I got to go to my first Ren Faire in college, and it was such a fun experience seeing the acrobats, the amazing costumes of other guests and of course, the funnel cake. I wanted to give the same experience to Kitty, so onward to Camelot.

She turned to her left as most of the people headed straight-ahead where a cluster of strategically placed shacks with wooden signs heralding wares like “Seams Like a Dream,” “Here Be Dragons,” and “Pirate’s Delights.” 

Farther ahead was a cloudy backdrop tied to the trees akin to one of those mall photo-shoot displays. On the ground was a wooden board with a circus-like design and benches where several tourists, mainly consisting of families, happily clapped and a baby cried. 

Kitty ducked past the tall couple blocking her view and gasped at the sight. A brunette man and woman dressed in yellow leotards were in the middle of a route. The man was in a full split on the wooden circus-colored boards while the woman balanced on the palm of his outstretched arm, twisting her foot behind her head like a pretzel.

            She thumped to the closest bench next to a man dressed like a fife-player, anachronistic phone in hand and saw the sign painted near the top of the backdrop-The Accidental Acrobats, and was greeted by the sight of a woman in yellow and orange leotard in a handstand. Not any handstand, she had a bow at her left foot which she gripped with her toes, and then gave her the arrow that she grasped with her right toes. 

The crowd’s breath held still for the moment when she angled her arrow correctly against the bow, intently staring down the bullseye set up five feet across from her and the arrow flew smack in the center. The woman flipped back to her feet and bowed. The man stepped up next to her for his bows, “Thanks for coming to our show! Feel free to come again in the next half hour and follow Bumble and I on our social media account, and website, The Accidental Acrobats. Enjoy the rest of King Richard’s Faire.” 

Kitty was torn between moving forward to do a clockwork circle around the area but as she looked back at the shops, the area looked more clear and her bag jingled with money. Not really, but she could imagine the sound of coins. 

Window shopping had won out. She headed into “Seams Like a Dream” first, confirming her suspicion that she wouldn’t be able to afford the 20 pound ($24) rental price and still be able to buy lunch later. 

That was okay, she had her sketchpad. Furtively looking around the small room crowded with hangers of clothes, she saw the owner was busy assisting a girl with lacing up her corset and began to sketch. She may not be able to afford the outfit, but she could sketch it and possibly find a cheaper one online. The outfit in question looked like another peasant girl outfit at a glance, but Kitty thought the scoop neck would flatter her B-cups and admired the gothic brocade pattern that decorated the skirt. 

“Good morrow, my good mistress. Anything strikes your fancy?” A cozy voice asked over her shoulder. 

Caught, Kitty clutched the sketchpad to her chest, relieved she managed to get the design finished, “Um, hi, uh I-mean good morrow. May I try thee-thy outfit?” 

“Step fast into this privacy chamber,” The plump woman briskly picked up the dress she had been drawing and swept Kitty to the dressing room she had missed behind a table of jewelry. 

The dress slipped on easily in its smooth fabric of silk but dragged on the ground. When Kitty stepped out, the woman smiled and said, “It’s an easy fix, dear.” 

Grabbing a gold-braided belt, she firmly bunched up the fabric around her waist to lift it from the ground and wrapped the belt around, nearly squeezing the air out of her before grabbily pushing her to the standing mirror. The belt improved the hem greatly and Kitty groaned to see how nicely the dress accentuated her figure. Briefly, she entertained a fantasy where she was making her grand entrance on Broadway stage as Queen Guenivere, and Lancelot opposite her was Fredrick. 

I could skip lunch one day.

She shook the thought away. Even if she did skip lunch, she could imagine the reaction of her family if she brought the dress home. Mom would adore it, but everyone else would ask her what the point was to spend money on a rental dress. 

“Sorry, I can’t,” Kitty cringed, she hated having to talk to shop owners directly when she already tried an outfit. She knew it wasn’t a big deal but it always felt like she was personally rejecting them somehow. 

