The Stepsister's Tale

by Tracy Barrett

  “None.”

  “No one to protect her interests?”

  “I, sir, protect—”

  “I meant, no man to administer her estate?”

  “Her estate?”

  “Her inheritance from her father.” He sounded impatient. “How much have you removed from it for her upkeep?”

  “Why, none. I mean to say—”

  “You have papers from the bank to prove this?”

  Mamma seemed tongue-tied with bewilderment. “Certainly, Your Majesty—I can show that I have taken nothing from her inheritance. But why—”

  “Thank you.” The prince bowed and turned to Isabella. “The music is starting again. Would you accompany me?”

  Her face glowing, Isabella nodded wordlessly, and she allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor once again. She didn’t cast even a glance over her shoulder at them. They danced alone, and then other couples joined them. The music went on and on without pause.

  “Well.” Mamma seemed to have forgotten that she was angry with Jane. “I suppose—”

  Just then, one of the trumpets squeaked. The dancers stumbled, lost the rhythm, tried to regain themselves. The other musicians had been thrown off and stopped playing. The conductor raised his stick, but before he could bring it down, the prince had run up to the musicians’ gallery and snatched the horn from the trumpeter’s grasp.

  “How dare you!” he stormed, his voice audible even to the dancers far below him. “You made me lose my step!”

  “I apologize, Your Majesty.” The man’s voice trembled. “It has been a long night.”

  “You dare make excuses? Guards! Take this man away!” As the soldiers hesitated, the prince shouted, “Do as I say, at once!” and flung the trumpet over the rail.

  How will that man live now, without a horn to play? Jane wondered.

  She felt a tug at her sleeve. “Go away, Maudie,” she said, without turning around. The tug came again. “Go away.” This time she glanced down. It wasn’t Maude. It was Isabella, and her eyes were big and round, staring out of an ashen face.

  “Oh,” she said, in a voice just above a breath. “Oh—Jane—”

  Jane realized that this was the first time that the girl had said her name. On an impulse she took Isabella’s hand. “What is it?” She tried to sound urgent and calm at the same time.

  “I can’t—I can’t—” It sounded like Isabella was choking.

  Everyone was still distracted by the musicians, but at any minute the prince might remember Isabella and look for her. Jane pulled Isabella up the stairs, hoping that everyone’s eyes would stay on the raging prince and the distraught musician. They hastened down the broad hallway and ducked into a side room that was full of sofas and chairs piled high with sweet-scented fur wraps.

  Isabella turned to face Jane and clutched both the older girl’s hands. “He wants to marry me.”

  “He does? How do you know?”

  “He told me so. He said that he knew I was to be his princess the moment he saw me outside the house—remember?—the day that he came hunting. But we hadn’t been properly introduced, and his father cares a great deal for doing things the proper way. He knew that if he commanded all the unmarried ladies in the land to be present at a ball, I would be sure to attend. That way he could find me again and meet me under his father’s supervision, and then he could marry me honorably.”

  Marry a girl he had seen but once? The most Jane thought would happen was that he would begin a courtship tonight, not announce a betrothal. The marriage of princes was arranged by courtiers and diplomats and ambassadors.

  “But all he’s interested in is my father’s money.” Isabella’s tears were audible. “He thinks I’m a wealthy heiress.” She had the grace to blush when Jane looked hard at her. “Listen!” Isabella hissed. “Can’t you hear what he’s saying?”

  The prince’s voice rang from the ballroom, penetrating even to the small chamber where the girls were hiding. His voice boomed out, helped by his being high up in the musicians’ gallery. His words were muffled, though, and Jane opened the door to hear him say, “My subjects, this is a great evening for your kingdom. The purpose of tonight’s ball was for me to find a lady worthy to be my bride. And I have found her.” A murmur ran through the hall.

  “She is the daughter of a nobleman, now deceased, and she lives in a nearby manor with her stepmother and two stepsisters, who use her cruelly.” Jane looked at Isabella again.

