by Maggie Hoyt
“Your father would be proud of you.”
“Hm?” She turned and looked at me. “So that’s what we’re wearing, Mom?”
She was fighting a grin. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I’d sort of expected this. Maribelle had cannibalized my best gowns for Ella’s dress, and I’d traded a few others for the shoes, which left me with two options: a severe and tightly laced funeral dress and an old gift from my mother. I’d always told her I was saving it for something special, and it turned out I hadn’t lied. I’d saved it for the last gasp of my dignity.
It was pink like spun sugar. The skirt left room for me to hide both Fanchon and Ella. At my height, I couldn’t possibly look cheerful enough to pull this off. Fortunately, it didn’t matter. I was going to be ill on the way there. I just had to survive the carriage ride with Fan.
“Fan …”
“No, Mom, it’s fine. I mean, you know there are going to be rich widowers there, right? You might finally find a husband who will die and leave you a fortune.”
“Get in the carriage,” I said quietly.
“What? I just—”
“Fanchon, someday you might have to learn when to shut up. Please get in the carriage.”
She marched past me, throwing her shoulder into me.
“That’s a new dress,” I realized.
“No, it isn’t. I’ve had it forever.”
“You’re lying, Fan. I can tell it’s new.”
“How? You don’t know everything I own!”
“Fan! I told you we couldn’t afford anything new! Ella, we’re leaving!” I shouted and slammed the door.
“You can’t afford it, but I can!”
“How?”
“Everyone knows I’m going to be loaded when I’m eighteen. I just used my credit line.”
“You have a credit line?” I think I felt my heart stop. “Fan, how—how much have you charged?”
As it turned out, I wasn’t really lying when I told Fan I didn’t feel well. Nothing makes me ill like a great mass of useless debt. She didn’t care, so I dropped her off and immediately turned the carriage around.
I stopped the carriage some yards away from the house and snuck into the stables on foot so Ella wouldn’t hear the horses. I’d left the dress and shoes in a sack tucked in the hay, and I now pulled them out. Maribelle had wrapped the dress delicately in a soft white cloth. I stacked the somewhat transparent-looking shoes on top and tucked my ambiguous invitation under the heels.
From the carriage house, I bustled into the garden. We used to have a small knot garden—interlocking manicured hedges surrounding a quaint little marble fountain—but since Ella only had time to tend the vegetable garden and the rosebush, the hedges had become one overgrown mass surrounding a very large birdbath.
It was practically a jungle expedition, and I was intensely ill-attired. I tried to be silent, but I was almost two feet wider than usual. I pushed through the crowded garden like I was wading through molasses, dragging my giant skirt through the snagging bushes. Each rip felt like it echoed, but I reassured myself—Ella had sulked meekly in her room all day. I didn’t think she had a chance of hearing me.
Just to the side of the knot garden was a cherry tree, planted by Ella’s mother. If a fairy was going to leave Ella a gift, she’d leave it by the tree. I knelt down, although my skirts didn’t, and wobbled in my rising layers of pink fabric. Just as I placed my little bundle at the base of the tree, I heard the back doorknob turn. I froze. Ella must have moved to the fireplace after we left. If she saw me, she’d know it wasn’t her fairy godmother, and she’d probably refuse to go; and even if she did go, she’d have to lie to Fanchon, and that would never work. I looked around desperately, but truthfully, the garden only had one hiding spot. I dived low under an overgrown hedge.
I tried to crawl through, propelling myself forward on my elbows, but my dress was caught. Twisting, I reached one arm back to swat at yards of pink gauze. I tugged the fabric loose from the branches and pulled my feet under the hedge line.
“Godmother?” I heard as I tried to scoot toward the fountain. Little thorny branches slapped me in the face, but I reached in and tugged on the skirt one last time. I broke free and huddled at the base of the fountain, peeking under the hedge.
“Godmother? Where did you go?” Ella said. She’d come out with a candle and cautiously approached the hedges.
