The Pretense (Chapter 1)

The Pretense (Chapter 1)

CHAPTER 1

And Mother was bound to send me to a Lady’s Etiquette Boarding School, I scoffed in my thoughts as I secured the tie around my neck and straightened the white collar around it. She had talked about that place with such high regards ever since I was a baby, and always bragged to her friends about shipping her daughter there as soon as she came of age to be boarded. She told me she would be so proud of me and watch me grow into a proper young lady, learning things she could never teach me.

I never actually thought the day would come when Mother deliberately called a boarding school carriage to ride me from Courtiege to Brankston, a long leap away. I especially thought that fantasy of hers was cancelled when we hit a financial breakdown in the family, after the first divorce, before she devoted herself to the handsome Thomas Bulleger. So I let Mother dress me in bows and ribbons and dresses through my life, just as long as it meant I was still at home.

Then Mother did marry Mr. Bulleger. The morning of December ninth came, and Mother bore me the ‘fantastic’ news. She told me to pack my bags with as much of my finest things I could fit while she and Mr. Bulleger went out to visit Grandmother for the day and tell her of my acceptance there. The carriage was to arrive first thing in the morning the next day.

I went to my brothers about the ordeal first, sure that I would have to leave home to solve it. At eleven years old each, the twins were two years younger than me, but I consoled so much in them. It wasn’t as if I looked any older, anyway. If anything, they were even a bit bigger than me.

“I can’t blame you for wanting to leave,” Basil said lightly. He and Baxter were identical twins, but I knew Basil was always more intellectual. Baxter was the rougher, more inconsiderate type. “Mother can be so selfish, and I don’t think she would listen if you said you weren’t fond of going.”

“But I shall have to leave you both behind,” I groaned. “I couldn’t leave my poor little brothers to deal with that woman…who knows where she might send you both with her daughter gone?”

“Don’t worry about us, sis,” Baxter chipped in. “We’ve got a place where we’re workin’ and I don’t think Mother would abandon some extra cash. Plus Mr. Briggs really likes us and says we do his business good. If Mother tried to send us away, he’d not allow it.”

Basil agreed. “And if Mr. Briggs didn’t help, we would be on the next trolley out of here in a heartbeat. We’ll be fine, and you won’t really be leaving us behind.” He put his hand over his heart. “We’ll always have you here.”

I smiled adoringly at the both of them. “Still, the streets are dangerous to women. What would I do if some man decided to whisk me away to who-knows-where?”

Baxter raised a finger. “You don’t look like a lady much, ‘cept for your hair,” he consoled. “You’re really quite flat and if you have curves, I’ve never seen ‘em—

Basil nudged him in the side angrily to shut him up before he said any more. “In a nicer way of going about it,” Basil continued for him, “you could easily pass as either one of us. You’re our size; I could lend you one of my outfits and Mother would never be the wiser.”

Baxter tried to clear up what he had said earlier, though it had been true, and gave some more helpful advice. “All you would have to do is cut your hair.”

“Excellent, you two,” I commended them. “But are you sure you’ll be okay?” I placed my right hand on Basil’s cheek, and my left on Baxter’s. “You have to be the men of the house. Father isn’t here any longer, and Mr. Bulleger surely can’t be trusted with that job. Are you ready for it?”

Their faces lit up. “Yes!” they exclaimed in unison.

“But sister,” Basil continued, holding my hand, “we have to go to work soon. We’ll be there till late, and you shall have to depart before Mother returns. You’ll come tell us goodbye before you leave, won’t you?”

It seemed reasonable. We could meet where we always did—in the alley behind Mr. Briggs’s shop. “Of course I will.”

“Where’re you going to go?” Baxter asked, curious. I hadn’t thought about that, but there was one place I always dreamed of seeing. A place so beautiful, so safe, and so equal that many people thought it was a fairytale. But it was on the map, discovered, documented, and populated. Now was my chance to travel to North Courtier and fulfill my dreams there.

