The party was in full swing, lights everywhere, so bright it was almost blinding, music playing in every room, chatters and laughs bursting with each second passing by. The young landlord, handsome, elegant and arrogant, was walking with easiness among his guests, smiling and exchanging a few words with all of them. His keen eyes were everywhere, tracking any breach to his sacrosanct rule of perfection. His butler, following him like his shadow, was attentive to each expression of his master: a twist of the mouth meant that immediate action was required; a slight, elegant, move of the hand usually pointed out something that disturbed him; the worse was a frown. A frown was terrible, something was utterly wrong and it generally resulted in the expulsion of the offending person or removal of the offending item. The rest of the time a light smile hovered on the lord's aristocratic lips.
Petrel, the butler - whose real name was Peter, but his lord had decided that 'Petrel' sounded much better - started as the finely designed mouth of his lord slightly twisted. He quickly looked around and saw a young lady with a lock that had escaped her elegant chignon. Smoothly he went to her, bowed respectfully and then whispered to the pearly little ear:
"Madam, a most disgraceful lock is spoiling the perfection of both your brow and chignon."
She had a surprised look, quickly and very gracefully brushed her hand against her brow, and then had a silvery light laugh.
"Not at all, my friend. Oh my, you are criticising the latest mode as for hairstyle! You simply have to free some locks to give an air of soft hair that cannot be disciplined; it is the latest chic!"
Mortified, Petrel fought for keeping his dignity - such a mistake was unforgivable! - and silently begged his master for help. Lord Henryk - which, of course, wasn't his real name either, but 'Henryk' was more exotic than 'Henry' and thus closer to his idea of the perfect name - made his way to the young lady, politely bowed to her and said with the slight accent he was forcing himself to have:
"Dear lady, may I be of some help to you?"
"Dear Lord Henryk, I am quite afraid your butler made a slight mistake about my hairstyle. Believe me, this loose lock is here on purpose."
"Really, my lady? This is quite astonishing," murmured Lord Henryk.
"I went to the hairdresser's today - you know I would never offend you by being neglected for one of your so delightful parties - and this new hairdresser is absolutely fabulous, Lord Henryk! He comes from the capital and showed us several new styles truly amazing! I wanted to mostly keep a classical style for I did not know if you would have been aware of this hairdresser's presence here, since the women in your household are quite secret."
Lord Henryk was quite surprised: how was it that a new hairdresser could have come in his land without him being informed? It was intolerable! A move of the crowd toward the entrance door made him turn the head by reflex and then Petrel saw on his master's face an expression he had almost never seen before: wild disbelief, which was even worse than the frown!
"Heavens above!" he breathed. "This is most utterly shocking! This new hairdresser has a dreadful lack of taste!"
"Dreadful?" repeated the young lady blankly. "Lack of taste?"
Lord Henryk was renowned for his good taste; if he didn't approve something, it had to be discarded immediately. Anything he had blamed or criticised was doomed to fail.
"Petrel!" Lord Henryk called, a frown on his perfect brow.
"Yes, Master?"
"This view is sickening me. Do something about it."
"Of course, Master."
Petrel had become very good at driving people away from his master's so esteemed parties and it didn't take him more than two minutes before the offending group of ten people had left the manor. The young lady who had unwillingly started it all had brushed her loose lock back in her chignon and everything was back to normal. Lord Henryk sighed of satisfaction.
"Very well done, Petrel," he said.
"Thank you, Master."
Noticing the worried look of his guests, Lord Henryk smiled his perfect smile showing perfect white teeth.
"Do not worry, dear guests and friends. Mistakes and transgressions are allowed and forgiven, as long as they are not repeated. You know I am a most forgiving man..."
Everybody nodded fervently, not really anxious to contradict him. After a reassuring smile, Lord Henryk resumed his walking among his guests, still followed by Petrel.
Not long after the incident, someone laughed, a forced, clipped laugh. Lord Henryk slowed down his pace.
"Petrel!"
"Yes, Master?"
"This laugh is very disturbing. It hurts my hearing. Obviously this person is suffering. Do something about it."
"Yes, Master."
The person with the upsetting laugh was showed the way to the door and Lord Henryk's face recovered its calm and smile.
Petrel was called away by the manservant at the entrance door and he came back very pale.
"Master," he murmured, his voice trembling, looking very much like someone who had been terribly shocked.
"What is it, Petrel?" replied Lord Henryk with his usual feigned indifference.
"Someone wishes to see you, Master, but, oh! This is dreadful! This person is most... I mean... totally... I am sorry, Master, I have no word able to describe her to you without being rude and impolite."
"Not so loud!" commanded Lord Henryk.
Petrel whispered into his master's ear:
"She is ugly beyond belief."
That simple word almost made Lord Henryk choke.
"Did someone see her?" he asked.
"No, Master. But she said all would see her if you do not go in person to her."
"What an ordeal, o Lord!" Lord Henryk whispered.
Petrel was afraid his Master would faint for his usual fair skin had taken a grey colour that looked none-too-healthy.
"I will see her," said Lord Henryk.
He walked straight to the entrance door, stopping only once, near two women, one of them obviously being the mother of the other one and the daughter being utterly beautiful.
"My lady," he said, kissing the hand of the older woman, "you and your delightful daughter should come back another day, when it is less busy than now..."
"My lord, it would be our privilege," replied politely the woman, proud that he had distinguished her daughter among all the other women.
He slightly bowed and continued his path.
Near the entrance door, hidden in the shadows - Lord Henryk made a mental note for congratulating his servant for his presence of mind - was a woman so terribly ugly that it sent a shudder through him. Nevertheless his affected politeness forbade him to show any of his repulsion.
"Good evening, my lady. I am Lord Henryk, ruler of these lands. May I be of some help to you?" he asked, slightly bowing.
"Oh, certainly, young man," she retorted with a cackling voice. "The weather is getting a bit cold, I wondered if I could find shelter here for my old aching bones."
"Winter is hardly begun yet, my lady," objected Lord Henryk.
"You won't see me as long as I'll stay here," she promised.
He shuddered again: how could he spend the whole winter knowing there was this shabby ugly woman wandering around his beautiful manor? His disgust took the better of him and he exclaimed:
"Oh no, you cannot stay! It would be too horrible to stand!"
His false accent, his feigned polite manners, his entire façade disappeared at the same time. The old woman had a knowing smile and said:
"I agree it would be quite hard to stay in your manor for the whole winter, but I'm ready to go through this ordeal if something good comes of it at the end."
"Ordeal?" repeated Lord Henryk, offended.
"Well, young man, it is an ordeal to spend a whole winter with someone as ugly as you are."
"Ugly? Me? Take a mirror, old woman, and look at yourself before insulting other people!"