It’s a good thing I’m not trying to rob the house, I thought, not that we’ve got anything to steal. Only Ella would assume a mysterious noise in the back was her fairy godmother.
Look at the tree, I willed her, but her feet just kept coming closer. I crawled to the other side of the fountain. Please don’t look over the hedge, I thought. Suddenly I heard a gasp. I hustled back around and peered out from under the hedge. Joy lit up her face, but as I watched her I groaned in inward disappointment. I finally understood why the slippers were supposed to be glass. Glass would have sparkled.
“Oh, Godmother! Thank you!” She scooped the bundle into her arms and ran into the house.
Time for phase two. It has to be quicker to go over the hedge, I thought. I lifted one leg over and straddled the hedge, then swung my other leg over. Except it didn’t come, because this damnable dress had become one with the brambles.
Hopping on my free foot, I silently cursed my mother. I pulled and yanked and tried to spring forward until it all came suddenly free. I toppled over, like a giant pink tree.
Get the carriage, I thought, before she’s finished getting ready. I picked myself up out of the dirt and ran toward the carriage, motioning frantically for it to pull up to the house. Ella stepped out of the front door just as I leaned against the corner of the house, wheezing tragically. She’d have taken my breath away, if I’d had any left.
Maribelle had worked magic. She had blended the grayish-blue velvet with white satin so that the dress gave off light. I’d clearly fallen short. Glass would have looked so much better. Ella hadn’t had time for an elaborate hairstyle, so she’d simply piled it on her head, and a few strands had fallen out of place. I’d never seen her look so much like Henry.
She turned toward me. I spun around the corner with a wide circle, narrowly avoiding the bush abutting the house.
“Godmother, I know you’re there. I saw your fairy dress.”
She took a few steps closer to the corner. I was going to have to speak. What did a fairy godmother sound like, anyway? High and thin, perky? Maybe a nasal tone? I took a deep breath.
Suddenly, one of the sparrows landed on the bush. My eyes widened. Stay put, I thought.
“Fly away, child! Fly away!” I squeaked, in my best impression of a tiny talking bird. I hesitated. I wanted to chirp, but if I did it poorly, and then the actual bird chirped …
Fortunately, Ella squealed in delight. “Oh, hello, little sparrow! Did my godmother send you?”
“Mm-hmm! We always look after you!”
“I knew it! Will you thank her for me? I wanted to go to the ball so badly, but Stepmother only had two invitations because she hates me and—”
“She doesn’t hate you! Don’t be too hard on her. She’s doing her best!”
“She is?”
“Now get in the carriage!” My sparrow voice made my nose buzz, which then made my ears pop. I yawned. “It’ll take you to the ball.”
But not back, I suddenly realized. Not if it took Fanchon back first. I scrambled. Fanchon would stay there… When did it end? Two in the morning? So if I counted the carriage travel time back and forth, plus a little bit of a cushion to give the horses a breather…
“But remember this! You must leave the ball by the stroke of midnight!”
“Wait, why?”
“Because the magic will end!” I’d lost the voice. “The magic will end,” I tried again. “Your dress, the shoes—all magic!” Nope. I sounded like Maribelle’s two-year-old.
“My dress will vanish?”
“Mm-hmm!”
“I�
��ll remember, little sparrow! Thank you ever so much!” She climbed into the carriage.
I waited until she drove off and went inside the house. I poured myself a drink and picked little round green leaves out of my hair.
Well done, Evelyn, I thought. One daughter will get herself a prince, the other daughter will undoubtedly pick up a duke, and you’ve got the house to yourself. I sat in the stillness and listened to the bellowing frogs. Mm. I didn’t tell Ella to leave a slipper behind, I realized. Well, she’d have to think of some things herself. I couldn’t do everything for her, now could I?
