An Unnatural Beanstalk: A Retelling of Jack and the Beanstalk (Entwined Tales Book 2)

by Brittany Fichter

  “You can peddle your dreams somewhere else, Jack, but you don’t fool me. Your father gave up on us. And you’re no better than him. We aren’t going anywhere. At least not with you.”

  “But you’ve always wanted to leave . . .” He put his hands on his face and rubbed his eyes. “Look. I didn’t do what I set out to do, so my deal with the fairy is done.”

  She didn’t seem surprised by his mention of a fairy. The boys must have told her. Or perhaps Mortimer had visited her himself. Either way, she didn’t seem to think it necessary to mention. Instead, she donned a pinched, sour expression. “That’s a surprise.”

  “That means the food will stop. The protection will stop. So if the boys get hurt, or worse, because you won’t let them leave? What happens then?”

  She drew her legs up to her chin and glared at the little fireplace ahead of her. “I am the leader of this family. What I say goes.” She sniffed. “So if you want to continue being a part of it, I suggest you stop with all this nonsense.”

  Jack folded his arms across his chest. “Then I’ll take the boys and go.”

  “I’ll call the constable and report you for kidnapping.”

  Jack whirled around and stomped out, slamming the door behind him. As he continued out into the yard, Ray called out from the barn.

  “We’ve got the cart and horses ready to go!”

  Jack ignored his brother and continued marching on toward the pigpen.

  “Jack?” Larry shouted. “Aren’t we going?”

  “I don’t know!” Jack bellowed back. When he finally got to the pen, he climbed up on the fence and glared down at the mud below.

  Eva had been right. As much as her words stung, he was a coward. And even worse, his mother had been right, too. He was a quitter. He had gone on a quest and not only failed to bring back the girl he’d set out to save in the first place, but he was now letting his mother control him. Again.

  Well, no more. Jack was done quitting. And he was done letting his mother control his life. From now on, he was going to make his own choices. He was going back to the duke’s mansion, and he was going to bring Eva back, even if he had to drag her out kicking and screaming.

  Of course, he needed to do something with the boys first. And then he had to figure out exactly how he was going to get Eva away from the duke, particularly if it was going to be against her will.

  “She was always my favorite, you know.”

  Jack jumped at the voice behind him. When he saw who it was, however, his mood only grew dourer.

  The fairy stood behind him. Unlike the first time they’d met, however, his tiny wings were drooped, and he looked cowed, staring at the ground. As he spoke, he picked at a hole in his robe.

  “I never liked any of them much. But of all the children in the woodcutter’s family, I never resented her quite like the others.”

  Jack really wanted to tell the fairy what he could do with his likes and dislikes, but he also wanted to know more about Eva.

  “So, what was it that convinced you not to dislike her?”

  The fairy sighed as though the confession pained him. “She let me be. The other children all got curious at some point in time, and every time I showed up, they had questions. ‘Could you make me taller?’ ‘Why did you make Mummy and Daddy merchants?’ ‘How does Sophie always know what time it is?’ ‘Why did you make me beautiful? Boys aren’t supposed to be beautiful.’” Mortimer made a gagging sound. “They were all either ungrateful or greedy. Eva was the only one that let me be completely.”

  “So you cursed her with magic when she asked you not to,” Jack said, nodding. “That makes perfect sense.”

  “Look, I’ve had to endure abuse from her entire family.” He shuddered so hard his cloak quivered. “Particularly the middle brat . . . the wicked one. I don’t need it from you, too.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I want to know why you left,” Mortimer said.

  “I would tell you,” Jack crossed his arms over his chest, “but it seems I’m not allowed to talk about it. More lovely magic, I’m sure.”

  “Oh.” Mortimer fumbled with his sleeves and then slapped Jack across the face.

  “Ow! What was that for?”

  “I’m removing the spell of silence the duke placed on you.”

  “I thought you couldn’t intrude on another fairy’s magic.”

  “The problem is that I’m not supposed to interfere with my own magic once it’s been cast.”

