Chapter 23

Imust have cried myself to sleep, because a soft knock at my door woke me up. But I couldn’t have slept long, because daylight still streamed in through the window. Globs of makeup clung to my pillow. Half awake, I called “Who is it?” and Mother’s voice softly answered. I stepped out of bed, then gasped in pain as my foot was cut—the floor was littered with sharp shards of glass, splinters of wood.

“Just a minute!” I called, slipping on my house slippers to gingerly walk over the crunching fragments of mirror. I was just about to unbolt the door when I had a sneaking suspicion, the memory of the afternoon hitting me like a cartload of brick. “Is it just you there, Mother?”

There was a pause. “No, sweetheart. Cynthia is here too. She came to apologize.”

“I am really, really sorry!” came a very embarrassed voice. “I didn’t know it was you when you came in, and I was just surprised is all.”

My humiliation and outrage came flooding back in full force. “Oh, you mean it is okay to mock people as long as you don’t know them?” I snapped waspishly through the door. The nerve of her, coming to see me right after openly ridiculing me.

“No! No, you are right, I shouldn’t have said that.” Cynthia’s voice was pleading, but I was too angry to care.

“No, you shouldn’t have said anything!” I shouted.

“I am sorry. I feel really bad,” Cynthia insisted.

“How do you think I feel?” I raged. “But no one cares about how an ugly girl feels, do they? Well, how dare I let your pretty little head experience even a tiny bit of feeling bad by not forgiving you the instant you come groveling!”

“Truly, darling, that is no way for a lady to behave,” Mother reprimanded gently.

“No, I forgot. A lady should forget her husband and run off with the first man she meets like you did!” I screeched. I knew I was being unfair. Knew I was being a self-centered brat. It was almost as though I could hear myself shouting those hateful words but couldn’t stop.

I was sick of it. Sick of being afraid to go out into public for the exact reason that Cynthia had brought to pass. Sick of being ignored by my family. Sick of having to hide from the world. I was done with dealing with people. Done with everything!

There was a drawn-out pause. “Have a good night, dear,” was all Mother said before she and Cynthia retreated down the hall.

Still fuming, I kicked at the heavy wooden door. All it did was give me a stubbed toe. I ripped a pillow from my bed and flung it too, but it merely padded softly against the wall and plopped onto the floor. Much less satisfying than breaking my mirror had been.

Ignoring the disastrous mess, I flumped back down onto my bed and screamed into the rumpled blankets. I half-wished that Mother and my new stepsister had stayed outside my door so I could keep yelling at them. It had felt good to vent some of my anger into them and make them feel a tiny part of what I did.

I gazed, unseeing, at the ceiling. Mother’s engagement party was ruined because of me but I didn’t care. Give the guests something to talk about. We would be the gossip of the town, and then maybe Mother and Comfort would realize why it was easier to hide from the world. Easier to hide than face people who merely wanted a fresh rumor to discuss, who didn’t care about the people they were talking about.

I stared at the ceiling for a long time. I heard carriages pulling up to the courtyard now, a flurry of people entering the house, greeting Mother and Algernon. Let them make excuses for me. Or better yet, just pretend that Mother only has one daughter. No one here knew us anyway. No one would want to get to know me if they did know about me.

There was a smart rapping on the door. “Go away,” I growled.

“It’s me,” Comfort said in her no-nonsense voice. “I want to talk to you.”

“Go away!” I repeated. “I am not opening that door. And that is final.”

Surprisingly, Comfort left. But a short time later, a rope tumbled down past my open window, and Comfort descended, hand over hand, in a full corset and gown and swung herself into my room.

She stepped off the windowsill and down onto a bureau. “Nice redecorating,” she said drily, gesturing around at the chaotic interior of my room.

I shrugged. Frankly, I was impressed at her ingenuity in gaining entrance to my room. But I didn’t want to let her know that. Comfort stared hard at me. “You shouldn’t have said those things to Mother.”

I looked away pointedly. “I don’t care.”

Comfort’s gaze was shrewd. “Yes, you do.”

I picked at a stray thread on my sleeve. “What do you want?” My anger was starting to ebb away, but I still had some fight left.

“I want you to stop acting like a spoiled child and come down to the party,” Comfort stated.

I rolled my eyes. “Just like that, huh? Just pretend like nothing happened and waltz down to have more people laugh at me?”

Comfort shrugged. “What would feel better, letting Cynthia have power over your emotions or showing you that you can rise above any petty insult she could throw at you?”

I considered.

“I am on your side!” insisted my sister. “Let’s show that little monster that you don’t care about anything she says. Show that you are better than that.”

I hung my head. “But what about Mother?”

“You would make up for anything you said by being there and showing her you support her decision. Mother will understand. She always does.”

Slightly reassured, I weighed my options. Guests were arriving, I would have to hurry if I was to make an appearance. “I can help you get ready,” Comfort offered. “You will look a hundred times better than Cindersoot.”

“Cindersoot?” I asked.

Comfort smirked. “I tossed some ashes from the fireplace into her face and all over her gown after you left.” Then seeing my horrified expression, she hastened to add, “Cold ashes! Just old soot. So she had to rush back to her house to get ready all over again.” Comfort put her arm around me and hugged me. “Nobody messes with my sister when I am around.”

Emboldened, I nodded. “Okay.”