"Young man, you would better forget everything about yourself and begin to care for others. Find a wench and settle down!"
"A wench?" laughed Lord Henryk. "I can find a wench whenever I want. Any of these women present tonight would give anything to belong to me."
"You are even uglier than I thought you were," said the old woman, sadly shaking the head.
"Old woman, you are tiring my patience," he warned her.
"You are ugly," she stated. "And if all those people that you invited could see you as I see you, they would run away from here in fear for never coming back!"
Lord Henryk contained himself for not shouting: he didn't want to alert his guests!
"Old woman, you go too far," he hissed between his teeth. "You better leave this place by yourself before I call my servants to throw you out like the monstrosity you are!"
"There you go, revealing your real self! Are you beginning to see how ugly you are? Selfish, superficial, you are just a liar in front of the men and the Gods."
"This is enough!" enraged Lord Henryk. "Petrel, show the door to this old crone!"
"Wait! I want you to know whom you are dealing with. I'm not any old woman; I'm a witch, and, as some would say, I'm not good, I'm not nice, I'm just right1. Maybe knowing this you will understand where everything will come from... Listen to me, vain lord: eyes shall see what was hidden and what was in the open shall lie beneath until balance is found. Remember my words, young man, and you'll live longer!"
She laughed and disappeared in a cloud of mist.
Petrel was worried; he was quite superstitious and just the word 'witch' had been enough to send shivers down his spine. But Lord Henryk only laughed, his usual polite façade being back now that the offending person wasn't standing anymore in front of him.
"Do not worry, Petrel," he said with a commanding tone. "Look around you: everything is as it should be, shining perfection. She cannot harm me, I am the lord of these lands! I am sure she is not even a witch, she was just trying to frighten us."
Petrel nodded, not really convinced - especially after the way she had left the manor - but it was true that everything around was unchanged.
"She cannot harm us, Petrel," continued Lord Henryk, "because we have already reached the balance she was talking about, even though she did not notice it."
At this, Petrel was sure that pride was blinding his master's mind: in his manor, everything was excess. But then, Petrel was someone clever and didn't breathe a word of his thoughts. He followed his master as he was used to and saw him flirt with Dawn, daughter of Lady Aurora, whom he had talked earlier to. Dawn was still young and the interest that Lord Henryk showed to her made her profusely blush, which, Petrel had to admit it, made her look even more beautiful. Seeing everything so normal, Petrel began to relax progressively, still keeping a vigilant eye on his master, ready to intervene.
Everybody seemed to have forgotten the incident about the hairstyle - or else they were acting as if, which wouldn't have surprised Petrel, who knew the power of dissimulation held by the regular visitors of this master's parties. Strangely he felt relieved when Lord Henryk called it for the night, gallantly leading Lady Aurora and her daughter to the main door, putting a burning kiss on Dawn's hand, making her cheeks flaming red. Petrel knew his master's behaviour by heart - the same way he knew how to read the women's reactions to Lord Henryk's declared interest.
The last guest gone, Lord Henryk came back toward Petrel.
"This young Dawn is quite interesting," he said with a self-important tone.
"Yes, Master," half-sighed Petrel.
"Did you see her? One snap of my fingers and she would have been mine tonight! Oh, well, she will be tomorrow..."
"She's still an innocent, Master," murmured Petrel.
Lord Henryk shrugged, yawned openly and decided to go to bed. Petrel understood perfectly no other word could be said about Dawn.
The following morning, Petrel was awakened by a knock at his door; he turned the head to look at the clock and sighed with exasperation when he saw it was only seven o'clock. Those day-servants couldn't respect anything; they knew nothing of the parties organised by their master, everything was taken care by a special staff and so they often came knocking at Petrel's door, since he was supposed to give them orders.
"What is it?" he called back without moving.
"We just received a message from Lady Aurora, asking if, per chance, our Master was not too busy today," replied the servant.
A message from Lady Aurora, so early in the day! She was probably in hurry to conclude this affair; every mother - and every eligible maiden - had that insane hope their daughter would be the chosen one. Petrel knew better.
"The Master will be available for her around the middle of the afternoon," he said after a thought.
"Very well."
Petrel heard the steps going away and he fell back on his pillows with a sigh of satisfaction. Then he frowned: Lord Henryk, most probably, would want to know the news immediately. Petrel looked thoughtfully at his clock: it was still early, both for him and his master. With this comforting thought, he closed the eyes and fell asleep again.
He awoke again a bit before noon and hurried to get ready the fastest possible: his master would want to look at his best. He hastened in the corridors, noticing vaguely that they were empty, contrary to usually, when the servants were all chattering and rushing to their work as soon as they saw him. He entered silently his master's rooms, half-pulled the heavy curtains before coming next to the bed and then, he froze, terrified...
How could it be? There, where he had left his master the night before, sleeping peacefully, was a horrible monster, covered with thick rough fur, with shining fangs and sharp claws. Petrel thought he would die of fright; he stumbled on the part of the coverlet that was on the ground and fell heavily. Too frightened to think clearly, he tried to run away on all fours, until a familiar voice stopped him:
"Well, Petrel, what in Heaven's name are you doing on the floor, crawling like a newborn?"
"Ma... Master?" he faltered out, not really daring to turn around.
The voice was familiar, true, but there was something strange in it, too. To be true, his own voice wasn't sounding right either.
"You could have combed your hair properly this morning, Petrel," said Lord Henryk severely.
Petrel was surprised: he had combed his hair, though he hadn't checked the result in the mirror, for he was in a hurry. He turned to see his master and choked back his cry of fear; Lord Henryk grew deadly pale.
"What is this masquerade, Petrel? How dare you present yourself to me in such a state?"
"I do not know what you are talking about, Master, but... tell me what happened to you?"
Lord Henryk frowned.
"What do you mean?" he said sharply.
Still crawling Petrel came to his master and, trembling, offered him his mirror. Lord Henryk had a shrieking shout.
"My face! My beautiful face! Petrel, what happened?"
"I do not know, Master," answered the butler miserably.
"And you are in the same state as me, Petrel! You should know! Your ignorance is an insult! You should already have thought to a remedy, a cure, anything! Is it that you do not care for me being cursed?"
"Cursed... Naturally, a curse! The witch yesterday!"
Without waiting for his master's answer, he ran out of the rooms, straight to the day-staff's quarters. They were all hiding there and, as Petrel had guessed it, all of them were transformed, maybe less hideously than the master, but still none of them had the fair face they had before. Nobody cried in fright when seeing him irrupting in their quarters; they all were ashamed and resigned to their horrible fate.
