Cold Hearted

by Serena Valentino

  Mrs. Bramble took the dress Lady Hackle had left and hung it on the outside of the wardrobe. “You realize what she’s up to, don’t you? There is a gentleman here she wants you to meet. It’s all the talk downstairs. This entire party was planned so she could match the two of you, and I have to say, my lady, I don’t approve.” Mrs. Bramble took these liberties in the way she spoke to Lady Tremaine because she had worked for the family since Lady Tremaine was a little girl. But Lady Tremaine wondered how Mrs. Bramble would react to her new plan to run a tighter ship. She knew Avery would be on board—he was a by-the-numbers sort of man—but how would Mrs. Bramble handle it?

  Lady Tremaine realized Mrs. Bramble had continued talking while she drifted off into her own thoughts. She was still going on about this mysterious man Lady Hackle wanted her to meet.

  “No one has heard of him. He’s not from these parts. They say he’s royalty from some distant land who is looking for a new wife.”

  Lady Tremaine was intrigued but didn’t let Mrs. Bramble know. “And what happened to his old wife, then?” she asked, trying to make light of the serious atmosphere in the room.

  “Well, she died, of course.” Mrs. Bramble scoffed. “There are wild stories about the land where he’s from. They call it the Many Kingdoms. Oh, you should hear the tales, my lady! Mothers there often die mysteriously and well before their time, and these widowers always replace them with new wives who themselves meet a terrible fate.” Mrs. Bramble’s eyes were wide and her lips pursed. Lady Tremaine couldn’t tell if Mrs. Bramble was angry or worried. Her eyes were full of concern, but her lips looked as if she was on the warpath. Perhaps she was both. “I won’t have my lady bundled off to distant lands where stepmothers are reviled!”

  Lady Tremaine knew what this was about. She had been her nanny, and then her mother’s lady’s maid, so she looked at Lady Tremaine almost like a daughter.

  “Well, I don’t intend to be bundled off anywhere, Mrs. Bramble, and as for these stories you’ve heard, must I remind you how foolish and bored some of these servants in the country can be? What else is there to do but weave hysterical tales about places they’ve never visited for themselves?”

  Mrs. Bramble laughed. “I dare say they have their jobs to do,” she said, but Lady Tremaine wondered. She imagined a bit of gossip downstairs was just the sort of thing the servants looked forward to.

  “Well, I won’t hear any more of this nonsense!” she said. She was becoming impatient and wanted to drop the subject, but Mrs. Bramble seemed to be bursting with more to say. “Oh, out with it then! I dare say you might explode if you don’t share what’s on your mind, Mrs. Bramble.” She let a laugh escape, because it was all starting to sound ridiculous.

  “This isn’t a funny matter, my lady. You should hear the stories they tell downstairs: stepmothers being chased off cliffs and their souls being trapped in mirrors. One child’s guardian was thrown from a tower, and another was slaughtered by the man who married her daughter! The Many Kingdoms is not a safe place.”

  Lady Tremaine wondered if the servants weren’t just winding up poor Mrs. Bramble. “Those sound like fairy stories to me, Mrs. Bramble. And when by the way did you have time to hear all these stories? You came directly here to unpack my things.”

  Mrs. Bramble took a book from her large carpetbag. “They aren’t fairy stories, my lady. They are witch stories. True stories all recorded by foul witches who meddle in the lives of unsuspecting women.” Mrs. Bramble looked desperate, and it became clear to Lady Tremaine something might be amiss with her lady’s maid. She was, after all, quite old and would sometimes go on about odd things, but Lady Tremaine had never seen her get this worked up before.

  “I see, Mrs. Bramble,” she said, feeling a bit sad because she feared it might be time for Mrs. Bramble to retire. Of course, if it was best to replace Mrs. Bramble, Lady Tremaine would arrange a lovely cottage for her where she could live out her retirement, but she hadn’t expected to have to make this decision during what was supposed to be her holiday away from household concerns.

