The Fairy Stepmother Inc.

by Maggie Hoyt

  “Your lordship,” he said finally.

  “Your lordship,” I repeated through clenched teeth, my cheeks burning.

  “Women should always address their betters with proper titles.”

  I gripped my fork so tightly the metal dug into my palm. The arrogant, scum-sucking relic of the minor nobility. I forced myself to smile.

  “The grounds here are very beautiful. My lord.”

  “Yes, they were planted by my father’s father’s father,” he said, picking his teeth. “He was awarded the land for saving the king’s life. Are you past childbearing years?”

  “Yes,” I said incredulously.

  “Good. There cannot be any challenges to my son’s succession, but I would naturally expect my full marital rights.”

  I put my fork down very, very slowly. Everything had slowed to a crawl. I could see him talking, but I couldn’t hear him because I was trapped inside myself, boiling blood and bile rising to my head. Finally, his voice broke through the rushing in my ears.

  “You have two daughters, yes?”

  I nodded.

  “They will take positions in the scullery. They cannot be daughters of this house, but I will allow they must be adequately cared for. Does this offend you?”

  It must have shown in my face. I’d rather live on the streets, I thought, but I’m not the one I’m trying to protect. I smiled faintly, gave my head a little shake, and finished the dinner.

  It rained again. We all moved a little sluggishly this time, as if we couldn’t be bothered to care. None of us would be living here in a month or two anyway. We certainly couldn’t fix the roof now, not after the amount I’d wasted on the ball. Fan’s allowance didn’t stretch far enough for the three of us, so I took odd jobs when they were available. If I was lucky, I could get some work as a scribe. If I wasn’t, I was stuck with sweeping, making deliveries, or emptying out rubbish bins. When I couldn’t earn a few coins, I usually didn’t eat. Time to start getting used to that, I figured. What good were the stories anyway? They weren’t meant for real people.

  It seemed to be marriage or nothing. Even among the merchants and tradespeople, I couldn’t find a suitor for Ella, not without a dowry. I made follow-up calls to the eligible nobles, and I even dared to take Fan with me. She cooed and flattered and enjoyed the attention, but she was oblivious to their haughty smugness, the hunger in their eyes that so terrified me. They’re wolves! I wanted to shout at her. They’re not safe. I could not let her make the same mistake I had. The more time passed without some miracle, the more I was certain the bride would have to be me.

  The mail arrived three days after the storm. The messenger stared past me at our soggy, drooping house. I cleared my throat. He handed me a sack of coins—my monthly allowance. My last allowance, I realized. Fan’s birthday was this month.

  This was it, then. I considered begging Fan’s charity to see if she’d give me an allowance. Even then, Ella and I would hardly have a home, and we’d still have to beg for work. The world of the streets would abuse Ella while the world of the elite took advantage of Fan. The best I could do was pledge myself to a self-important noble and stick Ella in his kitchen. She’d neither understand nor forgive me, but it was all I had. I was getting married this month.

  I hadn’t been in the house very long when I heard another knock at the door.

  “’Scuse me, ma’am. Are you Madam Radcliffe?” the man said. His clothes were stained and his beard unkempt as though he had clearly been traveling for some time.

  “Yes.”

  “Got a letter for you, here.” He pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket. “From your husband. He gave it to me ’cause I was heading this direction, see, only I got caught up with some doings in Farthingdale, so I took a roundabout way, if you catch my drift. Anyhow, I reckon he got here before me, but it still seemed decent to bring you the letter.”

  My hand started to tremble as I took the parchment.

  “Thank you so much, sir,” I said with measured voice. “I … I don’t really have payment for you.”

  He looked at my house and nodded. “’S’all right, ma’am. Your husband already paid.”

  Of course he had.

  As the man walked away, I stared at the letter in my hand. My fingers ached to open it, but I needed privacy; I needed to be so far away from the dampness and the angst. I shut the door behind me and hurried down the path. I started toward the lake, but then I felt a huge sob rise up, and I bent over like I’d been punched. I couldn’t handle losing it completely right now. I just wanted to read the letter. I turned around and went a different direction. I didn’t really notice which.