“It’s okay. Perhaps there is something else? I have a variety of things,” she waved airly to the jewelry display, “A cape is a classic fashion statement.”

She had doubts about that but nodded and changed back in the dressing room. Then she went to the jewelry table because she had to buy something after the woman went to the trouble of letting her wear the dress. 

The necklaces were only slightly less expensive than the dresses, at least the ones that Kitty would have preferred with its flashy costume rubies and diamonds. There was a particularly enticing brooch that had a swirling blue-purple gem that looked magical. She settled on the earrings which were the cheapest at $9.67. They were silver which explained the low cost, but the designs were beautifully detailed. She toyed with a butterfly pair and then saw a pair of hummingbirds painted a bright red and green. She loved butterflies when she was little while Lydia had liked the faster-paced hummingbirds. Either way, they had spent hours running around the garden trying to catch them, thinking they were fairies in disguise. 

She had told herself she wasn’t going to think about Lydia, but remembering those carefree days made her heart soften. She’d mail them to her as a little present, and maybe it’d remind Lydia too. 

“Can I buy one of each, instead of a pair?” Kitty asked, holding up the hummingbird and the butterfly earrings. 

The store-owner hemmed and considered before acquiescing with a bright smile and wrapping up the earrings with a sparkly silver paper into a small leather bag, “Granmercy and good morrow!” 

Kitty wandered through the other shops though she found nothing else worth compromising her money for lunch. The Remembrance Shoppe turned out to be a typical souvenir gift shop with hoodies, mugs, toy swords and other kitsch. That’s when she spotted a small wooden map posted to the doorway. 

Apparently, she was in York Way by the Faire entrance but there were nine other shopping clusters! She scanned the shop names thankful that they were direct what wares they sold. The “Silver Leaf Leather Accessories” in Beggar’s Boulevard held potential. With that name, the prices had to be cheap. Maybe she would get a cape. 

Slipping the phone she had in her right pocket, she took a picture of the map and navigated her way to the back of the faire past the Accidental Acrobats up to their tricks again and the mouth-watering smells of fried dough from Dragon’s Tavern to Beggar’s Boulevard that operated stalls instead of small wooden houses, presumably due to poverty.

The Silver Leaf Leather Accessories managed to get silver paint on their stand’s table. On the table and the picnic cloth in front of it was an eclectic assortment of fans, linen bags, leather vests, eyepatches, gloves, and yes, a cape! 

The owner smiled toothily, contrasting with his tattered grey clothes, “Good morrow. Please help out an old sod.” 

Kitty giddily obliged, picking up a perfectly clean teal cape with a Celtic design around the hood that looked like it had been thrown lackadaisical over the table. Teal went well with anything, and it would perk up an outfit in Kitty’s opinion. She could pair it with her daisy dukes and halter top in quirky chic.

“How much?” 

“One shilling,” the man held out his hand expectedly and Kitty handed him her credit card. Looking over the card with wordless curiosity, he was easily able to use it through the very modern square chip. 

“Granmercy, good woman. Thee has made my day. I may be able to get some ale tonight.” 

“Ah, The Lord above made liquor for temptation, but with a little bit of luck, with a little bit of luck when temptation comes you’ll give right in,” Kitty sang with a wink at the man who loudly chuckled. 

“That’s the right of it!” 

“Kitty?” 

Kitty turned around to see the beaming face of Jaimie. Dressed in a green plaid shirt and jeans, he looked more lumberjack than Ren Faire, holding a leather jerkin. 

“Ah-hem!” The stall-owner coughed. 

Jaimie sheepishly returned to the stall owner, and handed him his credit card before returning to Kitty’s side. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked, “I thought you went with the others a few days ago.”  

“Yeah, Catalina and Henry wanted to come here first as a private date,” James said. 

“So, you’re chaperoning?” Wow, Kitty had thought only her parents were old-fashioned enough to order chaperones.

“Try their chauffeur,” Jaimie snorted, “They’re a lovely couple, but horrible drivers. Catherinae’s banned after she drove into our mailbox, and Henry’s been forbidden from the Porsche for some McDonalds incident that he won’t explain.” 

