by Maggie Hoyt
The boys stood up and slunk away, giving me dirty looks as they went. Not one of them, I noticed, had anything else to say to Fan. Roompilda had probably told them this would be an easy conquest.
I resisted the urge to find Roompilda in the crowd. I could well imagine her tight-lipped, cross expression, and it was altogether too soon for me to gloat. I held my arms out to Fan, who looked like she had avoided crying for as long as possible.
“Let’s go home,” I whispered.
CHAPTER TEN
“IS SHE ALL right?” Maribelle asked. She’d rushed over the morning after the party.
“She’s … shaken up,” I said. “She certainly wasn’t expecting all that.”
“I don’t blame her! That was so inappropriate, proposing like that in public!”
“She only met them a few weeks ago.”
“Is that what was in the message?” Maribelle asked. “The one from the pigeon?”
I nodded. “More or less. The queen sent Roompilda to make sure Fan married one of those three.”
“But that’s not fair! That’s not romantic at all! Everyone’s saying it was so romantic that they all proposed to her, but it wasn’t! Romantic should have flowers, and candles, and it should feel special. Not a fight at a party.”
“Yes, well, that’s why I had to make up that whole bit about laughing. Everyone would have hated her if she’d said no, and I certainly wouldn’t have let her say yes.”
“So … she isn’t cursed, then? Because I have noticed she’s been down lately …”
“What? No! She has been down, but not because she’s cursed. I suspect she’s tired of being treated like a pawn.”
Actually, Fan had looked at the whole event very differently than I had.
“How could they? How could they do that to me?” she’d cried, as soon as we were safely home. “I can’t believe they would make fun of me like that!”
“Make fun of you?”
“Staging that fight with everyone watching, those fake proposals. Thinking that I would get excited, when everyone knew they didn’t really like me. Oh God, it’s like being fourteen all over again!”
“Wait, this happened when you were fourteen? But you had a lot of friends.”
“I didn’t have a dad. I didn’t really have friends. Everyone was catty and mean, and so was I, because if I could find them someone else to pick on, it was more like I was in the popular circle.”
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I had no—”
“It’s not your fault, Mom. It’s not like I ever let you help, anyway. I’m just saying, I know those boys are trying to embarrass me.”
“I … don’t think they are, love.”
“It’s okay, Mom. You don’t have to sugarcoat it.”
“No, Fan, I … I found out that Roompilda has been talking to all three families. From the beginning. She was never here to train you, sweetheart. She was here to get you married to one of them.” I left out the details of how I got the information.
“What? So—the queen didn’t send her?”
“No, Her Majesty definitely sent her.”
“But I thought this was all so I could visit Ella at court!”
“Yes. But with your husband, whose family is probably valuable to Aiden.”
Fan was beginning to tremble, her body shaking with the effort of keeping all that fury inside.
“But the queen can’t actually make you marry anyone. We have laws.”
“Then what will she do if I don’t pick one?” Fan said, hesitation creeping into her voice.
I shrugged.
“But she’ll be really angry, won’t she?”
“I suppose she might, but there’s not something she can do to you. She can’t put you in jail.”
“She won’t just let it go.”
“Well, if we go visit Ella, I suppose she might be irritable toward us, but …”
“Could she make it so we can’t see Ella?” Fan asked quietly.
“No,” I said immediately. She couldn’t stop Ella from seeing her own family. “I don’t think she would do that.”
“But she could,” Fan said. “She’s the queen. She can decide who gets to visit the palace. And Ella wouldn’t disobey her. That was probably a hint, when she mentioned Ella in the letter to me! That’s what she’ll do, if I don’t pick one of them!” The pitch of Fan’s voice was rising, and she wavered on the verge of tears.
“Fan, don’t panic. I’m sure if you married any nobleman of good station who could be a good ally to Aiden, the queen would see reason.”
“Do you know what’s really sad?” she said.
“What?”
“I think Ethan was going to propose to me.”
“Wait, really?”
