Frostbitten Fairy Tales

by Melanie Karsak

  “Yes?”

  “The captain,” he said, pointing to one of the ships frozen in the ice. “Will you come?”

  I smiled at Kai. “Well, you were right about one thing. In this weather, you’ll certainly be needed here.”

  “I’ll come see you when I can,” Kai said, patting my arm.

  “Titania will be ready,” I replied with a grin. I waved to Kai, watching him follow the boy to the ship, then turned toward the theatre.

  I walked down Freezeland Lane. The vendors were just opening their tents for the day. The smells of oil cakes and fried pork perfumed the air.

  A sharp wind blew across the Thames, carrying with it a light dusting of snow. It shimmered as it blew around me like crystal dust. The strange wind so encompassed me that I stopped. The wind, shimmering in the morning sunlight, spiraled around me. The light struck the sand-fine ice so that blobs of light shimmered incandescently. I removed my glove and held out my hand, feeling the icy wind. The strange torrent slid through my fingers like silk. It pulled my hair free from its binds. Long strands of my pale blonde locks swirled around me.

  A moment later, I heard a sound like the tinkling of tiny silver bells, then the wind dissipated. Once the torrent had cleared, I found myself standing across from the fine gentleman I had seen the night before. He wore a blue coat trimmed with ermine and silver buttons. His hair was pulled back at the nape, and he sported a top hat. His fair locks were very long and not of the London fashion.

  He stood staring at me longer than was appropriate, but his manner was not menacing. More, he seemed transfixed. It happened from time to time, fans of the theatre forgetting that we were mere performers, after all.

  “Good morning, sir. Such an odd wind, wasn’t it? Did you see it?”

  At this, he smiled, his blue eyes shimmering brightly. “It was a whirlwind.”

  “Quite magical,” I said, “but I fear my hair fared the worse for it.” I tried to smooth my wild locks. “I really need to carry a hand mirror.”

  The man smiled. “The wind only teased awake your beauty. Such a natural grace. You should let it hang long, not hide it with pins.”

  His flattery and frankness confirmed he was definitely not an Englishman. But aside from that, his voice held an accent that was not quite Welsh, not quite Irish, but something altogether different. I couldn’t help but feel the effect of his compliment. He was certainly a gentleman and a handsome one at that. But I was also well aware of the fact that actresses had a reputation for being easily won. And if I had any hopes of making a case for myself with the Waldegraves, I needed to keep my reputation above ill-repute.

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling my cheeks redden.

  “You are very welcome. You are, by far, the fairest maiden on the Thames, Miss McKenna.”

  “Sir…” I protested politely.

  When he did not respond, I looked up only to see he was gone. I looked around but saw nothing but the frozen Thames. Odd manners, indeed! Shaking off the encounter, I headed toward the theatre once more.

  When I arrived, I heard the voices of my troupe members in the tent backstage. Clearest of all was Marion complaining bitterly about something. Harold, one of the stagehands, was busy lighting the braziers around the benches. He looked up when I approached.

  “What’s Marion on about?” I asked.

  He screwed up his face to show his annoyance. “Oh, she’s mad that Lizzie is playing the cinder girl. Best let her get it out before you go back. Besides, an admirer has been waiting for you this half hour,” he said, pointing to a figure sitting on the front bench near the brazier. John.

  I nodded in thanks then hurried to him.

  “Good morning,” I called gaily, burying all feelings of worry.

  John rose to his feet. When he turned, a look of apology crossed his handsome features. He moved to meet me.

  “Miss McKenna,” he said, fully aware that we were in plain sight.

  “My Lord.”

  “Please accept my apologies. I am so sorry I was unable to stay last night,” he said then held out a bundle he carried: Frost Fair roses.

  “They are calling them Frost Fair roses. In Spain, they were pale purple. London’s ice has turned them blue. Please, accept them with my apologies.”

  I took the roses from his hand. The small bundle was a petite version of Kai’s gift but every bit as lovely. “Thank you,” I said with a curtsey, though my heart bid me to take him into my arms.

