Happily Ever After

Part Two

Author’s note:

In Part One, we learned that the Belden family is getting ready to celebrate the birthday of their only daughter, Beatrix. The family is nervously preparing for a visit from Helena’s sister, Aletta. Aletta is a sorceress, who transformed the youngest child, Rubertus, into a frog during one of her periods of wrath. Beatrix went out to gather flowers to adorn the tables, when she perchance came upon two scoundrels, Richardus and Lodewijk. She was rescued by a supple woodsman, who she later learned was the heir to the throne of Sleepyside.

Chapter Three

Beatrix gasped for breath as she reached the path leading to her family’s humble cottage. She attempted to smooth her curls, a most futile effort, indeed. With an impatient sigh, she adjusted the bodice of her peasant’s dress, making sure she was adequately covered. She leaned over to shake a few stray leaves off of her long skirt.

“Bother!” she cried, noticing that the hem of her gown had been ripped by briars.

“Oh, curse you, bramble wood!” Beatrix exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “I do not have time to fix it now. Perchance I shall be able to sneak past Aunt Aletta and change before she sees me.”

She quietly opened the front door to the cottage, and nervously poked her head inside the keeping room. Not seeing anyone, she tiptoed through the door and headed for the staircase.

“Beatrix has arrived home, Mother!” Maarten bellowed from behind her.

Beatrix jumped in fright. “Shhh!” she hissed. “I need to go to my chambers and ready myself for the celebration.”

“Nay, sister,” Maarten disagreed in a superior tone. “You need to apprise our dear matriarch of your dilatory, albeit welcome, arrival. She is most concerned about you, fair Beatrix.”

The young maiden sighed wearily. “I did not mean to worry her. I had a most unfortunate delay in the forest, and my tardiness could not be helped. Is Aunt Aletta here?”

Maarten nodded. “Yes, dear sister, and she is quite vexed at your latency.”

Beatrix moaned and clutched her already-disheveled sandy curls. “Oh, I hope she does not turn me into a frog!”

“Why, Beatrix” Maarten gasped and gingerly grabbed his sister’s wrist. “You are hurt! What happened?”

“I told you I had an unfortunate delay. I was accosted by some ruffians in the forest. After I refused to give them money, they tied me up and threatened me.”

Maarten’s bright blue eyes, identical to his sister’s, searched Beatrix for further injury. “How did you escape? Did they willingly release you?”

Suddenly, Beatrix’s eyes grew wistful and a smile tugged at her lips. “I suppose they intended on following through with their vicious threats; however, I was rescued by a hooded man.”

“A hooded man?” Maarten repeated angrily. “Did he harm you, Beatrix?”

“Nay, brother. He forced the ruffians to release me. He shot one of the rogues with an arrow, right through his hand. The hooded man was a very good shot, indeed.”

Maarten studied his sister’s face. He sulked at the dreamy expression she wore. “And what business has this cloaked stranger in our province?” he asked huffily.

“Why, Maarten, you sound angry!” Beatrix gasped. “You have no reason to be suspicious of the hooded man. If it were not for him, I would not have returned to you at all. I owe him my life. I suspect you are more furious with him than with the scoundrels who bound me!”

“I am not angry with this man. I am just curious as to how he treated my cherished sister. Did he abuse you?” Maarten questioned, tenderly tussling his sister’s curls.

“I told you once that he did not,” Beatrix answered. “He was much too honorable to be anything less than a perfect gentleman.”

Maarten narrowed his eyes and glared suspiciously at Beatrix. “Methinks you are smitten with this rogue.”

Beatrix sniffed indignantly and tossed her curls in a defiant manner. “Surely you jest, Maarten Belden. I am grateful for his assistance, but I shall never be one of the love-struck maidens who roam mindlessly about the village, singing sonnets about their beloved.”

Maarten chuckled and kissed Beatrix’s forehead. “Little sister, I find your expostulations too capricious to be plausible.” Before she could protest, he laid his index finger upon her lips. “Now, instead of disputing my outlandish accusations, you should make haste to change your kirtle. You would not want to provoke our dear, sweet auntie to turn you into something unnatural, like for instance, a seamstress?”

Beatrix playfully swatted her brother on the arm, and then turned to run up the stairs. However, before she could escape to the safety of her chambers, she was discovered by her mother and her aunt.

“Beatrix!” Helena cried. “I have been concerned for you! Wherever have you been all this time?”

“I am sorry, Mother,” Beatrix replied contritely. She made her way down the stairs and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Greetings, Aunt Aletta.” Beatrix curtsied and dutifully kissed her aunt’s cheek, as well.

