A Coachman, A Maid, and a Magical Mission

Marcel drove his team of Felix and Fifi, their harnesses squeaking as the coach rattled over the uneven road. The animals’ twin gray posteriors rippled from their muscle and effort. Tossing their manes and trotting in perfect rhythm, the Mage spy’s equine companions seemed chipper and happy to be let loose from the city.

He felt very much the same. Freedom. At least for a week or so. As a hired coachman, he was driving his passengers to the castle of a royal prince. The three people in his carriage he'd met just recently. Three retinue members, the loyal servants of a marquis.

Glancing to his right, he exchanged gazes with one of the three passengers, a maid by the name of Mademoiselle Adelaide Fortier. Her soft, rounded cheeks were flushed, despite the shade of her blue-ribboned straw bonnet.

“Are you comfortable, Adelaide?” he asked her.

“Very much, merci.” The corners of her mouth dimpled. Just as chipper as his team. A sweet modesty colored her voice and manner, none of the vain posturing he was used to among the Mage girls, such as those who loved to play musical-beds with his boss, Officer Alexis Sauvage.

“I’m glad it’s not too hot today.” He adjusted his tricorn hat over his curls.

“I’m more than comfortable. The breeze feels nice.” Adelaide untied the chin ribbon and took her bonnet off, uncovering her wavy chestnut hair. The sun went behind a cloud, with no harbingers of rain yet.

“You gave up a cushioned velvet coach seat with your sister inside to ride on this wooden buckboard.” Marcel gave a slightly teasing smile. “You must enjoy watching horses at work.”

“Yes.” She giggled, the sound equivalent to a refreshing bath after a dusty day on the cruel streets. “I only hope that my watching them work doesn’t make them nervous, the way my head maid does to me.”

Marcel laughed. “You and I both! I can relate to having nerve-wracking bosses.”

She smiled again—like sunshine. Since their departure from the chateau, he’d spoken little to the young lady beyond such light pleasantries. 

Was that a crime? There was no law against conversation with mortal, non-Mage humans. A vast gap of difference stretched between talking with one, and the crime of intimately mating with one.

Besides, Alexis had no reason to suspect Marcel to be doing anything wrong at the moment. The journey was a ‘two birds with one stone’ deal. He was simply earning money for his driving business while on the mission Alexis had assigned him for Le Conseil Suprême.

Despite the hour’s bliss, a rope of guilt and discomfort tightened around him, disturbing his taste of joy. It was borne by the sisters’ love and trust for the man they called ‘Luc.’ 

This wasn’t making sense anymore. 

The Enchanted Looking Glass’s infallible magic declared that Luc Bisset– the gentleman passenger currently inside Marcel’s coach—was indeed Prince Renaud. A cold-blooded killer, vain, handsome, and madly jealous, who wanted his brother Prince Christopher dead. 

‘Luc’ with his old identity gone, a blank slate living a lowly life for three years, had morphed into a manual-laboring, congenial fellow. Honest and dutiful. Engaged to be married to one of these nice young ladies.

This day, Marcel drove Luc Bisset and the two women with an assigned plan in mind. Luc—or Renaud—was to be reunited with his brother Prince Christopher d’Orléans and his wife Princess Rosalind, in the former's palace. According to what Marcel heard during his spying, the Sorceress Mathilde’s Breakage Clause proclaimed that if Luc were to see Princess Rosalind—the woman who sparked Renaud’s jealous rage—the Clause would break the spell, and his memories would come flooding back.

‘Luc’ would finally pay for his former crimes as Renaud. For the coachman-spy, the reasoning behind his mission was personal. 

Marcel’s beloved sister, Jacinthe, had died in the shooting. Don’t be hesitant about this. It’s the Memory Curse that changed him, he thought.

“Marcel, I was wondering—” Adelaide’s kind, soft voice blended with the sounds of squeaking axles and shaking harnesses.

“Pardon me, what did you say, Adelaide?” 