“That’s the car Frederick has,” she almost commented before remembering she shouldn’t have any knowledge of what car Frederick Tilney drove. It did make her wonder if maybe his gripes that his half-siblings were his father’s favorites was overblown if Mr. Tilney gifted them the same car. Unless he was one of those rich parents who thought throwing money at their kids-

“Kitty? I asked why are you here?” Jaimie questioned. Kitty blinked before she realized he must be wondering why she was here, when she had declined the previous time.

“Yes, um, yes,” she cleared her throat, “It sounded so fine, I decided to move my schedule around and make time, and here I am.” 

Jaimie seemed to take the excuse at face-value, “I don’t know if you looked around much or if you wanna keep shopping. But I was gonna go to the mud show. If-you know, if you want to join me?” 

A mud show didn’t sound particularly appealing, but Kitty had been wanting some company. Besides, Jaimie was funny and sweet based on their quick conversations at Perky’s and getting to do improv together. Now, they could talk without Mr. Price breathing down her neck or him going to work. 

“Sure,” Kitty slipped her arm into the one Jaimie offered and he guided them to the edge of the fence where a small stage was erected. 

Two shirtless, barrel-chested men in breeches were yelling out in cockney accents for people to gather round to see him put a face in the mud. Picking up a clump of mud from the ground, one of the men talked out loud as he made two eyes, a nose and a mouth in the palm of his hand instead of throwing it at his partner who was sitting expectantly in the middle of the stage. 

Jaimie whispered, “Do you think it’s real mud, or really bad-looking brownie mix?” 

“It smells real enough,” Kitty wrinkled her nose, reflexively covering her mouth when the man shoved a fifth serving of mud down his throat and spat over the side of the stage before showing off his grimy teeth. 

“You know, you don’t get this kind of quality from Netflix,” Jaimie sighed. 

“It’s a shame what education and capitalism has done to the live entertainment industry,” Kitty added, “But oddly enough, it’s making me hungry.” 

“Come on, I think the food is over there,” Jaimie pointed to the direction they had come from, cutting diagonally through the trees where there were several contests like ax throwing and kiddie rides of spinning cups, unicorn carousel and dragon roller-coaster. 

They stopped to admire three acrobats twisting through aerial silks in the trees while a belly-dancer mesmerized a good portion of people below. Including Jaimie who Kitty had to push forward when her stomach growled impatiently. 

There they reached several shacks with a sign proclaiming Canterbury Kitchens, arranged in a circle, mixing smells of pretzels, cinnamon buns, and other gooey, artery-clogging deliciousness. She was glad she hadn’t spent her money on clothes, she nearly moaned when the full force of the greasy delicious scent hit her nose. 

Jaimie kept his head though as he took off his jerkin to claim one of the rapidly taken tables. Kitty put her bag down too, covering it with her new cape. She circled around the shops once, finding it hard to decide between her sweet tooth and the savory stuff. With the long lines, she knew she wouldn’t have time to get both. 

She went for the Dragon Claws and fryes knowing she wouldn’t be able to have an opportunity to get it at home and waited 20 minutes for them. The continuous buzz of conversation and piercing wail of a disappointed child took a turn from fun Ren Faire experience to a nuisance as her heart pounded from a hunger-migraine. By the time she got her greasy plastic box of Dragon claws, buffalo-sauced chicken legs, she tore into it with ravenous hunger. Taking shuffling steps so she could walk and eat simultaneously. 

When she got to the table, Jaimie was munching on a fist-sized turkey leg, bones already piled on his plate. 

“This is the best,” Jaimie wiped the side of mouth with his wrist, grease dripping down his wrist. Kitty nodded companionably in agreement, taking a moment to breath after satisfying the pangs of starvation. 

Jaimie finished eating before her so he offered to get Queen’s Cup o’ Sodas and returned with the drinks plus hot apple crisp for dessert. 

