The Fairy Godmother Read online

  The Fairy Godmother

  LYNSAY SANDS

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  About the Author

  Also by Lynsay Sands

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter One

  Roswald Keep, England--1324

  The lid of the sarcophagus settled into place with a deep, low grinding of stone. There was silence for a moment, then everyone began to drift out, back to their daily chores and lives, leaving Odel alone. She was aware of their leave-taking and thought how funny it was that others still had chores to do. Unlike herself, life continued for them much as it had before the death of their lord and master, her father.

  The priest patted her shoulder and Odel smiled at him stiffly, then watched him follow the others out of the building. He was leaving her alone to deal with her grief. Most considerate, she thought, almost ashamed that she was not feeling any. All she seemed filled with was an empty confusion, a sort of loss as to what to do next.

  It seemed the whole of her life had been centered around the selfish wants and needs of the man who now lay entombed here. Without him to order her about, she really hadn't a clue what to do. At a loss, she stayed where she was, staring dry-eyed at the stone likeness laid out before her, waiting.

  She was still standing there several moments later when the door opened again. An icy winter wind blew in, ruffling the black veil that shrouded Odel's still dry eyes. Positive it was the priest returned, she did not look about. But when a woman's voice rang out behind her, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  "Well, here I am. Late again as usual. But then, better late than not here at all, I always say," the high, clear voice chimed, sounding almost bell-like in the small stone building.

  Lifting the black veil that covered her face, Odel tossed it back over her head and whirled toward the door. A round, little gray-haired lady dressed in the most horrid pink confection Odel had ever seen was trundling toward her. She was positive she had never met her before, but the woman's words seemed to suggest otherwise. The way she now charged up and enveloped Odel in a pink silk and perfumed hug also seemed to indicate they were not strangers. Eyes wide, Odel stood stiff in her embrace and wracked her brain for who she might be.

  "Toot-a-loo, dear. I am sorry you have had to see to all of this on your own. I came as soon as I could. Howbeit, that never seems quite soon enough." Releasing her, the woman stepped back to glance down at the stern, stone effigy atop the tomb of Odel's father, then sniffed with distaste. "Rather grim, is it not? But then he was a perfectly grim man. I never met a more cantankerous lout."

  When Odel gaped at such irreverent words, the woman arched her eyebrows slightly. "Surely you do not disagree?"

  "I . . . He was my father . . . And he is dead" was all she could come up with in answer. Lord Roswald certainly had been a cantankerous lout. But Odel would bite her own tongue off ere being disrespectful enough to say so about her own father.

  "Hmm." The woman's mouth twisted at one corner. "I take it you believe that old adage about not speaking ill of the dead? Well, my dear, that is very good of you. I myself am of the firm belief that a man earns his praises or recriminations in life--and death--by his actions. And deserves every lick he earns. Your father, rest his soul, earned all the recrimination a body can spew. Why, what he did to your mother alone was enough to keep me recriminating for a century, never mind what he did to you!"

  Odel's eyes widened and brightened suddenly. "You knew my mother?"

  "Knew her?" The odd little woman's smile softened. "My dear, we were best friends. As close as can be. Until your grandfather forced her to marry your father. What a tragedy that was." She moved to the second sarcophagus in the room as she spoke and peered sadly down at the likeness of the beautiful woman it held.

  "She was lovely. Even this cold stone cannot hide that," she murmured, then glanced at Odel. "They were not suited at all, of course. Your mother was young, beautiful, and lighthearted while your father was old and bitter. He had already had and lost one family--and he was determined to subdue and hold on to Lillith and whatever children she gave him in any way he could."

  The woman's gaze moved back to the stone effigy and a sigh slid from her lips. She caressed the cold marble cheek sadly. "He choked all the joy and youth out of her ere the first year of their marriage was ended. Her death when you were five was a mere formality. All the life had left her long ere that."

  Odel dropped her gaze to the likeness of her mother, touched by the first real sense of grief she had felt that day. That sadness was quickly washed away by the woman's next words.

