Franny needed to run back home as fast as she could. She simply could not live another minute without checking the picture in the rose locket. If this was the case, if it really was Rose in that rose, then it must belong to her—and Franny would indeed be a thief if she kept it.

Rose heard the door open again.

“Ah, what luck! Another Ashley, Mrs. Belson told me. Ashleys are always good! Couldn’t have come at a better time!” the woman exclaimed. She was as thin as a scarecrow with her hair slicked back into a tiny bun the size of a Ping-Pong ball.

“Follow me, dear.”

She moved in a sprightly manner as they wound their way up the twisting stone staircase. “Now it must be understood that you are not a companion to the princess. Your sole responsibility is to keep her quarters tidy. Check her gowns for stains and small rips that can be easily mended by you, not the head seamstress. We don’t bother her with those tasks like buttons or darning. That’s for you or Sara, the wardrobe maid, to tend to. You are also to wash the princess’s undergarments—petticoats, drawers, and so on. But that is only required once every few months when she changes them.”

“Eeeewww!” Rose exclaimed.

“What is that noise you just made?” Mrs. Dobkins turned around quickly as they made their way up the stairs.

“Oh, nothing . . . I thought I felt a sneeze coming on. That’s all.”

Mrs. Dobkins nodded and continued to explain her duties as a chambermaid to Princess Elizabeth. “Well, we’re here now.” Mrs. Dobkins knocked on a massive oak door.

“Enter!” a young voice called out.

The door creaked. “Milady, this is the new chambermaid, Rose.”

The princess was still wearing the blue dress. Her red hair was no longer in braids but flowed freely over her shoulders. Rose managed a curtsy. She had seen this done enough in movies. When she straightened up from the curtsy, her eyes and the princess’s met. There was more than a glimmer of recognition in the princess’s eyes. But she did not call her guards this time.