by Margs Murray
“But of course.” Amenity’s diamond spun over her wrist. “I never would, of course. Of course not. He gives only the most thoughtful gifts.”
After the strenuous meal, Enzo escort me back to my room. I wrote another letter, this one about The Lark and how beautiful the performance was. I didn’t write about the special dinner or about Lady Poppy and how she knew Grandma or about the fact I met my tailor, who was kind of hot and had mysteriously known my dimensions. I didn’t mention the ordinary man who made me feel better, but then he disappeared and was gone. I didn’t write about how it was the only thing that made me feel like me again. Nope. I covered up my head and went to sleep.
Chapter 11
As Happy as a Lark
When I awoke in the morning, two letters from home lay on my nightstand.
I ripped open the envelopes, careful not to tear the letters in the process.
Dear Waverly,
A week and a half isn’t an appropriate time to wait to write. That being said, we were over the moon to finally hear from you. We’re ready to kill your uncle. Romania! What was he thinking? We expected him to take you to a city here in America, not some foreign country. And we can’t send you letters in the mail. No, your courier informed us he will wait at the house until we respond.
Things are okay at home, but Dad is bummed. Hincho, Wilbur, and Naugle went to Florida for the summer to hit the greens. Grandma misses you and sends her love. She’s doing all right. Something new. Since you’ve left, she keeps asking about you and whether you’ve found the necklace and the words. I tell her you’re searching and will be home as soon as you do. Be prepared to have a good story about how you found it, won’t you?
Write soon.
Love, Mom and Dad
PS We know how busy you are getting to know your uncle and finding help for your grandma but don’t forget to have a little Waverly time. Go out and experience some amazing things. It’s not every day you find yourself in a foreign country.
My chest felt heavy as guilt filled me. At no point had I actively searched for the necklace or the words.
The second letter wasn’t much better.
Wavy,
Your leaving was very unexpected. No, that’s a lie. I felt it coming somehow. I am hurt. I am glad you are trying to help your grandma, but I think you’re chasing shadows. We had so much planned. I can’t even imagine what your uncle said to you or your parents to make you go along. No clue. I hope you are finding everything you need for your grandma. I know you aren’t leaving a stone unturned. I’m sure you have all the doctors in Romania searching day and night for a new diagnosis.
I’m glad I got the second hug in the kitchen. I already miss you like crazy. Write often.
Love,
Sasha
I folded up the letters and put them in the drawer. Mom and Sasha thought I was searching for help for Grandma, but all I had been doing was sulking. Sulking! And while Enzo was attempting to follow Grandma’s agenda, and I wanted to connect with people who knew her, I was falling short on discovering what was ailing her. I was so consumed with confusion on coming here and then being sad and lonely, I had missed a vital point. If this world existed, and it did, then the fortune teller existed too, and if she existed, then so did the cure. I was here to help Grandma, and yet I hadn’t even bothered to talk to Doc, a Merric specialist, about Grandma’s symptoms.
I had to be in this world at least a month, and if I didn’t stop moping around, I’d accomplish nothing. When I finally returned home, my only story would be, yeah, I was overwhelmed and didn’t leave my room, and missed every opportunity to figure out what had happened with Grandma. Or my story could be, I learned what happened to Grandma all those years ago; I spoke with a bunch of people who met her and consulted with doctors and found this necklace and the words and possibly a cure.
So I climbed out of bed.
My stylists dressed me in a 1950s style pink dress. In the mirror, I looked way too fancy to sit around my room all day. I needed to explore this place.
The marble cutter had finished the wallaby and from the looks of it, had also added an eel and a polar bear. If only I could talk to the marble artist again, but she wasn’t in the hall. Maybe it was for the best, as I remembered, she didn’t much care for Merrics and might be less than thrilled to see me.
I continued straight down the corridor until I reached a wide-open staircase descending to a massive lobby with windows at least fifty feet high. From the top of the steps, I noticed the sky was dark gray like we were in for a nasty summer storm. I wanted to be outdoors, downpour or not, and decided to take my chances before the rain started.
The green grass and trees of the garden, the clear shooting water of the fountains and the frogs jumping into the round pond couldn’t distract from the fact that the sky had been replaced with stone. This incredible palace and garden were all underground.
Manon appeared on the stairs behind me. “Good morning, Waverly.”
“We’re underground.”
“Oui. Yes. Would you like a tour of the garden?” Manon laced her arm with mine, and the smell of vanilla and raspberries rolled off her. Her blue V-neck wrap dress billowed behind her.
A few feet away, a sunless sundial pointed to seven. “Is that clock correct?”
“Early, isn’t it? Sometimes, I stay here. Much better than a hotel. You will adore L’Autre Bête. The Merrics are great lovers of art and many fine things. Can you not tell? This palace is a museum; private, yes, but brilliant.”
“I haven’t seen all that much yet. I just now figured out we are underground.”
“Ah, no good.” Manon peered around the garden as if she was looking for someone. I looked too. We were alone. She added, “We must change that immediately. I will be your tour guide.”
