feeling for nearly a week, but
hearing the familiar sound she'd grown up listening to set
her somewhat to rights.

Just as she was finishing with a pew, the heavy front door
to the church creaked open.   One of Mary's least favorite
people in the world entered, bringing with her a cold, wet
mist.

"Good morning, Lady Diana.  Father Stephen is just--"

"It's of no consequence where he is; it is you I have come
to see."  Mary cringed inwardly as she realized she was
going to have to fashion a new frock of some sort.  The
hardest woman in the town to please, Diana always found
something wrong with the finished product to keep from
having to pay full price.

"What can I do for you?" she asked politely, though she
foolishly felt like slapping the woman for no reason.

"I want you to make me a new dress."  Of course.  "Be at my
house at three o'clock to fit me.  There's to be a ball at
the palace in a month and I require something very special
for the occasion."

She knew she was staring at the woman, but Mary couldn't
help it.  She'd heard nothing about a ball at the palace.
Usually the servants knew about such things practically
before the king did.

"What?" Diana gave her a look of disbelief.  "You didn't
expect to receive an invitation, did you?  I can just see
you at the palace, in your rags with your heathen hair all
tangled and matted.

"No, Milady, I was just surprised.  I'd heard nothing about
it."

Diana started laughing.  "Who would they address it
to--'Mary Church'?"  She couldn't suppress the flinch at
this, the most vicious of reminders of her lowliness.  She
had no real surname so she was called 'Church', since that's
where she lived.

Mary just stood silent while the other woman continued to
laugh, trying to repair the wounds that were being inflicted
upon her soul.

"And what better name to address something to than that of
the Mother of God?"  Father Stephen's voice boomed out,
startling Mary as much as it did Lady Diana. "Good morning,
Diana.  I see you are asking our Mary to sew you a fine
frock for the ball," he added as he came to the back of the
church to join them.

"Ahem, yes I am, Father."  Diana, looking properly
chastened, gave the priest a hasty smile before turning back
to Mary.  "If you'd be so good as to come to my house, I'll
describe to you what I'd like."

"I've no doubt you'll find her more than capable, miss. Mary
is known all through the county for her skills with the
needle.  But that is no surprise, is it, my dear?  You
learned from the best."  The old man bestowed a sunny smile
upon her right when she needed it most.

"Yes I did, Father.  Sister Elizabeth was the most talented
woman I've ever known."  They both bowed their heads for a
fraction of a second as had become their habit when speaking
of the late nun.

"Very well then.  I'll see you at three o'clock, Mary.  Good
morning, Father."  Diana took her leave and Mary couldn't
help the sigh of relief that escaped her.

"Don't let her bother you, my dear.  She is a petty, cold
woman who is jealous of your youth, among other things."

Father Stephen must have seen her dislike for the woman much
more easily than Mary thought possible.  It was very
uncommon for him to speak against one of his parishioners in
such a way.

"Yes, Father," she said without thinking to question him
about the 'other things'.

"And your 'heathen hair' is very lovely," he said quietly as
he went back to his tasks.

"Thank you, Father."  Mary was stunned; her looks had never
been discussed much by her 'family' at the church. In fact,
the only people who did discuss them were the ones like
Diana who didn't trust her.  Those who had hair the color of
fire like Mary were thought by some to be possessed by the
devil and to be witches by others.  The fact that she'd been
raised by the church was the only thing that had saved her
from persecution numerous times.

"Don't look so surprised.  It was Sister Elizabeth who
wouldn't permit such things to be discussed.  Now that she
is not here, you should know that you are a lovely young
woman.  Now, if your tasks in the chapel are done, why don't
you go see if Martha needs any help in the kitchen."

Mary knew this was Father Stephen's way of telling her the
subject wouldn't be taken any further, so she did as he
asked and made her way to the kitchen.

~~~~~

The servants were making up for their earlier ignorance by
gossiping non-stop about the ball.  The kitchen of the
church was a bit of a meeting place for the local working
people to meet and share everything they'd heard.  This was
something Mary had grown up with, but it still amazed her
that people could find so much interest in things that
didn't involve them.

Martha the cook was proud to tell the people gathered there
that the ball was a surprise for everyone, since the prince
had died not more than a month before.  The palace, by all
rights, should still be in mourning for the dead heir to the
throne.

Earl, the gardener who was courting Martha, only knew the
ball was set for a month away, but he made a great noise
sharing that information.  Mary did not mention already
having heard the tidbit from Lady Diana.

Peter, the shepherd from the Hawthorne house who was rather
haphazardly courting Mary, told them the ball was to
celebrate a new heir to the throne.  That put a silence over
the bustling kitchen like nothing had in Mary's memory.  The
late Prince Geoffrey was the only legitimate child of King
George; everyone knew that.

Lydia, Lady Diana's personal maid, had sneaked away to share
the information that it was an open ball.  Everyone in the
kingdom was invited to meet the new heir--even commoners
such as themselves.

Mary's heart gave a small, pitiful lurch at the thought of
actually going to as wondrous an event as a ball, but she
knew it wasn't possible.  Diana was right; she didn't belong
in such a place.  She was Mary Church, a nameless foundling
taken in and raised by the generous priest and nun who had
made it their lives' work to serve God.

Still, it would be wonderful to get to see the palace and
the king and all the people in their beautiful clothes.
Knowing she should shake such fanciful thoughts from her
mind, Mary left the stifling confines of the kitchen, but
not before telling Peter that she wouldn't be available for
him to call on her that evening because of the dreaded visit
to Lady Diana's. The gossip was still flying fast and
furious but she had work to get done before three.

~~~~~

Much to her surprise, Mary had her chores finished by 1:30.
As she did whenever she had a spare moment, she quickly
found herself on the way to her favorite place in the whole
world.

The early-morning rain had stopped long enough for her to
make it to the edge of town, where there was a stand of
trees that lined a small field.  It hadn't been claimed by
man or nature and Mary liked to imagine that someone had
once loved the spot as she did, though she didn't know if it
was possible.  It was a lovely, peaceful area full of
untamed grasses, flowers and herbs of all sorts.  She'd
found it a few years ago when Sister Elizabeth had sent her
to gather herbs she'd needed for a poultice.

The ground was level and clear, leading her to believe that
it surely had been done by someone on purpose, maybe for a
home that had never gotten built.  She could imagine a
little cottage where a happy couple talked about their
dreams and planned for the future.  If she were to ever get
married, she'd want a home on a piece of land like this.
She'd want to live away from the rest of town in a place as
beautiful as this.  A short laugh escaped her lips as the
ridiculousness of such a thought occurred to her.  No one
except a poor shepherd who'd never be able to own his own
land would ever want to marry her.

Her thoughts were interrupted then by what was quite
possibly the loudest clap of thunder Mary had ever heard.
She looked to the sky to see dark, ominous clouds rapidly
closing in on her.  She'd be caught in a downpour if she
didn't find shelter and find it fast.  The trees would
probably keep her fairly dry, but somehow that seemed
dangerous to her.  She'd seen too many struck by lightning
in her short life to feel safe under them in a storm.
Unfortunately, that left little choice for her unless she
wanted to go to Lady Diana's a sodden mess.

Saying a quick prayer as she crossed herself, she ran for
the woods just as huge raindrops started their descent to
the earth around her.  Even on a gloomy day like this it was
a beautiful place.  The leaves on the trees were showing
their pale undersides and the grass was swaying together in
a rhythm of its own.  She never failed to be amazed at how
strange and different the ordinary world looked during a
thunderstorm.  The sky was nearly black near the horizon but
the green of the land was bright with life and light.

"Beautiful day we're having, isn't it?"  A male voice
startled her out of her reverie.  She looked back to see a
man leaning against a tree just behind the one she'd chosen
to take shelter under.  Cursing herself, she wished she'd
thought to tell Father Stephen or perhaps Martha where she
was going for once.  It wasn't safe for a woman to be out
alone, especially this far from any civilization.  She hated
to encourage him by speaking to him, so she didn't.

"What's the matter, can't you speak?" he asked as he moved
closer to the edge of the woods.  She could see him better
now but, even though he didn't appear to be someone she
should be scared of, she was still cautious. He had dark,
fine hair that flopped onto his forehead, expressive eyes
that seemed to see right through her and he held his right
arm up to his chest as if to protect it from something.  His
clothing was that of a commoner though his rich voice spoke
with a cultured accent more suited to a gentleman.  "Are you
all right?  You're not hurt, are you? Were you running from
someone?" he asked as he scanned the direction from which
she'd come.

She felt compelled to answer him since he spoke with so much
concern in his voice.  "No, no, I'm fine.  I was running to
escape the rain, thank you."

He smiled at her then and she shuddered as all nervousness
fled her body.  The instinct she felt to trust him scared
her more than he did.  Sister Elizabeth would have given her
a piece of her mind had she been able to see her like this.
She'd taught her better than to speak to strange men.

"Are you from around here?  I don't think I've ever seen you
before."

"I live at the church in town," she said, looking at her
feet. The rain was starting to soak through her shoes and it
was not a pleasant feeling.

"Ah, I see," he said.  "So what brings you out here on a day
like this?"

She was glad he had changed the subject as she looked around
her at the small scrap of earth that she loved better than
any other.

"I just visit here sometimes when I have a free moment."

"A 'free moment'?  Surely it takes longer than that to walk
here from town."  The wry, amused tone in his voice made her
look at him again.  His eyes twinkled merrily and she knew
she should've been afraid but she wasn't.

"I like to walk," she countered, wondering at her boldness.
He laughed and it occurred to her that she would like to
hear it again.

"Fair enough, fair enough.  What keeps you so busy that you
don't have much free time?  I'll bet you have a brood of
flame-haired children terrorizing the town right now in your
absence."

"I--I....  No, I don't have any children."  She'd almost
thought he was making fun of her, but the look of interest
on his face was too real.  "I work at the church, to pay for
my keep."

"And they keep you so busy that you don't have time to come
here very often?"

"That and my sewing tend to keep me rather busy, yes." She
idly wondered what was wrong with her; five minutes of his
attention and she was pouring out every detail of her life
to him.

"Ah, I wondered how you afforded such a pretty frock.  It
would appear that you fashioned it yourself."

