The Stepsister's Tale

by Tracy Barrett

  “Where do you live?” he asked, and she led the way into the South Parlor.

  She pushed open the door to the familiar scene. Maude, stretched out on the big chair that had been Harry’s favorite, glanced at Jane and then stared at the boy without speaking. Jane saw to her relief that Mamma was absent, sleeping, probably. She also saw that her sister’s hair was so tangled that the knots would probably have to be cut out rather than combed, and that her clothes were much too small and were so ripped and stained that nobody, not even the people of the woods, would want to wear garments made of the scraps they were rapidly falling into. Maude’s hands were red with sores from being cold and damp for so long. Do I look like that? Jane asked herself in a sudden panic.

  But it was Isabella who drew the boy’s attention. She squatted, thin and bedraggled, in the hearth, tracing shapes in the cold ashes with her small and filthy fingers. Their meager store of fuel stood next to the fireplace. They could not afford to kindle any of the sticks until the room grew colder after the sun set.

  Isabella looked up, and Jane could tell that she had seen the boy. Her red eyes glared out from her soot-streaked face, and her long hair was gray with ashes. A shawl wrapped about her disguised her thinness to some degree, but her pointy little face hinted at how much flesh she had lost over the long winter, despite the extra food they had been receiving for the past few weeks.

  “What’s the matter with her?” Will whispered.

  “There’s nothing the matter with me.” Isabella addressed Jane. “What is he doing here?”

  Jane felt herself blush. “He’s a—he’s a...” She sought for the right word. Will looked at her in silence, a small smile curving his lips, as though he wondered how she was going to finish. “He’s a neighbor,” she finally managed. Isabella’s silvery laugh showed what she thought of this description.

  The sound seemed to wake Will from a trance. He took a step into the room. “What’s the matter with her?” he repeated, louder this time. “What’s her name?”

  Maude spoke. “Ella. Cinder-Ella. Or you can call her Ash-Ella.” She, too, laughed, but without mirth.

  Jane took Will’s arm and drew him out of the parlor. “You see?” she asked, not caring that it sounded like I told you so.

  “I do see. But I don’t understand—you’ve always acted as though you thought you were better than the rest of us.”

  “What did I do?”

  “The way you never said hello when we came to work on your roof. The way you looked at my father when you were digging the grave for that man. And when my father and I dug the grave for you, you were too proud to say anything to me.”

  “Too proud?” That day she had been so frightened of Master Forester that she could hardly speak to him. And then she had been crying in the dairy when Will had come to return the shovel. She remembered how tight her voice had been to hide her tears. Had that made her sound proud? She flung words at him. “I’m not the proud one—you are.”

  “Me?” His voice squeaked. He cleared his throat. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s not my fault I live in a big house and my ancestors used to have servants. It’s nothing to do with me. You act like I’m not good enough for you to know, just because my family doesn’t work with their hands.” She spread her fingers. “I do work with my hands. But even if I didn’t, I’m just as good as you, and when you walk me home you don’t talk to me—”

  “I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

  “I wanted you to.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence, broken when Will suddenly looked her straight in the eyes and grinned. “So, we’ve both been wrong.”

  She nodded warily, concerned about where this was going.

  “I thought you were proud, and you thought I was proud.”

  She nodded again.

  Will stuck out his hand. “Friends?”

  She wasn’t sure what he wanted her to do, but she put her fingers in his. His palm was rough and dry and pleasantly warm, as it had been by Harry’s grave that day. “Friends.”

  He held her hand longer this time, and for some reason it felt natural. She didn’t want to remove it. She looked up at him and saw that he was smiling. Then he brought her hand to his lips, just as the hunting boy had done with Isabella that snowy day, and kissed it gently. It was over so quickly that she thought she must have imagined it.

  “I have to go home,” he said. “It’s getting dark.” Before she could stop him, he disappeared through the big door, and she heard his boots thump on the stairs as he ran down them.

  She lingered in the hall, looking at the back of her hand, which his lips had touched. It didn’t look any different, although it tingled; and when she pressed her own lips to the spot, she tried to imagine what it would have been like if instead of that swift kiss, he had pulled her to him and bent his head to her face and—

  “Jane? What are you doing?” Maude stood in the doorway.

  “Nothing,” she managed to say, and she pushed past her sister and put the basket on the table in the parlor. “Let’s see what Mistress Forester sent this time, shall we?”

  Chapter 17

  Maude took obvious delight in instructing Jane about which of the plants sprouting everywhere were useful as medicine and had to be picked now, which had to be left until flowers or berries grew on them, which had no use, and which were poisonous and should not be harvested. “There’s not much that grows around here that will kill you,” Maude informed her sister, “but some will give you a bellyache. Just ask me before you pick anything I haven’t told you about.” Jane suppressed a smile at Maude’s self-important tone and followed her instructions.

  “What’s this one for?” she asked, humoring her sister.

  Maude glanced where Jane was pointing and dismissed it with a shrug. “Nothing. But that dandelion over there—juice from the stem helps wounds heal, and a tea made from the leaves can calm your stomach. But if you drink too much—well, you’ll spend all night in the privy.”

