The Fairy Stepmother Inc.

by Maggie Hoyt

  “The prince is so in love, he goes all over the kingdom and tries it on every girl, but it only fits the princess,” Delia said. Reason #5: irrational methods of identification.

  “Hm,” I said out loud. That is a stupid story, I said in my head.

  “It’s so sweet,” Maribelle said.

  “What happens to the stepsister?”

  “I think she usually cuts off her toes. To make the slipper fit,” Delia said.

  That sounded like Fan.

  “I think I heard one version where the stepmother and stepsister had their eyes pecked out by birds,” Cora said. I tried hard not to roll my eyes.

  “No, it doesn’t have to be so gruesome,” Maribelle said. “I mean, the princess is always so nice! I think she just forgives them and they all live in the palace happily ever after.”

  “Well, the girls are convinced they’re going to marry princes. I may be evil, but I still don’t have the heart to tell them we don’t have any.”

  “Yes, we do! Prince Aiden!” Delia said.

  “And he’s what, fifteen?” I said.

  “Well, someone’s been out of the loop,” Cora said.

  “He’s twenty-one!” Maribelle giggled.

  “I hear he’s a perfect gentleman,” Delia said.

  “And he’s incredibly good-looking,” Maribelle whispered.

  “Why do you think we’re out here?” Cora said.

  I looked around, uncomprehending.

  “He comes here to hunt,” Maribelle said. “All our husbands go out with him. He doesn’t have a retinue, but if we sit right here, we can catch a glimpse of him.”

  “He’s in Strachey all the time now,” Delia said.

  “Rumor has it, the king’s mind is all mush, and the queen does most of the ruling. Everyone suspects Aiden’s trying to shore up support for his own rule,” added Cora.

  “We support him!” Maribelle said dreamily. “My husband organizes all his hunting trips. That’s how we know where to come.”

  I was struggling to think of a response that wasn’t dripping with disdain when we heard a small commotion in the trees.

  “Here he comes!” Delia exclaimed.

  Sure enough, a little way in, the prince and company came into view. He seemed so young, especially next to the other gentlemen. Sure, he had a royal bearing and a kingly smile, but he was still thin and gangly, with a mop of brown hair.

  We all watched for a little while. The other men preened and boasted. The prince laughed good-naturedly at their jokes but never really joined in. He wasn’t impolite, just bored, I thought, with posturing noblemen attempting to impress him. After a few minutes, the prince went off by himself, and my friends turned their attention back to the luncheon with wistful sighs. Even I stared after him. He seemed so … sweet. I started to think.

  “So he’s here to make connections?” I said.

  “Also I think he really likes our trees,” Maribelle said. I raised an eyebrow.

  “He’s probably got to make sure we’re all coming to his party!” Delia said. “It’s in a few weeks. I think he’s looking for a wife! Didn’t you get invitations?”

  I opened my mouth to say something nasty, but I thought better of it. “No,” I simply said. Of course I didn’t get invitations! I hadn’t been to a function since Henry died. My ever-popular friends had ignored me for a month. I had holes in the roof the size of my head.

  “I hear it’s very exclusive. You have to be extremely well connected to get in,” Cora said.

  I set down my teacup. It was time to leave before I throttled one of them.

  “Well, I should check on my daughters. Find something wicked to do to Ella.”

  They said goodbye and pretended it was nice to see me. I hurried out of earshot before I could hear what they said about me.

  I wasn’t ready to go home yet, so I walked for a while. I found myself at the lake. I bit my lip as I sat in the grass, slipped my shoes off, and dug my toes into the dirt.

  Fanchon turns eighteen in two months, I thought. She’ll inherit her father’s fortune, and Ella and I … we’ll be homeless. No reason to sugarcoat it. Even if Fanchon didn’t kick us out, the house would be uninhabitable before long. We’d really, truly have nothing, and I knew what would happen to Ella on the streets. I’d have absolutely no way to protect her. And of course, Fanchon would join us in a few years after her father’s business sharks took everything away from her. I chucked a stone into the lake.

