Evie

It’s something I recall Mr. Livingston saying to my father at the May Day festival yesterday, that he had a new rifle he meant to sight the following morning. Thinking of my narrow miss, I realize only now how stupid I was, hanging around the back edge of Mr. Livingston’s property when he’d clearly stated his intention. I was so nervous about the prospect of being caught trespassing that it completely slipped my mind.

But it didn’t slip Yelena’s.

She was there too in that moment, listening to Father’s conversation with her date. There’s no way she could have missed it. And there’s no way it was a coincidence she sent me on an errand to pick those particular mushrooms that only grow in that precise location—at that exact time of day. I recall now how she was in such a hurry, insistent I leave without even stopping for breakfast…

She wanted me there when those guns went off. She planned it.

It’s a leap, I tell myself as I sit alone in my room, breathless with my run back to the house. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. But then I remember the look she gave me through the crowd yesterday, just before she knocked my brooch into the well. She knew I was there; she knew I was watching. And she chose that exact moment to let it slip.

If my growing suspicions are true, Yelena isn’t the person I believed her to be. All this time, I truly thought she was ignorant of the suffering she caused me. I assumed every bad thing that happened to me was merely a coincidence, but now…

I rise from my bed abruptly, determinedly. I march through the house, ignoring Mrs. Agate’s call for me to help peel carrots in the kitchen, and go straight to my father’s room. I knock without hesitating, and wait for him to summon me inside.

He looks up from his desk, startled to see me. Then annoyed.

“Evangeline,” he greets me coldly. “What brings you here at this hour?”

“I wanted to confirm something with you, Father. Yesterday, didn’t Mr. Livingston say he’d purchased a new rifle?”

“That’s right, he said he wanted to try it out this morning.”

“Did he mention where he’d be shooting?”

“On the back edge of his property. Is this what you’re bothering me for? You might have asked Yelena, she was there the whole time.”

“Was she? That’s strange…”

“What’s strange?” he asks, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

“Yelena’s the one who sent me on an errand to the back edge of Mr. Livingston’s property this morning,” I say, and he freezes mid-gesture. “I had a bullet sink into the tree just a foot away from me. My ears are still ringing with the report.”

Father’s mouth falls open in disbelief. Then he closes it, blinking rapidly. At last he speaks. “You’re unharmed?”

“By the grace of Providence, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad for that. Next time, be more careful. You have no business, hanging around Mr. Livingston’s property.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t have been there at all, if Yelena hadn’t sent me.”

“Are you implying something?” he demands sharply. “Because if you are, you can save your breath. You know Yelena would never deliberately put you in harm’s way.”

“No? Because it seemed pretty deliberate to me. The errand, the time of day, the prior knowledge she had—it all worked out very neatly. Or at least it would have, if Mr. Livingston had aimed his rifle a little to the left…”

“That’s enough!” Father roars, slamming his desk with both hands. “I’ve had enough of your suspicions and accusations! No one in this house is out to get you, and if you persist in trying to harm the family with your unfounded paranoia, I will teach you a lesson myself. Now get out! And don’t trouble me again with this foolishness,” he harrumphs loudly and makes an effort to smooth his hair with a rough hand. I watch him silently, then he explodes again, “Get out!”

I leave discouraged. I thought maybe this time Father would believe me, but even now he takes Yelena’s side, not doubting her even for a moment.

Have I gone too far, after all? Maybe I really am paranoid. It’s one thing to accuse her of deliberately losing my heirloom, it’s another entirely to suspect her of trying to get me killed.

Mulling over these troubling thoughts, I begin my descent down the stairs when a sharp shove catches me in the middle of my back. With a little scream I start to fall, and it’s once again by the grace of Providence that my hand just so happens to catch the railing. Not completely, it slips off right away, but it’s enough to keep me from careening to my death. Thanks to the little break I manage to land on my hip and slide to the floor in my tangled up skirts.

I hit the floor with a thump, too shocked to do anything but stare straight ahead of me. After a few moments pass and the initial shock wears off, I come to myself with a startling realization.

Did someone just—push me?!

I look quickly to the top of the stairs, but there’s no one there. I want to run up and check, but my legs won’t obey me. Then a shadow swallows me, and I turn to look up at my stepmother Laura’s hateful face.

Her hard black shoe catches me straight in the gut and I bend double, all the wind knocked out of me. She kicks me again in the face; only my quick reflexes save my eye from the pointed toe of her shoe. But she isn’t finished.

Laura kicks and stomps me relentlessly, raining down blows that I struggle to block with my arms, instinctively defending all my vital points as I curl up in a fetal position.

“Wicked, ungrateful girl!” I hear her cursing me. “Trying to get my Yelena into trouble with her father! Even now, you’ve yet to learn your place!”

I can do nothing but defend myself and wait for the blows to stop. But it’s funny. As I endure the beating, out of the corner of my eye I see a hazy figure standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at me pitilessly.

Yelena.

I blink and she’s gone. But I’m sure of what I’ve just seen. Stepmother may be beating me for going to Father, but Sister tried to kill me for it.

At last Stepmother’s wrath is satisfied. She berates me some more and warns me to never cause trouble again, but I hardly hear her.

Is this how you felt, Mother? I ask myself when Laura finally leaves me there, bruised and beaten at the bottom of the very stairs where my mother fell to her death.

No. I’m sure for you the pain was much worse than this. Mother…

With a grunt, I push myself up into a sitting position. Then I tense as I hear light footsteps coming down the stairs. I turn and look up to see Yelena’s concerned face.

“Sister! What happened to you?” she comes to my side, kneeling before me to take my hands. I pull away from her with a hiss of pain. I still don’t know yet if anything’s broken.

“You know very well what happened. You two were in on it together.”

“It looks like you’ve fallen down the stairs, how awful,” she ignores my accusation, her eyes wide with sympathy. “Here, let me help you to your room.”

“Don’t touch me. I’m going to tell Father what you did. I’ll tell Father—”

“Tell him what? That you were clumsy and fell down the stairs?” All the sweetness has gone out of her voice. I look up into her face, and she wears a mocking smile the likes of which I’ve never seen. I don’t know this person, I think. I’ve never seen her before in my life.

Yelena laughs, but it’s not the usual melodic sound. Instead it is biting and cruel, dripping with caustic venom. “You really think he’ll believe you when you tell him I pushed you and Mother beat you? He’ll beat you himself for such accusations.”

My eyes widen at the reality of her words. How naïve can I be? Did I really think these two would just confess to their wrongdoings when I went to Father? They’ll gang up on me, all three of them, and make my hellish life even worse.

“I’ll leave,” I say, tears filling my eyes. “I’m leaving this place. I won’t put up with it anymore.”  

“You’ll leave?” Yelena cocks her head innocently, but her face is twisted with cruel amusement at my declaration. “And go where, Evangeline? The whorehouse? You don’t have a penny to your name, you don’t have a trade. You think people will take you in out of charity? They might, if you were as pretty as me. But looking as you are…” she takes my face in her little hands with a strength that surprises me. I try to pull away, but I’m too weak to fight her as she scrutinizes me. She smirks with disdain, then bursts out laughing.

“You should have seen yourself. You looked so stupid, falling down those stairs. I’m sure your mother looked just as stupid the night she fell…”