I have not written since the day after Bluebeard first spoke to our father, when we visited Silvia and Warner in Coesfeld, but oh, how much has happened! Bluebeard has made good on his promise of showing Father and my brothers how well he could take care of Liesl or me.

The last week has been spent with the rest of the village, making merry. During the day, there are hunting and riding parties with the noble friends he has invited, and Bluebeard on his white stallion outshines them all. He also excelled at the swordsmanship display he organized yesterday in the town square. In the evenings, the whole village enjoys feasting and music and dancing with us.

Everyone is happy for my family's good fortune, though I know they continue to gossip about us. It is so sudden and strange—like something from a fairy story. The strangest part, to the villagers at least, is that Bluebeard has not yet declared his intentions on which of us he prefers.

I have overheard whispers at all the lavish events, and if I were vainer, I may no longer call most of the villagers my friends. They all seem to think Liesl, with her long dark hair and charming manner, is the obvious choice.

It is hard not to agree with them. We share a few traits—we're taller than most women, with brown eyes and long, straight noses—but then we diverge. My mousy brown hair is pin-straight, and I have never been as careful of the sun, so my skin is not lily-white like hers. Her figure is lovely and balanced, like the curves of a violin, while mine is wide in the hips and rather too narrow everywhere else. She has also turned down one proposal already, from the butcher's son last year. He was a dull boy, but an eligible match, though no one blamed her for the refusal. Everyone thought her beautiful and good enough to have her pick of any of the village boys. Now she might marry someone from farther beyond our home than the villagers have ever traveled.

Neither Liesl nor I are quite smitten with Bluebeard yet, despite the finery with which he surrounds us. Or at least, though we have not talked of it, it doesn't seem like Liesl is quite ready to say "yes" to him yet. All the expense begins to weigh on me. I rather hope Liesl is the one chosen, for I am still frightened of him.

But this is silly, is it not? He may be older than the knights and princes we dreamt of, but he is at least human. It is not as if I am the princess who must love a frog, or Snow White and Rose Red who must befriend a bear, or any number of young girls from the tales who must grow to love terrifying beasts. Bluebeard is only a man. A man with the power and wealth to make our family secure.

And what must it be like to be the lady of a fine estate like he must own? To ride a fast horse and see so much more of the Westenfall. To never again worry about not having enough milk from the goats for Frau Frida to turn to cheese, or wheat to last through the winter. I could, perhaps, make my secret dream real. Only Liesl, Klaus, and Silvia know of it—that I long to write books. Silvia has assured me that some women do write, sometimes using the names of men. How pleasant it would be to live the life of a noblewoman, with the time and funds to write as many books as I pleased . . .

Our brothers all think him a fine match and have encouraged both of us to accept his offer, should he make one. Heller, who has always cared about gold and wealth more than the rest of us, told us to accept right after Bluebeard first spoke with Father. "It will be a great disservice to the status of our family if neither of you accept him," he said then. "He could set me up as a merchant, and you know what that would mean to me."

The others took a little more persuading, but yesterday even Klaus told us he believes we would be happy if we accept. Gerard declared Bluebeard the finest huntsman he had ever seen and urged us to imagine the stables and wondrous horses they must house. Warner told us to think of the castle library and how many books it must hold, and Ritter reminded us of the paintings and brilliant architecture we'd see—really, that we'd own.

Father has been quiet, contemplative, during the festivities. I finally found the courage to approach him today. If it would make him proud for one of us to accept, perhaps that was all the further persuasion I needed.

As the musicians were on a break so they could partake of the feast, there was a lull in the excitement, and I asked Father about his wishes.

"He seems a kind man," he said eventually. "And he can provide for one of you better than I ever could."

His half-smile and the sadness in his eyes made my heart twist. I sat beside him on the bench as the feasting and merriment continued around us. The musicians began to play again, and the townspeople pulled their partners out to dance near the great bonfire in the square. I spotted the butcher's boy sitting at the edge of the fire's glow. Like everyone else, he was pretending not to watch Liesl as she moved among the crowd, though his gaze held more longing and envy than most.