  “Just as I left you last night I was met with an urgent message. Word came that my father had taken a turn for the worse. I had to go at once. I returned later, but you were no longer here.”

  “Oh dear! How is your father?”

  “Elys—Miss McKenna, would you care to sit near the fire. It is quite cold,” he said, motioning toward the brazier.

  And if we sat, we may speak more freely. Our backs to the crowd, the tent drapes sheltering us from the common eye, we’d also go unrecognized.

  I nodded then we took our seats.

  Once our backs were turned, he took my hand in his then reached out to touch my hair. So surprised to see him, I’d forgotten that the icy whirlwind had teased it into a wild mess.

  “Oh dear,” I said, lifting a hand to brush my locks back. “I got caught in the wind.”

  “You look very beautiful,” he said. He took a lock of my pale hair between his fingers and stroked it gently. “I…I am so sorry I missed your show. You must have worried.”

  I nodded.

  John smiled, his cheeks dimpling. He reached out and touched my chin. “Pretty lady,” he said then smiled. “My father is a very proper man. We are not close, but I am his only son. My father doesn’t have modern sensibilities in many matters.” His meaning was plain. If there was an obstacle to our match, it was his father. “But my father is unwell. I do not expect him to last out the spring. I will inherit his title after him, then my path is my own. Elyse, I am sorry to ask this of you, but would you be willing to keep our mutual attachment quiet for a time longer until I can sort out the best course for us?”

  “Of course,” I said, feeling my heart beating hard in my chest.

  “It’s just my father…to him, our mutual fondness would be considered a scandal, and I fear my inheritance would be at stake if he knew how sincere my affections are toward you. He may do something rash. I’m sorry. This is such a serious talk so early in the morning. I just wanted to reassure you of my intent.”

  “John,” I whispered softly. “It’s all right. I understand.”

  He smiled, albeit sadly. “I hate the thought that you feel mistreated.”

  I shook my head. “Not at all. I know my heart has leaped above its station. I must follow your lead here.”

  John sighed heavily. “I hate that you think like that. Your heart has leaped into my hand, and for that, I am eternally grateful. You know how much I adore you,” he said with a soft whisper. Looking over his shoulder, and seeing no one save Harold nearby, he leaned in and set a sweet kiss on my lips. His mouth carried the taste of anise, which seemed unusual for this hour of the day, but I fell into his kiss all the same. My heart beat hard in my chest as I felt his hand undo the button on my coat near my waist. He slipped his hand inside my coat and gently stroked my waist, his fingers grazing the bottom of my breast.

  Gasping, I leaned back.

  “Elyse,” he groaned softly, leaning his forehead against mine.

  My emotions tumbled over themselves. The deep affection I held for him was undeniable. And the stirring between my legs made me ache, but I also felt…embarrassed. Would he touch a fine lady so? Maybe I was just being silly. He touched me like that because he felt as passionate for me as I felt for him.

  Not seeming to notice my confusion, he whispered, “I must apologize, but I have some business in the city today. When will you be free?”

  “There is a pantomime this morning, then we break and set up for the evening performance.”

  “Then I will be ba
ck around noon. Wait for me?”

  I nodded.

  “What part will you play this morning?” he asked, gently touching my chin once more.

  “Columbine fashioned as Persephone.”

  John clapped his hands in delight. “I will clear my schedule and be here for the show tomorrow morning.” He rose. “Let me get on with my affairs so I may return by midday.”

  “Thank you again,” I said, looking down at the Frost Fair roses.

  “They are beautiful, but nowhere near as lovely as you.” He put on his hat and with a soft smile, took his leave.

  I lifted the roses and tried to breathe in their scent. They carried no perfume. It was as if the smell had been arrested in ice.

  I sighed.

  Lady Waldegrave.

  That was certainly a title worth waiting for.

  Chapter 8: Of Pomegranates, Oil Cakes, and Bitter Chocolate

  As I approached the tent backstage, I heard Marion’s high-pitched tone matched in passion with Lizzie’s angry voice. Lizzie, from what I could tell, was beyond frustrated. When I rounded the corner, I found Marve standing between Lizzie and Marion while Hobbs, who would play Hades to my Persephone, stood in the background listening.

