I’ve been spending time with my novel; under the lens of “Story Genius” by Lisa Cron. This little exercise is trying to dig into Lyse and her view. Her Aunt Sophie is one of those characters who arrived in my story for this prompt and immediately seemed to have a mind of her own.
I love that about writing, you think about a character and then you discover who they actually are. So today, I’d like you to meet her.
As soon as I had excused myself from the table, I ran down the back stairs of the castle, past the kitchen and out into the courtyard. My aunt’s rooms were just beyond the gardens. My question to my aunt today could not wait until after my lessons. I ran past a group of guards and noticed that HE was there; commanding them to polish something. He stared at me as I ran past, but I ignored him. My aunt’s apothecary was much more important.
My aunt Sophie was bent over a mortar and pestle, grinding something. I could smell a touch of mint. Of course, that was easy. There was an underlying earthy scent; almost barnyard, but something from the forest as well. My aunt smiled a hello when she looked up and noticed me trying to figure out what she was using.
“Any ideas Lizzy?” She didn’t stop grinding and the smell became stronger.
“Is it pine with some sort of mushroom?” I asked her.
“Yes and something else too.”
I stepped closer to try to see into the container, but Sophie pulled it away.
“Follow your nose, ma cherie!”
I sniffed the air again. Now that I was closer I was more sure of the scent. I’d smelled it often enough on my rides. My mind had ignored the scent, thinking it was just from my aunt’s cloak hanging at the door.
“Do you have horse dung in there?” I exclaimed. “What on earth are you making?”
Sophie laughed and nodded. “Oui! I am making a special growth potion for one of Mrs Potts’ rose bushes. It has a nasty rot from a bug. I learned this recipe in Scotland when I was there.”
She leaned toward me and let me see the mortar bowl. I could clearly see the grains and consistency of the horse manure amongst the green mint and pine needles.
“I hope you wash that out before you use that on any other recipe!” I covered my nose and turned from the smelly concoction. Sophie poured more oil into the mortar and continued her grinding. I pulled a stool out from under the table across from her.
“You learned a lot of recipes while you were in Scotland, didn’t you?” I flipped through the pages of her notebook that sat between us.
“Oui! The women welcomed me to their kitchens after I was able to heal the fever that had settled into the farmer’s leg. They taught me many of their traditions. It was a wonderful time of my life. Your uncle and I became part of the community. We didn’t get that privilege here in France. Court is so far away from the everyday people.”
“I hear their rumblings of discontent when they come to see me for treatments. Many are starving and the King doesn’t see it! He thinks they’re being lazy! His people would be stronger if he just helped them!” Sophie ground the pestle harder.
My aunt was always so passionate when it came to the people. That was one of the reasons she refused to live in the palace; she wanted to be able to allow the common people to come to her without worrying about guards and courtiers.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You and Uncle Francis stayed in Scotland for a long time. Do you think you can help me convince my family to allow me to go there? I want to learn like you did.” I tried not to get tearful as I spoke but I could feel my frustration rising in my throat.
“Everyone is always staring at me and whispering behind my back. I don’t belong here! Father doesn’t let me ride like a man anymore; IF he lets me ride at all! Even now, I’m supposed to be at my lessons, but I’m sick of them! I can already speak English and I’d much rather be riding than play the pianoforte with the others. Every time I start talking about a book I am reading, the others roll their eyes and ignore me. All they ever talk about is each other and whatever new fashion the King is wearing!” I picked at a splinter on the table, trying not to let my voice crack.
“My cherie, I understand how frustrated you are. Your father is one of the King’s closest advisors and it is important for him that you are raised properly. I understand what that is like. Your uncle and I were very fortunate to go to Scotland, even though he didn’t live to return home with me.”
Sophie poured the smelly brew into a jar and closed the lid tightly. I watched her scrub the bowl and pestle in the soapy water she always kept close by. She tossed the dirty water out into the yard and dried her hands on a clean towel hanging by the door. She smiled at me as she filled the basin with water from a bucket near the door. I watched her wipe down the table.
