I had decided after my father died that I wanted to be an independent woman. Never to marry. I took my father’s final wishes to heart: I would keep his name. And there was no man worth his salt who would agree to take on his wife’s name, unless of course she was the Queen of England, and though my family may have been grand and royally connected, I wasn’t the Queen. But I thought I might like to emulate one. I thought of Queen Elizabeth I and how she never married. And look what she accomplished! I always felt I was destined for greatness. And look at me now. More fabulous than ever. Like a queen.
I imagined a happy unmarried life in that house with Anita. She likely wouldn’t marry, either, given her prospects. I imagined she would be my companion, and we would travel the world together, stopping back at Belgrave Place to briefly refresh ourselves before taking off on our next adventure. I imagined us in places like Egypt, Paris, and Istanbul, wearing the local fashions, trying exotic foods, and sending postcards back home with lurid descriptions of our exploits.
I was excited to make my way to the morning room to see if Mama was there, when a woman I had never seen before broke off from the other ghosts and approached me. She was a tall, imposing woman with shocking white hair pulled into a severe bun. Her lips were perpetually pinched, as if she smelled something foul in the air. Her fingers were long and spindly and reminded me of spider’s legs. She wore all black and had a large ring of keys hanging from her belt. She looked like an austere undertaker hoarding the keys to the underworld. I didn’t like her on sight. She looked to Jackson to make the introductions.
“Welcome home,” said Jackson. “We are so happy to have you and Miss Anita home for the holidays. Please let me introduce Mrs. Web. She is our new head housekeeper.” From that moment on I would refer to her, at least in my mind, as the Spider. “Lady De Vil thought we needed a new head of household, as she is so often away,” said Jackson. I said nothing. I just looked at the Spider in amazement, wondering why on earth she was there.
“She’s not away that often,” I said, eyeing the morning room and wanting to ask Mama what this was all about.
Miss Pricket tutted at me under her breath before addressing the Spider. “Excuse us, Mrs. Web, we have had a long journey. I am sure Miss Cruella and Miss Anita are eager to refresh themselves before dinner with Lady De Vil.” She gave me a scolding look.
“Lady De Vil won’t be here for dinner. She hasn’t arrived home yet,” said the Spider. “I’m sure she will make her way back to you as soon as she can,” she added, seeming to take delight in my disappointment. Or maybe I had just imagined it. Either way, I felt my blood boiling. “In the meantime, if there is anything you need, please ring for me, Miss Cruella. Your mother has directed me to act in her place while she is away.”
I wanted to scream. How dare this woman think she could act in my mother’s place? And where was my mother? I had been so looking forward to seeing her. I hadn’t seen her the entire time I was away at school. Not once. And she rarely wrote me. Most of her news I learned from Miss Pricket, who was in constant correspondence. I had to do something to win back her favor.
“When will she be back?” I asked.
“Before Christmas, I’m sure,” said Miss Pricket. Then she added quickly, “Come, girls. Let’s get you settled in your rooms and unpacked. You’ve had a long journey.” And she escorted Anita and me upstairs to our rooms. I remember looking down on all the servants as I reached the first landing. They seemed like ghosts to me, disappearing through the door under the stairs, but the most disturbing sight was Mrs. Web skittering behind them like a spider made of smoke and sulfur. I didn’t like her one bit.
My room was exactly as I remembered it, and they had set Anita up in the rose room right across the hall from mine, the room I had come to think of as hers. “Miss Anita, your bags are in your usual room across the hall if you’d like to get settled,” Miss Pricket said briskly. “I will be there in a few moments to help you unpack after I’ve helped Miss Cruella.”
Anita smiled. “Thank you, Miss Pricket,” she said, going off to the rose room.
“Miss Pricket, how would you feel about being my lady’s maid? Of course, I would have to speak with Mama when she gets home, but I wanted to hear what you might think before I do.” I was so hoping Miss Pricket would agree. She had been with me since I was quite young, and even though I found myself annoyed with her at times, I couldn’t imagine a life without her. It made sense to me to ask her to be my lady’s maid; it was a natural transition. Who else would I trust but my old governess for such an intimate position?