I turned back to my father and placed my hand on his. "I do not wish for grand furnishings and fine horses. I'm happy here. And I think my heart would break if I left home."

We both looked at Liesl, who was now dancing with Bluebeard, a ribbon trailing from each of their hands. A small smile played on her features, but I knew it was not her real one. I thought that my heart would also break for Liesl to marry and leave me behind. But that must happen eventually, and if she could marry a nobleman, become someone important, how could I stop her?

"If that is how you feel, Anne, then let your sister marry him."

Someone passed us with a platter of meat pies, and their aroma, mixed with the smoke of the bonfire, made my mouth water. I nodded slowly. "Have you spoken to her? Does she want this?"

"I have tried. You know your sister—she keeps things close. I believe she could be happy with him. Perhaps you could talk to her tonight."

"Yes," I promised. "I will find out how she feels."

So now I'm tucked up in our bed, waiting for her to come in so I can ask her. She has been acting the part, almost, of the hostess to all of Bluebeard's village events, and she is so natural. Perhaps she really is ready to become his wife and the lady of his castle. I know now that I am not.

***

Liesl came to bed, smiling and glowing, and said she wanted to tell me a story. She has not told me a bedtime story for a few years, so I think perhaps she meant it as a goodbye, since we will be separated if either of us accept Bluebeard's offer.

Both of us have always loved fairy stories, though for different reasons. She loves voicing the characters, sometimes acting out whole skits for me and our brothers. How she used to make us laugh! I, on the other hand, always loved embellishing the stories, adding my own details or changing the endings.

She chose Bearskin, an old tale.

In it, a young man is approached by a mysterious figure—who our wise young hero discerns to be the devil himself—and is offered riches and good fortune if he will go seven years without bathing or cutting his hair, beard, or nails. He's given a bearskin and a magic coat to wear. He gives his wealth to the poor, asking them to pray that he will live out the full seven years, and many years after, to enjoy his good fortune. After the first year, as you can imagine, he looked rather like a bear himself.

"One day, four years into his curse, he met a weeping man in the woods," Liesl said. "The man wept because he'd lost all his fortune, and his three daughters would starve. Bearskin gave him some of his wealth—he would never be short of it, for the pockets of the coat the devil had given him were always full—and in gratitude, the man offered to allow Bearskin to meet his daughters. He would give one of them to Bearskin as a wife, to thank him for his kindness."

I couldn't imagine our father handing either of us to a stranger so easily, even if he were greatly in that stranger's debt. His reaction to Bluebeard's sudden offer proved he would never do such a thing.

"The daughters, when they met Bearskin, were frightened of him. The eldest two refused to marry him, but the youngest and best sister"—here Liesl nudged me—"felt that he must be a kind man to have helped their father, and that her father's promise must be kept. She agreed to marry Bearskin."

I shivered. Though I knew how the story ended, I still disliked thinking of the poor girl agreeing to marry a man who might as well have been a beast. It was then I began to see why Liesl had chosen this story. Bluebeard may be frightening, but he's neither a bear nor a man who has not bathed in years.

Liesl continued, the familiar cadence of her voice wrapping me in comfort and making my chest ache when I thought of her leaving me. "Bearskin gave the youngest sister half of a ring and kept the other half himself. He promised to return to her in three years, when his curse was lifted. He went through the world, doing good where he could, while the sister stayed behind. She was teased mercilessly about her bridegroom by her other sisters, but she said nothing, resigned to her fate. Every day, she prayed for Bearskin's health.

"At dawn on the seven-year anniversary of his curse, Bearskin went into the woods and again met the devil, who cleaned him up, took back the bearskin, and gave him better clothing. The man was quite handsome now, far more so than he had been before. A life full of good fortune, wealth, and a beautiful wife lay ahead of him."

