Page 64 of A Touch of Charm
Madame Duchon sucked her cheeks in. “So you lied? The girl is yours, and you truly live at Cloverdale House? Then it’s him with the illegitimate child?” She snuffed in Andre’s direction, dismissively.
Thea’s heart pounded like war drums in her chest, the heat of anger crawling up her neck. She’d endured accusations before, endured the whispers behind her back, the runaway princess—but this was different. Thea’s breath shuddered out, the weight of who she was pressing against her ribs. All her life, she had hidden, run, swallowed her pride for safety. The old Thea would have turned and fled. But no more.
Her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she strode to Madame Duchon. Composure reigned over her like armor as she straightened, her chin lifting so high it was as though the invisible crown she once wore had materialized again. Her hands uncurled, steady at her sides now, and her voice came out clear and unyielding, cutting through the tension like steel through air.
“I am Princess Josephine Theodora Andrea Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen.” The words fell into the room with the weight of thunder. She allowed a beat to linger, her eyes locked on the seamstress with a resolute flame. “And you have just insulted a member of the royal family on absolutely no basis.”
Her pulse thrummed as she met Madame Duchon’s stunned expression, but she felt lighter, stronger—like standing tall for once against the torrent of whispers and shadows had given her wings. She would no longer hide.
Thea stood in the middle of the disheveled shop, her heart pounding. Madame Duchon’s eyes bore into her with an intensity that made her feel cornered, but it was Madame Duchon who took a step back, only to find the counter blocking her retreat. “How do I know it’s not a lie?” she demanded, her voice trembling with anger and fear. “Imposters!”
Thea felt her pulse quicken, her palms turning clammy. This was the moment she’d dreaded ever since she left her homeland. She had hoped to avoid it, but circumstances had conspired against her. She stepped forward, her spine straightening with determination.
“Madame Duchon, I assure you, you will be paid for the items I ordered,” Thea began, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “And as for me, I have nothing to hide. I am exactly who I said.”
The silence that followed felt like a heavy weight pressing down on the room. Madame Duchon’s eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing as if searching for words that wouldn’t come. Still clutching her toy cat, Mary looked up at Thea with wide, innocent eyes, clearly confused but trusting.
Andre, who had been standing quietly beside Thea, stepped forward, his presence commanding attention. “Madame Duchon, allow me to explain the severity of Margaret’s injury,” he said, calm yet authoritative. “The sprain is located at the ankle joint, where the ligaments are most vulnerable. If left untreated or improperly immobilized, it could lead to complications such as chronic instability or further damage. It was essential to immobilize the ankle to ensure proper healing.”
Madame Duchon’s gaze flickered between Thea and Andre, her skepticism slowly giving way to reluctant acceptance. Andre’s explanation left no room for doubt; his knowledge was evident in every word he spoke.
“Why does the little one say you’re her governess?” Madame Duchon asked as if the question were a sword she’d wield.
“To protect me. My identity,” Thea said. “As did Dr. Fernando until Margaret was hurt.”
Thea watched Madame Duchon’s reaction closely, her emotions swirling with relief and apprehension.
The shop owner took a deep breath, her composure slowly returning. “A princess,” she murmured, still grappling with the revelation. “And a doctor. This day has been full of surprises.”
Thea nodded, her expression softening. “I understand this is difficult to believe, Madame Duchon. But I assure you, we only wish to help. Margaret needed immediate care, and Dr. Fernando did what was necessary. We will take full responsibility for the damages and assist in any way we can to restore order. Let me see that.” With these words, Thea took the paper on which Madame Duchon had written.
“Ah! The fabrics, ten yards, hm?” She scanned the room. “It’s no more than two.”
If they thought she wouldn’t know because she was a princess, she underestimated how hands-on her education had been in Transylvania. She held out her hand with the aplomb of a princess, and after a moment’s hesitation, Madame Duchon put the pencil in her palm. Thea crossed out the ten and replaced it with a two.
“The ribbons came off the spools but are intact, so I’d say two or three hours of clean-up work at a shilling an hour?” That was what the Whites paid her as a governess, and it seemed fair.
Thea glanced at Margaret, who dropped her head.
“No? Half a shilling?”
Margaret shook her head.
Andre cleared his throat and Thea understood. She knew people like Madame Duchon all too well, increasing their business at the cost of fair labor.
“From now on, Madame Duchon, Margaret will receive a fair wage and will not be coerced into climbing rotten ladders. Understood?”
Madame Duchon curtsied and nodded.
“I didn’t hear you.”
“Yes, Your Royal Highness.”
Andre stepped forward. “I need to examine Margaret again in a few days. If her posterior tibial tendon is ruptured, she will need more rest.” He turned to Madame Duchon. “It’s the tendon that attaches one of the smaller muscles of the calf to the underside of the foot. It helps support the arch and allows us to turn the foot inward.”
Thea suppressed a grin. “So Margaret might need about four weeks of seated work.”
She crossed out the ribbons.
