Stepsister(16)

Isabelle shook her head, trying to clear it. She felt buffeted and unsteady, as if she were walking out of a heavy, roiling sea. “You … you chased them away?” she asked.

The woman laughed. “Chased? Child, these old legs couldn’t chase a snail. I was coming to speak with you. The girls scurried off as soon as they saw me.” She paused, then said, “You’re one of the ugly stepsisters, no? I thought I heard them call you that.”

Isabelle winced, bracing for a torrent of abuse, but none came. The woman merely clucked her tongue and said, “You are foolish to go out in public. Hard words cannot kill you, but hard rocks can. You must stay home where it’s safe.”

“Even ugly girls have to eat,” Isabelle said, shame coloring her cheeks.

The woman shook her head dolefully. “People will not forget. Or forgive. An ugly girl is too great an offense. Trust me, I am old and have seen much. Why, I’ve seen a dishonest girl who stole a king’s ransom of jewels be forgiven because of her pretty smile. And a violent girl who robbed coaches at gunpoint walk out of jail because of her long black lashes. Why, I even knew a murderous girl who escaped the gallows because she had full lips and dimples and the judge fell head over heels for her. But an ugly girl? Ah, child, the world is made for men. An ugly girl can never be forgiven.”

The woman’s words were like a knife between Isabelle's ribs. They pierced her so deeply, she found herself blinking back tears. “When I was small, I thought the world was made for me,” she said.

“Children always do,” the woman said sympathetically. “And lunatics. I’m sure you know better now, though. Do be careful. I doubt those girls will trouble you again but others may.”

“Thank you, madame,” Isabelle said. “I’m in your debt.”

“You may be able to repay it,” the woman said. She gestured at Isabelle’s cart. “Might I trouble you for a ride? We arrived at the village inn last night, my maidservant and I, and have been trying since early this morning to get to my relatives’ farm but can’t find anyone to take us.”

“Of course, I will take you, Madame … er, Madame …” Isabelle realized she did not know the woman’s name.

“Madame Sévèrine. I’m the great-aunt of poor Monsieur LeBenêt, who passed away a few months ago, God rest him. Tante Sévèrine, he called me when he was a boy. Tantine for short. And you must, too, dear girl. I wish to go to the LeBenêts’.”

Isabelle brightened. “Nothing could be easier, madame. The LeBenêts are our neighbors. What a coincidence!” she exclaimed, happy that she could help this woman who’d been kind enough to help her.

“Yes, what a coincidence,” said the old woman. A smile curved the corners of her mouth; it did not touch her eyes.

Isabelle explained that she had to wait for her sister, but as soon as she arrived, they would go to the inn and collect Madame’s trunk and her servant.

“Tantine,” the old woman corrected.

“Tantine,” Isabelle repeated. “Would you like to sit while we wait?” she asked.

“I would. These old bones tire easily.”

Isabelle helped her step up into the cart and settle herself on the wooden seat. She had warmed to this kindly old woman.

“Thank you, my child,” said Tantine. “I think we shall be good friends, you and I.”

“We’re lucky our paths crossed,” Isabelle said, smiling.

The old woman nodded. She patted her hand. “Some might call it luck. Myself? I’d call it fate.”





Eighteen


It was just before noon when Isabelle and Tavi headed out of the village with Tantine seated between them. The sun was high and the August day was scorchingly hot.

Losca, Tantine’s servant, a slight girl with a hooked nose, bright eyes, and ebony hair worn in a long braid, sat in the back of the cart on top of Tantine’s trunk. She said nothing as she rode; she just watched the scenery go by, tilting her head and blinking.

Martin plodded up the road as slowly as possible, which gave Tantine plenty of time to tell the girls why she had come to Saint-Michel.

“It’s this Volkmar business,” she said darkly. “I live in Paris, you see, and he intends to take it. The king has fortified the city, but people are still leaving in droves. I plan to stay here with my relatives for the foreseeable future. It’s the safest course. One must always follow the safest course.”

“The LeBenêts will be so relieved to have you safe and sound with them, Tantine,” Tavi said. “They must be worried about you.”

“The LeBenêts have no idea that I’m coming,” said Tantine. “We are not close. In fact, I’ve never met Madame LeBenêt. It was my husband who was related to Monsieur LeBenêt. My late husband, I should say. He passed away recently, too.”

Isabelle and Tavi expressed their condolences. Tantine thanked them.

“In his will, my husband left a sum of money to Monsieur LeBenêt,” she added. “Now I am wondering what to do with it. I’m told there is a son, Hugo, but I know nothing of the boy. I would like to see if he is the sort who will bring honor to the family name before I bestow the inheritance on him.”

I wish you luck, Isabelle thought. She’d known Hugo since they were children. He’d played pirates and musketeers with her and Felix a few times, always scowling behind his thick eyeglasses. In all the years she’d known him, he’d barely grunted three words to her. She doubted he’d grunt even one to Tantine.