“Well, Miss Cruella, your mother did mention that you are too old for a governess, and asked if I would like to stay on as a lady’s maid and companion,” she said, smiling. “I was so hoping the news would please you.”
“Oh yes, of course it does. I am so happy the idea agrees with you. Though I don’t think I could bring myself to call you just Pricket … I have been calling you Miss Pricket for so long.”
Miss Pricket laughed. “You may call me whatever you wish, Miss Cruella,” she said, smiling at me.
“Speaking of new positions in the household, I was curious what you could tell me about Mrs. Web. Is she settling in?” I asked.
“Oh, she’s settling in well enough.” Miss Pricket was being her usual discreet self. She would never say a bad word about anyone. Well, that wouldn’t do. If Miss Pricket was going to be my lady’s maid, then she was going to have to act like one. And that meant giving me all the gossip from downstairs. So I prodded her a little, making it clear I didn’t care for the woman, hoping Miss Pricket would open up to me.
“I just don’t see why we need her. We were doing perfectly fine before. I wonder if Jackson and Mrs. Baddeley resent her presence. I know I do, the odious spider that she is.”
“Oh, Miss Cruella. Don’t speak about her like that.” Miss Pricket wasn’t taking the bait. I walked over to my vanity, sat down, and put on my jade earrings while I watched the woman who had cared for me my entire life unpack my trunks. I felt a tingling thrill at putting on the earrings. I felt more like a powerful lady when I wore them. And I realized in that moment my relationship with Miss Pricket had shifted. I was no longer her charge, but she still acted as though I was. It was an adjustment to be made in small steps, and I was about to take the first step. “Miss Pricket, if you’re going to be my lady’s maid then I expect to hear all the gossip. Mama tells me she hears about everything that goes on downstairs from Mrs. Smart, her lady’s maid.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Miss Cruella.” She pulled a freshly pressed dress from my closet. “This will be lovely for dinner tonight,” she said, trying to change the subject.
“Come on, Miss Pricket. Spill the beans! I insist,” I said, laughing and hoping to entice her.
“Well …” She looked to the doorway to make sure no one was in the hallway listening. “To hear Mrs. Baddeley tell it, Mrs. Web appeared at the servants’ entrance like magic, in an ominous puff of black smoke, with her bags in hand and a note from your mother explaining her new position. Your mother had arranged it all without a word to Jackson. Not even a note ahead of time to warn him of her arrival. Jackson was horrified they hadn’t arranged a room before her arrival.”
“Jackson may have many talents, but as far as I know fortune-telling isn’t one of them,” I said, making Miss Pricket laugh.
“Well, he was stoic as ever. You know Jackson.” It was fun talking with Miss Pricket like this. I felt older, more mature, and she was talking to me like an adult rather than scolding me for this or that like a child. It was fun laughing with her. I hadn’t realized she was such a funny woman.
“You seem to have been spending more time downstairs,” I said.
“When your mother suggested I become your companion I thought it would be best to get to know them.” And I thought that was a capital idea.
“Good,” I said. “Gain their trust. I want to know everything that goes on down there.”
“You’re sounding more like your mother with every moment.” She looked at my reflection in the vanity mirror, a line forming between her brows for just a moment. Then the look passed.
“Thank you, Miss Pricket,” I said. “Now tell me more.”
“Well, Mrs. Baddeley was in a right state when Mrs. Web arrived. Crying her eyes out because a strange woman would be supervising her larders and going through her receipts. Just this afternoon I walked in on them in the kitchen. I heard Mrs. Baddeley screaming at the woman, ‘You keep out of my third shelf down!’”
That made me laugh. “What’s in her ‘third shelf down’? Surely she wasn’t referring to what I’m imagining,” I said, making Miss Pricket laugh again.
