Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales #3)(43)

Edward bundles me into the carriage. He knows what I’m thinking; he speaks before I open my mouth. “There is little I can do for her sister’s baby or her father, but I’ve asked Wellesley to keep an eye on her.”

I lay my head on his shoulder. “I know you’ve been doing your best, Edward. It’s just...I wish I could do something instead of buying flowers for her.”

“You have done a lot already. Remember the proposal you once drafted for compulsory education? I adapted it and wrote an article, which has sparked discussion among many intellectuals. While it isn’t as sensational as your interview of the factory children, I am confident that compulsory education will become enforced one day.”

“And it will be only the first step,” I say, recalling the many difficulties that Princess College had. I had seen the building last time I went downtown. I hated the front gate closed shut with a large padlock on it. When will the school be opened again? When will I see the girls reciting in class or flocking in the corridors, instead of huddling in the snow-clad streets?

Edward plucks a violet and pins the flower on my hair. “Don’t be disheartened, love. There are also many others working hard to achieve our goals. And when you’re princess, you’ll have even more power and influence to do good work.”

But we don’t know how and when I can be princess again. And then I remember running into Elle, and that she had formed a Children’s Education League. If I can’t figure out how to deal with Katriona Bradshaw, I’ll see what I can do with realizing compulsory education for Athelia’s children.



* * *



The Hungry Boar is an inn located smack bang in the city centre. A glance at the boisterous crowd inside tells me it caters to a lower-middle-class/upper-lower-class background. It’s actually not that different from the spicy food restaurant that Edward used to take me out for dinner. God, I miss those days.

The barmaid barely spares me a glance as she squeezes by, balancing a tray of empty mugs. I have to raise my voice or she would have gone on.

“Sorry, but would you mind telling me where the meeting for children’s education is held? I’m told that they have a schedule today in here.”

“Over there in the back.” She grumbles with a jerk of her chin. For a split second, I wish Edward was here with me. I’m sure that the barmaid wouldn’t be so indifferent .

I find the conference room in the back—well, technically it’s not a room, but rather partitioned off the main area. There’s a cluster of tables; I make my way to an empty chair, when I spot Elle, who’s distributing printed sheets.

“You came!” Surprised delight floods her pretty face, as though she couldn’t believe I’d show up. “It’s lovely to see you, Kat. Sit here with me?”

“Thanks.” I take off my coat; thankfully it’s warm and toasty in here. “What’s on the agenda?”

“We’re trying to calculate how many petitions we’ve had so far, and what we can do to improve.” Elle hands me a sheet. There’s a headline, tagline, and a short paragraph—I recognize a few phrases from my proposal. On the bottom of the sheet is a space for signing one’s name. “Our aim is to accumulate over a thousand, so the members of parliament will recognize this is a cause many people care about. His Highness was among the first to sign.” A smile blossoms on her lips. “Henry also signed. His Highness was kind enough to obtain his signature, so I wouldn’t have to worry about the sheet getting lost in mail.”

“That’s great.” I ask her for a pen and sign ‘Katherine Wilson’ on the sheet. I also inform her in a low voice that I now have an identity—Mr. Wellesley’s adopted granddaughter. “There, you have one more. How many do we have so far?”

Elle purses her lips. “Only a little over three hundred, but Parliament has only just begun. We still have a few months to gather enough signatures.”

The tables gradually fill up with the other members of the Children’s Education League. Some of them give off a scholarly air—I guess they’re from the University. A few well-dressed ladies who seem to be upper middle-class. Several men in overalls—I recognize Una’s uncle, who was also involved in the child labor campaign.

Elle bangs a fist on the table, which surprises me. She has come a long way from the shy, soft-spoken girl who never dared to contradict her employers.

“May I have your attention?” She waits until everyone ceases talking and continues to speak. “Thank you for coming today. I appreciate that you’ve taken the time, and I know how busy you all are. By the way, I’d like to introduce my friend, Katherine Wilson. She had inspired me the idea of compulsory education for children. Please welcome her.”

There’s a polite smattering of applause.

“Isn’t that the princess?” One of the well-dressed ladies asks.

“No, but they look extraordinarily alike,” Elle says, sending me a reassuring glance that seems to say ‘I’ve got this.’ “Kat is the granddaughter of a bookstore owner—perhaps you are acquainted with Mr. Wellesley, who runs The Bookworm?”

There’s a murmur of confusion, but Elle redirects their attention by shifting the topic. She jumps straight to the issue: how many signatures everyone has gathered so far, and what we should do to motivate more people to support our cause.