  “You’ve given Lizzie and Elyse the best parts in Midwinter. And now in the pantomime too. Given my years with the company, and my far superior talent to any actress in this troupe, it’s unfair,” Marion said.

  Her dark eyes flicked toward me. I could see her calculating, determining if I had heard her last comment. Deciding that I had, she smirked. “At least you could have given me Persephone,” she added then glared at me.

  Marve sighed then following Marion’s gaze.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  Lizzie, Marion, and Marve all spoke at once. And of course, it was the expected argument.

  The truth of the matter was that Marion was a very good actress. She was better than Amy and Hannah who were still more enthusiastic than talented. But she was not better than Lizzie. And she was not better than me. She was also the oldest woman in our company, and her roles reflected that.

  Marve raised his hands. “You know Elyse gets all the dancing parts. She is the only trained ballerina in our troupe.”

  “Trained by her grandmother, which hardly counts,” Marion protested.

  “My grandmother was a ballerina for—” I began in protest but was cut off.

  “We are at the Frost Fair but a week, maybe not even that long, before the Thames takes the river back. Can’t you, not even for one performance, give me a lead role?” Marion demanded angrily. But this time, I saw a flash behind her eyes. Certainly, she was jealous. But it was more than that. She truly found it unfair. And maybe it was. I might be a better dancer, and our presence on the stage was very different, but she was a very good actress.

  I opened my mouth to offer her the role of Persephone, but the words stuck in my throat. Hobbs, seeing me move to speak, shook his head. Offering it would have been the right, the generous, thing to do. But somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to give up the role. My chances to do ballet on stage were so few, and if managers for the other stages were at the fair, it would be my chance to shine. Ever since I stepped foot on stage, I had wanted to act for one of the big houses. Being part of a troupe at a more reputable house made me a more reputable woman, which was something I needed more than anything at the moment.

  Marion slammed down the faerie godmother’s wand then turned and headed deeper into the tent. “Ridiculous. All of you are ridiculous, talentless hacks. I have half a mind to quit!”

  Marve sighed heavily then pinched his brow.

  “You were right not to give in,” Hobbs told him. “If you give in now, she’ll try to pressure you every time.”

  “She’s terribly good at drama, but all we are staging is comedy,” Lizzie said.

  Marion played the darker ladies like Gertrude, Lady MacBeth, and the Duchess of Malfi. Drama was her specialty. But for the fair, Marve had planned only comedies to keep things light. Lizzie was right.

  Marve sighed once more. And this time, that sigh was pregnant with unspoken words. He turned and looked at me.

  “Elyse,” he began gently. “Marion cannot play the cinder girl. She is too old. But she has studied as Columbine and can play Persephone. Maybe, just this once, on account of the fair…”

  “Marve,” Hobbs exclaimed. “She doesn’t dance anywhere near as well as Elyse, and her timing for humor is off.”

  “True. But, as she said, we’ll be back to our playhouse in a week. And Elyse knows the faerie godmother lines. As well, you can wear Titania’s costume for the part. I’d rather return with a sullen and snobbish actress rather than have her leave our company.”

  I steeled myself against the frustration and jealousy that splashed up inside me. I strongly suspected that I was feeling exactly how Marion felt. “I can do what’s best for our troupe.”

  “This is poorly done,” Hobbs told Marve.

  “Maybe,” he said. “But it must be done. Thank you, Elyse.”

  I nodded then sat down on a barrel and started to pull my hair back into a braid while Marve went to find Marion.

  Hobbs shook his head in frustration then headed back to his section to get ready.

  “We don’t go on until after their set, and I’ve been smelling oil cakes all morning. Join me, faerie godmother?” Lizzie asked, extending her hand.

  I nodded. “After I get my hair in place.”

  “Are those more Frost Fair roses?” she asked, looking at the bundle in my hand.

  I grinned.

  “Would I get wooed as often as you. Your gentleman caller…I saw him waiting for you in the front. Handsome rake.”

  “Rake? On no. He is quite sincere, I assure you.”

