Snow (9 page)

W
hen Jessica woke up, she wished she hadn’t.

Her head ached. Her whole body ached. Her throat was parched as if she hadn’t drunk anything in days. She felt like vomiting, and the room spun.

A look outside the window confirmed her fear—somehow she had slept from the rest of the afternoon through the next morning.
Late
morning. Breakfast was brought to her in bed, which was a rare treat. Although she was sick Jessica found herself eating everything in sight.

She glared at the two maids who served her, indistinguishable from each other. They were new hires of the duchess.

“Where is Gwen?”

“Off to visit her mother, My Lady. She returns in a fortnight.”

“Hmmmph.”

For all the other pains she was experiencing, Jessica had to admit that the ones in her stomach had lessened some. Not a
great
trade-off, but at least she felt she could walk. “You may go. I will go see Dolly.” Who, she suspected, might have less angry answers to some of her questions, and who wasn’t likely to break down and cry in the middle of her explanations.

“You aren’t to bother the kitchen staff today, My Lady’s orders,” one of the maids—the very slightly taller one—said promptly. Jessica could tell they would be no help. Now that she was a
woman,
she couldn’t even have the sort of confidante maid and friend that she read about in books. Not until Gwen came back, at least. Even assuming she
liked
giggling and talking about men, which she didn’t.

Men …

“Send me the fiddler boy,” she announced, in her best grown-up voice. “Some music would improve my constitution.”

The two maids looked at each other and laughed. “My Lady can’t have a boy in her room. ’Twould be most unseemly”

Jessica was right on the point of telling them to go do something she had heard Davey describe once, but she decided to be a lady for the moment.

“Yes, of course.”

She stuffed some more toast in her mouth and pondered escape.

“Is My Lady still feeling ill? Would she like some more medicine?” One of the maids held up the evil little blue bottle.

“Feed that stuff to me ever again and you’ll both be on the streets before you can say
scat,”
Jessica promised—as high and haughty a thing as she had ever said.

The few times throughout the day she tried to leave the room there was always someone to stop her and
tell her that she needed to rest, that she shouldn’t be up, and that they would bring her whatever she wanted. That she was
sick
. That everyone would understand if she wasn’t at dinner, because she was having a “spell.”

Bored quickly with her immobility and the maids’ automatic responses, Jessica read books until they were gently but firmly taken away from her “because they strained her eyes.”

The two maids didn’t think sewing would damage her eyesight, however. Three days passed in confinement and misery.

“This is what being a grown-up lady is like,” Jessica murmured to herself. “This is what the rest of my life is going to be like.”

There was worse yet to come.

Jessica finally managed to sneak down to the kitchen by sending her new maids to find a book in the library whose title and author she made up. She stole a pastry, ate the whole thing, then took another and was just sneaking out, past the library, when she heard the maids gossiping.

“… hasn’t told her yet.”

“My Lady is bound to have herself a fit!”

“Still, if
Dolly
can find herself a husband and move to her own house in Swansea, I suppose it means there’s luck and love for
anyone”

“Did you not hear? The duke himself is paying for part of the house as her wedding present for long years of service. It was the duchess’s idea….”

“What did she say the name of the author was?”

Servants and maids alike fell out of her way as Jessica ran through the house. She leaped up the back stairs to the wing with the bedrooms. Didn’t it all sound a little too convenient?
Dolly never mentioned a gentleman friend before
…. And the weirdly acting, wicked duchess just
happened
to suggest that she move away?

But when Jessica knocked loudly and meanly on the laboratory door there was no response. She leaned her head on the wall in frustration, then screamed with fear and disgust.

A stream of black blood issued slowly from underneath the door.

Jessica turned and ran until she slammed into someone. She looked up, preparing either to excuse herself or to yell, when she saw who it was.

“Alan!”

“What’s wrong, Jess?”

“Alan!” she cried in relief. She began sobbing again. Alan looked around quickly and pulled her into a nearby pantry. He held her as she sobbed, making soothing noises at her until she calmed down. Finally she spoke.

