Ephemia Rimaldi, page 10
“Were you coming from the cook’s tent?”
Effy nodded.
“What did you want with Mabel?” Mr. Jefferson eyed the jar of honey, “She’s not one for doling out honey, even if you are the ringmaster’s daughter.”
Effy swallowed the rest of her apple. “The honey’s for emergency uses only.” Then she had a thought and stopped mid-stride. “I think you don’t care about the honey, Are you asking because you’re curious about Miss Mabel?”
Mr. Jefferson blushed.
“You’re sweet on her.” Effy clapped her hand over her mouth, realizing she’d said that aloud.
Mr. Jefferson cleared his throat. “She is a very fine-look ing woman.”
“Even though she has a beard?” Once again words flew out of Effy’s mouth, and she wished she could take them back. Miss Mabel was kind, and it was not proper to comment on her difference. Effy had been raised better.
“I . . . I’m sorry, ah, again.” Her cheeks heated up.
Mr. Jefferson laughed. “Mabel has a beard until she retires to her wagon at nightfall. Then she takes it off. In the morning, she glues it back on.”
“Oh.” Effy hadn’t guessed. A circus, it seemed, was like I a magic show. Illusion was what caught people’s attention and drew them in.
Mr. Jefferson picked up the ladder, “She’s a fine, handsome woman, anyway. A beard wouldn’t matter.”
Effy held on for one more moment. “Why don’t you tell her how you feel?”
“Oh, I . . . couldn’t.” Mr. Jefferson’s voice faded as if he had laryngitis. “I . . . could never find the words.”
Effy smiled. “There are carnations bordering the farmer’s field, by Phineas’s wagon. Go there and pick Miss Mabel a bouquet of red ones. If you hand her those, you won’t need to say a single word.”
Miss Mabel would understand. Red carnations—my heart aches for you. Effy rushed away. If a man didn’t give a fig as to whether or not a woman had a beard, Effy decided he’d probably make a passable husband.
She followed the trail to a small clearing. The sharp smell of fast-moving water sprayed down the two jutting cliffs. When she stepped through a thin grove of flaming red maple trees, she spotted the elephant cavorting in the large pond. Balally trilled and chirped in unmistakable glee as she pad dled. Once again it struck Effy how Balally had all the heart and joy of any person she’d met—perhaps even more so.
“Balally hasn’t had a good bath in so long.” Cuthbert looked as if someone had given him the best gift ever. “She . . . deserves this.” He choked on those last words.
The elephant lifted her trunk and playfully sprayed water at them. Laughing, Effy thought this was the closest she’d get to washing up. If only she’d brought a stick of lye soap with her. Balally waded deeper and floated. Effy marvelled that an elephant’s face could show such bliss, or at least, that’s how it looked. Cuthbert, knee-deep in the pond, kept a close eye on his elephant.
Effy longed to dive in. She hadn’t been swimming in a pond since her farm days, when no one cared what she did in those slivers of time between chores. Only she didn’t dare wet her plain pinafore dress. She really ought to have packed more clothes. She surprised herself by thinking longingly of the short bloomers and top she’d worn in the parade. How those would be perfect for swimming.
Effy sat on the shore, imagining she floated in the pond’s cool depths. She began tossing rocks into the water, watching how her single rock caused a series of circles spreading wider and wider. Aunt Ada had once told her that every leaflet they handed out, every march they attended spread the idea of women’s rights wider I and wider. Like her skimming rocks in a pond.
If only everyone could embrace those ideas. Not just privileged girls like Madelene supposed Effy was. Privileged? Why, she was only one step away from cooking and scrubbing clothes, and cleaning day and night in a boarding house.
After Balally reluctantly climbed on the shore, Effy patched the wounds on the elephant’s limb. She applied crushed marigold and yarrow, slathered a barrier of honey, and wrapped Balally’s leg in the long winding strips of her petticoat.
“You also have the skills of a healer,” Cuthbert said.
“Madelene’s the one who should become a doctor,” said Effy. “Aunt Ada wanted me to go to college first to discover my one true purpose.”