  "You look much like her. Your mother, I mean. That should make things easier."

  "Make what things easier?" Odel asked in confusion, but the woman didn't answer. A frown had suddenly drawn her lips down as she considered the pallor of Odel's skin and the thinness of the body obvious beneath the sack-like black gown she wore. Odel knew that while her features were the same as her lovely mother's, they were presently pinched with stress, and that there were dark smudges beneath her eyes that nearly matched the unrelenting black of the veil that shrouded her hair.

  The woman moved so swiftly that Odel couldn't stop her start of surprise as the veil was suddenly snatched from her head. The action tugged loose several of the pins that had held her hair in place, sending them to the floor with a soft tinkle. Her hair slid eagerly down around her shoulders in waves of dull color.

  Seeing the lifeless hair that should have shone fiery red-brown, the woman pursed her lips, concerned. "He did not choke the life from you as well, did he?"

  Odel's eyes dilated at the rude question, then she blurted, "Who are you?"

  The old lady blinked. "Who? Me? Oh, dear, did I not introduce myself? How silly of me. My goodness, no wonder you look at me as if I were mad, dear. You haven't a clue who I am. Why, I'm Tildy, child."

  "Tildy?" Odel frowned over the name. Her memory nagged at her faintly.

  "Your godmother."

  Odel's eyes widened at that. "My godmother?"

  "Aye. Aunt Matilda. But you may call me Tildy, dear. Matilda puts one in mind of large, horsy women with prominent teeth."

  "Tildy," Odel murmured, obedience coming automatically to her, then she frowned as she stared incredulously at the little woman. Matilda had been her mother's cousin--a poor orphaned cousin who had been taken in and raised by Lillith's parents. The two girls had been as close as sisters. Closer. Best friends.

  But Lord Roswald had not suffered his wife to have friends. It had been his opinion that all of Lillith's attention and affection should be shared only among himself and their children. He had forced her to end all contact with Matilda--or Tildy as she preferred--shortly after their marriage. Still, that hadn't stopped her mother from naming the woman Odel's godmother.

  Unfortunately, it hadn't been long after that that Matilda had taken a fall from her horse that had ended in her breaking her neck.

  Eyes widening incredulously, Odel whirled on the woman. "But you are dead!"

  "Am I?" Tildy asked, seeming not the least perturbed. "Where did you ever hear a thing like that?"

  "Well, from . . ." Turning, Odel gestured vaguely toward the stone image of her father, then glanced back sharply when the little woman clucked beside her.

  "Aye. Well, we all have our faults, don't we?"

  Odel stared at Tildy uncertainly as she tried to discern exactly to which fault the woman was referring. Was Tildy implying her father had lied? That seemed the obvious answer, since her aunt now stood bef
ore her, not looking the least bit dead.

  "You're named after me. Did you know that?" Tildy asked cheerfully.

  Odel blinked, distracted from her thoughts. "I am? But your name is--"

  "Matilda Odel," Tildy told her promptly. Her expression softened affectionately as she reached out to brush a stray strand of hair off Odel's cheek. "And I was so looking forward to being your aunt. But of course, then there was that riding accident, and--" She shrugged.

  "The accident?" Odel asked with a frown.

  "The one that ended my earthly life," Matilda said impatiently.

  "You mean the accident did kill you?" Odel squeaked.

  "Aye. In my prime, too," Matilda murmured tragically, then sighed and straightened her shoulders. "Alas, such is life. Anyway, I have been watching out for you all these years as a godmother should, but I couldn't interfere before. Vlaster said it wasn't--"

  "Who is Vlaster?" Odel interrupted absently, her gaze shifting to the door. It wasn't that far away. If she could just distract this madwoman for a moment. . .

  "Oh, he's my supervisor." Odel glanced back to see the woman peer at the floor as if in search of something. "He is around here somewhere. He probably headed straight for the keep. He dislikes the cold, you see."

  "I do see," Odel said carefully, easing a step to the side and a little closer to the door.

  "Aye." Matilda made a face. "He was none too pleased to be coming down here at this time of year, but your case has reached a rather crisis point."