  “Here, my lady, take this and read it.” Mrs. Bramble held up the book. “All the signs are there. You are just the sort of woman to fall into one of these stories. Beautiful, rich, sweet, and kind, tragically lost her husband too soon. But something will change; you will change. I don’t know if it’s the Many Kingdoms or the witches, but something causes the stepmothers in these stories to transform into horrible people. And it’s not just the stepmothers; it’s anyone these witches choose to meddle with.”

  Lady Tremaine sighed. “And what makes you think these witches will choose to meddle with me, my dear Mrs. Bramble? What do they know of me, living all the way in London so far away from these Many Kingdoms? What could these witches possible want with Lady Tremaine?”

  Mrs. Bramble cackled, almost like she herself was a witch. “How am I to know the hearts and minds of witches? They’re foul creatures, witches are, and I won’t let my lady be dragged into their story!”

  Lady Tremaine could see that Mrs. Bramble was becoming even more agitated and was about to say something more, but she was tired of having this conversation and decided it was best if the old woman thought she believed her.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bramble. I will read the book, but I must insist you take the remainder of the evening to rest in your room. Do you understand? You’re very worked up, and as much as I appreciate your devotion and care, I can’t have you exhausting yourself.”

  Mrs. Bramble tried to protest. “But what of this evening, my lady? Who will help you dress?”

  Lady Tremaine sighed. The old woman seemed to have forgotten about Rebecca.

  “I suppose Rebecca will help me, just for this one evening, while you take a much-needed break. We might arrange a little holiday for you once we get back to London. Doesn’t that sound nice? Is there anyone you’d like to visit? You haven’t seen your sister in a while.”

  Mrs. Bramble was still clutching the book, squeezing it so tightly Lady Tremaine thought she might actually break her brittle fingers. “Here, let me take that from you, Mrs. Bramble. I promise to read it. Think about where you’d like to have your holiday, and I’ll make all the arrangements.” Lady Tremaine pulled the cord hanging near the fireplace mantel to summon a maid, who showed up within moments. Lady Tremaine loved how efficiently Lady Hackle ran her household.

  “Hello, dear,” Lady Tremaine said. “Could you please take Mrs. Bramble to her room and have someone bring her tea and later her dinner on a tray? She isn’t feeling well.”

  “I don’t want to be any trouble or make more work for the cook or other servants.” Mrs. Bramble was fussing. “They have enough to do with the party this evening.”

  “Nonsense,” said Lady Tremaine. “They won’t mind, will they, dear?”

  The maid smiled. “We won’t mind at all,” she said gently, being kind to the old woman. “Come now, Mrs. Bramble, let me show you to your room.”

  Seeing Mrs. Bramble walk out of the room with the young maid made her look even older in Lady Tremaine’s eyes. She hadn’t realized how very old her lady’s maid had become, and she suddenly felt rather foolish for not having seen it before.

  “You rest, Mrs. Bramble. And I’ll be very disappointed if I hear you haven’t.”

  Mrs. Bramble gave her lady a weak smile. “Yes, my lady. Don’t you worry about old Mrs. Bramble. I’ll be right as rain again tomorrow. Just remember what I said.”

  Lady Tremaine smiled at the old woman. “I’ll remember. Now go, and don’t leave that bed until you are fully restored,” she said as the women walked out of the room.

  When she had gone, Lady Tremaine rang the bell to summon another maid, then sat on the bed with a sigh. She had come to the country to relax, not contend with antics such as these. She briefly wondered how Anastasia and Drizella were doing, but before she could get up to write them a quick letter, there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in.” This time it was a tall, lanky girl, a
ll arms and legs. “Yes, could you please let Lady Hackle know I will need Rebecca to help me dress this evening? Thank you, dear.”

  The young maid nodded and skittered out of the room, awkwardly mumbling something as she left. Lady Tremaine shook her head. She realized the dressing gong had already sounded while she had been talking with Mrs. Bramble, and now it looked like she might be late.

  Perhaps it’s best I don’t impress this gentleman from dangerous lands, she thought, laughing to herself.

  Lady Tremaine needn’t have worried about arriving late to dinner. Rebecca dressed her and did her hair with dexterous skill and speed, and she descended in time for dinner after all.

