by Maggie Hoyt
I took a deep breath and put my arm around Fan. She nestled against me, wiping tears on her sleeve.
“Thank you very much, Ethan,” I said. I felt Fan nod.
“M-my pleasure,” he said, suddenly shy.
I resisted the impulse to explain why I’d started such a disaster. Fortunately, Ethan kept talking.
“If you need anything while I’m here on break, I’m happy to help. I could walk with you, next time you’ve got to do the shopping,” he said.
“That’s very generous of you, and I will take you up on that offer. I suspect, however, we’ll be lying low for a while.” An understatement. I’d need to lie really, really low after this.
He nodded in understanding. “Have a good day,” he said.
We said goodbye and turned toward home. Fan cried the whole way back. I kept my arm around her, and she didn’t let go of me.
Fan and I celebrated her birthday a day late, after the paperwork arrived turning her inheritance over to her. She paid for a birthday feast that included both ham and chocolate cake, which probably cost more than I’d spent on food for nearly a year.
The following day, our first creditor knocked on our door. He was lean, with a beady stare and eyes a fraction too close together. He was accompanied by a burly giant, who stood there cradling a solid wooden club in his folded arms.
“Good day, madam. I’m here to collect what your daughter owes me,” the shopkeeper said.
“Indeed. And how much does she owe?” I replied.
“Six hundred and seventy sovereigns, even.”
“Hmm. May I see the itemized record, please?”
“What? Well, you see, ma’am …”
“You didn’t keep track?”
“Look, madam, I know how much your daughter spent! If she refuses to pay what is owed—”
“What do you sell?” I interrupted.
“Ladies’ goods,” he said. “Handkerchiefs, stockings, gloves—”
“My daughter did not spend six hundred and seventy sovereigns on stockings.”
“Do you mean to cheat me?” he snarled, his lip quivering in anger. “I will be satisfied! If that girl doesn’t pay her due, we’ll seize what’s ours! I’ll let Flint here have a look around, maybe he can convince her to pay!”
Flint tapped the club on his bicep. The shopkeeper glanced behind me, flashing a toothy grin. I followed his gaze and saw Fanchon standing there, wide-eyed and white as a sheet. I kept a firm grip on the doorknob, just in case I needed to slam it in their faces.
“Sir, setting aside your extremely illegal threats, I’m not saying my daughter doesn’t owe you money. I’m saying six hundred and seventy sovereigns is obscene.”
“Well, see, some of that is interest. I’m not explaining interest rates to a couple of women, so—”
“No, please don’t. In that case, may I see the contract my daughter signed stating the rate and the principal?”
“You are testing my patience, woman! You are withholding my due, and I will see your daughter in debtor’s prison! Are you saying I can’t calculate my own business dealings?”
“No. If there was neither contract nor record of the loan, you cannot claim interest. I will give you one last chance to name the actual amount my daughter owes you, or I will report you for extortion.”
His eyes gave a brief flicker of frustration before his expression settled into a grimacing pout.
“One hundred thirty-eight,” he grumbled.
That sounded reasonable. I turned to Fan. “Why don’t you write a check, love.”
They weren’t all such bullies, but that also wasn’t the only threat of debtor’s prison. It certainly wasn’t Fan’s largest debt. By the time she’d finished paying all her creditors, she’d spent most of the money in her account and we couldn’t fix the roof until the next deposit from her father’s company came in. So I extended the life of our tight budget.
A few days after her birthday, I noticed a book missing from my shelf. I had to hide my grin when I caught her reading Davenport’s Treatise on Economy: Wealth, from Homes to Nations. Even I wouldn’t choose to read an economics textbook from cover to cover, so I bought her A Beginner’s Guide to Budgets.
I’m not sure whether it was staring down men like Flint that motivated her or viewing her bank account bleed out as she wrote check after check, but she also began to clean. She worked out a schedule for doing the laundry, sweeping, dusting, and scrubbing the bathroom, so when her next deposit came in and I asked her if she wanted to hire servants, she shook her head vigorously and pointed to herself.
