Beauty
David asked Elizabeth to marry him on the first day of autumn. She made him wait all night for her answer. I could hear her pacing her room, around and around, all night. Just before dawn she left her room and went down the stairs. I crept quietly after her to the head of the stairs, crouched down and peered through the banister rails. She was swaying a little – tired, I think.
“What are you doing?” Hob hissed in my ear. I fell backwards. “Are you spying on Elizabeth?”
“No, no!” I said. “Well, not really. I just – I just wanted to know if she’s going to say yes or not.”
“Of course she is! You don’t need to watch her do it. Come back to bed.”
“But I-“
Just then, we heard footsteps on the tiled floor and then David came into view. Hob clapped her hand over my mouth. “Try not to listen, nosy,” she murmured, but we both did, of course.
He asked her whether she had decided. She looked at him as though she had never seen him before in her life, then giggled and nodded, once, very quickly. He took her hands and they kissed and kissed. She seemed to need his help to stand up straight.
That was the point at which Hob pulled me away. We both went back to bed and later in the morning pretended to be surprised when Elizabeth told us the news. They were engaged, but they had not set a date; they apparently had some scheme in mind that they wanted to come off before the wedding.
Simon, who had started to visit us after the ball, came more and more often. Hob, Simon and I became the greatest of friends and he would often stay until late at night and we would talk and talk. I felt like I was expanding to become a real person, to take some charge of my own story, my own life. I was growing, and Hob was shrinking into herself. Of all the things we talked about, all the schemes we made, she never tried to do any. It wasn’t like her, or at least it never had been.
For my sixteenth birthday, she bought me a mirror. I opened the parcel and then gasped in astonishment as my own face looked back up at me. It had been nine years since I had last seen my own face and now I was beautiful. I truly don’t believe that I am vain, but I used to check my face in it every morning, to check that it had not changed over night. People often stared at me when I walked about in the city and it was comforting to know that it was not because there was anything wrong with me.
There had never been a mirror in our house, not for as long as any of us could remember, but now Hob had brought one in. It was as though a prohibition had been lifted. Soon I had a dressing table mirror and a full length mirror in my room, and throughout the house they began to appear. I would walk through a room and catch a glimpse of a stranger, but when I turned to see who it was, it would be my own reflection, caught on a piece of glass. It was a strange thing to get used to.
Perhaps a month after my birthday, I went looking for Hob. I knew that she had gone out that morning, but I thought perhaps she had come back since. I couldn’t find her to tell her, but when I walked into my room I saw a stranger there, by the mirror. She was staring into it, and had not heard me approach until I was close enough to see her properly. I let out an involuntary gasp, and she spun around, so I could see her properly. She had the most beautiful face I have ever seen, but it was my own. I felt again that sense of a stranger wearing my face that I knew every time I glimpsed myself in a mirror. For a moment I was stunned out of speech, then I saw the differences between us. This girl was older than I, her face more mature, perhaps wiser, her eyes darker and deeper than my own. Then she ran from the room and I knew her.
“Hob!” I called out, chasing after her. Father heard me call and came out of his study, and at the foot of the great stairs Simon, who had obviously just arrived, turned to stare. Hob threw a panicked glance back at us, and sped on. Father chased after her, grabbed hold of her arm and held her still. I ran up to them, and Simon hurried up the stairs.
