The Lady and the Wish

by J. M. Stengl

  I soon realized why: Everyone was in period costume—band members, servers, and guests. My spirits brightened. How fun! I adored anything retro—the clothing, music, and hairstyles of the past fascinated me. I guessed this theme to be from sixty years or so ago—the short skirts, bouffant hairstyles, and raucous music would be hard to mistake.

  Several old people, the only guests not in costume, clustered in chairs beside the dance floor. They chatted with the younger guests and each other, smiling and lively, though a few were in wheelchairs.

  A voice behind me snapped, “Excuse me!” I stepped aside to make way for a maid carrying a tray of drinks and hors d’oeuvres. She headed directly to the old people, who dug into them like starving teenagers. The old woman in the center—lean and wrinkled, with a prominent nose and a crown of stylishly cut white hair—thumped her cane on the floor and snapped out orders. Lady Beneventi, I guessed. Should I go to her or wait to be introduced? But who would introduce me? I was just a servant now.

  When the dance ended, a tall blond man hurried off the dance floor, approached me in the doorway, and bowed. “I’m Calvin, and I think I’m in love. May I have your next dance?” he asked, his face alight. I suppose the pickup line suited the party’s era, but it hadn’t aged well.

  Before I could think what to do, he took my hand and pulled me inside, over to one of the little tables. “I’m not sure I know these dances,” I protested as he helped me remove my jacket and hung it on the back of a folding chair. “And I’m really supposed to start my job and get settled in—”

  “Don’t be uptight, baby,” he drawled. “I’ll go request a slow dance. Back in a flash!” And he rushed over to the band.

  Just then, Manny entered the room, minus the sunglasses. I saw him scan the dance floor, and my heart began to pound. Was he looking for . . .? Yes, he was. As soon as that cold gaze located me, he headed in my direction.

  I glanced toward the dance floor, hoping Calvin might rescue me. But while the dancers began the promised slow dance, Calvin simply watched me. When our eyes met, he gave a little shrug.

  “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Lady Beneventi,” Manny said, barely pausing before he headed toward the cluster of old people.

  I followed on his heels, feeling too warm, terribly thirsty, and slightly weak in the knees. “Does she often host big social events like this?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  When he stopped short, I peered around his shoulder. The white-haired lady extended her hand to a young guest, who bowed over it. I heard her call him “Your Grace” before he moved on. A duke? I glanced back at the dancers. Were they all of the nobility? I didn’t recognize even one face.

  “Madam,” Manny was saying in a formal tone, “may I introduce your new companion, Lady Gillian Montmorency? She has just arrived today.” He turned to me. “Miss Montmorency, this is Lady Beneventi.”

  The old woman gave Manny a scornful glance. “Who’re you? You can’t be one of my guests in those clothes.” Then she gave me a withering scan. “Young woman, you are a hussy. That skirt is indecently short. Go change into something appropriate, then head to the kitchen and start serving my guests to earn your keep. Oh, and take Bacio down when you go.” She handed me the end of a leash, the other end of which disappeared beneath her wheelchair.

  She then turned her attention to another young guest with a mop of hair and ridiculous sideburns, who flattered her with absurd compliments while she smiled and fluttered like a debutante.

  I looked to Manny, who regarded me with a sardonic smile and handed me a bottle of water. How did he know I was thirsty? I drank it too quickly for good manners but felt better almost at once. I set the empty bottle among others on a nearby table, my indignation rising.

  “My skirt isn’t as short as theirs!” I indicated the girls on the dance floor.

  “She won’t remember you in ten minutes. Maybe two.” He took the leash from my hand. “I’ll take the dog out.” He squatted to pull a fluffy white creature from beneath the wheelchair.

  “What should I do?” I asked as he straightened. “Where’s my room?”

  He shrugged his big shoulders, the little dog clutched to his chest. “Enjoy the party? When I’m downstairs, I’ll ask a maid to show you around.”

  I nodded. The last thing I wanted was to seem dependent on a construction foreman or whatever he was. Yet I followed when he walked away. “Are you coming back?”