I did want to encourage frugality, so I didn’t argue. I made a mental note, however, to talk her into hiring a cook eventually.
About a week later, I again responded to a pounding at the door, only this time, it wasn’t a creditor. It was Maribelle.
“Oooh, Evelyn, I’m so angry at Cora and Delia!” she fumed as soon as I opened the door. Before I could even say hello, she marched past me into the house, still ranting.
“At tea, they were saying the nastiest things about you, and Fanchon, and Ella, and I told them to stop being rude, but they just laughed, so I stood up and said I would have nothing more to do with them, and I came straight here! I brought treats.” She dropped her basket on the living room table with a little more force than was necessary.
“Um,” I stalled, a bit stunned. “Maribelle, I really don’t care what Cora and Delia say about me.”
“I know, but they were saying it’s embarrassing that you had to have your life sorted out by fairies, but there’s nothing embarrassing about fairies! It’s so beautiful, and I love fairies, and Cora and Delia really wind me up!”
“Well, I appreciate that you stood up for me. And Fanchon and I will definitely eat your treats.”
“Wonderful!” she cried, clasping her hands. “They’re fondant cakes!”
Normally, I would have tried to get rid of Maribelle rather quickly, but to my astonishment, I found I was glad of her company. Some part of my inner self must have watched in horror as she and Fanchon and I sat down to try her little cakes.
Mostly, however, I was filled with the realization that I hadn’t had an actual friend since Henry died. And I missed it. I missed him, of course, but I’d forgotten just how nice it is to have another person who cared.
Now it appeared I’d have two. If only there was a way to average out how much they both talked.
About two and a half weeks after the fairies had descended upon us, the queen announced the wedding of her son to the beautiful Ella Radcliffe. Fan and I were in the marketplace when the herald read the proclamation, watching as the crowd erupted into a cacophony of astonishment.
“Well, that didn’t take long,” I muttered.
Fan looked at me as if I’d sprouted horns.
“What?”
She waved her arms frantically, pointing at the herald and tugging on her ear; she was so animated, I thought she might start jumping up and down. She insistently held her arms out toward the herald.
What on earth? I thought. I mean, it was exciting news that Ella was marrying the prince, but—oh, damn. I was the only one who knew Ella had met the prince.
My eyes widened in horror. You cannot tell Fan there were no fairies, my mind insisted. Luckily, Fan only nodded, encouraging my epiphany, as though I’d finally figured it out.
“You mean … our Ella?” I went with it.
Fan nodded and gripped her head, grimacing as if in pain.
“Are you all right?”
She stamped her foot a little and paused to think. Then she put up her fists, almost in front of her face, and shook them back and forth.
“What?”
This time she bent over and stuck her head out, and then flopped her hands, which she’d raised level to her head.
“Fan, I don’t suppose, since you’ve been really nice to me, you might consider talking to me? Only to me, if you’re not ready to talk to other people. I really don’t thi
nk frogs will fall if you’re talking to me.”
She scrunched up her face. Please, I thought, I can’t take much more of these charades. Finally, she grabbed my hand and dragged me into an alley away from all the shoppers. She stood on her toes and whispered in my ear.
“If Ella’s the princess, she could put us in jail!” she hissed.
“We didn’t do anything illegal, Fan,” I replied. “You weren’t always nice to Ella, but you didn’t break the law. I’m sure if you sincerely apologized, she’d forgive you. Actually, that could be a good use of your first words. I bet you’re about ready to speak again.”
Was I ever wrong about that. Mortified, Fan shook her head vigorously.
“I know you’re nervous, but the fairy did say the curse could be lifted. And I think you’re ready for some better luck.”
