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“Mama! What’s the matter?” I said, getting up from the bed. She was starting to frighten me. “Tell me what’s wrong, please!”
“It’s your hair, Cruella. It’s turned white!”
My mama has always been rather dramatic and prone to exaggeration. The fact was, only half of my hair had turned white. The other half was still pitch-black, as it had always been. But leave it to Mama to send the household into a panic over something as trivial as my hair color.
Later that afternoon the doctor came by. My mother was fretting, coddling, and hovering so much he tried to send her out of the room.
“I have no intention of leaving the room, Dr. Humphrey. Just look at the state of her! Look at her hair. What in blazes caused that?”
“Lady De Vil has experienced a tremendous and sudden loss. She is suffering from shock and grief,” he said.
“But will her hair go back to normal?” my mother asked. The doctor, however, didn’t seem concerned for my hair.
“What worries me is how thin your daughter has become,” he said, studying me. “I think with a little rest, more sunlight, and a sensible diet she will be blooming again.”
After the doctor left, Mama talked me into taking dinner in the dining room that evening. She instructed the maid to lay out a lovely dress for me to wear to dinner while I was in the bath, but I couldn’t bring myself to wear anything other than my black dress. The one I was wearing when I learned my Jack had died. I found it cleaned and hanging in the closet next to a number of dresses and nightgowns my mama had purchased for me and had sent up to my room. It still looked good on me. Slinky, black, and stunning. It went perfectly with my jade earrings and the new jade ring Jack had given me for my birthday.
As I stood in my old room looking at myself in the mirror, I seemed a new person: thinner, older, somehow wiser and more elegant. I had changed. And I was living in an entirely different world. One without my Jack. It seemed fitting that I, too, was different. I decided I liked my new beauty. I liked the severity of it. I even liked my hair. Only one thing was missing: my fur coat. I put it on. I was myself again. I went downstairs. I was ready.
That was to be my last evening with my mama, though I didn’t know it at the time. The table was set beautifully, and my mother’s cook had outdone herself, preparing all my favorite dishes in an effort to tempt me. I sat across from my mother, picking at my plate. She looked at me nervously, as she had been doing since she’d seen my transformation.
“Cruella, I’ve arranged for all your favorites. Won’t you eat something?” she asked.
“Thank Mrs. Baddeley for me, please,” I said. “And give her my apologies for not having an appetite.” My mother looked at me as if I was losing my mind.
“Mrs. Baddeley has left our household, Cruella. I told you, remember?” The fact was, I had for-gotten.
“How am I to be expected to remember these insignificant, mundane household changes, Mother?” I asked dismissively, but the truth was I wondered how I had managed to forget.
“You’re right, my dear,” she said, still looking at me with concern. I assumed she was still getting used to my hair. Then, “Cruella, why are you wearing the fur coat I gave you for your birthday at the dinner table?”
“You didn’t get me this coat, Mama. Jack did. It was a gift for my birthday,” I said, smiling at her. She looked so confused.
“My darling, I got you that coat for your birthday.” She looked at me with narrowed eyes. It now occurs me that I must have been suffering from some sort of memory loss due to the shock of losing Jack. It’s no wonder my poor mama was so concerned. But then I remembered.
“So you did, Mama. I remember now. You gave me the coat, Jack gave me the ring, and Papa gave me my earrings.”
“Yes, my dear,” she said, looking no less worried.
“I don’t know what I would do without you, Mama. I can’t imagine being on my own right now. I’m so lucky to have such a sweet mama, so willing to take care of me.”
And I was so happy to be in my childhood home, to be surrounded by things that made me feel comforted.
“You really must eat, Cruella. You’ve become so thin,” she said, clearly still worried.
“I don’t wish to eat, Mama. Please don’t worry. I think I may be suffering from a lapse of memory,” I said, trying to make her feel better.
“The doctor said that may happen. Perhaps I better have Mrs. Web call the doctor and tell him.”
“Don’t fret, Mama,” I said. “I assure you I am quite well.”
“Did Violet not lay out that new dress I bought you, Cruella? That dress you’re wearing is hanging off you.”
“Violet? Oh yes, the maid. Yes, she did, Mama, but I wanted to wear this one,” I said, giving her a sly look.
“Well, it’s morbid, wearing the same dress …” But she stopped herself. She was clearly getting rather vexed with me, but tempering her anger because she was worried about my health.
“I’m sorry, Mama.” I pushed my plate away, deciding I was tired of pretending I was going to eat dinner. “I really don’t wish to eat dinner, Mama.”