“Well, not soon, obviously, but I just think eventually he was going to work up the courage.”
“But Fan, Ethan would be a great choice! The queen probably doesn’t know about him, but if she did, she’d have to approve of him.”
“But what if she didn’t?”
“Fan, just please don’t make a decision yet. This is your whole life—”
“My whole life without Ella,” she whispered.
“Fan,” I started, but before I could even try to reason with her, she ran crying from the room.
I sighed. I just couldn’t imagine the queen would be so cruel as to force Fanchon and Ella apart. Then again, I wouldn’t have expected she would try to manipulate Fan into marrying someone. Could Fan be right? Would the queen cut us off over this? No, I thought, I couldn’t believe it—I couldn’t allow myself to think it. We had to have a way out without losing Ella because I wouldn’t let Fan marry one of those three fools. Not in a million years.
“All right. If you’re sure she isn’t cursed …,” Maribelle said.
“I’m sure.”
“Two curses is a lot for one person.” That seemed to be all Maribelle had to say about Fan. She was suddenly uncharacteristically quiet, sipping her tea and refusing to make eye contact.
“Is something wrong?” I said, which was the kindest way I could think of to tell her to spit it out.
Maribelle looked immediately guilty. “Oh, it’s nothing! Except you did promise to tell me everything …”
“Oh. Right. Well, it’s not that exciting,” I began, trying to lower expectations, but Maribelle practically quivered, like a puppy wagging its tail.
“I’m thinking about—and I haven’t made up my mind yet, I’m just thinking about it—I’m considering starting a business to help young people find their fairy godmothers.”
“Really?” Fan said, poking her head into the room.
“Hi, Fanchon!” Maribelle said. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Fine,” she said quickly. “How are you going to do that?” she asked me.
“Well, I was thinking about how often people around here come up with these ridiculous fairy story tasks—like Clarrie Babcock having to spin straw into gold—but we never have any fairy godmothers anymore. And maybe that’s because we don’t teach young people the things that the fairies value.”
“So you would train young people to be kind and honorable and hardworking like the heroes in the stories?” Fan said.
Maribelle gasped. “That’s an amazing idea, Evelyn! It’s genius! Oh, everyone will want you to help them!”
“Well, I don’t know about that. But it seems to me that sometimes people have problems that could be better fixed by fairy godmothers than, say, lawsuits. Anyway, I’m just thinking about this. I haven’t officially registered a business or anything. But I did agree to help the Babcocks.”
“I wondered if you were up to something,” Fan said.
“And all I’m doing,” I said, building up to my biggest lie yet, “is making sure that Clarrie has done all she can to convince Lord Piminder that he should let her and Terence get married. I figure the fairies need a chance to find out that he’s standing in the way of true love.”
“I
s that why you had dinner with him?”
“Oooooh! You had dinner?” Maribelle said.
“No, well, I needed—I needed him to do it right. He just wanted Clarrie to have it done by the end of the summer. I needed him to set a date so the fairies would know when to show up. Since he seemed to take a liking to me at the Courtenays, I thought …”
“You would seduce him!” Maribelle exclaimed.
“No. Absolutely not. No, no, no, no. I just wanted a chance to make a suggestion. And he did pick a date. Now I’m just concerned—from what Clarrie was telling me, it sounds like Terence might be getting cold feet.”
“But if he doesn’t want to marry her, then it isn’t true love anymore, and then the fairies won’t come!” Maribelle said.
“But the Babcocks owe Lord Piminder a lot of money,” I said. “They were hoping a marriage would solve the problem, but if it doesn’t happen, well, Lord Piminder will still definitely send the Babcocks to the poorhouse.”
And I’ll have lost my leverage. True love wasn’t just important to the fairies—it mattered to the throngs of women I wanted standing outside the Babcocks’ barn when Clarrie emerged. The same women, I was sure, who’d watched Fanchon’s three-pronged proposal yesterday.
“Is that what Clarrie wanted to tell you yesterday?” Maribelle asked.