Fan just kept shaking her head. Inwardly, my spirits sank, and my stomach fluttered in panic. Had I actually trained my daughter to be seen and not heard? Had I accidentally taught her to keep her opinions to herself? It ought to be time for her to talk, my mind insisted. I tried to reassure myself. Fan can’t stand to stay silent forever, I thought. She’s willing to talk to you. Be patient, Evelyn.
As we walked home, quietly, another thought hit me.
“Are you jealous of Ella for marrying the prince?”
She stopped so she could reach my ear.
“Not really,” she whispered. “I never had a chance of marrying the prince anyway.”
“Well,” I said, “I think you had as much a chance as any young woman in the kingdom. But no, mathematically speaking, given the number of noblewomen in the land, your odds were slim.”
Fan held out her hands in a classic “That’s life” gesture.
“Besides, I don’t think you’d have enjoyed being a princess.”
She looked up at me quizzically.
“I don’t think you’d be happy with all the restrictions. Not being able to go wherever you like, and never leaving without a guard. Even as a child you were independent. And always curious. I chased you all over the place.”
I caught the tiniest self-satisfied smirk on Fan’s lips.
“Believe it or not, we may have it more interesting than Ella does.”
As if to illustrate my point, the royal carriage was waiting for us when we got home. The wood was painted a deep, luxurious red, and every edge and piece of trim was gilt, probably with real gold. And it was parked in front of my house.
Adding to the elegant spectacle, Prince Aiden jumped down from the carriage and held his hand out to Ella. Instead of simply helping her step down, however, he put his hands on her waist and lifted her down, letting the skirts of her soft pink gown whirl around her feet. She looked happier than I’d ever seen her.
Fan, on the other hand, was frozen like a statue, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. She made a choked noise as Ella descended from the carriage, sort of a “hrk” sound. I curtsied as the two approached us, but Fan was in a world of her own.
“Going to have to curtsy, Fan,” I muttered.
She jumped into action. The prince bowed to us and bid us rise. As Fan stood up, I saw her put her hands to her cheeks—she was trying to look like she was just astonished, but I noticed her fingers kept drifting in front of her eyes. This must be the part of the story when the stepsister has her eyes gouged out, I realized.
“Madam Radcliffe, Miss Envers. I am Prince Aiden. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Ella’s told me a lot about you,” the prince said, without a trace of irony.
Fan looked very skeptical, and I had my share of doubt. I couldn’t imagine Ella had anything to tell that would make it a pleasure to meet us. Still, I knew my manners.
“It is an honor, Your Highness.”
“We’d hoped to be the first to tell you, but if you’ve been in town, then perhaps …” He trailed off.
“We heard the news a few moments ago. Congratulations, darling!”
Fan nodded in agreement and moved her hands enough to show a smile.
“I want you both to come to the wedding, of course,” Ella said. “It’s going to be here in Strachey, at the summer mansion.”
“We’d be honored, dear. And if there’s anything at all we can do to help …”
“Well …,” she started, shyly.
“What do you need?”
“Well, I know since Fan has her inheritance, you don’t really need to stay here, but I was hoping maybe you would? Since I did grow up here, but I won’t be able to take care of the house, and I would like to know it’s still here …”
“Ella, I’d also like to know it’s here. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you, Stepmother! And Aiden said he would have the roof fixed right away!”
“Your Highness! That’s very generous of you both, but I should be honest—Fanchon can afford to fix it.”
“I know, but I want to,” Ella said.
I felt my heart heave as though it were breathing a sigh of relief. It was the one last thing I’d hoped for. Financially speaking, I didn’t need Ella to forgive me, now that Fan wouldn’t cut me off. My soul, however, needed it badly. My guard now officially lowered, tears rushed to my eyes.
“Then thank you,” I said and held my arms out, without thinking. It took Ella a second to decide, but she eventually stepped forward and put her arms around me. I hugged her tightly for a moment. “I’m glad you’re all right,” I said.
“Thank you, Stepmother,” she said, stepping back.