“You didn’t have to,” Kitty said politely, already reaching for the plastic fork he offered to spear the apple slice sliding off its crust. 

“I had to, these are delicious,” Jaimie slurped his drink before cutting off a chunk of apple crisp for himself. Kitty was about to offer to pay him back a little but calculated that after spending the $26 on lunch, she had used up her spending money for the week. She’d have to pay him back at the next rehearsal. 

“How does this Ren Faire experience fare to all the others?” Jaimie contentedly leaned back on his chair, much like the first time she met him. 

“What do you mean? Other fairs? I wouldn’t know. This is the first time I’ve been,” Kitty said, trying to wipe her fingers on the napkins that had come in her box that weren’t covered in buffalo sauce. 

“Really? I thought since you were with all the other drama kids, all the cosplaying and acting stuff like this was your thing.” 

“I’m kinda new to the drama scene,” Kitty admitted, “Chicago was my first time auditioning. This is my first time at a Ren Faire. Before, I just hung out with my sister.” 

Which was why she was known as Lydia Bennet’s sister. Lydia was known as the life of the party. Even college students at Pemberley knew her because she wrangled invites to college parties back in high school. Lydia’s college hook-ups vouched for them in clubs, took them on joyrides and had apartments all to themselves. Kitty’s social life had been a routine of finding the best make-up tricks to appear older, and sneaking out the window to go clubbing. That was when they weren’t being invited to parties hosted by the most popular kids at school which she and Lydia had to make an appearance to cement their standing in the high school hierarchy. This she had continued to do when she was a freshman at Pemberley Community College, leaving little time to make other friends. 

“Right, why does she sound familiar?” 

Kitty tried to squelch a frown that Jaimie had already heard of her. 

“She’s on Youtube. LydiaBennet. Unless she’s back with Wickham then it’s LydiaWicki.” 

Jaimie nodded with recognition, “Ohhh! Yeah, I definitely heard of her. My ex would put her on whenever we had a long drive. Wouldn’t have guessed you were related. You don’t look alike. And she didn’t mention having much of her family.” 

She knew. Kitty tried to hide a grimace. Like a good sister, she had faithfully watched Lydia’s vlogs while she got ready in the morning, and she had also noticed when Lydia discussed her “Top Five Embarrassing Moments” or “My Magical Prom Experience,” she never mentioned her. Even though Kitty had been there for all of it!

She must not have been hiding her feelings well because he quickly moved on to another topic, “I thought this would be corny, like those historical town re-enactments, but this is fun, it’s like a festival. When I came in, I saw one guy dressed up like the Black Knight and we did this whole skit like in the movie. “Tis, but a scratch.” “A scratch? Your arm’s off.” “No, it isn’t.”

“Um. . what?” 

“Tis, but a scratch? King Arthur slashes off the Black Knights arms and leg till he’s a stump but he still wants to fight him. You know, Monty Python and the Holy Grail?” 

Kitty shrugged and took another gulp of water, “Never seen it.” 

“Come on! You’ve never seen one of the funniest movies of all time? Not even for this. I got all my Ren Faire puns from it.” 

“Eh, I’m more into TCM. I did prepare by watching Camelot though.” 

“While I question your taste in movies, you’re really into the acting thing, aren’t you?” Jaimie said seriously.

“It’s like a total cliche, I know. But I’m not interested in anything else. Well, I do like fashion, but I think I have more of a chance with acting. You know, read someone else’s words, not make my own. What about you? Clearly you don’t know any musicals so how did you get roped in?” Kitty teased. 

“Hey, I’ve seen a musicals. The Greatest Showman, that counts, and High School Musical.” 

“Yes, it does,” Kitty laughed, though she knew Julia and Frank would probably deride it as a basic movie musical, incomparable to live theater productions without autotune. 

“So, you’re trying to be Zac Efron?” 

“No. Cat begged me to do it. She’s all like “Remember when we made up stories when we were kids, and you did all the different voices, and stuff” And she “worried about my social life.” Jaimie put in air-quotes. 