  He paused to look back at me, one brow arched. “Maybe.”

  I felt adrift when he entered the hall. The man had not improved on acquaintance, but he was the only person I knew here.

  “Hey, baby!”

  Or . . . maybe not the only person.

  Calvin rushed at me just as the band switched from the slow melody to a raucous tune. “Now’s our chance—since that uptight square’s split, we can hang loose!” He grasped my wrist and towed me onto the floor where the dancers were slinging their arms about and wriggling.

  “But I don’t know this dance,” I protested.

  “Don’t shoot me down, Red. The Swim is hip. I’ll teach you!” He swung his arms up and around, bobbing with the beat.

  It looked ridiculous but easy to do, so within a few minutes I was swimming about the dance floor with the crowd, holding my nose, sinking toward the floor, and laughing myself silly. All thoughts and concerns seemed to fade away, as if I had entered a dream or an alternate reality. I didn’t think to worry about Lady Beneventi or Manny or anything at all except dancing.

  After the Swim came a line dance called the Madison. I stood in the back row so I could watch the others and learn the steps, which turned out to be easy. To my surprise, every one of the old people tottered out on the floor to join us. The young dancers called them by their first names and even paired off with them, which I thought was sweet. Lady Beneventi danced with a tall blond fellow she called Salvestro, and he flirted with her as if she were my age!

  Matteo, a young man with messy brown hair, sideburns, and a funny mustache, claimed me for the Twist. Again, while we danced, I laughed aloud at the silliness and fun of it all. Nobody seemed to care if they made a mistake, so I didn’t worry about looking awkward. Two of the old people, a married couple, I gathered, joined in and put everyone to shame with their moves.

  I was so caught up in the party, in this taste of the past, that I nearly forgot who I was for a time. Calvin reclaimed me for the Hully Gully, which seemed to consist entirely of leaning back, shaking my shoulders, and dipping and swaying back and forth. “I can’t imagine why this dance lost its popularity,” I commented with a grin.

  Calvin looked surprised. “It’s bad where I come from, baby.” Which, I gathered from his inflection, meant the opposite. And when the other dancers closed their eyes and lived in that dance, it looked natural to them. I was probably just uptight, as yet another boy had informed me when I objected to being held too close during a slow dance.

  A girl wearing white boots laced higher than her knees asked, “Where’d you find those little boots?”

  “I bought them online,” I answered, panting.

  Her brows rose high, and she gave me a vague smile. “Far out!” She moved away, dancing like a limp ragdoll.

  Did she think shopping online was too common? Whatever!

  In the middle of another slow dance, this time with the young duke, Agostino, I began to suspect that the sense of time warp might not be my imagination. Something about the party felt weird, almost uncanny—I would have thought someone had slipped me a drug, but I’d had only water to drink all day. My feet didn’t hurt, which made no sense—they should be a mass of bleeding blisters after all this dancing in my silly boots. Several times when I tried to escape for a breather the other dancers begged me to stay and pulled me back in, even the girls with their bouffant hair and shapeless dresses shorter than my skirt. They didn’t want me to leave the dance floor. But why?

  I have no idea how long I’d been dancing when Manny stepped
onto the floor, tapped Calvin on the shoulder to cut in, then took my hand and led me off to one side, where he paused to face me.

  “Don’t glare; you said I should enjoy the party,” I protested, reclaiming my hand. “And then they wouldn’t let me go.”

  His grim expression wavered. “I know. I’ve been watching. But you should accompany Lady Beneventi to her suite before sunset.” At his indicating glance, I realized the sunlight pouring through the west-facing windows now climbed the opposite walls.

  “Why?” I asked, feeling combative. Who was he to take charge? “What’s the great rush?”

  “You’ll soon find out. Say your goodbyes but make it quick.” He turned away, looked back to say, “Good luck,” and then, as if irked with himself, stalked away.