  The guests gathered in a large, beautiful room. Two crystal chandeliers holding white candles cast a lovely glow on everyone assembled, catching on jewelry and sequins and causing everything to glitter. Lady Tremaine always found the ladies in these circles amusing. To her they looked like vibrant, exotic birds decked out in all their finery, in contrast to the gentlemen in their black tails. Lady Tremaine preferred the way of actual birds, the male birds with their colorful plumage and the lady birds in their somber browns and blacks.

  She had gotten used to mourning-period clothes. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to progress to purple until this evening, and that was only to make her friend happy. So tonight she, too, felt like one of the lady birds, glittering and showy, and she wasn’t sure how that made her feel. It suddenly seemed very audacious to be wearing purple. But she quickly reasoned it was the customary transition color between black and more vibrant colors after the mourning period, and Lady Hackle was probably right. It had been six years; it was time to move on.

  Lady Tremaine didn’t quite know what to do with herself. Some of the guests were milling around the room chatting with each other, while others were sitting in little groups on the velvet chairs and love seats having lively conversations. She didn’t quite feel like herself in the dress her friend had picked out for her. She told herself she wasn’t betraying her husband’s memory by wearing it.

  Though the mourning period was long over, she still felt her clothing should reflect her loss and heartbreak. She tried to ignore the tiny twinge that told her she was ready to find love again, even though it shone within her like the sparkling gray crystals that decorated the bodice of her dress and the matching necklace, earrings, and bracelet Lady Hackle had lent her that evening.

  Then a delightful feeling came over her: she suddenly realized it was precisely because she didn’t feel like herself that she indeed felt beautiful that evening.

  Rebecca had done a remarkable job on her hair, and it did look fetching with the dress Lady Hackle had picked out for her. She fancied the crystals on her dress lent a glint to the hints of silver in her hair. She wasn’t a young woman, but she didn’t feel she was old enough for her hair to be quite so streaked with silver. This evening, for some reason, she liked the way she looked. It made her feel stately, as if the silver was a badge of wisdom, and perhaps even of her heartbreak. It had only begun to show in the years since her husband had passed away.

  She felt that she had acquired a lot of new things since her husband died. The most surprising, though it shouldn’t have been, was that her little girls were now almost young women. They seemed to transform overnight, though it felt like only a few short months ago that they were just little things running around the house, tormenting their nanny or stealing treats from the cook and then hiding in the pantry to eat their plunder.

  And then she remembered the evenings where she would sit with them until they fell asleep, crying themselves into exhaustion because they missed their father so much. Anastasia and Drizella had cried so many tears for their father, there had been no room for her own. Lady Tremaine had to be strong for her girls and do whatever she could to make them happy again. Her heart ached a little for those days. She wondered if it had been a good idea to leave them in London, but she knew if they were going to learn their lesson, it was the right thing to do, though she hoped keeping them at home hadn’t decreased their chances of a match with Lady Hackle’s boys.

  As she looked around the room, she didn’t see any faces she didn’t recognize. It was the usual set of lords and ladies, and she had to wonder if this mysterious man Mrs. Bramble had been going on about actually existed. Perhaps it was all just downstairs talk. If there was indeed any talk downstairs at all.

  And then she saw him. He looked completely out of place. Not because he wasn’t a gentleman or finely dressed, but because he was too good looking. He had dark hair and striking eyes, and there was something about him that set him apart from the other men in the room.

  They didn’t make men like him in London. He was too perfect, with his finely sculpted features, his strong jaw and cleft chin. He was like something out of a fairy tale. She wouldn’t be surprised if his name were Prince Dashing, that’s how perfect he was. She had never seen such a handsome man possessing such an unmistakable boyish charm. She could see it from across the room as he talked to Lady Hackle, the two of them laughing, her friend completely charmed by him.

  She could almost swear they were talking about her. She wondered if she was blushing, then scolded herself for acting like a giddy schoolgirl. She quickly sorted out her fluttering feelings, set herself straight, and choked down her nervousness. She had never felt in less control of her feelings before, but she managed to gather herself just in time for Lady Hackle and this mysterious man to make their way across the room to where she was standing.

