Lady Hackle sighed. “Well, that is too bad about the girls. My boys will be devastated of course, but I suppose it can’t be helped. Come in, my dear friend. I’m sure Pratt has already shown Mrs. Bramble to your rooms, and I imagine you are eager to refresh yourself after your long journey.”

They walked into the great, imposing vestibule. It was done in the Roman style, a large, open room with marble pillars and magnificent statues of gods and goddesses scattered throughout. In the center of the room was an enormous staircase that split into two, leading to different wings of the house. A sweet-looking maid met them at the foot of the stairs.

“Dilly, please show Lady Tremaine to her room, though I dare say she already knows the way,” said Lady Hackle with a warm smile. And then she added, “Oh yes, and, just a reminder, the dressing gong will be at six, dinner gong at eight. See you then.” She left Lady Tremaine in Dilly’s capable hands.

Lady Tremaine loved being on a schedule again. She and her husband had done everything on a schedule when he was alive. But she couldn’t remember the last time Avery rang the dinner gong, let alone the dressing gong. She and the girls never dressed for dinner, not since Lord Tremaine died. She hadn’t seen the reason for it. But now she understood why her husband had liked everything just so. She realized she needed to be more of an example to her girls, and she planned to bring back her old ways of living the moment she returned.

When she got to her room—the Fairy Room, as Lady Hackle called it—she found Mrs. Bramble already unpacking and putting away her things. Lady Tremaine loved this room and typically stayed in it when she visited. She always felt like she was visiting a fairy’s garden, with its purple-and-gold furnishings and delicate floral wallpaper.

“Everything is almost unpacked and put away, my lady.” Mrs. Bramble had what Lady Tremaine thought of as a graveyard voice: quiet, serious, and almost foreboding.

“I see that, Mrs. Bramble. Thank you,” Lady Tremaine said, looking around the room. Mrs. Bramble had thoughtfully laid out her gown for the evening, and somehow managed to find the time to have one of the maids start her a bath.

Both of their eyes darted toward the door when they heard someone knocking. Mrs. Bramble rushed to the door, opening it just a crack. “Oh hello, Lady Hackle, please come in,” she said, opening the door wider.