“Where have you been, child?” Aunt Aletta asked, her eyebrows drawn in speculation. “You look a mess.”

Beatrix tried not to giggle as Maarten made hopping motions behind their mother and aunt’s backs. She nervously cleared her throat.

“Frog in your throat?” Aletta questioned suspiciously.

Beatrix shot an evil look at her middle brother. “My sincere apologies, Aunt Aletta. I had hoped to retire to my chambers and dress more appropriately before your arrival.” She nervously waited to be transformed into a bat, snake, or some other vile creature.

“Off to your chambers, child,” Aletta commanded with a wave of her hand. “Your father and brother shall return soon, and then we can begin our merrymaking.”

“Thank you, Aunt Aletta,” Beatrix gushed. After a quick curtsey, she hurried up the stairs, only tripping once on her hem.

A half hour later, Beatrix returned. Her gown was fresh, her hair carefully pinned in place, and she was extremely thankful that she was not a frog. She made her way to the kitchen, where her mother and aunt were attending to the final dinner preparations.

Maarten had set the table and was placing a box on top of the bench where Rubertus was to sit, enabling him to be on a more even keel with the rest of the family. Mother insisted that the youngest Belden always be seated at the table, though he never actually partook of the meal.

Spying his sister, Maarten whispered, “Apologies, dear Beatrix. I did not intend to draw your attention away from Aunt Aletta.”

Beatrix playfully slapped his arm. “Thankfully, she overlooked my folly. I never would have forgiven you if I had been transformed into some ghastly beast.”

“Aye, and I would have been forced to find another box for you to sit upon during the morning and evening repast,” Maarten grinned, patting Rubertus’ seat.

“Brother, you may not find the situation so amusing when it is your turn. As I recall, in two fortnights it shall be your birthday,” she hissed. “And I shall of a surety see that Aunt Aletta is invited.”

Maarten paled. “Very good point indeed, Beatrix.”

Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Pieter and Bryan. After they had forgone the necessary greetings, the family sat down for the meal.

“Pieter, where is Rubertus?” Helena inquired, looking about for her youngest son.

Pieter looked up from the roast duck he was carving. “I wot not, dear. Is he not on his box?”

“No, he is not,” Helena announced. “Bryan, please fetch your little brother and bring him to the table.”

Bryan rolled his eyes, but obediently did as his mother requested.

Maarten nervously cleared his throat. “Mother, might I suggest that this one time only, we ostracize Rubertus from the evening repast?”

Helena gasped and placed her hand upon her heart. “Maarten! I would not hear of it! Frog or no frog, Rubertus is still a part of our family. You will not get one morsel until my youngest child is sitting at his place at our table.”

Beatrix leaned over to Maarten who was seated beside her on the bench. “Actually Maarten, Rubertus is much more pleasant to be around since his transformation. Mealtime is much more peaceful,” she whispered in her brother’s ear bringing an impish grin to his handsome face.

Bryan brought Rubertus in and gingerly sat him atop his box. After carefully washing his hands with lye soap and rinsing them in the basin, Bryan rejoined the family.

Chapter Four

After Pieter gave the blessing, the family filled their plates and partook of the bountiful meal. Helena had prepared many special fares in honor of her daughter.

“Very delicious, indeed,” Aletta proclaimed, filling her plate with a second helping. “I may have been gifted with magical talents, but you, dear sister, were abundantly blessed with culinary skills. Everything is quite perfect, with the exception of one thing. Where are the lovely bouquets that normally grace your table? I expected that you would have gathered a lovely arrangement from the nearby forest.”

“I thought Beatrix was picking the flowers this afternoon,” Bryan stated, looking at his sister in confusion. He jumped as he felt three separate kicks from under the table.

Aletta carefully studied her niece. “You were certainly gone long enough to gather enough flowers for the town merchant to sell. What happened to prohibit you from completing your task, Beatrix?”

The young girl nervously wiped the corners of her mouth. “Well, Auntie, I set out to acquire some lovely wildflowers for a bouquet, but I was a bit distracted.”

“Distracted?” Pieter repeated with a grimace. After sixteen years, he knew this “distraction” was not a good thing. “What did you see in the woods, Daughter?”

Beatrix anxiously glanced around the table. She had no choice but to tell what had happened that afternoon. “I was heading to the special spot in the forest where we always pick flowers, Father. Suddenly, I saw two ruffians. I suspected they were up to some sort of mischief, so I crept quietly to where they were talking to see if I could overhear their diabolical plan.”