“Yes,” I said, puzzled. “How did you …”
“Well, after you and Roompilda deserted me and Lord Piminder at the croquet field, Clarrie came and asked where you were. She said she’d seen you over there, and she needed to talk to you, and asked where you’d gone.”
Oh no. “In front of Lord Piminder? Did she ask him or just you?”
“No, she asked us both.”
“He’ll know,” Fanchon said.
“He’ll suspect, at least.”
“What? No! I’m sure he has no idea you’re working for Clarrie Babcock! I was there, and I didn’t guess. I had no idea until you told me!” Maribelle said.
Fan and I gave each other a look. Suddenly, we heard a pounding at the door, and all three of us flinched.
After a few seconds, Mina peeked around the corner. “Right, ma’am, I know this isn’t exactly protocol, but there’s a Miss Babcock here and she’s really upset—”
“Bring her in! Come in, Clarrie!” I called.
Clarrie entered the drawing room in a state. Her eyes were puffy, like she’d cried herself to sleep, but at this point, she was much too tense to keep bawling. She’d clearly rushed here. Her dress looked a little crumpled, and a few curls stuck out at odd angles, as though she’d slept in her updo from yesterday and hadn’t touched a brush yet.
“He moved the date up,” she said. “I’ve got to produce the gold in five days!”
Five days? Oh, he knew. Damn. I wasn’t close to having enough brass. I’d be up all night for the next few days just to get it done. And if he suspected anything, I couldn’t cut corners—my fake gold had to be pretty convincing.
“But that’s all right, Clarrie,” Fan said. “I’m sure your fairy godmother can handle a bit of a rush job.”
“Do you think she knows? I mean, my fairy godmother knows I need help, right?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “The whole town knows. And they’re on your side! I bet you’ll have quite a lot of people there to support you when you present the gold.”
“But—”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“But I don’t think Terence wants to marry me anymore!”
“Oh, Clarrie! I’m sure he’ll change his mind when he sees that your fairy godmother helped you spin straw into gold!” Maribelle said.
I frowned. That was the problem with these stories—any man who changed his mind about you simply because you could spin gold and spit diamonds and rubies wasn’t going to hold up in the long run. On the other hand, marriage at least meant the Piminders would essentially get the Babcock estate. It was one of my only bargaining chips, but I couldn’t in good conscience advise Clarrie to marry Terence.
“Maybe, Lady Frandsen,” Clarrie said. “But after the way he’s acted, I’m not at all sure I want to marry him! See? It’s not about true love anymore! And if the fairies don’t help me, Lord Piminder will take away our home!”
“Clarrie, I’m sure the fairies—” I started without knowing how I would end that sentence. So marriage was off the table—the one thing I was pretty sure these fairies cared about. But I’d told the Babcocks I was going to get Clarrie’s fairy godmother to fix this. I had to deliver, right? I couldn’t say, ‘Look, forget the fairies. They only care about marriage. You’ll have to contest this in court, which will probably just get you into more debt.’ I still needed to spin this into a fairy tale.
“But you’d still marry him if it meant you’d save your family, right?” Fanchon spoke up softly.
Clarrie was silent for a moment, frowning like she’d had to swallow something nasty. Then she nodded.
“Well, there!” Fan said. “It is still about true love, just for your parents, not Terence! If you’re willing to make a sacrifice for your family, I’m sure your fairy godmother will still help you. She might even help you more! You might have enough gold to pay off the entire debt, and then you wouldn’t have to marry Terence at all!”
Right, definitely not that last part. Not without a bigger oven. And some vats of lye. But I had to hand it to Fan—she knew exactly how to turn this into a fairy tale. Now I just needed to convince Lord Piminder it was in his best interest to forgive the Babcocks’ debt for absolutely nothing in return. Why, exactly, had I gotten myself into all this?
At that moment, Mina skipped back into the room. “A message for you, madam. The messenger is waiting for a response.”