  What could I do with them? They wanted marriage, so shouldn’t I give it to them? It had to be better than destitution. They’d be happy, I guess.

  Happy like whom? Happy like Cora, who spends entire luncheons castigating her husband for flirting with barmaids and drinking too much? Happy like Delia, who might go a whole year putting up a pretense of wealth because her husband hadn’t yet recouped his losses at the gambling table? Happy like Maribelle, who calls herself stupid whenever anyone disagrees with her and only really gets her husband’s attention when she bursts into tears? She’d looked just like Ella, adding row after row to that massive blanket. No wonder everyone wanted to marry a prince.

  Maybe I thought the stories were stupid because they never happened. Was it really too much to ask to be loved, respected, and financially solvent? Which one were you willing to give up? Which one was I willing to let the girls give up?

  And even if you did manage to hit all three—love, respect, and a steady income—there was no guarantee he’d stay alive. I looked out at the geese waddling in the grass. Then I looked at the lake, I looked up at the clouds, and I felt a giant sob catch in my throat, so I buried my face in my arms.

  I took a ragged breath. The prince. Why waste time with minor nobility? The more I thought about him, the more I felt certain he’d fall hopelessly in love with Ella. All she had to do was show up. Of course, even that would take some initiative on her part. I remembered Lord Whitcomb’s party. Life wasn’t going to happen if she waited for it to come to her. Even if I pushed her, she’d just sit around and wait for that stupid fairy godmother. I bit my lip. What did the godmother use? A magic dress, magic shoes, and a magic carriage.

  I stood up and exhaled. I’d tried everything, and I’d tried to do it all myself. I’d even thought I could get them married on my own, but I was being foolish. Ella needed my help, but it was her story. I pursed my lips. Men were such a risk, but the prince … he’d never let his mother-in-law go homeless. And more importantly, he reminded me of her father. Fanchon might have my eyes pecked out, but Ella—Ella would forgive us all.

  “Evelyn,” I said, “this story is no longer about you.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE FIRST STEP was a trip to the city. I’d show Cora well connected.

  The capital city of our fine nation was named Trull, but everyone just called it the Capital. It was everything one would expect of such a large city. Any major street was congested with carriages, which didn’t go nearly fast enough because of the pedestrians drifting down the center of the road. You couldn’t go a block without being accosted by either a beggar or a hawker, where you would either lose a copper or gain a flyer to the newest opera or freak show. Sanitation and waste removal were what you’d call emerging fields, so the scent was often pungent, particularly in the poorer districts where the wealthy dumped their refuse.

  Like any good city, the Capital was characterized by dichotomy. In the Fens, on the one hand, clean water was such a luxury that consumption was rampant. In the Pendolyn District, on the other hand, two-story houses glittered with fresh paint, vividly green manicured lawns, and a much lower risk of fire. I grew up somewhere in between, surrounded by stories of the little chimney sweep who’d suffocated in a chimney and the nobleman’s daughter who ate dainty chocolate cakes for dinner. Small wonder I’d never had much time for fairies.

  Husband #1 and I had just worked our way into Pendolyn when Fan was born. But we were new money and small fish, and before long he decided he’d be a bigger de
al in Strachey. All our friends expressed envy—how lucky we were to move to the countryside. I have never met a resident of the Capital who didn’t say they hated it. I knew I would miss the city. I’d miss the not knowing, the never-ending supply of new around the corners. Strachey was too knowable.

  Of course, Husband #1 had maintained his connections after the move. He’d visited the Capital frequently, and I have a vise-like memory for names. After a few hours of research, I knew who had invitations; I searched my memory and went down the list, circling all the men who’d adored my husband and crossing out all the ones whose wives he’d seduced. Then I chose my mark.

  “Lord Busbee!” I exclaimed. I’d crashed his weekend fete and had to circulate for an hour before I’d finally found him.

  “Ma’am, I don’t think I—”

  “Oh, you probably wouldn’t recognize me, but you knew my husband, I think—Bertram Envers. May he rest in peace.”

