Chapter 20
“Just come down for dinner,” Comfort pleaded through the door, her voice already tinged with frustration.
“No!” My answer cracked like a whip. It was the sixth—no, seventh—time we’d had this exact same conversation. “I’m not going down there just so people can gawk at me.”
“They won’t!” she insisted, her tone turning falsely bright. “You’ll really like Cynthia and her father. Her dad’s a traveler; he’s been everywhere. You could talk about that with him.”
I held back a bitter laugh. “No. I’m not going to talk to anyone. I’m not leaving this room.”
“Honestly, Truly!” Comfort’s patience snapped. “I’ve been telling Cynthia and her father about you and Mother for months. Mother finally agreed to have them over for dinner, and you’re acting like a spoiled, stubborn child.”
“Then have them over. I’m not stopping you. But don’t expect me to join you. Besides, I’m not hungry.” My stomach was already twisted into knots. I couldn’t imagine sitting across a table, under candlelight, feeling the weight of strangers’ eyes on the map of scars etched across my face.
I knew Comfort would get tired and give up soon.
She kept trying to find ways to get me out of the house and meeting people.
She would suggest me going to market with her, or attending a dance, or going to meet new friends.
Each time I would refuse. I had to admire her persistence, but my patience was wearing thin. Why wouldn’t she respect my wishes?
I knew exactly what would happen if I left the house. People would stare and mock how I looked. Mother and Comfort claimed that they couldn’t tell, but I knew they had just become desensitized to my face. It wasn’t that I was any less ugly; it was just that they were used to it.
Comfort let out a scream of frustration. “What am I supposed to say when Cynthia gets here? That my sister they’ve never met is still hiding? That you don’t want to meet them? They will think you are a figment of my imagination!”
“So?”
“So, this is important to me,” she shot back, her voice cracking with the strain. “Just come down, smile, eat a few bites, and then pretend to get sick if you must. Please.”
“I am sick,” I said coldly. “Sick of being stared at.”
There was an irritated huff. “You’re infuriating. You haven’t even seen anyone outside this family since Father died. You even hide from our housekeeper. How would you know what they’d do?”
“I can just tell.”
“Truly, please. I’m begging you to do this…for me.”
I knew I was being a brat. I knew I was being unreasonable and selfish. What Comfort was asking wasn’t much, but at the same time, I still didn’t even want to look at myself, let alone allow strangers to look. “I just can’t.”
She tried once more, her voice softening. “Truly, you’re so much more than just your face. You’re clever and funny and—”
“N-O. No!”
“Fine, then!” she screamed. “Stay in there and rot!” Her footsteps stormed down the hall. Silence fell again, but it didn’t bring the peace I was hoping for. I was a terrible sister.
What did it matter if Mother and Comfort entertained guests downstairs?
Let them laugh and trade stories. The thought of joining them made bile rise in my throat.
I pulled a book into my lap, the same battered collection of fairy stories that Father used to read aloud by candlelight at night.
It didn’t matter that I had nearly memorized it.
The reassuring pages smelled of old parchment and ink and held stories about giants and ogres, daring knights and beautiful damsels in distress.
Beautiful.
There was that hated word again. The damsels in these stories were always beautiful and lauded for their appearances. Why hadn’t I appreciated my beauty when I had it? Now I had nothing. I tried to force those insistent thoughts away. It was as though those memories belonged to someone else.
I slammed the book shut and closed my eyes.
Muffled voices carried up from below. The guests must have arrived. New, unfamiliar tones blended with Mother’s gracious lilt and Comfort’s bright energy. I crept to the door, opened it a crack, and leaned into the dim corridor.
“Pleased to meet you.”
“…couldn’t be here tonight…”
“…feeling unwell…”
Names were exchanged along with more pleasantries, but the fragments of conversation drifted through the air like smoke, impossible to catch, then vanished as they moved deeper into the manor. I retreated, back into the safe cocoon of my room. Would I ever find the courage to leave it again?
It was late when Comfort came back to my room.
She didn’t bother knocking and just swept in, flushed and alight with energy.
