For the first hour, Mamma had told them over and over again how to behave. “Don’t be too eager to accept an invitation to dance,” she warned them. “A lady must be reserved. Don’t stuff yourselves with food. Hold your heads high and don’t look at your feet while you dance.”
“Yes, Mamma,” they said, and “No, Mamma.”
When she had repeated the same instructions several times, she fell silent, but not for long. “Susanna Spencer will surely be there.” They knew she was not really talking to them now. “She has a daughter about your age, Jane. I went to the baby’s christening, but we’ve lost touch since she moved to the city. Susanna was a lovely girl. And Papa’s friend Marcus Baxter—I think the lady he married had some daughters. It would be good to see Marcus again.”
Jane didn’t care who would be there. She wouldn’t have wanted to see anyone except Annie, but Annie wasn’t what the prince would call a “lady of quality,” and of course she wouldn’t have been invited. She watched the traffic on the road. Carriages pulled by elegant horses, their backs gleaming even in the weak evening sun, sped past them. The air chilled rapidly as darkness fell, and as they neared the end of their journey, the first stars shone above them while a full moon rose over the trees. Jane stared at a brilliant star until her eyes burned, whispering, “Please, grant my wish. Please. Please. I’ll never ask for anything again. Grant me this one wish. Please.”
She stuck out her leg from under the blanket and inspected her foot. The ancient gray silk shoe was so cracked that she doubted it would last the night. I don’t suppose I’ll have to worry about wearing it out by dancing, she thought. The prince is looking for only one girl, and that’s not me. I’ll spend the evening sitting with Mamma and Maude, watching the prince dance with lovely ladies in new gowns that suit them. If I dance with a gentleman even one time, everyone will see my ugly dress and my broken shoes, and they’ll be able to see I don’t know how to dance like them, and nobody will ask me again. I’ll go home and live with Mamma until we die.
She wondered what Isabella was doing back at home. They had left her with a good fire and broth for supper, but the girl hadn’t spoken to them or even moved as they finished their preparations. Was she still sitting in the big chair, staring at the flames?
Surely Isabella had to get up at some time, if only to go to the privy. When she did, she would see the sparkling gems that led out the back door. Tempting her with their glitter. They were just the glass and paste jewels that Mamma used to wear to costume parties and fancy-dress balls, but Isabella would think they were diamonds, as Maude used to believe when the girls looked at them in the jewel box upstairs. The light from the lantern that Mamma always hung by the back door at dusk, as though to light Papa’s way home, would make them sparkle like real gems.
Jane closed her eyes and pictured Isabella following the stones to the stable, where little Mouse stood harnessed to the yellow carriage, her coat brushed, her hooves gleaming. Jane had pulled out a dainty white gown from the box marked Serafina’s Gowns. She’d hidden the dress in the barn until they were ready to leave for the ball, and then, when she went to tend to the animals for the last time that day, she’d hung it where Isabella would have to see it as soon as she stepped through the door. The girl would think that some fairy had put it there. Jane was confident that she would have no trouble driving gentle little Mouse. Isabella knew the way to the village, and once there, all she had to do was follow the train of coaches as they sped from there to the palace. It was not the most direct route, but it was the only one Isabella knew, and it would do.
People lined the streets to watch the partygoers on their way. It had been so long since there had been any type of celebration that they cheered when anyone came by, even a farm wagon drawn by a broken-down old hunting horse. “Lady Margaret!” a woman shouted as they entered the village. “It’s Lady Margaret and the two young ladies!”
The girls sat up hastily. People that Jane recognized from church and from her infrequent trips to the market wore broad grins as they waved with enthusiasm. Mamma waved back regally and distantly, as though people cheered them every day. “You look lovely!” called out a girl about their age. Do we really? Jane wondered. Maude appeared to have no such doubts, as she grinned and waved back. Jane tried to look at her sister critically. Her dark hair was smooth and glossy, her eyes sparkled with the excitement that also lent a pink glow to her cheeks, and her teeth were straight and white. Maybe Hannah was right—it wasn’t the type of beauty they saw in the paintings, but maybe they needn’t be ashamed of how they looked.