“I’ll go to North Courtier,” I told them confidently. “It’ll take me some time to travel there, so I’ll need provisions and silver.”

“North Courtier!” Basil marveled. “I’ve only dreamed of seeing that place! Will you send letters to us? Through the shop’s address, perhaps, so Mother won’t find out?”

“I’ll do my best,” I assured them. They grinned from ear to ear. And so here I was, buttoning Basil’s vest over the collared shirt, and getting used to my image in the mirror. Boys get all the luxuries, I thought dully; these are much easier to wear.

I hurried downstairs, watching my time carefully to make sure I left before Mother and Mr. Bulleger returned. I scrambled through the kitchen, packing food in a large napkin. I tied it carefully together at the top and wandered to the safe with it hanging from my hand at my side. As soon as I had a decent amount of silver in my pocket, I ran back into the kitchen, scrounged for a knife, and used it to saw my locks of long, black hair off as close as I could get them to my head.

A quick glance in the foyer mirror suggested that the cut wasn’t so bad. My hair looked like a boy’s; choppy and tossed over my scalp unevenly. It felt so much lighter, and looked so much better than the curls and pins Mother styled it in heavily every day. I grinned, threw my hair into the fire, and stepped cautiously out the front door, into the dim light of sunset, should anyone chance to see me that knew my family.

No one traveled up the street at this hour, and that was all for the better. I ran clear of the doorway and started in a hasty trot up the street, to see my brothers at Mr. Briggs’s shop. I might have been easier to catch a trolley, but they never passed back this way at this time of night, either. So I kept my steady canter, panting and fighting the steep hill on the right side of the trolley line.

When I reached the top where the cobblestone street leveled again, I found Mr. Briggs’s shop at the edge of the hill, looking as if it would tip over the edge in shambles at any second, the way it was built. It was lit inside with customers gathering round my brothers in the center of the store. I came up to the window and knocked on it, catching Basil’s attention. He tapped Baxter and pointed to me, and they both stared a few seconds. I waved, they smiled, and we met in the alley.

They both hugged me at once, nearly knocking me backward into the crates Mr. Briggs stored here. Basil was the first to look up at me and muss my hair.

“It’s so short!” he laughed teasingly. “I wasn’t sure if it was really you until you waved, Cam!”

“You look like our triplet!” Baxter added. I snorted and ruffled their hair in return.

“How could you not know your own sister when you saw her?” I played, not truly angry. We hugged again.

“Do you promise to write us?” Basil asked pleadingly. Baxter handed me a worn piece of parchment with the address of Mr. Briggs’s store scribbled on it, just in case I forgot.

“I promise,” I said. “When I make it to North Courtier, I’ll write you both lots and lots. You won’t even know what to do with all of my letters.”

“What’re you going to do once you get there?” Baxter inquired. “Are you going to dress as a lady again?”

I sighed. That was also something I’d not thought of. “Probably not. With hair such as this? And as a lady, I would never find a job that would hire me…not many people put women in service. If I want to make myself money to buy food with, I’m going to need to keep this get up.”

“You could always dress yourself as a maid and acquire shelter in a big home that way,” Basil suggested. “You would get food for working and not have to pay for it, too.”

“That’s a consideration, though I don’t really want to devote myself as a maid and spend my time cleaning. Doesn’t that sound boring to you?”

Basil shook his head. “It sounds safe.” Baxter nodded in agreement, and held my hand like he used to when he was younger, before his boyish pride-and-reputation got in the way.

I giggled. “I’m out to seek my real place in the world. I want to make a living, find a job I enjoy, and experience the life of adventure you boys get to lead. Being female and having everyone know so comes with a list of limitations and rights and wrongs. Chasing your dreams isn’t always going to be safe, guys.”

They glanced at each other, and one of them sighed, long and hard. “We know,” Basil admitted.

“I have to go now,” I said, watching the sun disappear under the distant hills. “I need to get a good start on my travels.” We embraced a third time, and I put my hands on their shoulders encouragingly.