Having seen what he wanted, Petrel left the manor and ventured in town. Obviously the townsmen were waking up earlier than their lord, for the town was strangely silent and the streets were empty. Then he heard shouts coming from a far street and he hurried this way.There, on a small square, several people were throwing stones at someone else, who was trying to hide her face in her arms. Petrel barked some orders and they all recognised the voice of the trusted messenger of their lord, so they stepped back, hatred shining in their eyes. Petrel came to the girl and gently pushed away her hands, wondering what horror he was going to see. Surprise froze him on the spot: contrary to what he thought, she wasn't horrible at all! Actually, compared to all those surrounding them, she was even very pretty.
"Don't hurt me more, please," she begged softly.
Petrel had never been considered as a gentle man, though he was extremely polite, but the plea of this girl moved him and, what's more, she was looking normal, so maybe she held the cure to the curse without knowing it. He put his arm around her shoulders.
"Come with me, child," he said gently, surprised she didn't jerk away from him when he was so very ugly.
The townsmen hissed in spite and disappointment, but dispersed as soon as Petrel looked at them, most probably looking for another victim. Petrel thought that he would have to send messengers everywhere, to protect people and, maybe, find the cure.
He hurried back to the manor and, once there, began to gather everybody, day- and night-servants all the same. He asked a maidservant to take care of the girl and explained to the others what he was expecting from them. Each of them took care of having on their clothes an emblem showing his or her belonging to Lord Henryk's staff and then, they all spread in town, going to each house, asking everybody for normal people. They found some corpses, for, obviously, the townsmen were very angry of their new appearance and were avenging themselves on all those still looking human. Petrel himself was of the hunt, having forgotten everything, even Lady Aurora and her daughter. He had thought of them very briefly, assuming they were as ugly as the rest of them and thus that they wouldn't show up.
Entering a simple house, he found a father and his two daughters. He asked his usual question, if there was someone in his family who hadn't been touched by the curse and the father answered:
"Yes, my lord, there is. My youngest daughter."
"She has been touched!" shrieked the eldest daughter.
"Yes, it's unfair!" underlined the second one.
Petrel frowned and the two girls fell quiet.
"My youngest daughter, who had nothing particular as for look, is now of a stunning beauty," said the father.
Petrel almost shouted of joy at the news. He hadn't met someone beautiful yet, only, well, normal people by his usual criteria.
"Where is she? She is coming with me at the manor. My Master requires her presence."
The father looked at him and his gaze took a crafty glow. He said slowly:
"Naturally, my lord, you understand that I cannot allow myself to separate with my daughter. She works for me and her absence would cost me greatly."
"Are you telling me you are selling your child to me?" said Petrel bluntly, disgusted by the suggestion.
"Selling may be a big word, my lord. I am but a poor man, my lord, and though I have to feed her, my daughter is more useful to me with me than with our lord."
"And I guess you would rather have her stoned to death than letting her live at my Master's manor... Very well, bad father, here is your money. Now tell me where the girl is."
The father took greedily the purse Petrel was giving him and then indicated where his daughter had gone. Petrel left immediately, troubled by a bad premonition. The shouts and insults he soon heard reinforced his opinion and he broke into a run.
The girl was curled up against the wall, stones leaving bloody marks on her fair skin, but even though, she wasn't uttering the smallest sound. Petrel was afraid she might already be dead. He broke through the angry mob, lifted the girl in his arms and prepared to leave, but the townsmen were not of the same opinion. Petrel frowned and exclaimed:
"Who will dare to defy my Master's law? He needs this girl, nobody will forbid me to bring her to him!"
Nobody moved, but two streets further, some people from Lord Henryk had heard Petrel's voice and they came to his rescue. Thus surrounded by his own men, Petrel could leave without any problem. The girl in his arms was still motionless, her head hidden behind her arms, but something was telling him she was the one he was looking for.
Arrived at the manor, Petrel wanted to care himself for the girl, so that he would know immediately if she was the one he had literally bought from her father. But a maidservant, indignant, shooed him out of the room and took care of the girl herself. She was ugly, as everybody in the manor, but she hadn't the fur that was covering pretty much everybody else. Nevertheless, despite all the confidence she had shown to Petrel, she was half-trembling when approaching the girl curled up on the bed. What was she going to see? Gently, she pushed away the hands, but the muscles were tense and she had to force her to relax. The wide-open eyes struck her in the heart: the gaze was only fear, no space left for anything else in these huge eyes.
"Hush, little one," the maidservant whispered, "I am not going to hurt you."
She thought for a moment the girl would curl up again, but then, no, she was just looking at her, motionless.
"Can you talk? Do you understand me?"
She nodded silently and the maidservant had absolutely no idea which question she was answering.
"What is your name? Mine is Elisea."
"Pen... Penelope."
The voice was so scared that no other feeling could show in it. Her face maybe was pretty, but Elisea couldn't see by herself, for there was so much blood soiling it. She held out a hand toward the girl's brow, to push back a loose lock, and immediately, Penelope hid her face behind her arms, as if expecting to be hit. Elisea frowned; she couldn't have learnt to react like that in just one day, this girl had probably been mistreated before!
"I will not hurt you, I promise," she said gently.
"But I'm dirty... I'm always punished when I'm dirty," she half-whimpered, looking at her bloody arms.
"You are hurt, child, not dirty!" protested Elisea, indignant.
"No, I stained my clothes..."
Elisea shivered; Penelope was more like a frightened child than a grown woman.
"Penelope, child, come with me. A bath will do good to your injuries."
She looked at the servant with huge eyes, as if she didn't really believe her. Elisea smiled and held out her hand to her. Timidly, Penelope put her hand in the servant's and followed her docilely.
Once cleaned of all the dirt and blood covering her, Penelope was truly breathtaking and Elisea felt a small point of jealousy. She led her by the hand outside the room, where Petrel was waiting for her impatiently.
"At last!" he exclaimed when the door opened.
He fell silent as soon as he saw Penelope. Never had he seen such a beauty and yet, in his master's parties, the most beautiful women of the land were gathered.
"She is... simply perfect," he breathed.
Elisea had to agree and the blush covering Penelope's cheeks only added to her beauty.
"The Master will be delighted to see you, my lady," Petrel said, bowing in front of Penelope.
"Petrel!" called Elisea. "Be gentle with her. She is like a frightened bird."
Petrel nodded and as he was leading Penelope to Lord Henryk, he soon discovered Elisea was right. A surge of pity swept through him: what was he doing, leading this doe-like girl to the predator that was his master? And his heart, which he had so often refused to listen to, opened wide for Penelope.
"Child," he whispered, "no matter what you see or what you hear, I promise you I will not let you be harmed in any way. Do you understand?"
She looked at him and nodded silently.
