"Mr. Richard, you don't really have to--"
Oh my dear, please take it," Mr. Richard waved. "Your father has been a good friend to me; don't refuse it, Madeline."
Madeline smiled. "Thank you."
He patted her shoulder, "No, thank you for helping your father at the shop. It's not every day you will see a wonderful girl like you. And don't listen to anything anyone says about your inability to find a suitor. Someday, someone good will come."
They left Mr. Richard's bakery, heading back to the shop. The number of people passing in the street had lessened, and Madeline scanned the area so she wouldn't bump into Philemon again.
What Mr. Richard said kept coming into her head. Yes, it wasn't new for people to laugh at her, to tell her that she was not fit for a good man.
That no noble man, no rich man would ever look at someone who worked tirelessly like a man, and whose skin wasn't as smooth and fair but was now tanned. It wasn't like if she found the right oil and sat indoors like other girls, she would have had this tanned skin.
Despite what others may say, she didn't worry much about her skin. The real concern was the type of man who would choose to marry her. Perhaps it was time for her to start considering her appearance and start applying olive oil on her skin every single day. Could that be the reason why no gentlemen, even those not wealthy, had sought her hand? All that seemed to remain were sugar-coated men.
"We should head home," he said. Madeline frowned and looked around. "The clock was ticking quite fine, but they had never closed by this time. They would usually stay back for a while. But with fewer buyers, it was hard to keep working all day.
"We bought rye bread," Madeline raised the bread up to him. "Josiah is hungry.
Josiah looked innocently at his father, hoping that he would let him have a bite before they could head home. It wasn't that he was a bad father; he was just sometimes intimidating, which made Josiah hesitant to be near him. Since their mother was mostly away, he was closest to Madeline.
"Alright, he can have it, but eating on the road is a bad habit," he mumbled. Madeline heard the rest of the words clearly.
As he carried the tools and put them in a sack that was now over his shoulder, Madeline took out a loaf and cut it in half. The bread was still hot, its aroma reaching her nostrils, and it took all her willpower to keep her hunger in check.
It wasn't because of what her father said about eating on the road; rather, she wanted to save this bread for dinner, where they could enjoy it with oats.
Josiah munched on the loaf, emitting a soft hum. Madeline noticed how he closed his eyes while taking each bite, clearly savoring the bread's delectable sweetness.
When they reached their small cottage that was at the outskirts of the village, with a corn farm greeting them, and a small stable housing a single horse not far from their cottage, they were greeted by the lady of the house, Mrs. Catherine.
Madeline's mother stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the door, watching them sternly. She wore a faded white velvet gown that reached her knee that has puffed sleeves. Her black wavy hair was now pulled back into a ponytail. Her milky skin was tanned from the sun, though not as severely as Madeline's; Madeline's own always made it appear as if she had olive skin.
"Mother," Jo raced towards her and engulfed her in a tight hug.
Despite the hard look on her face when she first saw them, it was soon replaced by a sweet smile as she held Jo in her embrace.
"How has your day been, Jo?" her voice soft and enticing, but more stern and fearful than Madeline's when she was upset.
"Great", he beamed.
"Mother," Madeline smiled upon reaching the door.
Mrs. Catherine raised her head and watched her with a tight smile. Did something happen? She couldn't quite ignore the fact that something indeed was up; the look on her face could not lie.
"Bread," Madeline raised the bag with a small smile.
Her mother nodded, then her eyes traveled to her husband who stood behind Madeline.
"Both of you, inside," she said with her eyes still fixed on him.
Madeline did not even question who she was referring to; she knew quite well it was one of her bad days and you do not want to add to her boiling rage.
"Come here, Jo," she held her little brother's hand and headed inside. The minute she closed the door, she stood there, but all she could hear was quietness.
"Go to your room Jo," she nudged Josiah and watched as he walked away then she waited at the door, her ear pressed on the hard wood.
"She is not going," she heard her mother's stern voice.
She blinked, wondering what her mother was talking about. "Catherine, how did you -"
"The king's request," she snorted, "why would he ask her to deliver it and not you?"
Wait?
How did she know? The king could not possibly have delivered the message to her, so how did she find out when only Madeline, her father, and the messenger knew?
She had been with him and had not seen him tell anyone; nor did the messenger stumble upon her mother on his way back to the castle.
"Catherine, who told you?"
"Sophia did," replied the mother with a sigh. It was hard for her not to tell the truth to her husband; that was one thing she had noticed between them - they hardly kept things from each other.
Mrs. Sophia, the tailor?
But she was at her shop. Did she eavesdrop?
That could be possible since the messenger likely arrived in a royal carriage, one that could draw attention. She must have been curious to find out what the message could be.
If she knew, then words must have spread by now. She was sure the whole village had come to know.
"We do not know who the king is, but I heard from people who have seen him that he is one to be wary of. How can my daughter go there alone?"
Her father's tone was less stern, softer as he spoke, "We do not have a choice, Catherine; it is for the good of the business."
"But-"
"Madeline is a strong woman, just like you. She is of age now, and I believe she can handle it and convince the king to buy it."
"Gavin, it takes a whole day to get to the castle. She would not return that day."
"Worry less, Catherine. I do not want this either, but Madeline does. Please, let's think of the positive side of this."
.....
That night, as Madeline lay on her bed, she thought again about what she must do when she gets to the castle, how she would be able to convince the king. With her mother's worry now palpable and their business running low, she knew she would have to give her best and she must not fail.