I didn’t return to school after the break, and Mother had made it impossible for me to see Anita. She was away at school while I was back in London, attending every ball and social event my mother could throw at me. It was a nightmare.

I was paraded around like a peacock, decked out in feathers and glittering jewels, and made to endure an endless parade of tedious young men. Looking back, I feel I should have found a way to enjoy myself more. But I resented my mother for keeping me away from Anita. I was brokenhearted, and I made my mother pay for it at every opportunity.

Before she had come home on Christmas Eve I had been longing to mend my relationship with her. Now, here she was devoting all her time to me, buying me the most beautiful clothes and finally giving me the attention I craved, but it felt so wrong. I fought her on it every step of the way.

I corresponded with Anita several times a week, each of us keeping each other up to date on our daily lives and counting the days until she would be home again. Anita’s letters back were always so cheerful. She was, of course, doing well in school, and she was pleasantly surprised that she liked the new girl who had taken my place in her room. I hated the idea of Anita spending time with her new roommate, taking our walks, having our conversations, and reading our book of fairy tales. I wanted her back home where she belonged.

After I was presented at court, the endless balls and glittering social events began.

My mother was just itching for me to accept one of the various proposals I had received from my many suitors. I was a catch, as they say. Titled, and soon to be in possession of an obscene amount of money. Over the course of the season my mother invited a legion of young gentlemen over for dinner, sometimes inviting them to stay for the weekend if they were visiting London from somewhere out of town. Socialite mercenary mothers went to great lengths to find their daughters suitable husbands, and she was relentless.

Every morning it was the same. She’d come into the dining room and tell me what our schedule was for the day—that is, if we didn’t have a visitor we were entertaining. “Good morning, Cruella!” her voice would ring out, and I knew I was in for a matchmaking onslaught.

“Good morning, Mother.” She would grab her coffee and sit down with it at the table with her diary.

“I miss the days when you called me your mama.”

I would roll my eyes and say something like, “Well, as you say, I am a lady now. I’m simply speaking like one.” She would pretend she didn’t hear me and list off our daily events from her diary.

One particular morning, we happened to have a visitor staying with us. He hadn’t made his way to the dining room yet.

“Jackson, is Lord Silverton awake?” Mother asked as Jackson and Jean placed a selection of pastries, fresh fruit, and eggs on the serving table.

“Yes, Lady De Vil, he will be down shortly.” Jackson put the newspaper at the place reserved for him. “I thought Lord Silverton would like to read the paper.”

I smiled at Jackson. “Yes, perhaps he can take a look at the train schedule. I’m sure he’s eager to get back home.”

My mother set her cup of coffee down with an annoyed thump. “Cruella. He’s a very fine young man.”

“Yes, Mother, I am sure he is. But he is also incredibly boring.”

“Cruella, it is the lady’s job to keep the conversation moving. If you’re bored then you’re not doing your job correctly.” She took a pile of invitations from a silver tray Jackson presented to her.

“Oh, I ask him questions, and he’s all too happy to talk about himself. I just don’t want to listen to another of his tedious stories, Mother. I can only listen to so many tales of horses, fox hunting, and shooting quail. We have nothing in common,” I said, sipping my coffee and deciding if I wanted to eat anything. I felt queasy at the thought of enduring another conversation with Lord Silverton. Oh, he was handsome enough, I suppose. All golden and fair, with delicate features, blue eyes and all that. Perfect and boring, like vanilla ice cream.

“Your father and I had nothing in common, and look at us,” she said, giving me the side-eye over her coffee cup.

“Well, I’d be happy to find a man like Papa if I had a mind to marry,” I said. “But as far as Lord Boredington goes, there isn’t enough money in all the world that would make me want to marry him.” I couldn’t help laughing at my own joke. Someone had to laugh, because my mother didn’t seem to find it amusing in the least.

“Of course you’re going to marry, Cruella. And do stop making up insulting names for people.”

“Yes, Mother.” But she couldn’t sway me.

I had set myself against the idea of marriage long before. It had become quite clear to me that I hated being told what to do. I wanted to be independent. “No man worth his salt will be willing to let his children take his wife’s name, Mother,” I said.

“Well, my dear Cruella, if you find a rich enough husband like Lord Silverton then you won’t have to worry about that.” I couldn’t believe she was suggesting I go against my papa’s wishes.

“I made a promise to Papa. That’s the end of it, Mother. If I ever do get married, and I doubt I ever will, I will not take his name.” Mother closed her diary and tapped it with her pen.

“Well, Cruella, the Queen didn’t take her husband’s name, and look how that’s turned out. Do you want to live your life resented by your husband?”

I laughed.

“Well, Mother, that’s one of the reasons I don’t intend to marry.” I thought on it. “And the Queen gets to be the Queen. If I got to be queen, being resented by my husband is a sacrifice I’d be willing to make.”