  “Won’t?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “Or can’t?”

  “Does it really matter?”

  Jack shrugged and grinned. “No. It just proves beyond a doubt that you truly are an awful fairy.”

  Mortimer scowled. “Look! My point is that I can lift the duke’s spell of silence on you because he used purchased magic. Magic is much less potent when inside an object vessel rather than a human. And even less so when that object has been bought rather than gifted directly from a fairy. And, on top of that, you aren’t the main target of the spell. You’re sort of an afterthought. I don’t have to break the spell, just cut you off from it. It makes it a good deal easier. Here though, for good measure.” He smacked Jack across the other cheek.

  “Do you have to do it so hard?” Jack rubbed his head.

  “No,” the fairy said with a smug smile. Then he pulled the left side of his cloak open and searched it for a moment before giving up and searching on the right. Jack rolled his eyes as the fairy then pulled off a shoe and peered inside.

  Before Jack could make another sarcastic remark, however, Mortimer snapped his fingers and reached low to the bottom of his cloak. From a hidden spot Jack couldn’t see, Mortimer produced a rolled parchment tied with a string.

  “Do you want to know why she chased you away?” He held the parchment out.

  Jack took the paper, unrolled it, and began to read.

  In signing this contract, Eva, daughter of the fairy-blessed woodcutter family housed in Astoria, agrees to the following:

  First, she agrees to engage in matrimony to the duke of Monte David on the first day of this eighth month of the year as dated above. If she fails to be married by midnight of the aforementioned date, another person who shall be chosen at random will die at the stroke of midnight.

  Second, if any other being is made aware of or discovers this contract, Jack, who assumed the role of cupbearer for Eva during the summer months, shall die at the stroke of midnight as well.

  And there at the bottom of the page in neat, small handwriting was Eva’s name.

  “How did you get this?” Jack asked.

  “After Eva summoned me to yell at me, I went poking around the duke’s study.” He smirked. “Not bad, eh?”

  Jack had to read the letter three times before he was able to comprehend the whole of it. But with each reading, relief covered him like dew of the morning. So she hadn’t betrayed him. She’d been trying to save his life.

  “I should have seen this coming,” he muttered as he read the letter yet again.

  “But you didn’t. So here we are.”

  “You can’t act all high and mighty there, either.” Jack said, not looking up at the fairy. “If the duke had gotten all his wording right for the magic, I would have been dead by now.”

  “What? Let me see that?” Mortimer snatched the contract up and read it for himself. “Huh,” he said several times before looking back down at Jack. “Well isn’t that something?”

  “How are you a fairy godfather?” Jack asked, exasperated. “My death wouldn’t be a concern for your superiors?”

  “Oh, it would have been . . . in an eon or so. Whenever the fairy council decided to convene again.” Mortimer shrugged. “I was just trying to help. Wait, what are you doing?”

  Jack had turned and headed for the barn. Mortimer followed him, still clutching the parchment. Inside the barn Jack began to unharness one of the horses from the cart.

  “While I’m gone,” he said as he worked, “I ne
ed you to take my brothers to Eva’s house in Astoria. Make sure they get there safely.” He paused and glared at the fairy. “And in their human form. Not in the shape of a rodent or bird or whatever suits your fancy.”

  Mortimer spat on the ground. “I’m not your godfather. You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “I can when I’m trying to save your goddaughter. Now listen closely. After my brothers are safe, I need you to tell her family what’s happened and where we are.”

  “Or where she is, since you’ll likely be dead,” Mortimer muttered under his breath.

  Jack laughed as he mounted his horse. “You really are a terrible fairy, aren’t you?”

  Mortimer muttered something about respect and the possibility of finding spiders in one’s bed.

  “The beanstalk is still there, isn’t it?” Jack asked.

  “Yes, unfortunately.” Mortimer crossed his arms. “So you’re just running back to the home of the man who wants to kill you. What exactly do you plan to do when you get there?”

