“Sir Huntley thinks he may have been struggling for a long time, losing money steadily to his partners. Of course he didn’t tell me a thing about it. You know Jack, always putting on a happy facade. Always wanting to make me happy.”
Mama was in shock. “But what of his family money? Surely they couldn’t seize that?” she said.
“I … I signed something,” I stammered. “Before the wedding. A prenuptial agreement. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I thought Jack and I would be together forever. But now he’s gone and his family’s money is protected from even me.”
“This is scandalous, Cruella! Where will you go? What will you do to support yourself? I don’t understand how this could have happened?” She was hysterical and it wasn’t helping.
“I think it’s my fault, Mama. Maybe if I hadn’t hidden away after Jack died I could have fought it all, but Sir Huntley said there was nothing I could have done.”
“Well, Cruella, then he is right. If he says there was nothing you could have done then there is no sense in thinking otherwise. I would just like to know how you’re expected to live? I can’t believe Jack would leave you penniless!” She stood abruptly from the love seat and walked over to the fireplace.
“Well, it seems Papa left me De Vil Hall in the event something like this should happen. Something like insurance in the event of disaster.”
“Well then, you’re taken care of. Brilliant. I don’t have to worry about you.” She looked lovingly at a photo of my papa on the mantel.
“Mama, the income from the tenants and farmers is barely enough for the upkeep on the house and lands, let alone enough to live on. I thought perhaps I could travel with you. Or you would reconsider and let me live here. Is it too late to say you want to keep the house?”
“Listen, my dear, I think the country air will do you some good. Some time away from the city. You have to reclaim yourself, Cruella. Create a new life. Just as I did when your father died.”
“But how? How will I do that?”
“Cruella, you’re a strong, resourceful young woman. You’re just like me. Your father always said so, anyway. Look at me. I lost my husband and my fortune, and now I have it back! You can do the same! Distinguish yourself, my girl. And what better way to do it than with a completely clean slate? And in a new home, De Vil Hall. Oh, that will be so lovely for you, my Cruella.”
I had vague memories of De Vil Hall from when I was younger. We didn’t spend much time there because it was too rustic for Mama. Surrounded by a little village, with farms. Nothing but rolling hills as far as the eye could see. It was hours and hours out of London. So far from my friends, and the life I had built for myself with Jack.
I felt as if I was being exiled, hidden away so my mother wouldn’t be embarrassed by her penniless daughter. Hidden away because I had been withered and aged by my grief. What better place to send me than the old De Vil estate in the country? A place that would later be known as Hell Hall.
Even though De Vil Hall was grander than I remembered, it was a lonely place. It was a place out of another time, with its velvet couches, ornate wooden furniture, and gold-framed oil paintings of my father’s long-dead relatives peering at me. It was a dead place. A place to die. And that’s what I intended to do. I spent my days and nights missing my Jack, missing my parents, and missing my old life. I languished there, too heartbroken to eat. Too heartbroken to do anything other than cry. I cried and screamed into the night so often that De Vil Hall became known as Hell Hall in the neighboring village. I decided to embrace it.
I couldn’t find my way out of the darkness or see a light at the end of my wretched misery. I cried until I was too exhausted to cry anymore. I’d fall asleep and dream of the days when I had been truly happy, walking in the woods on Miss Upturn’s grounds with Anita—only to wake up in this dark place with its peeling wallpaper and groaning floors. I was so angry with my mother for abandoning me to this. I grew angry with Jack for not providing for me after his death. I was upset with myself for not listening to my father’s warnings about my mother, and angry with him for not doing enough to protect me from her. I was alone. And it was all my fault. I had pushed Anita away. I’d never believed her warnings. But she had been right all along. Everyone had.
I gave Mama everything that should have been mine, and she turned her back on me, leaving me to the howling winds and barking dogs of the countryside.