At the mention of her clothing, Mary glanced down at her
dress and felt a jolt as she realized he'd been looking at
her body.  Looking back up at him, she decided she'd said
enough about herself.  It was time she learned something
about him.

"Now that you know all there is to know about me, you might
tell me something about yourself."

"But I don't know nearly enough about you--"

"You know more than I know about you, which consists of the
fact that you've recently been in some kind of accident."

He had the decency to look shocked.  "I was thrown from my
horse a couple of months ago.  How did you know--"

"I doubt it's been even a month, the way you're favoring
your arm."

It was his turn to look down as he glanced at the limb in
question.  "Tomorrow will make three weeks ago.  My name is
Will; what's yours?"

"Mary.  What are you looking at me like that for?"

"You remind me of someone," he said without taking his eyes
from her.

"Is that good or bad?"

"It is good, very good.  This woman is very special to me;
you look very much like her and seem to share the uncanny
ability to see things about me I thought hidden."

Mary was disgusted by the pure envy that flared up in her
soul at the mention of another woman in this man's life. She
hated that she would never be important to anyone and she
hated that she felt this way.  Sister Elizabeth had tried to
teach her not to be jealous and covetous but sometimes she
just couldn't control it.  Maybe it was God's way of
visiting her unknown parents' sins upon her.

A hand upon her chin brought her attention back to the
present and the young man in front of her.  He wore a look
upon his face that Mary couldn't quite identify.

"Where were you?" he asked when he saw he'd regained her
attention.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully.  He smiled sweetly
at her and she again felt what could almost be described as
a desire to trust him.

"You must pay attention if you want to know about me; I only
intend to tell it once," he said with another smile before
continuing.  "My mother was a lady in waiting to the late
queen; she wasn't married to my father.  After she died, I
was sent to live with a family in the country until about a
month ago when my father called me back to him."

Mary just watched him intently, hoping he'd tell her more.

"You know, I could charge you for picking those flowers," he
said after a moment.

"You--I--what?"  Terror and awareness coursed through her
body as she looked down to the flowers she'd forgotten
about.  They were small, pitiful little primroses, half-
wilted from the rain but she thought they were beautiful.

"This is my land, so I own those flowers.  I could charge
you for them."

"You wouldn't be able to get much, I don't have anything.
Here, take them, I don't need them."  Tears were welling up
in her eyes and Mary wished for a chance to get away from
Will before she lost control of them.  "I don't even want
them." She shoved them forcefully into the hand of his sore
arm and turned away quickly.  It was still raining but she
didn't care, she had to leave.  Maybe if she walked fast
enough she'd have time to change her clothes before 3:00.

"Mary!  Mary, wait, stop!  I was only joking!  Please don't
go!"  She glanced at him as he ran to catch up with her.  He
had no right to make fun of her like that.  "I'm sorry,
Mary. Please don't be angry."

"I have to go, I have to be somewhere."  She had no idea
what time it was and she'd need to put on different clothes
and how could she be so stupid as to think such a handsome
man would be the beggar he looked like?

"Are you angry with me?"  His voice sounded much smaller
than it had before.

"I don't know you well enough to be angry with you.
Goodbye."

"You can come here any time you like, Mary.  Please say you
will," he said as he took her arm, causing her to stop in
the pouring rain.  They stood quietly, looking at each other
for a few seconds before he gently took her hand and opened
it. Placing the flowers in her open palm, he clasped his
hands around hers, causing her hands to close around the
tiny stems.

~~~~~

"Ow!  You stupid little wench--that hurt!"

"I'm sorry, Madam, it won't happen again."  Sighing
inwardly, Mary prayed for the strength to endure this
torture.  She'd no more stuck Diana with the needle than
she'd sprouted a third eye.  She'd had a needle in her hand
since before she could read and write and she'd been taught
well by Sister Elizabeth.  She hadn't pricked anyone since
she was a small child.

"I want the gown to hang off my shoulders, like so," Diana
said as she moved the top of the material down past the
point of decency.

"Yes, miss."  It would fall down and expose her like that,
but it was no use arguing.  "Have you thought about what
kind of material you'd like to have?"

She was using an inexpensive material to take measurements
so it wouldn't have to be done as often.  She would work on
the actual gown in her spare time at the church, using the
cheap dress she was sewing now as a guide.

"I was thinking maybe dark green."  Mary had to fight to
keep from gagging.  Some people could pull off greens, but
Diana was definitely not one of them.

"I have some beautiful burgundy silk I've been saving that I
think would suit you perfectly.  It would set off your hair
and complexion--"

"No, I think green would be more attractive."  How petty
could one woman be?

"Yes, Lady Diana."  Again, it wasn't worth arguing.  If she
wanted to look like a big, shiny olive, it was no concern of
hers.

"After all," Diana continued.  "I know more about colors and
what suits me than you do.  If you had any sense, you would
*never* wear a gray that dark; it makes you look feverish."

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Mary moved to the hem
of the dress after motioning for Diana to step up on the
stool she'd brought for that purpose.  She thought it best
not to mention that the cause of her flushed face was anger.

"You should wear lighter colors.  With your orange hair and
pale skin, it's about the only choice you have."

"I think I'm about done here, if you'd like to look at the
fabrics I brought."  Smiling a smile she did not feel, Mary
helped the older woman down off the footstool.

"Have you any green silk?"

Mary groaned internally and sent another prayer skyward as
she sorted through the material.

~~~~~

"Father Stephen, what kind of man do you think I should
marry?" she asked during dinner.  To his credit, the old man
tried to suppress the look of surprise that came to his
face.

"Well, someone who cares about you and will treat you kindly
would be a good start, I think."

"Yes," she said thoughtfully.  "But what sort of person?"
she asked, hoping he'd understand she was referring to
stations in life and the people who occupied them.

"I'd recommend someone who'd be a good provider; whose
services would always be in demand, such as a shepherd," he
said with a nod as he picked at his food. That told her more
than anything else could have--Peter was a shepherd.

"Mary, what brought this up so suddenly?"

"I don't know.  I guess I just wondered.  Sister Elizabeth
never really talked about such things," she answered as she
avoided his gaze.

"She probably thought you'd know... when the right young man
came along," he said uncomfortably as he rose to clear his
dishes.

"I think she wanted me to join the convent," Mary confided
as she looked down at her plate.

"I think she would want you to do what you wanted," he said
as he moved to the door.  "Most of all though, you should
choose what will make you happy, my dear.  Goodnight," he
said as he left the room.

~~~~~

"You came back!  I didn't think you would after what
happened the other day."  Will's exuberance was a true
surprise to Mary.  She couldn't remember anyone ever being
that glad to see her before.  "I'm sorry I hurt your
feelings by telling you that lie, I--"

"Lie?"  It was no wonder she'd been so drained the other
time she'd met him here.  He took her on such a wild
emotional journey it was a wonder she had the ability to
walk home.

"Here, I picked you some more flowers, to make up for
yesterday," he said as he handed her a giant bouquet of
primroses.  The rain must've been good for them; they were
much prettier than the ones she'd picked.  In fact, the only
place she'd seen primroses as beautiful was the castle
grounds.

"You lied to me?" she asked in a demanding tone of voice
that was completely the opposite of how she felt.

"Yes," he said as he stared at his feet.  "I lied about
owning this land.  I'm sorry.  I was only joking."  He
raised his head and met her gaze with an open, apologetic
stare.  She didn't know how to respond to his admission, so
she chose to overlook it somewhat.

"How is your arm feeling today?  Is it still sore?"  She
couldn't look him in the eyes anymore; he could see too far
into her soul.

His arm was still clutched to his chest and he eyed her
warily as she moved closer to look at it.

"It's all right, I won't hurt you.  Sister Elizabeth taught
me all her remedies and I watched her care for people my
whole life. Your arm isn't the first broken bone I've ever
seen."

His nervousness eased a bit and he let her draw the shirt
sleeve up to his elbow after she handed him the flowers to
hold for her.  The skin of his forearm was yellow from a
healing bruise but the flesh was still swollen, just as she
had expected.

"It is some better, I think.  Thank you for asking," he said
as he tried to remove himself from her grasp.

"When I was a girl, a stable boy from the Hawthorne house
fell from the loft of a barn and broke the bone in his leg,"
she said as she examined his arm.  "I helped Sister
Elizabeth take care of him.  She was well known in town for
her healing abilities and I am more talented at it than she
was.  It was always something that fascinated me, but Sister
Elizabeth discouraged me.  She said that if I'd shown any
ability at it, the combination of that and my red hair would
have caused the townspeople to accuse me of witchcraft."

"You shouldn't have let that stop you," Will said softly.

"I brought a salve for you, to help the swelling," she said,
ignoring his words as she pulled the small pot out of her
pocket.  "Apply this at night and wash it off in the
morning."

"Why do I need to wash it off?  Will it burn my skin? Cause
a rash?"  He looked a bit scared.

"No, it smells bad."  She laughed with him as he opened the
jar and got a whiff of what she was talking about.

"I see what you mean.  I never saw doctors when I was a
child; I was taken care of at home."

Mary nodded her head understandingly as she put the lid back
on the little pot of salve.

"Did you make this yourself?"  He had that look on his face
again that Mary was beginning to realize meant he was
curious.

"Yes, I did," she answered with a smile.

"What do I owe you for your trouble?"

"You don't owe me anything--it's a gift.  I thought it was
the least I could do, since I made it out of the primroses
you gave me."

A glint of humor sparked to life in his eyes.  "But I told
you, I don't own this land."

"Not till just now, you didn't," she retorted.

"You should let me pay you, now that you know."  He pulled
two coins from his pocket and started to give them to her.
"This is all I have but--"

"No, I can't take your money!"  Maybe if she affected an
offended tone he'd drop it.  She felt giddy when he put the
coins back in his pocket.

"Well," he said as if he was almost afraid of what he wanted
to say.  "You could apply the salve for me, to make sure I
know how."  He smiled and she shook her uneasiness aside,
retreating inward to her thoughts.  It bothered her that she
was so relieved to see evidence of his poverty.  She knew
she shouldn't want anyone to be poor but it made it easier
to understand the comfort she felt with Will.

"Oh, that smells *really* bad," he said as she dabbed it on
his skin.

She laughed and went back to her task.

"Are you going to the ball they're holding at the palace?"
he asked after a few minutes of silence.

She looked up at him in surprise, wondering what made him
bring up that subject.

"No, no.  I don't think so."  Mary fervently hoped she'd
imagined the look of disappointment on his face.  "Are you?"

"Yes, unfortunately I have to.  My... my father is making
me.  I wish you were going."

"Why?" she asked with more than a little bit of awe.  She
couldn't imagine why he could want her to be there.

"So I'd have someone to talk to."

"Oh," she said with a small smile.

"I'd say we could dance, but I don't want to step on your
toes.  I'm a very bad dancer," he admitted as he stooped
over a bit to force her to look him in the eyes.  He seemed
to know all her thoughts, or maybe she was just terribly
transparent.

"You can't be that bad, surely," she teased as she gently
rubbed the salve onto his arm.

"Oh yes, I can.  I was always more interested in my studies
and horseback riding than things like dancing."

"I was too, actually, but dancing is fun.  How could you not
like it?"

"Maybe I just never had the right teacher," he said with a
short, throaty chuckle.

"Sister Elizabeth loved to dance; I guess her enthusiasm was
contagious.  I've never taught anyone to dance--you must let
me teach you!" she exclaimed, a bit of excitement creeping
into her voice.  She felt slightly foolish but she knew she
could make him enjoy it.

He grinned and laughed with her.  "I don't know.  If I have
to dance at this ball, I should be able to dance with
whomever I please."  She must've given him a strange look,
since he went on to explain.  "I want to dance with *you*,
not every old maid, widow and giggling girl in the county."

"I could be called an old maid too, you know," she said
while cursing her fair skin that blushed too easily.

"Ah, yes, I have the solution," he said as he took her hand
and drew her to a clearing.  "I will let you teach me to
dance, but only if you come to the ball and dance every
dance with me."

Mary froze where she stood with her hand around his back. He
was very close, too close.  She wanted to go even though she
knew how insane it was; he was a bad influence on her.

"No, I, it's impossible," she said as they started dancing
slowly.

"Never mind that--do you *want* to go?"

"If you want--"

"No, what do *you* want?  Not what I want, not what's
expected of you--what you want.  You can think for yourself,
Mary, so do it."

This was a new experience for her.  She'd always had someone
telling her what to do and how to do it.

"I, um, I don't know what I want," she said as she noticed
that they'd been dancing the past few minutes with no mashed
feet.  "I don't think you need lessons at all!" she said
with a tone of mock-accusation.

"No, it's just because you're such a talented dancer.  I'll
trample anyone else unless you teach me better."

She laughed with him as she picked up the pace a little.

"Please, say you'll come," he said with a note of pleading
in his voice.  She should've known he wouldn't let her evade
his question.

"I'll do the best I can.  I have a lot of work and then I'd
have to make myself a dress...."

"I really hope you can find a way," he said with a smile.

The sun was shining down on them through the trees and Mary
realized just how handsome Will was.  His eyes were a merry
shade of green and his brown hair shone like spun gold in
the light.  She couldn't help the smile that found its way
to her face--she felt genuinely happy for the first time in
her memory.

On her walk home, she was barely aware of her surroundings,
she was thinking so deeply.  It was crazy of her to care for
someone she'd known for such a short period of time, but she
felt a connection with Will she couldn't explain.  Maybe
this was what Father Stephen had meant when he said she'd
know when the right man came along.

The sad part was that she couldn't imagine ever feeling so
content with anyone else.  Mary began to imagine a life with
Will.  They'd have that brood of red-haired children and a
too-small house and Will would kiss her on the cheek when he
returned home from....

She made a mental note to ask him what he did for a living
the next time she saw him.

