Just Like Magic by Elizabeth Townsend Read Free Book Online Page B

Stepmama trailed off.
“Trying to drum up business, I expect.” Gerta glanced at me over the top of her book with a patronizing smile.
And I couldn’t think of anything to say or do except to flee to the kitchen with red cheeks.
     
My stepsisters did their best to keep me too busy for much brooding. The Season was in full swing, and parties, balls, and picnics were the stuff of everyday. I was in great demand for drawing baths, doing hair, holding mirrors, and waving good-bye as they drove off. Still, when the carriage was gone and the house was empty, it was hard not to indulge in a few tear-stained hours.
But spring was here, with delicate peonies and pink hydrangeas out back, besides feathery carrot tops and leafy lettuces. As May grew warmer, I had Henry set a little iron table from the shed in the garden, and I often ate solitary meals outside in the sunshine with a vase of flowers. Henry didn’t like that much (since I still wasn’t talking with him), but the sitting room was usually occupied by my stepfamily, and I hated eating in the kitchen.
Slowly I had Henry work on the rest of the house. One sunny June morning, he cleaned the dining room, and as he took the dusty cloth off the crystal chandelier, dozens of tiny rainbows danced across the striped wallpaper. I took it for a good omen, but Henry only sneezed violently and glowered. I had stopped inviting him into the kitchen for breakfast, and my hopes were high for the Little Season in the fall. True, Lucy, Gerta and Stepmama kept spending all of the little cash they had on fashionable objets d’art and sheet music (Lucy), cheap trinkets and sweetmeats (Gerta), and cashmere dog sweaters (Stepmama). True, I avoided the kitchen as much as possible, so our meals were plain, monotonous, and possibly scurvy-inducing. But the Season was all Lucy and Gerta could think of, and they were in the thick of it, dining with Viscount So-and-So, dancing and partying and sleeping late and most definitely ignoring me except to call for help.
And what did I care? I didn’t need their company. Or Henry’s. That fall I would debut, I simply must. Stepmama would agree. I practiced curtsies to the hall mirror and daydreamed elaborate fantasies of myself being presented at the palace, dancing at balls, captivating every man’s heart, but myself noticing only one.
Oh, that one! I’d seen the royal family when we lived in town for Lucy’s debut and had liked the prince on sight. Now he grew taller, blonder, and handsomer with every daydream—my Prince Charming, clever, witty, kind, strong, and rich. My daydreams were usually jolted to a stop by Lucy’s snappish tones, Gerta’s whines, or Stepmama’s moans. Occasionally it was Archibald’s paws as he tried to persuade me to take him for a walk. But I wasn’t having any of that. Henry walked Archibald when he went shopping now.
Then came July, an unexpected sunflower bright against the kitchen door and fragrant heliotrope perfuming my outdoor teas. But with the summer came the end of the Season, not at all to my liking, for Lucy and Gerta now spent much of their time lolling about in the sitting room, Lucy driving everyone to distraction with her piano practicing, and Gerta fanning herself with back issues of the Court Gazette and complaining.
“I wish we could have gone to Branscombe Beach. Everyone else has gone,” Gerta would moan, alternately eating toast triangles and feeding them to Mon Petit, who sat begging by her chair.
“I’m sure Mama would have taken us if it hadn’t been for you-know-who!” Lucy would add, playing a few sharp chords and glaring at me.
Henry spent a lot of time sulking, too, but he still occasionally tried to talk to me. “Did I ever tell you my sister got that job in the palace, miss?” he asked one day in August, peering through the kitchen door as I poured some hot water into a teapot, trying not to splash myself.
“No.”
“Oh.” A pause. “Well, she did, miss—been there only a