The Sweet Far Thing

Ann is like a cat who has cornered the mouse. “What a lovely necklace.” She runs a finger boldly over the pearls and frowns. “Oh, it’s paste.”



Horrified, Cecily brings her hand to her neck. “But they can’t be!”



Ann gives her a look that is both pitying and contemptuous. “I am well versed in jewels, my dear, and I am so very sorry to inform you that your necklace is a forgery.”



Cecily’s face reddens, and I fear she will cry. She pulls the necklace off and examines it. “Oh, dear! Oh! I’ve shown everyone. They will think me a fool!”



“Or a fraud. Why, I heard a tale recently of a girl who passed herself off as nobility, and when her crime came to light, she was ruined. I should hate for such a fate to befall you,” Ann says, a hardness creeping into her tone.



Panicked, Cecily cups the pearls in her hands, hiding them. “What shall I do? I shall be ruined!”



“There, there.” Ann gently pats Cecily’s shoulder. “You mustn’t worry. I shall take the necklace for you. You may tell your mother it was lost.”



Cecily bites her lip and gazes at the pearls. “But she’ll be so angry.”



“It is better than being thought the fool—or worse—isn’t it?”



“Indeed,” Cecily mumbles. “I thank you for your good advice.” Reluctantly, she passes the necklace to Ann.



“I shall dispose of it for you, and you may be confident that no one shall ever know of it,” Ann assures her.



“You are most kind, Miss Washbrad.” Cecily wipes away tears.



“There is something in you that brings out this kindness,” Ann purrs, and her smile is like the sun.



“That was a remarkable forgery,” I say when we are alone. “How could you tell they were false? I could have sworn they were real pearls.”



“They are real,” Ann says, clasping the jewels around her own neck. “I am the remarkable forgery.”



“Why, Ann Bradshaw!” Felicity exclaims. “You are brilliant!”



Ann beams. “Thank you.”



We hold hands, relishing the moment as one. At last, Ann has bested the hideous Cecily Temple. The air feels lighter, as it does after a rain, and I am certain we are on our way to a happier future.



Mademoiselle LeFarge lets us know that the carriage has arrived. We introduce “Nan” to her and hold our breath, waiting for her response. Will she see through the illusion?



“How do you do, Miss Washbrad?”



“V-v-very well, thank you,” Ann answers in a faltering voice. I hold her hand tightly, for I fear that any lack of confidence might weaken the illusion she’s created. She must believe it wholeheartedly.



“It’s odd, but I can’t help feeling we’ve met before. There is something so familiar about you, though I cannot put my finger on it,” Mademoiselle LeFarge says.



I squeeze Ann’s hand, strengthening our bond. You are Nan Washbrad. Nan Washbrad. Nan Washbrad.



“I am often m-mistaken for others. Once I was even taken for a poor mouse of a girl at a boarding school,” Ann answers, and Felicity bursts out laughing.



“Forgive me,” Fee says, collecting herself. “I’ve only just gotten a joke told me last week.”



“Well, I am happy to make your acquaintance, Miss Washbrad,” LeFarge says. “Shall we? The carriage awaits.”



I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “That was a bit thick at the end, wasn’t it?” I whisper as the coachman opens the carriage door.



Ann grins. “But she believed it! She didn’t sense anything amiss. Our plan is working, Gemma.”



“That it is,” I say, patting her arm. “And it’s only the beginning. But let’s keep our heads about us.”



“My, what a beautiful necklace,” Mademoiselle LeFarge remarks. “Such exquisite pearls.”



“Thank you,” Ann says. “They were given to me by someone who did not properly appreciate their worth.”



“What a pity,” our teacher clucks.



The train ride to London is the most exciting yet. It is exhilarating to have such a powerful secret. I do feel a touch of remorse for tricking LeFarge, whom I like, but it was necessary. And I cannot deny that there is a thrill in knowing how easy it is to secure our freedom. Freedom—we’ll have more of that. Curiously, I find that as I make use of the magic, I feel better—more alive and awake. Nearly giddy.



“What shall you do in London today, Mademoiselle LeFarge?” I ask.