  Breathless, annoyed, and very much off balance, I turned to meet Calvin’s wistful gaze. The guy’s eyes looked kind of swimmy. Not good! I really needed to sit down.

  “Must you leave?” he sighed.

  “Yes, I’m under orders.”

  “I rather hoped you might come with us, but I guess that’s impossible.”

  “Come where?” Nobody had mentioned going anywhere. “Never mind. I have to work anyway.”

  He only smiled, bowed over my hand, and kissed it. So did several of the other young men and two of the old ones. The girls all smiled at me like old friends, and one of the old ladies with a strong Auversian accent said she hoped to see me at another party soon. “It’s good to have new blood in the crowd,” she assured me.

  Everyone looked rather sad. I noticed that the young people’s handshakes were cool and dry. None of them appeared sweaty or breathless, while I was about ready to drop. When the band started up another tune, everyone swarmed back onto the floor.

  With one exception: A young maid pushed Lady Beneventi’s wheelchair toward the door. The old lady put up a fuss and begged her friends to rescue her, but the guests, young and old, merely waved goodbye and continued dancing.

  This was the strangest party I had ever seen. Why remove the hostess? I didn’t dare ask, just followed the wheelchair across the sitting area and down the wide hall to the right. “That is the elevator,” the maid informed me as we passed an ornately carved door. “You may use it only when in Lady Beneventi’s company.”

  Nice, I thought.

  “You might have let me stay to the end, girl,” Lady Beneventi grumbled as her chair rolled along. “It’s not as if I don’t know when the party ends.” She turned halfway around and looked me up and down. “Where did you come from anyway?”

  “I arrived today. I’m your new companion.”

  “Like fun you are,” she snapped, and faced front, her shoulders stiff.

  When we reached a large door at the very end of the hall, I held it open while the maid rolled the chair through. More evening sunlight poured through the west-facing windows, revealing a cluttered room with a high ceiling.

  “Are you hungry, my lady?” the maid asked.

  “I’ve been eating all afternoon. What do you think? Not everyone eats as much as you do, girl.” Her voice cut like a knife. “I’m tired to the bone. Get Maria. Oh, there you are.”

  A grim-faced woman in a floor-length robe emerged from a side room, appeared to float toward us, took over the wheelchair, and disappeared with the old lady through another door.

  “Who was that?” I asked, feeling decidedly unsettled.

  “Maria is Lady B’s private nurse. She came here in May, I think, after Giovanna—she was Lady B’s old nurse—died. We all think Maria’s weird, but she takes good care of the mistress and keeps to herself. I don’t envy you, having to work in here with her around.”

  After that disconcerting comment, she proceeded to show me around. “Maria sleeps in there”—she pointed at the side doorway— “and that’s Lady B’s bedroom. She has a private bath with a shower, and we guess Maria shares it, since she never uses the hall bath. This is the sitting room.” She waved a hand at our surroundings, which were crowded with knickknacks and furniture, including a grand piano. “And there’s a balcony through those doors, with sunset views, like now.”

  I stepped forward to peer through the balcony doors. A swimming pool shimmered to my left, and a beautiful tree-lined garden lay below. Beyond a low wall, the hillside appeared to drop off into more terraced gardens with vineyards below, all surrounded by rolling hills dotted with houses and trees. I paused to watch the sun sink into . . . “Is that the Begaian Sea?”

  “Yes, but it’s farther away than it looks. The sunsets are always spectacular.” Her tone was bland. “Oh, you’ll need to bring Bacio back upstairs so she can tell him goodnight.”

  “Who is Bacio?”

  “The dog. He’s probably downstairs in his kennel.”

  “Where is his kennel?”

  “In a room off the kitchen. I’ll take you. C’mon.” She beckoned, and I followed her into the hall. The lights were on, but after that sunset, everything looked shadowed and dull.

  “That’s the door to your room—” the maid indicated the first door on our left, then pointed to the door almost directly opposite “—and that’s the bathroom.”

  When we reached the small sitting area, I stopped short. The doors to the gallery were shut, and everything was quiet and deserted. “Are all the party guests gone already?” I asked.

