“Irma,” Evfemia said, “don’t you think that dress looks beautiful on your sister Gisela?”
Irma’s eyes got big. Her mouth opened, and then closed, as if she’d just swallowed a fly. “Oh-oh, yes, Mother. She looks … very … beautiful.” She looked as if the fly she’d swallowed was coming back up.
“Is that Lady Margaretha’s dress? I saw that she was talking with you.”
“As a matter of fact, it is. I shall return it to her tomorrow.”
“What shall you wear to the ball then?” Evfemia’s evil smile was back on her face.
“I’m sure I have something suitable. Don’t worry, stepmother.” Gisela grinned to hide her own panic. She hadn’t thought about what she would wear to the all-important event tomorrow night. She knew every dress in her mother’s trunk, and there was nothing that looked as good as the blue one … which she had left at the castle, in Margaretha’s chamber.
The carriage was nearing their home. It was already dark, with the last vestige of sunlight glowing in the sky. Wido stopped the horses, and Irma threw the carriage door open, flouncing out before anyone else. Contzel got out next, moving faster than normal, then Evfemia motioned for Gisela to go next. Once they were all out, Gisela started to help Wido unhitch the horses.
“There’s no need for you to do that.” Evfemia seemed amused. “Come inside, Gisela, and we shall eat something and go to bed. You must not concern yourself with the horses.” She laughed, as if the idea were absurd.
It had never been absurd before. Evfemia had always expected her to take care of their animals. One of the many things her stepmother expected her to do. But she would play along. She was curious to see how far Evfemia would take this farce of Gisela being part of the family.
Gisela went inside, where their middle-aged, white-haired servant, Miep, was setting out the cold meat, cheese, and bread on the large wooden table in the dining hall. Gisela wasn’t even allowed in the room except to clean, and she never ate with Evfemia and her daughters. All her meals since her father’s death had been taken in the kitchen with the other servants. She watched her stepmother and stepsisters from the doorway until Evfemia seemed to notice her there.
“Come.” She motioned Gisela in, as if there was nothing strange about it.
Gisela cautiously stepped inside. She pulled up a simple stool beside Contzel, cut herself some bread, expecting every minute that her stepmother would snatch it away from her. She then helped herself to some cold roast pork and some cheese. She ate, silently watching her stepsisters and stepmother. Irma and Evfemia seemed to make an effort to smile at her every so often, but Contzel just stared.
When Gisela had eaten, she poured herself some water from the pitcher into a small cup while Evfemia poured from a wine cask.
“Would you like some wine, Gisela?” Evfemia raised her eyebrows.
“No, thank you.”
Gisela drank her water, watching over the rim of the cup. When she finished, she took her cup to the kitchen. Miep gave her a questioning look but said nothing.
Gisela hurried up to her chamber at the top of the stairs. Her stepmother had trapped her inside before. Standing outside her door, she looked behind her down the long staircase. Nobody was in sight. She took the crossbar that was resting beside her door and carried it into her chamber, hiding it in her oldest trunk.
She left her door ajar so no one could sneak up on her. Gisela lifted the old blanket that hid her mother’s trunk. Inside it were all her mother’s possessions that had not been lost, sold, or taken over by her stepmother. She picked up one of her mother’s old dresses, a lovely pink silk, but a bad stain marred the front. Gisela couldn’t wear that. The next was emerald green, but it had a tear in the bodice. She could mend it, but it would show, and the bodice seam would be noticeably crooked. She looked through the rest of the dresses. One by one she reluctantly rejected them for some serious flaw. Lastly, she went back to the green dress with the tear. She would simply have to make it do.
She searched for her needle and thread. Sitting by her little window with the shutter open, she began to mend the gash.
Footsteps on the stairs, coming closer to her room, made Gisela put the dress down and stand. What if her stepmother had another crossbar?
Miep came in carrying a pitcher of water.
“Frau Evfemia bid me bring this to you.” Miep set the pitcher on the scarred table that was actually nothing more than a plank of wood propped up with two stools. She gave Gisela a sullen look that seemed to say, “Gisela has always helped me with my work, and must I serve her too now?” She went away, shaking her head and muttering.