I sniffed and she looked up at me again. “I know my father will listen to you. Please talk to him and tell him that I need to go to Scotland! I have to get away from here!”
I flipped through her notebook, angry at myself for crying even though I knew my aunt didn’t mind.
“I will try to meet with him this…” Sophie was interrupted as the King’s soldiers burst into the room.
“Make way for His Majesty!” He pushed me to the side as Louis stepped into the room, followed by a bearded man I didn’t know and several other soldiers. The room quickly filled up with men as the King went around the table and stood next to my aunt.
“Fritz, this is Sophie. I know she does not look much like a lady in these clothes but don’t let that fool you. As I told you, she is fluent in English and German as well as Gaelic from her time in Scotland. She will make an excellent wife and mother to your four boys. Her brother Henri… Ah! There he is!” The King gestured to the door where I saw my father trying to squeeze into the room.
“As I was saying, Henri can tell you all about how they were raised. She is a fine woman. Her stay in Scotland made her a little wild, but I assure you that can be tamed out of her.”
I stared at my father, who I noticed couldn’t look at my aunt.
“Excuse me, Your Highness! What is happening here?” My aunt tried to get the King’s attention while grabbing a bottle on the table that started to tip over when the table was bumped by the men crowding into the room. I tried to shrink further into the space between the shelves when my father looked my way. A little bit of surprise crossed his face and then concern.
The King ignored my aunt. “Robert, have the men clear out this room and make sure that Sophie packs up her things. Fritz needs to leave for Prague in the morning so we need to have them wed tonight.” I noticed Robert coming into the room, nodding at the King and catching my eye when he turned to speak to his closest man.
The King finally turned back to my aunt who was standing there in shock. “It has all been arranged, Sophie. You and Fritz will wed tonight. It’s just a small ceremony. We don’t need any fanfare for a second marriage. It is time that you stop this foolishness and become a proper lady again. I’ve tolerated your behavior long enough.” He turned back to Fritz.
Fritz grinned beneath his mustache. “She is a fine looking woman indeed. Not even that old yet. Perhaps she will be able to bear me my fifth son! That will bring us even closer to an agreement between France and Germany, don’t you think?” The man laughed as he and the King moved past my father and out the door.
“Lyse, isn’t there somewhere you’re supposed to be?” I looked between my father and my aunt, who seemed to be frozen.
“Henri…” She whispered but the words didn’t seem to come.
Soldiers moved into the room with boxes and started to pull things off the shelf. My aunt came alive again at the first sound of breaking glass.
“Wait! Be careful! What are you doing?” She tried to step into the soldier’s path and stop him from tossing her precious ingredients into the box.
“Sophie! You must go and prepare for your wedding!” My father pulled my aunt away from the soldier. My aunt slapped him.
“Henri! What have you done?” She screamed at him and I saw anger move up from my father’s neck to his face, red and frustrated.
“You know you can’t live like this! It was only a matter of time for us to find you a new husband! You can’t expect to live without a husband and children! Your duty is to the King and to France!” He yanked a bottle out of her hands and pushed her further from the soldier.
“Father! You can’t send her away!” I rushed to my aunt’s side, clutching her notebook. “Please father! I need her here!” I stepped between them. He pulled my arm and jerked me out of the way.
“Lyse! Get to your lessons. Right now! You’re already late. I hope the King didn’t see you here. Robert, make sure she gets to her lessons. I’ll make sure Sophie gets out of here so you and your men can clear this out. Lyse! Go! Now!”
One of the reasons I’ve grown so attached to Sophie is that she doesn’t fit neatly into the life that’s been given to her. She’s curious. She’s capable. She’s useful. She’s a little unconventional. And everyone around her seems determined to turn those things into problems.
I suspect a lot of women know something about that.
Perhaps that’s why I keep writing about women who want more than the life they’ve been handed.
Maybe that’s what a second wind is, too.
Until next Sunday,
What are some of the ways that you don’t “fit the mold”? How can you celebrate the things that make you wonderfully, unapologetically you?
Curiously,
Shawna