The Chunky Princess

By Jeane Maxwell

“I just want to understand what's going on.”

One would think young Arabella has it all: she's pampered in a palace, taught by tutors, and regarded as royalty. Being the only heir to the throne, she has a future that is certain. Or does she? How can she ever find her own way in life if she isn't given the freedom to spread her wings? And her search for love may bring her to her knees. Will she ever know true love in her life?

Full of adventure and intrigue, The Chunky Princess will keep you turning pages to see if Arabella reaches her goals.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JN James
• Release date: Nov 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386564980

Jeane Maxwell

Jeane Maxwell grew up loving to read romance stories. Soon she was writing her own. This is her third full-sized novel. Her first two novels are part of The Princess Trilogy: The Spunky Princess and The Chunky Princess. She spent her growing up years in Tennessee and Wisconsin and now makes her home overseas where she and her husband serve as missionaries. Graduate of a midwestern Bible college, Jeane desires to share what God teaches her and pass it along to others in a very readable way.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The sun stabbed brilliantly over the horizon, setting into motion another boring day in the life of the rich princess. Arabella yawned and snuggled more tightly beneath her down comforter. It wasn't the cool temperatures that kept her from meeting the world. Her thick brows slumped in a scowl. She pulled the covers over her head.

The doorknob rattled, and she knew what was coming. She gripped the edge of the blanket more tightly.

Good morning, Miss Bella. Time for breakfast. Unseen hands wrangled the linens from her grasp, exposing her to face the same maid she saw every day for the past decade and a half. They stared at each other a moment before the older woman shook her head with a grimace. It's going to take a bit to tame those curls today. Why do you insist on hiding under the covers every morning? The comforter drifted out of reach, the cool air reaching cold fingers through her nightgown. Arabella sighed and accepted her fate.

Another day.

She allowed another maid to help her with changing into her day dress, a white and pink pin-striped affair with a wide, white collar. She stared unsmiling at her reflection in the free-standing mirror beside her bed. Her almost-black hair resembled a disheveled haystack. She pushed it out of the way of the hands buttoning the back of her dress. The day's monotonous schedule flitted through her mind. Nothing in it promised to satisfy her sense of adventure. What could be exciting about lessons, deportment drills, and staying indoors all day? She made a face as the comb struggled to make a straight path through her tangled locks. If only she would be allowed to explore around the grounds! That would add some excitement.

With her hair finally brushed and adorned with a white, cotton headband, she arranged herself at the small table by the bedroom window overlooking the woods and the mountains farther off. She absentmindedly pushed the tablecloth away to make room for the cloth napkin she laid across her lap. Though a plate of aromatic food was set before her, she seemed not to notice. She found herself wondering for the millionth time in her life what it would be like to go beyond those far-off mountains. The feeling of being cooped up pressed in on her more fiercely than usual. Her hands twisted the napkin with force. With a sigh, she released her grip, unclenched her teeth, and let her dream go. Again. It was useless. Her father would never agree to her traveling outside of the kingdom.

Her dour mood didn't affect her appetite. It never did. She consumed the entire plate of eggs benedict, toast, fruit cup, danish, orange juice, and milk. Wiping her mouth, she threw her cloth onto the table, went to brush her teeth, and then opened the door to the hallway. Her audible sigh preceded her into the wide hall. Embraced by walls covered in dark paneling, Arabella's mood didn't brighten. She followed the hall past door after door of unused guest rooms, her shoes making little noise on the thick, brown carpet. She took a left turn halfway down the hall and walked a similar distance to the back staircase. Twenty-one steps later, she emerged on the first floor and entered the first door on her left.

The conservatory where she studied five days a week depressed her further. Though one wall was covered with windows, heavy draperies kept out the majority of sunlight on a good day. Today had suddenly grown overcast to match her spirit. Arabella slumped into her regular chair at the round table at one end of the room. Her first-hour tutor was already present, scratching assignments onto the blackboard. Reading over the wiry teacher's shoulder, Arabella made out the first order of the day: research for a twenty-page paper covering the rise and fall of Emperor Carminion. Her head dropped to her hands, and she dreamed of climbing back into bed under her covers to escape.

––––––––

Arabella ate lunch alone as usual in the small dining area off the kitchen on the first floor. She especially enjoyed the hot potato soup, since the coolness of the dreary day seemed to have taken up residence in her bones. The flavors of the creamy soup crowded out thoughts of ancient empires, Kregarian grammar, and the finer art of flower arranging. She smacked her lips as she emptied her bowl, following it with three rolls and a lemon tart. Groaning with pleasure, she rubbed her stomach in appreciation, then cleaned herself up enough to meet Miss Bludgel. 