I heard the front door open and close twice that evening. The first shut with quiet courtesy, and I suddenly remembered the dress was supposed to vanish. Once Ella was safely in her room, I told the driver to pick up Fan (I owed him a tidy sum). Then I waited outside her door until her room was so silent I thought she had to be asleep. I snuck in and took the neatly folded dress and subpar shoes—there were two of them. Well, hopefully the prince could just recognize her. The second time the door closed, it slammed so hard it brought me out of a deep sleep. I smiled anyway.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“WELL, FAN? How was it?” I asked when she finally trudged down to breakfast the next morning.
“Terrible. That was the worst party ever.”
“Didn’t you get to dance with the prince?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because there were like a million people there, Mom! The line was out the door!”
“Oh.” I was hoping to hear that Ella had swept the prince off his feet and he wouldn’t dance with anyone else. I started to feel a terrible sinking sensation.
“And you could dance with the other nobles, but only if you wanted to give up your place in line, and besides, the dance floor was so clogged with people, you only had a few inches to move. It was like …”
“Like being packed in a tin,” Ella offered. “And everyone had to move the same direction or you would just bounce off each other.”
“Exactly! How do you know that?”
Ella’s face froze as all her concentration went toward formulating a lie. Her mouth hung open a little, and her eyes drifted up toward the ceiling.
I decided to help. “Ella certainly has quite the imagination.”
“Yes, I just imagined it,” she said hoarsely.
“You’re so weird.”
“Did you see anyone interesting?” I asked Fan.
“No one interesting wanted to talk to me, Mom. All the attractive men had twenty girls hanging on them. They didn’t want to talk to me.”
“I mostly stood on the edge of the room and got pushed around by all the people,” Ella said.
Fan stared at Ella.
“In my imagination.”
“How are you talking like you were there?” Fan shouted.
“I just know what it would have been like?” It wasn’t a question, but Ella said it like it was. I needed to help her—she was practically immobile—but I also had to keep up the charade.
“As a matter of fact, Ella, I came home early. I didn’t see you.”
Her eyes widened exponentially. You were in your room, I thought loudly, hoping maybe I could transfer the thought into her head.
“I was … not … here.”
This was a disaster.
“What? Were you there? You didn’t have an invitation!” Fan shrieked. “How did you go to the ball?”
“I didn’t see you in the living room,” I hinted, hoping she would pick a different room.
“Umm …” Ella hummed like a bumblebee.
“And you weren’t in the kitchen.”
She looked down at her plate.
I’m going to have to list every room in the house, I thought. “I didn’t see you in the washroom.”
“Where were you?” Fan screamed.
“I—I—I was in my room?”
Whew. I let out the breath I was holding.
“Oh, I didn’t look there,” I said. “I suppose if you were in your room I wouldn’t have seen you. Do you think the prince picked a wife, Fan?”
“I doubt it. He had to dance practically every dance. I think he wanted to run away.”
“I didn’t even get to see the prince,” Ella said softly.
“Because you weren’t there!” Fan shouted.
I hit my head slowly on the cupboard.
Well, a prince had been a long shot, hadn’t it? I revisited the list of minor nobles the ladies had given me and began paying calls.
“Lady Quincey. It’s been too long!” I minced, taking a seat in the Quincey family home. Oliver Quincey was the first name on my list, so naturally, I was meeting his mother.
“Hi-i-i,” she sang, stretching the word into several syllables. “How are you?”
You’d think by this point I’d have figured out a good answer to that question. Each time, however, I just wanted to let loose. How do you think I am? I wanted to say. My husband is dead. We’re just about in the poorhouse, which you already know, because everyone knows! Everyone knows our business, and you’re all just looking the other way!
I never actually said any of that, of course.
“It’s certainly been a struggle since Henry passed,” I said, sighing. “But we’re muddling our way through. I suppose there’s no other choice, really. One just has to keep going. Still, I’ve got my girls, and it’s such a pleasure watching them grow into such beautiful young ladies. Have you met my daughters?”
“No-oo-oo!” she exclaimed. “And I’ve always wanted to!”
I found that doubtful. Glendora Quincey was trying to butter me up. “I’ll have to introduce you,” I said. “How is your family?”