Just before knocking at his master's door, Petrel had a last look at Penelope; she wasn't dressed very richly, but she was so beautiful he almost didn't notice it. Her hair was still wet - and Lord Henryk hated that. Petrel had a strange smile, shrugged and murmured:
"Too bad for him."
He knocked at the door and called:
"Master? Here is a young woman for you to see."
"Go away, Petrel! Do you think I want to see any young woman in the state I am currently?"
"You need to see her, Master. Let me explain, please!"
Lord Henryk finally gave his consent and Petrel whispered to Penelope:
"Wait for me here, child."
He entered the room of his master and not even ten minutes had passed that Lord Henryk accepted to see Penelope. Petrel motioned the girl inside and had a reassuring smile for her. When seeing Lord Henryk, she stepped back, fear invading again her huge eyes.
"What a surprise!" Lord Henryk said quite bitterly. "She is afraid of me. I wonder why she is, truly..."
"Master, please," Petrel half-scolded him. "She had a traumatising experience."
"Very well, Petrel, I will not mock your little protégée. So, tell me, young lady, why are you still looking normal, I could even say, beautiful?" he added with an appreciative look. "Petrel, you could have looked for her to be properly clothed and her hair done."
"Master, I saw to what was most urgent," replied coldly his butler.
"Well, young lady, are you dumb? Why do you not answer my question?"
"I do not know, sir," she whispered, terrified, cuddling against the wall. "I was plain and then, people threw stones to me, calling me a freak..."
"She does not know anything, Petrel! She does not even know how to address her lord!" exclaimed Lord Henryk, exasperated. "What am I supposed to do with such a girl? And you said you paid for her?"
At those words, Penelope blushed hotly.
"I'm not that kind of girl!" she protested.
Lord Henryk had a brief laugh.
"Child, I would not have paid for you. Anyway, I can have as many women as I want without paying a penny. But Petrel had to buy you from your father."
"He... he sold me?"
"Yes, child, he did. Is he not a loving father?"
"Master!" exclaimed Petrel, coming by Penelope's side and putting his arm around her shoulders. "You did not need to tell her that."
"She needs to know she belongs to me. She is mine, I paid for her, she is my slave, so I can treat her the way I want."
"Then, Master, I am sorry to be the one telling you this, but I will stand between you and her. Is it that your new appearance reflect the darkness of your soul?"
Before Lord Henryk could react on his butler's insolence, Petrel said:
"That's it! That is the curse!"
"What are you babbling about?" frowned Lord Henryk.
"Remember, Master! The witch said: 'Eyes shall see what was hidden and what was in the open shall lie beneath until balance is found'. What was hidden? Our soul. What was in the open? Our appearance. She switched the beauty - or lack of - of our soul against the beauty of our appearance. And obviously, this girl, little Penelope, had one of the most beautiful souls ever seen!"
"So now you are telling me that my soul was the one of a monstrous beast?" asked Lord Henryk sarcastically.
"Stop acting like a child, Master. Just look at how you are behaving toward this innocent girl! Do you not understand that this is the cure to your curse?"
"Explain it to me, Petrel, I am afraid my poor mind is not as enlightened as yours."
Petrel frowned in answer of his master's irony.
"Your pleasant appearance has been replaced by the equivalent of your soul's beauty; obviously, if I am to believe what the witch said, your soul is not really pleasant to look at. To revert to your previous appearance, you need to change your soul, to make it more beautiful, until the moment when your soul and outer appearance will be in balance. Then will the spell be broken."
"And how can I achieve that goal, Petrel?"
Petrel shrugged.
"I do not know. Try being nice to Lady Penelope. Since she is so beautiful now, her soul was already beautiful, so you can probably make progresses just by talking with her and she will as probably forgive you most of your rudeness."
"But if I am to believe what you said, her soul has been switched with her appearance, which was, she told it herself, plain. So now her soul is not the same."
"Ah, forgive me, Master, I did not express myself properly. Her soul is still the same, as is yours. Just that now, you can see the soul instead of just an appearance empty of meaning. Unless I am mistaken on your tastes, Master, you will find her soul rather beautiful to look at."
Lord Henryk had only a quick glance for the perfect beauty standing in front of him but not even the doe-like eyes could make him feel better.
"Yes, she is," he agreed, suddenly weary. "Even breathtaking, heartbreaking, whatever! Take her away, Petrel, I feel like an ugly monster."
Petrel had a reassuring smile for Penelope who, as they were leaving, said gently:
"I'm sorry."
Petrel actually beamed of joy when hearing those words and Lord Henryk thought bitterly that his faithful butler had been touched by this angel; he wondered a brief instant if he hadn't seen some of Petrel's ugliness melting away under his very eyes but he dismissed the thought.
After the meeting with Lord Henryk, Petrel had to care for the land business; he settled down at his huge desk, Penelope sitting in the big armchair next to him, and he absorbed himself in planning what would be his next move. Petrel was not only Lord Henryk's butler, he was also his confident and his right hand man. Nothing could happen in the land without Petrel knowing. He considered the situation quite critically; first of all, he knew how to solve the problem - and he was proud of himself as for this. Then, people were stoning those whose mind was less petty than their own and it wouldn't do any good to them...
Petrel thus decided it was more than time to hire new servants; he rang his bell, calling the whole staff in his office. They received precise orders: to find all the 'normal' looking people and bring them to the manor, while spreading everywhere the reason of the curse - and the way to be cured. Petrel wasn't really sure that it would stop the stoning, but maybe among the blood-thirsty beasts lurking in the land would there be one or two cleverer than the others and they would understand. Then he ordered his spies to relate to him any new behaviour in the population. He couldn't allow the general moral to go down and, above all, nobody could suspect that, at the origin, it was Lord Henryk's fault. There was no need for a revolution just right now.
Once he was done with all his work, he turned to Penelope, who was gently waiting for him to have time. He decided arbitrarily that Elisea and he would care for her mostly until the moment she would feel more confident to wander in the manor, among its rather terrifying inhabitants. Seeing her so gentle, so frightened too, Petrel felt a surge of hatred toward her father, who had probably mistreated her. She seemed to be always afraid of doing wrong, as he found out when Elisea related to him what had happened after her meeting with Lord Henryk.
Back with Elisea - after Petrel had taken care of the land business - Penelope timidly asked what was wrong with her clothes and hair. Elisea, not understanding at once, asked more questions and understood quickly that Lord Henryk had made some very disobliging remarks. The maidservant got angry with her master.
"This girl is so beautiful she could be in rags and she would still make a princess dressed in gold look shabby!" she exclaimed. "It's time our Master looks beyond affectation and considers true beauty."