I opened the folded card. My mouth twisted into a scowl as I read, and when I glanced up, I saw all four women staring at me.
“It’s from Lord Piminder,” I said. Maribelle gave an audible gasp. “He regrets that I had to leave our croquet game so suddenly and wonders if I would luncheon with him today.”
“Augh-hah!” Maribelle wailed in a mini-swoon.
“So he definitely knows you were working with Clarrie,” Fanchon said.
“Oh God, this is all my fault!” Clarrie cried. “That’s why he pushed the date up so suddenly. I didn’t even think about why you might be playing croquet with him! Oh, I’m such a fool!”
“I don’t like this, Mom. What’s he planning? Where does he want to meet you?”
“His estate.”
“Well, you can’t do that, madam,” Mina said. “If you meet him at his house, he’s in a position of power. You’ve got to go for a neutral location.”
I was beginning to think Mina was wasted as a ladies’ maid.
“Mina’s right, Mom. Tell him you’ll meet him in a public place. If he’s angry, this could be dangerous.”
“Eep!” Maribelle squealed.
“God, I’m so sorry,” Clarrie wailed. “I’m so sorry. I’m an imbecile!”
“It’s not going to be dangerous,” I said. “Just uncomfortable.”
Then what should I do? Mina was right—from a negotiating standpoint, I had less standing on his turf. But in a public place, we’d be overheard, and all anyone could glean from this was that I’d led Lord Piminder on. I could hear Henry: “Evie, maybe, just maybe, this is a good example of why we probably shouldn’t practice deceit. It’s just a thought.”
“While I see Mina’s point, I think I have to go to him. If we’re in public, we’ll be overheard, and I don’t think it helps Clarrie for people to know I’ve been lying to Lord Piminder.”
Except, part of me wanted to insist, were you really lying? To your dismay, you actually enjoyed his company. But you definitely hid your relationship with Clarrie from him, I countered. You’re going to have to face up to it.
“At least put it off, ma’am!” Mina said. “Tell him you’ll see him tomorrow. That’s what I always do when a boy asks me out, so he doesn’t think I like
him too much.”
I considered it. It’s a way to take some control back, I thought. On the other hand, if he’s got something else up his sleeve, I want as much time to prepare as possible. Four days wasn’t a very long time.
“I think I’d better get it over with,” I said. “Tell the messenger I accept.”
A few hours later, I was walking up the path to the Piminder estate, and I couldn’t help feeling I was walking into an ambush unarmed. Name any rule of negotiations—I was breaking it. I’d let him choose the time and place, I’d lost what few bargaining chips I had, and I was going in with no preparation or research. I could see my professors shaking their heads.
However, when his servant ushered me into the study, I had to suppress a grin. Oh, there was a table set up near the window, ready for a charming luncheon overlooking the garden, but it was painfully obvious what he was trying to do. If he thought I could be intimidated by some bookshelves, a mounted buck’s head, and a masculine color theme, perhaps I had more going for me than I thought.
He rose from his desk and greeted me with a gracious bow. He pulled out a chair for me at the table and sat opposite, showing no signs of suspicion. Was it possible he hadn’t connected the dots? Don’t be wishful, Evelyn. You can’t let down your defenses.
“I was very sorry you had to rush off so quickly after—what was her name?”
“Roompilda. Yes, she’s had plans for my daughter the whole Season. When she took off I knew I had to see what she was up to. Turned out she’d arranged for three rich fools to propose to my daughter.”
“My goodness. You know, an interesting thing happened after you left. Clarrie Babcock came looking for you.”
“Yes, I know. She found me.”
“Ah. Did she have anything interesting to tell you?”
“Oh, not particularly.” I certainly wasn’t going to admit that Clarrie’d had quite enough of his son.
“I wasn’t aware you knew Miss Babcock.”
“Somewhat. Not particularly well.”
“Well enough to advise her on how to infringe on my rights as a creditor? As a father?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m advising her on how to get help from her fairy godmother. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”