  “Looks that way.”

  “Impossible.” I hurried to check for myself. The door creaked open, and I stared at an empty room. Evening light revealed scattered chairs and sofas in a few cozy seating areas, all empty. No servers were clearing away food or taking down tables, and the bandstand was vacant. A cluster of chairs where the old people had gathered beside the dance floor was the only indication that a party had ever taken place.

  I tried to think, but my brain wouldn’t cooperate. “How long were we in Lady Beneventi’s room?” I called over my shoulder.

  “Twenty minutes, maybe? If you’re coming, get a move on.”

  I hurried to rejoin her, but my thoughts raced as I followed her down the stairs. Okay, so maybe cleaning up after a party was a snap. I’d never done it, so how would I know? But it made no sense to me that all those guests, the band, and the servers had packed up and departed in under twenty minutes.

  “We have to use the main staircase now because they installed the elevator where the servants’ stair used to be,” the maid informed me. “There’s another set at the end of the other hall, but it just leads to the laundry area. This house wasn’t designed to be practical, that’s for certain.”

  In the entry hall, the maid headed for a door on our right, but I ran to a front window and peered out at the driveway. It was entirely empty but for the fountain in the middle. Manny’s car was gone. Only then did I realize that no cars had been in the drive when we arrived. Perhaps the guests had parked behind the house?

  Feeling slightly freaked, I hurried after the maid but didn’t say a word.

  When we entered the kitchen, a woman was wiping down the counters to the whoosh and clatter of an automatic dishwasher. “Do you need something?” she asked, her expression distantly pleasant.

  “The dog,” I said.

  “His kennel is through that door.” She pointed. “You’d be wise to take him outside before you carry him up, then take him out again when you bring him down.”

  “I have to bring him back down?”

  “If you leave him up there all night,” the maid spoke up, “you’ll clean up the mess on your own.”

  I gave her a cold stare. “That is not happening.”

  She raised a challenging brow. “Try it and see.”

  I opened my mouth to put the twit in her place, but the cook spoke first. “Don’t bait her, Alessandra. Lady Beneventi will be asleep before nine o’clock. Just go into her room and take the dog off the bed.”

  “I . . . I’m not good with dogs,” I admitted. “What if he won’t let me pick him up?”

  “Throw a blanket over him and carry him down t
hat way,” the maid said. “He’s a spoiled-rotten little beast.”

  I nodded and paused. I wanted to ask them about the party but wasn’t sure what to say, so I didn’t. They started talking about something else anyway.

  The dog growled at me when I opened his kennel and clipped the leash to his collar, but he came along willingly when I led him to the glass-paned back door.

  We stepped outside into a scented hush, and I almost forgot about the dog. I had never cared much about scenery, but this was exceptional. The sky was dark and filled with stars. Streaks of orange and pink still marked the horizon, and those tall trees made sharp silhouettes against the color.

  Taking the dog upstairs was a trial. Manny had tucked him under one arm, but he growled and showed his teeth whenever I reached for him. I didn’t have a blanket on hand, so that advice didn’t help much. “Fine. You’ll have to walk the whole way,” I snapped.

  The tiny beast was exhausted and less obnoxious by the time we made it back to the suite. Lady Beneventi was sitting up in her enormous four-poster bed. “What took you so long? It’s halfway to morning, you lazy floozy. Put him up here with me.”

  I reached warily for the dog, but he made no protest as I lifted him onto the counterpane, where he curled up.

  “Now go away,” the old lady said. When she lay back on the pillow, her hair kept moving for a short time afterward. There must be a draft in the room.

  According to the maid, I had until nine o’clock, about one hour, before I needed to collect the dog. I finally entered my room, pausing a moment to stare at its furnishings: a padded gold-fabric headboard on an immense white platform bed with a giant mirror on the ceiling, gold cabbage-rose wallpaper, white drapes and carpeting, and unadorned white furniture. The effect was startling, to say the least. But despite its evident age, everything smelled clean and fresh.