Fairy Godmother

She had never fallen asleep in her own dream before — nevertheless, although she had no real idea of what would happen, she was not going to fall asleep now. She was going to enjoy every moment of this until she was forced out of the experience by waking up. So she fought the impulse, then the need to put down the book, to close her eyes, fought it even though the words on the page stopped making sense, though her lids drooped until she could not even see the page, and until the book dropped from her numbing fingers and her last conscious thought was that the candle in the sconce above her head had just gone out of its own accord.

Chapter 5

'Good morning, Mistress!'

The cheerful voice startled her awake, and even if it had not, the ruthless pulling aside of the curtains at the windows to let in a flood of sunshine surely would have.

Elena sat straight up in bed. A real bed. The same real, luxurious bed she had dreamed that she had climbed into last night. And she was in the same, gorgeous, glorious room that she had imagined in her dream.

Except that she was awake, very much awake, and she was still here. Those were her clothes folded up on the chair, which a little brown woman who probably stood no higher than her waist — whose ears, she could see, were rather pointed — was picking up, unfolding, and tsking over. She was dressed in a miniature, muted version of Madame Bella's eccentric costume.

She must be a Brownie, like the two old men last night. Which meant that they, too, were real.

'Oh, Mistress, these'll never do, these garments of yours,' the Faerie woman said firmly, and with, perhaps, just a touch of disdain. 'Maybe for working in the garden after rain, but not for every day. Not for an Apprentice.'

She had not been in her position a day, and already she was making mistakes, it seemed. This wasn't a very auspicious start. And last night, Madame Bella hadn't said a word about clothing.

'But I'm afraid they're the best I have — ' Elena said, weakly. 'I'm terribly sorry, but my stepmother — I'll wear whatever you like — '

The Faerie woman interrupted her, with a wave of her hand. She didn't seem annoyed; relieved, perhaps, that Elena had volunteered to wear what she chose. 'Oh, not to worry, not to worry. You won't need the whole turn-out for weeks and weeks yet, and Robin will have it all tailored up for you by then.' The little woman bustled about the room, unpacking Elena's few things and folding them away in a chest. 'Till then, I expect some of Madame's things will do. You're much of a size.' She opened one of the two wardrobes and began pulling clothing out.

Remembering Madame's rather — flamboyant — style of yesterday, Elena wondered if she ought to say something. Not that Madame Bella's clothing wasn't good but —

But fortunately, it seemed, the little woman's taste was a good bit quieter than Madame's. Out came a fine white linen shift and petticoat, a white blouse liberally trimmed at the cuffs with lace, a black twill skirt piped in green, and a black vest embroidered in green and purple, and a sash to match. Still far more colorful than anything Elena had worn in years, but by no means as eye-popping an ensemble as Madame's.

No corset, so there wasn't any need for help with dressing; and just as well, as Elena would really rather do without a corset if she could. Before the old woman could make a move to serve as a body-servant, Elena quickly climbed out of bed and put the clothing on, feeling an unaccustomed urge to giggle with nervousness. It wasn't that she was shy about disrobing in front of a stranger — years living among the rest of the servants had cured her of any such illusions of modesty. No, it was the giddy and dizzying rush of realizing that this was real.

It wasn't a dream — it wasn't a dream. She was the Apprentice to a Fairy Godmother. She was living in a house that was bigger on the inside than the outside, waited on by Faerie Folk.

I am going to learn magic. Magic! How incredible could this be? Here she was, with Faerie Folk all around her, and she was going to learn magic herself!

The old woman — much less wrinkled, and much more apple-cheeked than the old men, Elena noted — surveyed her with hands on her hips when Elena had finished dressing. 'You'll do,' she said brusquely. 'Those colors suit you. Foot.'

'Excuse me?' Elena replied, now utterly bewildered.

'Your foot, girl, show me your foot!' the old woman repeated, and with absolute confusion, Elena lifted her skirt and held up one of her feet.

The old woman seized it in a hand as hard as horn, and looked it over, muttering to herself. Then she let go, to Elena's relief, and bustled over to another chest.

From there she took a pair of soft slippers of the sort that tightened with ribbons to fit, and handed them to Elena. 'Barefoot only in the garden, Mistress,' she said, in a tone that warned that there would be no arguing with her. 'Shod elsewise. People come here, Mistress. You must be a credit to the Godmother as her Apprentice. People have to respect you, as they respect her.'

Meekly, Elena took the shoes, and the stockings that the Brownie woman handed to her, and put them on. The shoes were of a leather that was as soft as velvet, and she was terribly afraid that she would have them ruined within an hour.

Still, if this was what was proper —

The Brownies were known for strict adherence to the truth. Rose — for surely this must be Rose, who did the 'cleaning' — would not tell her to do something that was not correct. Very well. If these were the shoes that were right, then she would wear them.

It's all true.

'Right then, Mistress. Come along.' The little woman opened the door and stood there, beckoning. 'Time to break your fast and start on your work. You've a lot to learn, and you're a bit late coming to it.'

'Are you Rose?' Elena asked, as the little woman made impatient shooing motions with both hands, as if Elena was a giant chicken.