Liesl began unpinning her hair from its updo and untangling her braids as she spoke. "When he returned to the house of his betrothed, the family did not recognize him. The two eldest sisters tried to charm him, but he ignored them and pulled the youngest sister into his arms. After showing his half of the ring, he declared himself to be her betrothed and kissed her. She wept with happiness, and they were married that day."

When I was young, I couldn't bear to hear the last part of the story and needed it to end with the young couple's happiness. I wondered if Liesl would omit it, since this story seemed her parting gift to me. But she took a deep breath and continued.

"The sisters, upon hearing that the handsome young man was Bearskin, and that he and his wealth and good fortune could have been theirs, flew into a rage. One hanged herself from a tree, and the other threw herself into a well and drowned. The next day, the devil called upon the young man once more. 'You see,' he said, grinning with wickedness. 'Now I have two souls for the one of yours.'"

Those words, spoken in Liesl's voice in the darkness dozens of times before, should not affect me anymore, but a great chill ran through me.

Liesl took my hands in hers then. "Anne," she said. "I am thinking of accepting Bluebeard. But I cannot do to you what Bearskin's bride did to her sisters." She shuddered and closed her eyes.

"Is this what has worried you, Liesl? I do not care for him as you do. Worry not." I tried to keep the relief from my voice.

She let go of my hands and looked toward the ladder to our loft, as if to be sure our father and brothers still slept below. "You will think me terrible, but I do not care for him either. Not in that way."

"I could never think you terrible." Her posture relaxed, but she still would not look at me, so I asked quietly, "But if you do not feel anything for him, why are you going to accept?"

She sighed as if I'd said something rather childish. "How many other suitors are lining up for my hand? This is the wealthiest man we are ever likely to meet. And he is taken with us."

"But if you don't love him—"

Liesl finally met my gaze then, and there was steel in her eyes that I had never seen before. "I will learn to love him. Like the bride in the story. There are many stories like that, are there not?" she asked. "Even if I do not, our family will be taken care of for the rest of our lives. That is enough for me."

My stomach turned at the thought of Liesl being taken from me, swept off to his castle to live out her days in lonely comfort. My voice was small and unsure when I said, "But we'll be apart."

She smiled then. It was the first genuine one I'd seen her wear today. The others were for show, but this one was real. For me. "That is the best part. We don't have to be. I've spoken to Bluebeard today, and he has agreed that, when I marry him, you will come to live with us."

At first, I was delighted. I thought of the sumptuous dinners, the gowns I would wear, dancing to sweeping music at glorious balls. To have a garden in which to stroll—one whose purpose is beauty for the eyes and not food for the belly. It was as if we were living in one of our favorite tales, and Bluebeard would make all our dreams come true, just as the prince did for Cinderella.

"You will come, will you not?" The dreamy look on my face made her smile, and she threw her arms around me when I nodded my assent.

I was grateful she couldn't see my face as we embraced, because it was then I began to doubt. Even now, I worry. Bluebeard is no ordinary man, and not just because of his castle and riches. The others in the village sense it too. He pulls everyone's eyes, but no one draws too near, as if afraid to be in his shadow. And what of the rumors of his haunted castle? The tales of his wife, run away into the night, who perhaps met with some terrible fate?

Is Liesl as frightened of him as I am? Or is she strong enough to withstand it? Perhaps she is like Bearskin's bride—able to see what others cannot. If she is brave, I can be, too.

"Yes," I said as I hugged her tighter. "You will be a beautiful bride. I'm so glad I won't have to be without you."

She pulled away. "It's settled then. I'll tell Father." She climbed down the ladder to the first floor, where our father and three of our brothers slept.

When she left, I pulled out my journal so I could write this. I now feel both fear and excitement for what awaits us at Bluebeard's castle. I'll be able to fill these pages with everything new and wonderful we'll see, but there is also some guilt that Liesl is so much braver than I. Perhaps it will appease my conscience if I vow to do everything I can to make her happy and keep us both safe in a strange new place.

It is an easy vow to make, after all.