  "Yes," Odel agreed, taking another sidling step.

  "I was able to convince him, thank goodness."

  "Of what?" Odel took another step.

  "Why, that your father's treatment of you had made you afraid of love. That without some serious intervention, he will have succeeded in his efforts to make you as bitter and lonely as he himself was." The woman explained herself patiently, then beamed at her. "But 'twill be all right now. I am here, specially sent to see you happy."

  Odel paused and stared at the woman in shock. "Are you implying, my lady, that you are some sort of guardian angel?"

  "Well." She made a face. "I am not quite an angel yet. Angels don't need canes and fairy dust."

  "Canes and fairy dust?" Odel's eyes widened further.

  "Aye. I am just a godmother, a fairy godmother. I need a little help performing my miracles," she admitted unhappily, then brightened. "Though if I succeed at helping fifty of my wards, I shall be graduated to angel."

  "And what number am I?" Odel asked, curious despite thinking the woman quite mad.

  Matilda winced, her answer coming reluctantly. "You are my first. I have been in training up until now, you see."

  "Well, that figures," Odel muttered to herself.

  "Never fear, though. I graduated at the top . . . Well, close to the top of my . . . I didn't fail," Tildy ended finally. She sighed and took Odel's arm, urging her toward the door Odel had been so eager to escape through just moments before. "Never mind that. All will be well. But there is much to do."

  "Much to do with what?" Odel asked warily as her "guardian" dragged open the doors. Sunlight and a crisp winter breeze immediately washed over them.

  "With you, dear. I am here to find you a husband."

  "Find me a husband?" Odel paused and stiffened at the claim. That was the last thing she had expected--and the very last thing she wanted. "I have no need of a husband."

  "Of course you do, dear. Oh, my goodness, yes. One cannot procreate alone, you know. A man is needed for that chore."

  Odel flushed, then paled in turn. "But I do not wish to procreate."

  "Of course you do. 'Tis your duty. As the bible says, 'go forth and multiply' and all that. Yes, yes it does and so you shall."

  "But I am not even betrothed, I--"

  "Aye, I know. Most remiss of your father. Terribly selfish, too, keeping you chained to him so. He wanted to keep you all to himself no doubt, but we shall fix that. We will have you betrothed and married off in no time."

  "But--"

  "Now, I'll have no arguing from you. I know your father insisted on your staying at his side until he died, but he's gone. And it is my job to look out for you now. I do so want to attain angel status--they have wings, you know--and after you I will only have forty-nine to go." Tildy's gaze settled on her determinedly. "But I do have something of a time limit. I have till Christmas to see you happy and married."

  Odel stiffened. "Which is it?"

  Tildy blinked. "Which is what?"

  "Which are you supposed to make me? Happy or married?" she snarled, then turned to march across the bailey. Her heart was pounding something fierce, just as it had over the years when her father had raised his voice and his hand to her. Only this time was different. She wasn't feeling fear. Instead, she was furious.

  She had spent the last twenty-five years under her father's power being ordered about. Every wish, every desire she had ever had had been belittled or thwarted by him. She had no intention of putting herself back under another man's thumb.

  "But, my dear!" Matilda rushed after her, obviously alarmed. "Every girl wants to be married. Every girl wants a husband, children and a home."

  "I am not every girl," Odel snapped, then suddenly remembered that this woman was quite mad. There was nothing to fear here; she didn't need to fear losing her freedom. Not truly. The thought made her pause.

  She was free. A small laugh slipped from her lips, then she picked up her pace again and began to hurry up the steps to the keep. She was free! Why, she could go inside right now and . . . and sit by the fire if she wished. Her father would not be there yelling at her to fetch him this or do that. She could, well, she could do whatever she wanted. For the most part.

  "Oh, my!"

  At Matilda's exclamation, Odel paused just inside the door of the keep. She did not have to think hard to figure out what had brought that gasp from her lips. Roswald castle had done it. She felt all of her excitement of a moment ago slip away as she peered at the great hall. Her father's presence was everywhere. It pervaded the keep as if he were not truly dead at all. Odel peered about and sighed. "It is rather grim and gloomy, is it not?"