“Dolly—Dolly’s gone away and it’s all my fault. Everything changes. Anne was right. And there are these new maids, and they’re horrible, like prison guards, and it’s all because … because …”

“Because of what?”

She just kept sobbing.

“Oh! Is that what it is.” Alan laughed gently and hugged her. She looked at him, shocked and surprised. “Jess, I have six sisters. There are few secrets in a house with four rooms. Dolly getting married, those two ‘horrible’ maids—those things have nothing to do with you, or with growing up. Dolly getting married is a
good
thing. She has a right to be happy, like everyone. Or don’t you want that?”

Jessica sniffled, but nodded. “I just don’t want her going away,” she whispered.

“I know.” Alan gave her a hug. “But you still have me.”

“Barely,” Jessica spat, thinking of the duchess. “What with you and the duchess, and concerts …”

“Jessica Abigail Danvers Kenigh, daughter of the duke!” Alan gave her a playful slap on the shoulder. “Lady Anne says that with practice I could join a symphony, maybe go to Europe and play—” His eyes shone. “Things are not so easy for those of us who aren’t born duchesses, Jess. Even those two horrible maids—remember, they work because they have to and take orders because they are paid to.”

“It just seems like everything bad happens when you grow up,” Jessica sighed. “What are the advantages?”

The advantages, at least for a young duchess, were revealed soon enough. She was summoned to the drawing room and presented formally to her father and Anne—later she would suspect some conspiracy among Alan, Dolly, and the duchess.

“You’re a young lady now,” her father began without preamble. “And you look … you look a lot like your mother.” Jessica caught a quick frown on the duchess’s face, an iciness that came and went in an instant. “It’s time we started treating you like a young lady.”

“Jessica, your father and I would like to throw a party for you. Not a—not a coming-out party, but a sort of introduction to the country gentry,” the duchess said. “We shall hire some musicians, have a tea dance, invite some people your age…. How would you like that?”

Later Jessica would reflect that a
party
wouldn’t really make up for being forced to abandon most of her childhood acquaintances, but at that moment the thought of a glamorous affair thrown for
her,
with guests and boys and food and drink and dresses—for
her
—well, it seemed wonderful.

She nodded mutely.

“Excellent,” the duchess said, pleased. “We’ll make a real lady out of you yet.”

Jessica was sure she had heard those words somewhere before.

T
he duchess turned this way and that in front of the mirror that Alan held. She was wearing one of three possible dresses she had bought for the party. This one pushed her bust up very high, and cinched her waist so tightly she could barely breathe.

“So, Mirror,” she said lightly, admiring herself. “When the people talk, who do they say is the fairest in the country?”

“Always you, My Lady,” Alan answered, trying not to grunt under the weight of the gigantic glass. “People still discuss the blue outfit you wore to the concert, how you looked like a goddess of the sky.”

“Mmmm.” Her response was noncommittal, but her eyes narrowed approvingly, and her lips tightened to hide a self-satisfied smile. “And Jessica?”

“No one much talks about her being beautiful,” Alan said honestly, as he was forced. “They say she is a growing beauty, but even more they talk about what trouble she is to the servants.”

The duchess chuckled at this, then fixed her dark blue eyes on his lighter ones.

“And what of you? What do you think of our
little
duchess?”

Alan had known this question was coming. “As much as it may be permitted, I care for the young lady like she was my own sister.”

“Mmmm.” The duchess stared at him a moment, debating something internally. Then she went back to gazing at herself in the mirror. She touched herself lightly on the belly and frowned.

T
he first guests had already begun to arrive, a day early. Jessica peeped out from behind a bush to watch the coaches, carriages, and phaetons pull up and the splendidly dressed people step out: women in long gowns with large bustles and matching parasols, and men in dove-gray jackets and hats. Some of the dashing young men rode horses, cantering up the graveled path, gloved hands to their hats as they addressed the duchess.

