Chapter 23
Imust have cried myself to sleep, because a soft knock at my door startled me awake. My throat burned, my cheeks sticky from tears. The light outside was still sharp and golden; it was still afternoon, not evening. I hadn’t slept long.
When I shifted, my cheek stuck to the pillowcase. I peeled my face away and saw smeared clumps of makeup ground into the linen like dirt. My stomach twisted. My feeble attempt at beauty had ended in stains.
Another knock. “Truly?” It was Mother’s voice, muffled but gentle.
I sat up, wincing as something sharp bit into my bare foot. I gasped, jerking back. The floor was a battlefield of the glittering, shattered remains of my mirror, mixed with splinters of its wooden frame.
“Just a minute!” I called. I shoved my feet into slippers and picked my way gingerly across the crunching glass toward the door.
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—Cynthia’s cutting reaction to seeing me, her face twisting in disgust.
My heart clamped tight and I swallowed. “Is it just you, Mother?”
There was a brief pause. Then, she answered, “No, sweetheart. Cynthia is here too. She came to apologize.”
“I’m really, really sorry!” Cynthia’s voice cracked through the wood, high-pitched and desperate. “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, so it’s fine to mock someone,” I snapped waspishly through the door, “as long as you don’t know them?”
“No! No, you’re right, I shouldn’t have said that.” Cynthia’s voice was pleading, but I was too angry to care.
“You shouldn’t have said anything!” My voice rose, sharp as glass, slicing through the quiet hall.
Her words tumbled over each other, frantic and desperate. “I know! I feel awful. Please, Truly, I didn’t mean—”
“How do you think I feel?” My chest heaved, fury boiling over.
“But no one cares what an ugly girl feels, do they? As long as your pretty little world stays intact, why should you? Well, how dare I let your pretty little head experience even a tiny bit of discomfort by me not forgiving you the instant you come groveling!”
“Truly, darling.” Mother reprimanded gently. “That is no way for a lady to behave—”
Something inside me snapped. My grief, my fear, my humiliation—all of it surged into one white-hot blaze. “Oh, forgive me, Mother. I forgot what it means to be a lady. A lady buries her husband and runs off with the first man who looks her way, doesn’t she?”
The words shot out of me before I could stop them.
I knew they were unfair and cruel, even more cutting than what Cynthia had said to me.
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 myself.
It was as though my body had become a conduit for all the bile I’d been choking on for months, and now it was spilling out whether I wanted it to or not.
The silence on the other side of the door became heavier. Anger still boiled within me, but guilt crawled in right behind it, suffocating me. I had struck her where it hurt most.
Finally, Mother’s voice came, quiet and cracked. “Have a good night, dear.”
Footsteps retreated.
I pressed my forehead against the cool wood, heart pounding.
I wanted to wrench the door open and take it all back, but my pride shackled me in place, so instead, I kicked at the heavy wooden door.
All it did was stub my toe. I limped over and grabbed a pillow to fling it across the room.
It thumped against the wall and dropped limply to the floor.
Pathetic. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the violent shattering of glass had been.
I collapsed onto the bed and buried my face in the blankets, screaming until my throat scraped raw.
I half-wished that Mother and my new stepsister had stayed outside my door so I could keep yelling at them.
That tiny, wicked voice whispered that it had felt good to lash out and vent some of the agony that had been eating me alive for so long and to force them to feel a tiny fraction of what I had, but the emptiness afterward wasn’t worth it.
I stared, unseeing, at the ceiling until I heard guests beginning to arrive.
Mother’s engagement party was already underway downstairs.
I could hear carriages crunching up the long driveway, guests calling out cheerful greetings, and laughter spilling into the halls.
I could just picture Mother, smiling in her well-practiced, poised way, explaining away her absent daughter with such grace that no one would spare me a second thought.
I imagined Cynthia playing the victim, drawing sympathy with her big blue eyes and trembling lip as she spread word of me far and wide.
Let them talk. Let them all talk. I’d given them their scandal. If I was to be the monster, then I’d play the part. Better a monster than a fool.
There was a sharp rapping on the door.
“Go away!” My voice cracked.
“It’s me,” Comfort in her most brisk and determined, no-nonsense voice. “I want to talk.”
“Go away!” I repeated. “I’m not opening this door and that’s final.”
Surprisingly, her footsteps immediately retreated. Relief sagged through me until I heard a scrape against the wall a few minutes later. A rope slid down past the window.
I bolted upright just in time to see my sister, skirts bunched in one hand, clambering down the rope and through the window like some rogue sailor. She swung inside, landing lightly on the bureau with a mischievous grin.
“Nice redecorating,” she said dryly, sweeping her hand at the chaos.
I glared, though part of me burned with reluctant admiration for her ingenuity.
“You shouldn’t have said those things to Mother,” she said evenly.
I looked away. “I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do.” Her eyes were sharp, unwavering.
My lip trembled. I pretended to study the frayed thread on my sleeve. “What do you want?”
“I want you to stop sulking like a spoiled child and come to the party.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “Oh, just like that? Smile pretty, waltz into the crowd, and give them a fresh round of laughter at my expense? Am I supposed to be the jester for the entire village and give them someone to mock indefinitely? You saw how Cynthia reacted.”
Comfort shrugged, utterly unfazed. “What feels better, Truly? Giving Cynthia power over your emotions or showing her that you can rise above any petty insult she could throw at you?”
The words pierced through my fog of rage. I didn’t answer, but I couldn’t shake them either.
Comfort leaned in. “You know I’m always on your side. Always. So let’s prove to her that you don’t care what a little cretin like her says. Show her you’re stronger than that.”
My throat tightened. “What about Mother? I said some terrible things.” I stared at the floor.
“You would make up for anything you said by being there and showing her you support her decision. Mother will understand. She always does.”
Silence stretched between us. My pride wrestled with my shame. Slightly reassured, I weighed my options. Guests were arriving, I would have to hurry if I was to make an appearance.
Then Comfort slipped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into a hug. “I’ll help you get ready. You’ll look a hundred times better than Cindersoot,” she whispered conspiratorially.
“Cindersoot?” I blinked.
Comfort smirked. “That’s right, you ran out and missed the action. I tossed cold ashes all over her gown right after you left. She had to run home and start again. Nobody messes with my sister when I’m around.”
For the first time that day, a laugh broke out of me, shaky but real. My chest loosened. Maybe I could face them. Maybe.
Emboldened, I nodded. “Okay.”