  “What’s good for babies getting their teeth?”

  “Teething?” Maude pondered. “Chamomile. Why?”

  “Do you have any?”

  “I have some dried. I think it’s still good. Why?”

  “I just need some. Can you make it up for me?”

  “Why, Jane?”

  “For a baby who’s teething! Why else?” She softened. “Please, Maude. She cries all night.” This wasn’t strictly true; little Frances Forester had been perfectly content the last time Jane had seen her. But she felt a sudden desire to visit the Foresters’ cozy hut. I miss Annie, she told herself. Maude is being irritating.

  Maude gave Jane a small pouch of powdered chamomile and instructions on how to mix it into a paste with water and rub it on the baby’s gums. As she took it, Jane said, “If Mamma asks where I am, tell her—”

  “She won’t ask,” Maude said glumly. It was true; Mamma hardly seemed to notice their existence anymore and rarely even spoke.

  Jane gave her sister a quick hug. “Don’t worry. Now that spring is coming, things will get better. You’ll see.”

  “I hope so,” Maude muttered as she turned back to her plants.

  At first, Betsy accompanied Jane, but when the dog became distracted by a scent or a sound and dashed off through the trees, Jane didn’t bother calling her back. She was no longer afraid to come this way, at least not in the daylight. The people of the woods were too shy to approach her, and the fairies must be equally timid, for she had never seen one. Annie had told her that there were no bears or wolves in this forest, and the outlaws lived far away, on the other side of the castle.

  As she approached the hut, she was surprised to hear talk and laughter, and the creak of wagon wheels. She emerged from the trees to see the woodcutter’s horse, a brown gia
nt named Bartholomew, harnessed to the cart that normally Master Forester filled with wood to sell in the village. But today it was loaded with people: not only Mistress Forester and the baby, but an elderly couple who lived nearby, and several small children. Annie was helping the last of them in, a chubby boy who had to be perched on the lap of the old woman. Annie climbed up to sit next to her father, who slapped the reins on the horse’s back, and Jane was pleased to see how well Annie looked wearing a brown dress that Jane had patiently helped her to sew.

  “What are you doing here?” She hadn’t seen Will ride up on a shaggy spotted pony. She felt a mixture of embarrassment and anger at his curtness. Did he still resent her? What did she have to do to prove that she didn’t hold herself above them?

  “I was bringing something for Frances. It’s for teething. Mix it with warm water and rub it on her gums.” She flung the pouch at him. It fell short, but she didn’t stop to pick it up. Let him get it. It was for his sister, after all. She tried to stride away with dignity like Mamma, but tears of rage stung her eyes, and she stumbled on the rough ground. She kept her footing with difficulty but hadn’t gone very far when she heard the pony trotting up behind her.

  “Wait,” Will called. “Jane, wait.”

  Well, at least he knew her name. She stopped but didn’t turn around, afraid that he would see her tears and think he had hurt her feelings, when in fact he had infuriated her. “What do you want?” she snapped.

  He came around in front of her and pulled the reins to stop the pony, who dropped his head and cropped at the grass. Jane refused to look at him.

  “I’m sorry,” Will said. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I was surprised to see you, that’s all.”

  “Why?” His apology had dried her tears. “I’ve been here before. And it’s not like I can send word ahead that I’m coming!”

  “It’s just that I thought you’d be in the village by now.”

  “The village? Why would I be there?” She looked down the road, where the wagon was disappearing. “Is that where everyone’s going? Why?”

  “Don’t you know what today is?”

  “No, I don’t. Should I?”

  “Why, it’s the twentieth of March—St. Cuthbert’s Day. I thought everyone knew about the fair!” When Jane didn’t answer, he exclaimed, “Don’t tell me you’ve never been!”

  “Yes, I’ve been,” she said. “But not since I was small.”

  Papa had taken her. Mamma had stayed home; she must have been expecting Robert, Jane realized now, and Maude was too little for the bustle of a fair. Jane had sat on Papa’s shoulders to watch the puppet show, and he had bought her so many sweets that she couldn’t eat them all, and they had laughed at a monkey and had seen a two-headed lamb. Then some men had called to Papa from a tent, and he told her to sit and wait for him, and after it grew dark she gathered up the courage to go in and look for him among the noisy men and the short-tempered women carrying tankards. He was asleep on a bench, and when she tried to wake him he had grumbled and pushed her away, so she sat on the ground, which was wet and sour with spilled ale, until the morning, when he awoke. At first he groaned and didn’t even seem to recognize her, but then he found their carriage where the coach horses had remained harnessed all night and were so tired they could barely drag the carriage home, and Mamma had sobbed and clutched Jane to her and screamed at Papa over her head.

  She became aware that Will was talking to her. “What?”

  “You should come,” he repeated.

  “Oh, it’s much too far to walk.” She was puzzled at the offer. “But thank you.”

  “I’ll take you on the pony. I’m not going to stay long. I’ll get you back long before nightfall.”

  Suddenly there was nothing that Jane wanted more than to go to the fair with Will. Maude was right—Mamma wouldn’t even notice she was gone. And with Mistress Forester there, Jane wouldn’t be unsupervised. Still, was it proper for a girl from Halsey Hall to go to a country fair, accompanied by a boy of the woods?

