by Christine Norris
Release Date: May 21st 2015
Curiosity Quills Press
Summary from Goodreads
Benjamin Grimm knows the theater is much like real life. In 1876 Philadelphia, people play their parts, hiding behind the illusion of their lives, and never revealing their secrets.
When he reunites with his childhood friend Eleanor Banneker, he is delighted. His delight turns to dismay when he discovers she has been under a spell for the past 7 years, being forced to live as a servant in her own home, and he realizes how sinister some secrets can be. She asks for his help, and he can’t refuse. Even if he doesn’t believe in ‘real’ magic, he can’t abandon her.
Ellie has spent the long years since her mother’s death under the watchful eye and unforgiving eye of her stepmother. Bewitched and hidden in plain sight, it seems no one can help Ellie escape. Not even her own father, who is under a spell of his own. When she sees Ben one evening, it seems he is immune to the magic that binds her, and her hope is rekindled along with her friendship.
But time is running short. If they do not find a way to break the spell before midnight on New Year’s Eve, then both Ellie and her father will be bound forever.
Excerpt
Ellie
looked around, thinking that perhaps the letter-writer had stayed close by in
order to be sure their missive was delivered. She saw
no one. She clutched the letter to her chest, a little thrill going through
her. A secret letter! She wanted to tear it open and read it
immediately but hesitated. Whoever wrote the letter wanted only her to read it,
or else they would have sent it with the regular post. With the envelope tucked
into her apron, she grabbed the two bottles of milk and went back inside.
“Rebecca?
Is that you, dear?” Olivia’s dulcet tones, much like the squawking of an
irritated goose, resonated through the house. Ellie started, clanging the glass
milk bottles together. Neither broke, fortunately. The goose herself appeared
in the kitchen doorway, and her eyes narrowed when she saw Ellie.
“How
did you get out of the cellar?”
Ellie,
who had no answer but the truth, shrugged. “The door was open, Stepmother.” It
made her stomach turn to kowtow to Olivia, but she wanted to keep the peace
this morning.
Olivia
tucked her chin toward her chest, her mouth falling open. She patted the
pockets of her robe, muttering to herself. “I… could have sworn… I have the key
right here.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a heavy brass key. She
glanced at Ellie, then stuffed the key back into her pocket and straightened
her robe. She grasped at the locket around her neck, and then smoothed back a
strand of gray-streaked hair that had come loose from her nighttime braid. “I
trust you have learned your lesson? About how to speak to your betters?”
Ellie
bit back her first reply, which had something to do with the day Olivia became
her better coinciding with the end of time. “Yes, Stepmother.” Olivia gave a
curt nod. “Fine, then get breakfast and be quick about it. It will not do for
Rebecca and me to be late for church.” She left, the kitchen door swinging in
her wake.
Ellie’s
shoulders slumped in relief. The note would have to wait until after the women
left. She pulled it from her apron and tucked it into the back of the dish
cupboard for safekeeping. But the mysterious letter continued to absorb her
thoughts throughout breakfast.
“What
are you doing, you stupid girl?” Olivia screeched. Ellie, looked down. The salt
cellar was in her hand, the small spoon filled with salt. Both were positioned
above her stepmother’s teacup. She quickly moved her hand over the poached eggs
and tapped the spoon with one finger.
“I’m
salting your eggs, Stepmother.” It was a good thing they hadn’t wanted
breakfast in bed this morning, or else I might have spent the day scrubbing
poached eggs out of the upstairs carpet.
Rebecca’s
voice cut through her woolgathering. “Mother, I see the invitation to the
Assembly Ball arrived in yesterday’s post.”
“Yes,
that’s right, my dear,” Olivia said sweetly, with a sidelong glance at Ellie
that was meant to sting. “It will be here before you know it.” She sipped her
tea, and Ellie wished shehad dumped salt into it. “This year it will be a
masked ball. Which I think to be a little juvenile, but I suppose the Dancing
Assembly decided it needed to try something new.”
Rebecca
dipped the corner of her toast in her teacup, looking thoughtful. “Yes, it
sounds wonderful.” Ellie thought her words sounded forced. “But I thought,
Mother, that since it is such a special occasion, and so important for a girl,
that maybe… perhaps… Eleanor might accompany us?”
Ellie,
who had been trying not to listen to the conversation, nearly dropped the
teapot. She kept her gaze fixed on the table, not daring to glance at either of
the other women. The silence hung heavy as lead. What if her stepmother, by
some miracle, said yes? Visions of shopping for a dress, and slippers, and fans
fluttered through her mind like a flock of doves.