“We love you,” Baxter said softly. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought he and Basil switched places when I blinked. But Baxter had a certain dignity in his eyes that showed he wasn’t about to cry. Basil looked as if he were near crying when he bobbed his head in response to Baxter’s remark.

“I love you both, too,” I murmured, placing my hands back at my sides, the sack of food still clasped in my left. “Be good for me, okay? Protect the house.”

“We will,” Basil promised. “We’ll do a real good job of it.” I backed away slowly, and half-turned to the street outside the alley, waving to them as I went. They waved in return, and Basil shamefully rubbed his eyes dry with a black cuff.

“Don’t forget to write,” Baxter reminded me again. I smiled and turned wholly, striding my way back out the alley, making sure not to look back in case it pained me into staying. Basil’s fine-soled shoes clopped against the cobblestone as I came to a run again, straight along the trolley line. My next stop before I really made for the town border and went on my merry way across the plains would be the bar, I figured. I’d been in there many a time, but not to drink myself silly as most men did on cool nights like these.

The man that worked there, Gerard, had known me since I was very small. He looked out for me even now, and made sure to say hello whenever we passed on the streets. I figured it wouldn’t be fair to vanish into thin air without so much as a goodbye.

I slipped into the noisy bar up ahead carefully, and pushed my way through the raucous hoards of gentlemen, to the bar, where Gerard cleaned out glasses with a towel. His eyes sagged a little, as if he hadn’t gotten any sleep in a long while. I slapped my hand on the bar to get his attention on me, and smiled.

“You seem like an awfully young fella to be in here looking for a drink,” he stated, shrugging. “What can I get you?”

I shook my head, forgetting that I didn’t look like a miss anymore. I found it funny, though, that he didn’t recognize my face at first. I smiled and waited for him.

His eyes widened under his sagging brows. “Cam—

I put my finger over my mouth and shushed him. He motioned me to hop the bar and join him in the back, amongst the clean glasses and stored kegs of beer.

“What is this?” he chuckled, tugging on a tuft of my hair. “I heard you’d be leaving for a boarding school, or so say the rumors. Everyone says your mother’s bragging all over town about it!”

“Did you think I was going to let her send me to board with a bunch of pompous ladies?” I said. “This is a disguise to help keep me safe while I travel; I’m not about to stay here as long as Mother’s planning to have me shipped off. I came to tell you goodbye.”

“And I’m glad you did,” he said cheerily. “I thought for sure I wouldn’t get to see you before you were sent away. You sure fooled me, too; you look more like one of your brothers. Where’re you headed off to?”

“I’m aiming for North Courtier,” I told him brightly. “I’ve always want to see it, and since I’m going to travel in search of a different life, I thought, ‘Why not?’”

“Ah, that’ll be a good place for you. It’s like heaven there, everyone says. You’ll be safe in a town like that. People tell me that’s where dreams come true.”

“I sure hope so,” I whispered. “I should go and get a start on the plains.”

“Indeed you should. Bye, Cam. Hope your life leads you places on high,” he said, patting my shoulder. He winked and moseyed on to the back of the glass racks to find a spot for the one he had just dried.

“Take care,” I called after him, and went back out behind the bar, into the noisy chatter of heartbroken husbands and overworked cargo men. I put my hands gently atop the bar’s polished, wooden surface to haul myself up and over, but I didn’t quite get to do so. A bald sailor with bloodshot eyes slammed his empty glass down before me and struggled to hold himself up on the bar beneath weak knees.

“Boy!” he stammered in a loud, drunken tone. I flinched and glanced, frightened, from one side of the room to the other. “Boy! Another—hic—another round!”

I couldn’t keep my eyes on his sorry face; in fact, I purposely tried not to look at him. My eyes drifted instead from a shady figure in the corner to the other foolhardy men enjoying themselves atop full glasses of beer.

“Boy!” he insisted, slamming the glass down again. I pulled my fingers back, afraid he might hit them with it and froze, pondering what to do. It would have done me good to go back in and fetch Gerard for him, but my legs froze over my shaking knees. I had to say something.

