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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.”
CHAPTER 24
In a flurry, Comfort helped me wipe off the ruined gunky cosmetic job I had attempted on myself and change my outfit. Comfort pulled my corset strings so tightly I could barely breathe until finally, my figure was deemed perfect. She then began the anxious affair of applying my cosmetics. Turning my head to and fro, she gently would brush on one powder than another, allowing some to set for a few minutes before adding an additional layer. My eyelashes were plumped and darkened, my lips bathed in red. I still insisted on my wig being styled to cover most of the left side of my face, and to drape a veil from the center of my forehead to over my left shoulder. I knew it looked foolish, but I would rather people raise an eyebrow at my style choices than my face.
At long last, Comfort deemed me perfect and shooed me out of the door, ignoring the glass still shattered everywhere. For the first time in a year, I longed for a mirror, to see if Comfort made me bearable to look at, but there was no time to find the hand mirror that I had tucked away in a drawer somewhere.
A crowd of people milled around on the ground floor of the manor. Most had dainty glasses they were sipping from, some were swaying to the music provided by the orchestra.
I noticed immediately that, just like Comfort had claimed, the people attending our country party were very different from the royalty and noblemen I was used to at the castle. Girls wore garishly colored gowns with an inordinate amount of embellishments, large bows, frills and mountains of lace, their hats also bedecked with feathers, flowers, and lace. It hurt my eyes to just look at them.