She got even angrier when Penelope wondered aloud how to address Lord Henryk and when she discovered the girl crying on her bed because her father had sold her to Petrel. The butler was watching Elisea's outburst with mild surprise. It seemed that Penelope's simple presence was enough to make each and everyone's better side come in the open.
To Lord Henryk's credit, he really tried to go along with Penelope. Each morning, he called the girl in his rooms and tried to talk to her. It was not very easy, because Penelope was obviously scared to death of him and, more than half the time, she was curling up in her chair, looking at him with huge eyes filled with fear. Lord Henryk, who had always been very proud of his politeness - even affected - was driven mad by this behaviour. As he was once yelling at Petrel that all this was useless, Petrel fired back:
"Then alright, I will let you to your doom, but do not forbid others to find the cure! Look at Elisea and see the progress she made! Penny... I mean, Lady Penelope is just trying very hard to do everything to please you and you never acknowledge her effort, nor thank her! She is fighting her fear all she can and for what? For having you sending her away like a street rat! How fair is that, Master? True, she is not clothed in gold and silver, because her tastes are simple; true, her hair is not done following the latest fashion, but tell me really, who cares? She is just a child, Master, a child scared and mistreated because she was not meeting with your exigencies and now that she is, everybody turns her down because she is the only one to be beautiful! Have you thus no heart, Master, to turn her down too? She cries each time she comes back from your rooms, heartbroken because she thinks she is failing you. Master, please, let the true nature of you speak when you see Penny, let your very heart lead you in this..."
Lord Henryk didn't answer immediately. He was observing Petrel very closely and noticed some subtle changes: the fur on the butler's face was a lot thinner and soft in aspect, his fair features were beginning to be more visible; the claws on his hands had disappeared for letting place to something looking more like nails. Petrel saw his gaze on him and half-smiled.
"Yes, Master, by being with Penny, I changed. I cannot help it, my heart speaks before my mind each time she is near. You know I am not the kind to sacrifice my life for others, but for Penny, I would give it gladly, once, twice, ten times, a million times! I would kill to spare her any pain and I would really die if it could make her happy."
"And thus you stand for her against me," said Lord Henryk bitterly.
"I am sorry, Master, but I promised her I would protect her. I took her from her familiar environment, saving her life, this is true, but she is saving my soul. Please, Master, let her touch your soul too?"
Lord Henryk nodded, too tired for fighting again. If the witch were here she would have been surprised in the changes that had already happened. No more parties at the castle, for Lord Henryk couldn't stand to look at so much ugliness. As he was going to bed earlier, he was waking up a lot earlier too, always tired, for he couldn't get enough sleep. He had lost a lot of weight and wasn't even caring for it, when he had always been concerned about his weight. Instead of concentrating on frivolous things, he was reading most of the time or discussing with Petrel - or Penelope. But his heart was still like stone.
Poor little Penelope was trembling - as usual - when she received her convocation to Lord Henryk's rooms. She checked a last time her hair was dry so that she wouldn't upset him right from the beginning. She was wearing her favourite dress, a marvel compared to what she was used to wear, but something very simple and plain for the inhabitants of the manor. Elisea wanted her to wear some jewels, but she refused.
"No, he will think I stole them!"
Elisea knew who 'he' was - the Master - and she was shocked by the implications.
"Of course not, child, he would never think that!"
"I'm his slave, a slave can't wear jewels," persisted Penelope.
Elisea almost fell back.
"Do not ever say that again, child! No matter what the Master said, you are not a slave."
"I am, Elisa, without his intervention, I would be dead now, stoned by my neighbours."
"It is not the Master who saved you, it's Petrel," insisted Elisea, actually liking hearing her real name after so long.
A genuine smile appeared on Penelope's lips as Petrel was coming in to lead her to Lord Henryk's rooms.
"Yes, I know, thank you, Peter."
Nor Petrel neither Elisea had complained of Penelope's strange habit of calling people with their real names instead of using the substitutes arbitrarily decided by Lord Henryk. She had never asked for the names, she had always guessed them by herself.
"Penny, come, he's waiting for you."
"No, wait, Petrel, I will accompany her. I want to ask the Master if she can wear jewels, she is afraid to be treated of thief."
Petrel raised the eyebrows but didn't make any remark.
Lord Henryk was more than surprised to see Elisea - whom he didn't get to see very often - and he had to admit that she was looking better than she was at the beginning.
"Master, I wanted to ask your permission for letting Lady Penelope wear the family jewels," she said respectfully.
Lord Henryk looked surprised.
"Why, of course! Everything in this manor is hers. Did she not know this?"
"No, Master, she was afraid to upset you."
"Oh, child, I am so sorry," apologised Lord Henryk and Penelope was frozen on the spot, unable to move nor think, too stupefied by the accent of sincerity ringing in his voice. "You can do everything you want in this manor, everything is at your disposition."
"Thank you, my lord," she murmured, eyes cast down.
Lord Henryk was oddly pleased by her change of addressing and slightly smiled... revealing his bright-white fangs. Penelope shivered, wrapping her arms around her middle as to protect herself. The young lord remembered in time what he was and stopped smiling. Penelope relaxed a bit, but fear was still present in her eyes.
"Actually," Lord Henryk added suddenly, "I myself had something to offer to our young guest."
"Really?" murmured Elisea.
Lord Henryk went to get a casket and opened it in front of Penelope. There, on crimson velvet, were shining pure diamonds and Elisea, thunderstruck, recognised the wedding set of diamonds of Lord Henryk's mother. Never before had Lord Henryk opened that particular casket in front of a woman; he had sometimes shown the other family jewels, but never this one, that he kept preciously in his room. Elisea knew that he had loved very much his mother, who had been utterly beautiful, for all Elisea had heard, but she had never seen her, for she had died before, devastating her son.
Penelope looked at the diamonds then up at Lord Henryk.
"My lord?" she asked tentatively.
"Do they no please you?"
"They do, my lord, but I'm not worthy of them. I'm just a common girl and those are very precious..."
"More precious than you can guess, Lady Penelope," murmured Lord Henryk, unexpectedly pained to see these jewels.
Elisea slipped away unnoticed, feeling her place wasn't here anymore. Penelope gently closed the casket lid, took it from Lord Henryk's hands and put it on the table next to her.
"Henry," she said softly, "you can be yourself, I won't tell anyone."
Lord Henryk wanted to cry, the pain of having lost his mother suddenly overwhelming. Penelope put her hand against his furry cheek and led him to his chair where he collapsed more than gracefully sat as he usually did. Standing next to him, she took his head in her arms and cradled him against her, humming a soothing tone. And the proud lord of the land shamelessly cried in the arms of the common girl.
"You are so beautiful and I am so ugly," he sobbed. "How can you hold me in your arms? And she was so beautiful, she would be so ashamed of me! Why are you so good?"