“Dear Beatrix!” Helena moaned. “Did I not tell you to avoid strangers in the forest?”

“Verily, you told me to avoid any stranger wearing a cloak, Mother,” Beatrix explained, “but none of the rogues were wearing hoods. I specifically checked.”

Helena daintily touched her temple with the back of her hand. “Daughter, you will be the death of me! I had hoped you would avoid all strangers in the forest, hood or no hood. Would you have approached a ferocious ogre if he had left his cloak at home?”

“Of course not, Mother,” Beatrix said with a weary sigh. “ ‘Tis no excuse, but I simply did not think. I was overcome with curiosity.”

“Have you not heard the saying, ‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ Beatrix?” her father scolded.

“But I am fine,” Beatrix insisted. “After they tied me up, the─“

“Tied you up?” Bryan angrily repeated, rising to his feet. “I shall murder the rogues that harm my sister!”

“Sit down, Bryan,” Aletta commanded. “Please continue with your tale, Beatrix.”

“The ruffians demanded I pay a toll to be allowed passage on the path,” Beatrix continued obediently, silently praying her aunt was not thinking up an enchantment as punishment.

“And so you gave them the money, and then they released you,” Helena supplied hopefully.

Beatrix snorted in a most unladylike fashion. “Of course not! I refuse to give money to such ne’er-do-well characters. After they learned I would not pay their toll, they tied me to a tree and held a sword to my throat.”

The reactions varied around the trestle table. Pieter and his eldest sons rose to their feet, threatening to locate their pitchforks and scythes and make the vermin pay for abusing their beloved Beatrix. Helena moaned and clutched her head in her hands. Rubertus merely croaked and gave a tiny hop to show his willingness to seek vengeance.

Aletta, however, remained calm and beseeched her brother-in-law to hold his peace. “Pieter, you and your sons are most chivalrous, but I infer there is more to this tale. Beatrix, dear, continue with your story, please. What happened after these scoundrels tied you to the tree?”

“As you all know, previously I have been in many precarious positions, and usually I maintain my composure, but in this instance, I admit I was quite apprehensive,” Beatrix replied. “The moldwarp who appeared to be the leader began threatening my virtue.”

Maarten jumped up once more from the table, filled with rage. “Beheading is too good for this nefarious fellow!” he fumed, shaking his fist. “I shall castrate him with a dull file and toss his secrets to the swine!”

“A very vivid picture indeed, Maarten, but please allow your sister to continue,” Aletta interjected, an amused smile twitching at her lips. “I am most curious as to how our Beatrix was released.”

After a quick glance at his aunt’s stony face, as well as a peek at his younger brother, Maarten wisely decided to sit down and hold his tongue.

When all was silent, Beatrix continued. “Suddenly, a rider appeared on the path. He rode so expertly that, at first glance, I thought it was a centaur from the ancient days. He wore a green cloak, and his form was tall and supple. He withdrew a crossbow and commanded the ruffians release me.

“They refused and told the stranger to be on his way. Before the overly-amorous scoundrel could lay another vile finger upon me, the hooded man shot his hand. The rogues ran away into the woods.”

Pieter carefully studied his daughter. “And then what did this hooded knave do?”

“Father!” Beatrix angrily exclaimed. “James is not a knave! He was quite honorable and kind.” Her voice softened, and her eyes sparkled as they never had heretofore. “Methinks he is the most wonderful man in the world.”

Pieter’s heart sank at his daughter’s reply. The past year, many suitors had requested the honor of escorting Beatrix to some affair, but she had never shown interest in any of them. Pieter had hoped his daughter would prolong her status as an unmarried maiden and choose to remain under his roof. Now, at the mention of this stranger, those hopes were dashed.

Now suspicious of his daughter’s rescuer, as well as a bit jealous, Pieter asked, “If this man is so honorable, why does he wear a hood upon his head? Verily, if a man must hide his appearance, he cannot be trusted.”

“Very good point!” Bryan agreed. “I shall have words with this clotpole if he sets foot upon our land ever again.”

Beatrix sighed. “You can trust him, Father. His name is James, and though he lives in the distant Albany province, his ancestors dwell in this land. Perchance you have heard of his great-uncle, Lord James Wynthrop Frayne the First, after whom James is named.”

Pieter thoughtfully stroked his chin. “Of course I have heard of Lord James the First. He is the ruler of our fair kingdom. A noble gentleman, indeed. He owns the vast estate to our east. I have heard rumors of dissension among his ranks.”

“So this hooded fellow is the nobleman’s nephew?” Bryan asked, one dark brow quirked in skepticism. “What is he doing in our land?”