“Are you waiting for someone? If you are, we can do this later.”
“No, I came out to be with you,” she said, but her eyes darted around the garden once more before we walked on.
As we passed a pond, golden koi swam in circles around the water lilies. Columbine and poppies grew on the other side of the path. “How is this possible without sunlight?”
“You will find to a Merric, nothing is impossible. Take these gardens, these are not small, non. There are ten acres in total around the house, all green.”
“Ten underground acres?”
“Yes, and inside the mansion is a wine cellar filled with vintages, some hundreds of years old. The library has floors and floors of books. Art is a passion of the Merrics. Fifteen rooms have been dedicated to paintings and sculptures. There are three dining rooms; the largest can seat 450 comfortably, 500 not so much. The Merrics even have a room filled with plate sets and silverware, two floors of various dinner plates. You could use a different design each day and not get through the room for two years. Everything here exquisite, and used only two weeks a year.”
“Only two weeks a year? This place? Why?”
“You’ll know why when you experience the other palaces. The world is… is—how do they say it—your fruit basket? No, your buffet, yes and you will only need to choose what to devour. Yes. It is all yours to try. Just ask. Enzo can do anything. He lives for parties and performances. He would do anything for you; all you must do is ask.”
“Anything?”
“If you ask for it, your team will do it. Balls, parties, festivals. When I first met Bollie, he had his planner, Michelle, create an evening for me. Do you see these earrings?” She leaned in to show me her simple gold rose bud earrings. “They belonged to Queen Marie Antoinette. True, it was when she was eighty… not so advantageous but still.”
I imagined Marie Antoinette with her high wigs and wide dresses at eighty. My favorite podcast, Noble Blood, covered the death of the queen of France and the poor woman hadn’t even made it to forty, her last few years spent in torture. “That’s amazing.”
“She was always my favorite French queen,” Manon said.
I bit my tongu
e, some facts are better kept to yourself, and paused before asking, “And you said his planner found them?”
“A Merric’s planner can find anything.”
“Do you think he could find a matching necklace for my ring?” I held out my hand, and Manon examined it. “It was my grandma’s,” I said, “and she lost the matching necklace.”
Manon squeezed my hand. “If it is here, Enzo will find it. It will make him happy.”
“That is the best news,” I said with a sigh.
The path veered away from the pond to a tree-lined walk. Thick trees, good climbers. They impressed me more than the marble animals. Anyone can carve marble, but old-growth trees underground? Now, that was amazing.
A swing hung from a branch. Swings need swinging. I left Manon on the path, climbed on and kicked off towards the rocky sky. Manon walked over to join me.
“Perfect! Bollie told me he put that swing in for his nieces. He would be happy to know you swung on it.”
“Nieces?” I asked, shocked. “You mean I’m not his only niece?” I mentally added, if you can call me that…
“There is Bianca and Claudette and you, of course.”
Despite the situation, it elated me. As the only child of two only children, I’d always wanted a cousin but knew it would never be in the cards.
“Bollie has plans for you to meet them.”
This took the wind right out of my sails, and I stopped swinging. Plans for the future. “When did my uncle mention those plans to you?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Manon stopped and thought. “A year ago, maybe.”
“A year! You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I do not understand.”
“Manon, you know Bollard well. Please tell me why he brought me to this place.”
Manon frowned. “He wants to know you and for you to know your family.” The words sounded rehearsed.
“Yeah, and he brought me here to just leave. That makes no sense.”
She shrugged. “Oui, I understand, but that is the reason. He did not expect the troubles when he returned home, but issues arose when he was in your world.”
“But why me? I have nothing to offer him. I am boring and unimportant. I have no special talents. Why would he want me here?”
“You are family, Waverly. That is very important. More important to Bollie than you can imagine. It is a great compliment. Bollard’s nieces, you, Claudette, and Bianca, are his greatest source of pride.”
“Ha! You’ve got to be kidding me. He doesn’t even know me, and I don’t know him.”
“But he knows you. He said you were beautiful, quiet, and bright. He said you were sweet and special, possibly”—Manon stepped closer to the swing so she could whisper—“more powerful and more special than even Bianca.”
I shook my head and snickered. “Did he mention I’m from a different earth and that I don’t know the first thing about this place or that I wasn’t told the truth about this world until I got here and even then, a complete stranger, my new doctor, told me.”
“Yes, he did, but he feels most terrible about not being able to explain things himself. He also mentioned that Helena has been telling you for years she was a princess, but your family wrote her off, all except you.”
“That’s not true,” I said sadly. “I wish I had believed. I feel awful that I didn’t. I only questioned whether she had Alzheimer’s.”
Manon took my hand in hers. “You believed in something other than what the world told you. You questioned, and you fought for her. You put your love for her first. You argued with the specialist too.”
“Bollard knew about that?” I asked. “How did he know that, and how do so many people know things about me? Like Freddie. How does he know my clothes size? And the chef last night, how did he know about the pilings?”
