The Dragonfly Pool

“Here comes my little sunbeam,” said her mother, and Carlotta smiled, because in truth she knew herself to be a ray of light and cheerfulness illuminating the dark house.

Being a sunbeam is hard work, but Carlotta did not shirk her duty. She saw to it that the maids crimped and curled her hair several times a day, and that her dresses were laundered and ironed before anybody else’s. She “borrowed” any trinkets she needed from her relatives—her dimpled wrists usually glittered with bracelets—and she never passed a mirror without checking that everything was as it should be.

Carlotta knew that cheering up her Cousin Karil was her job, and she rose to the task. Whenever he came into a room she patted the chair next to her and told him about the interesting things they were going to do that day, and she was always thinking of ideas for refurbishing the palace when they returned together to Bergania.

Countess Frederica had taken Carlotta into her confidence when they first arrived.

“I’m afraid Karil had a really dreadful time on his journey.”

But the dreadful time, when told to Carlotta, did not mean being chased by ruffians and nearly captured, it meant traveling in the company of the most appalling, unruly, and impertinent children.

“I can’t tell you, Carlotta, what the poor boy had to endure. Bad language, sharing a room with utterly lowborn people, being called by his Christian name. There was a girl there who, from the way she spoke to him, seemed to think he was simply an ordinary person. And I’m very much afraid that Karil was taken in by them. He called them his friends.”

“Oh, he couldn’t have done!” Carlotta was really shocked. “What was this girl like?”

“Rude. Abominably dressed. The children all came from some impossible school in Devon where everybody does as they like—and you can believe it or not, they wanted Karil to go there with them.”

“They didn’t! But surely they knew that he was a prince—and would be a king one day.”

“They knew, but they took absolutely no notice. It was the most shocking thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t think there is any danger that they will try to get in touch with him, but you know how good-natured Karil is—he might find it difficult to snub them.”

“My goodness, yes.” And then: “What was the name of this girl? ”

“Something ridiculous. They called her Tally. I have never met anyone so lacking in respect.”

The countess said no more. Carlotta was a highly intelligent girl; no usurper would get past her. Altogether Countess Frederica was very pleased with the way things had turned out; Carlotta spent most of her free time with Karil and the countess was sure that her amusing prattle must cheer him up.

After breakfast the duke sent for Karil. He lived in a dark, fusty set of rooms on the first floor, which smelled of mothballs, tobacco, and an unappetizing ointment that he rubbed into his joints to ease his rheumatism. The duchess had died three years earlier, but no one had noticed this very much. She had been a browbeaten, skeletally thin woman, usually dressed in a mountain of gray cardigans, who had followed her husband about bleating, “Yes, Mortimer,” and agreeing with everything he said.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, glaring down at his grandson. “I have to tell you that I’m not at all pleased with you! I’m hearing bad things—very bad things—and I won’t stand for them!”

Karil waited, trying to think what he had done, but nothing occurred to him.

“You have been hobnobbing with the servants. Being familiar. Talking to the footmen, gossiping with the maids—and it must stop at once!”

And as Karil remained silent . . .

“Do you hear me, boy? I’m talking to you and I expect to be answered.”

“I don’t think I was gossiping exactly. One of the maids had sprained her ankle.”

“Are you contradicting me?” asked the duke, turning crimson.

“No, sir.”

“I hope not. I really hope not. Remember you are here for one reason only, to fulfill your father’s wishes. You may have a few years to wait, but you’ll go back to Bergania as rightful king, no doubt about it, so I don’t want to hear any more about you letting people take liberties. Never forget who you are.”

But Karil was beginning to forget just that: who he was, and where he was going.

“You should take a leaf out of Carlotta’s book. She never forgets who she is. You’ll be fortunate to have her to help you when you go back. And of course she has the blood. She’s got the Rottingdene blood from my side, and her father is descended from Attila the Hun. You’ll do very well with Carlotta when the time comes; she’ll see that you behave yourself.”

Karil’s lesson that morning was with Prince Dmitri, who was designing a new coat of arms to be embroidered on the sofa cushions in his room. He was a stupid man, but when he began to talk about fesses and bends sinister and gules he became quite excited.

“I’ve never been happy with just the lion couchant. Now what do you think about a salamander? Rampant, of course.”