Cold Hearted (Villains 8)

“I hate it here, too, my darlings. And if you can keep a secret, I’ll tell you what I really plan to do. I’ve been writing Lady Prudence asking if she can send us money to book passage to London as soon as possible. I promise I won’t keep you here a moment longer than I can help. I will do anything to get you out of this house. Mark my words.” She hugged them tight.

“Thank you, Mama,” said Drizella.

“Very well, my dears, off with you to take your lessons with Nanny while Sir Richard is at the castle. I will do your chores; he needn’t know you didn’t do them. Go now and learn as much as you can while he is away and let me write my letter to Lady Prudence.” She kissed them both before they dashed out of the room.

As she was writing her letter, Rebecca came into the room. “Excuse me, my lady, I was looking for Lucifer. Cinderella says he’s been menacing her mice again, and I wanted to have a chat with him.”

“Try the kitchen, he likes teasing the dog. Or maybe up in the attic; he loves how warm it is up there, because it gets lots of sun.” Lady Tremaine didn’t look up from writing her letter.

“I can take that letter to the village to be sent off to Lady Hackle once you are finished,” Rebecca offered. Lady Tremaine raised her eyebrow. “By the way, did Lady Hackle ever say if she found the book of fairy tales? I feel just awful I didn’t find it in any of the trunks.”

“She didn’t. I will include a postscript inquiring again,” she said, signing the letter and putting it into an envelope. As she wrote out the address and affixed her wax seal, she wondered how Rebecca knew she was writing to Lady Hackle. Then again, who else in all the world would she be writing to?

“Before you go, please tell Nanny to keep an eye out for Sir Richard’s return. I wouldn’t like him to find Anastasia and Drizella taking lessons with Cinderella,” she said.

“I understand, my lady.” Rebecca took the letter from Lady Tremaine and left.

Finally alone, Lady Tremaine let out a great sigh. She had decided there was no way she and her daughters could stay another fortnight in that château. If she didn’t hear back from Lady Hackle within the week, she would steal back her own money if she had to, and if there was none to be had, then she would sell something. But one way or another she would leave this place.

She looked up and saw a face she didn’t recognize in the mirror. It was her own face, of course, but it didn’t seem like it belonged to her. She looked old, haggard, and worn-out from all the drudgery of keeping Sir Richard’s house—Sir Richard’s first wife’s house, she corrected herself. She could never shake that woman, not with all the portraits around the house haunting her, the eyes watching her every step. At least Cinderella had been sweet to her since that Christmas Eve dinner. It did make things somewhat easier, though they hadn’t exactly become friends. How could they, when Lady Tremaine resented her for being treated like a princess while she and her daughters were used like servants and degraded at every opportunity?

It had already been a long day and Lady Tremaine still had all her housework to do, along with her daughters’. This had become the custom on the days Sir Richard was at court, and she was thankful no one in the household had alerted him to her little deception.

As she made her way downstairs to start her day’s work she heard a knock at the front door. No one ever came to visit them, and so a sudden thrill washed over her. What if it was the Grand Duke to let her know Sir Richard had been killed? She instantly felt bad for thinking so.

She opened the door and found three i

dentical women standing there. They were young women, but at the same time there was something ancient about them, giving them an odd look of timelessness. They were an indistinguishable trio of witches, with stark white faces and large, deep-set eyes that protruded bulbously from their heavily darkened sockets, which was in morbid contrast to their vividly painted cheeks and lips. Lady Tremaine didn’t know what to make of these women and thought perhaps they were traveling actors wishing to put on a display for the family.

“Hello, ladies, may I help you?” she asked, looking them up and down. All three wore voluminous long black dresses cinched tightly at the waist, with bodices trimmed in silver, and sparkly golden flower arrangements in their black hair.

“We are here to help you, Lady Tremaine,” said the woman in the middle. “My name is Lucinda, and these are my sisters, Ruby and Martha.” She motioned to her sisters in succession, with the eeriest smile Lady Tremaine had ever seen. But before Lady Tremaine could speak, Lucinda got the strangest look on her face, and within moments both of her sisters looked as if they were panic-stricken. “My sisters and I sense that you have a servant here by the name of Nanny, is that true? Please tell us you haven’t given her your brooch. We don’t see you wearing it,” she said, trying to peer into the house, her eyes wide like a wild bird.

Lady Tremaine was taken aback. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she said. “And how do you know about my brooch?” She reached for it and was surprised to find it wasn’t there, then remembered she always took it off to do the housecleaning. “Who exactly are you women?” she asked. Something about them made it hard for her to keep her thoughts straight. She kept feeling as if she was trying to bring herself out of a haze after each time they spoke.

“Oh, this is a small kingdom, my lady,” said Lucinda, cackling to herself under her breath.

“Yes, very small,” said Ruby.

“Your story is well known to us. We’re watching it being written,” said Martha.

“We know of your hardships, my lady. We know you’re a prisoner in your own home. A servant to Sir Richard and his brat daughter, Cinderella. But we can help,” said Lucinda.

“Yes, Lady Tremaine, we can help you,” said Ruby, taking a small bottle from her pocket and holding it before Lady Tremaine. “The laws in the Many Kingdoms are similar to those in England. Should your husband die, all the money would revert to you since there is no male heir.” She smirked.

Lady Tremaine backed away from the sisters, scared and revolted. What were they suggesting? And what was in that little glass bottle?

Her fear only made them laugh, which made Lady Tremaine’s head swim more.

“Oh, don’t play the dainty little thing with us, Lady Tremaine. We know your heart. It’s what brought us to you. Only moments ago you were wishing for Sir Richard’s death,” said Lucinda, laughing.

“It’s really the only way out of this,” said Martha.

“Yes, the only way,” Ruby added, joining in her sisters’ laughter.

Lady Tremaine had the terrible and sudden realization that Mrs. Bramble had been right about this place. Could it be that these were the witches she had warned her about? The authors of the book of fairy tales, standing right in front of her?

“I suggest you leave here at once before I call someone to throw you out,” said Lady Tremaine.