  I found myself in town. It was market day, so I stood in a little square by myself, listening to the hum of bargaining in the distance. I sat on the ground, leaned up against a well, and opened the letter.

  Dearest Evelyn,

  I imagine you’ll see me before you see this letter. The fellow I’m giving this to seems a little suspect, but he looked like he could use a meal and a bath, so I’ve parted with a few sovereigns, and I will probably tell you all this again anyway.

  I’ve missed you more than ever this time. In fact, I’ve hated this trip, and that’s quite the admission, coming from me. When I get home, let’s come up with a way to restructure. I just can’t bear being away from you and the girls anymore.

  I can already hear you telling me I’m being foolish, but you’re not being very convincing because the more I listen, the more I long to hear your voice in person. You have the most wonderful voice. You know how a rose petal feels? Soft, but not perfectly smooth? That is how your voice sounds. Listening to you is like being covered in a blanket of rose petals.

  Goodness, I’m not much of a poet. I can’t wait to see you. Tell the girls I love them. I’ve got presents for them. It’s probably a bad way to parent, but I’m hoping I’ll win over Fanchon someday.

  Love, Henry

  Every tear I’d held in since the moment we heard the news came flooding out. My chest heaved as I tried to stop them, but all I could think of was how I’d never see him again. I couldn’t even force my mind to worry about Fan and Ella instead. I’d been using them to shove grief into a back corner of my mind, but now I knew what would happen to them. You can’t really worry when you know.

  I lost track of how long I’d been curled up, I was so absorbed; so when I heard a voice call out, I was slow to respond.

  “Pardon me, madam, I say.”

  “Sorry?” I looked up. A decrepit, ancient woman shambled toward the well. She was draped with dirty rags and leaned heavily on her staff. My heart leapt suddenly. What if she’s a fairy? I thought before my common sense could get a word in.

  “Have you got a bucket? Or a cup or whatnot?” she asked.

  “A cup?”

  She gestured toward the well. “Something for water.”

  “Oh!” I stood up and held out my empty hands. I hadn’t brought my bag, although really, I didn’t usually carry a cup.

  “I don’t have one. I’m so sorry. I … wasn’t really here for water. There’s got to be a bucket around here somewhere.” I started looking around. “My stepdaughter probably carries a cup with her, for this very purpose,” I muttered. Because Ella probably prepares for fairies, I thought.

  “Eh. Don’t trouble yourself,” the woman said. “My cottage is just around the bend, I’m just being lazy.”

  “Oh.”

  “Besides, you look like you’ve got your own troubles.”

  I sat down on the lip of the well and fought back another flood.

  “Go on. Nothing like telling a crone all your problems.”

  “My husband is dead and I miss him.”

  “Hm.”

  “My daughters are teenagers and they hate me.”

  “Ah!”

  “I’d get them married, but the men around here rankle. I’d teach them to survive in the world, but they don’t have the sense God gave geese. I’ve got no ch
oice but to put myself under a misogynistic crustacean because as soon as my daughter turns eighteen—in a few weeks—she’ll leave her stepsister and me penniless and then go blow her fortune paying back her overextended credit.”

  “Well that’s a … that’s a how-d’ye-do, ain’t it?” Drool ran down the old woman’s chin as she spoke.

  Her voice was grating, as if I’d dragged my nails down a sheet of iron, and she gurgled a little mid-word, which was probably where the drool came from. Not exactly a blanket of rose petals. Wait. My heart started racing as an idea began to compound like interest. I watched as a drop of spittle fell from the woman’s chin. What if …? I pictured the house, anticipated Fan’s reaction … Yes. I just needed … the prince’s hunting day—tomorrow.

  “Um, ma’am?”

  “Huh?”

  “Do you think you could help me with something?”

  As soon as I returned home, I sent Ella to the market. We couldn’t afford to buy much, but it was a long walk, so she’d still be gone a while. Fanchon had left hours ago, so the house was mine.

  I went into the backyard, where our rosebush had bloomed beautifully under Ella’s care. I cut some flowers, here and there so that it wouldn’t be noticeable. Then I ripped the buds apart, collecting the petals in a cloth pouch.