Olivia
smashed Ellie’s delicate hope like an eggshell.
“Why
ever would Eleanor go to the ball, dear?” This was the way of things in her home―her
stepmother speaking about her as if she were not there.
Rebecca’s
forehead creased briefly. “Because she’s family, mother. She is seventeen now
as well. And perhaps she would like to go.”
Olivia
folded her napkin and placed it on the table, then smoothed it with one
long-fingered hand. “I still don’t see why, Rebecca. She isn’t prepared for
such social engagements, and her place is here. No, Eleanor will not go.”
Rebecca
wet her lips, as if trying to think of another way to convince her mother
without causing her to lose her temper. It was like watching a mouse try and
outwit a cat. She opened her mouth, but her mother stopped her with a
sing-song, “I won’t hear another word about it.” She picked up her spoon and
scooped up some porridge. “I don’t want to spoil our breakfast, darling. I have
a delicate constitution.”
Now,
Ellie wanted to hit her stepmother with the teapot.
“Yes,
Mother.” Rebecca’s gaze dropped to her own bowl but not before she gave Ellie a
deeply apologetic look. Ellie tried to convey how grateful she was for the
attempt, however unsuccessful. Olivia, without so much as a glance at Ellie,
pushed the remaining corner of her toast off of her plate and onto the floor,
which of course landed with the buttered side down. Ellie, gritting her teeth
so tightly she thought she heard a crack, cleaned up the mess and returned to
the kitchen. She threw the bread out the back door for the birds and her
dishtowel at the wall. It hit with a smack, and Ellie wished it was Olivia’s
face. She had never been able to puzzle out what she had done to make her
stepmother dislike her so vehemently. Her stepmother’s rejection shouldn’t have
hurt as much as it did, but it seemed it was a wound that would not heal. She
wiped her eyes with the edge of her apron.
It
was silly to cry over a ball. Even if she were to go, she still had to break
the spell, and that night was her deadline, so she couldn’t spend her time
shopping for frilly dresses or ridiculous, and probably painful, dancing
slippers.
An hour
and a half later, both women climbed into the carriage and clopped off to
church. Finally, she was able to take a bowl of porridge and a cup of tea to
her poor father. He was sitting exactly as she had left him, and he allowed her
to spoon-feed him, like a baby.
“Thank
you, dear. You are always so good to me.” Ellie wiped some porridge from his
chin. “It’s because I love you.”
He
patted Ellie’s knee. “Of course. And you know I love you as well,
Olivia.”
Ellie’s
sigh was heart-weary. “Yes, I know.”
Olivia
had taken her father from her. Even though they were in the same room, it was
as if hundreds of miles were between them. She gave him his medicine and left
him to rest, then raced to the kitchen to retrieve her letter. Even though the
house was essentially empty, she headed straight for the attic. Wrapping
herself in the threadbare quilt, she sat on the sofa, her hands shaking with
more than cold. When was the last time she had opened a letter of her own? When
she was young, there had been the occasional Christmas card from her
grandparents, who were gone and buried, or a note from her parents on her
birthday, but nothing since.
She
lifted the envelope’s flap, pulling up the plain wax seal with it. Inside was a
sheet of thin, crisp stationary. Ellie unfolded it, the paper shaking in her
fingers. There was no monogram across the top, but the writing inside was the
same as that on the envelope. Eleanor, The answers you seek are inside
your stepmother’s secretary. A Friend
That
was all. Ellie flipped the page over, but it was blank. She reread the message.
Which answers? Every question she had at the moment was about this
letter. Who was “A Friend,” and how would they know what kinds of things she
might find in her stepmother’s desk? Searching it was a dangerous idea. A night
in the cellar would seem like afternoon tea if she was caught.
About the Author
Christine Norris is the author of several works for children and adults, including the Library of Athena series and the Zandria duology. When she’s not out saving the world one story at a time, she is disguised as a mild mannered substitute teacher, mother, and wife. She cares for her family of one husband-creature, a son-animal, and two felines who function as Guardian of the Bathtub and Official Lap Warmer, respectively. She has also done several English adaptations of novels translated from other languages. She reached a new level of insanity by attending Southen Connecticut State University Graduate School’s Information and Library Science program, so that someday she, too, can be a real Librarian. She currently resides somewhere in southern New Jersey.
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