“I…um, I don’t…I don’t…” I fumbled for words. The shady figure watched now, along with some of the others in the bar. The man before me gave a sour glare, pulled me down to the bar by my vest, and yanked my face not two inches from his. I gulped. All my sense returned to me. What was I doing in a bar? Gerard or no Gerard present, I wasn’t a man. I couldn’t defend myself in the slightest from these thoughtless fools. As a woman, they either flirted (which I could ignore and dodge) or kept their distance if they were sober enough. If it was man to man, they would fight.

“Don’t give me your flack,” he slurred, drooling from one side of his mouth. Sprays of his spit dampened my face, and I had to hold my breath to keep from choking on his rank breath. “Ignorant…!”

Before I knew what happened, the drunk pulled and flung me over the top of the bar. I half-landed on my face, and struggled, still shocked, to get back up onto my feet and hurry away from the danger. As I came to my knees, a hand grabbed my collar and tossed me sideways, in the middle of what appeared to be one, large scuffle. Those in the bar who thought taking sides and beating each other senseless was great fun grabbed chairs and swung them, and held their mates in headlocks. The clamor brought Gerard back out. He stood, overwhelmed behind the bar as I crawled out of the way of fists and chair legs.

The man who started it all apparently still hadn’t forgotten about me. He came trudging after with his glass in one hand and a stool in the other, until I backed up against a wall, and had nowhere else to dodge him. He lifted the stool, and I cringed away, expecting to be hit.

A while after I realized I hadn’t been, I looked up again and caught a glimpse of someone in front of me, fighting him for the stool, and talking sense to him. I sat frozen while they brawled, and thought for sure that the thin man before me—the same shady figure I had looked to in order to avoid looking at the sailor—stood no chance. But he held his ground rather well, and eventually managed to take the stool and throw it aside.

The sailor stood in a daze for a couple minutes, and during that time, the stranger hooked me under the arm and lifted me up to my feet. Instead of attacking again, it seemed as if the drunken sailor had reached his limit, and fell over backwards, either from overexertion or simply too much beer. Gerard called to me and asked if I had been hurt, but I didn’t have the opportunity to answer. The shadow-man tugged me outside of the bar, which was probably for the best anyway, in case any other drunk found a fight with me.

When the man stopped moving, I did, too. He backed off a ways, and let me brush myself off and get my wits about me. Once I shook the fright of the situation off, I looked up to thank the man.

He shook his head and waved his hand at me. “What was a young lad such as yourself doing in a bar on such a night?” he asked instead.

“The bartender…he’s a friend of mine,” I answered choppily, wondering how much that fight in the bar had delayed me. Mother would be searching already before I hit the fields, I thought gruesomely, biting my lip. “I came to tell him goodbye before I set off.”

“For where, may I ask?” he said in a warm tone.

“For North Courtier,” I told him, seeing no wrong in it. “And I really must be going. I’m delayed now.”

He put up a hand. “Hold on a second, lad,” he ordered, tipping his hat with the other. “Would you, by any chance, consider working under my arm as an apprentice?”

“Working for you?” I gawked, trying to hide the tone that came with the statement. “If you live here in Courtiege, I’m afraid I can’t.” That was a lighter way of declining. I wouldn’t consider working for him anyways, whether he lived here or not, but that didn’t mean I had to be impolite about it. Apprenticeship wasn’t what I had in mind at all for a future; it fell into the same category as being a maid.

“I don’t live here,” he said as a wide, black carriage pulled up behind him, towed by starlight horses with neatly cropped tails and beautiful fur. I started, afraid that it would be Mother’s. She usually rode in one that looked as fancy as this one did. My fears vanished when the door opened, and no one seemed to be inside. I didn’t recognize the driver atop it, either, and Mother usually used the same man. “I live far away, between the Backlands and the lovely city of Tiergrande.”

That was beyond even North Courtier, I mused, surprised. “So don’t tell me you’ve traveled all this way for a glass of beer,” I grumbled. “That would be an awful shame, and such a waste of time, too.”