~~~~~

The rich smell of the earth she was turning over was almost
as intoxicating as the beautiful day that surrounded her.
The day had ended in a pink blush dusk and a gentle breeze
was rustling the trees that surrounded the church. The deep,
dark soil contrasted nicely with the vibrant green of the
grass.  There was a little rabbit doing its best to hide
over by the fence, watching her as she planted carrots and
peas.  This was her second planting this season and she'd
lost half of her crop to the same thieving rabbit. Peter had
offered to kill it for her, but she didn't have the heart.
She was planting more this time, in the hopes that the
rabbit would be as generous with her as she was with it.

Working in the garden usually seemed like a chore to her,
but on this gorgeous evening it was a treat.  Not only was
she enjoying being outside, but also the respite from her
troubling thoughts.  The desire to go to the ball was
starting to overpower her common sense.  She knew how stupid
it was of her to want to go, but the opportunity to see Will
in public, dance with him, have fun, was more than all her
intelligence could argue against.  The irony of digging in
the dirt while dreaming of being in the palace didn't escape
her, she just chose not to think about that either.  She was
getting good at avoiding the things that bothered her
lately.

She thought about the dress she'd make if she could.  The
bodice would be low-cut but not enough to make her feel
exposed.  The sleeves would have just the slightest puff at
the top, as was the latest style.  She'd do something
different with the skirt than she'd ever done before though.
Where all of the other dresses she was making for the ball
had a high, gathered waist, she'd leave hers almost
straight.  There'd only be a couple of pleats at the front
and several at the back.  It would cause the skirt to cling
to her hips, which would have the effect of slimming and
lengthening her torso, making her appear taller.

A gust of wind blew through then, blowing her hair into her
face.  She stopped turning the dirt over the seeds she was
planting, resting as she watched the rabbit hop away.
Suddenly the night seemed ominous and full of strange animal
and bird sounds.  It spoke to her of things that were
changing and things that were past and things that should
have been.

It was almost frightening, but not quite.  She'd never known
anything but the church and the village, but she wasn't
afraid of leaving them behind.  She was eager to see new
things and places, meet new people.  She'd been living a lie
all of her life--it wasn't her nature to be meek and
fearful.  She wasn't afraid of what was going to happen, she
wasn't going to fall apart if someone said  or did something
mean to her.

She knew all of this because, looking around at the
twilight-heavy world, she felt free for the first time in
her life.  All her fears and inhibitions fell away, leaving
her with a shiny, new soul that knew what she wanted and
wasn't afraid to go after it.  She might not get it, but it
wasn't going to be because she didn't try.

~~~~~

"How could anyone be so stupid?  This is not even close to
what I wanted.  I don't like this at all.  The shoulders are
all wrong and the sleeves are too tight and look at this,
this waist is puckered!"

"Yes, miss.  I can change it, just show me how you'd like
it."  Mary was swiftly deciding that these fitting sessions
were going to be the death of her.

"I want the shoulders to come down here, like this."  Diana
tugged at the seams till Mary was sure they'd burst.  "Then
I want the sleeves to be looser, here, like the dress Lady
Rebecca is wearing."  The blonde woman preened at the
mention of her name.  "And the waist shouldn't be so tight;
I don't understand how you got your measurement so
desperately wrong."

It was probably best not to mention that Diana had gained at
least 10 pounds in a week and a half, Mary decided as she
went to work with her needle and thread, trying her best to
keep the dress close to where she wanted it while keeping it
from falling down. The money she was earning by making this
dress was going to pay for her own ball gown.  She'd seen a
beautiful green muslin at the mercantile that evening, but
it was more expensive than any material she'd ever bought
for herself.

"I've heard, Diana, that the new prince is very handsome.
That wouldn't have anything to do with your desire for such
a becoming new frock, now would it?" Rebecca asked in a
venomous monotone.

"No, my dear, if I had wanted to impress anyone I'd have
engaged Rose McBroom to make my gown."

Mary considered sticking the odious woman with a pin then,
but decided that Diana would probably kick her like an old,
fussy mare.

"I'm going to wear the ivory gown I had made for the
Christmas ball that I didn't get to wear.  That is the
loveliest frock I've had since I was a child."  Mary took
heart in the unintentional compliment; she'd made the gown
which Lady Rebecca spoke of.

"Yes, that color suited you wonderfully," Diana agreed. "Can
you believe that Mary wanted me to have a burgundy dress
made?" she said with a laugh, which Rebecca joined her in.
"I mean, look at that shade of blue she's wearing now and
tell me you'd take her word on what color you should wear!"

Humiliation and shame filled Mary's entire body till she
burned with it.  She had just been trying to help the stupid
woman look her best and this was what she got for it.  The
red-hot horror she felt suddenly turned to icy rage as she
realized she didn't deserve such treatment.  She was a
caring person--more so than Diana and Rebecca combined--and
she'd done nothing wrong.

'You can think for yourself, Mary, so do it,' Will's words
came back to haunt her, along with the feeling of freedom
she'd felt the day before while digging in the earth.
Whether she got to go to the ball or not, she couldn't take
another moment of letting herself be treated in such a way.

"If you weren't such a stupid, foolish cow of a woman you'd
take my word on the color of this dress, *Milady*," she said
in a voice so calm and cool it scared even herself. Both
women froze where they were and turned to stare at her.  A
sudden dip in her level of courage rapidly followed her
outburst, but she knew that if she was going to stand up for
herself she'd have to do it right.  "You will look like a
great watermelon in the green you chose and I don't care
enough to set you straight on the matter."

"I have never....  How dare you come here to my house and
speak to me in such a way?  You are nothing but a foundling;
if you hadn't been taken in by the church you'd be begging
on the streets right now!  That is where you very well may
be when I tell Father Stephen the way you've acted here
today!  Get out, right now!  I'll have Rose McBroom fashion
a dress for me and maybe I'll actually get what I want this
time instead of the half-effort you give everything!"

Diana went on ranting but Mary was out the front door
already, having slowed only to gather her sewing supplies.

~~~~~

Mary tried not to run while she was in town but as soon as
she was where no one would see her, she gave into her
roiling emotions.  Her legs pumped up and down and she could
feel every bump, every rock, every rut in the hard road. Her
dress made it hard to move but she just pulled it up out of
her way and hoped no one saw her with her skirts hiked up so
high that her knees were exposed.  Her face was hot with
anger and exertion and fear and she thought she just might
die before she could reach her destination of the field on
the edge of town.