  “Well,” she said, “while we were dancing I did tell him how hard you make me work....” Her voice trailed off as Jane rolled her eyes.

  “We will celebrate our marriage as soon as the arrangements can be made,” the prince went on. Jane closed the door. She didn’t need to hear any more.

  “What can I do?” Tears streamed down Isabella’s face. “What will he do to me when he finds out I don’t have any money? Did you see what he did to that poor musician?”

  “But I thought you wanted to marry the prince!”

  “Not anymore.” Isabella shook her head vigorously. “Not now that I’ve met him. I thought he would be wonderful, but he’s not. He’s awful. He didn’t even want to learn anything about me. All he wanted to know was the size of my father’s fortune and was I his sole heir, and did I have a guardian or could I get the money right away.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “I told him...” The girl hesitated, and Jane saw shame on her face. “I told him that my wicked— That my stepmother had control of it.” Isabella’s face was almost as red as the prince’s had been when he burst into the ballroom. “That was before I saw how awful he was,” she added hastily.

  “What else?”

  “And I also told him I was sixteen.”

  Jane squirmed with the knowledge that it was her fault that the girl had come to the ball. If she had stayed home, the way Mamma had intended, the flighty prince would surely have found someone else whose fortune he could secure, and he would have soon forgotten all about the pretty girl in the tumble-down house in the woods.

  “I have to leave,” Isabella said. “I have to hide from him.”

  Jane looked out the tall window at the night. The long carriage drive twisted around the castle, and coachmen and stable hands stood around open fires, warming their hands and drinking and laughing. The easy thing would be just to go back into the ballroom and let Isabella sort it out for herself. But Jane knew that she was at least partially responsible for the mess that the girl was in.

  “Stay here,” she ordered. “I’ll bring your carriage around and you must drive away as fast as you can, back home. If he comes looking for you later, we’ll—” But she didn’t know what they would do. “I’ll think of something,” she finished, hoping she sounded more certain than she felt.

  Isabella nodded. “I’ll wait here.” A sob interrupted her words. “Hurry!”

  Jane sped into the corridor, out the huge front door and down the torch-lit steps. After the heat of the stuffy ballroom filled with the smell of food—some of it tinged with the sickly odor of rot—and then the corridor that was smoky with torches, the cold air refreshed her, and she ran with renewed energy. The courtyard was choked with conveyances. Where was Isabella’s carriage? Jane saw a huge red coach, noble arms painted on its side, and a gray one with elegant scrollwork on the door next to a black-and-gold carriage with heavily curtained windows.

  Jane let herself into the warm stable. She passed two huge black horses and a pair of matched bays that must have cost more than the carriage they pulled. No men were in sight. Few of the company would dare offend the prince by leaving the ball so early, and the stable men would not return to their duties until their services were needed by departing guests. More tall horses crowded the stalls. She saw Saladin, his nose still in the feeding trough.

  J
ane finally spotted the small orange-and-white carriage against the back wall. The grooms must have drawn it inside to make more room for the larger ones in the crowded drive. “Mouse!” Jane called. “Mouse! Where are you?”

  An answering whicker came from the far end of the stable. There was the pony, her eyes half-closed, her belly round. The groom must have been sufficiently impressed by Isabella’s manner to let Mouse eat her fill of oats. At least one of them had enjoyed princely food, Jane thought. She found the pony’s tack—the miniature harness was easy to spot among so many large ones—and strapped it on her, and then buckled the small bridle. Her fingers trembled so that they hardly obeyed her as she fastened the harness trappings around the sleepy beast, but when it was finally done, she led Mouse out the stable door. A few grooms glanced up at her without interest and then turned back to their fellows.

  She looped the reins around a ring and sped up the palace stairs. A commotion rose from the ballroom. She blessed it for occupying the attention of the prince’s guests, and entered the cloakroom.

  It was empty.

  “Isabella!” Jane called into the dark room, as loudly as she dared. “Ella! Where are you?”