“Do you need to gather any of your things?” I asked, trying to sniffle inconspicuously.
“No, we’ll send someone for them, if that’s all right. We just wanted to tell you about the wedding.”
“Of course. We’re glad you came,” I said. Fan nodded in agreement.
“Then … I guess we’ll go now. We’ll send you invitations!”
“Until later, darling.”
Fan waved at Ella, but as Ella turned to go, Fan suddenly started waving both arms frantically and hitting me on the arm.
“Ow! What is it, Fan?”
Ella turned back around and Fan rushed forward. She’s going to do it, I thought. She’ll apologize, she’ll speak, and it’ll be the happiest ending anyone could imagine.
“What’s wrong, Fan?” Ella asked.
Fan stuck out both hands to the side like stop signs, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, all in mental preparation. Here it comes …
She pointed to herself. Then she held her left arm out in front of her, rounded, while the right arm made circles … oh, stirring. She was holding a pot and stirring it. I tried very hard not to sigh.
Ella just stared. She had that intent stare that told you she was thinking, so Fan went for more detail. She grabbed a handful of air and threw it in the pot. Then she mimed a little salt shaker and sprinkled some in the mixture before she went back to stirring.
“Oh!” Ella said. “Are you cooking?”
Fan nodded and pointed to herself insistently.
“You’re doing the cooking now? Good for you, Fan! That’s very impressive.”
Fan pointed to Ella, then put her palms together and flapped them open and shut.
“Oh, a book! How many words is it?”
Fan shook her head. She pointed to Ella. She stirred the pot. Then she opened and shut the book.
“A cooking book!” Ella exclaimed, delighted. “Oh! I do have a recipe book! Here, I’ll get it for you.”
Ella and Fan ran into the house, leaving me standing outside with the prince. I knew I ought to say something, but I wasn’t sure what. I couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t inspire a response like, “Well, after you threw Ella out of the house …”
Luckily, the prince broke the silence. “I can’t express how grateful I am to have met Ella. She never says anything bad about anyone, does she?”
“She gets that from her father,” I said.
“It’s incredible. We ne
ed that. Court needs that kind of positive energy. She’s going to change the world.”
I wouldn’t have said that about Ella, and I suddenly felt a bit guilty. Why couldn’t she change the world?
“I don’t think it was a coincidence that we met,” he continued. “I’m certain fairies led us right to that spot.” He laughed. “My old schoolmates would definitely have a go at me for believing in fairies, but once you’ve met Ella, how could you not? She’s perfect.”
“You’re a lucky man, Your Highness,” I said.
He smiled wide and nodded. When I first saw him, I’d assumed he was shy, but I could see now I was wrong. He was sure of himself. Probably comes with being a prince, I thought. Although Henry had been quite the opposite, there was still something about the prince that reminded me of him. Ah. Sincerity, I realized. I didn’t think the prince could be anything but genuine.
I heard Ella’s voice as the girls left the house. “And see, I’ve made notes on some of the recipes of changes I made, and I’ve written in what you can substitute if you can’t find some of the ingredients.”
Ella closed the book and handed it over to Fan. Fan smiled and gave a little bow. Then suddenly she threw her arms around Ella’s neck.
“Oh!” Ella exclaimed, but she returned the embrace.
Fan stepped back, bawling, but she held Ella’s gaze fiercely for a good while. Oh, say it, Fan, I thought.
But she didn’t need to.
“It’s all right, Fan,” Ella said. “I forgive you.” Fan started crying even harder, and Ella gave her another hug.
“Would you—would you like to be my maid of honor, Fan?”
Fan’s jaw dropped and she pointed at herself incredulously.
“It’s just that … some of the other young women at court have come to meet me, but I think they’re all very jealous, and they aren’t very nice at all, and I don’t want to be all by myself at my own wedding!”
Now Ella had started to tear up, but Fan wiped her eyes, put her hands on her hips, and nodded firmly.
“Oh, thank you!”
