Prince Elliott set his teacup down and gazed up at the ceiling as he rested his head in his hand.
“I’ve given it some thought,” he said, “and have come up with a way to beat Rachel. What would you say to teaming up with the young ladies who were against her? I’ve heard that women are supposedly much better at belittling people and crushing them emotionally.”
The hangers-on who were joining him for tea all fell silent. Then, after a brief pause, they flipped out.
“His Highness said something reasonable?!”
“He’s able to think so deeply?!”
“What was that?! Is that how you people see me?!” Elliott yelled, raging at his cronies for looking down on him.
If George were here, I wouldn’t have had to do that myself, he thought, nearly crying.
As Wolanski watched Elliott shouting at his followers, he thought, Wait? This only just occurred to him? But that was neither here nor there.
Elliott immediately got to work assembling a list of the young ladies who’d insisted he choose them over Rachel, along with young ladies from families who were rivals of the House of Ferguson. There were nearly thirty of them in total.
“Okay! With this many young ladies coming after her, Rachel will be at her wit’s end. Heh heh... All right! Now go around and talk to them at once!” Elliott instructed.
“Yes, sir!”
Seeing the men all so eager to do the prince’s bidding, Margaret hesitantly said, “Um... Maybe you shouldn’t...”
“Ha ha ha! You’re so kind, Margaret! But Rachel’s had her way for too long. We need to hit her good and hard now, or things will only get worse!”
“I do agree about that...”
Elliott was so motivated that Margaret couldn’t bring herself to say any more. It’s not like she could have told him, “I already tried that and ruined half of them. Tee hee.”
Elliott’s followers did as they were told and promptly returned.
“Your Highness,” began one of the hangers-on, “we went around asking the young ladies, but for some reason, all the ones who’d been trying to steal you from Miss Rachel have shut themselves away in their houses.”
“What? Why?” Elliott asked. “They used to always look for any excuse to sell me on why I should choose them instead.”
The cause was standing right next to him.
“And as for the ones in opposing factions,” continued the hanger-on, “it seems they’re all here in the palace today for a tea party of some sort.”
“Huh?” Elliott tilted his head to the side. The palace was a big place, but if there was an event like that going on, he’d have surely heard about it.
Where could they hold a party in the palace that I wouldn’t hear—
Before Elliott even finished his thought, he remembered that all the recent craziness had been centered around one place in particular.
Elliott raced to the dungeon and found the prison guard sitting at a table set up outside the door. When Elliott saw that he was wearing a necktie with his usual squalid work clothes, he immediately knew what was going on.
“Your Highness,” the prison guard greeted him.
“What is it today?!” Elliott snapped.
The guard, who looked like he was desperately trying to flee from reality, showed Elliott a pamphlet. “Visitation today is by invite only,” he informed the prince. “Please present your advance tickets.”
“Who sells advance tickets for visiting a prisoner?!” Elliott asked.
“‘Today is a day to have fun and express sympathy.’ Erm, let’s see. ‘On this day, first-rate entertainers in the capital will be putting on a show for the benefit of poor Rachel Ferguson, an innocent imprisoned for a crime she did not commit.’ At least I think that’s how it goes? Sorry, I can’t read.”
“Why are you letting her boss you into playing receptionist like this?!”
“Uh, yeah. It just feels pointless to fight back against her lately...”
“The prisoner has trained the guard?!” Elliott cried in disbelief. He shoved the guard aside and reached for the door.
“Ah! Your Highness, you can’t go in there without a ticket!”
“Ugh, step aside! Remember your job!”
Elliott led the way as everyone headed down to the dungeon. Curtains were hung at the bottom of the stairs to create a green room, and in front of them was a small stage where a magician was performing.
“And if I knock on the box... Ta-da! Haley was in the drawer over there, but now he’s here!”
Rachel’s pet monkey was acting as his assistant for some reason.
The magician removed his silk hat and theatrically bowed during the applause. Then he launched into an explanation of his next trick. He seemed to be experienced, not just one of the ducal house’s servants in a new guise.
Wolanski clapped excitedly. “Oh, that’s James Matisse, the popular performer from the Central Circus! Incredible. I’ve never seen him perform at a private residence before.”
“This isn’t a private residence, though?!” Elliott screeched.
The guest seats were packed tight with young noblewomen. They sat in groups at tables, like they were at a tea party, but they were all facing forward, making it clear what the main attraction was. The many attendees included more than just the high-ranking ones that Elliott and his followers had been searching for. There were easily more than forty people in the audience.
Elliott was upset that they were still watching the stage with rapt attention even after he and his entourage had arrived.
“H-Hey... They seem strangely into this...” he muttered.
“Your Highness, the young ladies here are of such high status that they’ve never been able to go for a walk through town,” a hanger-on explained. “They may have been to the opera, but their parents would never let them watch street performers and other entertainment for the masses.”
“That’s what has them so overexcited?!”
Elliott didn’t have time to worry about that. He cut across the stage, ignoring the intense booing he received.
“Hey, Rachel, I don’t recall giving you permission to put on a show here!” he hollered.
Rachel gave him a look of shock, as if she hadn’t been expecting to hear that.
“My, Your Highness, I’m not hosting a show.”
“What do you call this, then?!”
“Well, you see...” Rachel began, chuckling as if she’d done nothing wrong, “some friends came to visit while I was receiving a sympathy call.”
“How can you tell such easily disprovable lies?! I heard you made pamphlets, and even sold advance tickets!”
“Oh dear. Did I get things backward? Well, it’s of little concern.”
“What about this event is little?!”
While Elliott interrogated Rachel, the magician said to Wolanski, “Excuse me, sirs, could you keep your voices down during the performance?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Wolanski whispered.
“Don’t you tell us to be quiet!” Elliott boomed. “This show is over! Over! Pack your bags and get out! And you, don’t apologize to him!”
As Elliott chased off the magician, the young ladies in the audience harshly criticized him.