Arabella entered after her brief knock and plopped herself into her usual armchair, knocking the doily atop it askance. Miss Bludgel's visiting room, located on the second floor next to Arabella's room, seemed as stuffy as ever to the princess. The lavender overstuffed furniture consumed most of the room, and the walls clogged with paintings and mirrors served only to suffocate her. Miss Bludgel's face turned down in a frown until Arabella righted the offending piece of tatting.

How were your lessons this morning?

Arabella groaned and twisted a piece of her hair, staring into the lit fireplace. Oh, you know. Same old stuff.

A disapproving grunt emanated from the other side of the room. Let's try that question and answer again, shall we? How were your lessons this morning, Arabella?

Sitting up with perfect posture, Arabella acquiesced. They were fine, thank you. And how was your morning, Miss Bludgel? Even the conversations in this place were stiff and dull and regimented.

It went quite well, actually. Thank you for asking.

A hint of something in her voice caused the younger woman to cast a glance at the older one. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to Arabella. Miss Bludgel's brown hair streaked with gray was twisted up as usual, her clothing looked to be the same as what she had worn the previous day. The only thing different was the glitter in her eyes. When nothing more was said, Arabella opened her mouth.

Ah, ah, ah. Never probe! That is very rude. If one desires to divulge private information, we must wait until they offer it themselves.

Arabella's mouth snapped shut and her eyebrows curved downward, showing her distaste at being baited.

"And don't make that face. You look like a spoiled child who didn't get her lollipop."

Arabella tried to ease up on her facial expression, but it was difficult to rid herself of her annoyance. Instead, she stared at the fire, trying to count how many flames made it higher than the grill the logs sat in.

Stand up, please.

Arabella knew what was coming, and her face returned to a frown before she remembered to hide it. Rising to her feet in what she hoped was a graceful movement, she stood before her governess and waited for the command to twirl.

Mmm-hmm. I thought as much. You did not take much time preparing for the day. That is simply unacceptable as the only heir to the crown. You must always look your best.

Arabella bit back her retort, noting the wrinkled blouse the other woman wore. The princess had no interest in impressing anyone. In fact, she rarely encountered a single soul beyond a handful of maids and palace staff. What did she care about appearances?

I want you to return to your room and straighten up your clothing. And do something about that hair. You're nineteen years old, not nine.

The princess nodded silently, and with as much dignity as she could muster, let herself out. As soon as she was in the hall, her face twisted into a startling grimace, wishing she could have delivered it seconds earlier to show her true emotions to her governess. Feeling slightly better, she opened her bedroom door and rang for her maid. At least she had a few moments' peace.

With the day's required classes and meetings behind her, Arabella decided to enjoy the free time she had before she was called to supper. First, she gazed out the first floor parlor window, noting every change since the day before. More trees had released their dead leaves. The flowers planted in urns near the front entrance were bending closer and closer to their graves. The sun had not made another appearance since early that morning, filling the princess's heart with a measure of heaviness. What was it about night and darkness that filled her with such despair? She felt the cold pane of glass, looking at her fingers splayed before her on the glass, the same fingers that wrote paper after paper of dull facts or held a book in the library. She imagined her hands doing something totally out of the ordinary, like . . . touching a bird or digging in the dirt like the gardener or holding a small child's hand.

She sighed again, her forehead leaning on the glass. She might as well be in prison. Though she was the only child of her father, the king of Stockton, she had little say in anything that related to her own life. Or anything else for that matter. Sometimes she felt like screaming! How could she endure another day like this one? What was her future? She had assumed that as she reached adulthood, her father would invite her into his meetings, allow her some avenue to stretch her political wings. But so far, nothing had changed. She didn't see her father now any more than she ever had, about once every other week. And then it was only at a big supper with his chief advisors present.

Moving away from her window to the outside world, Arabella shuffled down the long corridor to the library. The one thing she could do to transport herself to new places was to read. Selecting the thick volume she had begun a day earlier, she made herself comfortable in a tall stuffed chair near the fireplace and lost herself in a more exciting world.

––––––––

One month later, Arabella happily straightened her clothes and allowed her hair to be brushed an extra fifty times. She was finally invited to eat with her father and his men. Anything out of the ordinary seemed like an adventure to her, and she could feel her blood moving in anticipation of the event.

Trying to move like Miss Bludgel had taught her, the princess breezed into the dining room and allowed a servant to seat her on her father's right. He had not yet arrived, so Arabella got her skirts situated as she liked and, after looking furtively around, dipped a finger into the appetizer dish in the middle of the table. Licking it, she debated whether it was worthy of eating or not. The clatter of hard shoes on marble floors made her whisk her hand away guiltily. She stood in honor of her father's position, then allowed herself to be seated again once all the men had arrived. She pasted a huge smile on her face for her father's benefit, but he never looked at her. Instead he continued his discussion with an older man Arabella had seen many times, his white sideburns as unruly as her own hair was in the morning. Looking down both sides of the table, Arabella saw only people she recognized. Four of her father's men always sported hard, unsmiling faces. Tonight was no different. Four were younger and rather nice looking, but they talked only amongst themselves and never about anything of interest to her. Two men held more interest to Arabella. One, her father's chief advisor, always seemed to notice everything around him. Though the left side of his face had been horribly scarred, he was intelligent and well-read. He looked at her now. She saw his eyes survey her from her head to waist where the table hid the rest of her. Something in his face showed distaste, and Arabella desperately wanted to change that.