“Aww, that’s sweet.” 

“I think it’s because I was going to drive her home from writer’s society anyway and she thought I’d complain less if I was in the musical too.” Jaimie said. 

“That does sound like little sister behavior. Back in middle school, I knew Lizzy, one of my older sisters, would complain if I asked her to drive me and Lydia to the mall to shop. So, I found out they had a Kumon center for math tutoring, told Dad, and then hitched a ride to the mall every time she had to get tutored.” 

“Don’t share your secrets with Catalina, that’s all I ask,” Jaimie chuckled, “Let me get this straight though. There’s Lydia who’s younger than you, and Elizabeth who is one of your older sisters, how many do you have?” 

“I’m the fourth child of five, all girls,” Kitty said, smiling as Jaimie shared the wide-eyed surprise that predictably greeted that fact.

A cocky smile quickly replaced that look, “I can beat that. I’ve had ten siblings.” 

“What?! But I thought you had only one-in your house?” Kitty sputtered. 

“Cat, and I used to live in a foster home. We’d go around to different families, some were nice even though it wasn’t permanent, and we still stayed in touch with those foster siblings.” 

“Oh, um. . . when were you adopted?” Kitty asked awkwardly, hoping she was wording it correctly, but Jaimie seemed unphased. 

“I was thirteen, Catalina was eleven. Our Dads were like the sixth home we went to, and the way he tells it is that he knew the moment we entered the home that we were going to be his children. The way our Father says that it took a year before they committed to the idea that they were ready for kids, and that we were those kids. But they took us in, and five years later, they adopted us officially.” 

“Wow, that’s . . . that’s great, and so nice you almost always had your Dads with you,” Kitty hesitated, weighing whether she should ask but forging ahead since the pause was growing too long, “Do you remember your birth parents.” 

Jaimie didn’t look perturbed by the question. Rather he was placid like he was used to fielding these questions all the time. He probably was considering how he nonchalantly dropped the fact that he was a foster kid, “I was five when Mom left us, and Cat was three, so not really. Sometimes I think I remember but who knows? I might be making her up in my head.”

 “Yeah, well. . . living with so any different families. And I thought sharing a bathroom with four sisters was bad enough. You know, I learned not to argue with Mary because she’ll wake up at five in the morning and use up all the hot water out of spite,” Kitty rolled her eyes.

“Hmm, now you’re giving me ideas. Keep ‘em coming,” Jaimie grinned. 

“No. No more,” Kitty mimed zipping her lips, “Little sister solidarity. I’m not going to help you.” 

“What? And after I paid for dessert?” Jaimie mock-whined.

“Dessert was a gift. I don’t have to pay it back,” Kitty answered loftily. She got up from her chair, shaking the crumbs from her lap, and peeked at her phone in her bag. It was already 2:00. One more hour before she had to get to the bus.

“Now, come on. There’s more faire to see,” Kitty held out her hand. 

They went in the opposite direction, “oohed” at a fire-swallower and stopping at Kitty’s insistence to see the Big Cat show where an animal trainer brought out a lynx and other wild cats who didn’t perform tricks unlike the performing dog parade of poodles and terriers who bounced on balls and flipped through hoops. 

They were applauding the end of Jacques Ze Whipper’s cracking show where he performed Rihanna’s “Umbrella” with flaming whips until he was doused by a stage-hand when Jaimie tugged her arm insistently. 

“It’s the Washing Well Wenches, they’re hilarious. You have to see,” he said, pulling her to another stage across from Jacques Ze Whipper’s act, shaded by strings of hanging laundry. Moving up to the front row of the wooden benches, they waited several minutes as two women with blackened teeth, painted freckles and mismatched clothes mimed chores until the seats were full. 

The first woman who looked up, raven-haired, pulled up in a hairstyle that a toddler might have done for her, “Buttercup, look at all the people who’ve come!” 

Her blonde, buck-toothed friend replied, “Who’da thought Sprout, that we have so many underwear lovers.” 