  “There will be jugglers,” Will said. “And musicians and—”

  Jane made up her mind, feeling a thrill at her own boldness. “All right. Thanks.” Will reached down and hoisted her up behind him. “Can he carry both of us?” Jane asked as Will clucked and turned the pony’s head.

  “Easily,” he said. “Hold on, now—we have to trot to catch up.”

  Hold on to what? she thought, but the answer was obvious, so she tentatively put her arms around his waist; and when Will lightly kicked the pony’s sides he broke into a bouncy trot, and she clung more tightly, breathing the warm scent of leaves and trees and sap that rose from Will’s skin.

  When they slowed to a walk behind the wagon, Annie turned and called a greeting to her, a broad grin flashing on her sun-bronzed face, and Mistress Forester said, “How nice that you’re coming, Jane.” Jane smiled and waved, glowing inwardly at the welcome.

  They fell behind as Will allowed the pony to stop and graze a few times, and once he dismounted to ease the pony’s burden as they climbed a small hill. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, his tone was cordial, and Jane found herself wishing the way to the village was longer.

  But they arrived in less than an hour. Will reined in and was looking around to find a place to leave the pony when they heard his name being called. Jane turned, holding on to Will more tightly—for balance, she told herself—and saw that coming toward them were Ralph and Alys, a brother and sister who lived near the Foresters. She had talked with Alys once when she and her brother had come by the hut. She was lively and talkative, and appeared to enjoy making people laugh at her witty stories and her imitations of local people. Jane hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with Ralph, who seemed to be a particular friend of Will’s, and felt shy as he approached. The brother and sister looked very much alike, with shining auburn hair and teeth so white they flashed when they spoke or laughed, which was often.

  “Your father asked me to tell you to tie your pony to that tree.” Ralph pointed to where Bartholomew stood in the shade, unhitched from the wagon. “He paid the boy a penny to watch over them while the family’s gone.”

  “Thanks,” Will said. “Jane, why don’t you wait here while I take care of that? You must be tired of riding.”

  She wasn’t, as long as she could sit pressed against Will, but Ralph reached up to her with a friendly smile, and she allowed him to help her down. She was stiff and knew she’d be sore the next day. She was about to follow Will when Ralph said, “Looks like a good fair this year. There’s a dancing bear and a puppet show.”

  “Oh?” Jane felt foolish. She stopped and tried to think how to answer. She was so unused to speaking to anyone new that she had no idea how to carry on a conversation. What did one talk about with young men? What would Mamma say to him? “I...I’ve never seen a bear.”

  “He’s like a huge dog,” he said. “With long claws and big yellow teeth. But don’t worry—he’s wearing a muzzle and the trainer knows how to handle him.”

  They seemed to have run out of things to say. “I have to go find Will,” she said, but he laid a hand on her wrist to detain her.

  “I think he’s busy.” He sounded amused, and she followed his gaze to see Will laughing with Alys. The girl laid her hand on Will’s wrist as though to emphasize something she was saying, and then the two of them laughed again, Alys’s curls bouncing.

  “Oh.” Jane felt a sudden ache in her chest. When she could trust her voice, she said, “Thank you for your assistance.” She knew she sounded haughty, but she couldn’t help it. “I need to go find Annie now.” She turned and plunged into the crowd, hoping to lose herself so quickly that Ralph wouldn’t be able to follow.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid, she scolded herself. What made her think that Will was being anything other than polite when he offered to let her ride
with him to the fair? Of course he would leave her to find Annie and would spend time with his friends, especially the lively Alys, rather than with someone who threw medicine pouches at him.

  Jane rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. She stepped on what felt like a foot, but the throng was so thick that she couldn’t tell whose it was. A man cursed and looked around to find someone to blame. She turned away from him and found herself looking into Will’s face.

  “Where are you going?” he asked. “I thought you were going to wait for me while I arranged about the pony!”

  “It’s all right.” She hoped her voice wasn’t trembling. “I can find Annie on my own.”

  His brows drew together. “Find Annie?”

  “Yes.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “She must be somewhere down—”

  “So you wanted to be with Annie today?” Before she could answer, he tightened his lips and turned away.

  For an instant she imagined how horrified Mamma would be if she called out for a boy, especially in public, or even worse, if she told that boy that she wanted to be with him. But she didn’t care. She was sick of not saying what she was thinking, of hiding the truth from Mamma, from Maude, and now, from Will.

  “Will!” She ran after him. He stopped and turned. She swallowed and forced herself to speak. “I didn’t want to be with Annie. I thought you wanted to be with Alys.”

  “With Alys?” His incredulity would have made her smile if she hadn’t been so desperate for him to believe her.

  “I saw you talking and laughing with her, and Ralph said—”

  “Oh, Ralph said something, did he?” Will smiled and shook his head. “He was just teasing. No, I like Alys well enough—I’ve known her since she was a little orange-haired baby, and she makes me laugh. But even if I liked her in a different way—which I don’t,” he added hastily, “there would be no point. Alys is destined for the convent.”