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We arrived home. I saw the men we had spoken with earlier in the day just leaving, carrying a stretcher with Algernon’s body under a length of white linen.

Mother was just inside, sitting beside the fireplace and staring into the fire’s depths, unresponsive as we walked past. Our housekeeper was bustling around making tea and cookies. Cynthia was nowhere in sight. I exchanged one last glance with Comfort before I plodded up the stairs to my bedroom, thinking all the time about what we could do about family’s money struggles.

I didn’t see Cynthia again for several days. I had no idea where she went, but she turned up again just before Algernon’s funeral. Burrs were tangled into her hair, she was covered in dirt and grime, and just as Mother had after Father’s death, it looked like Cynthia had aged years in just a few days.

Comfort and I hadn’t known Algernon well enough to know what his final wishes were, and he had been in no state in his last few days to ask. His funeral was conducted in a similar fashion to Fathers, so Comfort told me. Everyone who had known Algernon gathered around the stream in the town square, and after the priest spoke, we all told of our favorite memories with him. Once each person had finished telling what they remembered, they tossed a flower into the stream and watched as it was carried away.

Cynthia had scrubbed herself clean before the ceremony, but she looked transformed by her sorrow. She could barely speak as she told about her childhood memories with her dad, their travels together, his teaching her to cook, the times he would take her to the Fairy Godmother Tree and tell her that her mother was still watching over her. Everyone murmured words of condolences as they watched the rose she threw in float downstream.

After the funeral was over, we walked slowly back home. The house seemed somehow emptier than it had when it was just me, Comfort, and Mother living here before we knew Algernon. Cynthia was the saddest sight of all, dragging her feet all the way back to the house. She hadn’t had any family members that attended Algernon’s funeral. Cynthia was all he had had. And now Cynthia had no one.

The housekeeper had laid out a lunch for us, but Cynthia didn’t want to eat. She simply retreated back to her room and didn’t emerge for days. I had the housekeeper set food outside her bedroom door, and I would leave different books and activities outside her door. I was sure she wouldn’t have any interest in them, but I wanted to help her to feel better in any small way I could. I imagined this was how Comfort had felt after Father had passed away and she saw Mother and I consumed by our grief.

True to my word, I didn’t mention our family’s dwindling finances to Mother. She constantly sat in front of the fire, day after day, just watching the flames leap and dance about. I worked diligently with the few clients I had to earn a few more coins, which I would then turn over to Comfort. She spent increasing amounts of time poring over budgets and ledgers, calculating and recalculating expenses.

Cynthia slowly began moving about the house again, but very slowly, without the pep she usually did everything with. I hoped that our emerging friendship would blossom, and that I would come to think of her as a close sister, not just a distant stepsister. But she seemed too far away and detached to have any kind of deep conversation with her. I continued to try and do things for her, but was unsure what would be most significant. She didn’t read any of the books I lent her, wasn’t interested in the cross stiches or knitting supplies I left, and avoided her previous love of cooking.

I was at a loss. How was I supposed to help someone who didn’t want to be helped?

The weeks crawled by, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before Comfort told Mother and Cynthia about our dire circumstances. Finally, that day arrived.

CHAPTER 34

“Family meeting,” Comfort called through the door. “Get down to the drawing room now!”

I trudged down to the sitting room. Cynthia was sitting huddled in an armchair, her face red and splotchy from crying. As they had done so often lately, my memories flashed back to after Father had died, and it seemed like Mother and I had done nothing but cry for weeks. But for Cynthia, the pain must be even worse, since she now had no family at all. She had lost the only parent she had ever known. She had no one left. No one but us.

My heart ached for her. While Comfort went to rouse Mother, I slipped into the kitchen and brought back a cup of hot tea for Cynthia, which I placed on the table beside her. She ignored it, or else was so overcome by her grief that she didn’t notice. I understood only too well.

Comfort marched Mother into the room, then stood by the fireplace, arms folded, looking at us with narrowed eyes.

“We are out of money,” Comfort announced.

This information visibly concerned Mother but didn’t register at all to Cynthia.

“Is everything gone?” I asked.

“Almost everything, yes,” Comfort stated firmly. “With Algernon’s funeral expenses, settling all of his business debts, and no income, our savings have been drained very quickly, especially with paying our hired help. I dismissed the housekeeper today, and we need to find a way to earn some money.”

“Us? Find work?” Mother asked, as if she was testing out the sound of the words.

“Yes,” Comfort said the word harshly. I was forcibly reminded of the family meeting she had called after Father’s funeral, when she had insisted we leave the castle and forge a new life for ourselves. This felt very similar. Again, our lives had been upended.

Comfort turned her attention to me. “Truly, you are the only one of us that has brought in a steady income. Would you be able to expand your translating business?”

“I suppose,” I contemplated. “Small town merchants don’t pay much, but I could try.”

“Something is better than nothing. Mother? What are your ideas?”

Mother shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Comfort fell silent, pondering. I thought too. What was it that Mother was good at? Dancing, singing, decorating, organizing parties. None of those things would be profitable, unless…The answer suddenly seemed obvious, as if my mind had been working over the problem for the last several weeks. “Mother! You and Comfort can open a finishing school!”

Comfort nodded vigorously. “That is an excellent suggestion!”

“Teach?” Mother mused. “An interesting thought, but is there a market for it here?”

“Haven’t you seen these village girls?” Comfort scoffed. “They have no fashion sense, no knowledge of etiquette, and yet all of the families want them to have advantageous marriages. This is a perfect plan for us!” I recalled the garish gowns that had been worn during Mother and Algernon’s engagement party, and the ugly dresses featured in the tailor shop window. No fashion sense at all was right.