They passed through the village and entered the open country again. Jane lay back down against the hay and thought of Isabella.
Oh, please let her find it, Jane thought. Let her come to the ball, and let the prince fall in love with her and marry her and take her away. Then it will be just me and Maude and Mamma again, the way it ought to be. She knew she should be ashamed that she was tricking Isabella and that Mamma would be very angry if she knew, but she couldn’t stop a swell of anticipation and excitement from rising in her chest like a bubbling stream. And it was what Isabella would want, she told herself—to meet the prince and be taken away from the crumbling mansion, and from her and Maude. She closed her eyes and wished again.
When Jane opened her eyes, Mamma was maneuvering the wagon into a crowded drive. She was so wrapped up in her shapeless cloak that her form was hidden, and her hood was drawn over her hair, but still, anyone could tell that she was not a common coachman, and some heads turned. Mamma urged Saladin forward but was forced to stop by the crush after only a few paces.
The courtyard was bright with hundreds of torches, some stuck into the ground, many more attached to the walls of the enormous building that loomed above them. They illuminated everything so that even though the night was full dark by now, people cast flickering shadows.
And there were so many people! Ladies were helped down from coaches as delicately as if they were made of blown glass, and gentlemen barked orders at the coachmen and the stable hands who scurried from stable to carriage and back again.
A uniformed man bustled up. “Deliveries at the rear. You tradesmen should know that by—” He stopped short as Mamma stepped down from the wagon, and her hood fell back, revealing her swept-up hair and her imperious face with its strong jaw.
“Get out, girls,” Mamma commanded. Mutely, they climbed down. Jane’s legs were stiff, and Maude groaned as she moved.
“See that my horse is fed with your best oats.” She handed the reins to the man and swept past him, leaving him staring at the old hunter. Jane did her best to imitate her mother’s imposing posture, but almost immediately she stumbled and nearly fell, so she abandoned the attempt, fearful of splitting her shoes.
They climbed the smooth stone steps. The house—of course, she reminded herself, it was the palace—gleamed a chilly white, and candles glittered in each large window, taking the place of the stars overhead, whose glow was obscured by the torches.
They were in the midst of a crowd. Everyone else wore a warm wrap and long gloves, but even in her silk dress and threadbare shawl, Jane was in such an agony of nerves that she hardly felt the cold. Would she have to dance with someone who would sneer at her as soon as he realized that she didn’t know the steps to their formal dances, and that her clothes were old and her shoes cracked and scuffed? What would the music sound like? Would there be strange foods that she would have to eat and pretend to enjoy? She envied Isabella, at home in the warm South Parlor, with broth for supper. She pushed the thought aside. I have to do this, she reminded herself. I am a Halsey. But the thought of her dead ancestors held no magic.
The man standing inside the door was richly dressed, and Jane started to drop an awkward curtsey, sure that he must be the king or some important noble. Mamma pulled her up briskly, and she tried not to blush at her mistake. Mamma handed the man their wraps an
d told him who they were.
“Lady Margaret Delaville and the Misses Montjoy,” the man repeated in a loud voice. Nobody paid any attention, and they made their way down the wide hallway. Deep rugs in rich colors lay under their feet, and the walls were crowded with portraits of people with such severe expressions that they made the painted Halsey ancestors look benign by comparison. Most of them wore crowns, but they held their heads so erect that they obviously didn’t feel their weight.
Like most everyone else, Jane, Maude, and their mother hurried past the closed doors lining the corridor. They were silent while the others laughed, exchanged greetings, asked one another questions. Mothers tugged their daughters’ sleeves straight and smoothed hair, brown and blond and black and red, straight and curly. Girls broke from their parents and clustered in little groups, whispering and talking and shrieking with laughter. Young men surveyed the crowd and commented on people’s appearances. Nobody called out a greeting to them; nobody exclaimed over their finery or complimented them on their hair. Either they weren’t as pretty as Jane had been starting to believe, or nobody cared about pretty girls if they weren’t wearing fashionable clothing and wore their hair plain instead of twisted and braided into more elaborate patterns than Mamma could manage.