She knew it was unfair of her to expect Will to drop
everything and stay out here in the middle of nowhere but
she looked around for him as she stopped and tried to catch
her breath.  She needed someone to talk to and he was the
only person she knew who might possibly understand what
she'd done.  Father Stephen would tell her she should have
kept quiet and he would probably be right.  Martha would
chide her for forgetting her place in life, though Mary
really had no idea what that was--she was neither a servant
nor a lady.  Sister Elizabeth would simply have scolded her
for losing her temper before soothing her hurt feelings.

"What are you thinking?" the voice startled her from her
misery and sorrow.  Will stood by a tree in much the same
position he'd been in the first time she'd seen him.

"I was missing Sister Elizabeth," she explained after
whirling around to face him.  "I've had a very terrible day
and she would have comforted me even though I've behaved
like a spoiled child."

He smiled sympathetically.  "You can talk to me, if you
like.  I'll do my best to help you, though I probably am not
as efficient as your Sister Elizabeth."

Mary returned his smile silently and wondered how she could
be so full of contradictions.  Here sat a wonderful man in
front of her, offering just the friendship she had so
desired and now she felt reluctant to talk to him.  Maybe it
was a bit of leftover nervousness due to the fact that she
still didn't really know him.  It was more likely though,
she thought, that she was afraid he wouldn't like her as
well when he knew how awful she'd been.

"Here, this is for you," he said as he started to put
something in her hair.

"What is it?" she asked as she caught his hand.

"It's a comb," he said as he showed her a small wooden hair
comb with a primrose carved into the top of it.

"It's absolutely beautiful but I can't accept it; this must
have cost a fortune."

"No!  I made it, to be honest with you.  All it cost me was
a few hours' work."  He spoke as if he were ashamed of the
fact that he hadn't paid money for it.  She thought for a
moment, choosing her words carefully before she spoke.

"Thank you very much; it means more to me to know that you
made it than it would have if you'd bought it," she told him
as she looked him in the eyes and put the comb in her hair.
He smiled happily at her.

"So, would you like to tell me what upset you?" he asked
softly as he sat on the ground and pulled her by the hand to
join him.  She hesitated for a moment, having trouble
remembering what had caused her bad mood; it wasn't everyday
she got gifts, especially ones as sweet as something made
specifically for her.

"I know, I know.  That's not the problem, really.  I want to
talk to you, I just don't know where to start. Everything's
just such a mess."

"Just start at the beginning.  Tell me where you were, what
you were doing."

"I was at Lady Diana's, fitting her for her gown for the
ball."  Surely he didn't just cringe when she said that
name; that was just wishful thinking on her part.  "She was
being mean to me, insulting me and my sewing.  I decided I
didn't deserve to be treated like that and I called her a
cow and told her she was going to look like a watermelon in
her green dress and....  What?  What's so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing, go on," he said while trying to swallow
another chuckle.

"That was about it.  I grabbed my things and left while she
was still yelling at me."  She looked at Will to find the
strangest expression on his face.  He looked like he was
about to cry, he needed to laugh so badly.  She suddenly had
a clear picture of the whole thing and realized that it was
funny.  She'd said things to Lady Diana that she hadn't
really given a voice to in her mind.  A watermelon....

They were both doubled over, consumed by raucous laughter
for several minutes before they finally had to stop and wipe
their eyes.  Mary had laughed so hard her stomach hurt and
she had a feeling Will was in the same shape as his mirth
was replaced by seriousness.

"I think you're over-reacting.  Diana won't tell any of the
things you said because they're true.  Just try to relax and
be calm.  In my opinion, the worst that's going to happen is
that she won't hire you to sew for her anymore."

"You really think so?"

"Yes, yes I do," he assured her.

"That was the only chance I had to make enough money to make
a gown for the ball," she said quietly.  "I wanted to go, I
wanted to dance with you."

"We can dance here," he said as he moved close enough for
their shoulders to touch.

They didn't speak for some time while Mary calmed down. They
watched the sun die over the field in a golden liquid sunset
and moonlight replace the twilight.  She'd never been here
after dark before; it was achingly beautiful and it made her
love the area even more.  After a while though, she
remembered that she wasn't free to do as she wanted.

"Oh!  It's late!  Father Stephen is going to think something
has happened to me!"

"Do you have to go?"  He looked disappointed.

"Yes, I'm afraid so.  I wish it were different, but I have
responsibilities."

"It's late; I should walk you home."

"Nonsense, I'll be fine," she said though she was actually a
bit unnerved by the thought of walking home alone in the
dark.

"No, I insist.  It's not really safe for you to walk out
here alone in the daylight.  There's no way I'm going to let
you attempt it at night."

"All right.  Does that make it farther for you to walk?  I
hate to put you to so much trouble."

"It's no trouble and--as you told me once--I like to walk,"
he said with a grin as he got up off the ground and offered
to help her up.

"Thank you very much," she said as she took his hand.

"So, who is Sister Elizabeth?" he asked as they came to the
road that led to town.

She tried to ignore the flutter of excitement in her belly
that started when he didn't turn her hand loose as they
started walking.  "Oh no you don't!  I'm not answering
anymore of your questions until you tell me more about
yourself." Her mood had improved enough that she felt like
joking.

"Ah, do I have to?"  His face contorted into a playful
grimace.

"Yes, if you want to know anything else about me."

"Oh, very well.  I guess it's a worthwhile exchange.  What
do you want to know?"

Her mind was so full of questions that Mary couldn't think
of any good ones.

"Well....  I guess you could start with where you grew up."

"In a little village about twenty miles from here that I'm
sure you've never heard of."

"What do you do for a living?"

"Not until you answer my question."

"What question was that?" she asked in the hope that he
would have forgotten.

"Sister Elizabeth," he reminded her.

"Oh yes.  She was a nun at the church and the closest thing
to a mother I ever knew."

"She's passed on?"

"Yes," Mary answered softly.  "It's been more than a year
now.  Now tell me about your life."

"It's a rather long, complicated story.  Are you sure you
want to hear it?"

"Very sure," she answered as she nodded.

"All right, but you can't say I didn't warn you.  I grew up
in Tisbury; I've already told you that my mother left me in
the care of a family there.  I studied to be a schoolteacher
and learned practically everything I know from three
exceedingly strange men whom I called uncles, though they're
no relation to me. They were forced from town when the
townspeople didn't understand how they were able to save a
child who was choking to death.  That child happened to be
me, by the way.

"My father sent for me to come live with him about a month
ago," he continued with a note of anger in his voice. Mary
was quiet in the hopes that he would keep speaking. "I don't
remember much about him and it feels like I'm living with a
stranger."

"I love teaching, I love the country and I hate this town.
I'd much rather go back there and struggle to make ends meet
than live here with my father.  He is... a very wealthy old
man who is more interested in an heir than whether that heir
is happy or not," he finished.  The fury in Will's voice had
become more pronounced with every breath he'd taken.

"Goodness, that is a bit complex."  Mary was stunned. That
explained why he had such a good education but dressed like
a pauper.

Will grinned in reply as he looked around and the wind
tousled the hair on his forehead.  They had reached the
church and the back door she always entered through.  Before
she had a chance to react it was thrown open and warm light
spilled out, making the bright night seem dark.

"Mary!  There you are!  You've had me worried to death,
child--"  Father Stephen's voice seemed very loud in the
quiet evening.  "Oh, I didn't realize you had company.
Please, come in, Peter--"

She started to protest but Will was already stepping into
the church as if it was an everyday occurrence.  Suddenly
the air in the small room took on a charge that caused
Mary's hair to stand on end.

"Your Highness....  I had no idea....  Mary didn't say
anything...."

"She didn't know, I am sure," Will said as he stared at her
with a look of pure misery on his face.  "I just wanted to
make sure she got home all right; I should be going now.
Goodnight, Father.  Mary."

"Goodnight, Your Highness.  Thank you for seeing Mary home,"
Father Stephen said as he bowed.

Mary found she couldn't speak or move as Will left and
Father Stephen closed the door behind him.  It was nearly
more than she could cope with after everything that had
happened to her today.  He had lied to her again.

"Mary!  What in Heaven's name--how did you meet the Prince?"

"Prince?"  Finally her voice found its way back to her and
she looked up to meet the familiar eyes of the old priest,
now lit up with an unfamiliar fire.

"Yes!  That's the new heir to the throne.  Have you not
heard the gossip?" he said incredulously.

"Yes, I heard, I just had no reason to connect the two."

"How did you meet him--you do remember the morals Sister
Elizabeth and I taught you?  You'd never do anything to
compromise the things you've been taught, even if he is a
prince, would you?"

"Of course I wouldn't."  A note of irritation crept into her
voice.  "It was never even a possibility though; he treated
me with the highest respect at all times."

"How long has this been going on, Mary?  Is this why you
behaved like you did at Lady Diana's today?"

"No!  What would Will have had to do with that?"

