Melissa Rose wasn’t a princess, and she didn’t have a desire to be one. Since her birth fifteen and a half years ago, anything having to do with royalty had repulsed her to the point of faint nausea. She had thick brown hair that ran in curls halfway down her back. The other girls envied that hair, especially the ones in the academy she attended. Golden hair might have made her more becoming, but Melissa hated hair dye and wouldn’t do it even after her mother’s lame attempts at persuading her.

            Her older sister, Lucille Elizabeth, was eighteen and she dyed her hair once a week. She had muddy orange hair that could be pretty if she gave it a proper washing. Lucille, sometimes called Lucy, always spent hours in the washroom taking pastes and paints, boiling them and then bathing her thin mane in the pot like soup. She smelled often too strongly of lavender, because she preferred to dab the oil on her cheeks and forehead as well as her wrists and behind her too-large ears. She always wore more than the average amount of powder and ended up with an almost ghostly appearance. Her brown eyes were plain, and they showed not a sign of interest unless she was talking about herself.

            Melissa had vibrant green eyes and her skin was tanned to her mother’s distaste. A woman was never supposed to have skin darker than that of her fellow brother. But Melissa had skin so dark she could appear almost foreign, or from the nearby country titled Willque.

            Willque interested Melissa more than her own country did. It’s natives were equally beautiful men and woman often with a crop of silky black hair. They wore gowns made from cotton and dried plants. Lilies were their specialty. Often, the ruler of Melissa’s kingdom would trade, giving them priceless goods in exchange for their bouquets of fragrant flowers.

            Melissa was sitting and thinking of all this one afternoon, sitting in the parlor. Her mother had instructed her to write letters to family, but she couldn’t concentrate. She put down her feathered pen with light-headed despair.

            Lucy looked up from her note. “Missy, you mustn’t stop writing until mother deems it okay to do so.”

            Melissa frowned. “I’m afraid you’re not my mother.”

            Lucy continued to write, then held the paper at arm’s length with a sigh of satisfaction.

            “Probably the best I have ever written,” she exclaimed, handing the thick parchment over to Melissa.

           

            Dearest Aunt Eloise,

           

            Today, we write letters to our kin. You are first on my list because of all the wonderful things you have blessed me with. My dresses are graceful and elegant because of your excellent stitchery. My shoes are always shined because you instructed the maid, Mary, on how to do so properly. My hair is always lovely because you gave me the proper instructions for making dye.

            I thank thee, for giving me a beautiful appearance.

 

            With love,

 

            Lucille

 

            Melissa couldn’t help but laugh at Lucille’s praise for her beauty. She had none! And Aunt Eloise was a troll of a woman, even if she didn’t admit so.

            “What are you laughing for?” Lucy asked, looking perplexed.

            “Nothing,” Melissa said dismissively. “Nothing.”

            “What does your letter say?” Lucy asked incredulously.

            “Just, ‘dear Captain’, and that’s all.”

            Before Lucy could make a proper retort, the girl’s mother entered.

            Miss Angelina Christina Pollyanna Boodrem was proud of her large, full name. Two middle names said she was very important like. She had been born into a family of riches. Her father was a king’s brother, her mother the queen’s lady-in-waiting. They received up to fifteen precels in a week. There were precels, micels, trecels, and licels in their money system. Precels were indeed the top amount a person could get. That represented almost two thousand dollars. Which meant they were getting thirty thousand a week. Angelina felt herself to be dignified and very admirable. Her dark hair was pinned around her face in curls. Her eyes were deep-set and a golden honey color. Her cheeks were always the perfect shade of pink. She wore fine silk robes and starched and powdered wigs for special occasions. She was the mother of two fine girls, although Lucy wasn’t the most attractive, she would have to have an arranged marriage. She would write letters to their choice for her, and when the day of the wedding came, her fiancée couldn’t back out. Not if he was an honest man.

            Now, Melissa, on the other hand, she was going to catch a lot of attention. Angelina and her husband had decided to marry her to someone as rich as they could. That would bring both Melissa and Angelina wealth and knowledge. Power too. Angelina was a very power-hungry person and knew she needed it to thrive.

            “Mother!” said Lucy, standing up. “Missy hasn’t written her letters!”

            Angelina gave them both a smile. “Lucille, we mustn’t talk in such an atrocious manner. Smooth your dress and go back to your letter.”

            Lucy smirked. “I’m already finished.”

            “Let’s hope your penmanship has improved,” Angelina snapped. “Melissa, let me see your letter.”

            Melissa handed it over begrudgingly.

            Dear Aunt Eloise,

 

         I am writing to you because mother says we have to. First of all, you sing like a frog. Second of all, you talk in a high-pitched awful voice and it’s not wonder you haven’t a husband. Third of all, you are not becoming in the least, and Lucille is prettier than you, which tells you something because Lucille is ugly. So that’s it, I think, for now anyway.

 

         Your Niece who can’t stand you,

 

         Melissa Rose Boodrem

 

            Angelina gave an exasperated sigh. “Well, Melissa, I’m afraid you’ll have to retire to your room for a bit. No supper tonight.”