“He was sent here by his stepfather to investigate the rumors of which you spoke, Father,” Beatrix explained. “James wishes for me─ for us─ to meet his uncle.”

Pieter and Helena exchanged a worried look. Could this young nobleman be interested in our Beatrix?

Bryan assumed the position of protective sibling. “Little sister, how can you be sure this is true? He could be a thief or a murderer who is wearing a hood to shield his face from the reeve. I forbid you to have any further contact with him!”

“You?! Forbid me?!” Beatrix sputtered angrily. “I shall do─ “

Maarten gently clasped his sister’s small hand. “Bryan, as eldest kinsman, you most certainly have leverage not available to me. However, I must beseech you to reconsider your threats. ‘Tis most dubious that this cloaked wight should reappear, but if he does, I think we would be sagacious to trust our sister’s judgment.”

“And have her captured by some rogue?” Bryan shouted. “Maarten, have you lost your senses? You have spent too much time in your books, and they have driven you mad!”

“Brother,” Maarten said soothingly, “your devotion to our sister has blinded your normally good judgment.”

Pieter stood, halting any further discussion from his two oldest sons. “Bryan, Maarten, both of you have noble intentions regarding Beatrix. However, as the ceorl of this freehold, I have the final voice. If this young man wishes to garner an audience with my daughter, he must first meet my approval. No man is a worthy suitor for my only daughter unless he has the intestinal fortitude to be forthright and gain my permission.

“Now, Beatrix,” Pieter continued, looking tenderly at his beloved daughter, “you have caused your mother and me much apprehension by foolishly jumping into dangerous situations. I know you are curious, but henceforth you must be more cautious, Daughter.”

Beatrix hung her head. “I am sorry, Father. I just wanted to see what those men were doing. They were so, so…mysterious.”

“Next time, report the suspicious behavior to your brothers and perhaps they can accompany you to the reeve,” Pieter suggested. “Now, if there is nothing else, let us─ “

“Wait!” Aletta cried, standing to her feet. “Before we dismiss to the festivities outdoors, I must speak my mind.”

Beatrix and Maarten looked at one another, and Maarten squeezed his sister’s hand.

“Beatrix, today is your sixteenth birthday. Judging from the near-tragedy you endured, we are quite blessed to have you with us. Dear niece, you have a penchant for finding trouble. Several times your brothers have come to your rescue.

“For example, there was the time you spotted an unusual sea creature in the Hudsonairre Moat. You insisted upon investigating it by yourself and were captured by a wench and her henchmen who intended to drown you in that very moat. If it had not been for your brothers, we would not be celebrating today.

“And there was the time you were suspicious of Count Pierre Lontard, who was smuggling crossbows to a distant land. Again, if your brothers had not intervened, we would be placing flowers upon your grave.”

Beatrix hung her head guiltily, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I never intend to be captured. I cannot help being so─ “

“Curious,” Aletta interrupted. “This trait runs rampant in the Johanneson family. However, if you wish to remain safe, you must fight your curiosity before it brings your end. And to help you in this cause, I present you with your sixteenth birthday gift.”

Aletta magically pulled a wand from out of her sleeve and waved it around, creating clouds of sparkly dust. She pointed it at Beatrix and chanted the following words:

“’Tis the anniversary of your birth

Which one must celebrate with great mirth.

To you my niece, a special gift I give,

Hoping a long life you shall live.

Long ago you were bestowed the Johanneson trait,

My niece, you must someday learn to wait.

In curiosity, you rush ahead

But one who rushes ends up dead.

Forsake curiosity, and you shall do well

Partake of curiosity; succumb to this spell.

A death-like sleep will be your fate

If you fall prey to the Johanneson trait.

Take heed to the words which I have spoken,

There is only one way the spell can be broken.

Succumb to the curious gene, perchance

And you only can be woken by love’s fond glance.”

After holding her tongue throughout most of the conversation, Helena stood, tears streaming down her face. “Dear sister, I beg of you to release Beatrix from this enchantment. This is too much to expect of her. She shall surely fail!”

“I cast this enchantment for her betterment, not her detriment,” Aletta simply stated.

Maarten fiercely embraced his beloved sister. “Remove this spell hence, you old wagtail! I shall not allow you to cast your evil enchantments upon her!”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Aletta’s mouth. “I shall hold you guiltless of that statement because of your touching devotion to your sister. However, I would forego any further comments, Maarten, unless you wish to me transform you into a fly. Young Rubertus looks hungry.”

