Just Like Magic (12 page)

“Really? Is someone bothering you? I can take care of that.”

I was touched by his concern but also amused by his proprietary air. “Nothing like that! It’s just that…I’m here incognito, and…it’s awfully hard to explain.”

“Incognito? I envy you.”

“It’s nothing to envy. I realized after I got here that I can’t even dance.”

“No?”

“Who’s to introduce me?”

“Well, you could—no, you couldn’t.” He considered a moment, head tilted. “If you don’t want to be recognized, then why come?” He broke off and added quickly, “I beg your pardon. That’s a rude question.”

“Oh, I don’t mind!” The night air must have loosened my tongue. “Besides, do you need to ask? The biggest ball of the Season? Who wouldn’t want to come?”

“I can think of someone.”

“Well, I can’t. But there will be other balls. So I really need to be going.” I reached for the door handle.

“But since you’re here, it seems a pity not to dance at least once,” the man objected.

“Dance? With whom?”

“With me.”

He was a shadowy figure, but I liked his voice. Still, I must have been going mad, for I stayed and listened.

“Why not here, on the terrace?” he continued. “If we open the door, we’ll hear the music.” He pulled it open, and muffled voices could be heard through the velvet drapes. “You see? The next dance is just about to begin.”

I smiled and considered. What harm could it do, here on the terrace, with the door open? Such a fantastic evening, why not dance with a perfect stranger? It would probably be my only chance. “What time is it?”

“I’m not sure. Nearly eleven, I think. Why?”

“Oh—I was just wondering.”

The gentleman bowed and held out his hand as I heard violin music swelling inside. “May I have this dance?”

“Why not?”

And we began to waltz. I was nervous at first, not wanting to trip over any planters, but my partner guided me expertly, and I was soon enjoying myself.

“You dance very well,” he commented.

“I enjoy it, though I don’t get many chances these days.” Archibald wasn’t much of a dancer; I knew because I’d tried.

“I expect next Season you’ll have more opportunity?”

I smiled noncommittally in the dark. “I certainly hope so. And you?”

“I enjoy dancing with a good partner. But I’ve had my toes stepped on too many times; sometimes I think women dance badly with me on purpose, just to save their slippers and—” He stopped abruptly.

I didn’t quite follow that, but I added inanely, “At least they weren’t wearing glass slippers!”

“Glass slippers! Is that a new fashion? It’ll keep the surgeons in business!”

We laughed together. I couldn’t see his face very clearly, but I liked his laugh.

When the dance ended, he released my gloved hand, and we stood together on the terrace. Neither of us spoke for a few seconds, then I said, “I suppose I’d better be going in now.”

“Must you?” He glanced back at the door. “I suppose I should, too.” But neither of us moved. My cheeks were warm, and I fanned them. The man took my elbow firmly and led me to a bench.

“Better cool off first,” he said.

“Thank you!”

He sat down, too. The moon was just rising over the mountains beyond the trees, and everything was tinted with silver. “What a lovely scene!” I added.

“I’ve climbed in those mountains—hiked to their tops.” My partner turned to me. “The view from there is—well, it makes Kingston look small. You can even see the ocean and far off in the distance, islands.”

“How lucky of you! I’ve never been far. My father sometimes spoke of taking me to Newport, but—but he never did.”

“Newport’s a fine city. There’s always a wind blowing, and the smell of the sea. Does your father like the sea?”

“He didn’t, not overly.” My eyes weren’t seeing the moonlit mountains now or Newport as I imagined it. They were seeing my father laughing as he declared his legs were meant for land. “He died a year and a half ago. No—” I hesitated, and my companion said quietly, “I’m so sorry.” Then I plunged on, “He’d go to Newport to see his ships. He was a merchant.” Then I sat very still and gazed intently at the cathedral spire.

“A merchant? But he didn’t like the sea? Wasn’t that a handicap in his business? Or didn’t he travel much?” He stopped abruptly. “My pardon again! You needn’t answer. It’s only my everlasting curiosity.”

“I don’t mind. No, father did travel, but he was seasick a lot. Poor Papa! He was always so happy to be home! He’d sit out in the garden and say, ‘Never again!’”

“I’ve had voyages that made me feel that way! Once, we were a day’s sail out of Kamoro and got caught in a northwest tempest. We lost a mast and were blown halfway to Trelonia. Let’s just say I learned to respect the sea on that trip.”

“That must have been dreadful!” I shuddered, then added, “But in good weather I think I’d like to travel, to sail and see different places. Heavens, I’d even like to see more of Kingston! Since we moved into town, we…we haven’t done much. Of course, I’ve been learning to cook but I don’t think that counts.” What was I saying?

“Cooking!” I thought I heard a smile in his voice. “That would be a foreign country to me. I remember venturing into the kitchens as a child and getting scolded for it.”

“Well, let’s not talk about kitchens, then. Tell me more about your travels. What was Kamoro like?”

So he told me about it, and I told him about living in the country, which he mostly hadn’t, and somehow we found ourselves talking to each other as if we’d known each other all our lives, laughing at each other’s jokes, and forgetting all about the ball and the dancing and anything else. I don’t know how long we talked, but it seemed like forever, and no time at all, until he asked abruptly, “Do you intend to go to every ball incognito?”

“No! It’s just that…that I wasn’t expected at this one, exactly.”

“Not expected? Not invited?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean…oh, heavens, I don’t think I can explain. It gets rather embarrassing.”

“I’m not trying to pry. I only want to know how to find you again if I wanted another dance. Which I do.”

“I—” My cheeks felt warm. “I’m sure—” And it was at that inopportune moment that the cathedral clock started to strike the hour. “I—I have to go, but I’m sure you could find me—” I moved toward the door but paused. Should I tell him my name?