Jane surveyed the dresses of the women around them. They were of shiny fabric in many colors, and at first she thought that Mamma’s blue-and-white gown fit in well. Then she noticed that the style of the other ladies’ gowns was quite different, with less lace and more embroidery than Mamma’s; that the skirts were broader and the sleeves puffier. She glanced at Mamma’s dress, which had seemed so fine at home, and saw that next to the others it looked flouncy and narrow. She dropped her gaze before Mamma could see the shame in her eyes.
Jane heard a stifled giggle and a whisper. Despite her best efforts not to look, her eyes were irresistibly drawn to a corner where several young ladies were standing. Among them were the two sisters who had surprised her and Will at the fair, and the younger one was pointing at Jane and whispering excitedly to another girl, who held her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and amusement. They fell silent, their expressions a mixture of smirks and disapproval; and when Jane turned her gaze away, trying desperately to pretend she had merely been looking aimlessly around the room, she heard them explode with laughter that brought a reprimand from someone’s mother.
Jane held tight to Maude’s hand as they pushed through the crowd, and tried to keep the tears from spilling out of her eyes. I hate them, she thought. All of them. She squeezed between two men and found herself in a wider spot. She paused to catch her breath and panicked when she didn’t see Mamma.
“Maude!” She raised her voice to be heard above the hubbub. “Where’s—” But then she saw Mamma. She was smiling, talking to a woman with gleaming blond hair tied into complicated knots, who was holding the hand of a pretty girl in a pale pink dress. The lady was not smiling back at Mamma, and she even seemed to be pulling the girl away. When the other woman turned her back on Mamma, Mamma stood rooted to the spot, her hands dangling at her sides, her face bleak, as the crowd milled and pushed around her.
Jane raised her free hand and waved to Mamma. “Here we are!” she called.
Mamma looked toward her voice, and then with a frown she joined them. “A lady does not raise her voice in public.” She pulled both girls almost roughly down the hall. Maude stumbled and stepped on the white slippers of a lady who said something harsh that Jane didn’t catch, and Jane nearly bowled over an old gentleman in her path. The hall ended in a doorway as wide as their barn door at home. People had formed a rough line and were taking turns going through it.
Jane squirmed her hand out of Mamma’s tight grasp. “Who was that lady?” She rubbed her sore fingers.
Mamma looked away, but Jane had already seen that her lip was trembling, and most unexpectedly, a tear threatened to spill out of one eye. Mamma pulled a rag, carefully folded to hide its worst stains, out of her sleeve, and dabbed at her face. “It was someone I used to know,” she said at last. “Susanna Spencer. She was my bridesmaid. But now...” Her voice trailed off, but Jane didn’t need to hear the rest. Now Susanna Spencer didn’t want to have anything to do with Mamma. Mamma, with her cracked nails, her old clothes, her anxious expression, was not fine enough for the elegant lady and her beautiful daughter.
Jane slipped her hand back into Mamma’s. Mamma held it, but more gently this time, as the crowd moved and shifted, and the three of them managed to step through into the light. Jane caught her breath at the sight of the broad landing of gleaming white marble with a gold railing that had purple velvet wrapped around its supports. Mamma dropped a deep curtsey before starting down the steps. Jane and Maude did their best to follow suit, bobbing awkwardly. Their hours of practice seemed to have made very little difference. I’m glad no one’s looking at us, Jane thought, moving cautiously onto the top step. Panic made her freeze. What if she slipped and fell down all those stairs in front of all those people?
She wished that Will could see the ballroom. He would never think of her family as privileged again. The lofty ceiling was painted with a bright scene of angels blowing on trumpets, and torchlight made the gold in their wings sparkle until it looked as if they were moving. The polished floor reflected the bright colors of the ceiling, the walls and especially the gowns of the beautiful ladies moving across it.