I prepared myself to be criticized for not attending the dinner, sitting stiffly on my bed and keeping my nose buried in my book.
I should have locked the door after trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“You missed out tonight,” she said with a grin.
“No,” I muttered, eyes fixed on the page I wasn’t reading. “I don’t think I did.”
She perched on the edge of my bed, tugged the book from my hands, and tossed it aside. “You really did. Guess what happened?”
“I don’t care,” I said, but my eyes betrayed me, flicking up to her face.
She curled her legs under her and hugged one of my decorative pillows. “I think Algernon’s in love with Mother.”
That got my attention. “What?”
“Mm-hmm,” she sang gleefully. “Algernon saw Mother and got all tongue-tied and started stuttering like mad. You should have heard him introducing himself; he was all in a dither.”
“What did Mother do?”
“Oh, you know Mother. She was perfect, of course; just as polite and gracious as if she’d been entertaining the king instead of merchants.
But she kept her distance.” Comfort smirked.
“He didn’t seem to notice. He kept pulling her chair out for her and offering to escort her from the dining hall to the sitting room and everything. ”
I stared at my sister, trying to picture our mother with anyone other than Father. The thought felt all wrong. “I can’t believe it. Mother and…what did you say his name was?”
“Algernon.” Comfort wrinkled her nose. “Dreadful name. Cynthia told me her father hoped he’d only have daughters so he wouldn’t have to pass it on because it is some important family name.”
A laugh burst out of me, rusty but real. “We shouldn’t be surprised.”
“About him turning pinker than a boy at his first dance?”
“We shouldn’t be surprised that men find Mother attractive. She’s beautiful and elegant and poised. A man would have to be blind to not notice her.”
Comfort snorted. “Especially compared to the women here. You wouldn’t believe the dresses they wear.”
“Oh really?” I clutched a pillow as well. This was feeling just as cozy as our sister gossiping sessions from before our lives had been turned upside-down.
“Oh, of course, you haven’t seen them,” Comfort rolled her eyes.
“Truly, believe me when I tell you—all the women in this town don’t know anything about fashion or etiquette or anything.
The tailor in town is just horrendous. I am surprised the girls don’t run away screaming when he shows them the dresses he makes. ”
“Makes you glad you can sew, right?” I giggled.
“More than you know,” Comfort agreed fervently.
“What about your friend, Cynthia?”
“Cynthia’s different,” she said quickly. “She isn’t just some country bumpkin. She goes with Algernon on business trips all over the world and gets her clothes tailor-made from people with actual talent. And I am teaching her how to sew too.”
“That’s wonderful.” I imagined Comfort leaning over spools of thread with a friend by her side, her laughter filling the air.
It warmed me. Even if it was a struggle for me, at least my sister was happy.
She hadn’t tutored girls for very long before Father had died, but I knew she had loved it.
She had so many talents—dancing, singing, playing the harp, sewing.
But I couldn’t see any way she could put that knowledge to use here, in this tiny rural town.
She must feel out of place, just as Mother and I did.
“Do you miss before?” I asked suddenly.
She blinked. “Before?”
“Before Father died,” I clarified.
She traced the embroidery on the pillow she held with her fingertip. Her voice, when it came, was quiet. “Of course I do. But what good does it do to dwell on it? It just…hurts, and if I break, what would happen then?”
I felt partially responsible for her behavior. Mother and I had been broken, and Comfort felt she needed to carry all of the burdens on her own. Even now, she managed all the finances, all of the marketing, and the managing of the housekeeper. It was a lot to put on any one person.
“Thank you for always being there for us,” I told her, surprising myself with my sincerity after my childish behavior from earlier. “You really stepped up and took on the lion’s share of all the work and let Mother and me just recover in our own time. I love you so much.”
Her eyes softened. “I love you too, Truly.” She wrapped her arms around me, smelling faintly of lavender soap. “We’ll get you back to normal soon. You’ll be translating as if you never stopped. Or if you don’t want to do that, we’ll find something else. We’ll get through this, I promise.”
For the first time in months, I thought that just maybe, such hope was possible.