I kept replaying my last conversation with my mother. Wondering why I didn’t rail on her when she didn’t offer to help me. I had always been afraid to make her angry. Afraid if I spoke out she would abandon me. In the end, none of it mattered. That’s exactly what she had done anyway.
I can’t say how much time passed. How long I spent lamenting my old life. How many lonely nights I cried into the darkness with no one to hear me or comfort me. I wasn’t myself. I had tossed aside the things that reminded me of those who abandoned me. I stopped wearing my furs and my jade earrings—I even stopped wearing the jade ring Jack had given me. Seeing them brought only anger and more tears. I started to see how my life had come to ruins. How I was brought to this. I thought I saw it all so clearly, the way I had that Christmas when Anita and I were still close. Everyone in the kitchen that night had been my real family, and I had done nothing but push them away. I missed Anita and Perdita. If only I could have afforded to keep them on, I would have brought them with me.
In my desperation and loneliness I decided to call Anita. I had been in bed for days. Exhausted, weak, and alone. But I picked up the phone and called one of the few people I felt had ever truly loved me. She was surprised to hear from me. We had been writing occasionally, of course, but hadn’t spoken until that night.
“Hello, Anita darling. It’s me, Cruella.”
“Cruella? Hello. How are you?”
“I’m not well, Anita. I was wondering if you would agree to meet with me. There are so many things I would like to say to you. So many things I am sorry for, but I’d rather talk with you in person. And I would so love to see Perdita.”
“Oh, Cruella. I’m not sure if that is a good idea. Things went so wrong between us. I’m just not sure.”
“Anita, please. She is mine, after all. A gift from my father. Would you deny me just one little visit, and the opportunity to tell you how truly sorry I am for … well, everything?” There was a pause on the other end of the line, and a small sigh.
“Of course not, Cruella. Let’s meet at the Park Café. Do you know where it is?”
“I do. And you will bring Perdita along?”
“Yes, Cruella. She will be with me.”
“Thank you, Anita. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“You’re welcome. And Cruella …” She paused. “I’m happy you called. I have missed you.”
“Oh, Anita. I have missed you, too.” And then I hung up before she could hear me trying to choke back the tears. I hadn’t expected her to say that she missed me.
I was so anxious to see her that I stayed up almost all night pacing those lonely halls. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I could do nothing but regret the choices I had made. Anita was right. My father was right. And I was drowning in my bad choices. But all would be well when I saw Anita. All would be as it was before. I would have my life back. I would have my friend back.
I was so nervous that morning while getting ready to meet Anita. I had gotten myself into a tizzy trying to find the right outfit. I wanted everything to be perfect. I tried on everything in my closet, first putting it on, then flinging it on the bed or the floor, until I finally arrived at my black dress.
The black dress. You know the one. The only dress that felt right. The only dress that looked right. I had so wanted to leave my old trappings behind, to leave the old Cruella behind, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave the house without them. Quite at the last moment I decided to wear the ring Jack had had made for me, and the earrings given to me by my sweet papa. Wearing my most cherished piec
es made me feel as if I was becoming myself again. Something within me shifted—especially when I put on my earrings. I felt a tingling sensation. A feeling that intensified as I made my way back to London.
The one thing I left behind was my fur coat. I couldn’t stand to see the thing. It reminded me of my mama, and I was worried it would remind Anita of my mama as well.
After a long drive I finally arrived in London and found the little café, exactly where Anita said it would be. Not that I doubted her. I was feeling so much better being back in London. I could breathe. And I felt more confident. I was filled with a vitality I hadn’t felt in a long time, and I was happy I’d made the trip. There was something about wearing that dress and my jewelry again that gave me courage. Or perhaps it was being back in London, or the prospect of seeing Anita again, or kissing Perdita’s soft black nose. I wasn’t quite sure. Whatever it was, I was happy to be there. And to be feeling like my old self again.
