"Go away, Brenda!" Miranda Barrett snapped at her younger sister, who had walked into the garden just as Miranda was in the midst of a kissing and groping session with Sir Henry Badderly. Brenda's timing was always atrocious. And Miranda could already tell by the glint in Brenda's velvet- brown eyes that the seventeen-year-old found the sight of her twenty-two-year-old sister being pawed by their father's friend appalling.

     "Father requests your presence in the salon," Brenda said, gazing at both her sister and her father's friend with disapproval.

     "Oh, Brenda, remove that scowl from your lovely visage," Sir Henry bade her. "I assure you, you witnessed nothing but a friendly kiss from me to your sister."

     Brenda rolled her eyes. Did the man think her completely dense as to believe that tale? She found his behavior disgusting. His taking advantage of her father's trust to go groping one of his daughters behind the cherry blossom trees!

     "What does father wish to speak with me about?" Miranda asked, fixing her dress.

     Brenda shrugged. "He wishes to see all of us," Brenda said. "I believe it is a family matter," she added, shooting a glance at Sir Henry.

     He took the hint as he gave Brenda a smile. Lord, but the girl made a man ache with desire just to gaze upon her. She was far too independent, however. Far too difficult to control. Far too desirable. Far too easy to love. Which was why he chose to pursue Miranda instead. She was the kind of a wife Henry could control and could rest assured in the fact that he would never be weakened with love for her, she would not defy him and cause any spectacles. He could hardly say the same of the vibrant Brenda.

     Then there were Victoria and Geneva, the other eligible Barrett daughters. But Geneva was far too much like Brenda, and Victoria had her nose in the air, determined to marry royalty and nothing else. Sir Henry knew why his friend, Harlan, was calling this family meeting with his daughters, for Harlan had confided in him his good fortune only this morning. Henry thought it to be his own personal good fortune as well, for he'd been wanting an heir and thinking about marrying. Now that one of the Barrett girls would marry royalty soon, Henry could then choose amongst the remaining sisters, although Miranda remained his most likely choice. Henry knew that Harlan would not object to a union between himself and one of the older daughters. He would live quite a marvelous life as the in-law of a princess, he thought. Ah yes, life was going to be rather pleasant.

     "I shall take my leave then," Henry said with a smile aimed towards Brenda's disapproving, little scowl. "Until tomorrow, ladies. Do tell the rest of the family I wished them a good night," he said, turning to leave.

     When Henry was gone, Brenda stared at Miranda incredulously. "Miranda, that man is old enough to be our father! And we call him 'uncle'. How could you let him touch you like that and stick his tongue in your mouth? Why, it's borderline incestuous!" Brenda said with a shiver of revulsion.

     "Oh, do be silent!" Miranda snapped. "Perhaps, sister, dear, if you and Geneva would drop off the face of the earth for a few days, the young men of the Kingdom of Fahrlane, or at the very least our township of Devonshire, would pay the proper attention to Victoria and myself, and I would not have to be seeking affection from a man old enough to be my father! And have you ever had a man's tongue inside of your mouth? It's not at all unpleasant, I can assure you," she said with a gloating smile.

     "Would you blame everything under the sun on Geneva and me?" Brenda asked in exasperation. "And I have no interest in a man's tongue being anywhere near me, thank you."

      Miranda glared at her sister. "You and Geneva should have taken Aunt Deidre up on her offer to go and live in London City with her," she said. "It would have been a smashing opportunity for you both. You'd likely have been wed by now, and Father would have that much less of a burden. Do you think it is easy for him to support all five of us and our greedy mother, too? And it's an embarrassment that none of us are yet wed. *You,* Brenda, are starting to make people wonder what is wrong with you since you keep turning down every proposal you get. Why not just marry and relieve Father of at least one mouth to feed and body to clothe?"

