“Is he as handsome as everyone says he is?”
I felt my cheeks turn red. Why am I blushing? My sister, Cassidy, was the blusher, not me.
“The top of his face was hooded, but you could still see his eyes,” I explained, “and they were dark and beautiful.”
Katie sighed. “I bet he’s handsome. Someone with beautiful eyes just has to be handsome.”
Agreed.
Shaking the thoughts of the unobtainable and fictional knight of the road, I said, “You haven’t showed me the locked and haunted rooms yet. You can’t tempt me with such an idea and then not do it.”
“Very well, Miss Brinlee.” Katie beamed. “Your curiosity is as powerful as mine.”
She placed the last pin in my hair and guided me out into the hallway. “There is much about Sherwood Manor that is unexplained, Miss Brinlee—many mysteries and secrets,” she whispered.
Now we’re talking. My arms tingled with goosebumps.
“For instance, no one besides Lady Catherine enters the fourth-floor tower,” Katie continued. “She holds the only key. Some say the fourth tower is a shrine or vault of her stolen wealth. Others say she is a witch and needs a secret chamber for her potions and spells. There are a few who believe it is a crypt for her victims.”
“What do you think?” I whispered back.
Katie paused. “Well, it was rumored that Lady Catherine had always admired the estate, and many people were not surprised when she set her sights on Miss Gabriella’s father.”
“Do you think Catherine had something to do with his death?”
When Katie nodded, chills ran down my spine.
“Miss Gabriella’s father became ill only a week after the presumed nuptials were exchanged,” Katie said.
“How awful.”
“At Lady Catherine’s request, Miss Gabriella’s father was moved closer to town to be nearer Fenmore Falls’ only apothecary, where he could receive medical treatment.”
“What happened?”
Katie shrugged. “No one saw Miss Gabriella’s father again, not even Miss Gabby.”
“How can that be?”
“He died suddenly, and because of fear his disease might be contagious, his body was buried right away,” Katie whispered as we walked down the hall.
“Gabriella never saw her father after he died?”
Katie’s blond hair swished against her shoulders as she shook her head.
“It seems like someone is trying to hide something,” I said.
Katie’s eyes grew wide. “Now you understand why there are many secrets here at Sherwood Manor.”
“Do you think Lady Catherine is in league with the people trying to overturn the kingdom?” I asked. “Is that why Black Rider was questioning our driver?”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it were so.”
From down the hall, a voice said, “Katie, what are you about?”
We jumped at the sudden sound. From the opposite end of the hallway came a stout, redheaded man, his round belly protruding over his trousers. A chuckle escaped me as he wobbled over to us, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. As he came closer, I recognized him as Henry, the man who’d driven us to town a few days before.
“Katie, Lady Catherine needs your service and is angry with your tardiness,” he said with a slur.
Katie bowed her head and curtsied. “Sorry, Sir Henry.”
“Don’t waste my time with a curtsy,” the short, freckled man growled. “Make haste!”
Katie rushed down the hallway, glancing over her shoulder to wave at me. I waved back.
The short man narrowed his gaze to mine. “Good day, Miss Brinlee,” he mumbled. Then, he turned abruptly and wandered away. I watched until he turned the corner.
It was times like this, standing alone in a possibly haunted manor with a possibly wicked stepmother, that I was miffed at my childhood friends for showing me all of those horror movies. Thoughts of Chucky sneaking up behind me, or pets rising from the dead, made my heart beat a loud bass inside my chest. Wait until my friends got a load of this story—“Brinlee Stuck in Time, Fighting off Evil Stepmothers.”
Now that would make a good movie.
I spent the rest of the day in the kitchen, helping prepare for the dinner party the next day. Amanda and I cut and boiled celery, while Miss Brenda creamed butter, ground wheat, and got milk for a cream sauce. The main course would be a creamed-celery casserole topped with pecans and breadcrumbs.
The servants of the manor shuffled in and out of the cozy kitchen for their noon and evening meals. Much to my joy, I met Katie and Amanda’s mother, Maryanne. She was as sweet as my nana but a bit more round and jolly, like Mrs. Santa Claus. My eyes brimmed with tears as I remembered my own home and my family, and I savored every bit of Maryanne’s motherly attention.
Krys, the cute stable boy, entered the kitchen and was joined by two young men who introduced themselves as Jeremy and Ben. Neither was as striking as Krys nor as obviously smitten with Katie. While Krys was in the kitchen, his eyes frequently wandered to her. Once more, she blushed and shyly stared at her hands in her lap.
The only time the room was quiet was when Sir William entered. The other servants stopped talking as if deferring to his authority, and William didn’t speak a word as he quickly placed some food on his plate. He nodded in my direction before he left.
With its friends and warm food, Sherwood Manor’s kitchen reminded me of home. I felt my sister next to me through Katie and Amanda. Maryanne reminded me of Nana. With Fred sleeping at my feet, I almost forgot my crazy circumstances in the shadows of my nostalgic memories.