She didn't answer, she just held him tighter against her, almost rocking him in her arms and caressing his hair.
"Hush, my lord," she said. "You know it's not true. Yes, you are ugly and then what? The whole land is ugly, why should you be different?"
"But you are different."
"Yes, my lord, but not that long ago, I was ugly following your criteria. And I still am, despite what I hear, because you always find something wrong in the way I'm dressed or the way my hair is done and everybody knows you have a very good taste."
If Lord Henryk had known how to blush, maybe he would have done so at that particular moment, where gentle Penelope was underlining his defects.
"No," he protested, "you are really beautiful, it is just that I... I always want more," he concluded slowly, beginning to realise what exactly he was doing.
"Yes! Yes, my lord, continue like this!" Penelope encouraged him.
"But what can I do, lady Penelope?" he asked desperately.
"First, my lord, stop calling me 'lady Penelope', for I am no lady. You can call me Penelope or Penny if you prefer," she replied seriously, still holding him in her arms.
"But... it would not be proper!"
"My lord, forgive me for being so blunt, but you are a beast and nobody cares for what is proper for beasts. For all I know, you can be awfully rude and nobody would mind. And secondly, it's not a question of politeness: I asked you to call me by my first name, so what would be rude would be to persist in your ways."
Lord Henryk looked at her in disbelief.
"May I know what you know about politeness?" he asked aggressively. "Do you know that if I call you by your first name, people will believe we are very close, closer than you would ever like - and allow!"
As he was snarling at her, Penelope let her arms fall by her sides, looking fixedly at Lord Henryk, fear slowly invading her eyes. She braced herself as if she was expecting to receive a blow any sooner or later. But the young lord didn't notice it.
"What would you say if I was to treat you the same way I treated all the other young and beautiful ladies crossing my path when I was handsome?"
Panic swept through Penelope who, innocent as she was, understood only too well what Lord Henryk was meaning. She stepped back, resisting the urge to call Petrel to rescue her. As he extended the hand toward her with an intention that wasn't clearly defined, her courage abandoned her and she ran away, tears running free from her eyes.
When Elisea closed her arms on Penelope crying silently as usual, her usually gentle eyes - when looking at Penelope - took an adamantine glow. Petrel arrived almost at once, alerted by the soft noise of the running feet in the corridor.
"What hap..."
He didn't finish his sentence when seeing Penelope with tears on her cheeks.
"What did he do to her again?" he half-roared.
But Penelope, ashamed and blushing furiously, refused to answer, hiding her face and averting her eyes. Petrel took her in his arms as if she was his daughter and rocked her gently against him.
"There, my Penny, I am sorry, I will not let him do that to you again, I promise..."
"Don't force me to go see him again, please, Peter, he frightens me so..." she pleaded with a soft voice.
Elisea and Petrel exchanged a desperate glance.
"She is the only one who can save him - us," murmured Elisea.
"We cannot force her. We need to build her confidence first. Look at her, she is just a frightened bird, do you not remember, Elisea?"
Elisea nodded painfully and Petrel whispered into Penelope's ear:
"Do not worry, my Penny, I will not let him near you if you do not want it so, I swear it to you on my very life."
"No, no, don't swear me this, he would harm you, maybe kill you!" panicked Penelope.
"No, trust me, he will not. I know how to handle him, please trust me."
He wiped her tears away and gently raised her chin with his finger.
"There, no more danger, smile for me, Penny, my child!"
She offered him a shy smile, but so trusting that Petrel felt his heart melt with love for her.
Lord Henryk was indeed very angry when, as Penelope wasn't answering his convocation, he found her door closed to him, Petrel standing firm in front of it, arms crossed on his chest.
"Let me pass, Petrel," growled Lord Henryk. "This is my manor, I am the master here!"
"I am sorry to stand against you, Master, but Penny is more to me than would be any child of my own flesh and blood and I will not let you harm her in any way."
Lord Henryk raised his paw and Petrel didn't move, though he was no half as powerful as his master.
"You would let me hurt you for her?" asked Lord Henryk, incredulously, when he knew Petrel had always avoided fights for keeping his face fair and good-looking.
"I would, Master, and I apologise in advance, but I would answer your blows by some of my own."
"She is my slave, I paid for her!"
"I paid for her, so she is rightfully mine and though I am your servant, I am not your slave!"
"You paid with my money!"
"What do you know of this? You were not there, you were hiding in your manor the same way you are still doing, too conceited and afraid people will mock you after having admired you! Well, know something: those people out there, whom you fear so much, almost as much Penny fears you, do not care for you! They are like you, so shocked by their own tragedy that they would not react were they to see you right in front of them!"
Lord Henryk was so stupefied by Petrel's outburst that he was totally unable to answer any of it.
"You do not know what is good for you! Stop caring so much for the outside beauty and try to see beyond it! Try to see the inner beauty of Penny, she is so kind and she could care so much for you if you would only let her do! Actually she already does and that is why she is so pained each time she comes back from your rooms! Now, if you do not mind, please go back to your rooms and leave Penny alone!"
Thunderstruck Lord Henryk saw his faithful butler change under his very eyes, losing the fur covering his face and body, his misshapen hands becoming again the long and elegant hands he had before.
"Petrel..." he finally managed to articulate, "you are back! You are yourself again!"
"I don't care!" half-shouted Petrel, even forgetting himself in his anger. "Why can't you understand this simple truth? I do not care!" he repeated, emphasising each word. "Thanks to my gentle Penny, I feel so much better, I feel in harmony with the world outside just because, for once, I care for it and I like it the way it is instead of trying to make it the way I want. I accept it the way it is. Nothing artificial, nothing affected, everything coming from the soul, from the very core, that is what Penny taught me without even trying. Can you understand that? No, you cannot, you are too vain for understanding this. Go away, you are not worthy to be in the same house as Penny, let alone the same room."
The contempt in Petrel's voice was so strong that it was almost tangible and Lord Henryk should have felt terribly upset, but he wasn't. Instead he was feeling rather ashamed, though not really knowing why and sort of annoyed with himself.
"Listen, Petrel," he began, "I understand she is a gentle soul..."
"Gentle soul! She is an angel, a true angel fallen from Heaven to rescue you and the only thing you manage to do is to scorn her!"
"Petrel..."
"Stop calling me Petrel! My name is Peter and I have never been so proud of it than when I heard Penelope say it!"
Lord Henryk suddenly turned the heels and left without adding a new word, leaving Petrel alone in front of Penelope's door.