  "Aye." Matilda nodded solemnly.

  "Father never liked the sun much," Odel muttered unhappily as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. "He always insisted the arrow slits be covered with leather, no matter the season, and--"

  "There is only one chair in here," Matilda pointed out as if Odel had not noticed.

  "Aye," Odel agreed unhappily. In the whole huge great hall, the only stick of furniture was her father's large chair by the fire. He had always insisted the tables and benches used at mealtimes be collapsed and leaned against the walls lest some "lazy loafer waste time sitting about."

  "And there are not even any rushes on the floor," Matilda added with amazement.

  "Father said that was just a lazy servant's invention to keep from having to scrub the floor daily."

  "Scrub the floor? But these stone floors are so cold without rushes that the air is seeping right through my slippers."

  "I know," Odel almost moaned the two words. "I have always wished it were otherwise." She glanced at Matilda. "If you really wished to make me happy, you could send me a wagon load of rushes, not some useless bossy husband."

  "That, my dear, is a very good idea," Matilda decided grimly. Immediately, she tugged open the small pink sack that hung from her wrist. She slipped her hand inside, pulled it out a moment later, then raised the closed hand in front of her face. After muttering a couple of sentences, she opened her fingers and began to turn in a circle, blowing, as she did, on the glittering dust that rested in her palm.

  Odel was busy gaping at this, her mouth hanging open like a fish, when Matilda's little spin brought them face-to-face. Finding herself in the center of a small cloud of the glittering substance, Odel gasped in surprise, then quickly closed her eyes and mouth, and tried to step back out of the way. She was too late. She had already breathed
in a good deal of the dust, and it sent her into a fit of coughing and sneezing.

  "Oh, dear!" Matilda was at her side and thumping her back at once. "I am sorry, my dear. I had no intention of blowing it in your face. I am sorry."

  "What are you doing?" Odel choked out, straightening slowly as her sneezes and coughs subsided.

  "Aye. Well, I did mention that where angels could perform miracles without it, I need it to--"

  "Oh, my God!"

  "What is it?" Matilda asked, then turned to survey the room at which the girl was now gaping. "Oh." She grimaced uncertainly. "Too much, do you think? Perhaps I should have used a little less fairy dust, hmmm?"

  "Fairy dust?" Odel repeated faintly, her eyes sliding over the room in shock. The floor was now covered with a clean carpet of rushes, and the walls were so white that their brightness almost hurt the eyes. As well, several huge tapestries now adorned them. Odel had never before seen such beautiful, rich weaves and she marveled at them briefly before taking in the rest of the room.

  The lone chair that had sat by the fire was no more, yet the room was full of furnishings. Several large carved chairs sat grouped around the fire, huge soft cushions on each, making them look remarkably comfortable. The trestle tables and benches that had been collapsed and leaning against the wall were now set up, long white cloths covering the tables' rough surfaces. Two dainty pillows on the center of the bench of the uppermost table denoted where she and Matilda should sit.

  "My God," Odel breathed, then whirled on Tildy accusingly. "You do have magic!"

  Matilda sighed. "Aye, dear. Did I not say so? I told you I have fairy dust to help--Oh! There you are, Vlaster." Bending, she picked up a cat that slid through the open door behind them.

  "Vlaster?" Odel echoed, then her eyebrows rose as she recalled Tildy's earlier mention of the name. "Your superior is a cat?"

  "At the moment, yes."

  "At the moment?" Odel repeated. She started to turn away in dismissal, only to pause as her gaze took in the room again. Moaning, she closed her eyes and swayed slightly. "This cannot be happening."

  "Are you feeling faint?" Tildy asked with alarm, letting the cat drop to the floor to put a supporting arm around her. "Just breathe deeply. Breathe."

  Odel obediently took a couple of deep breaths, relieved when some of the tightness in her chest eased. The buzzing that had been filling her ears began to fade.