“Who can blame ‘em when we have such sexy underwear!” Buttercup hooted, pulling up her skirt to show off ruffle white pantaloons. 

The two women began to walk among the crowd, skipping and interacting with people. Mainly by stealing a sip from the unsuspecting person’s cup. Much like those at the Mud Show, the crowd was happy to play along with the ‘anything goes’ attitude of the wenches who began calling up for the biggest, strongest men from the audience to come help with their laundry. Ridiculously over-the-top in their horny innuendo. 

A father gamely stepped up to the stage, handing the baby carrier to his wife. 

“You get to stand with us in the position of honor. The wet spot,” Buttercup cheered, “Oh, your wife looks real proud. Look at her whip out that camera.” 

“Someone likes to watch,” Sprout sing-songed. 

“I know, for serious, we don’t know this man. But in the romantic tradition of courtly love, that means we get to touch this man all we want,” Buttercup said, grabbing the man’s sleeve by the teeth and growling like an excited puppy. Sprout twerked against him while the man posed in various muscle-man stances to the delight of the audience and his wife’s flashing camera. By the time Sprout and Buttercup got the man to admit with his Southern twang that he was from South Carolina, there came a string of farmer boy innuendo that made Kitty’s stomach hurt from laughing so hard. 

After they left the stage to cheers from the audience, Sprout brought out a basket of roses. 

“We’re big real love suckers at heart, so we’ve got three flowers for three people. Our only condition is that he must be over 21 because we’re too pretty to go to prison. . . Again.” 

James immediately shot to his feet and Sprout took him to the front of a stage with a guy that looked surprisingly similar to Chadwick Boseman and a curly-haired girl, playing loose with the tres hombres rule. 

“Alright, before you get your flowers, you have to do something for us. The first rule of the wench show is “nothing’s free! If you want your flowers, you have to dance!” 

Buttercup kicked off a literal kick-line with the participants before Jaimie broke off from the line to show off a less-smooth rendition of Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. 

 “That was a good, good job. Now when we give you, your flower, we want you to run around the crowd, and get on top of that rock,” Buttercup pointed to a medium sized rock behind the pews, “Yell “I have the power!,” put your flower in your mouth and hand it to your lovey with a kiss.” 

While the red-head ran around to do her challenge, Kitty whispered to Jaimie from the front row. 

“You don’t have a lovey!” 

“Sorry, I got caught up in the moment. I wanted to be part of the show. . . Can I?” 

“Oh fine,” Kitty didn’t have it in her to be mad. It was all for fun and she got the appeal of wanting to be part of the wenches’ ribald antics. 

When the wenches got to Jaimie, his challenge was to help mend Sprout’s broken self-esteem and reputation by chasing her around, saying “Sprout, I love you. Sprout, I need you. Sprout I got to uh-uh-uh-uh! You know, be creative with it.” 

“I mean it might ruin your reputation, but sweet biscuit, it’ll make my day, hehehe,” Sprout wiggled her tongue. 

Kitty got out her camera. She had planned to go through this almost tech-free, but she had a feeling this would provide entertainment for months to come.

“Sprout, I need to be by your side! And under! And on top!” 

Kitty haphazardly balanced on her chair, trying to get a good shot as they raced around the small crowd before returning to stage again. 

“Oh, you’re such a loud and passionate lover,” Sprout hugged him, “Any chance I could steal you away?” 

“Aw, Sprout, you see the fear in his eyes. You got to let him go. I’m serious, let him go!” Buttercup tugged her friend off of James and she fell backwards into the well. 

            Everyone roared with laughter but Buttercup briskly brushed out James’ clothes and handed him a rose as if nothing happened. 

            “Alright, go kiss your love.” 

            Jaimie hesitantly approached, mumbling with the stem in his mouth, “Wanna give them a show?” 

The rest of the crowd was staring when Sprout and Buttercup started up a chant of “Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!” 

Do they kiss? Well, you’ll have to find out if the book ever gets published. Hope you enjoyed this little excerpt.