Page 27 of The Starling and the Hatter

Elise had never told me all the details of what had happened to her before she found us. I only knew she had no family and she’d spent her entire life as a festival rat, following the southern route before coming to Dressle and becoming the Starling. “Perhaps he didn’t recognize you,” I suggested as the knot in her laces came loose.

She scoffed, pulling at the laces to loosen them more and pushing the dress down around her ankles before stepping out of it. “I don’t look that different,” she said, her voice sharp.

I started backing out of the little changing room, avoiding the sight of Elise in only her chemise and stays with practiced determination. I ducked under the rope and let the curtain fall between us, taking a deep breath and trying to cool the heat that filled my chest and head. “Perhaps you’ll see him again.” The words were bitter on my tongue.

“When?” she asked. “This is our last day here. I’m not going to find him.”

“This day isn’t over yet. If it’s that important, you could wander around and find him. Does he work the festivals? Would he have a booth?” I wanted to yell at myself to stop being so blasted helpful.

The sound of rustling fabric stopped and I could almost hear her thinking. “Maybe,” she said quietly. “But what if he’s here with his family…” She trailed off and I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me anymore.

“Do you not like his family?” I asked, hoping to tease out any little detail she might share about her past life.

“It isn’t that. I just…want to avoid the people who used to know me.”

Her words were a little nonsensical. She was desperate to find this former friend yet wanted to avoid anyone who used to know her? “You’re not avoiding him,” I pointed out.

“He’s different.”

“How?”

She sighed again, not in annoyance, but just…tiredness? “I can’t explain it.”

I left it at that. Elise was closed off about some subjects, but I’d learned that she was nearly always honest. If she said she couldn’t explain it, then I knew she’d reached the end of what she was willing to say, and I had to accept that. “Well, then maybe he’ll be in Murrwood.”

I could practically hear her frowning. “Maybe.”

“And if you do find him, I hope he’s as friendly as you remember him.” Friendly and nothing more.

I hated the jealousy that burned in my gut. It wasn’t right. For the thousandth time, I wished that I could tell her of my feelings just like any other bloke would, but I knew I couldn’t. She wasn’t just some girl. She’d become a part of our family, and that had been a hard-won battle. If I burdened her with the knowledge of just how much I cared for her, I was terrified that it would scare her away—not just from me, but from the safety and security that she’d found with us. So until she gave me some indication that she returned my feelings, I would keep being the friend she deserved.

I knew Elise, and yes, I loved her, but that didn’t mean I had the right to keep her from anyone else. She was fiercely independent in that way, determined to choose who she would associate with and when. So if she wanted to find this friend, I had no doubt she would.

But I still hated the idea.

10

Elise

I had mixed feelings about the Murrwood festival. On the one hand, I was confident that I wouldn’t run into my brothers. On the other hand, this was also the place with the greatest crossover of travelers from the north and south, so the likelihood of running into someone I used to know—and who still knew my brothers—was higher than the rest of the northern festival circuit.

Of course, that also meant I might find Robert here. The thought made me nervous and excited. I’d tried over the past several days to come up with every reasonable explanation I could that he would have walked away. Perhaps he was due to be somewhere else. Perhaps he thought I was too busy to visit with an old friend. I’d come up with enough explanations that I felt fairly certain if I encountered him again, we could greet each other as friends.

So after I’d prepared and eaten our morning meal with Marshall and Hatcher behind the tent and scrubbed the dishes alongside Hatcher at the stream nearby, I took meticulous care in readying for the day. I selected the costume that I felt most flattered my figure and set my veiled hat atop my head, tilting it enough to offer a modicum of anonymity, but not so much that it truly obscured my face.

When I was ready, I helped Hatcher and Marshall pull the flaps of the tent up on two sides, securing them, and then brought out a few items for display to lure in potential customers.

Then I put on the feathered shawl that Hatcher had made for this particular ensemble before picking up my wooden perch and bidding the Hatchers goodbye.

It was tempting to wander about in an attempt to find Robert, but I tamped down that desire. I felt my debt to the Hatchers too keenly to neglect my own opportunities to earn money. I did well for myself, all things considered. In fact, my success often surprised me, and the coins I brought in sometimes rivaled the sum I used to earn for my brothers. So I would regularly use a portion of it to buy a measure of nuts or some dried fruits to contribute to the Hatchers’ food stores. They’d given up telling me it was unnecessary since I vehemently disagreed. It was necessary. If they were going to act as my friends and protectors, feeding me and providing me with a home, I was going to do all I could to support myself and them. The excess money I made was added to my growing stash. I’d never let go of the idea that I would buy my own cart and pony someday, maybe even a wagon. I was keenly aware that at any point, the Hatchers’ situation might change and I would be asked to move on.

So, though I fully intended to work all day and not waste time looking for Robert, I did end up seeking out a spot on the opposite end of the festival grounds so that I could at least walk through some of the stalls, keeping an eye out for him. I didn’t see any sign of Robert’s family, but I did recognize the mark of a fortune teller I used to travel with on occasion, and when I saw movement inside her stall, I turned away, pulling the brim of my hat a little lower.

I chose a spot by the brewer’s stall and set down my perch, climbing atop it to give me the extra height that would allow people who heard my voice to actually see where I was and come find me. Then I straightened my spine and shook my shoulders, effectively “fluffing my feathers” before starting in on a song.

The patrons sitting at the spindly wooden tables outside the brewer’s tent turned to listen, and I collected a few passersby as an audience.

When I launched into the last verse of my song, I had my hands on my hips, my head and shoulders tilted in a dramatic and playful manner, playing the flirty Starling instead of the Starling who was in trouble. It was then that I spotted Robert. He wasn’t watching me this time. Instead he was walking backward through the crowd, facing a couple with their young children as he did a card trick.