How was your day, sir?

His cool, gray eyes returned to hers. Fine, thank you. And yours?

She pretended to think. Not so well. School is dreadfully boring! I study Kregarian, but I will never see Kregaria. I study—

The advisor broke in. Study is extremely important for one's brain. It is even more invaluable for a princess. Never disdain time spent in study, for you must be prepared for anything and everything. His words were curt and clipped.

Arabella's lips sagged at his cold reprimand. Why was it she could not go an entire day without being chastised?

The man leaned over the table closer to her. And princesses definitely do not pout. It's time you grew up and took your responsibility seriously.

The first course was served, cutting off any further advice from him. Arabella was glad. She refused to look at the man the rest of the evening. Instead she turned to the man beside her, the other one who interested her for a different reason. She had met him years earlier at a similar function and had never forgotten his kindness to her.

What do you think of these clams, Sir Portier? It is amazing we have them so close to winter, is it not? She watched his tanned face closely for his opinion as he tasted a bite of clam stew and chewed it thoughtfully.

Hmm. I do believe you are right. Clams in winter are quite the delicacy. It appears that you enjoyed yours. He indicated her empty bowl, and she had the decency to blush. Perhaps her hunger had encouraged her to eat a little too rapidly. She thanked her good luck that Miss Bludgel had not seen her behavior.

I did enjoy it, thank you. She smiled at him coyly, turning the subject to what she really wished to discuss. Now, tell me again where you spent last winter? What did you eat there? What sights did you see?

The middle-aged man gave a small laugh and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Why are you so interested in my trip to Eurovia? He threw an amused glance at the man across the table from them. Tell her, Lucas. Traveling to foreign lands is quite tiresome.

The other man said nothing, only nodded as if to agree, his jaw clenched.

Arabella's frown reappeared unknowingly. What was wrong with him? Who wouldn't love to travel? Why was he so disapproving of her? She pushed her hair behind her shoulder and determined to ignore his sour looks. She wanted to enjoy this break in the monotony of her life to the fullest extent.

Please, sir, tell me everything! Perhaps one day I will visit there, and I wish to know the important sights.

The evening was a glittering memory for the young princess. She dreamed about far-off lands for weeks after that meal. However, it also introduced a different line of training from her governess. One that would affect her for many years to come.

––––––––

Monday morning's deportment lesson surprised Arabella. For one thing, she and her governess met in the conservatory rather than Miss Bludgel's parlor. In addition, instead of discussing table manners, clothing choices, or graceful movements, the topic of the day centered on men.

Arabella watched her tutor pace slowly before her, wondering where this discussion was going. Her teacher's normally serious face had been replaced with one more severe.

Arabella, we have not discussed the topic of men sufficiently up till now. More pacing and frowning. You have been secluded most of your life from the outside world, and this has been our plan.

Arabella assumed she referred to her father and herself. She angled her head to follow her teacher's journey from side to side, still lost in where this was going.

However, we cannot shelter you forever. You are growing older and need to be aware of intimate matters between men and women.

What came next shocked the young princess into a horrified silence. She had no knowledge of such closed-door matters such as procreation. Perhaps she was terribly un-curious, but she had never thought much about the differences between the two genders. She simply accepted that men were men, and women were women. Now, she didn't know if she could ever look at a man without thinking of these things. Her face burned, and she wished she could hide it in her hands. Or at least block her ears.

So, Arabella, you must understand that men seek to take advantage of us weaker vessels, and we must be wary and on guard. No one must ever touch you. You must keep your distance. These intimate matters are extremely painful. Miss Bludgel's face was inches from hers. Extremely painful. You do not want to become involved in them.

With no other voice to deny or confirm Miss Bludgel's teaching, Arabella believed what she had been told and was convinced to stay away from the disgusting creatures mentioned. 

Chapter 2

Sitting in front of the waning fire in his suite, Lucas stared straight ahead, deep in thought, his arms resting on the large arms of his armchair. His day had been more harrowing than he realized. The emperor had been in a nasty mood all day, taking it out on any underling who  got in his way. Not that Lucas particularly cared for the lowly servants, but trying to deal with his employer under these circumstances had taken its toll. Lucas had been working hard for over a month to convince the ruler of Stockton to invest the kingdom's money instead of spending it