I parked nearby, around the corner, and made my way to the café on foot. As I rounded the corner, I saw them before they saw me. Perdita was with her, as promised. Anita was in a pretty little sundress, reading her book in the sunshine, sipping away at her coffee, and Perdita was curled up at her feet. She had turned into a beautiful dog with a long, pointed snout and delicate features. She wore a slender blue collar with a gold tag. Anita had been taking good care of her. But I’d never doubted she would. Not for a moment. I stood there for the longest time, just watching them. Envying them their happiness. Just sitting there in the sun. Anita not even looking up from her book or at her watch, curious where I might be. She was carefree and happy. I felt like a monster in comparison. Too tall, too thin, too sad, and too angry to even belong in the same world as them.
I had missed so much time with them both, and there was so much I wanted to say to Anita. So many things to apologize for. Or at least I thought so at the time.
As I approached their table, Perdita opened her eyes, and for a moment I thought she knew me. “Cruella!” Anita stood up to greet me, stepping in front of Perdita and preventing me from reaching down to say hello.
“Hello, Anita,” I said.
Anita looked down at Perdita and tried to coax her to come out from behind her to say hello. “Perdita. You remember Cruella. Say hello.” She slowly moved her head around the right side of Anita’s legs, peering out at me, but wouldn’t come over to greet me. I have to admit I was crushed. I had pinned all my hopes on this meeting with them. “I’m sorry, Cruella. She isn’t usually like this. I’m sure once she gets to know you better she will warm up to you.” Sweet Anita. Always trying to save my feelings. But I thought maybe she was right. Maybe Perdita would remember me.
“Oh, Perdita. It hurts me that you don’t remember me. You know, you were once mine,” I said. Of course the dog didn’t know what I was saying. But maybe it was more for Anita’s benefit anyway.
“Oh, Cruella. Please don’t take it that way,” she said, looking sincerely sad for me. It was that same look they all gave me. I hated that look.
I had been ready to tell Anita everything, my entire story. To tell her she was right about my mama, right about how I had treated my servants, and how very sorry I was for being angry at her for pursuing her own dreams. But something happened as I sat there. I honestly can’t tell you exactly what it was, but something shifted within me. Something sparked. It felt like a current washing over me, a much more intense version of the feeling I’d had when I put on my old trappings, a feeling that grew the closer I got to London. Now, I’m not saying London had some magical effect on me. I don’t believe in such things. But something did happen. I felt an inkling of my transformation the moment I got ready to leave Hell Hall, and it just got stronger and stronger as I made my way to London. I have a theory, but you will probably think I’m mad. I’ll let you make of it what you will. Whatever happened, however it came to be, I am thankful.
As Anita told me about her life, Perdita eyed me fearfully from under Anita’s chair. She prattled on and on about how she and Roger had met in the park, a story I already knew, but I sat there suffering as she gushed, filling in the details. “Cruella, you will simply love Roger. He’s such a talented composer,” she said, smiling at me. “I have to tell you how we met. If you can believe it, I hated him at first. His dog, Pongo, was acting up at the park, trying to get Perdita’s attention, and there was Roger chasing after him like some kind of fool, getting Pongo’s leash tangled in with Perdita’s, making us both fall into the water. It was hilarious.”
“That sounds very romantic,” I said, not meaning a word of it.
“It was. It was like out of one of our stories, Cruella. Remember how Princess Tulip was annoyed by Prince, oh, what was his name again?”
“Prince Popinjay,” I said. “I think that was his name.”
“Yes! Remember how Tulip didn’t like him at first, but after a while they fell in love? Well, it was like that. For both me and Perdita.” All of this was sickening to me. As I was sitting there listening to her story, I found myself more and more distracted by that feeling that was washing over me. “But of course, I am being insensitive. I heard about your Jack. I am so sorry, Cruella,” she said. Instead of warmth and comfort, I just felt cold. Empty.