  The pile of furs on the sofa convulsed, and Isabella crawled out from under them. “Oh, Jane.” She clutched the older girl with trembling fingers. “He’s looking for me! What shall I do? Where is my coach?”

  “Outside the door. Run to it and drive away. No one will think to look for you outdoors. Go straight—”

  An unfamiliar young man staggered into the cloakroom. He stopped in the doorway. “Where is she? Are you here, lovely lady? Your prince wants you, and he wants you now!” His unfocused eyes swiveled around to where the girls were standing. Isabella drew near Jane, and Jane put a protective arm around her shoulders.

  “Is it one of you?” The young man reeled closer, the smell of liquor preceding him. “If it is, you have to come—if you don’t come soon, the prince will lose his temper, and you don’t want to see him when he’s angry!”

  How much worse can he get? Jane wondered, as she eased herself and Isabella toward the door. “Why, no,” she said to the young man. “What lady? We’ve only just arrived. The prince has not met either one of us yet. You see, here we are, just leaving our wraps.” The big clock in the ballroom started to strike the hour. Under cover of the clanging, Jane whispered to Isabella, “Remember, when we get to the door run straight to the carriage.”

  “I can’t run!” Isabella whispered back. “Not in these slippers!”

  “Take them off, then,” Jane answered. “Take them off and run as fast as you can—now!” The girl stooped to remove her shoes, and then, faster than Jane would have believed possible, Isabella flew out the door and skimmed down the corridor and out into the night, clutching the sparkling slippers in her hand. The young man took a step in her direction, got his feet tangled with each other, and fell heavily forward.

  Another figure flung itself into the room just as the clock stopped chiming. “Is she here?” It was the prince. “Is she here? Someone said she came in here!”

  “There’s just me, Your Majesty,” Jane said, but he took no notice of her as she moved slowly and carefully to stand between him and the door.

  The drunken young man spoke from the floor. “There was another one! A little one, with light hair and a white dress—she went out there!” He pointed.

  The prince lunged for the door. He collided with Jane and then pushed her aside so roughly that she nearly fell, catching hold of a tapestry edge just in time. The prince ran out the door and down the stairs into the drive, Jane right behind, her heart pounding so that she could not hear anything. If Isabella was still there...

  But she need not have worried. The carriage and its driver had disappeared.

  “After her!” the prince cried. “After her! Don’t let her get away!” The coachmen came running, but by the time any of them understood what they were to do, long minutes had passed.

  Run, Mouse! Jane thought, clenching her hands into fists and willing speed to the pony’s legs.

  The coachmen and grooms pulled horses from stalls, fumbling with harness straps, while the prince cursed at them. “No time for carriages! To horse! To horse!” They removed the harnesses and flung them on the ground, and new grooms came running out and threw saddles on the horses’ backs, tightening cinches and sliding bridles over their long faces. One, then two, then a dozen of the king’s men leaped onto the saddles and tore down the dark road.

  A groom led out the tall white horse. As the prince strode forward, his hand reaching for the bridle, he stumbled on something. He reached down, and when he straightened, Jane saw that he held a shoe.

  A shoe that winked and twinkled, even in the torchlight. Isabella’s glass-covered slipper.

  Chapter 24

  Jane’s legs gave out, and she sank to her knees on the sharp gravel of the drive. She didn’t know how long she stayed there, numbly watching as the prince tucked the shoe into his shirt, mounted his white horse, and galloped off, followed by a stream of men and a pack of hounds roused from their sleep in the stable. People clattered down the palace steps asking, “What happened? Where did he go? Who was that girl?” She was shaken from her frozen state only when a hand clasping her wrist made her start.

  “Where’s Isabella?” It was Maude. “What happened?”

  Jane told her. Maude’s eyes grew wider and wider, and her mouth formed a silent O of surprise.

  “He’ll catch her soon,” Maude whispered. “What will he do to her? Oh, Janie...”