  I looked at the bag. Rose petals were lovely, but I needed something more impressive. Something … valuable. I hurried upstairs and opened my jewelry box. There was nothing valuable there. I’d sold it all, of course. I examined my fakes. If I did this right, no one would be looking at the jewels. I pried bits of brightly colored glass and a few semiprecious stones from their settings and dropped them in the sack.

  The next part would be tricky. I stood in the living room, surveying the room. If I were sitting in the armchair, Ella would probably stand … there. And then which hole would be most directly above her?

  I dragged a chair over and climbed up. I nestled the bag in the thatching at the lip of the hole and secured it loosely with twine. The frogs burped next to my head. There were more of them now; they climbed atop one another to see over the rim of the flimsy tin bucket. I hoped they were too crowded to breed. The beam under their habitat was beginning to sag.

  I’d stolen some of Ella’s thread, fine and inconspicuously gray. I twisted two strands together and ran it from the bag, along the inside rafters, and let it dangle over the chair. I stood in Ella’s spot under the hole. With all the straw hanging down from the roof, the thread was only noticeable if you knew where to look, and neither of my daughters was keenly observant. I tugged the thread experimentally. A fake emerald and a few rose petals fell through the hole. This was, I thought, largely insane. I grinned. Bless you, Henry.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “ELLA!” I shouted the next afternoon. “The cistern is backed up again. Go down to the well in town, please.” I handed her a bucket and a ladle. She left obediently. I waited.

  When I saw her coming up the road, I sat in the chair and fingered the string nervously. Fanchon stormed into the room.

  “Is she back yet? I need to wash my hair.”

  Ella opened the door. Don’t talk yet, I prayed.

  “There you are!” Fanchon shouted. “Give me the bucket!”

  Ella crossed underneath the hole and Fan snatched the bucket from her hands.

  “How was the walk, Ella?” I said quickly.

  “Just fine, Stepmother,” she said. I tugged the string. A sapphire fell out with some rose petals. Ella jumped a little as the jewel landed at her feet. She looked dumbfounded at the ground. I pretended to look shocked.

  “Where did you get that?” I demanded, drawing her attention away from the hole in the ceiling and the costume jewelry on the floor.

  “I don’t know! They’re not mine!” I tugged the string again. A few pearls hit the floor and rolled as she babbled. She shrieked.

  “Ella. What happened?”

  “She must have been a fairy! There was a fairy at the well!” A diamond thudded on my floor. Ella clapped her hands over her mouth.

  “Is she still there?” Fanchon shouted.

  Ella shrugged.

  “I’m going to the well! Give me that.” She snatched the ladle from Ella’s hands and began to march out of the house.

  “The water, Fan,” I said. Fan made as if she would dump it on the porch. “Don’t waste it!” I shouted. “Pour it in the basin!”

  Fan just shoved the bucket toward Ella. As soon as Ella had emptied it, Fan snatched the bucket back and ran out the door.

  I took a second bag out of my pocket. “Gather everything up,” I said, handing the pouch to Ella.

  “Will we be able to fix the roof?” Ella asked. Rose petals and a topaz fluttered down.

  “I think we just may,” I said.

  Because you’re going to be a princess, I thought. It all made sense now. The one person who wouldn’t care that an orphan had no dowry? A prince. And the girls had read so many of those stories, they were utterly predictable. When the petals don’t fall for Fan, she’ll be furious, and I’ll be wicked and kick Ella out, and it won’t take more than a subtle suggestion to send her running right into the prince’s path.

  A few minutes later, Fanchon stomped back into the house.

  “I hate you! There wasn’t a fairy there! Just a stupid old woman hounding people for water. What’s her problem? She lives like a house away!”

  To this day, I remember the moment as if time had slowed, as if I were a captive audience member, watching a drama—or probably a comedy—unfold.

  Fan was angry. As she entered, she slammed the door open and let it swing shut. She hurled the bucket into the wall. She waved her arms around. She bellowed. She stomped her foot hard and then kicked the bucket back into the wall. I had expected all that. But even I was stunned when a frog leapt from its overcrowded habitat and landed at Fan’s feet. Both girls screamed.