  Jack grinned. “I’m going to steal the duke’s harp.”

  17

  I Would Like to Honor Him with a Song

  “Mary,” Eva called as she walked into the kitchen, “has the duke given you a list of the dishes he’s chosen for the wedding?”

  “Yes’m,” the girl replied, tucking a stray lock of strawberry hair behind her ear. She untied her apron and hung it on a hook by the door before beckoning Eva to the little nook in the corner. On their way over, Eva had to dodge several enthusiastic little boys who had been tasked with running food to certain parts of the kitchen.

  “You certainly stay busy down here,” she remarked as Mary opened a box and began thumbing through a stack of parchments.

  “Yes,’m. Although we’re not always like this. It’s the wedding and all.” She removed the quill tucked behind her ear and used it to point at the scribblings on the parchment she’d pulled out of the stack. “Bert’s working on the meat. Darcy has the produce, and Mister Matt’s got the sweets. You’ve never lived until you’ve tried one of Mister Matt’s cherry tarts.”

  “Then that’s exactly what I shall do.” Eva smiled at the girl. “Did you find the menu?”

  “Here you go.” Mary handed her a parchment. Then she blushed a little, making the sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheeks stand out against her pale skin. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so,” she said shyly, “but the staff’s right happy you’re staying here. You . . .” Her eyes widened and she looked down. “We’re happy you’re here.”

  “What were you going to say?” Eva tried to meet the girl’s bright blue eyes once more. “You needn’t fear anything from me. I promise.”

  Mary studied her for a moment longer, though, before adding quietly, “You . . . you soften things around here. When you’re around, no one’s as worried.” She shrugged. “It’s nice.”

  “Even when I throw fits?” Eva felt guilty as she remembered the monumental tantrum she’d had the day before when the duke had tried to get her to try beet juice. Unfortunately, since Jack had arrived, her fits had worked less and less. And now that he was gone, the duke hardly listened to her at all.

  “Aw, we know those are for the master.” Mary glanced over her shoulder before leaning closer. “We’re not supposed to know why you’re here. But we do. And we understand why it’s hard for you.”

  “Tell me,” Eva tucked the menu under her arm and turned her back to the kitchen so no one else could see her face, “why did you get a job with the duke? Out here we’re far from any other residences, and he isn’t exactly a . . . soft master, as you put it.”

  Mary began restacking the other parchments she’d gone through to find the menu. “My mum’s rather sickly. And working here may not be easy, but it pays good, and we needed the coin. And now we have food better than anyone else in Guthward.” She stopped and eyed Eva once more. “You won’t tell the master?”

  Eva shook her head quickly. “Oh, no! I was just curious.” She gave Mary a wry smile. “If you hadn’t noticed, I didn’t exactly come here on my own accord.”

  After parting ways, Eva grabbed an apple from where one of the servant girls was chopping fruit for pies, then she seated herself on one of the little balcony seats just beneath the duke’s study window, placing a bottle of ink beside her. Every few moments, as she marked up the menu with a quill, she would glance up. She was prepared to wait for several hours, as the duke had been quite busy that morning, but only ten minutes had passed before he spotted her and made his way down to where she was seated.

  “What are you doing, my harp?” He eyed the parchment in her hand, and a grin slowly began to spread across his face. “Would those be wedding details you’re seeing to?”

  Eva gave a loud sigh. “I’ve been thinking, and I suppose as this wedding party really is to take place, I would benefit more if I contributed as well, just as any bride would.”

  The duke took the parchment and looked at it. He nodded slowly as he read her notes. Finally, he handed it back.

  “While I’m not partial to all these changes, I suppose the change in your attitude is worth it. Yes, my harp, you may make all the changes to the menu that you wish.” He beamed and puffed his chest out. “I’m so glad you’ve come around. I always knew you would. A good girl like you couldn’t go on fighting the inevitable forever, particularly as it benefits you so.”

  “My lord.” A few men walked up and bowed to the duke. “Might we have a word about one of the storehouses? The last storm left its roof rather weak.”

