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“Never mind that now, Cruella. I understand. I was just so happy when Anita wrote me to say you’d like to see me again.” And I had. I had desperately wanted to see her again, but I’d feared she would reject me. I had told Anita about it in our many letters. Told her how I had felt after Christmas, how I felt I had made a terrible mistake. How I wished I could have changed everything after that horrible row with my mother on Christmas Eve. I told her how miserable I was, trapped at home with Mother without Anita or Miss Pricket to be my allies. And now Mother was gone, and I had my Anita and Miss Pricket back again. Life was good. It was as it should be.
It was a wonderful evening of merrymaking, the most fun I’d had in months. This time I didn’t care if my mother came home or not. I neither wished for her to be there to help celebrate nor dreaded her return ruining our pretty time. Not that she would sully herself downstairs with the likes of Anita or the staff. Mother had completely slipped my mind. . . .
Until the bell rang—just like it had on Christmas Eve.
But this time, my heart didn’t sink. I was eighteen. Mother no longer controlled me. And she had never controlled my money. According to the missive I’d received from our solicitors, my allowance was to be raised; I was to have an income of my own, and more control over the finances in general. The capital and house would still be held in trust until I was of age. Whatever she said to me when I opened that door, however she scolded me, it couldn’t hurt me now.
But that bell would change my life more than I could ever have imagined. At the door was a gift. From my father. Arranged by him with his solicitor before his passing.
A gift for my eighteenth birthday.
I met Sir Huntley in the vestibule. He seemed surprised to find me coming from downstairs, but said nothing on the matter. He just smiled, his round little eyes turning into half-moons. Beside him, on the round table in the center of the entryway, was a wicker basket. Something was wiggling under the red blanket within.
“Miss Cruella, your father asked that I give you this along with the other provisions that were detailed in the missive I sent you last week. I trust you understood everything?”
“Yes, Sir Huntley, but what is this?” I asked, looking at the basket.
“This, my dear, is Perdita. A gift from your father.” He smiled and took a puppy from the basket. She was the most adorable thing I had ever laid eyes on.
“Perdita!” I swooned. A puppy. A black-and-white puppy. A Dalmatian puppy. She was beautiful. She had a vivid red bow tied around her neck with a tag that had her name printed upon it. Perdita. “But how? Why?”
“Your father made arrangements in his will that you were to be gifted Perdita on your eighteenth birthday. He was very specific on the breed and name.”
“Isn’t Perdita a character in A Winter’s Tale?” I asked, wondering if Papa simply chose the name because he knew I was fond of such stories, or if there was a deeper meaning.
“He said you would recognize the name. He also gave me a note to go along with his gift. He said you would understand.”
Distinguish yourself.
And I did understand. I understood it completely.
It was the same message Mother had included with every gift she had ever given to me. But it all started with the fur coat, the one that nearly overshadowed the mysterious jade earrings Papa had given me. He must have seen her note that night in my room. Distinguish yourself. Her meaning was quite different than his, of course. She wanted me to be more like her. To distinguish myself from everyone else. But Papa had always wanted me to be my own woman. He wanted me to distinguish myself from my mother.
I felt like this was a sign that I was doing the right thing by distancing myself from my mother. I felt like he would approve of the choices I had made since he’d died.
“Your father always wanted to give you a puppy, Cruella. He was only sorry he had to wait until he was gone to do it,” said Sir Huntley. “He said it was something you always asked for, but Lady De Vil resolutely forbade.” That was true. I’d cried myself to sleep many nights when I was a girl, wishing I could have a puppy. A Dalmatian puppy, to be exact. And my papa remembered.
I loved my father more than ever in that moment. And I loved Perdita. I had Anita and Miss Pricket home with me again, and for the fi
rst time I didn’t need my mother. I felt like all was right in my world.
And I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Anita and I had a swanky evening planned for the night after my little birthday party with the servants. I almost couldn’t stand the thought of leaving poor Perdita downstairs with the staff so Anita and I could go out to dinner. I knew she would be safe with Mrs. Baddeley and the others fussing over her, but I couldn’t help worrying. Anita and Miss Pricket talked me into going out nevertheless.
“Oh, Cruella! Perdita will be treated like a little queen down in the kitchen. Mrs. Baddeley has been saving scraps of meat for her all day,” said Miss Pricket.
“Please, it’s your eighteenth birthday, Cruella. We have to celebrate!” said Anita. Both of them implored me with their sweet smiles and puppy dog eyes.
“Well, if you’re both going to gang up on me like this, I might regret my decision to have you stay with us for a while, Miss Pricket,” I said, laughing. She knew I was joking. Miss Pricket and I had fallen into a new stride with each other since she had come back. All was well with us, as if nothing at all had happened. I tried talking with her about it, when I asked if she’d like to stay until her next engagement, which started in a few weeks. I felt I needed to tell her how sorry I was, but she wouldn’t hear it. All she would say was that she understood and that Anita had explained everything. I really felt quite lucky to have Anita and Miss Pricket back again. I had almost written her so many times, but I poured all of my regrets and misgivings into my letters to Anita. She was the only person I could confide in, and I was so happy I had, because she took it upon herself to let Miss Pricket know how deeply sorry I really was.
As we were trying to decide what to wear for our night out, I remembered I had a gift for Anita. “Miss Pricket, will you get me that big white box at the bottom of my closet?” The box had a big red ribbon with a tag that Miss Pricket read aloud.
“‘Anita’!” she said as she brought the box over to her. Anita flushed.
“Oh, Cruella. What’s this? It’s your birthday, not mine.”
I giggled like we were small girls again.
