Olive Lisonbee
I miss the kitchen at our country house in Hampshire. I miss our cook, Mrs.
Varvel, and the way she used to wake up before sunrise to roll out pastry dough with me. I miss foraging for mushrooms with my baby sister on my hip. I’ve never felt quite comfortable in my skin, but this homesickness hurts in places I haven’t felt before.
The kitchen in Caledonia Cottage is smaller, and I am here all alone.
There’s a rack of gleaming copper pots above my head and an unfamiliar brick floor beneath my bare feet.
But at least the fire is roaring and the lanterns are lit. I peer out the plate glass window and look hopefully to the horizon. The first blue streaks of dawn aren’t here yet, I’ve got another few hours until their welcome arrival.
I don’t remember a time I wasn’t terrified of the dark. It was humiliating to ask Marion if I could keep the lantern lit all night and even more humiliating when she replied yes with that pitying expression she always has on her face when she looks at me.
She means well. They all mean well. Except maybe Faith, but I’m certain it’s just because she doesn’t know me yet.
Maybe if I win, they could all be my ladies-in-waiting. Then we’d all be friends forever. What fun that would be.
But I don’t think I’m going to win. I should have asked the queen for something better than a pretty face with perfect teeth. I should have asked her to make me brave like Ivy or funny like Emmy or interesting like Faith.
But Mother said someone would fall in love with my smile, and I liked the sound of that.
I tap flour out on the butcher block and roll out the square of dough into a long, flat oval. This is my favorite part, the part where I get my hands dirty.
A log in the fireplace pops and I nearly jump out of my skin.
My governess used to say I was afraid of my own shadow. I think it was supposed to be a figure of speech, but it was true. It felt like it was chasing me.
The dark makes me feel like I’m being watched. I like that even less.
I long for my room at home, with its big window that faces east. There was a lantern on every table, and the shadows were familiar.
I begged my mother all winter to let me delay my coming-out at least a year. I felt so unprepared for the season and what was expected of me after it, but she refused, saying it would cause nothing but gossip.
When the queen announced the competition for Prince Bram’s hand the day of the Pact Parade, I was relieved. Bram has such a sweet face and gentleur cook, Mrs. demeanor. He seemed like the kind of boy from the books I read. oll out pastry And being a princess seemed a more palatable prospect than being a wife.sister on my Logically, of course, I knew I’d still be a wife, but it was different thisickness hurts way. Easier to stomach.
And I was right about Bram. He’s a dream. He’s been nothing but a ere all alone. perfect gentleman, the model of a prince right out of a storybook. He sent aan unfamiliar footman with a handwritten thank-you note yesterday after I had a basket of iced buns delivered to him.out the plate But I didn’t expect to feel so foolish around the other girls. They seem soue streaks of much more grown-up than me. Faith told me yesterday that she’s kissed at least a dozen boys, and Marion already knows how to run a household ands humiliating
doesn’t need any lights on to sleep. d even more Even poor, disgraced Ivy Benton seems to have a better chance than I do.he always has Bram couldn’t keep his eyes off her after they danced at the Twombleys’ ball.
He wiped the tears from my cheeks when he danced with me, but the sting ofut I’m certain watching him with the others didn’t fade.
Sometimes I feel like one day every other girl was given instructions on n we’d all be how to grow up, and I missed the lesson. It’s why I love baking so much.
There’s no subtext or secrets in a recipe. he queen for As I work the dough, I think of Bram. On nights like this I play out a little ave asked her fantasy in my head, imagining that he visits the cottage late at night and finds me the only one awake. We talk for hours, and when dawn breaks, he takes e, and I liked me in his arms and kisses me as the first rays of sunlight dance across the grass.dough into a In my dreams he tells me that he likes me just the way I am, that I’m the prettiest, most special girl he’s ever met.
He’ll fall in love with your smile. That’s what my mother said. I just haveI think it was to keep smiling. Stiff upper lip. Don’t let them see how scared you are. was chasing The day of the Pact Parade, I clasped my hands in front of me to keep
them from shaking. The queen wasn’t as scary as I thought she’d be. She s east. Theresmiled at me kindly and told me I was a very pretty girl. That was nice. She didn’t have to say any of that. out at least aWhen I told her I wanted a perfect smile, she said she thought it would of me after it,suit me well. I made the deal in exchange for my fingernails easily. It doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it seems to bother everyone else. It’s honestly m’s hand theconvenient. There’s no more dough stuck down under them. ce and gentleI take a spoonful of soft yellow butter and smear it across the rolled-out brioche. wife.The creak of a footstep in the hall makes me jump. “Who’s there?” I different thiswhisper.
No answer comes. I’m always imagining things. othing but aI return to my dough. But when I look up again, there’s a figure ok. He sent adarkening the doorway. d a basket ofI shriek and drop my spoon with a clatter. The figure steps into the light.
It’s only a footman. I sigh in relief, but he crosses the kitchen with heavy They seem sofootfalls and grabs me in his arms so tight my ribs are nearly crushed. he’s kissed atI open my mouth to scream, but a vial is tipped between my lips. The ousehold andliquid slides down my throat, bitter and thick.
“I’m sorry, miss,” the footman whispers. nce than I do.He scoops me up into his arms, and before I can protest, I am mbleys’ ball.unconscious. ut the sting ofI don’t know how much time has passed when I come to with a gasp. The first thing I register is the pain of rocks digging directly into my spine. The structions onsecond thing is how cold I am. ing so much.I’m shivering under my nightdress.
I blink my eyes open to an ink-black sky, a sliver of a moon, a smattering ay out a littleof stars. ght and findsI’m outdoors. Why am I outdoors? aks, he takesThere’s a gasp to my left, a sniffle, someone cries out. ce across theI push myself up and look over to find Marion, Emmy, Faith, Greer, and Ivy, all as dazed as I am, in their nightdresses as well. , that I’m theThere are footsteps in the trees. I grip Ivy’s hand as someone approaches behind us. d. I just haveQueen Mor’s first lesson has begun.
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