“I came here, dear boy, in search of an apprentice, as I’ve said before.”

I straightened the tie around my neck. “Then it seems you shall have to keep looking. Thank you for the save, but I really should be going—

“That’s exactly it,” he said, flipping his top hat over his hand. “It looks as if it will be you, considering that I saved your life. One bash to the head from that stool, and someone your age would be sent to the grave.” I sank within myself, because he was right.

“And I take it you don’t do people favors without something in return,” I guessed.

“Exactly right.”

I thought of a different way to dig myself out of this. “Look, I’m really grateful and everything, but I really have to get out of here. I’m trying to escape my mother, and—

“Perfect, we can leave as soon as now,” he chirped, refusing to budge in any way at all. He directed a hand to the giant black carriage and waiting horses, bowing as he did so. I wanted to run, but I figured that would be wrong, too. Guilt overcame me under the knowing that he had saved my life, and I was talking to him right now because of that. Why did I have to be a woman? If I was a boy, and one like Baxter, I could just run and laugh at him. But I had a conscience, something which Baxter must have lost.

“That’s your carriage?” I croaked. “Who are you?”

“Chandler Kindling,” he replied, and the name struck me like a knife. Everybody knew about the famed Mr. Kindling. Everybody. I knew, too, for I had heard gossip and all kinds of tales about him and his home near the Backlands. Until now, I hadn’t seen the dark rings that gathered beneath his black eyes, and I hadn’t put them together with the sandy hair that fluffed out in wavy, wayward tousles when he removed his hat. How could I not have seen it?

I was doomed. I could have died where I was standing if it wasn’t for my urgent need to escape my mother before she came looking. “What do you need an apprentice for?” I said as my final protest before I resigned myself to stepping in his carriage.

“For show,” he replied, whipping his hat back on. “And I’m in need of a pair of strapping young arms to do work around my home. Consider it as paying me back for how I saved you today, young man.”

I sulked into his carriage and sat on the opposite side of him, admiring the crimson interior. And then it struck me. He thinks I’m a boy. He truly, really thinks I’m a young gentleman. Anyone who took in my face long enough would see through me and know that I’m not, or I thought so. Was this man oblivious or just stupid?

Or was my disguise really so deceiving? I had only intended it to deceive passerby’s…

The carriage started. “You don’t work around your home yourself?” I mumbled.

He glared up from under the brim of his top hat. “Why should I?”

Of course. My family was rich because of Father, and most recently after that, because of Mr. Bulleger. I never did any work about the house, nor did mother or the twins. We had maids for that.

“And you don’t have any maids?”

“Consider yourself one.” Mr. Kindling was impossible.

“Being a maid is woman’s work,” I grunted. Did he know nothing?

“Not in my home, it isn’t. A woman couldn’t work in my home and live through a day.”

Just what I needed. How could I expect to work in his home if I was a woman myself? Wouldn’t it just be better to admit to him that I’m not really a boy? Maybe then he wouldn’t make me pay him back for the save in the bar. But he would most likely drop me off on the spot, and, considering how late it had gotten, the whole neighborhood would be out looking for me at Mother’s command. Anything but Mother, I thought, grimacing.

I rested my elbow on my knee and put a hand over my eyes. From popular rumor, Mr. Kindling didn’t like ladies much, though the ones from Tiergrande went out of their way to catch his eye. It was no doubt that if I confessed to him my gender and told him of my problem with my mother, he would declare it none of his business, and leave me to hide away in Courtiege from the searchers. Mother would find me in no time that way.

“You’ll board at my home, too, considering yours will be so far away. But I assume you already knew that. I don’t believe I’ve asked; what is your name, son?”

My name? I couldn’t tell him my actual name. The first one I thought of came out instead. “Basil.”

“Basil what, may I ask?” I stared dumbly at his coal eyes, trying to come up with a decent last name for myself.

“After,” I told him without thinking too deeply on it. “Basil After.”