Chapter 39

Iworked on the translation all that night, using up a third of my precious candle reserves. Just as I had suspected, Thomas’s book was dull and difficult to decipher, full of procedures and detailed mechanics on hardening glass. I only had a few hours of sleep before students began trickling into the house again, and the cacophony they arose made it so I couldn’t sleep even if I had the time. I snatched up the book and translations and left our house again.

I handed the translation and original book to Thomas when I reached his shop. “You were quick!” he exclaimed, thumbing through my neatly copied manuscript. “I wasn’t expecting this back for a week at least.”

“Well, I figured the sooner I finished, the sooner I could get those shoes!”

Thomas grinned. “I will tend to them at once.”

I left his shop, but then ran back as a thought occurred to me. “Thomas?”

“Yes?”

“When you finish the shoes, would you please keep it a secret? I want them to be a surprise for someone.”

“Your wish is my command!”

I went back to the secluded grove of trees I had discovered the day before. I knew that if I returned to the manor, the clamor from the crowd of finishing school pupils would distract me from my work. I spread out more translations on the same flat stone and set to work.

After several more hours of work, I heard the approaching footsteps again. It was Cynthia, back to the Fairy Tree again. For the second time, I watched her kneel, clasp her hands as though worshipping, and then feel around in the tree’s hole. Again, her shoulders slumped and she walked sadly away.

How long had she been doing that? Did she come every day? I simultaneously pitied her na?ve hope and admired her for refusing to give up.

Walking back into town late that day after delivering a letter and business proposal, I passed a shop window with elegant, elbow length satin gloves. Cynthia’s comment about her chapped hands floated to the forefront of my mind.

On an impulse, I went into the shop and bought the gloves. They were more expensive than I had anticipated and I knew that Comfort would be furious if she found out about my splurge. For all of her careful budgeting and meticulous counting of coins, here I was, blowing all of my day’s earnings on a pair of gloves when our family could barely make ends meet as it was.

That evening, I lied to Comfort and said that I had fallen asleep and hadn’t been able to complete any of my translations and because of that, hadn’t been able to get paid.

She sighed. “Don’t worry, sis. Mother and I have been taking on extra students.” She rubbed her hand on my knee. “I’m sure you needed the rest. You work too hard.”

I felt guilty for lying to my sister but I also knew she would disapprove of any frivolous purchases. “Actually, Comfort,” I began, “Could I talk to you and Mother?”

Cynthia had already gone to bed. Mother came into the room, and I drew a breath.

“I want to make Cynthia a ball gown.”

Mother nodded. “I have been thinking that too. Her dresses are looking very thin lately.”

“We can make it at night, so she doesn’t know, and then let her find it before the ball. But in secret, so she doesn’t know it was us.”

“Why in secret?” demanded Comfort. “She should know how much effort we are putting into this for her.”

“Oh, come on,” I wheedled. “Cynthia puts in a lot of effort too, with all of her cooking and cleaning and going to market. She needs something exciting to happen to her. I think she would feel like it is her dad watching over her, like he used to always say her mom did for her. And besides, it is fun to do things in secret like this!”

Mother was eager to participate. “Truly, what a wonderful idea! It was so thoughtful of you to think of ways to be kind. That is just like you,” she smiled at me. I could tell I had pleased her.

Comfort was still hesitant. “Why should we do something for her when Little Miss Cindersoot has been so snippy with us lately?”

“Well, it seems like I remember several times when I have been snippy, and the thing that helped me most was patience and kindness. We have Mother as an example for that.” Mother glowed at the compliment.

Comfort rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

We then spent a long time selecting fabric and debating which would look best on Cynthia. We finally decided on a light sky blue, which would bring out her eyes. We also knew it would be a dead giveaway if we measured Cynthia, so I snuck one of her old dresses from the clothesline, and we took measurements off that.

For the second night in a row, I stayed up late. My eyes itched and watered with tiredness, but this time, I had company. Mother and Comfort and I selected a pattern and began the dress. My contributions were limited to gathering seams for petticoats and stitching lace onto the hems. Anything that wouldn’t be visible once it was completed was a good job for me.

We worked for hours, all giggling from giddiness coupled with drowsiness. Any time we heard the slightest creak of a floorboard or howl of the wind outside, we would instantly fall silent, hardly daring to breathe for listening, straining our ears to see if Cynthia was coming downstairs. Once we were unable to stay awake any longer, we concealed our progress in the attic room where I had been working, vowing to repeat the same procedure the following night.