Jackalope Wives and Other Stories by Kingfisher T. & Vernon Ursula

Author:Kingfisher, T. & Vernon, Ursula [Kingfisher, T. & Vernon, Ursula]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Anthologies, poetry
Amazon: B071946RLN
Goodreads: 35058181
Publisher: Red Wombat Studio
Published: 2017-05-02T07:00:00+00:00

“We are going to the ball!’ said Hannah’s older stepsister when Hannah came in with an armload of vegetable marrows.

“Good for you,” said Hannah, dropping her armload on the Cook’s table.

“You should come too,” said the younger stepsister. “All the girls will be there. Everyone is wearing their very best dresses.”

The older one snorted. “Fancy Hannah being there!”

“I hear the Duke has an orangery,” said Hannah thoughtfully. She had never seen an orangery, although she’d heard of them. They were frightfully expensive and required a great deal of glass.

“An orangery,” agreed the younger, knowing that Hannah was fond of plants. She chewed on her lower lip, wracking her brain. “And vast formal gardens with a hedge maze. And—oh, all manner of things! The centerpieces are supposed to be as large as wagon wheels, with so many flowers!”

“What would she wear?” demanded the eldest.

“Oh!” The younger stepsister considered. “We’d have to make her something. We could take in the hem on my green dress, perhaps—”

Hannah had not the least interest in floral centerpieces and only a vague professional curiosity about hedge mazes. She had less than no interest in hems and green dresses. But her stepsister meant well. She patted the other girl’s arm and went back outside.

She also had no interest in the ball. Balls sounded deathly dull. It might have been a good excuse to enter the Duke’s manor house, however, and perhaps there would have been tours of the orangery.

“But really,” she said aloud, scowling in the direction of the beans, “it’s probably not worth having to go to a ball. And she’s right—what would I wear?”

“Ahem,” said the tufted titmouse.

Hannah raised her eyebrows.

She was a good bit taller now than she had been at eleven, and so she and the bird were nearly at eye-level.

It looked like the same bird. Did they live that long?

Perhaps the magic ones did.

“I’m just saying,” said the bird, “you haven’t asked for anything. Not once.”

“I did too,” said Hannah. “I went and asked for a packet of nasturtium seeds. And received nothing, might I add.”

The bird sighed. “Dryads do not deliver the seeds of annuals,” it said, with a good bit of contempt. “Anyway, you’re not supposed to ask for anything. You’re supposed to take what you’re given.”

“I would have, if she’d given me nasturtium seeds.”

The titmouse rubbed a wing over its face.

“Just try it,” it said. “Tomorrow night, when your sisters are gone to the ball.”

“All right,” said Hannah. “If it gets me a look at that orangery, I’ll try it.”

The titmouse turned its head from side to side, in order to give her the full effect of its disapproving stare. “An orangery.”

“I want to see how it’s done,” said Hannah. “Oh, I can’t build one, I know—I haven’t the money for glass. Still, one might make do.”

“You haven’t got any money, have you?” said the titmouse.

“Yes, I do. I raise queen bees and sell them off. And I’ve been selling honey. The Gardener would normally take it but he hates going to the market.

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