“That’s cheeky, Cruella, even for you.”

Just then Lord Boringpants came into the dining room. “Well, that is disappointing news, Lady Cruella,” he said, smiling at me in a way he obviously thought was dashing. “But I bet I can change your mind. I think your mother is in possession of an invitation from my own, inviting you to our estate for the weekend.” He was beaming, way too chipper for someone who hadn’t had their coffee yet. I imagined myself married to this relentlessly happy man and it made my stomach churn.

“Oh, I don’t know, Lord Silverton,” I said, but he pressed on.

“It will be the most topping weekend, Lady Cruella. I know you won’t be able to say no to my proposal once you see your future home.” I thought my mother was going to jump out of her seat and start dancing the jig right there on the dining room table. (Not that she would ever do such a thing, but honestly, I have never seen her that happy in my life.)

“Cruella!” she crowed. “You didn’t tell me Lord Silverton proposed. Jackson, bring the champagne!” I just sat there, drinking my coffee and laughing.

“Jackson, don’t bother. We won’t be needing the champagne.” My mother’s face fell lower than one of Mrs. Baddeley’s failed soufflés.

“Cruella! Must you always be such a beast? You’ve not even given Lord Silverton a chance.” The fact was Lord Stuffypants hadn’t even proposed. But he was quite transparent in his desire to. Didn’t he understand women like a bit of mystery?

“Don’t fret, Lady De Vil,” Lord Blunderpants said, sweeping his Prince Charming hair out of his face. “I haven’t proposed, not yet. I plan to after I woo her with the grandest of weekends at my parents’ estate. I know she won’t be able to say no.”

“I couldn’t possibly go, Lord Silverton. We have far too many obligations already. I couldn’t possibly put them off. It would be rude.”

“Oh, I could call them all, Cruella. Just leave that to me,” my mother said. “You have your weekend with Lord Silverton.” I was painted into a corner. I couldn’t get out of it without being rude, and I feared I could only push things so far with my mother. I had no other choice.

“Lord Silverton, I would love nothing more than to accept your invitation,” I said without emotion.

“Oh, this is so topping, Lady Cruella! I’m going to call Mother and tell her you’re coming.”

I smiled and boldly took his hand. “I had no idea you were so progressive, Lord Silverton. I never imagined you would be the sort of man who wouldn’t mind taking his wife’s name.” For the first time since his arrival, Lord Silverton’s smile faded.

“What’s that, Lady Cruella?” he asked. “I’m sure I must have heard you incorrectly.” I smirked at my mother.

“No, Lord Silverton, I’m afraid you heard me correctly. You see, my papa’s last wish was that I keep my family name. I am the last of the De Vil line.” Lord Silverton looked thoroughly disappointed, and a little frightened. He had all but proposed, and I could see his wheels spinning, wondering if I was going to make him stick to his word. I didn’t mind watching him squirm a little longer before I let him off the hook.

“Well, Mother would never allow it,” he said, fidgeting. “Are you absolutely sure, Lady Cruella? Is there no way around it?”

I looked down, feigning that I was terribly disappointed.

“I’m afraid there isn’t.” And then I took a gamble. “Well, I do suppose there is one way around it,” I said, looking up at him with sad eyes. “I could give up my inheritance. But I suppose that wouldn’t matter to a great family like yours.” Lord Silverton’s expression turned to something else entirely. The brilliant, smiling facade was replaced by anger and frustration. I had heard his family had been struggling to keep up their estate, and they were considering selling off some of the land to keep it going. It was a miracle they had held on to that mammoth of an albatross as long as they had. I had seen so many families brought to ruin by simply trying to hold on to their family’s enormous, burdensome estates. The last ditch effort was always marrying money. And I had calculated correctly.

“Ah, I just remembered, I have to catch the next train. . . .”

I patted Lord Penniless on the hand.

“No need to go on, Lord Silverton. I completely understand. I release you of any understanding we may have had.” And he literally dashed out of the room with barely a thank you and a goodbye to my mother. She was livid.

“Cruella! How dare you frighten him away like that?”

I walked to the sideboard and got myself another cup of coffee while she told me off. “You heard him, Lady Silverton wouldn’t have allowed him to marry a woman who kept her name,” I responded.

“Would it be so tragic to go against your father’s wishes?” she asked.

“Mother! His family needs him to marry someone with money. He wasn’t interested in me, he was interested in my fortune.”

She slammed her hand on the table, making the coffee cups and saucers rattle.