"Something made you act the way you did," he said in a tone
she'd never heard before.  Everything about him was
different.  He wasn't seeing her as the penniless foundling
he'd raised to be meek and subservient anymore.  He was
seeing her as a woman with a mind of her own for the first
time.  With that heady knowledge commanding her thoughts,
Mary excused herself without explaining anything and made
her way to bed.

~~~~~

"Father Stephen, you were the one who found me on the steps
of the church, weren't you?" Mary asked while mopping the
floor.

"Yes, child, I was.  Why do you ask?"

"I just wondered how I came to be there, if maybe you saw
who left me."

"No, I didn't *see* anyone, but I always had a few
suspicions."  Mary forgot her task momentarily, her
attention riveted on Father Stephen, who polished the silver
in an attempt to help her with her chores.

"What?  Tell me, Father, please?"  He glanced up at her as
if to try and gauge her ability to deal with such a weighty
subject.  She stupidly wanted to throw a tantrum to express
her outrage at being treated like a child who wouldn't
understand serious subject matter.

"For a few months before you were found, there had been
gypsies camping in the woods outside of town.  I always
figured that one of them, perhaps a woman who had lost her
own baby, stole you and then left you here.  Possibly she
found caring for an infant more difficult than she'd
anticipated."

"Wouldn't you have known of any stolen babies?"

"Not if you weren't stolen in this town.  Gypsies roam
nearly all the time, you know, my dear.  Maybe they stole
you somewhere else and then moved here," he theorized.

She felt a bit sick, thinking how possible it was that he
was correct.  She could have a family living in the next
village over.  Brothers and sisters, a mother and father,
grandparents, even.

"I'll finish up in here, Mary.  Why don't you go work on
your sewing."  She glanced down to see great dry spots she'd
missed with the mop in her preoccupation.  Looking back up
to meet the priest's eyes, she saw nothing but compassion
there and felt tears spring to her eyes.  She'd been raised
by some of the kindest people in the world and yet she was
thinking of how she could get away from them.

"Thank you, Father, that won't be necessary.  I'll be
finished as soon as I go back and get the areas I
neglected." She smiled a guilty smile at him as he nodded
and moved past her to go about his other tasks.  She owed it
to him to at least help around the church before she went to
her own work.  She'd been in a bad mood for the two days
since she'd learned Will's true identity and had taken it
out on everyone around her, including Father Stephen.

Also, in what she thought to be a strange but interesting
turn of events, Mary had gotten more requests to make gowns
after the Diana incident.  She wondered if she'd have gotten
as much work before if she hadn't been employed by the
disagreeable woman.  Sadly enough, now that she had enough
money to afford a ball gown, she had no desire to go to the
ball.  That had died a horrible death the night she'd cried
herself to sleep after learning Will's true identity.

As she went to the little room in the back of the church
that she slept in, Mary thought about Will, whether he was
still going to the field and if he was looking for her
there.  She hadn't been back since the night he'd walked her
home and she didn't intend to go anytime soon.  Pulling her
sewing out, she found a book on top of everything.  It was a
slightly old book; the title was worn off the spine and
there were hand-written notes through the whole thing.  It
was a book about plants and vegetables and their healing
properties.  As she turned the pages, a pressed primrose
fell out into her lap.  There were more flowers in the book,
but most of them were on the page that described
watermelons.

She'd only known him for a few weeks, but she missed Will
already.  She'd never had any real friends before; her
situation in life had kept her from having much contact with
people her age. She'd been taught by Sister Elizabeth in the
church and she'd worked from the time she was old enough.

It was strange to Mary that she'd become so attached to Will
in so short a period of time.  It seemed hard to go back to
being alone once she had tasted companionship. She didn't
like depending upon another person for completion though.
Mary didn't want to need anyone--she wanted to be able to
find happiness within herself.

How did one know if such a thing were possible--how did they
know what would make them happy?  How did they know when
they found it?  What if there wasn't anything in her life
that was what she needed?

For the first time in her life, Mary was scared--really
scared.  She had no future and no idea how to make one for
herself.  She had few talents, even fewer abilities and no
prospects for marriage unless she decided to settle for
Peter the shepherd.  Sighing at her depressing thoughts, she
put the book away and started working on the finishing
touches of silver trim for April Morgan's dress in an
attempt to control her thoughts.

A gorgeous blue dress with a dusty rose underskirt, it was
one of the prettiest dresses she'd ever made, especially
considering that it'd only taken her a week in which to do
it.  Next in line was Sarah Finch's gray velvet dress, so
she picked that up to work on as she thought about her
upbringing.  Sister Elizabeth had raised her to live like a
nun.  It was a simple way of life but it pleased Mary.

With a start she realized that this was the answer--this was
the solution for her.  This was a way for her to do
something with her life and get away from the things that
made her so unhappy.  Sister Elizabeth had talked to her
about joining her convent when she'd turned 16; she hadn't
been interested then but she was sure she'd still be
accepted now, three years later.  She could devote her life
to God and the church and give her life some meaning.

~~~~~

She'd been busy all week, making preparations for moving.
She wouldn't need to take much with her, but she had to do
something with her few belongings, she had to find someone
to help around the church once she was gone and she had to
avoid Peter at all costs.  She didn't want to have to
explain anything to him.  One more hint of disapproval and
she'd surely go mad.  She'd been finding primroses around
the church for days, but they'd stopped suddenly a few days
after she'd told Father Stephen about the convent.  She
supposed it had taken that long for the gossip to get around
to... whomever was leaving them.

Father Stephen seemed as though he thought she was
overreacting, but he wasn't telling her not to join the
convent.  She'd told him she wanted to do some good in the
world, be of some use, but he just tilted his head so that
the light glinted off of his spectacles.  It hurt her to
know that he didn't approve of her choice--especially
considering that he was a religious man--but she was
satisfied by it and that was all that mattered.

Strangely enough, people had started treating her
differently as the word got out.  Mary couldn't decide if
the new respect being given her was because she'd chosen to
become a nun or if maybe she carried herself differently.
She would only be treated as well as she demanded and lately
she was demanding better.  She felt important, substantial,
full of purpose and completely miserable.  It was one thing
to find something that filled your life and quite another to
find something that filled your life with happiness.

~~~~~

"Mary, may I come in please?" Father Stephen asked through
her door.

"Yes, Father, of course," she said as she set Ana Reeves'
dark blue satin dress aside.  The old priest shuffled in
clutching a parcel to his chest.  Her curiosity was
instantly piqued when it became obvious that he was terribly
excited about something.

"Mary, I happened upon this and I thought you might find a
use for it."  With that he handed her the package and
gestured for her to open it.

"What is it?"

"Open it and see," he answered with a sigh of impatience.
Inside the plain brown paper was the most stunning fabric
Mary had ever seen.  It was the color of midnight but it
shone like moonlight.

"Father, I can't afford this."

"Do you see me asking anything for it?  It's a gift," he
said while trying to hide a smile under his gruff demeanor.

"I can't accept this though; it's too much," she said with
astonishment.

"Nonsense.  You like it, don't you?"

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."  Tears she
wanted to hide were beginning to collect in her eyes.

"Very well, then.  When you get done with the ball gown
you're working on, you can start on one for yourself.

She almost didn't catch what he said as she was wrapping the
material back up.

"What did you say?"

"I said you can use this for your own ball gown.  You
haven't already started one, have you?"

"No, no.  I'm not making one for myself.  I'm not going to
the ball."

"Why not, child?  You have plenty of time to get it finished
if you work hard and that's something I know you're not
afraid of."

Suddenly a terrible inclination to be honest with the man
overtook her.  "I just don't belong at a ball, Father.  I'd
feel out of place at the palace."

"Mary, my dear, you belong anywhere you wish to belong.
Don't let anything--or any*one*--convince you otherwise. You
are young, you've had a difficult life, you should make some
good memories before you join the convent if that's what you
still want to do.

"You know, I always pictured you married and with a large,
happy family," Father Stephen said quietly.  Mary met his
gaze in an effort to draw more from him.  "I want for you to
be happy, Mary and there are more possibilities than you
think.  Just because you can't be with the person you want
doesn't mean you'll be alone."  He bowed his head and
turned, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

He was referring to Peter again, she knew.  Before Will,
she'd probably have been satisfied with someone who cared
about her.  Now she wanted someone she felt passionate
about.

She still hadn't spoken to Peter about her decision.  He'd
be hurt by her behavior and she didn't want that.

Mary hadn't really considered the ball with her new mind
set, either.  It would be a good chance for her to say
goodbye to Peter and a few other friends and it'd be a last
chance to see Will.  She could realize her dream of seeing
the palace and the king.  She could make herself a beautiful
dress and feel confident that she looked pretty. It was a
chance to tie up a lot of loose ends before she started a
new chapter in her life.

Unfortunately, making up her mind didn't help keep her from
feeling the butterflies that had already started fluttering
around in her stomach.  She draped the gorgeous material up
over her shoulders and wondered how on earth a priest had
known to pick something that suited her so well.  The deep
blue shade set off both her hair and eyes and leant her
ivory skin a rosy glow.  Now she had to figure out what she
wanted the dress to look like.  She had the ball gown she'd
dreamt of in the garden memorized; maybe she'd try that.

It rather disgusted her how excited she was about going to
this ball.  She'd probably only be asked to dance by Peter,
but it would be exciting to see all the other townspeople in
their finery.  She'd get to see the king up close for the
first time and Will would be there.  He'd be dressed in his
nice clothes and he'd dance with all the beautiful young
women in the town and never look at her.  She was stupid for
believing his lies, for believing that he could find her
interesting.

Shaking those thoughts out of her head, she took out her
thread and needle and got to work.  She only had a week in
which to create a spectacular dress out of the blue material
Father Stephen had given her.

~~~~~

The morning of the ball dawned gray and disgusting in a way
that reminded Mary of the day she'd met Will.  It suited the
mood she was in perfectly, including the wind that tore
around like something terrified.  She was more nervous than
she'd anticipated and it made her angry at herself. She
didn't want to be afraid of anything anymore.  She'd had
enough of that in her life already.

She left her bed and dressed, determined to go about as she
normally would, refusing to let her emotions rule her life.
The church needed to be dusted, swept and mopped and Martha
would definitely need help in the kitchen.

Mary heard Father Stephen humming to himself before she saw
him in the chapel.  When he did come into sight she couldn't
believe what she saw.  He was doing her chores and had
already almost finished mopping the floor. She hadn't seen
him do these things since she was a child.

"What are you doing here, Mary?  As glad as I am to see your
lovely face this morning, you should be preparing for the
ball.  I'm sure you still have plenty of last-minute things
that need to be taken care of."

"No, I don't have anything that needs to be done except
this," she said through the fog of shock that surrounded
her.

"I think Martha wants to help you get ready. She's probably
in the kitchen; why don't you see if you can find her?" he
said as he checked the floor for any spots he'd missed.

"I don't need any help getting ready, Father--and the ball
isn't till this evening.  I have plenty of time to do my
usual tasks before I get ready."

Father Stephen stood the mop up against the wall before
walking over to her.  "Mary, just because I've been a man of
the Church for most of my life doesn't mean I've never been
around women.  I know there are numerous rituals you need to
do before you feel presentable for something like the ball.
Go and do those things, enjoy pampering yourself--and let
Martha help you.  She's more excited than you seem to be."