For two weeks the young lord closed his own door to everybody, even - and above all - to Petrel. Penelope, more or less pampered and adored by Elisea and Petrel, began slowly to gain some confidence in herself, stopping to believe she would be punished for anything she had said or done wrong. Elisea, encouraged by Petrel's example, was herself again and Penelope thought her beautiful and never missed an occasion to say it. But Elisea, even with her beauty back, had kept some modesty and she was receiving the compliments with a light blush, when she had always taken them for granted before.
Then one morning, taking advantage of the fact that Petrel was caring for the land business, Lord Henryk came to knock at Penelope's door. Elisea opened the door - she had decided to be Penelope's personal maidservant, the same way Petrel was Lord Henryk's butler - and her face became defiant almost immediately.
"May I speak with Penelope, Elisa, please?" he asked humbly.
The maidservant gaped at her master. Whereas he had always taken care of his clothes, even under his new monstrous shape, he was now looking shabby or even worse. He seemed totally worn out, haunted by only the Gods knew what, and it was the very first time since she had been hired here that Elisea heard her real name from her master.
"Penny, dear, the Master would like to speak with you," she called softly.
Penelope came to the door and her face showed openly the distress she felt to see the young lord reduced to that pitiful state.
"Penelope," he said almost feverishly - and all the servants gathered a bit further heard him call the young guest by her first name - "I wanted to apologise and if you want to go back to your family, you are free to do so anytime you desire."
She shook the head.
"No, my lord, I cannot abandon you here if I am able to save you from your fate."
He looked down and murmured:
"How can you be willing to care for me when I have been so rude with you?"
"Because that's the way I am," she replied simply.
Lord Henryk didn't seem able to understand her point of view, her entire way of being. He had a nervous smile, bowed and left, now reassured that she would stay. Strangely, knowing this brought him peace and he felt less heavy-hearted.
Petrel was very surprised when Penelope, that very day, asked him thousands of questions about Lord Henryk. Not really knowing what exactly he could tell her or not, Petrel opted for telling her everything, trusting her implicitly. He wasn't really willing to criticise his master though, so he tried to attenuate a bit the truth. He spoke of the parties being organised every evening, lasting most of the night, he said Lord Henryk was a bit like a womaniser, and, to his surprise, Penelope blushed slightly and said gently:
"Don't distort the truth, Peter. Remember he told me himself that he could have any woman he wanted. I know already this part."
"This is true," he admitted. "But I do not think you know how far he can go."
"Then tell me," she replied firmly, though her cheeks were still red.
Petrel remained quiet a moment and finally told her about Dawn. The beautiful daughter of Lady Aurora wasn't the first one Lord Henryk had noticed, but it had been the first time Petrel had felt upset by his master's way to behave toward women. Penelope paled visibly, her cheeks changing from red to deadly pale.
"This young lady, Dawn... she is a bit like me," she said then, with a very low voice.
"Well, Dawn was very beautiful before the curse, almost as beautiful as you are now, but I guess her mother brought her up the same way all noble women are brought up here, to please Lord Henryk. I do not think that she has the same gentle soul as you do."
"Maybe," said Penelope thoughtfully, "but then, maybe not. We can still try."
"Try?" repeated Petrel, not understanding. "What do you want to try?"
"But to 'use' Dawn to help Lord Henryk, naturally!"
Petrel opened wide eyes in disbelief.
"I do not understand," he said hesitantly.
"Well, from what you told me, I think that both Lord Henryk and Dawn are interested in each other. Even if Dawn is as... huh... transformed as Lord Henryk, she still knows what to do to please him, while I don't. Naturally, the point is to transform Lord Henryk's superficial interest into something deeper, that would probably help a lot for saving his soul."
"Penny, my child, oh, my Penny, I am afraid that your stay at this place will have changed you forever. Am I dreaming or am I hearing you scheming?"
"No, Peter, I am no child anymore. Thanks to you and Elisa, I discovered that I wasn't that dirty and stupid child I thought I was, but instead a grown woman, no more stupid than anybody else."
"You do not need to remind me you are a woman, I already know this," mumbled Petrel.
She had an undefined smile and continued:
"I did not lose my innocence, Peter. I know I'm still naïve and I know also that I cannot save Lord Henryk's soul by myself. I need help and I think Dawn can help me. Will you help me too?"
"Penny, you know I would do anything you would ask me to."
"Then help me to find Dawn and bring her here," she said, blushing, but not daring to reply directly to the implications of Petrel's last sentence.
And so they did. They went to Lady Aurora's house and Petrel had almost to force the door to be allowed to enter. As he had guessed so long ago, Lady Aurora had been turned into a horrible creature, almost worthy of competing with Lord Henryk. Dawn was a bit better, though she was horrified by her own state; Lady Aurora was indeed very shocked to see Petrel looking perfectly normal - even being his usual handsome and elegant self - but she turned green with envy in front of Penelope - especially that Elisea had insisted to make her really breathtaking.
"Dear Petrel," she said, controlling her venom for Penelope, "this is indeed a surprise to see you in my modest home. Maybe could you enlighten me as the purpose of your unexpected - and quite imposed - visit?"
"Certainly, Lady Aurora. It is about your daughter, Lady Dawn. Is it possible to see her?"
"I do not know if my daughter will accept to appear. But, dear Petrel, forgive me for such a remark, but I did not know you had become rude: will you not introduce the young person accompanying you?"
Petrel slightly frowned.
"It is Lady Penelope, guest of honour of Lord Henryk," he replied a bit more wryly than he would have wanted.
Penelope put her hand on his arm and he smiled to her, forgetful of Lady Aurora whose lips tightened, as if she highly reproved this display of affection.
After insisting for a long time, Petrel finally was allowed to see Dawn. After ten new minutes of discussion, Petrel obtained from Lady Aurora that she left the room. Dawn was half-hiding in a dark corner.
"Do not remain in shadows, my lady," said Petrel gently, finding for Dawn the soft tone he usually used only for Penelope.
"I am sorry, Lord Petrel, but I dare not appear in my monstrosity in front of you, since both of you are good-looking and would indeed be shocked by my horrific shape," she replied. "Your young friend is so beautiful and seems too fragile to stand such a display."
Penelope had a dazzling smile and came toward Dawn, who recoiled a bit more in her corner.
"Come under the light, my lady," said Penelope with her soft voice. "Nobody is going to hurt you, nor criticise you."
She held out her hand toward Dawn who looked at it as if it was going to bite her. Finally, very shyly, she put her hand in Penelope's. Gently the girl drew her out of the shadows. Petrel smiled, proud of his little Penelope. In Dawn's eyes, to her credit, there was no trace of jealousy for Penelope's beauty.
"I see, Lord Henryk, that your friend and you succeeded in finding the cure for the curse touching us all."