  “Oh! My goodness! Yes, of course I knew your husband! A paragon, madam, a true loss.”

  “You’re very kind, sir. My husband always spoke so highly of you. He so valued your thoughtful advice—said you were one of the few geniuses of this generation of businessmen. Anyway, when I saw you standing here, I just had to come tell you how much you meant to Bertram.”

  He puffed like a robin swelling his chest. “Well, thank you very much, madam. Have you moved back to the city?”

  “Oh no. We’re still living in the country, my daughter and I. I’m just visiting. Don’t you have a daughter as well, my lord? I think I remember …”

  “Why, yes! You have an impressive memory!”

  “Oh, well … how is she?”

  “She’s quite the charming young lady, if I do say so myself!” He chuckled. “She and her mother are quite mad about the ball, although I suspect you and your daughter understand that quite well!”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I said, doing my best to sound sincere instead of sarcastic, or possibly sinister.

  “Haven’t you received an invitation?” He gasped, socially horrified.

  “No! We are completely out of the loop. Invitations for what?”

  “Why, the prince is giving a ball!”

  “Really? Oh! How disappointing! My daughter would have so enjoyed it. There must have been some mistake. I mean, I certainly don’t need one, but surely the daughter of Bertram Envers …”

  “Indubitably a mistake! How horrifying! Fortunately, I happen to be one of the few individuals with blank invitations at my discretion.”

  “What a coincidence,” I murmured.

  “Give me but a moment.” He left and returned with two elaborately decorated pieces of paper and a quill pen. “Now, what is your daughter’s name?”

  “Fanchon. She’ll be eighteen in a few months. It’s hard to believe.”

  “They grow up so quickly.”

  I watched as he inscribed F. Envers with a flourish.

  “Now, we must send you with her, madam—”

  “Of course, I had to remarry. It’s Radcliffe now. E. Radcliffe.”

  “There you are!” Fanchon said when I returned. “Where were you again?”

  “The Capital. Did you know Prince Aiden is giving a ball?”

  “What?” Fan shouted. Ella’s eyes lit up.

  “You have to have invitations, of course,” I said.

  They held their breath. I held up the invitations. Fanchon screamed. I caught a glimpse of Ella’s hopeful face and slowly turned away.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Ella. I only have two. I suppose you’ll have to stay home.”

  She didn’t say anything, so I continued with my last dart.

  “Besides, you sold all of your gowns. You can’t go to a ball in rags.”

  I couldn’t bear to look at her, but I could imagine her crestfallen eyes anyway. This is how the story’s supposed to go, I tried to reassure myself. She’ll be happy as soon as she gets her prince. She’ll forgive you. I still didn’t think I could turn around, so I pretended to be busy with the papers on the table.

  “Ribbit,” I heard. A frog leapt out from a cabinet shelf at me. I yelped.

  “Don’t kill it! Don’t kill it!” Ella cried. She rushed over and scooped up the trespasser.

  “What in the—”

  “We’re being invaded,” Fan said.

  “I think it’s because things are kind of damp,” Ella said. She stood on a chair and reached up to a shallow tin pail balanced precariously in the rafters. As Ella dropped the frog in the pail, another one peeked its head up over the rim. I could only assume he shared that habitat with several brothers.

  “I’m gone two days, and the two of you start saving frogs?”

  “I said we should pluck off their arms and legs and eat them.”

  “No! We can’t kill them! They just want a home. I’m keeping them close to one of the holes so insects will just fly in and they can eat them.”

  I sighed. She was teary-eyed, and I’d already reached my wickedness quota for the day.

  “Fine. But when we get the roof fixed, they go.”

  Ella nodded. “Thank you, Stepmother.”

  “Ella!” Fan cried. “Let’s go pick out what we’re going to wear to the ball! Oh, wait! You’re not going. You’ve got nothing to wear.”

  Ella ran from the room, fighting back tears.

  “We can’t afford something new, Fan. It cost me enough to get the invitations.”

  “I guess I can make do. Really, I get to go? And Ella doesn’t? It’s just about me?”

  I smiled weakly.

