Ella Enchanted

chapter 12

HATTIE RETURNED to the house, but I stayed outside. I watched her leave, hating her way of walking -- a mince combined with a waddle. She stopped to pick a flower and lift it to her nose, posturing for me.

I sat on a bench and stared down at the pebbled walk. In all the times I'd imagined the miseries she could inflict on me, I'd never imagined this. I'd thought of injuries, and I'd imagined terrible embarrassment, but I'd never thought of this kind of hurt.

Areida was in our room now, waiting to give me a lesson in Ayorthaian. I remained seated. I couldn't face her.

Was there a way to stop being her friend without hurting her? I could pretend I had suddenly become mute so I wouldn't be able to talk to her. But in that circumstance she'd be my friend as much as ever. She'd talk to me, and we'd invent a sign language, which would be great fun. And that wouldn't be ending our friendship, so the curse wouldn't let me do it. Besides, a mistress would be sure to say, "Speak, Ella," and I would have to.

I could announce I'd taken a vow of loneliness. But Areida would be hurt that I'd taken such a vow.

If only Mother hadn't forbidden me to tell about the curse. But then again, explaining would be an act of friendship, which the curse also wouldn't allow.

The bell rang calling us to bed. I was late again, but tonight there was no Areida to joke with about our tardiness.

In our room, she sat on my bed, completing a letter for Writing Mistress.

"Where were you? I've been reviewing the imperative."

"I'm tired," I said, not answering the question.

Perhaps I did look tired, or troubled, because she didn't press me. She only patted my arm and said, "We can study imperatives tomorrow."

In bed, I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to savor the last few hours before I had to hurt her.

Sleep on, Areida. Be my friend for one more night.

A long vigil lay ahead. I pulled out my magic book. It opened to a letter from Dame Olga to her daughters.

My sweet darlings,

Your poor mother is desolate without you.

I attended a cotillion last night at the palace. I wore my wine-colored taffeta gown and my ruby pendant. But it was for naught. The company was thin because King Jerrold is away, although Prince Charmont was there. That charming man, Sir Peter, wasn't there either. I was desolate. I understand he is off traveling and becoming richer, I imagine. I wish him well and will be first to pay my respects on his return.

Three pages followed describing Dame Olga's social calendar and her wardrobe.

In closing, she remembered she had daughters and was writing to them.

I hope both of you are eating well to keep up your strength. Olive, pray remember not to eat Madame Edith's flowers. If you were to sicken or die, I should be desolate. Hattie, I hope you have found a trustworthy servant to dress your hair. Madame E. promised it could be arranged.

I expect the two of you are amazingly finished by now. But do not toil too hard, my dears. If you can sing and dance charmingly, eat daintily, and sew a little, you will be fine ladies and I shall be proud of you.

My sweets, the carriage has arrived. I am in my lemon silk calling gown, and I must fly.

Your

adoring

mother,

Dame Olga

WHY WAS a trustworthy servant necessary to dress Hattie's hair? I compared the luxuriant tresses of Hattie and her mother with Olive's thin curls, and I remembered Hattie's attack on my hair after she smelled the bogweed. I laughed out loud. Hattie and Dame Olga wore wigs!

Thank you, Dame Olga. I hadn't expected to laugh tonight. I turned the page.

On the verso was an illustration of a centaur colt -- Apple, I was sure --

nuzzling a young man -- Char. The colt was a beauty. His hide was deep brown with a tan mane and an irregular tan star on his chest. Skinny and leggy, he was made for speed, although he was too young to bear a rider. Would he ever really be mine?

On the right was a letter from Char to his father.

Dear Father,

I hope this finds you safe and well. My mother and my sister and brothers are in good heath, as am I.

Since I received instructions to join you, I have been filled with gratitude for your confidence in me. The knights you have chosen to follow me are stout fellows and bear the command of a stripling with good humor. My mother worries, but I tell her they will not let harm befall me.

In truth, Father, I am so stirred up by the thought of my first military duty --

even if it is only reviewing border troops -- that I hardly hear my good mother.

Who knows? Perhaps the ogres will raid and there will be a skirmish. I do not fear injury, only that I may not acquit myself well.

Skirmishes with ogres! How could there not be danger?

Char continued to describe the visit of a trade delegation and the same ball that Dame Olga had attended, although he didn't mention what he had worn.

Near the bottom of the page, my name appeared.

I am training a centaur colt for a lass I know. Her mother was the late Lady Eleanor. I admire the daughter, Ella, but she has gone to finishing school, where I fear she will be made less admirable. What do they teach in such places? Sewing and curtsying? It is a great distance to go to learn such paltry tricks.

Would he stop liking me now that I was no longer clumsy? I had never enjoyed being a small elephant and hadn't mourned the loss till now.

Would he even be alive to stop liking me, or would he be an ogre's lunch?

The next page was a letter from Father to his bailiff.

Dear James,

The post coach comes rarely to the elves' Forest, but it came today. I am still with the greenies. The trading has been disappointing. They have not so much as showed me an Agulen no matter what I bring out to tempt them. Their chief trader, Slannen, knows little about bargaining. He gave me three vases in exchange for a gnomish copper stewpot, and the same for a simple wooden flute.

Below were three pages of trades and sales. He closed with his intentions.

I am making for Uaaxee's farm. You may remember Uaaxee, the giantess who entrusted her turnip harvest to me last year. On October 15, she will marry off her daughter and I shall be there. I should like to see a giant's wedding. The ritual is said to be peculiar. Moreover, several fairies are likely to be present.

They say hardly a wedding or birth takes place without at least one in attendance. If I can persuade a few to reveal themseves, I may be able to pick up some fairy-made trifles.

I swallowed. My mouth had gone dry. Mandy had never told me that fairies liked to go to weddings and births. But she and Lucinda had both been present when I was born.

Perhaps Lucinda would go to the giants. It was the first time I'd ever known a definite place where she might be -- where I might be too, if I could get there.

She might even be in a generous frame of mind, especially if she had just cast a well-meant, horrible spell. Perhaps she'd be so pleased that she'd release me from mine if I begged her to.

I hadn't promised Father I would stay at finishing school, only that I would go. I could leave whenever I wanted. And by leaving, I'd never have to take another order from Hattie. Areida would still think I was her friend. And if I succeeded with Lucinda, I still could be.

How late was it? How much of the night was left for travel? I stood up, then sat down again. How far was Uaaxee's farm? The wedding was less than two weeks off Could I get there in time?

Frantically, I riffled the pages of my book, hoping to be vouchsafed a map.

There. But it was the same one I'd looked at in the carriage on the way to finishing school -- of Frell, and no use to me now.

No matter. I'd get directions somehow.

In five minutes, my carpetbag was packed with a few essentials: Tonic, my magic book, my dictionary, a shawl, and little else. After a long look at Areida's sleeping form, I left.

I paused before the door to the Daisy Room, then went in. With quiet steps, I approached Hattie's bed. She frowned in her sleep and mumbled. I understood only one word: "royal."

Her wig was askew. Neat-fingered as I had become, I was able to lift it off without waking her. Now, what to do with it? If I threw it into the dying fire, the smell might wake someone. I could drape it over the head of the china cat that adorned the mantelpiece, but if Hattie woke early, she could rescue it before anyone saw.

So I took it with me, a trophy.