"We are here for this reason, Lady Dawn," intervened Petrel. "Would you accept to come with us at the manor?"
"But, certainly, Lord Henryk would not appreciate my presence there!"
"My lady, I hope that, when seeing your courage, Lord Henryk will understand that his behaviour is ridiculous and maybe he will try to change it. I'm quite confident that you can be the key for his curse... and, who knows, maybe he is the key for yours."
Despite the fur covering Dawn's cheeks, Penelope would have sworn she had blushed.
"But what will Lord Henryk say? He did not invite me, did he?"
"Pete... I mean, Petrel would protect you, would Lord Henryk forget his manners," assured Penelope. "Wouldn't you, Peter?"
"Of course, Penny," replied Petrel immediately.
Dawn looked surprised by this familiarity, which was forbidden in Lord Henryk's circle. She began to suspect that Penelope wasn't maybe only the 'guest of honour' that her mother had told her she was.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" she insisted. "My ugliness is difficult to stand, since my mother herself cannot remain in my presence for very long."
"With all due respect," replied Penelope with indignation, "your mother should better look at herself in a mirror before criticising you!"
"You are kind, my lady, but I have seen by myself the monster I became and it is not a vision that someone can forget easily."
"Then begin by forgetting all this 'outside beauty' thing and just be yourself. Last thing, I'm no lady, so please just call me Penelope, or Penny if you prefer."
"You are going too fast, Penny," remarked Petrel when seeing Dawn's eyes opening wide in disbelief.
"Then explain to her, Peter, please. On the way back to the manor, maybe?"
For a brief instant, Petrel wondered what had happened to the shy and scared girl he had met at first, but he couldn't say that he disliked the change.
"Very well, Penny, I will explain to her. Do you think your mother will mind you coming with us?" he asked to Dawn.
She slightly shook her head.
"I do not think so. For all I know, she will be quite pleased not to see my accursed face anymore."
"I do not intend to let you look like this very long," said Penelope while opening the door.
As he was following Penelope, Petrel thought that he couldn't help but break rules while being with her. It seemed that she ignored every rule decreed by Lord Henryk. Actually, when Lady Aurora discovered that he had left without taking verbally his leave, taking her daughter along, she was so angry that she swore never to set foot at Lord Henryk's manor ever again.
Petrel wasn't feeling very well about this whole story though. He knew for sure that Lord Henryk would be upset when discovering Dawn's presence at the manor and he wondered what would be his reaction to poor Penelope. Petrel didn't fear anything for himself, he knew his master couldn't do without him. Though he had been getting more serious lately - after the curse - Lord Henryk didn't know very much about the land, since it had always been Petrel who had taken care of everything, the same way Petrel's father had taken care of the land for Lord Henryk's father.
Petrel was right: Penelope was trying to make Dawn enter the castle quite discreetly, for she wanted to present Lord Henryk to the girl after having prepared the young lord for such an encounter, but her plans couldn't be realised: while heading - at a quick pace - to Penelope's rooms, they met with Lord Henryk. Everybody froze; Penelope uttered a small cry of distress, Dawn tried to hide in the shadows and Petrel slightly moved in front of the two girls. Lord Henryk was looking at Dawn as if he couldn't believe his eyes and Petrel bitterly thought that he probably really couldn't. How could he have thought to see young Dawn here, in his own manor? So the outburst that the butler was expecting didn't take long to come...
Petrel didn't mind that much: he was quite used to his master's outbursts, though before the transformation, they were quieter and more dignified. But Dawn and Penelope panicked: Dawn had only seen Lord Henryk as the perfect gentleman, always polite, soft-spoken and with a refined language. The words she was hearing now were not all very proper. As for Penelope, it only reminded her of the previous times when Lord Henryk had spoken harshly to her and she turned deadly pale. Petrel didn't see it immediately, because he was more caring for Dawn, who was their guest, and when he saw the effect that Lord Henryk's outburst had on Penelope, it was already too late. Penelope, in a long cry, ran away, heading directly toward the main gate of the manor, knowing perfectly her way, and no call from Petrel could stop her. He ran after her, but it was as if she was suddenly deaf. She could only run, run away from this monster threatening her.
Petrel stopped, understanding it was of no use. He would take care of Penelope later, now he had to protect Dawn, as he had promised her. He knew perfectly why Lord Henryk had reacted so badly: the only reason why he had accepted to come out of his rooms was because he - implicitly - trusted his staff and because Penelope had never seen him in his previous human form. But Dawn had and, worse, she had been susceptible to his charms, the same way he had been interested in her, even if in his superficial way.
Lord Henryk was still yelling his anger, half-threatening Dawn who was recoiling pitifully in her corner. Petrel smoothly stood between Lord Henryk and Dawn; the young lord blinked when seeing his faithful butler in front of him instead of a frightened girl.
"Go away," he roared.
Petrel cocked his eyebrows at him.
"No," he replied flatly. "This behaviour is ridiculous. Stop that show off immediately and apologise to Lady Dawn."
"Am I hearing right? Are you giving me orders?"
"Yes, I am, for you are behaving like a whimsical child. I do not care for you being angry, surprised or feeling betrayed, that is no reason for you to be rude to Lady Dawn who came here out of the goodness of her heart."
"What is that new scheme of yours? How could she do anything but laugh at me? Penelope was beautiful, at least, she could have known the way out of the curse, what can your Lady Dawn do?"
Petrel's temper flared.
"Very well. Remain cursed till the end of your life and condemn others with you! Why hesitate? Why would you care for your people's life? You are their lord, if you are cursed, they should be cursed also, should they not? Maybe Elisa, Penny and I should try to be cursed too?"
"Petrel, that is not what I intended to say..."
"Then think, Master! We already had this conversation before and the result is still the same. If you do not trust my judgement, then why do you keep me as your butler? Have I deceived you before? You know you made progress thanks to Penny, do you not think you can make further progress with Lady Dawn?"
Lord Henryk had always listened to Petrel, no matter how infuriating his comments were, not that Petrel was that older than him, since he had only a few years more, but Petrel's family had always been wiser than the lord's family. This time made no exception: even if he was really angry and feeling betrayed by their behaviour, he calmed down a bit and gave a second thought to the situation. No matter how Petrel's actions looked like, he knew that Petrel always had his best interests at heart. He couldn't doubt Petrel, it would go against his whole education.
"Do you really think so?" he murmured very lowly, so that only Petrel would hear him.
"Trust me, Master," he replied softly. "It saddens me to see you in that state."
Lord Henryk painfully nodded, looked at Dawn, feeling ashamed: as if his frightening look wasn't enough, he had scared the girl with an outburst hardly compatible with a gentleman's behaviour.
To be contined...
1: Into the Woods, from Stephen Sondheim
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