“You’re cheeky as ever, Miss Cruella. I think that’s where she keeps her receipts,” she said, laughing.
“Well, we can’t have Mrs. Baddeley in tears, can we?” I said as Anita came into the room.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said in her customary shy way.
“Come in, Anita!” I said. “You won’t believe the gossip. Miss Pricket here was telling me the Spider already has Cook in tears.”
Anita blinked a couple of times. “Cook? Since when do you call Mrs. Baddeley ‘Cook’?”
I didn’t know. I think that might have been the first time.
“Well, she is our cook, isn’t she? And that’s what Mama calls her.”
Anita clearly disapproved. “Well, I’ve never heard you call her that. I bet Arabella Slaptton calls her cook by her title rather than her name.”
I thought maybe Anita was right. She usually was. But I was so eager to make Mama happy with me again. She always wanted me to be more grown-up, like a lady. Maybe this was how I could please her. Maybe if I acted like her she would like spending time with me. Maybe she would stay this time.
“Well, perhaps Arabella is on to something,” I said in an offhand way, eager to change the subject.
“Who in blazes is the Spider, anyway?” Anita asked. Poor Anita. She was very smart, but sometimes she really did have trouble keeping up.
I laughed. “Oh, what’s her name, Mrs. Web. The head housekeeper. The stodgy, skulking creature we met in the hall. Looks like a spider. You remember.”
Anita laughed. “Yes, I suppose she does look like a spider,” she said. “Shame on her for making Mrs. Baddeley cry.”
“Yes,” I said, laughing even harder. “I suppose Mrs. Baddeley won’t be making her jellies anytime soon!” Anita and I burst into giggles all over again. Miss Pricket put a hand to her mouth.
“Come on, girls. Let’s stop talking about poor Mrs. Baddeley. And stop calling Mrs. Web the Spider. It isn’t very nice.” I took a deep breath. It was time to take another step forward in my new relationship with Miss Pricket.
“Miss Pricket, I think I will call Mrs. Web whatever I please.” Miss Pricket looked surprised, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. Then I remembered something. “Oh! Anita, I almost forgot! I have the most splendid idea for an adventure during our holiday. If Mama agrees, I think we should take a trip together. Miss Pricket can chaperone, can’t you, Miss Pricket? And really, it would just be for show. You don’t have to accompany Anita and me on all our excursions.”
“Yes, Miss Cruella. I’d be happy to,” she said, looking a little sad.
“Miss Pricket, we are going through an adjustment, aren’t we? It will take a little time, don’t worry. Eventually we will both find our proper places, and you will think of me as your superior rather than your charge. Though I don’t think we need to be too stuffy about it, do you? Since we are almost friends, you and I.” Her face fell even more. I realized then that Miss Pricket had thought of me as a friend. Or perhaps something more.
“Oh, Cruella,” said Anita, but she stopped at that. I didn’t need Anita to tell me I had hurt Miss Pricket’s feelings. Well, it had to be done. I couldn’t have a lady’s maid who treated me like a child.
“Come on,” I said, changing the subject. “Let’s finish getting ready. Jackson is going to ring the gong for dinner any moment now.” But they didn’t move. “What?” I said. “Why are you looking at me like I killed a puppy?”
Christmastime was always my favorite time of year. It did something to me. It made me softer. More kindhearted. Not an affliction I fall prey to lately. But back then I loved the days leading up to Christmas almost as much as I loved the day itself.
Mama and Papa always made sure the servants made a big fuss over the winter holiday. I always looked forward to the day the tree and holiday hampers would arrive, and so did our servants. The banisters and mantels were covered with garland and every vase was filled with holiday flowers. To the left of the grand staircase, in the nook near the door leading to the morning room, was our enormous Christmas tree. It reached all the way up to the next landing. The servants always decorated it beautifully. It would be covered in delicate ornaments my family had been collecting for generations, along with tiny flickering candles, their light dancing and reflecting off the shining baubles.