“I would have settled on an amount with his family. You wouldn’t be going into the marriage penniless, I would have arranged a yearly dress allowance for you as well. This is why you must leave these sorts of things to me, my dear. I would have made all the arrangements.” It was in that moment I knew my decision to never marry was the right one. The idea of my mother arranging a marriage in some stuffy drawing room with some lord or baron’s mother, agreeing to settle on an amount of money for them to take me off her hands like some kind of prized cow was laughable. It reminded me of Miss Upturn, and Arabella Slaptton, and everything I hated.

“Mother, I will never marry! Never! So you might as well give up the idea entirely.” That wasn’t the life I wanted. “Besides, Papa wanted me to be happy.”

I still had it in my mind that I would spend my days with Anita as my companion. Traveling the world together, seeing everything we had ever read about in our most cherished books. And I had a notion to find that distant and magical land where my earrings had been found by that ill-fated pirate, the one my father told me about the night he gave them to me. I was going to spring it on Anita the next time we saw each other. A grand pirate adventure. Curses, and heroes, and villains, just like one of Princess Tulip’s fairy tales.

It would be just the two of us. No stuffy lords or meddlesome mothers. From that point on I refused to go to any more balls or social engagements my mother tried to arrange. And I refused to wear any of my fabulous furs or feathers or any of the other things my mother had heaped upon me for the purposes of snagging a husband. I couldn’t stand to touch anything she had given me. She had even forced me into gaudy diamonds that dripped from my ears; I hadn’t worn my cherished jade earrings since Christmas. Poor Papa. He wouldn’t approve of what Mother was trying to do. He wouldn’t want me married to some boring man with a boring name who spent his idle days hunting, flitting from place to place depending on the season like a migrating bird. A man completely lacking in imagination. I’m sure he would want someone who loved my independent spirit. And someone who loved me for me, not just my money.

My mother, frustrated that I refused to see any more of her suitors, went off on one of her trips and announced she wouldn’t be back for some time. I was thrilled. I could have Anita stay with me. I called her the moment my mother left for her trip to Paris or wherever it was she’d run off to. I was almost sure she wouldn’t be returning home in time to celebrate my eighteenth birthday, and honestly, I was secretly hoping she wouldn’t. Everything was as it should be. My solicitor, Sir Huntley, had sent over the paperwork that detailed my new allowance once I turned eighteen. I didn’t need mama anymore, and I found myself feeling much more at home without her there. I was the lady of the house while she was away.

Before I knew it, the school term was over and Anita was to return home. Back to Belgrave Square, where she belonged. With me. And with her extended family, my servants. Anita had always been close to them, and since our holiday meal together I had felt closer to them than ever before. Mrs. Baddeley and Jackson had kept me sane throughout mother’s husband-hunting season, what with Jackson’s commiserating looks and my sneaking down to the kitchen to talk with Mrs. Baddeley about the awful bores my mother was throwing at me. But now I would have my Anita back. I couldn’t wait. The day had finally arrived.

I stood in the entryway for what felt like an eternity waiting for Anita to arrive. I couldn’t just sit in the morning room waiting for her to be ushered in and announced by Jackson. She wasn’t a mere guest. She was my family. My only family, now that Papa was gone and Mama had all but given up on me. Then I finally heard the car pulling up out front. I didn’t even let Jackson open the door entirely before I dashed over to give her a hug.

“Oh, Anita! I am so happy to see you!” I threw my arms around her.

She looked more radiant than ever. We wrapped our arms around each other, holding on tightly before letting go. She had the most beautiful smile on her face. She was home.

“Cruella! Happy birthday!” she said. I had almost forgotten it was my birthday. I was too excited about her visit.

“Miss Anita,” Jackson said, “I will have your things taken upstairs. I’m sure Mrs. Baddeley is eager to say hello if you’d like to go down and see her. I think she might have a little surprise for you.” He gave her a little wink.

“Oh, yes,” said Anita. “Come on, Cruella.” She took my hand.

“What are you up to?” I asked. “Why is Jackson ushering us downstairs?” Anita just laughed.

“It’s just as he said. I’m sure he realizes I am excited to see Mrs. Baddeley. Come on.”

I remember holding Anita’s small hand in mine as we walked down the stairs. It reminded me so much of walking down the stairs with Miss Pricket when I was a little girl. I almost felt giddy. There was an excitement in the air. It was almost entirely dark, but I could hear the giggling of the housemaids, and Mrs. Baddeley shushing them as I was taken from the kitchen to the servants’ hall. The scent of chocolate filled the air.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong with the lights?” I called out into the dark. And then, with a spark, they switched on.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CRUELLA!”

Everyone was there. Jean, Paulie, the footmen, and Mrs. Baddeley. Within moments, Jackson joined us. My family. They were all there. “Oh, Anita! Did you arrange this?” She smiled and patted Mrs. Baddeley on the arm.

“Along with Mrs. Baddeley, and of course Jackson. They did all the work.”