“Please, Aunt Aletta,” Bryan begged. “Can you not see the folly in this? I am all in favor of staving Beatrix’s curiosity, but she has no hope of conquering her inquisitiveness. This spell will take her away from us forever. I plead with you to reconsider!”

“I cannot remove the spell once it has been cast,” Aletta informed them with a wave of her hand. “It is up to Beatrix to determine her fate.”

“Aletta has spoken,” Pieter replied, his usually strong voice quivering with emotion. “Beatrix’s life was endangered, spell or no spell. If her curiosity is not dissuaded, she will eventually meet her demise regardless.”

“Father, if I might, may I have a word with Aunt Aletta in private?” Beatrix asked.

Pieter studied his beloved daughter with tender eyes. Of all his possessions, none could compare to the treasure before him. “Of course,” he agreed.

Beatrix and Aletta went outside and sat at the gaily decorated table. Before dinner, Maarten had taken great care to light the lanterns that were hanging. The flickering light created quite a festive atmosphere; however, neither Beatrix nor Aletta was in the mood to celebrate.

“I suppose you are wondering why I cast such a wicked enchantment upon my only niece,” Aletta began.

Beatrix nodded. “I know you have never cared for me, Aunt Aletta. I have always strived to please you, but somehow I manage to vex you in the end.”

“Dear Beatrix, you misunderstand my intentions.” Aletta laughed, and studied her niece with great affection. “I have no children, and you and your brothers are dear to me. Incidentally, as my only niece, you are quite precious to me.”

“You love me so much that you wish for me to fall into a death-like slumber?” Beatrix questioned skeptically.

“Nay, my child, I love you so much that I wish to keep you from blundering into dangerous situations,” Aletta explained. “Has your mother ever spoken of our brother, Maarten the First?”

Beatrix shrugged. “Mother has mentioned him occasionally.”

“Did you know that our brother had that insatiable Johanneson curiosity gene, as well?” Aletta inquired.

Beatrix grinned, the dimples on either side of her mouth deepening in a charming manner. “I should very much like to meet this uncle. We would have much to discuss.”

Aletta’s face grew tender, and tears filled her eyes. “I am sure you and Maarten the First would have been great comrades; however, you cannot meet him in this life. His curiosity overtook him and led him into a situation far too dangerous. He died several years before you were born. I do not want you, my beloved niece, to meet the same fate.”

Beatrix nodded in understanding and then embraced her aunt. “I shall try to contain my curiosity, Auntie. I do not wish to bring you further sadness.”

“Losing you would make me very sad indeed. I did what I had to do to protect you.”

“And did you transform Rubertus into a frog to protect him?” Beatrix questioned with a giggle.

Aletta chuckled. “No, I turned Rubertus into a frog because he vexes me.” She reached over and patted her niece’s hand. “Now, enough about spells. We have a birthday to celebrate.”

Beatrix called for the rest of her family members, and soon she was joined by her parents and brothers. The family began their merrymaking in spite of the enchantment cast upon Beatrix. They could not know that far away, a stoop-shouldered figure watched them through his crystal ball. An evil chuckle filled his dank chambers.

“Excellent,” he cried, forming the wicked plan in his mind. “This information shall profit me immensely.”

Credits:

Thank you once again to the best editors in the world, Cathy W, Kathy W, and Kaye! Thank you all so much for your advice and suggestions! {{HUGS}}

I used several medieval terms that I found in a Dark Ages dictionary on the internet. Some of the derogatory terms I used were found on that site, such as a ‘moldwarp’, which was a dumb oaf. ‘Clotpole’ was a nasty name for a man. And Maarten was quite blessed that Aletta didn’t turn him into a fly after he called her a ‘wagtail.’ That was a term reserved for the vilest of women in that day.

Did you catch the references to the books in there? I had fun giving Thea Loon and Pierre Lontard little cameos. And some of The Secret of the Mansion was quoted. J

I know the name Hudsonairre Moat was pathetic, but it was the best my addled brain could come up with!

Technically, these characters belong to Random House, but for the record, I’ve changed their names, so I guess that makes it all right. Mwah-ha-ha!!!

Please forgive my horrid spell/poem. I am certainly not a poet. I did the very best I could, though! And you know I had to throw in those fond glances. *wink*

And this is my explanation why we’ve never met Maarten Johannson. I’ve always been quite curious about that fellow…

And about Aletta, I’ve always liked her. I can’t help it. Everyone has an Aletta in their family. Of course, this Aletta is a lot nicer than my family’s Aletta… *EG* I wanted to show that in spite of her incessant nagging of Beatrix, she is quite fond of her curious niece. I’ve always pictured the two being similar in mannerisms.