Miss Pricket had invited Anita and me to help with the decorating that year. In the past I would have been eager to place the star at the top of the tree, but now I planned to take my mama’s place until she was scheduled to arrive later that evening. I was determined to do all the things Mama would have done if she were there. I wanted her to come home and see I had arranged for everything perfectly. I wanted to please her. And I wanted her to see we didn’t need her damnable Mrs. Web. Besides, Mama never helped the servants with decorating. She would sit in the morning room until the decorating was complete, then come out to say how lovely it was once the servants were finished. So that is what I was doing. I was wearing a lovely red dress and my jade earrings. I certainly looked the part of lady of the house.
So I let Anita do the honors, and she seemed to be having a grand time of it. I could hear her happy voice while I was in the morning room, and I almost wished I was out there with them when the hampers arrived. There was always so much excitement over the Christmas hampers before they were sent downstairs to the dungeon so Mrs. Baddeley could do her magic. Later I would hear braces of pheasants, a goose, and numerous other delights were delivered for our holiday meals. Even the servants would take a break from their usual fare of meat pies and stews to have a holiday feast of their own.
My mother had sent along gifts for our servants and a note asking that I wrap them. She would be home in time to present them all with their Christmas gifts, as was our yearly tradition. She had gotten some yards of cloth for the maids so they could make themselves new dresses, new spats for the footmen and driver, a fine broach for Miss Pricket, a new pocket watch for Jackson, and a pendant watch for Mrs. Web. She had also sent little candied fruits and an assortment of chocolates, and had told Jackson to open some of the bottles from the cellars for their Christmas Day dinner. My mother was always generous with the servants during Christmas, and she always remarked that I should do the same when I had a household of my own one day. “A servant will forgive almost anything if you are generous during the holidays,” she would say.
I let Anita amuse herself with helping the servants with the decorations while I prepared the gifts. And I took the opportunity to wrap Anita’s gifts while she was busy with Miss Pricket, fussing over the tree. The house was abuzz with the sounds of laughter, music, and merrymaking, and I was becoming more excited than ever to see my mama.
“Cruella, it’s time to dress for dinner.” It was Miss Pricket, poking her head into the morning room, where I had been all day wrapping gifts. I’d had no idea it had gotten so late.
“Time to dress for dinner? Has Mama arrived?” I felt my heart flutter with excitement. “Ow—blast it!” I fiddled with my earring, because it was pinching something awful.
“Here, let me help you with that,” Miss Pricket said, gently loosening the clasp. I immediately felt relief.
“Thank you, Miss Pricket. It’s been bothering me all day.” Miss Pricket gave
me a sad, familiar look. I had seen that look so many times. It always meant the same thing.
“She isn’t coming, is she?”
“I’m so sorry, but your mother won’t be here for dinner. Cruella, dear, now that you’re older I feel as if I can speak to you like a sister or friend might. It breaks my heart to see her treat you so deplorably.”
I reeled in shock.
“What’s that, Miss Pricket? What did you say?” I thought I hadn’t heard her correctly. Surely she hadn’t just spoken out against my mama.
“I’m sorry, Miss Cruella, but I know you’re heart-broken. I can see it on your face. I’ve watched her break your heart almost every day since you were a little girl, and she’s breaking it still.”
“You know nothing of my heart, Miss Pricket. My mama loves me. How dare you insinuate otherwise.” Looking back, I don’t understand why I tried to defend my mama to her. I knew how my mama felt about me; I didn’t need to convince an in-between that my mother loved me.
“She hasn’t written or seen you since right after your father died. Not since she sent you away to school. That is no way to treat a daughter.”
“She sends me gifts,” I said, still in shock to hear Miss Pricket speaking with such candid impertinence.
“She’s always given you gifts, Miss Cruella. That is all she has ever given you. It’s all she will ever give you, the heartless, cruel, and horrible woman she is. Beautiful gifts, and nothing of herself.”
Evil Thing Page 7