Music, sweet and lively, floated up the stairs to where Jane stood frozen. She swallowed and dared to look down. The room was so bright, and the colors were so vivid that it took a moment to sort it all out. In the raised gallery at the other end of the room, men wearing black suits sawed at violins, tweetled on flutes, tapped on drums. They looked oddly somber while making such a merry sound. The dancing men had none of their gravity. Instead, they laughed and talked, as did the ladies, who seemed merely to skim the floor, moved backward and forward gracefully, bowing and holding hands, then letting go and gliding away. How did they do that so lightly, so effortlessly? It had been so simple with Will, just around and around in a large circle, moving with a few simple jumps and turns that she had picked up quickly, nothing like these complicated moves. The dance steps that she and Maude had practiced with Mamma in the parlor must have been as out of date as their gowns.
Maude poked Jane. She came to herself and started down the stairs. Mamma had told them sternly that they were not to cling to the banister like little children, but to walk down straight and proud, as befitted the daughters of Halsey Hall. Jane prayed that she would not slip. Maude clutched her arm so tightly that Jane resigned herself to bruises tomorrow. She said nothing. If she’d had something to grip, she would have held on to it as hard as Maude did.
Just as they reached the bottom, the music stopped and the dancing halted. A babble of laughter and talk arose.
“Look at the food!” Maude raised her voice to be heard above the din. “I’m so hungry, I could eat it all!” At that moment the music died, and in the sudden silence her last words rang out.
“Oh, no,” Jane groaned. A few people near them snickered, and Mamma glared at Maude so fiercely that Jane, standing at her side, winced.
At some invisible signal, the ladies, including Mamma, sank to the floor, their skirts spreading around them until the pavement looked like a field of flowers. The men bowed so low that Jane thought they would knock their foreheads on their knees. Confused, Jane did her best to curtsey as deeply as the ladies around her. Maude was standing upright, looking anything but flowerlike in her harsh pink dress, and staring in bewilderment at the multitudes, who must have appeared to her to have been overcome by a sudden attack of dizziness. Jane yanked Maude’s arm, tugging her down.
“Why are we curtseying?” Maude whispered in her ear. “Mamma didn’t say anything about—” A trumpet blast from above interrupted her. Without lifting her head, Jane strained her eyes to the top of the stairs and saw
the man who had read their names earlier. He stood as straight as a pine tree at the very center of the top step.
“His Imperial Majesty, King Manfred!” Wild cheers and applause erupted when a tired-looking old man, leaning heavily on a cane, stepped forward. He raised his free hand and waved at the crowd. Even from that distance, Jane saw the tremor that shook him.
Under cover of the noise, Mamma leaned over and said to Jane, “He looks even worse than I’d heard. Poor man. He used to be so hearty.” She shook her head, even as she continued to applaud.
When the noise died down, the man spoke again. “His Majesty, Prince Bertrand.”
Jane raised her hands to clap again, but lowered them as she saw that everyone else was standing still, arms at their sides. No cries of “Huzzah!” greeted this name. Jane glanced at Mamma, whose face held a grim expression. Then she took a deep breath and looked back up the stairs.
There stood a beautiful young man with blond hair.
“Janie!” Maude tugged at her sleeve. “That’s the boy—”
“I know,” Jane said. “Hush.”
She had dared to hope for this ever since Mamma had told them about the prince falling in love with a girl he had met only once that winter. She had wished on every first star, on every chance happening that seemed to offer luck.
This young man with the sulky, handsome face was the one who had come riding to their house when they were starving and freezing. The boy who had stared so long at Isabella and had questioned her about her family’s fortune, and had danced with her as snowflakes fell around them. Jane breathed out a sigh that seemed to arise from her toes. Wishes do come true. At least some of them.
But still more had to happen. Isabella still had to find Jane’s trail of jewels and make her way to the ball, or Jane’s careful plan would come to nothing. Unnoticed, Jane moved to the window. The stars were still invisible in the torchlight. She turned her gaze to the spot in the heavens where she had seen that first star twinkling.
The Stepsister's Tale Page 17
