Page 36 of Disenchanted
I stopped in midstep, tensing with alarm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
I barely got the words out before Amy and Netta launched themselves at me, flinging their arms about my neck. The fact that they were giggling eased my fear, but I gasped, “Girls, please,” as I tried to pull free of their strangling hugs.
It was not that I did not appreciate such a welcome home. My stepsisters had hardly been speaking to me when I left the house earlier. But my body was too bruised to endure this much exuberance.
They released me, but they were still bouncing around with such excitement, I had to take a step back to spare my toes.
“Ella, you have been gone forever,” Amy cried.
“We have been waiting and waiting for you,” Netta chimed in.
“We have just been about to burst,” Amy said.
“Let me tell her,” Netta insisted.
But Amy thrust her aside, shrieking, “We are so happy! Now we can all go to the ball!”
I stared with incomprehension. Had Amy have been snooping in my room again? If she had picked the lock on my treasure chest and noticed the emeralds were gone, my stepsisters might have leapt to conclusions, guessing that I planned to sell the earrings to buy the tickets. It was an unlikely surmise, but the only explanation I could find to explain all this wild excitement.
The girls linked hands and began a joyous dance around me.
“Amy! Netta! Please stop,” I said. I felt sick at the idea of informing them I had not acquired enough money and that one of them was going to be weeping soon.
When they ignored me, I spoke more forcefully. “Stop.” Because there was no easy way to say it, I just blurted out, “We cannot all go to the ball because we can only buy two tickets.”
The girls stumbled to a halt, but they were still smiling, unfazed by my announcement. Amy chortled. “Silly Ella! What are you talking about? We already have the four tickets.”
“How is that even possible? Did Madam Dearling decide to loan Em the money after all?”
“That horrible woman? Of course not,” Amy scoffed. “Now you really are being silly, Ella.”
“Then how?” I demanded.
The girls exchanged a grin and cried in unison, “We have a fairy godfather.”
“What!”
They both giggled and assured me that I would see for myself. I could not get another sensible word out of either of them as they dragged me into the house. I tried to curb my impatience with all this air of mystery as they hustled me through the drawing room and out the double doors leading to the rear garden.
Like most of the homes in Midtown, we had a modest-sized back lawn, not even half an acre. Ours was surrounded by a picket fence badly in need of painting. Next to the small stable that housed Amy’s beloved ponies was my forlorn attempt at a vegetable garden, badly in need of weeding. The most charming feature of our yard was a pergola where we sometimes had afternoon tea. The latticework covering supplied shelter for a wrought-iron table, a bench, and some dainty carved chairs.
I could see my stepmother hovering over someone as she handed her guest a cup of tea. But it was not until Imelda resumed her seat that I obtained a clear view of her visitor. That was when I received my final shock of the day.
The person lounging upon the bench was Mal.
“Here he is.” Amy tittered as she propelled me toward the pergola. “Our fairy godfather!”
eight
Never had a man looked less like anyone’s idea of a fairy godfather than Malcolm Hawkridge. He was dressed in his usual fashion, high black boots, tight breeches, and a loose-fitting white shirt open at the neck. Whatever he had been doing the last fortnight, Mal had acquired a deeper tan and shed the last of that ridiculous black hair he had tried to grow. He had lost what remained of his own hair as well and was now completely bald. It suited him, enhancing his virility, making him look dangerously seductive. I was astonished that Em had allowed him to cross the threshold, let alone served him tea on her best china.
Her reason for doing so rested next to the sugar bowl on the table; four, gilt-edged, creamy vellum tickets to the ball. My stepsisters had not been talking utter nonsense.
Imelda sprang to her feet, appearing considerably relieved to see me. “Ella, dear, here you are at last. We have all been waiting for you.” Imelda’s hands fluttered in that way she had when she was nervous. “Only look who surprised us with a visit in your absence, your friend, Mr. Hawkridge.”
“That is not all he surprised us with.” Netta scooped up a ticket and pressed it into my hand.
“Mal has made it possible for us all to go to the ball,” Amy trilled. “Can you believe it?”