By the end of the evening, the tables were covered with vegetables and ingredients that were measured and ready for the next day. Even the coals for the fire were placed and set for the morning rush, when the majority of the work would have to be done. Cooking back then required more skill, as it was done over wood fires. Several times, I had watched Miss Brenda stoke the fire, judging the temperature by color and brightness before placing the food near the heat. I discovered that yellow heat was hotter than orange, and orange was hotter than red. I also noticed that when Miss Brenda took hot coals out of the fire, she always put more wood on it.
That night, all of us were tired. I was the last one in the kitchen, and I heard Fred clawing at the kitchen door to go outside. Wearily, I opened the door for him to exit and do his duty. When he returned, I said, “It’s a good thing you’re so cute or I would have locked you outside.”
Just as the dog crossed the threshold, I noticed the mud splattered on his paws. “Stop,” I commanded. I knew Lady Catherine would be furious if an animal brought muddy footprints into her house.
The cute mutt followed my order and halted. I lifted him and carried him over to the washbasin, where I cleaned and rinsed his paws with my apron. The mud complemented the food and ashes already on my clothes. I laughed, thinking I almost looked the part of the storybook Cinderella.
After I put Fred on the floor, I turned to the magic door next to the hearth. Tonight was my fourth night at Sherwood Manor, and I was no closer to finding my way home than I’d been that first night.
Perhaps there was a trick to opening the door. Maybe I was doing it wrong. I raised my fingers to the frame of the door and searched for a latch or button or anything that might be hidden. I crawled on the floor and looked beneath the door, hoping to find a lever. I remembered a scene in a movie where someone finds a piece of rope stretched across the floor, and when they lift it up it opens a secret passageway. But in my case, I found nothing. Yep, I’m destined to stay here forever.
Exasperated, I began to bang on the door with my fists. “I’m not supposed to be here!” I shouted. “I’m not Cinderella!” I’m just a misplaced girl from Idaho.
“There is going to be a ball, Gabriella,” I said to the magic door. “At the ball, you meet the prince.” My forehead rested on the door. “You have to meet the prince, Gabby.”
As before, there was no response.
“I’m not Cinderella,” I pleaded. “You are.”
I pushed myself away from the door and slowly turned to go to my bedroom. “This fairy tale is your territory, Gabby, not mine,” I mumbled. “Fight your own battle.”
Chapter 9
Nana’s Bridge Club Friends, Every Thursday
Nana and her two friends had been together for as long as I could remember, even before my mother was born. They had shared life together, raising babies, building houses, and supporting husbands. And now they were soaring through life widowed, ignoring the fact that they were sad and alone.
Miss Wendy, now in her midsixties, had been an actress in her prime years, a golden-haired song lark. Her darling Victor had been gone for five years, but her blue eyes still sparkled as vibrantly as the heavens. At fifty-seven, Alice “Allie” Holt was the youngest of the three friends. Her husband, Lynn, had died only the previous winter. The feelings of her forlorn heart often showed on her face.
During one of their weekly bridge club visits, Miss Wendy asked me, “Where is your mother this summer?”
“She had a conference in New York last week, and I think she is now in Chicago taking a graduate class for the next month or so.”
“I miss Abigail,” Allie put in. “I haven’t seen her for so long.”
Miss Wendy said, “Don’t forget that Miss Businesswoman, who doesn’t like to visit us anymore and spends all of her summers working too much, doesn’t like to be called Abigail anymore, or Abby, for that matter. She prefers Gail.”
Allie wrinkled her nose, “I’ll never call her Gail. I’ve always called her Abigail, and that’s what I’m going to keep calling her.”
“Well, either way, she prefers Gail. She’s decided to grow up on us, and I guess her childhood nickname goes along with the change,” Miss Wendy said sadly. “She’s not our little princess anymore.”
Day 5
I awoke to screaming. I opened my bedroom door and peeked into the long corridor just in time to see Amanda racing toward Lady Catherine’s room.
“Amanda,” I called as she sprinted by my door.
She stopped and put a hand to her heart, propping herself against the far wall. “Miss Brinlee, you startled me.”
“I’m sorry. What’s going on?”
“The animals are in the kitchen—they’ve eaten everything.”
“What? What do you mean the animals are in the kitchen?”
“The chickens, the pigs—all of them—are in the kitchen eating the food for the dinner this afternoon.” She started again for Lady Catherine’s bedroom, where the screaming was coming from.
“I don’t understand. Why are the animals in the kitchen?”
Over her shoulder, Amanda said, “The kitchen door was left open last night.”
Realization hit me like a cold, hard snowball in the face. It was me—I was the one who left the kitchen door open.
I remembered unlocking the door the night before to let Fred out, but I didn’t remember locking it after he came in again. I was too preoccupied with finding a way to open the magic door.
A wave of nausea hit me as I began to panic. Lady Catherine would probably kick me out of Sherwood Manor for this mistake. Where will I go? What will I do?
I twisted a strand of my hair between my fingers. I needed to explain to her what had happened. Somehow, I had to fix this.