And they had gone all out. The room was beautifully decorated with black and white streamers and balloons. And sitting on the servants’ hall table was the tallest, most elaborately decorated cake I had ever seen. “You’ve outdone yourself, Mrs. Baddeley!” It was a many tiered cake, with alternating dark chocolate and vanilla layers.

“I’m so happy you’re all here,” I said. “Especially you, Anita,” I added in a low voice only she could hear.

“I have one more surprise for you, Cruella.” Anita seemed very excited, and a little nervous. “I hope you won’t mind.” A familiar figure came out from the kitchen. It was Miss Pricket! But she looked different. She wasn’t dressed like a gover-ness. She was in a lovely little traveling suit, with matching shoes and handbag, and her hair was softly falling around her face.

“Miss Pricket!” I hadn’t realized how much I had truly missed her. “I’m so happy to see you, Miss Pricket. Can you ever forgive me—” She stopped me before I could continue.

“Never mind that now, Cruella. I understand. I was just so happy when Anita wrote me to say you’d like to see me again.” And I had. I had desperately wanted to see her again, but I’d feared she would reject me. I had told Anita about it in our many letters. Told her how I had felt after Christmas, how I felt I had made a terrible mistake. How I wished I could have changed everything after that horrible row with my mother on Christmas Eve. I told her how miserable I was, trapped at home with Mother without Anita or Miss Pricket to be my allies. And now Mother was gone, and I had my Anita and Miss Pricket back again. Life was good. It was as it should be.

It was a wonderful evening of merrymaking, the most fun I’d had in months. This time I didn’t care if my mother came home or not. I neither wished for her to be there to help celebrate nor dreaded her return ruining our pretty time. Not that she would sully herself downstairs with the likes of Anita or the staff. Mother had completely slipped my mind. . . .

Until the bell rang—just like it had on Christmas Eve.

But this time, my heart didn’t sink. I was eighteen. Mother no longer controlled me. And she had never controlled my money. According to the missive I’d received from our solicitors, my allowance was to be raised; I was to have an income of my own, and more control over the finances in general. The capital and house would still be held in trust until I was of age. Whatever she said to me when I opened that door, however she scolded me, it couldn’t hurt me now.

But that bell would change my life more than I could ever have imagined. At the door was a gift. From my father. Arranged by him with his solicitor before his passing.

A gift for my eighteenth birthday.

I met Sir Huntley in the vestibule. He seemed surprised to find me coming from downstairs, but said nothing on the matter. He just smiled, his round little eyes turning into half-moons. Beside him, on the round table in the center of the entryway, was a wicker basket. Something was wiggling under the red blanket within.

“Miss Cruella, your father asked that I give you this along with the other provisions that were detailed in the missive I sent you last week. I trust you understood everything?”

“Yes, Sir Huntley, but what is this?” I asked, looking at the basket.

“This, my dear, is Perdita. A gift from your father.” He smiled and took a puppy from the basket. She was the most adorable thing I had ever laid eyes on.

“Perdita!” I swooned. A puppy. A black-and-white puppy. A Dalmatian puppy. She was beautiful. She had a vivid red bow tied around her neck with a tag that had her name printed upon it. Perdita. “But how? Why?”

“Your father made arrangements in his will that you were to be gifted Perdita on your eighteenth birthday. He was very specific on the breed and name.”

“Isn’t Perdita a character in A Winter’s Tale?” I asked, wondering if Papa simply chose the name because he knew I was fond of such stories, or if there was a deeper meaning.

“He said you would recognize the name. He also gave me a note to go along with his gift. He said you would understand.”

Distinguish yourself.

And I did understand. I understood it completely.

It was the same message Mother had included with every gift she had ever given to me. But it all started with the fur coat, the one that nearly overshadowed the mysterious jade earrings Papa had given me. He must have seen her note that night in my room. Distinguish yourself. Her meaning was quite different than his, of course. She wanted me to be more like her. To distinguish myself from everyone else. But Papa had always wanted me to be my own woman. He wanted me to distinguish myself from my mother.

I felt like this was a sign that I was doing the right thing by distancing myself from my mother. I felt like he would approve of the choices I had made since he’d died.

“Your father always wanted to give you a puppy, Cruella. He was only sorry he had to wait until he was gone to do it,” said Sir Huntley. “He said it was something you always asked for, but Lady De Vil resolutely forbade.” That was true. I’d cried myself to sleep many nights when I was a girl, wishing I could have a puppy. A Dalmatian puppy, to be exact. And my papa remembered.

I loved my father more than ever in that moment. And I loved Perdita. I had Anita and Miss Pricket home with me again, and for the first time I didn’t need my mother. I felt like all was right in my world.

And I couldn’t have been more wrong.