“Goose, a girl can’t become a doctor.” Sofia, the girl on the train, stepped from behind the big maple tree. She shook her head. “You will never cease to amaze me, Effy Rimaldi. I knew I’d spotted you in that circus wagon, standing beside that handsome boy. Please tell me you ran away to marry a trapeze artist.”
Effy choked out a “no.” She stood, brushed off the dried leaves that had stuck to her pinafore, then broke into a run toward Sofia.
“Friends do not leave friends standing at the train station without as much as a note.” Sofia placed her hands on her hips. “Not to mention, I was swooning with worry, wondering where you’d run off.”
As usual, Sofia always had more than enough words for both of them—which was a good thing given Effy’s current situation.
Sofia dropped her arms, broke into a smile, and hugged Effy. “But I forgive you.”
Effy hugged Sofia back as if she was her only friend in the world—which, of course, she was. “What will your mother say when she discovers I’m a child of the circus?”
“Leave Mama to me, goose,” said Sofia. “Right now, she thinks I’m with my governess, who thinks I’m with Mama. But why aren’t you at the academy?”
Effy hung her head. “I don’t know if I’ll ever convince Phineas to send me.”
Sofia gave Effy’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Fathers can’t say no to their daughters.”
Perhaps not all fathers, but mine has no trouble at all, thought Effy.
Balally squeaked and chirped, eager to join in the conversation.
“Oh, my goodness,” Sofia stepped back, her arm I loosely draped around Effy’s shoulders. “There are no words,” she added breathlessly.
“Beautiful,” offered Cuthbert, “majestic, intelligent, gentle . . .
“Cuthbert’s partial to Balally,” said Effy with a smile. “But he’s correct.”
“May I . . . pet her?” Sofia asked. She was beginning to amaze Effy.
Sofia looked at Balally. With the softest of whispers, Sofia cooed at the gigantic beast. When Balally lowered her head, Sofia approached without hesitation and scratched behind the elephant’s ear.
“My elephant has made another good friend,” said Cuthbert. As he led Balally onto the path, Effy and Sofia fell in behind.
“Just so you know,” Effy felt compelled to mention, “women can and have become doctors.”
“Do you suppose there are husbands out there who don’t mind wives with ambitions?” asked Sofia.
“I imagine Dr. Stowe’s husband didn’t mind, or her daughter’s husband,” Effy said, matter-of-factly. “Besides, women must be able to care for themselves and not be rescued like the princesses in your fairy tales.”
Effy knew she was parroting Aunt Ada’s lectures. It didn’t matter. Her own heart agreed.
Sofia nodded. “I’m beginning to understand that no one is coming to our rescue. Mama must start her own business.”
When they reached the circus grounds, Effy and Sofia froze.
Standing near the pen with their arms folded and huge scowls plastered on their faces were the ringmaster and Mrs. Winterbottom.
Sofia gasped and Effy’s heart began to pound.
Chapter 18: An Elephant’s Dilemma
Cuthbert slowed. He stopped Balally and patted her trunk. Looking at Effy and Sofia, he said in a quavering voice, “I fear we’ve made the ringmaster angry. Already, Phineas keeps talking about auctioning her off to local farmers.”
Sofia let out a shriek. Her mother shot a sharp look her way, but Sofia ignored her. “Cuthbert, this he must never do. Reading the book, Black Beauty, showed me how cruelly we treat our animals. Why, it was in the newspaper that boys in the next town kept shooting one of those elephants sold to a farmer. They thought their stupid bullets couldn’t pierce her hide.”
“Sofia, come here now,” Mrs. Winterbottom said forcefully.
“That elephant suffered most miserably before she died,” Sofia hissed. “Those boys acted like she didn’t feel pain or fear.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, and not because her mother looked furious, or at least, in Effy’s estimate, not entirely.
“Ephemia Rimaldi,” the ringmaster said coldly. “A word, please. Do you think strolling with an elephant is what I meant by staving safe?” Phineas dropped his arms by his side, clenching and unclenching his fists.
Phineas sounded genuinely curious, but Effy knew his flashing eyes meant there was a storm of anger brewing
“Balally’s gentle and wise and smart,” Effy tried to reassure him.