Somehow, reconnecting with Anita was no longer important. I didn’t understand it at first, how something so important to me could suddenly evaporate. Before I got ready to leave Hell Hall I had been so full of hope for a fresh start with Anita. I had tricked myself into thinking we would easily fall back into friendship again, even sisterhood. I don’t know what possessed me. It was as if I was under the same spell that had overtaken me at Christmastime so many years before, when Anita had bewitched me into thinking my mama was a scheming, evil person. When she convinced me that my servants loved me more than my own dear mama. As I sat there listening to how wonderful Anita’s life was, I became sure I must have temporarily lost my senses when I’d decided to call her. My distaste for her intensified as I sat there listening to her prattle on and on about Roger and Pongo, hardly even acknowledging my loss or even aware that hearing her talk about that fool Roger would make me miss my Jack. And the more she talked, the more I despised her, and her stupid dog. Neither of them loved me anymore. Perdita didn’t even know me. Mama had been right about her. She was simple, common, and unworthy of my friendship.
I wanted to hurt her, like she’d hurt me. I wanted to do something to show I wasn’t someone to be pitied. I wanted to make something of my life, something spectacular, and make my mother proud of me again. It was all I could think about. I was obsessed.
Sitting there with Anita and Perdita was just wasting time. I had to come up with a plan. Some way to distinguish myself the way my mother had always wanted me to. But how? How would I do that?
“Cruella, are you okay? You seem to be lost in thought,” said Anita.
“I’m sorry, Anita, I suppose I’m just a little sad Perdita doesn’t remember me,” I said, grasping at something that sounded believable.
And then the beast growled at me.
“I’m sorry, Cruella. She’s usually very sweet. I don’t know why she’s being this way. Perhaps she’s just feeling particularly vulnerable around strangers because of her condition.”
“What?” I said. “Her condition?”
“The puppies, Cruella. She’s due quite soon, I’m afraid.”
“Perdita is having puppies?” I blinked. And then it came to me. A way to get my revenge. A way to hurt Anita and her stupid dog, Perdita. A way to distinguish myself.
I finally had a way to make my mother proud.
Nothing else mattered now.
I blame Horace and Jasper. My plan would have worked if it weren’t for them. Honestly, I suppose it’s my fault for hiring such simpleminded fools. Next time I’ll know better than to hire shifty-looking men from a back alley. What did I expect? It’s not like you can check references when hiring henchmen, now can you? It’s not as if you can call their
previous employer and ask if they did their misdeeds well. But they really did make a cock-up of everything. Well, my adoring fans know the truth. Even if the newspapers tell another story. Even if they paint me as a maniac in all the rags.
Yes, there was a car crash.
Yes, the puppies got away.
But I have another plan. A better plan. A plan that will work this time. And I will do it without those fool henchmen. I will succeed! It’s an utterly brilliant idea, and the Radcliffes, well, they’re playing right into my hands, aren’t they? Gathering those dogs together all in one place.
But we’re jumping ahead. I know what you want to hear about. Well, let me tell you my version of the story.
As I drove home after having coffee with Anita I became more livid. And as that anger grew I saw everything more clearly. I won’t lament over my muddled thinking before. I won’t question why. None of that matters. My only regret was doubting my mama. She was the most magnificent woman I have ever known. Self-possessed, beautiful, rich, and always dripping in furs. She showed me how much she loved me by giving me furs for as long as I could remember. And always with the same message. Distinguish yourself. Well, I decided I would, and I would redeem myself in her eyes—for the times I drifted away from her and doubted her. I would finally be able to show her my love the way she had shown me hers. And I would show her I was a strong, capable woman, just like her, able to survive even the greatest of heartbreak and misfortune. And if I happened to take down my enemies in the process, well, simply splendid.
And I still will! Just because those dolts ruined everything the first time around doesn’t mean a thing! I never should have trusted them with the job in the first place. I can’t believe I gave those idiots the rest of my money to buy every Dalmatian puppy in every shop, only for them to lose them along with Perdita, Pongo, and their puppies! Perdita was rightfully mine, and so were her spotted little beasts!
Evil Thing Page 16