“I was wondering... Emilie and I grew up in the house on Rue Troisième. I remember you told me your mother’s home was in our neighborhood. I’m surprised we didn’t know each other growing up.”

“I was sent away to school for years.” Marcel let the reins slack as Felix and Fifi took the coach down a gently sloping hill. “A boarding school.”

“I always thought that boarding school was for the rich and nobles. Not that I don’t believe you could be,” she quickly added. “It must have been nice.”

“I hope you won’t be disappointed, but I’m neither rich nor noble,” he said with a chuckle.

She laughed, seeming relieved he wasn’t. “I’m not disappointed at all.”

“It was a special school my father paid for.” The truth. He could tell her this without any mention of magic. “I loved it. Made good friends there. My father had some wealth, I suppose. I inherited this carriage and the horses from him after he died. My mother and I are far from wealthy these days. We get by on our work.”

She nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry for the loss of your Papa.”

“Merci. It was many years ago.” She fanned her face with her bonnet as the clouds passed and the sun grew warmer. Her hair caught the sunshine with its ginger highlights. She lay the circle-brimmed hat in her lap, covering her lower body with hands folded prim and proper. “Goodness, it’s warm now.” 

“It is, I know.” His heart warmed in response. This girl had such a modest air, casual and friendly. She fidgeted with her blue-striped skirts, making sure they draped over her buxom curves and covered her ankles. Mademoiselle Adelaide was larger than most girls, but her sturdy fullness was, in his eyes, the essence of femininity. Does she know she’s beautiful?

“What did you study in your school? Business or... animal husbandry?” Her tone was genuine and curious. 

He blinked his eyes, reining in his dangerous thoughts. “I beg your pardon, Adelaide, what did you ask me before?”

“What did you study in your school?” 

“History, literature, life skills.” He used vague, mundane terms. “I was never good at book learning. Tests were my downfall.”

“I found arithmetic a pain, but I love reading.” Adelaide fidgeted with the ribbon on the bonnet. “I often spend free days doing nothing except reading a good book when I’m off work.”

He shook his head. “Reading old books is torture for me. I prefer working with horses and playing sports.”

He gave Felix and Fifi a nudge at their bits to turn at the curve of the road. Their path meandered through lush green fields beneath a brilliant cerulean sky, with a few clouds to provide a bit of shade now and then. It matched Adelaide’s clothing.

“Emilie and I were fortunate,” said Adelaide. “We don’t come from money at all, but our parents taught us at home. Were girls allowed to attend your boarding school?”

“Yes, they were allowed. There were many girls.”

A previous Mage Lord, the last decent leader, made a law in 1760 to allow girls to have a Magical education. The top student in Marcel’s peer class was a Sorceress named Delphine, now Lord Bertrand’s propaganda secretary.

“If it was a boarding school, did you befriend the boys you stayed with?”

“Yes, of course.” Marcel enjoyed her questions; driving was usually a lonely business. “My best friend from school was Andre. He lives in Normandy by the sea. There were others, some of them I still see around Paris.” 

Fontaine Enchantée, to be more precise. Hidden within the center of Paris behind a magical portal.

“That’s nice.”

“You’ve asked me plenty of questions about my life, Adelaide. I should ask you about yours.” As long as she was near him, the specter of Mage tyranny was swept away from his thoughts, like dirt under a rug. “Do you attend the family’s royal balls and parties?”

“Sometimes.” Adelaide adjusted her skirt again. She swung one of her feet off the footrest, letting it dangle.

“Keep both feet on the footrest, please,” he warned. “If the horses make a sudden stop, it can get crushed in the space between.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” She placed her foot back on the footrest, crossing her ankles. “I rarely ride carriage driver seats, just so you know. This isn’t my habit.”

A laugh bubbled his chest. “So, do you enjoy the parties the noble family goes to?”