She wondered if it was so terrible to accept a kindness when
it was offered.  Mary didn't think it was, not when it made
someone else so happy.  She smiled at Father Stephen as she
thanked him and went to find Martha.

~~~~~

"Are you nervous, miss?" Martha asked as she held the towel
up for Mary as she stepped out of the bath.

"A little bit," she answered when she remembered it was
required of her.  She was having trouble believing she'd
just been called 'miss'.

"I used to dream of going to the palace when I was younger.
I never got to go though."

"I'm sure it will be a lot less exciting than everyone
thinks it will be."

"Are you going to let me see your dress, miss?"

Mary decided she'd love to know what the kitchen gossip was
saying to make Martha treat her with such respect.

"I'd be glad to show it to you but would you care to help me
with my hair first please?"

"Of course I will, miss.  I've always wanted to get my hands
on your hair.  Mine has always been straight as a stick;
you're lucky yours has such nice curl to it."

"Thank you, Martha," Mary said, genuinely pleased at the
compliment.  "It gets a bit annoying sometimes though, I
must admit."

"You're going to look so pretty--I can't wait for everyone
to see you.  I just wish I could see their faces when you
walk into the room.  Lady Diana will simply die of
jealousy."

"Lady Diana?  Jealous of *me*?"

"Oh yes, miss.  Lydia was here this morning saying that her
ladyship was not happy with the dress Rose McBroom made for
her.  She tried it on yesterday for the final fitting and
split the seams under both arms trying to lace it up."

As much as she tried, Mary couldn't stifle the giggle that
such an image brought to her.

"She's been visiting the palace regularly where she
apparently heard the new prince mention that he liked to see
a woman with a healthy appetite.  Apparently Lady Diana's
been trying very hard to make Prince William like her. Lydia
said she's had to have all of her dresses let out in the
past three weeks."

Mary lost sight of all the humor in the situation when
Martha mentioned 'Prince William'.  It was more than she
could comprehend--Will and Prince William were the same
person.

"What's the matter, Mary?  You look like someone walked over
your grave."

"Nothing, nothing, thank you.  I'm fine."

"Last minute jitters, eh?  I'd be scared out of my wits if I
were you."

"No, I'm all right," she said as she attempted to smile.

"Well, I think I'm done with your hair and I must say it
looks beautiful," Martha said as she returned the smile.

Thankful for the change of subject, Mary looked into the
small mirror Martha put into her hands.  Her hair was pulled
back from her face in numerous twists which came together at
the top of her head, where Martha had put the hand-carved
comb Will had given her.  From there it joined the rest of
her hair to cascade in perfectly formed curls down her back.
Some of the more stubborn, short curls were already escaping
to gather around her face, but the effect was altogether
pleasing.  She wasn't sure how she felt about the comb; she
hadn't worn it since the day Will had given it to her.  It
did look awfully pretty though, so she decided to make an
exception.  They'd cut her hair off at the convent anyway.

"Martha!  My hair has never looked so wonderful! How can I
ever thank you?"

"You can go put that gorgeous dress on and let me see how
you look," the older woman said with obvious pleasure.  "I'm
dying to see what kind of frock you made for yourself.  I
know you'll be wearing the prettiest one at the ball."

~~~~~

"Do you really think it looks nice?" she asked Martha,
hating the note of neediness that crept into her voice.

"Oh yes, miss.  You look beautiful.  You truly outdid
yourself with that gown--it's absolutely breathtaking.  It
makes you look so much taller than you are."  Mary blushed
at the praise but the expression on Martha's face caused her
heart to beat faster.  She looked jealous.

Warmth, affection and guilt  filled Mary's heart as she saw
the other woman smooth her hands across the rough weave of
her homespun dress.  She couldn't possibly be much more than
ten years older than Mary, but Martha had worked so hard all
of her life that she appeared much older than her 30 years.
She wasn't exactly a pretty woman, but her plain features
were appealing in their open friendliness.

"Martha!" she said excitedly; she'd had a most brilliant
idea.  "How do you feel about green silk?"

"Well, I love green and silk is a gorgeous material, though
I've never gotten to wear it.  Why do you ask?"

"I don't want to go to the ball by myself, that's all."
Martha's face was a study in confusion.  "I have the dress I
started for Lady Diana--I think it would look perfect on
you."

"Oh no, miss.  I couldn't possibly," she said as she shook
her head.

"That's what I said, too," Mary replied as she grinned and
dragged Martha by the hand.

~~~~~

"The dress is finished, I just never got around to adding
any kind of decoration.

"That's good though--I'm so plain I'd disappear in a fancy
dress.  Besides, I don't have the same taste for frills and
lace that her ladyship does," Martha said with a twinkle in
her eyes as Mary finished lacing the back of the dress.

She had to agree with her; the clean, simple lines of the
gown suited Martha perfectly and made her look years
younger.

"That's it--it fits you perfectly, so you have to come with
me."

"Oh, Mary, I don't know if I have the nerve.  And I don't
have the money to pay you for this dress."

"Consider it a gift--shhh," she hushed Martha's objections.
"After all, the material for my gown was a gift to me and I
know Father Stephen had to have had some help."

"I don't know how to thank you, miss," Martha said as she
wiped tears from her eyes.

"Well, you can start by not calling me 'miss' anymore! Now
come along, it's my turn to fix your hair."

~~~~~

Her first thought was that the loudness of the music was
going to deafen everyone in the county and that was before
she'd even gotten a mile from the church.  Martha was
clutching her hand as if it was all that kept her from
falling off the earth, yet they didn't speak.  There were
people milling about everywhere, carriages dropping off
guests at the entrance and dancers out on the lawn.  Mary
thought she'd never seen so many people in her life.
Everyone they passed gave them more than a glance and she
wondered if this was a good or a bad thing.

Ashamed of her fear, she set her shoulders, grasped Martha's
hand even tighter and headed for the door to the palace.
Since it was an open event, they were able to walk in
without bringing any kind of attention to themselves, which
Mary thanked the heavens for.  It gave her a chance to look
around at everything without anyone looking back at her.

There were even more people inside than out, though she
didn't understand how it was possible.  She had no idea
there were this many people in the kingdom, let alone how
they were all fitting into this one building.  Everyone was
dressed beautifully in rich, vibrant colors which seemed to
compliment each other.  Light sparkled merrily off of every
dress and bauble in the room, making everything seem as if
it had its own light source.  Mary recognized quite a few
gowns she had made and stopped for a moment to compare them
to the others.  She wondered if it was conceited of her to
think the ones she'd made were prettier than the others.

Just then the music changed from a vivacious dance- worthy
tune to a slower one.  Apparently this was some sort of
signal for the dancers to seek refreshments, as they all
stopped and left the floor at the same time.  Martha
whispered something in her ear about Earl, leaving Mary in a
daze as she tried to figure out what to do next.  She found
herself standing on the edge of the dance floor staring
straight into the eyes of Will, who stood on the other side
of the room.

He looked unbelievably handsome in his official garb--
especially since Mary thought him attractive in his beggar's
rags.  Other than the spark that had lit up in his eyes once
they'd met hers, he looked completely miserable.  The dark
smudges under his eyes seemed at odds with his neat hair and
the white jacket he wore.

The next thing she knew, the lively music had resumed and
the revellers were once again gathering on the floor. She
lost sight of Will just before she felt a touch at her
elbow.

"Hallo, Mary.  Would you care to dance?"

"Hello, Peter.  Yes, thank you, I'd love to dance."

It was probably the only chance she'd have to dance all
night, she thought as she forced herself not to look for
Will in the crowd.  Peter was a nice young man, he deserved
her undivided attention.  She just hoped he didn't expect
her to actually carry on a conversation.

"You look especially beautiful tonight, if you don't mind me
saying so."

"Thank you," she said with a fierce blush even as she
couldn't hide a smile.  She'd worked hard on her gown and it
made her feel like it'd been worth the effort.

"Exciting, isn't it?" he asked shyly.

"Yes, very much so.  I never thought I'd get a chance to do
anything like this," she answered as she wondered what was
wrong with her that she couldn't look at a man like Peter
and see a happy future.  He wasn't the most handsome man
Mary had ever seen, but he was by no means ugly.  He wasn't
very tall and his hair was too light colored, but other than
that he was quite attractive.

With a shock she realized that she'd forfeited all her
rights to a happy future with any man.  She was well on her
way to becoming a nun.  She'd made her decision; it was too
late to be thinking of things like marriage and families.
"What's the matter, Mary?  Are you all right?  Would you
like something to drink?"  Apparently her face was betraying
her thoughts.

"No, thank you.  I just realized that this time next month
I'll be at the convent."

His face fell with her words.  "So it's true then."

"Yes.  I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she answered as
she prayed that he'd drop the subject.  She worried when he
seemed hurt, so she moved to dance a bit closer to him. It
wasn't much, she knew, but it seemed to help the situation.
He tightened his grip on her and gave her the quiet she
needed to compose herself.  She'd just noticed Will; he
wasn't dancing but was standing off to the side watching
her.

Thankfully, Peter was quiet as they circled the dance floor,
giving her a chance to ignore Will and enjoy herself. The
room spun past in a swirl of lights and colors and she felt
giddy with excitement.  When the dance ended, she met
Peter's eyes and found a look of amazement on his face. She
smiled at him and wondered why he was looking at her so
strangely.

As they moved to the edge of the dance floor she caught
sight of herself in a mirror and couldn't believe it.  If
she hadn't recognized the midnight blue dress, she wouldn't
have known herself.  Her eyes glittered a bright, clear blue
and her cheeks were flushed a vivid pink.  More of her hair
had escaped and fallen onto her face, but it still hung in
perfect ringlets.  Before she had a chance to catch her
breath, she was being approached by Martha and Earl.

"Would you care to dance, Mary?" he asked as Martha beamed
at her from his side.

"I'd love to, thank you, Earl," she said as she took his
hand and followed him out onto the dance floor.  As the
music started she caught a glimpse of Will, still staring
her, anger obvious on his features.  Peter wasn't too far
away, dancing with Martha, a look of explicit disappointment
on his face.

"Thank you for talking Martha into coming, miss," Earl said,
drawing her attention away from Will.  "I'd have been
telling her about it forever if she hadn't gotten to see the
palace herself."

"I'm glad she came, too.  I needed the moral support, to be
honest with you," she answered with a laugh.

"How could you not know you're the belle of the ball?" he
asked.

"What?" she countered, shocked to her core.

"No one here can take their eyes off of you, including the
prince.  Hadn't you noticed?"

"Well...."  She'd had eyes for no one but Will and hadn't
noticed much else, especially the way the other revellers
were staring at her.  She didn't know anything else to say
to Earl, so she kept her mouth shut for the rest of the
dance.