  “What did you say to her?” Ella shrieked.

  I suddenly remembered I was a participant in the scene and tugged the thread belatedly, my eyes still fixated on the frog.

  “I told her to bugger off and get her own cup!” Fanchon stomped her foot again. This time I stole a glance at the ceiling. The bucket had shifted so it tilted at a slight angle, held in place by the rafters but giving the frogs a near-perfect diving board. A few more frogs followed their brother.

  “And she said, ‘May you have the luck you deserve’?” Ella said with increasing panic. More rose petals fell.

  Fanchon nodded.

  “Fan! That was the fairy! She said the same thing to me! Now you’ve got bad luck!”

  The girls’ high-pitched shrieks flooded the house. Fan’s tantrum continued to shake the rafters, prompting frogs to tumble out. Ella hurriedly scooped jewels and rose petals into the pouch and tried to rescue frogs from Fanchon’s feet. The girls were so focused on each other, neither one ever thought to look up. I just sat there, slack-jawed. It was like magic. I wished I’d thought of the frogs myself.

  “It’s all your fault! I hate you! Nothing good ever happens to me!” Fanchon screamed at Ella and kicked one of the beams. Frogs rained down as the rafters shook dangerously. That bucket was going to fall. Time to intervene.

  “Fanchon!” I said. “Stop talking.”

  Fan froze. I turned slowly to Ella.

  “Go.”

  Ella took off toward the door. I followed her and snatched the pouch of gems from her hand. I still needed those. She looked up at me with tears rolling down her cheeks. Her lip quavered.

  I cut the emotion from my voice. “So you convinced a fairy to curse your stepsister. I wouldn’t have expected that of you, Ella.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, so I quickly talked over her. I didn’t have rose petals rigged over the doorway.

  “I think it would be best if you no longer lived here. Fanchon is very angry. Run down to the river. You can follow it out of town. Perhaps Fanchon won’t look for you there.”

 
She ran away, sobbing. I sighed. Just wait until the end of the story, I thought.

  I turned back into the house. I would give Ella a brief head start, then I had to follow. Where were my shoes?

  Back in the sitting room, Fan sat huddled on the floor. I knelt next to her and put my hand on her arm. I don’t think she looked this helpless when she was born. Maybe, just this once, she could need me.

  “We’re going to fix this, Fan. I’m going right now to see what I can do. But I think you’re going to have to change your own luck, sweetheart.”

  Fan nodded meekly, mouth clamped shut.

  “Now. I’m going down to the well to find that fairy. You catch these frogs and find a nice place to keep them. Put some mud and water in a pail or something.”

  I could tell Fan wanted to complain, but she didn’t dare speak. Bless the frogs too. I kissed her on the forehead and hurried out of the house.

  I took a slightly different route than Ella did. I heard her sobbing down on the riverbank as I approached the hillside above her. I needed to position myself directly over her. I stopped as my shoes squelched in an oozing patch of muddy earth. Biting back a sigh of disgust, I looked for a drier way to the edge of the hillside. No luck. Reluctantly, I gathered up my skirts and squatted behind some rocks.

  It’s just a little mud, Evelyn, I thought. Besides, I knew that farther off, the prince and his admirers were hunting, and Maribelle and her children were waiting for their glimpse. Any minute now, the prince would come through the trees.

  We waited. Well, I waited. Ella mostly just cried. Tepid sludge permeated my shoes and tickled my feet. I cursed silently and tried to shift my weight off of my burning thighs. I can’t sit in this. Could I kneel? If I hoisted my skirts, maybe it would just ruin the stockings. I tried to lower my knees into the mud, but my legs just hit the surface with a wet slap. My legs slid backward, I leaned forward, and a rock rose up to meet my chest, knocking the wind out of me.

  I sat up, struggling to find the purchase to kneel. Where was the prince? The one day we’re waiting for him, he breaks his habit. What had I done to a fairy to deserve my luck? I fought against the panic. Now you’ve done it, Evelyn. You’re not going to get Ella back, I thought. You’ve thrown her to the wolves, when you should have sucked it up and found another husband. How wicked can you get? Then suddenly, I heard rustling leaves.