“Well... not always,” she replied. “I feel nervous with all the haughty royal people I barely know. Whenever Emilie and I have been to a social function, we’re just there to clear dishes and perform chores. Only drudgery, like always.”

“Understandable.” Marcel laughed again. Drudgery was his life. Either that—or abject horror. “So, um, you never had a chance to dance the minuet?”

“Oh, goodness, no. I’ve always wanted to learn. I worry I might be clumsy.”

“I know how to dance the minuet.” Marcel straightened his slouching posture in the driver’s buckboard, keeping the reins steady for Felix and Fifi by habit. “I was required to learn it for my school’s social events. I could teach you since there’s going to be a ballroom dance where we’re headed.”

“I would love that.” She gave him another sunny smile as she tied her bonnet back on. “The sun’s heating my head, so I keep taking it off and putting it back on again.”

“Same with me.” He removed his tricorn hat and set it aside. The breeze cooled his curly black hair, which he kept short for comfort. “I could teach you something else right now, besides dancing.”

“What would that be?” 

“Driving. Would you like a turn holding the reins?” 

“Me?” She gave him an ‘are you mad?’ wide-eyed look. “Drive your carriage?” 

“Just hold the reins.” He passed the leather straps to her; she took them in both hands, gripping them in one fist—quite the wrong way.

“No, wait. Here.” He demonstrated the proper way to grip them—guiding her hand and wrapping the strap around her palm and fingers. “Are you right-handed, as I am?” 

“Yes.” The carriage slowed down to a crawl. She looked at him. “What’s happening?” 

“They sense someone giving them slack, so they think they’re getting a break.” Marcel put his hat back on, resisting the urge to take the reins back. “Jiggle it a little.”

She moved the leather straps back and forth, then pulled. The carriage slowed; the team fought their bits in stubborn indignation.

“No, don’t pull! Jiggle it.”

“Doesn’t it hurt their teeth with the bit in them? And the straps yanking on their mouths constantly?” She looked at him as she spoke, rather than the animals. Felix and Fifi halted, taking a break.

An impatient knock sounded on the glass window behind them. It was Luc. “Why did we stop?” they heard him call out from below.

“We’re fine, monsieur!” Marcel called down to Luc. “Just wiggle and jiggle the reins to tell them to go,” he said to Adelaide. “Think of it as if you’re knocking on a door or ringing a bell to get the horse’s attention.” 

“How are you able to do it so well?” Adelaide laughed nervously. She sat up straight and held the reins correctly, giving them light jiggles. Felix and Fifi moved, pulling the carriage onward.

“See, you’re getting it!” Marcel encouraged her. “I’ve driven a carriage since I was fifteen or so. After a while, I learned to get a feel for handling the reins. And Felix and Fifi know me, so don’t feel bad.”

She wiggled the reins back and forth. The two animals gained such sudden speed that Marcel and Adelaide jolted in their seats.

“Oh, goodness!” She clutched the side of the seat after the sudden movement. “They’re going! So, I keep jiggling?”

“Keep your hand still. Release a little—no, let your hand out and forward. No! Pull it in more!”

The reins slacked; the team slowed down and stopped again. “They think they can stop again because you let loose,” said Marcel, eager to take the reins back, yet still enjoying the instruction. “Jiggle them again.”

Luc’s voice came from the window behind them. “Why are you stopping and starting, monsieur?”

“We’re fine! Just the horses!” Marcel called down to them with a light laugh.

“They seem fine now.” Adelaide kept a steady hand on the reins.

“See, you have it. You’re driving,” Marcel praised her. “Felix and Fifi can’t tell who’s controlling them now. They think it’s me.” 

“As long as they don’t turn around and look, correct?” Her hand loosened as she spoke.

“Keep your rein hand up and steady!”

They watched Felix and Fifi trot at an even pace, flicking their white manes. Adelaide’s hands remained steady while Marcel took in the fragrance of spring blossoms, his half-Pegasi posing as regular horses, and the anticipation–and dread–of the future ahead of him. 

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