“You know nothing of beasts,” growled Phineas. “Circus hands are killed every day by elephants that go rogue.”
“Balally is not a rogue elephant If you understood elephants, you’d realize only male elephants . . . “
“Stop right there!” Phineas held hos hand in front of Effy’s face, and her words died on her lips.
Her so-called poppa did not appear to be fond of lengthy explanations Phineas’s glare held her transited for several seconds. Then he bellowed. “Tarnation, child. Are you always so vexing!?”
Effy almost jumped out of her boots. She shook her head “No . . . I just . . .I—”
Phineas cut her off. “I told you to stay out of danger.”
“But I wasn’t in danger . . . I . . . ” Effy’s words failed her. This was a rare thing, indeed.
Phineas lifted his arm and pointed his finger at Cuthbert. “You, get your elephant safely chained and penned.” Cuthbert scrambled away with Balally.
“But . . . ” began Bitty.
“You!” Phineas pointed to her caravan. “Get inside your wagon and stay there. Do not leave it until I say so.”
Effy decided a hasty retreat would be for the best. She waved a hurried goodbye to Sofia.
This was a setback, truly, but Effy knew she must forge ahead. Aunt Ada would have said so.
*
The dinner gong sounded. Surely Phineas had not meant for her to starve to death inside a dark and creepy caravan. He must have meant she could leave for meals.
Effy shot out of her wagon and allowed herself a small detour. She headed straight for the elephant pen. “Cuthbert?”
“I’m up here.” Cuthbert was perched on a tree branch overhanging the elephant’s pen. He broke off a smaller branch and tossed it to Balally.
Balally lunged for the branch and began gnawing on its bark and leaves.
“Wouldn’t she rather eat hay?” asked Effy. Bark didn’t sound like a delicious dinner. Although . hay didn’t sound much better.
Effy reached into the pocket of her pinafore. Producing her last apple, she handed it to Balally.
Balally used her trunk to delicately pluck the apple from Effy’s hand, and she swore Balally trilled: “Thank you.”
Cuthbert climbed down from the tree. “Balally needs the bark and leaves to keep her teeth healthy.” He said this flatly, and when he looked at Effy, she was surprised at his grim expression.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Cuthbert began patting Balally’s trunk as if he was soothing himself, not her. He looked back at Effy and took a breath. “I fear the ringmaster meant what he said. He will auction off Balally.”
“No!”
Effy spun around and discovered Madelene was standing right behind her. She must have come to check on her patient. Madelene’s face had gone pale as milk.
“Cuthbert, the ringmaster can’t do that!” Madelene cried. Cuthbert used his sleeve to swipe his face.
Madelene grabbed Effy by the shoulders. “You must stop your father from selling off our elephant. I’ve seen so many circus elephants suffer because of unskilled caretakers. Make yourself useful, ringmaster’s daughter. Save Balally.”
Effy tried tamping down her temper but gave up. “How am I supposed to convince Phineas of anything? He just wants me out of his sight. You and your brother had a good part in that.”
Madelene looked balefully at Balally. “Please, convince your father.”
“My fate is sealed with Phineas,” said Effy. “You heard him. I’m a step away from being sent to a boarding house.”
“Then you must think of another way, for Balally’s sake.” Madelene hurried away.
How could she win the ringmaster’s affection? Phineas had been very clear on two things: He thought Balally was a menace, and Effy could not be a performer, any more than he could be a father.
Madelene was right. Effy needed a new solution. Not just because Madelene had challenged her; Effy wasn’t one to back away. This was . . . something new. At this moment, she didn’t care a fig what Madelene or anyone thought about her. She didn’t even care about getting into a good school.
Balally mattered more.
Chapter 19: The Sapphire is Cursed
Cuthbert held a branch as Balally’s trunk curled around it. The elephant crunched it into her mouth while leaves and twigs scattered on the ground like breadcrumbs. Effy stood outside the pen, remembering a conversation she’d overheard a few nights before. It was important. Something about how Cuthbert could save his elephant.
The sapphire!
“Please forgive me,” said Effy. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop between you and your uncle the other night, but don’t you have a valuable gem you could sell, and send Balally back to Ceylon?”