“Your Highness! Is that you?” A voice suddenly spoke from the doorway. “You are needed inside.”

Your Highness! I turned in shock. “I—I didn’t know!” I whispered. He stepped toward me quickly, but just at that moment I heard a familiar whiney voice. I mechanically pulled back the curtain slightly, glanced into the ballroom, and gasped. Across the room I saw tall ostrich plumes and a purple turban—it was my stepmother and sisters, with the duke’s party. They had arrived!

I turned from the terrace, panicky. I don’t know when I’ve ever felt so confused. “I must go!” I repeated, and I bolted into the ballroom.

“Wait!”

But I was already threading through the dancers, blindly making for the exit, hardly seeing where I was going. Your
Highness?
That had been the prince? I nearly tripped crossing the ballroom threshold, and my left shoe fell off, but I couldn’t stop to pick it up. I had to get away, to get home!

With a wildly beating heart, I fled down the grand stairway, ignoring the stares of latecomers and footmen. Through the hallway, out to the drive, but where was my carriage? There, that plain one, down the long curving driveway. I ran.

The driver stepped down and opened the door, too slowly for me, and I sprang inside before he had time to help me. “Please go, now!” I managed to gasp. In a few agonizing seconds, the carriage rolled away, and as it did I looked out the window, back at the palace.

Silhouetted against the light of the open palace doorway stood a man, gazing down the driveway, holding something in his hand. I fell back into my seat, and the carriage drove on.

11

Slipper, Slipper

I was roused out of a groggy slumber by the clatter of hooves and carriage wheels and the thump of weary footsteps on the front stairs. The kitchen was dark. I yawned, lit a candle, and checked the clock that ticked patiently on the mantelpiece. It was 5:15 in the morning, and my stepmother and stepsisters were just getting home from the ball.

Home from the ball. I shivered and felt more awake. What had happened there after I left? Had the prince—the prince!—spent another thought on me? Did he lie awake thinking of me, as I had of him? I looked over at Archibald, who lay twitching in his sleep on the hearthrug, then blew out the candle and crawled back into bed. “You’ve got the right idea, Archibald,” I whispered. “Just sleep. Everything will make sense in the daylight, I expect.”

But I lay awake again for a long time, staring into the darkness, before I dozed off.

A sudden thumping woke me for the second time that morning. I felt like I had slept for ten minutes. “Go away!” I moaned.

“Miss! It’s me!”

Sighing, I sat up, slipped on my robe, shuffled to the back door, and opened it a crack. Henry stood cheerful and energetic on the doorstep.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” I croaked.

“It’s eight o’clock, miss. I know I’m late, but my mum said as you all might be sleeping late today.”

“Well, wasn’t that thoughtful of her.”

“Yes, miss. What’s to do today, miss?”

I looked around groggily. The day looked fair, if a bit chilly. “Last of the garden work, I think,” I said.

“Got a cup of tea, miss? That’s cold work.” Henry looked hopeful.

“Henry, it’s eight in the morning, I had perhaps four hours of sleep last night, and you just woke me up. There’ll be tea later!”

“Yes, miss.” Henry heaved a sigh and headed for the tool shed.

An hour later I felt more human, having washed, dressed, and fed myself. Henry gulped down two pieces of pumpkin pie with a couple of cups of tea, then spent the rest of the morning in the garden, digging and spreading straw.

I didn’t know what to do with myself. I forced myself to shake out my ball gown and pack it into my trunk along with the slipper, but I couldn’t help reliving that hour with the prince as I folded the yellow silk. I had liked him so much: his voice, his conversation, his dancing, his very presence! I sighed, then shut the trunk lid with a bang and stood up.
Enough daydreaming, Ella! Be sensible! He’s Prince Gregory, and you’re Ella Nobody, and there’s work to be done!

So I started making bread. But in between the risings and the kneading, I still found myself gravitating to the door, staring out at the sky of moving clouds, my stray curls tossed by gusts of cold wind that made me feel alive, alive! I wanted to go somewhere, do something! I glanced toward the cathedral and palace.

“Did you hear from your sister about the ball?” I called to Henry abruptly.

He stopped digging. “Not yet, miss. She only got a few hours sleep last night herself. Maybe I’ll see her at dinner? Then I’ll be back here extra to finish off the digging today.”

I gave up and went back inside. “Did you ever feel like you were about to explode?” I demanded of Archibald. He was enjoying a midday snooze and merely opened an eye at me. “Oh, never mind.”

Around one o’clock I heard the door from the hallway open and Lucy call, “Ella!”

“Ready for breakfast?” I said, looking up the stairway. To my surprise, she traipsed down it.

“It’s warm down here,” she said, glancing at me bitterly. “Isn’t this a waste of wood?”

“I’m baking bread. Would you like some tea?”

“What do you think, I came down here to amuse myself?”

I would have rolled my eyes and sighed loudly, but I knew it wouldn’t have any effect on her, so I simply reached for the kettle. Once I had served her, I thought she would return to her room, but she didn’t.

“How was the ball?” I asked, sitting down at the table.

“You certainly have it all fancied up down here,” she remarked in a displeased tone, glancing at the fresh curtains and the polished copper pans. She slumped into a seat. “The ball? Quite dazzling. Princess Seraphine admired my dress highly.”

“How about the prince?” I asked lightly.

“The prince?” Lucy sat up straighter. “We danced, of course.” She stared at her tea and stirred it.

“What’s he like?”

“Like? Really quite charming—not as blond as he used to be. An excellent dancer, though he’s too young for—”

There was a creaking on the stairs, and Lucy turned with a frown as Gerta sank into another chair. “Are we talking about the ball?” she asked, yawning.