The evening flew past and Mary knew she'd never had so much
fun in her life.  She danced with Michael, the boy who'd
broken his leg so long ago, then Paul, Lydia's brother.

That was just the men she knew though; there were three
strange men who introduced themselves together as Melvin,
Richard and John.  They took turns, keeping her occupied for
three dances in a row while staying precariously close to
the side of the room where Will stood watching.

When they finally said their collective good evenings, she
turned around to meet Peter, who'd just danced with one of
the maids from the Hawthorne house.

"Would you like some punch now?" he asked breathlessly.

"No, I'd like to dance again, I think."

He seemed to think nothing of her boldness as he smiled and
led her to the floor again.  The music wasn't quite as
lively as it had been, so they were both just beginning to
catch their breath when Mary saw him.  Will was walking
across the floor toward them and all the dancers were
slowing to watch and move out of his way.  Peter was totally
oblivious, so when he was tapped on the shoulder he turned
around quickly to see who challenged him. Mary felt him
shake for a full second before he was able to speak.

"Your Highness, I beg your pardon."

"I'd like to cut in," Will stated in none too polite a
manner. He'd yet to take his eyes off her to even glance at
her dance partner.

"Yes, yes, of course," Peter answered before looking back to
her.  "Would you please dance with me again later, Mary?"

"Yes, I will, thank you," Mary said willfully without taking
her eyes off the prince.

With that Peter turned to go, leaving her alone with Will.
Finally meeting his eyes, she curtsied long and low, hoping
he'd see it for the insult she intended it as.  He got the
message and practically growled as he took her hand.

"Stop it.  You act as if we've never met before," he said as
he pulled her to her full height and then into his arms to
dance.

"I'm just showing proper courtesy," she said icily, never
letting her gaze waver from his.  It was apparent what he
thought of her behavior when he rolled his eyes.  "So," she
said as she looked pointedly at his clothing.  "Your father
is 'wealthy', you said?"

"I don't want to talk about that here," he answered with a
stubborn look on his face.

"What better place would there be to discuss something than
in your ancestral home?"

"There is no good place for discussing something of such
poor taste," he replied.  Mary just shot him an icy glare,
feeling as if she'd just been reprimanded and insulted. The
look on his face was not one of disdain, it was of
affection. Inexplicably, she found that this action made her
even angrier than his words.

"So you're going to start telling me what to say now?"

"Indeed not," he said with a chuckle.  "The things you come
up with are much more interesting than anything I could
supply for you."

"I don't know--you've come up with some pretty fascinating
tales of your own.  Or maybe it's the things you leave out
that I find so hard to forget."

"You're never going to forgive me, are you?" he asked with
not a trace of remorse anywhere about his features.

"Why should it matter?  You never took my feelings into
account before."

He let a sigh escape his mouth as his eyes sought the
ceiling in frustration.

"I never got a chance to tell you, to explain anything."

"You mean you'd have told me about all of this?" she
indicated the ornate palace and the rich furnishings.

"Yes, absolutely.  I've gone out of my way to meet you at
the glade on the edge of town nearly every day, but you
never come anymore."

"I figured you'd be busy entertaining Lady Diana," she said
evilly.  He groaned in response.

"As if she needs any help keeping herself busy."  Mary
fought to keep from laughing.

They danced in silence for a few minutes, during which Mary
started to feel bad about the way she was acting. Eventually
a little bit of the connection she felt with Will started to
reassert itself.  When the music stopped, Mary was amazed at
how quiet the room was.  Looking around to see what was
happening as Will kept walking off the dance floor, she was
stunned to find everyone staring at her.  When he came back
to her side she wondered if he was ignoring the fact that
they were the center of attention or if he just didn't
notice.

"Would you like something to drink?"

She could feel her old meekness slipping back into place
under the glares of the people watching her.

"Mary?  Is there anything I can get for you?" he asked as
his hand touched her cheek, making her look at him.  His
eyes were telling her to be brave, that he wanted to be with
her.  She drank up his strength and took the arm he offered
her, already forgetting that they weren't the only people in
the room.

He led her away from the crowd to a door that opened onto to
a balcony.  The fresh air felt wonderful after dancing so
much and the view of the town was breathtaking from that
height.

"I'm glad you decided to come tonight, and you look
beautiful in that color.  None of the other women here can
come close to you."

"Thank you, Will," she whispered, incapable of actual
speech.

"I wish you'd come back to our spot lately.  I could've used
some help on something."

"Help?" she mumbled, having been rendered momentarily stupid
by his use of the phrase 'our spot'.

"Yes; I've been trying to figure out a few things and
someone else's opinion would've been very valuable to me."
Guilt attached itself to her for the second time that day.
She'd been so busy feeling sorry for herself that she'd
failed everyone around her.

"I'm sorry.  I just....  I've been, um...."

"Don't worry about it," he said with a grimace of annoyance
which seemed to be directed at himself. "Anyway, I've come
upon some interesting information lately.  I'd like to share
it with you."

"I need to talk to you, too," she told him.  She needed to
tell him about the convent, but she couldn't imagine what he
needed to tell her.

"I--"  He was interrupted by someone, speaking, making some
kind of announcement in the ballroom.  The guests all grew
quieter than they'd been all night and Mary heard Will utter
an oath.

"It's the announcement," Will said with a look of disgust on
his face.  "I thought they'd do that last thing.  I--"

A man Mary didn't recognize stuck his head through the door
then.  "They're calling for you, Your Highness."

"Yes, Charles, I'll be right there."  He turned back to Mary
as if to say something but before he had a chance the man
had returned.

"William, please."

Will gave her a look that spoke volumes about his state of
mind at the moment--pure, unadulterated panic. "Whatever
happens in there, please trust me," he implored as he took
her hand.

They'd no more than walked in the room when something shiny
and green in the corner of her vision drew her attention
away from Will.  Her heart dropped to the floor when she
turned to see Lady Diana and a man smoking a pipe and
wearing a jacket identical to Will's, except that it was
dark blue, blocking her path.  Diana wore a hideous dress of
green silk that looked ready to burst at the seams that was
not going to win her seamstress any new customers. It was
all Mary could do to keep from laughing.  Diana was
obviously angry, as evidenced by her fat lips being pursed
practically out of existence. Her beady pig eyes shifted
from her to Will only to focus on Mary once again.

"The shepherd wasn't enough for you?  You have to set your
sights on the prince?"

"That was totally uncalled for, Lady Diana," Will stepped up
to her defense.  Mary shot him a warning look, trying to
tell him she could handle it herself.  He backed away
somewhat and Mary turned to Diana with a smile on her face.

"I've set my sights on the church, Madam.  Nothing else."

"Well you're not getting him, you little slut.  He's engaged
to marry *me*!  King George is going to announce it right
now!" she said as she gestured to the man behind her. Mary
was too distraught to care that she'd finally succeeded in
seeing the king.

The room darkened ominously but she fought to regain her
composure.  Looking up at Will she saw a stricken look on
his face that scared her.  He made it worse by trying to
take her hand.

"Mary, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean for this--"