  Her words turned to sobs, but Jane had stopped paying attention. People were ordering their carriages, shouting for grooms who came running from their fires and out of the stable, many of them hurriedly pulling on boots and coats. They must be surprised to be leaving so early, Jane thought. Mamma had said that they would probably be the first to go at midnight, that most people would remain dancing and feasting until dawn. The drive became blocked with horses, carriages, grooms, frightened-looking ladies and gentlemen asking one another what had happened.

  A tiny glimmer of hope gleamed weakly in Jane’s mind. Yes, the prince knew how to get to their house, as Maude said, but he would go there by the most direct route. How had Isabella come? Did she know the shortest way? Or had she come on the road that she was familiar with, the one that ran through the village?

  Still, Maude was right: Mouse was very slow. She was small and tired, and she was pulling a coach. The prince’s horse was large and hadn’t had to drag a carriage all the way there that evening, and he was bearing only the weight of one slender young man. If the prince went the same way that Isabella had gone, he would certainly catch her—had probably already caught her.

  Jane stood and listened tensely. No triumphant cries, no terrified shrieks reached her ears. Still, it was only a matter of time before the prince or his men thought to search on the other road.

  And what shelter could Halsey Hall offer, even if Isabella arrived there ahead of the prince, even if she and Maude and Mamma were there when he arrived? Mamma would never be able to see past the story she was living in to grasp the reality of what Jane had brought to pass. Only she, Jane, understood, and only she could try to fix it.

  She stood up. “Find Mamma and tell her what happened.” She made her voice firm, firmer than she felt, so that Maude would pay attention. “Tell her I’ve gone after Isabella.”

  “But what will you do when you find her?” Maude wailed.

  Jane didn’t know. She only knew that she couldn’t allow the girl to flee alone into the night. “I can’t just stay here,” Jane said. “I have to go now, Maude. Tell Mamma not to worry.” She evaded Maude’s grasping hands and ran to where the drive met the road, squeezing between coaches, narrowly avoiding a heavy hoof that stamped the ground next to her foot, still wearing the flimsy dancing shoe
. She paused when she reached the road.

  More of the king’s men came galloping past her in a long stream, shouting to one another and waving swords and torches. None of them paid Jane any heed, and even if anyone had noticed her, there was nothing to connect this poorly dressed, awkward girl with the lovely creature who had captivated the prince and the guests at the ball. No one had any reason to follow her. She started walking again, tripped over the flapping toe of her shoe, took another few steps, and wedged the heel in a rut. Impatiently she ripped both shoes of her feet and continued barefoot.

  If the dirt road had been frozen, she would have been walking on a hard surface and not splashing through puddles and sinking in icy ooze. At first she winced as her toes turned into what felt like chunks of cold stone, but soon she lost feeling in them. Once she stopped and sat on a rock and rubbed her feet until feeling returned to them, but she was suddenly chilled, not only by the wind and the freezing mud, but by the thought of her small stepsister cowering in her orange carriage, surrounded by angry armed men and that leering prince. She took to the road again.

  She allowed herself to be heartened by the absence of pursuers and even of guests leaving the palace. It would take some time for the large, grand coaches to be made ready to depart.

  Jane would have given a great deal to see a farm cart or the wagon of a laborer making an early start to market or the fields. She didn’t think she could walk much farther, and someone might take pity on a barefoot girl in gaudy, bedraggled finery walking alone on the cold road, and would offer her a lift. Why did I come after her? she thought as she stumbled on a rock that was pointing out of the mud. She knew the answer, though. She had to take care of Isabella because nobody else would. Just as nobody else would milk Baby, and nobody else would chop wood, or tell Maude to wash her face, or turn the milk into cheese if she did not.

  She was too tired to go on, and her numb feet hardly supported her. A fallen tree by the side of the road would be as good a place as any to sit and wait for the sun to rise. Maybe its warmth would renew her energy. She sat down on the cold bark and hugged her knees to her chest, wrapping her feet in her dress. In the moonlight she could make out a dark stain spreading on the cloth, although whether it was mud or blood, she couldn’t tell.