            Melissa rolled her eyes, gathered her skirts, and trudged up the old wooden steps to her room, which had a wash pitcher, a bed with her grandmother’s quilt, a dresser, and a chair. She drew her curtains and flopped down on the quilt, breathing in the scent of freshly ironed fabric.

            She must have fallen asleep, because a knock on the door startled her. She sat up, her mind covered by a thin haze.

            “Enter,” Melissa said, tugging at the end of her braid.

            The shy head of Mary peeked around the door. She stepped in and closed it gently behind her.

            “Miss, your mother sent me to retrieve your day’s clothing. She would like you to get your night dresses on.”

            Melissa’s stomach rumbled. “Call me Missy, Mary.”

            The redheaded girl of about seventeen blushed and ducked her head. “Thank you for your kindness. But you still need to get dressed for sleep.”

            Melissa sighed ruefully and disrobed. She quickly pulled a silk gown over her head and sat down. Mary collected her dirty things and put them in a basket.

            “Let me take your braids out,” she said, beckoning her forward. Melissa walked up and turned so Mary could remove the ribbons from her hair. Her scalp tingled as the tight braid was released, sending a wave of cascading tendrils from her back.

            “You have such pretty hair,” Mary said with regret. “I wish my hair was as pretty as yours is.”

            “Oh, if I could give it away I would,” Melissa said. “I hate having such hair that people take one look at me and say, ‘You’re beautiful, so I want to be your friend.’”

            “Well, I think you’re kind as well,” Mary promised. “A perfect sort of friend.”

            Melissa smiled at Mary. “As you are. Can we be friends?”

            Mary wrung her hands nervously. “Well…I don’t know. It’s just…”

            “You’re afraid I can’t be friends with our maid?” Melissa laughed. “I do most anything I want. We can be friends. If mother and father have a problem with that, they can come talk to me.”

            Mary smiled. “Well, this has been fun, but I have duties to attend to.”

            “Okay,” Melissa replied. “Goodnight.”

            Mary shut her door. Melissa jumped up and went over to the wash pitcher, splashing her face with cool water. She dried it with a cloth, and then rinsed her hands in the same manner.

            She climbed in between the crisp sheets with a yawn. Bed was so inviting, especially after a long hard day such as this. She fell into a slumber.

           

 

            “Ahhh!” Melissa exclaimed, shooting up. Sweat dribbled across her forehead. The room was bathed in darkness. In her dreams, she had fallen. Her mind was waiting for the pain when she hit the ground, but she never did. She just endlessly fell…helpless.

            She was sweaty and hot. She pushed off her sheet and stood, realizing she had to go to the restroom. After splashing herself with more water (and getting the front of her night gown wet) she pushed open the door and stepped into the hall.

            The outhouse was down a lane starting at their back door. Her feet would be filthy because she hadn’t bothered to put on her boots. She didn’t care.

            She stepped out the door and felt the cool air that night had brought. The moon lit her way to the little wooden building. After quickly relieving herself, she walked back in, wiping her feet on the Oriental rug. She turned to go back up to her bedroom when a mysterious piece of paper that hadn’t been their earlier glinted in the thin light.

            Melissa wandered over to it and fingered it. Looking to make sure no one was around, she gently picked it up, unfolded it, and sat down to read.

            Dear Niece,

            The time has come for me to do you a favor once again. The trees are losing their leaves and winters bite it approaching, ready to chomp down at any moment. The house has been prepared for the cold with the men chopping wood. Young Sampson is almost ten now, dear me, and he is the most helpful pup. He will make a fine husband one day.

            Miss Catherine is a woman now! She is to be wed in the spring. I do hope you are able to travel here for the wedding. Her groom is Mr. Jonathon Grove. He’s a swell lad. He has fine manners and a very protective and loving nature about him. He is swathed in riches and they will move into a large stone home called Rockwell Manor. I’m overjoyed.

            How is Lucille doing? She is eighteen years of age, correct? Has she yet found a proper suitor? I do hope so. Twenty is very old to marry! But nineteen sounds about right. Catherine is eighteen and three months. Is Lucille still dyeing her hair? I do hope so. It makes her more presentable as a woman. Remind her to always wear her corset and lace it tightly. Her gowns will be a bit weathered, I imagine, so make sure she has fresh silks. Have the maid sew some nice dresses for her, if you will. The fabric would look best if colored pink to bring out her hair. That would give her a most lovely appearance.

            And now onto the topic I have specifically written to address. Miss Melissa is almost a grown woman now, and she needs to be made one. I am sending five micels. I would like you to use those on silks and dye. She really should have a nice dye. Her brown hair isn’t as welcoming as blonde. So please make sure she dyes her hair. She should wear powders and occasionally a powdered wig with a lot of ribbons. Her dresses should be blue, her ribbons white and golden.

            That is all. I will be paying a visit soon to see if the girls are proper.

 

            With love,

 

            Aunt Eloise

 

            Melissa groaned softly. Aunt Eloise felt it her responsibility to make both Lucille and Melissa, “presentable women” since their mother was always so busy. Her body suddenly felt very tired with the anticipation of the coming days.

            Melissa didn’t have anything else to do except retire back to bed.