In Which Princess Dulcie Complains

From the diary of Dulcie, Crown Princess of Bentlefay:

I was feeling comparatively cheerful today, so I decided to torture myself with an exact rendering of what my life is like. And it’s working! I feel grimmer just thinking about it.

Eight o’clock: I rise. The day is overcast, with a ray of sun breaking through the cloud to herald a promise of brightness that is but academic to me.

Half past eight: Breakfast. Tess in the kitchen WILL NOT understand that I want porridge, plain porridge with salt and whatever fruit we have fresh. Winnie has given up trying to explain it to her and brought her here so I could explain it myself, but she remains mulish. “Stands to reason a dainty lady should have dainty things,” she muttered on her way out. “Why does she think she wants to eat like the cows?” The next sweet cake she sends I will send back with a knife in its heart.

Nine o’clock to one o’clock: Change gown and do needlework. Winnie is in the tilt-yard supervising the testing of my new bodyguard, so it is just Ellen and me. When Winnie is here we can amuse ourselves with sarcastic talk about the ladies and gentlemen of the court, but Ellen has bought the courtier’s life whole, so it is no use talking to her. She does not recognize sarcasm and while I tried to make a game of getting her to believe the most outrageous things about the gentlemen-in-waiting, there is no sport in it at all. She believes everything you say, and I have never seen the point in potting at sitting game.

One o’clock: Change gown and have luncheon. Fortunately Tess cannot give me sweet cakes for luncheon, but her wine-marinated pheasant is nearly as cloying. Winnie was back from the tiltyard however, so I was able to change plates with her; Tess believes her when she says what she wants, so she asked for brown bread and chicken salad and gave it to me. Winnie was giddy with delight at having procured so suitable a bodyguard; apparently, it will be a young woman this time, which ought at least to spare me the aggravating bore of a marriage proposal or seduction attempt on the first day. Winnie and I used to take bets on how long they would hold out, but it’s really no longer amusing. If this young woman can also converse intelligently, my cup will be full.

Two o’clock to three o’clock: Change gown and go for walk in the woods. It is not very convenient to walk in the woods, since we have to take Archer and Rafe with us to brush away the hopeful young men who seem to lurk behind every tree, but it is even less convenient to walk in the town, where we would have to take a whole phalanx and still not get to walk particularly. We can’t walk very quickly in any case on account of my train, but there is sufficient terrain in the woods that one can still get a little exercise. Tomorrow there will be the new bodyguard, so perhaps I will not have to trouble so much to be ladylike. For all his experience among fighting men, Archer is as modest as an old spinster – though Rafe, like many men who are not attracted to women, has no discernible illusions about them and can join in the bluest of discussions without blanching. I told him he would have been the best bodyguard possible for a beleaguered princess, but he said he would rather chew glass. I know what he means.

Half past three to five o’clock: Change gown and have a rest. This is one of the few times in my day that I am allowed to be utterly without chaperone, and I enjoy it to the fullest. I put on my nightdress – my nightdress, in the middle of the afternoon! – lock the door and bar it for good measure, then lie on my bed with a book and my diary and have a nice long wallow. This is one of Father’s books on military tactics and it suffers from a broken spine and a loose binding from Father throwing it across the room. Poor darling, he will never be able to tell his vanguard from his rearguard and has always had to rely on Mother. I am afraid that it was a disappointment to both of them that I inherited Mother’s talent at tactics and Father’s allergy to intrigue, instead of Mother’s diplomacy and Father’s executive ability, but they are afraid not to let me study a skill that is at such a premium in our family. Mother will even give me some shamefaced tutelage now and again, although she is at Seaward at present for the launching of the new vessel, so I am on my own.

Five o'clock to seven o'clock: Change gown and receive guests. I suppose I am fortunate not to have to put up with the “court” before five o’clock, but on the other hand it might be less vexing to have the day to get used to them rather than being thrown among them as though into a cold bath. Fortunately the most craven opportunists are in Seaward with Mother -- I am sure there isn't a potboy in the land who doesn't know that the queen can take him farther than the king can -- but that leaves the clinging, the incompetent, the sentimental, the monosyllabic, the outright senile, and maybe two people capable of carrying on an actual conversation. And Winnie, may her shriveled black heart never grow soft. There are a few of the usual hopeful young men hanging about; I don't remember where these particular ones come from. Watching them sabotage each other for the privilege of a word with the princess is mildly amusing for five minutes or so.

Seven o'clock: Change gown and have dinner. It is the custom for the highest ranking lady to sit at the head of the table in the queen's absence, so I have Father on my left and am spared the tedium of two hopeful young men; however, one is almost worse since there is no competitor to distract him and I am subjected to the full blast of his personality. Winnie is on his other side, but though she can be relied upon to wave a hand at him now and again, she has her hands full with the other hopeful young man on HER other side, who is practically salivating with his barely concealed desire to slay both Winnie and his rival and turn on me the full blast of his OWN personality, as though I don't already have problems enough.

Half past eight till eleven o'clock: Change gown and dance. Mother rules the dancing with an iron hand when she is here, but Father so plainly doesn't care that the place might as well be a tavern when Mother is gone. Both lutes, the crowder, the sackbut, one of the flutes and one of the drummers are all in Seaward so the music consists of a single flute and a single drum. It's the bass drum so you can only hear the flute for a single twitter once every other measure or so. Mother made me promise months ago to dance at least once with each of the hopeful young men who come to call; I think she hopes one of them will sweep me off my feet someday and cause me to act like a normal girl for once. Today's crop merely served to underscore the evident desperation of her endeavor. Fortunately old Sir Waldo Pobb stays with the king's court and not the queen's, and he combines the sterling qualities of (1) an inability to string two words together to save his life with (2) a life-long fever for dancing, and will monopolize me for as long as I require monopolizing, dazzling us all with the facile footwork of his youth and never, bless him, saying a word.

Eleven o'clock till bedtime: Change gown and write up diary in bed. This used to be another unchaperoned time until a hopeful young man of six months ago took advantage of a between-bodyguard hiatus to steal into my room at the end of the dancing and hide in the clothes press. It looks very frightening written out like that, but all he did was wait until I had read myself nearly to sleep on theology and then emerge soft-footed to croon a song he had written himself, which made particular reference to my lofty position, his delicate mission and our true love's fruition. His singing voice was so very bad that Winnie's Patkin heard him all the way on the other side of the wing and started howling like a banshee. Now I sleep next to Winnie's room with a connecting door, and she leaves the door open with no secret about it. It doesn't bother me, but it was very inconvenient for her to carry on liaisons with the door open, until she realized that there was at least a little bit of sport to be got by having the poor fellows perform and then rating them with me the next morning at breakfast. Patkin comes and sleeps with me when Winnie has a guest, and we are all most comfortable.

And that was my day. Not noticeably different from any other day I have had since my unfortunate debut, although rendered slightly less formal by Mother's absence. I look forward to her return in many ways -- Mother is the most interesting conversationalist I know, with the barely possible exception of Winnie -- but I admit to a preference for the less buttoned-up atmosphere. Tomorrow brings the new bodyguard, and although I wouldn't mind a new addition to the painfully thin ranks of people with whom I can act naturally, my hopes are not high.

Next