     Being very close to her father, Brenda took exception to Miranda trying to tell her of his troubles. "I know how difficult it is for Father that we're all still living at home," she said. "And our mother is not the only one filled with greed in this family," she added, shooting Miranda a knowing look. "But I will not be made to feel the guilty party for any of this. None who have asked for my hand were men Father approved of," she added. Her sister needn't know the truth: that Brenda had pledged her love and her heart to Michael Carruthers, a brave soldier in the King's magnificent army. She would marry no one but him. As soon as he returned from the neighboring Kingdom of Kent, where he was visiting friends, he would go to her father and ask for permission to marry her.

      "Father is being ridiculous," Miranda said. "He should not be so picky about whom he feels is worthy of you. All of those men were rich, Brenda. And what this family needs desperately is money. Why, you've only to think of our sweet, little Kayla, only six years old and having to wear our hand-me-downs. Had you wed Oliver Garwood, or Ralph St. John, or Alister Crowley, or any of the dozens of rich fops who were salivating to wed you, we would all be living a much better life -- perhaps we could even move to the richer section of Devonshire, or even to Windsor! And Kayla would have lovely new clothes, and toys, and . . ."

      "Father is waiting for us," Brenda said, cutting her off, not wanting to hear any of this and feel guilt-induced by Miranda's manipulations. Brenda marched off towards the house, and Miranda followed her.

     "My daughters," Harlan Barrett said, gazing at the five dark-haired females sitting on the tattered, rust-colored couch across from him. "I've got news -- glorious and exciting news to share with you all."

     Their mother stood behind him, waiting for him to tell the girls what was going on.

     "You are all aware of the accident that befell our carriage yesterday. What you are unaware of is the other party we had the accident with was none other that our own Queen Jane."

     All five of the girls, even little six-year-old Kayla's, eyes widened.

     "You had an accident with our Queen?" Victoria gasped. "Father! The King will have you jailed! Or hung!"

     Harlan Barrett shook his head. "Oh, no, quite the contrary, my dear. You see the Queen was thrown from her coach and nearly sent hurtling over the mountain road towards the Lake of Sapphires. Her attendants sought to rush to her, but it was I who got to her first and pulled her to safety. She was grateful to me -- so very grateful. She offered me anything I desired."

     "We are rich!" Miranda jumped up with glee. "You asked for a bounty of riches, did you not, father?"

     Harlan shook his head. "Truly, I did not wish to ask for anything. For me it was a great honor to save Her Majesty. But your mother thought that I should ask her for something that would greatly benefit one of you and would also end up benefiting us all."

     "What did you ask for, father?" Brenda asked.

     "I asked that one of my eligible daughters -- one of you," he said gazing at his four eldest, "be chosen as the bride of Prince Jasper," Harlan revealed.

     His daughters stared at him in shock.

     "She laughed at you, didn't she," Geneva guessed, giving her father a sympathetic look.

     "At first, yes, she did," Harlan confessed. "But then she seemed to pause in thought and asked if she could see my daughters. You were all in the carriage still shaken up from our accident, so I thought it would not be the best time to meet Her Majesty in the states you were in. So instead, I presented her with the miniatures of you all that I always carry with me. She gazed upon them, and then she told me it would be done. Her son would wed one of *my* girls! I nearly passed out from shock, but did get hold of myself long enough to make arrangements with our Queen."

     The girls were all talking in a gaggle of excitement and disbelief. All except for Brenda, who was silent and pensive.

     "We are all to go to the palace!" their mother announced, as the girls squealed with glee. "Her Majesty has invited us there so that the Prince may make the acquaintance of all of you and then make his choice among you. We are to be there for the season, at the end of which will culminate with a glorious wedding ceremony. One of you shall become a princess!" Veronica said. "And the one who is chosen can do so much for the rest of the family. She can introduce the rest of you to Earls and Counts and see that you all marry very well. She can buy us all wonderful homes along Surrey Lane in Windsor. Oh, it will be glorious for every Barrett here!"

     Brenda dug her nails into her palms in disbelief. They thought this was *good* news? That they were to be auctioned off to the Prince like prime cattle?! Did no one care that love was absent from this vile equation!