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Your Highness,"
she said as she pulled away from him and ran.

~~~~~

After the noise and commotion of the ball, the church seemed
even quieter than usual.  Mary hadn't come to the chapel to
find comfort since she was a child; she'd discovered the
little glade on the edge of town a few years ago and had
been going there instead.

The church was exactly what she needed this time though. The
candles reflecting on the woodwork provided the only light
and all sound was kept out by the big heavy doors.  It felt
right to her to be shut off from the outside world; the room
mirrored her mood much the same as the cloudy morning had.
It had cleared later and a gorgeous golden sunset had
preceded a full moon that reflected onto the heavy mist that
invaded the night.  The ethereal moonlight been perfect for
the ball, but it seemed too much for her to cope with at the
moment.  She refused to feel sorry for herself even in the
throes of a dark mood though.  Sister Elizabeth had raised
her to be satisfied with what she had and she wasn't going
to start wishing for unattainable things now.

Just as she was arguing with herself whether it would be
running from her problems to find out if she could go to the
convent early, the front door opened and closed quietly.

"Mary?  Where are you?  I saw you come in here," Will asked
in an unsteady voice.  "You dropped something as you left; I
brought it for you."

Thankful she had chosen to lie down on the pew, she didn't
answer.

"I'm sorry, Mary, I didn't mean for you to find out like
that."

She unintentionally snorted at that, leading him to her
hiding place near the front of the church.

"Here, you dropped this," he said as he handed her the comb
he'd made for her.  She felt the back of her head quickly;
she hadn't even felt it fall out.  "I hated to think of you
not wearing it again; it looked terribly pretty."

"Thank you," she said as she took the comb from his hand,
hoping he'd go away and leave her alone.

"You missed the most exciting part of the ball, Mary," he
said as he knelt in front of her.

"What was that, Your Highness?"

It was Will's turn to snort.  "Well, I think you'd have
enjoyed the part where I threw my crown at the king."

"Will, you weren't wearing a crown," she said numbly even as
she noticed that his official sash was gone, torn from his
coat.

"I was speaking figuratively."

"Why did you do that?  Didn't your, um, father get angry?"

"Yes, well, that's the interesting thing," he said as he
moved to sit beside her.

"How do you mean?" she asked as she sat up beside him.

"He's not my father.  That's what I was trying to tell you
on the balcony."

"But I thought--," she said as she turned to face him.

"Everyone did, myself included."

"I'm confused," she admitted after a moment of trying to
figure what he was talking about.

"I have only vague memories of a man I called father," he
explained in a patient tone.  "He stopped visiting me when I
was five years old; I always wondered why.  My uncles
refused to even hear my questions and my adopted family knew
nothing.  So, you can imagine how I felt when a page brought
a message from the king, requesting I come claim my
birthright.  I thought it explained everything.  A king
would be terribly busy, don't you think?  Too busy to bother
with a five year old boy who'd been born out of wedlock." He
stopped talking with a sigh and stilled, staring at the
floor before continuing.

"When I was born, I had a twin.  She died eight days after
we were born.  Apparently my mother wasn't well after our
births and this was the last blow.  She took her own life
when I was twelve days old."

"Oh, Will, I'm sorry," she said as she moved closer to him.
The anguish in his voice was too painful for her to hear.

"It's all right, I obviously don't remember it.  She'd sent
me to live in the country already anyway. When I came of age
a month ago, they gave me my mother's things that had been
sent to them when she died.  In it was a diary. She wrote
everything in the diary, meeting my father, falling in love
with him--everything but his name. The entries stop right
after she found out she was with child, but not before she
wrote of something terribly traumatic happening to her that
made her want to kill herself."

"What was it?"

"The king took advantage of her, if you know what I mean,"
he answered.

"I think I can imagine," she answered.  This story was more
convoluted and crazy than anything she'd ever heard, but she
believed him.

"That's what makes him think he's my father, I guess."

"What happened tonight?  What did you do?"

"I told him I was someone else's bastard son and that I
wouldn't call him father for all the gold in the kingdom,"
he described as he bowed his head in an attempt to hide the
smile on his face.

"That was before or after you tore the sash off?"

"During."

"What did Diana say?"  She couldn't help it, she had to
know.

"She was at a loss for words, I guess.  She didn't say much
of anything as she grabbed for the sash."  They shared a
laugh at the stupid woman's expense before Will continued.

"I was very shocked and disappointed when I met King George
and realized he wasn't the kind man who'd brought me toys
all those years ago.  I decided I'd stay a while and see
what I could figure out on my own.  I'd gotten all the
information there was to be gotten from my mother's diary,
so I thought I had nothing to lose. Someone, somewhere would
surely know something and be willing to share it, or so I
thought.  Apparently I was wrong."

"You should have come to me, William."  Father Stephen's
booming voice startled them both.

"What--what do you mean, Father?" Will asked as the old
priest came from behind the altar and lit a lamp that was
there.

"I can tell you most--if not all--you need to know," Father
Stephen said as he sat in front of them.

"Please, would you?"  Will said with obvious enthusiasm.

"Well, to start with, you're right.  The king is not your
father."

"How do you know?" Will asked as he stood.

"Because another man was present at your christening."

"My christening?  Who?"

"Your mother's husband."

"My mother wasn't married," Will said as he swallowed a
bitter chuckle.

"Yes she was; I married your parents myself more than two
years before you were born."

Mary couldn't speak, the discussion going on before her was
too strange to contemplate.  Will sat silently digesting the
information for a few minutes, during which Father Stephen
made himself more comfortable on the pew in front of them.

"Why--why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Your father asked me--paid me--not to tell anyone."  Now
she knew where he'd gotten the money to buy the fabric for
her dress.

"Who was my father that you would do something like this for
him?"

"He was William, Duke of Arlington."

"Why didn't he want anyone to know of their marriage?"

"King George wouldn't give them permission to marry," Father
Stephen explained.  "He was rather infatuated with your
mother.  She'd been spurning him for years, so when he found
a way to make her unhappy, he took it.  I helped your mother
all I could; she was a good woman.  I christened you, buried
your sister and placed you with the Scully family in Tisbury
on the same day.  I recommended the men you call uncles for
your education when you were five years old."

"Why are you telling me now?"

"I've held my silence too long.  A lot of anguish and pain
could've been prevented if I'd spoken sooner," he answered
with a pointed glance at Mary as he prepared to leave.

"Wait, one last question.  Do you know what happened to my
father?"

"King George found out that they were married.  He didn't
appreciate being disobeyed."

Will nodded his head as if he understood while Mary moved
closer and took his hand.  She was startled when he turned
to her and put his head on her shoulder and started crying
quietly.  She did her best to soothe him but felt very
ineffectual when he just went on sobbing.

"I'm sorry my silence has hurt you like it has, William,"
Father Stephen said as he stood and came around to stand by
them.

"Would you have let me be crowned king, knowing that I
shouldn't have been?"  Will asked, still weeping for his
parents and their tragic story.

"Yes, absolutely.  I know your teachers; they taught you
well and you are a good man, very like your father. You
would make a decent and fair ruler for this country."

"What if the last thing I wanted was to be responsible for
this country?"

"You've got to believe that I did what I thought best at the
time.  It would appear that I've done nothing but wrong--
for either of you--and for that I apologize," he said
wearily as he turned to go.

"Father," Mary said before he had a chance to get far.  He
turned back toward them but didn't speak.  "Thank you for
everything you've done for me.  I wouldn't change one single
day, given the chance."

"Neither would I," Will agreed as he straightened in his
seat.  "After all, your actions have brought us here,
together.  I wouldn't trade 'here' for anything."

Father Stephen bestowed them with a sad smile before turning
and leaving.

"I'm sorry about what Diana said to you tonight," he said
against her shoulder once they were alone.  "I was going to
tell King George tonight that I didn't want to be his heir
anyway.  He's not a good man, Mary.  He and Diana decided
that we should be married and never asked me how I felt
about being wed to a woman nearly twice my age.  I'd rather
go back to tutoring, like I did in the country."

"I'm sorry too, Will."

"You don't owe me any apologies," he said as he lifted his
tear-stained face up to her.  He was so close she could feel
his breath hitting her face.

"Yes I do.  I was terribly rude to you after I found out who
you were, I never went back to the place where I met you, I
was awfully mean to you tonight and I was planning on going
away to a convent to avoid you," she finished breathlessly
as he just looked at her.

"One other thing, Mary," he said as he moved away from her
and looked down at his hands.  "I actually *do* own that
land.  I lied the second time to fix the way it hurt you
when I told you about it the first time."

Mary couldn't help it, she laughed when he said it so
seriously.  "Oh, Will.  Don't you know anything?" she said
as she took his hand again.

"It was a gift to my mother and she left it to me.  I'd
found the deed in her belongings the day I met you.  I think
maybe my father might have bought the land for her, for
their home."

"I always hoped that someone had loved it like I do."

"That means I'm a duke, Mary."

"I know," she answered.

"You do know that I care about you, don't you?"

"I must admit to hoping but I wasn't raised that way, I--"

"Raised what way, Mary?  What do you think I'm saying?"

"You're of noble birth and I'm a foundling, but I was raised
by a nun and a priest.  I won't be your mistress so you can
marry someone like Lady Diana."

"Mary, you stupid girl.  I want *you* to have that land," he
said, lifting her chin and forcing her to look him in the
eyes.  "I want to build our home there.  I'm asking you to
be my wife."

She couldn't speak for the happy tears that were demanding
to be cried, so she answered by throwing her arms around his
neck and hugging him tightly.

"I'm a simple person, I don't need much," he continued, as
she reluctantly turned him loose.  "I don't want money or
fancy clothes or a palace and the power that goes with a
crown.  I want to be free to be myself."

"So do I, Will, so do I," she answered as she wondered if
the nuns at Sister Elizabeth's convent would be very angry
if she changed her mind.

"Mary?" Will asked, bringing her back to the present.

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?" he asked tentatively.  She smiled a big,
happy smile, which he took for the permission that it was.

Her first kiss was even better than she'd ever imagined.
Will's lips were soft and glided against hers to produce the
most wondrous feeling she'd ever known.  They kissed so long
that she began to be embarrassed, in case Father Stephen
were to come back and find them like that.  Will put his
hands in her hair at the back of her neck then though and
drove every thought but those of his lips out of her mind.

"So that's what it feels like," she said in a breathless
voice when they finally parted.

"What?" he asked, voice equally breathless.

"Happiness."

~~~~~Epilogue~~~~~

Mary had cleaned until her hands were raw and Will swore he
was going to start eating off the floor.  He'd stopped her
several times and reminded her that it was a new house and
couldn't be terribly dirty, but she'd kept going.  She
didn't want his family to think he had married a lazy woman;
when she'd told him this, he'd picked up a brush and helped
her scrub the floor, saying he didn't want them to think
she'd married a lazy man.  They'd laughed together and went
out to pick primroses from the patch in their yard when
they'd finished.

The next day, the rapid knocks on the door of their little
house made Mary even more nervous. Will just grinned at her
as he went to admit their guests.

"William!  You look wonderful, child!  Marriage and nobility
suits you," the woman said as she attempted to engulf Will,
who was a good foot taller, in a hug.

"And I'm teaching again, don't forget that," he said with a
laugh as he turned to let them see each other.  "Now come
meet my beautiful wife.  Mary, do you remember the day we
met, I said you reminded me of someone?  This is Margaret,
the saintly woman who raised me as her own."

Mary felt a little more at ease when she saw the look of
genuine affection Margaret gave Will.  She could see why she
made him think of this woman; if she had brown hair she
would look exactly like her in a few years.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day this young scamp
should be called Sir William," the woman said after a slight
hesitation.  Taking Mary's hands in her own she continued to
speak with a warm smile on her face.  "I'm sorry I didn't
get to come to the wedding, my dear; Father Stephen told me
it was the most moving ceremony he's ever officiated over.

"My first grandchild chose that same day to come into the
world.  My husband asked me to give you both his greetings
and well wishes.  His ship sailed out the day before my
grandson was born so he didn't get to be here for either."

"I understand," Mary said as her attention was drawn to the
door where Will was making a great commotion with someone he
had his arms around.

"That's my daughter, Millicent.  She just *had* to meet you,
to see if you were the right person for our Will," Margaret
said with a strange smile as she reached up to move a lock
of hair out of Mary's eyes.

At that time, Will moved back to introduce her to a young
woman with hair the same flaming red as her own.

"I brought you some primroses to plant in your garden,"
Millicent said with a secretive smile.

~~~~~And they all lived happily ever after.~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Additional notes:  This story obviously owes a lot to the
many versions of the Cinderella story out there, but also to
a couple of other things.  The true inspiration for this
came from a book I read a long time ago that has remained
one of my favorite books ever since.  It's called _Silver
Woven In My Hair_, by Shirley Rousseau Murphy.  You'd be
doing yourself a favor if you were to hunt this little book
up and read it; it's a gorgeous story.  And then a couple of
AU fan fics played a big part.  Jenna's 'Katherine of
Ireland', Prufrock's 'Hiraeth' and 'Paracelsus' are some of
my favorite readings ever and without them to guide the way,
I'd never have written this.  So any similarities between my
story and any of these great works of art are intended
purely as homage.  :)
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~Send me feedback:  jemirah@charter.net
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~Visit my web site:  http://webpages.charter.net/jemirah/
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