“Freddie sent assistants to measure you when you arrived; they measured you as you slept. He works quickly.”
“Impossibly. And the chef?” I said.
“That I cannot answer. I only know you from what your uncle has told me, and he does not share how he gets his information.”
“Great.”
Manon backed away a little. “You know he cares about you. I mean this. He said he visited most often to check up on you and your grandmother.”
“Not surprising. He didn’t get along with Dad.” I kicked off to swing again. “And my cousins, what are they like?”
Manon took a deep breath before answering. “Claudette and Bianca are powerful and beautiful.” She added, “They are royals and you are a royal. They’ll be different to you than to anyone else, so what they are like isn’t important.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. She was skirting my questions to be nice and at the same time confirming they weren’t good people like my uncle. “So not nice?”
“No, I think my English is failing me. I cannot describe them accurately; you will need to meet them.” Manon’s English was fine. There was something she wasn’t telling me. She’d changed the subject and because I barely knew her, I let her. “Come, we should go. There is so much to see.”
I hopped off the swing, and we continued down the path. As we walked, a shadow, possibly a bird or a bat, moved over Manon’s face for a fraction of a second.
“Did you see that?” I searched the air for the animal.
“See what?”
“The shadow. Are your birds in here?”
“No, they would hate it here. The Merrics may have tricked the trees to grow, but my birds know better. Bollie has a menagerie on the roof of the building and his penthouse in New York. The birds stay there. So be honest, what did you think of the guests last night?” Manon asked as we walked on.
“You had a beautiful performance.”
“Oui. You already told me this, and my performances are my job. Très boring but the dinner afterwards!”
“It was interesting. I mean, the food wasn’t what I expected.”
“The chef made it special for you.”
“Yeah, I figured that out when most guests didn’t eat.” I still didn’t like that anyone knew my food preferences. I hadn’t once eaten like that in front of my uncle. “I would still like to know how the chef heard about my piling preference.”
“Perhaps your mother or grandmother told him in a letter. They wrote each other, you know.”
That made me stop and think. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that my grandmother or mother had told Bollard what I liked to eat. Come to think of it, perhaps all those things had been in letters. It made sense, I guessed, well a little. It was a relief, anyway.
Manon continued, “Well, the food will be all the rage now. You are already the height of fashion, and you’re not even out to the public yet.”
I stopped walking and turned to Manon. “You know I shouldn’t be the height of fashion, right?”
She turned her head in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“I mean, I’m just me. Just plain old Waverly Wilson. I’m not like some icon. People shouldn’t be copying me.”
After a moment of staring at me, Manon’s face lit up in understanding. “Ah, you are exclusive. You dislike people emulating you.”
“No, not that even. I’m no one.”
Manon smiled. “Do you really believe that?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then come with me.” Manon took my arm. When we got close to the house, she had me close my eyes. When I opened them, I did a double take. I was standing in a ballroom, and it was exactly as I had imagined it from Grandma’s stories. The floors were white hardwood. The windows reflected the room nearly as perfectly as a mirror. My feet glided across the parquet floor. I almost geeked out and danced. Almost.
Manon led me to the center of the floor. “This room is yours. It is all yours and so is the rest of L’Autre Bête. You think you are small but wait. Balls will be held in your honor. Great dances to which families will plead for invitations. Parties that the poor will
watch on the news. Little girls growing up right now will want to be you. Women will be jealous. Men will beg to dance with you, to spend one moment in your presence.”
“But why? I’m just a normal person.”
“No, you are a Merric.” I wanted to correct her with Wilson, but I saw there was no winning this argument, so I shrugged. Manon took my hand and made me give a little twirl. “I know you do not feel this now. You couldn’t even guess but you are powerful, and you belong here with the family. You shall be something special, and I cannot wait to see you become this person.”
It had been such an enjoyable morning, and Manon was such good company; I didn’t want to ruin it by telling her I would leave as soon as possible.
Next, we continued the tour to the grand dining room that was so huge it had five separate fireplaces. I cringed when Manon reminded me the hall fit 500 people. I didn’t like the ninety from last night, and this place was like an echo chamber. I imagined 500 drinkers slurping from glasses, 500 knives scratching on plates, and 500 mouths chewing and chewing.
We went quickly through many of the rooms, like the game room and private theater. There were four swimming pools (not counting the one in my room), the formal library, a private library, and a garage the size of my high school parking lot. The tour was exhausting. To think this place went un-lived in and kept in pristine order for an occasional visitor.
Enzo found us in the garage. Again, he was completely winded, running. “Waverly! Waverly!”
He bowed when he reached us, and he stayed bowed for a moment to catch his breath. Between quick and halted inhales, Enzo panted out the words ‘I did it.’
Manon said, “Great, what did you do?”
“The book. I have the whole book arranged.”
“The entire thing?” I couldn’t believe it.
“Yes, as you requested. I received Helena’s official timeline this morning, and I have arranged it all. The battle scenes were hard to format, but I have reenactments in place.”
“You did this in two days?” It was a long book, and the events detailed in it spanned four years.