  Lizzie lifted an eyebrow at me. The expression was charming. I remembered her using it on stage before. “Are you—please forgive me for asking—but are you certain? You know how some gentlemen look at us—”

  “Very certain.”

  “Oh!” Lizzie exclaimed, her other eyebrow joining the first in surprise. “Oh, that is good news. But what about Doctor Murray?”

  “What about him?”

  “I just thought…”

  “Heavens, no. He is like my brother.”

  Lizzie pursed her lips. “Well, if that’s the case.”

  I laughed. “He’s far too sullen for you.”

  She grinned. “I expected as much. What happened to your hair, anyway?”

  “A wind snarled it. Do you remember a gentleman at the show last night? You might have marked him. He wore a blue suit and coat. His hair was very pale blond, long, and not in the London fashion. He was very handsome.”

  Lizzie shook her head. “No. I don’t. But from the sound of it, I’m sorry I missed him.”

  “Perhaps he’ll be back today.” Odd. Lizzie always noticed the handsome attendees, which was, no doubt, how Kai had gotten her attention. Surly though he was, women always found his dark hair and hazel eyes very appealing.

  I finished tying off my braid then nodded to Lizzie that I was ready to go just as Marion appeared. Paying no attention to us, she was smiling at the ground. When she realized we were there, she quickly made her expression blank.

  “Have you been informed?” she asked, a smug look on her face.

  Informed? As if I had not acquiesced. Informed, indeed!

  Her cheeks flushing red with anger, Lizzie opened her mouth to speak, but I took her arm and squeezed it gently.

  “Yes, I have. You’ll find Persephone’s costume in my trunk.”

  Marion nodded, gave me a half-snort, then turned and walked toward my section.

  “Whey-faced adder,” Lizzie grumbled in her direction.

  I elbowed her gently in the ribs. “Forget her. Let’s go.”

  Lizzie and I turned back toward Freezeland Lane and headed out in the direction of the oil cake vendor. The thoroughfare was getting very crowded as even more London
ers joined the revelry on the ice. The scent of oil cakes perfumed the chilly air. We approached the vendor.

  “Ladies,” the vendor called happily. “How many?”

  “One for each of us,” Lizzie said.

  “Shall I add some snow?” he asked, motioning to some powdered sugar.

  At the mention of the sugar, I was reminded of the gentleman who’d fallen into the ice. I’d have to stop by and check on him later that day. I’m sure Kai would not be opposed to visiting the Hawkings’ workshop once more.

  “Oh, please,” Lizzie replied, eyeing the cake hungrily.

  Trading coins for the cakes, we moved back into the gathering crowd.

  “There is a tent two rows over where they are selling handbills to commemorate the fair. Let’s get one,” Lizzie said, directing me once more.

  Though it was still morning, the crowd was already beginning to pick up. Slender rays of sunlight shone down on the Thames. If it warmed up, the fair would be over before it started. This, of course, was good news to all the sailors trapped in the ice. But my troupe, and many other vendors, were set to make a fat stack of coins from the impromptu festivities.

  A small crowd gathered around a painter who had set up his easel and was painting one of the ships trapped in the ice. We passed vendor tents where frozen meats, fish, and other goods were for sale. One baker sold gingerbread. The scents of the baking bread, cinnamon, anise, and other spices wafted through the air. Children laughed loudly as a man swung them on a massive swing built from tall timbers frozen into the ice, the swing made from a sleigh. Four children sat laughing, their cheeks red, as those around cheered and waved to them as they swung. Not far from them, the usual debauchery also found its home at The Frozen Mushroom. I caught the scent of opium on the wind and noticed people sipping gin.

  The first day of the Frost Fair had seen mostly commoners on the ice. Now, however, I noted more fine ladies and gentlemen in the crowd. Perhaps this was why Marion was so insistent on having a larger role. She knew the audience would be of a better sort today. This also meant that at tonight’s performance I would have to play Titania with renewed vigor. I was suddenly sorry I’d let Marion take the role of Persephone. I rarely had a chance to show off my skills in ballet, and Marve had written the script for me for that express purpose. Tomorrow, I would insist on having my role back.