“I need Balally’s papers of ownership,” said Cuthbert. “You can’t just send a random elephant away on a boat.” Then he sighed. “Besides, that sapphire is cursed. Calamity will strike any man who profits from it.”
“Why does everyone believe in superstitions?” Effy placed her hands on her hips.
It wasn’t just Cuthbert or his uncle.
“Stepping under a ladder will only bring bad luck to a tent rigger if a bucket falls on his head. Sofia didn’t make friends with me because she found a hairpin on the train. And dear Aunt Ada didn’t die because a bird crashed into her window.” Effy fought back a few treacherous tears.
“You can’t let a foolish belief cloud your judgments.” Effy worried she was sounding uppity again, but she had to say it. “Curses aren’t real.”
“They are to my uncle.” Cuthbert shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his billowing trousers. “And he’s the one we must convince. I mean, as well as the ringmaster, to have a change of heart about signing away his elephant.” He shook his head. “These are impossible tasks.”
Silently, they walked across the sawdust-strewn midway toward the cook’s tent. Coloured lanterns hung from poles and carts and glowed otherworldly in the dusky evening. They passed a vending cart cluttered with toy monkeys dangling on strings above a row of kewpie dolls. A carnival game of pins and balls stretched across the midway.
Effy’s stomach grumbled as she passed a red cart piled with sacks of chestnuts ready for roasting. Another vending cart set on silver sunburst wheels was outfitted with a round tin pan for spinning sugar. She imagined sweet cotton candy melting on her tongue.
She’d only eaten apples all day. No wonder there was a dull thudding in her skull. Her mouth filled with saliva when they entered the cook’s tent that once again smelled of cornbread and molasses.
“Beans, that’s what we get for lunch and dinner every night. I heard Ringling Circus feeds its workers fried chicken,” growled the strong man.
“Chicken?” Another handler spat on the ground in dis gust. “I’d settle for a scrap of rabbit or pigeon meat in a stew. We haven’t had the likes of any of that for a donkey’s age.”
Cuthbert and Effy held out tin plates as the cook scooped baked beans and tossed a huge hunk of warm cornbread on top. They sat on stools beside the trestle table, and Effy dived into her food with wolfish bites. A fly scurried across Effy’s cornbread. “Get your own dinner,” she mumbled with her mouth full, and flicked it with her finger.
As Effy watched the fly zigzag away, she noticed not everyone else in the cook’s tent was miserable. Her eyes widened when she spotted Mr. Jefferson and Miss Mabel sitting across from each other and gazing into each other’s eyes. They were positively moonfaced. Between them sat a vase stuffed with a huge bunch of red carnations. Then Miss Mabel reached over and took Mr. Jefferson’s hand.
Miss Dot stopped by Effy’s table and whispered in her ear. “There’s a rumour about a spring wedding. I also heard there’s a certain ringmaster’s daughter to whom they are beholden.”
A grin spread across Effy’s face. She remembered the rocks she’d tossed into the pond and how, from her single rock, a series of rings spread wider and wider. This felt the same.
“Phineas Rimaldi has summoned you.”
Effy looked up at the heavily moustached man leaning over her. He was the canvas-man who rigged the tent. “You’d best leave the rest of your supper. Daughter or not, when the ringmaster summons, you go.”
Effy felt her grin slide away. She pushed out her stool, exchanged a worried glance with Cuthbert, and quickly fol lowed the man.
As Effy rushed to keep up, he barked orders at circus troupers who were making last-minute preparations for the show and setting up ticket booths.
The tiny mirrors decorating Phineas’s caravan glowed orange in the setting sun. Effy stood on the step and knocked on the red door. Only then, did the boss canvas-man leave. She knocked again.
“Do not lollygag. Just come in,” Phineas said gruffly.
Effy swallowed and slowly opened the door. Surprisingly, the interior of the caravan was spare and humble. No mirrors or paint decorated the pine walls, and it was furnished with a single cot built into the back. A heavy metal cashbox sat on the shelf. The only other stick of furniture was a small table on the other side of the wagon beside the sleeping cot. On that table sat a hurricane lamp, the wick glowing softly in the dim light, illuminating a circus ledger.