     "Oh, we've so much to do!" Miranda said, taking hold of Victoria and skipping around the room. "I won't lie to you, sisters, I hope and *plan* to be the one Prince Jasper chooses!"

     Victoria laughed. "Cancel those plans, sister, for it is I who was born to marry royalty. He will choose me!" Victoria said gaily.

     "Brenda," Kayla said, tugging on her favorite sister's hand. "He will choose you, won't he? I want him to choose you!"

     "Shhh, Kayla. No he will most certainly not choose me," Brenda said, a rebellious glint in her eyes.

     "Certainly not," Miranda agreed.

     "You sparkle far too much for the likes of His Highness," Victoria agreed. "I know *all* about royalty and what they desire. Their brides should be regal, quiet and dignified, not overly pretty and uncontrollable. They don't want a bride that stands out in any way, so you and Geneva will surely not be chosen," Victoria predicted.

     Seventeen-year-old Geneva, Brenda's fraternal twin, waved a dismissive hand at her older sisters. "I think Brenda and I have a far better chance of being chosen than either of you," she said. And she said no more. For if the amount of gentlemen callers were any indication, Geneva's statement was accurate. Boys and men would call seeking the company of the twins ten times more than they ever would the company of Victoria and Miranda.

     "We shall see," Miranda sniffed. "Mark my words, I shall be the princess of the family. But fear not, sisters, I shall still treat you kindly and invite you to the palace often and buy you lovely dresses, homes to live in, and try to find you decent husbands."

     Brenda listened to her sisters and mother babble on until the words all blurred into one another with no sense or meaning. Her father was watching her and saw that she was having a decided lack of reaction to his most amazing bit of news. He walked over to her and took her arm, leading her over to the window where he pulled back the fraying curtains so they could see the sunset.

     "What troubles you, my child?" he asked her, one hand stroking the glossy darkness of her hair.

     "Father, may I please not be a part of this?" she asked him.

     Harlan gazed down at the petite beauty in surprise. "You don't wish to be a princess, Brenda? To live in the palace, to have the world at your feet?"

     "What is all of that without love?" she asked. "I tell you what it is, father, it is nothing. I will not marry anyone that I do not love," she said stubbornly.

     Harlan sighed. He might have known his most idealistic child would find the prospect of marrying the Prince lacking. Only she would put love above all else. She was the rarest of gems. But she was also being very foolish.

     "Brenda, I know where you are going with this," her father said unhappily, "and you know very well that I highly disapprove of that Carruthers fellow."

     "But he loves me, father." She paused and then continued. "He wishes to marry me when he comes back from his visit to Kent," Brenda revealed.

     Harlan's eyes darkened with displeasure. "I forbid it!" he declared. "That man is highly distasteful, Brenda. And I have long sensed the brute in him. I shall not permit my sparkling child to be the prize of that boorish dullard!"

     "Father, he is not a brute, nor a boor," Brenda protested. "He is just very...intense about the things he believes in," she tried to explain, desperate to get her father to like the man she had every intention of marrying.

     "He disparages the throne, Brenda," Harlan said angrily. "I have heard the lout do it with my own ears. And then he has the hypocrisy to defend the very throne he disparages by being a soldier in Our Majesty's army. His sort is duplicitous and not to be trusted. I shall never consent to a union of any sort between you and that man, young lady. Hear me now, for that is my final word on the matter," Harlan insisted.

     Brenda's stance was just as stubborn as her father's.

     "And I will never consent to marry the Prince!" she countered.

     Harlan's eyes twinkled. "What makes you think, my dear, that he will even choose you?"

     Brenda flushed a bit. "He won't. I mean, I never meant to presume that he would… I mean . . ." she faltered, and then her eyes grew determined. "I will make sure he does *not!*" she promised. And her father sighed wearily, knowing his stubborn daughter was concocting some silliness.

Song Credit: "Storybook" written by Frank Wildhorn and Nan Knighton, available on the album entitled The Scarlet Pimpernel on Angel Records.