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Mrs. Bramble took the dress Lady Hackle had left and hung it on the outside of the wardrobe. “You realize what she’s up to, don’t you? There is a gentleman here she wants you to meet. It’s all the talk downstairs. This entire party was planned so she could match the two of you, and I have to say, my lady, I don’t approve.” Mrs. Bramble took these liberties in the way she spoke to Lady Tremaine because she had worked for the family since Lady Tremaine was a little girl. But Lady Tremaine wondered how Mrs. Bramble would react to her new plan to run a tighter ship. She knew Avery would be on board—he was a by-the-numbers sort of man—but how would Mrs. Bramble handle it?
Lady Tremaine realized Mrs. Bramble had continued talking while she drifted off into her own thoughts. She was still going on about this mysterious man Lady Hackle wanted her to meet.
“No one has heard of him. He’s not from these parts. They say he’s royalty from some distant land who is looking for a new wife.”
Lady Tremaine was intrigued but didn’t let Mrs. Bramble know. “And what happened to his old wife, then?” she asked, trying to make light of the serious atmosphere in the room.
“Well, she died, of course.” Mrs. Bramble scoffed. “There are wild stories about the land where he’s from. They call it the Many Kingdoms. Oh, you should hear the tales, my lady! Mothers there often die mysteriously and well before their time, and these widowers always replace them with new wives who themselves meet a terrible fate.” Mrs. Bramble’s eyes were wide and her lips pursed. Lady Tremaine couldn’t tell if Mrs. Bramble was angry or worried. Her eyes were full of concern, but her lips looked as if she was on the warpath. Perhaps she was both. “I won’t have my lady bundled off to distant lands where stepmothers are reviled!”
Lady Tremaine knew what this was about. She had been her nanny, and then her mother’s lady’s maid, so she looked at Lady Tremaine almost like a daughter.
“Well, I don’t intend to be bundled off anywhere, Mrs. Bramble, and as for these stories you’ve heard, must I remind you how foolish and bored some of these servants in the country can be? What else is there to do but weave hysterical tales about places they’ve never visited for themselves?”
Mrs. Bramble laughed. “I dare say they have their jobs to do,” she said, but Lady Tremaine wondered. She imagined a bit of gossip downstairs was just the sort of thing the servants looked forward to.
“Well, I won’t hear any more of this nonsense!” she said. She was becoming impatient and wanted to drop the subject, but Mrs. Bramble seemed to be bursting with more to say. “Oh, out with it then! I dare say you might explode if you don’t share what’s on your mind, Mrs. Bramble.” She let a laugh escape, because it was all starting to sound ridiculous.
“This isn’t a funny matter, my lady. You should hear the stories they tell downstairs: stepmothers being chased off cliffs and their souls being trapped in mirrors. One child’s guardian was thrown from a tower, and another was slaughtered by the man who married her daughter! The Many Kingdoms is not a safe place.”
Lady Tremaine wondered if the servants weren’t just winding up poor Mrs. Bramble. “Those sound like fairy stories to me, Mrs. Bramble. And when by the way did you have time to hear all these stories? You came directly here to unpack my things.”
Mrs. Bramble took a book from her large carpetbag. “They aren’t fairy stories, my lady. They are witch stories. True stories all recorded by foul witches who meddle in the lives of unsuspecting women.” Mrs. Bramble looked desperate, and it became clear to Lady Tremaine something might be amiss with her lady’s maid. She was, after all, quite old and would sometimes go on about odd things, but Lady Tremaine had never seen her get this worked up before.
“I see, Mrs. Bramble,” she said, feeling a bit sad because she feared it might be time for Mrs. Bramble to retire. Of course, if it was best to replace Mrs. Bramble, Lady Tremaine would arrange a lovely cottage for her where she could live out her retirement, but she hadn’t expected to have to make this decision during what was supposed to be her holiday away from household concerns.
“Here, my lady, take this and read it.” Mrs. Bramble held up the book. “All the signs are there. You are just the sort of woman to fall into one of these stories. Beautiful, rich, sweet, and kind, tragically lost her husband too soon. But something will change; you will change. I don’t know if it’s the Many Kingdoms or the witches, but something causes the stepmothers in these stories to transform into horrible people. And it’s not just the stepmothers; it’s anyone these witches choose to meddle with.”
Lady Tremaine sighed. “And what makes you think these witches will choose to meddle with me, my dear Mrs. Bramble? What do they know of me, living all the way in London so far away from these Many Kingdoms? What could these witches possible want with Lady Tremaine?”
Mrs. Bramble cackled, almost like she herself was a witch. “How am I to know the hearts and minds of witches? They’re foul creatures, witches are, and I won’t let my lady be dragged into their story!”
Lady Tremaine could see that Mrs. Bramble was becoming even more agitated and was about to say something more, but she was tired of having this conversation and decided it was best if the old woman thought she believed her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bramble. I will read the book, but I must insist you take the remainder of the evening to rest in your room. Do you understand? You’re very worked up, and as much as I appreciate your devotion and care, I can’t have you exhausting yourself.”
Mrs. Bramble tried to protest. “But what of this evening, my lady? Who will help you dress?”
Lady Tremaine sighed. The old woman seemed to have forgotten about Rebecca.
“I suppose Rebecca will help me, just for this one evening, while you take a much-needed break. We might arrange a little holiday for you once we get back to London. Doesn’t that sound nice? Is there anyone you’d like to visit? You haven’t seen your sister in a while.”
Mrs. Bramble was still clutching the book, squeezing it so tightly Lady Tremaine thought she might actually break her brittle fingers. “Here, let me take that from you, Mrs. Bramble. I promise to read it. Think about where you’d like to have your holiday, and I’ll make all the arrangements.” Lady Tremaine pulled the cord hanging near the fireplace mantel to summon a maid, who showed up within moments. Lady Tremaine loved how efficiently Lady Hackle ran her household.
“Hello, dear,” Lady Tremaine said. “Could you please take Mrs. Bramble to her room and have someone bring her tea and later her dinner on a tray? She isn’t feeling well.”
“I don’t want to be any trouble or make more work for the cook or other servants.” Mrs. Bramble was fussing. “They have enough to do with the party this evening.”
“Nonsense,” said Lady Tremaine. “They won’t mind, will they, dear?”
The maid smiled. “We won’t mind at all,” she said gently, being kind to the old woman. “Come now, Mrs. Bramble, let me show you to your room.”
Seeing Mrs. Bramble walk out of the room with the young maid made her look even older in Lady Tremaine’s eyes. She hadn’t realized how very old her lady’s maid had become, and she suddenly felt rather foolish for not having seen it before.
“You rest, Mrs. Bramble. And I’ll be very disappointed if I hear you haven’t.”
Mrs. Bramble gave her lady a weak smile. “Yes, my lady. Don’t you worry about old Mrs. Bramble. I’ll be right as rain again tomorrow. Just remember what I said.”
Lady Tremaine smiled at the old woman. “I’ll remember. Now go, and don’t leave that bed until you are fully restored,” she said as the women walked out of the room.