Amanda exited Lady Catherine’s bedroom and ran past me.
“What did she say?” I asked.
“She says everyone needs to meet in the kitchen right away.”
My heart sank to my stomach.
“Katie will help you get dressed, Miss Brinlee,” Amanda said, then hurried down the hallway.
I forced myself to speak. “Thanks.”
Slowly, I stepped into my bedroom and shut the door. With my hands on my forehead, I slumped to the ground. I’m doomed!
Soon, Katie came into the room. Seeing me on the floor, she asked, “Are you all right, Miss Brinlee?”
“No.” No, I’m not all right. I’m far from being all right.
“What is the matter, Miss Brinlee?” She sat on the floor next to me.
I turned my head to face her. “Katie, I was the one who left the kitchen door open. I let Fred out to go to the bathroom last night and forgot to close the door when he came back in.”
Tears loomed behind my eyes as I waited for her reply, but she just sat there. “Say something,” I said finally.
Katie took my hand. “It’s going to be all right, Miss Brinlee.”
“How is it going to be all right?”
“Trust me—it’s going to be all right.”
“Lady Catherine will kick me out. She didn’t want me here in the first place, and now she has reason to kick me out.”
“Do you trust me?” Katie asked.
“Of course I trust you,” I said without hesitation.
“Then believe me when I say that everything will be all right.”
I wasn’t sure how trusting her would make everything all right, but so far Katie had proven herself dependable and honorable. “Okay,” I said.
She helped me stand. “We must hurry and get you dressed because I also need to help Miss Fanny and Miss Rose.”
“I’m sorry, Katie. You don’t need to help me.”
“Do you think you can tie your corset laces by yourself?”
Cursed corset! “Nope, haven’t learned that trick yet.”
“Then help me by being quiet so I can get you dressed as fast as possible,” she said with a smile.
“Deal.”
Without another word, she finished dressing me and quickly brushed my hair. Then she left to help the stepsisters.
Alone, I pondered my fate. In the worst-case scenario, Lady Catherine would send me to jail to serve time for the lost food and supplies. In the best-case scenario, she would hire the animals to serve in the kitchen. Maybe Fenmore Falls had magical, talking pigs and chickens like the mice in Disney’s movie version of Cinderella. I’d like a couple of animal friends named Jaq and Gus.
Stranger things have happened, right?
After a few deep, cleansing breaths, I finally made my way to the kitchen. When I walked into the room, my best-case scenario—the one with helpful, talking animals—was blown to smithereens. It looked like a tornado had gone through the room. Food was splattered everywhere. Amanda was picking up food and broken pieces of bowls that had been strewn across the floor. All of the food preparation from the night before had been for nothing. In addition, the smell in the small room was bad . . . animal-poop bad.
“Look at this mess!” Miss Brenda sat in her chair, obviously in a daze. “Milady will have my head for this!”
Amanda spoke out from her spot on the floor. “She will not have your head, Miss Brenda. She will understand that it was a mistake.”
“I will be held accountable for this disaster,” Miss Brenda complained.
Katie entered the door behind me and announced, “Lady Catherine, Miss Fanny, and Miss Rose are coming.”
Miss Brenda stood from her chair and straightened her apron. “I have given thirty long years of service to this house. She can’t fire me.”
With her usual arrogance, Lady Catherine entered the room and glared at the mes
s. “How did this happen?”
“I am sorry, Milady,” Miss Brenda said. “The animals must have forced the loose door open.”
Lady Catherine walked over to the door and pushed it open and closed. “It does not appear to be loose. I believe someone left the door open.”
Unable to ignore the guilt gnawing at me, I took a nervous step forward, ready to admit my mistake. My suicide attempt was stopped when Katie touched my shoulder and pulled me back.
“It was me, milady,” she said. “I left the door open.”
No!
I stared at my friend and shook my head. She tenderly squeezed my hand. As I looked into her pleading eyes, I sensed the value of her sacrifice. This is what she’d meant when she’d asked me to trust her. This was her plan all along. I hope she knows what she’s doing!
“Katie, you left the door open?” Lady Catherine asked with bewilderment.
Seeming to gather her courage, Katie stood a little straighter. “Yes, milady, I must have forgotten to lock the door after I let the dog outside last night.”
Lady Catherine walked toward her. “Why did you not say a word of this before?”
“I’m sorry, milady.”
Lady Catherine stood glowering at Katie. “That dog has caused more problems than it is worth. I have the common sense to get rid of it.”
I felt even sicker now. Everyone, including Fred, would be punished for my stupidity. It seemed everything I did in this world was wrong. In my old world back home, all I ever did was dream about the loveliness of this world, but now I was messing everything up—and hurting good people.
I want to go home, I silently begged, looking at the magic door.
“Katie, I’m disappointed in you,” Lady Catherine said. “As a result of your mistake, the entire staff will pay for the food out of their wages.”
I'm Not Cinderella (The Princess Chronicles) Page 8