  “Lady Tremaine,” Lady Hackle said, “I would like to introduce you to Sir Richard. He is visiting us from the Many Kingdoms.”

  Lady Tremaine smiled and put out her hand. “So this is the much-talked-about Sir Richard. It is lovely to meet you,” she said as the gentleman kissed her hand.

  “I’m honored to meet you, Lady Tremaine.” He looked her in the eye with such intensity that her heart started to flutter again.

  “So, tell me about these Many Kingdoms, Sir Richard. I find it interesting that so many kingdoms could coexist without conflict. That so many kings and queens could reside in such close proximity peacefully.”

  Sir Richard laughed. “Oh, the courts within the Many Kingdoms have their local conflicts but never with neighboring kingdoms. There always seems to be some wicked person causing trouble for one kingdom or another, but never in ours. Thankfully in our corner of the Many Kingdoms we are a peaceful court free of wickedness. I wish I could say the same for our neighboring kingdom; it is rumored there is a beast there that runs wild.”

  A beast! Well, that was certainly unusual and mysterious. Lady Tremaine wanted to keep the conversation going, and she knew the best way was to ask questions. She was suddenly happy her mother had sent her away to finishing school as a girl, as she was quite adept at the art of being a lady. To that end, while she was curious to hear more about this beast, she didn’t want Sir Richard to think she was too interested in the more unusual aspects of his homeland. “And what sorts of local conflicts are there, Sir Richard?”

  It felt odd calling this man by his first name, too intimate for someone she had just met, but she was already besotted with him.

  “Oh the usual sort of thing,” he said, smiling. “There was the old queen who tried to have her daughter killed because she was jealous of her beauty. You know, the typical problems you might find in any kingdom.” He said this so offhandedly that Lady Tremaine laughed.

  “I’d hardly call that usual. It sounds like fairy tales,” she said.

  “Well, nothing of the sort has ever happened in my hamlet’s court,” said Sir Richard. “It’s a peaceful place. So far, our kingdom has been left out of the book of fairy tales, and we intend to keep it that way.”

  Lady Tremaine thought that was an odd thing to say. “So this book of fairy tales is real, then? I’ve heard talk of it.” She did not want to mention her servant’s hysterics, nor the fact that she now wondered if the book he was referring to was in
fact the very same book Mrs. Bramble had just given her.

  Sir Richard laughed. “Oh, it’s real, but greatly exaggerated, I assure you. For example, I have never seen these witches who are said to author this book. I think they’re pure fiction.”

  Lady Tremaine smiled. “Then I imagine this is the Many Kingdoms’ version of a history book. Ours, too, are greatly exaggerated, I imagine,” she said.

  Lady Hackle cleared her throat. “Now, now, Lady Tremaine, don’t let the gentleman hear you say such things.”

  Sir Richard laughed. Just then the dinner gong sounded, and all the assembled ladies and gentlemen began to pair off and line up to go into the dining room.

  “Sir Richard, would you mind escorting Lady Tremaine into the dining room, as you are both without partners this evening?” asked Lady Hackle with a wide smile.

  “It would be my greatest pleasure,” he said, taking Lady Tremaine’s arm. To Lady Tremaine’s surprise she and Sir Richard were among the first to go in after Lord and Lady Hackle, which was slightly confusing, but she surmised that his title might have held more prestige in his own lands than it did in hers.

  Lady Hackle had arranged a magnificent feast. Lady Tremaine always thought she was an exceptional hostess, but tonight she could hardly eat a thing. She was enraptured by Sir Richard, who was becoming more interesting to her by the moment. She hardly thought of her girls that evening at dinner, not until Sir Richard asked about them.

  “Lady Prudence tells me you have two lovely daughters,” he said.

  “Yes, Anastasia and Drizella. They have been my world since Lord Tremaine passed away.” She didn’t see the point in mentioning it was probably the reason they had become snotty little twits spoiled past redemption and that she’d had to leave them home.