Jessica was not to meet them formally until later and could hardly bear the anticipation.
This is for
me.
It’s just a party that the duchess is throwing but it’s really all for me.
She watched eagerly for people her own age and thought she saw a couple, a pair of strapping girls who, despite their size, seemed young.

“Hey! Jess!” Davey whispered from behind her. She spun around.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. This was
her
hiding spot. “Oh, and I suppose you’ve decided that it’s all right to talk to me now,” she added haughtily.

“Aw, Jess, c’mon.” He kicked his toe at the ground. “Tm trying to make it up to you.”

There was a long pause as Jessica glared at the boy and he tried to work up the courage to talk. “Me and Michael, we were … it’s just … we’re not wanting to get on the bad side of the duchess, yeah? I’m
apologizing
here”

That said, he sighed in relief. “Craddoc’s bitch had a litter of puppies last night. Want to come see? They’re playing with them now, in the clearing on the other side of the stream. You can choose one, as a birthday present,” he added hesitantly.

Jessica’s eyes lit up. A dog of her own! She was old enough. And from the looks of it, many of the girls and women arriving had small lapdogs that they or their servants carried in. Of course, she would miss the excitement of watching more people arrive, and she
was
supposed to get dressed and washed for when she was introduced later today….

“Thank you, Davey!” she said delightedly, and ran off to see the old gamekeeper. Along the way she managed to rip her petticoat and step into the stream, something she would no doubt be in trouble for later. All worries were forgotten when she saw the scene in the small clearing beyond: Craddoc and a few children sat around a big mother hound with six squirming babies, brown and cream and white.

“Oh, they’re
lovely
!” Jessica sat down in the grass next to the mother and tried to pet all of the puppies at once.

The old man laughed.

“Davey’s keeping one for himself,” he said, “but I
guess he told you about choosing one.”

It took her an hour to decide; they were all equally adorable. Finally she chose one with slightly more black than the rest. “I’ll keep her until she’s weaned,” Craddoc said. “Come back in a fortnight, and she’ll be all ready for you.”

Reluctantly Jessica left. It was probably past time for her to go home, in case she was missed. She took the back way so she could sneak in by the stables and not be seen; her hair was down, her face was muddy, and her dress was not
quite
ruined.

She turned the corner to the muddy courtyard and there was a boy there about Alan’s age, smoking a long, thin cigar.

He was handsome and well dressed, with brown wavy hair. His jacket fit him like a second skin. One shapely leg was propped on a barrel. He raised an eyebrow lazily in her direction.

“Hello,” Jessica said, trying to think of something quickly.

“Hello.” He looked her up and down. “Quite the preparations for a party going on there.”

“It would seem so,” she answered hesitantly.

“You’re all a mess—all covered in mud,” he observed. He pushed himself off the wall and sauntered over to her. She held her ground. Something wasn’t quite right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. The boy was handsome. Her heart raced.

He came closer. She didn’t move.

“Let me get some of that for you.” He reached
over, and with a long finger he delicately brushed some dirt off her cheek.

“Sir,” she began, uncertain of where any of this was going.

He put his hand around her shoulder and pulled Jessica in for a kiss.

Shocked, she let him.

My first kiss! I wonder if this means we are to be married
. He was certainly good looking enough for her, and the kissing itself was pleasant enough in a strange way, although he pushed his face into hers a little too hard.

Then he reached up and grabbed her breast.

“Stop it!” She pulled his hand away. His response was to pull her in to him harder, a hand around her waist. One of his legs locked around hers.

“Come on,” he whispered in her ear. “This might be your only chance for a
count.”
He grabbed her bottom with his other hand.

Wildly she tried to figure out what to do, what Alan would do, what one of Alan’s
sisters
would do.

She kneed him between his legs.

He let out a long groan of agony and released her, both actions immediately satisfying. He keeled over on the ground.

The momentary triumph faded for Jessica. She felt like throwing up.