“Oh, quite lovely. Bruce has decided to start a political career, so we’re thinking of moving to the Ca-a-a-pital,” she said, her singsong voice making her sound more and more like a bleating sheep. “We’d give Oliver the house, of course, but we’d like to see him get married first.”
Aha. Glennie knew why I was there, and her bid apparently came with the family estate.
“I completely understand. You want to see him settled. That’s exactly how I feel about my daughters. Both Fanchon and Ella are of age now, and the process seems overwhelming.”
“I ima-a-a-gine Fanchon has quite a sizable dowry.”
Subtle, Glennie. Very subtle.
“Yes, her father did provide well for her there. But then Ella has just the sweetest, kindest personality.” I paused for a split second before I said some of the worst words to ever come out of my mouth. You’ve got to seal the deal, Evelyn. You’re desperate. “I’m sure she’d make any young man happy.”
“Aww,” Glennie purred, stretching her smile and opening her eyes wide, trying to seem interested in Ella. “You really ought to meet Oliver,” Glennie continued. “Have you met my son before?”
“I haven’t, no. I’ve heard wonderful things about him, of course.”
“You’re too kind. Let me see if he’s home.”
He would be, of course. Glendora had planned her pitch. She sent a servant to find him, and sure enough, within a few seconds he sauntered into the room.
“Oo-oo-oh, Oliver!” Glennie said. “Madam Radcliffe and I were just talking about her daughters. Do you know Fanchon and … um …”
“Ella,” I supplied.
“That’s right, Ella. Have you met them?”
“Do you mean Fanchon Envers? Why, I’d be quite the social recluse if I didn’t know Miss Envers. You have a charming daughter, Madam Radcliffe.”
I murmured my thanks. Fanchon saved her charm for outside the house, I supposed.
“You’re probably not aware, of course, but Envers Enterprises is simply the model for all business plans. Any student of investment or manufacturing has studied it, but for womenfolk, well, that’s probably too challenging, isn’t it? I’m sure Fanchon is planning to hand the company to her future husband. A board of directors really ought to be all men.”
After the Quinceys’ display, I wasn’t exactly keen on continuing these calls, but I had to find Ella a husband before Fan got her inheritance and left us in the dust. Unfortunately, Glennie Quincey had been talking.
When I arrived at the Windham estate, Annalisa Windham welcomed me with an array of cookies and pies and little cakes. Then she introduced her son by having him drift into the room strumming a lute. He said he didn’t know I’d be there. Right.
Like the Quinceys, the Windhams were interested in Fanchon’s money, not Ella. It was only when I stopped the servant carrying the uneaten desserts to the compost heap that I learned the young Lord Windham had inherited his mother’s nasty habit of spending an entire monthly allowance in a week. At least I went home with leftovers.
I might well have given up at this point, but the remaining mothers of eligible bachelors weren’t even waiting for me to make a call. The Meekleys ambushed me on the road into town; as soon as I was in view, Lady Meekley did a spectacular, flailing imitation of a turned ankle. She’d probably hoped her son’s protestations of care and affection would sound more natural, and I’m sure that distraction was the reason she walked up to me, leaning on his arm, limping on the wrong ankle.
After all the hoopla for the ball, whenever I left the house I was stuck with my severe high-necked jet-black funeral gown. It was starting to feel appropriate.
Joanna Kindler had worked out my usual market time and put in her bid there. I don’t think she’d expected that I’d have Ella with me.
“We can afford the cabbage, I think. Should we get a head, Stepmother?”
“I’m so tired of cabbage,” I grumbled.
“But you always say if we get cabbage we can also afford cheese.”
“I know, I know. What have we got in the garden?”
“The parsnips are coming in nicely. And I think we have radishes ready to eat.”
I sighed. “Okay, let’s get the usual. A head of cabbage, a cheese wheel, and make sure you get enough rye to replenish your store. You’re doing a wonderful job with the bread.”