  “Of course. Well, you’ll have to excuse me, my harp.” The duke patted Eva’s cheek before heading off with the men. Eva didn’t move until he was out of sight, then she scrambled back inside. It was hard not to smile to herself as she searched for the housekeeper. The duke had seemed to believe her story. Now the real fun could begin.

  “Eva,” Mrs. McConnell came out of the laundry room, wiping her hands on a towel. “I heard you were looking for me.”

  “Yes, I wanted to go over the order of events for the ceremony and celebration.”

  Unlike Mary and the duke, however, Mrs. McConnell did not smile. Instead, she regarded Eva warily for a long moment before jerking her chin toward the closet door. “Come with me. I need to gather a few things. We can talk while I work.”

  Eva’s stomach threatened to sink, but she did as she was told. Neither of them spoke until they were in a little room filled with piles of linens and the door was not only shut, but wedged closed by Mrs. McConnell’s broom. Then Mrs. McConnell turned to Eva and folded her arms across her chest.

  “Alright, Miss Eva. I’ve only been around you for a couple of months, but I know you well enough to know that you wouldn’t readily agree to this marriage even if it killed you. Now what are you up to?”

  Eva hesitated. It was obvious that Mrs. McConnell wasn’t going to believe her story, no matter what Eva said. And though Eva had always liked the kind housekeeper, as Mrs. McConnell had been one of the few servants willing to actually speak with her or have the audacity to empathize, she wasn’t sure just how far the older woman’s allegiances aligned with anyone.

  “I need to know something.”

  “Yes?”

  “Why do you work for the duke? Before you tell me that it’s for the money, I know that’s not true.”

  Mrs. McConnell tilted her head and studied Eva. “And what would make you say that?”

  “I’ve seen the books. You make a large salary, but you spend very little of it.” Eva took a deep breath. “And yet you wait on the duke hand and foot with more attention than I’ve ever seen a servant give their master. Before I tell you my secrets, I need at least one of yours.”

  Mrs. McConnell gave a small sigh and walked over to the window. She placed her hand against the pane and traced the frame with her finger.

  “Carlton is my godson,” she said in a quiet voice.

  Eva stared at her. She had been entertaining a number of pos
sibilities, but that hadn’t been one of them.

  “You needn’t wonder at the oddity.” Mrs. McConnell gave her a knowing smile. “The arrangement is indeed odd.” She turned and grabbed a pile of linen and began folding it. “Before his parents were married, I was close friends with his mother. We worked in the same seamstress’s shop, in fact. Then, one day when we were both nineteen, the duke’s father, who was not yet the duke himself at that point, wandered in. The two fell in love at first sight, and it wasn’t long before they were married and Carlton was on the way.”

  “So that’s why the duke doesn’t struggle with my lack of station,” Eva said.

  The housekeeper nodded. “His mother had no station either. But what she and his father did have was love. Unfortunately, by the time I needed work and was hired on here as the head housekeeper, she and her husband, while desperately attached to their little boy, had failed to give him any sort of proper discipline. The older he got, the more he created his own set of rules that he expected everyone around him to understand and follow.”

  Eva shifted uncomfortably. “This didn’t bother his parents?”

  “They thought he was brilliant. They encouraged it, even. Applauded it. His mother in particular. Isn’t he a brilliant boy? they would say. Doesn’t he have the makings of a leader?”

  She shook her head and folded the linen shirt in her hands with a new ferocity. “The older he grew, the more obnoxious he became. Having several children of my own, I always found him a rather odd duck. I loved him, of course, as he was my godson, and I had watched him grow since infancy. But there was a pride about him that they failed to nip, and a strange sense of self-righteousness that I can only attribute to their heaping of constant praise. So believe me,” she met Eva’s gaze with a hard stare, “when I say that although I love the boy and always will, he is fit to be no one’s master. And if I could undo all of the damage his parents accidentally inflicted upon this land when they died early and left him the title, I would do so in a heartbeat.”