  “I love you, Mom. You are the best.”

  She ran up the stairs. I sat down, took a shaky breath, and wondered what a good mother would have done differently.

  Getting a ball gown for Ella was a problem. We’d made quite a dent in the money Henry left us—my allowance from Fanchon’s estate made up more and more of our monthly income. She and Fanchon wore the same size, but Fan would know immediately if she spotted Ella in one of her gowns. I was a good head taller than Ella, and the idea that I might hem anything was laughable. This left me, really, with only one option.

  I found Maribelle near the woods, eyes fixated on the spot where the prince and his hangers-on would appear while her hands continued to knit her blanket. She wasn’t completely alone; her children screamed in their matching outfits and eluded their nannies.

  “Evelyn! What a surprise!”

  “Hello, Maribelle. Waiting for the prince?”

  She nodded. “Have you ever heard him speak? He’s so genuine. He’s humble. You wouldn’t think he’s royalty. I mean, you would, because he carries himself like a prince, but he doesn’t act it—superior, you know?”

  “He doesn’t show it, at least. We don’t know what he’s like in private.”

  “You’re so cynical, Evelyn. I think he’s wonderful. What are you doing out here? We don’t usually see you wandering about.”

  I sighed. “Maribelle, I need a favor. An enormous favor. I’m embarrassed to have to ask.”

  “Oh, Evelyn, don’t be! We’re all here for each other!”

  That was debatable. I doubted Maribelle ever meant much malice, but that wouldn’t stop every word I said from being repeated to Cora and Delia. Oh well.

  “No, it’s too much. Forget I said anything,” I added, the magic words to ensure her cooperation.

  “Evelyn!” Maribelle put her hand on mine. I tried not to flinch. “I know things have been hard recently. If you’re in trouble, I’d hate to think I didn’t do something!” She started to tear up.

  I sighed. I was actually asking a huge favor—and it was truly a mark of how desperate I was that I was even going through with it. “I managed to get invitations to the ball through a connection of my first husband. Fan’s over the moon about it, but she hasn’t been able to buy anything new in months. I just don’t want her to be embarrassed to meet the prince!”

  Maribelle was about to gasp and gush her sympathies
when we heard voices in the trees. Her attention snapped eagerly toward the commotion. I considered the time. He certainly kept to a schedule.

  They’d caught something, apparently. Maribelle frowned and attempted to tell her nannies to cover the children’s eyes. While servants took the carcass away, the noblemen congratulated one another and chatted. Then once again, the prince excused himself and wandered out of sight.

  “Where’s he going?” I asked.

  “Oh, he always does this. He always goes off that way by himself. Wants some time alone, I guess. I don’t know what’s down that way, though.”

  I pictured the countryside. The river, I thought. Henry loved to take me there.

  As Prince Aiden’s comrades traveled back out of sight, Maribelle let out a sigh. I gave her a moment.

  “So … I’m sure I can’t afford the proper fabric… If I gave you some of my dresses, could you use them to make something for Fanchon? Even if you just take them up.” If it fit Fanchon, it would fit Ella. All the fairy godmother would have to do is leave it somewhere.

  “What? Oh, of course, Evelyn! I’m happy to help!”

  “Thank you so much, Maribelle. As soon as I have the money I’ll pay you for your time.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

  “I certainly do.” Otherwise, I’d owe her a favor, and I really didn’t want to find out what she’d call in.

  “You’re so sweet, Evelyn,” she said as I stood up. “You take care!”

  I thought I’d feel more embarrassed as I walked away. Past Evelyn could hardly have stomached groveling to Maribelle. But now? Present Evelyn could almost taste a royal wedding.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “FANCHON! We’re going to be late!”

  “No one goes to these things on time, Mom.” She came flouncing down the stairs in a whirl of red-orange silks that hugged her figure a little more than I would have liked, but only because I still wanted her to be four.

  “You look beautiful, Fan,” I said. “Your—”

  “I know, right?” She turned away from me and walked into the sitting room. She took her matching purse from the console and inspected its contents.