“They put up quite a fight at first, but I must be pretty convincing when I threaten because they have been quite compliant.” I became serious and turned my gaze to the hypnotic flames of the fire. “I just couldn’t do it all myself. I couldn’t keep up with all of the chores and take care of their sick mother.” I paused and glanced quickly over my shoulder once more. “I always knew they were heartless and cruel, but to see their lack of concern over Victoria’s obviously deteriorating health is beyond my comprehension.”
“Of course it is,” Will said matter-of-factly as he put some more wood on the fire. “You don’t know how to not care for people, so when you see that level of callousness, you can’t understand it.” He brushed off his hands and stood up, placing a hand on the mantle and staring at the flames. “You’re so kind, Ella, that you can’t comprehend unkindness.”
I was surprised by this insight he had, as if he had already noticed this about me and it was just blatantly obvious. I remembered seeing Father that way and thinking that his incomprehension of coldness and cruelty must be the reason he married Victoria. He was all heart, and if he had seen any hints of her heartlessness, he wouldn’t have believed it. I could at least see it, but it didn’t make it any easier to grasp or endure.
I blinked and looked away from the heat that was burning my eyes. “You’re kind too, Will. How can you stand it?”
“Because I’ve been out in the world more than you have. Maybe not very much more, but I’ve seen people do terrible things and say terrible things.” He looked down at me. “But I’ve never seen or heard anyone more terrible than Victoria. She is vicious. The way she treats you puts every other mean person I have ever met to shame. And yet, you tolerate it day after day. I understand why you do it. I know you promised to take care of them. But that doesn’t make it any easier for me to believe …” He turned back to face the fire and whispered, “… or bear.”
I didn’t know what to say. Will had rarely brought up the subject since I had told him about my promise years before and I was surprised by how troubled he was by it. I never thought about it anymore. It was pointless. I had already chosen.
Will changed the subject after a thoughtful silence. “Did you know I’m going be at the ball?” He smiled up at me, all hints of his previous melancholy erased.
“Really? Oh, I just knew you had a secret desire to live a life of luxury. You just couldn’t stand to stay away,” I joked.
“No, thank you. No life of snobby extravagance for me. The prince has asked all the servants to help on the night of the ball. The groomsmen will tend to all the horses while the guests arrive, and then we’ll be allowed”—he rolled his eyes—“to enter the palace and serve all the fancy people.” Will grimaced. “I have to walk around with a glass tray and serve the guests drinks and food. They’ve been training us unrefined stable workers how to properly balance a tray on our hands. It’s beyond insulting. I have to wear a ridiculous suit and everything.”
“Ridiculous? Impossible. You’ll look so handsome!”
Will smiled. “Does that mean you’ll be there to see me looking so handsome?”
I thought of my dress and gown hidden away under the floorboards in my tower. How would I possibly wear them without Victoria knowing? But if I didn’t wear them now, when would I ever get to? A part of me desperately wanted to go, but another part of me couldn’t even imagine it.
“You really should come. With me looking so handsome and everything, who knows what could happen? There will be an alarming number of single ladies there, you know.” He chuckled softly to himself and held his hands up to the fire to warm them again.
I laughed with him, soaking in the warmth of the fire. “I feel like I’m always saying this to you, but thank you. You’re the kindest friend I’ve ever had … the kindest friend anyone has ever had.”
Will looked down at me, a soft expression in his eyes. He started to smile when a shadow crossed over his face. Then swiftly, for the first time ever, he wrapped his arms around me and held me close to him. He held me tightly. It was as if he were trying to show me I wasn’t alone but couldn’t say it with words. I felt a spark of something inside me. It felt like an emotion a living person might feel, not just someone who was merely surviving.
This was different than when the doctor had held me. It was different but the same. I felt comforted and strengthened, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about the fluttering in my stomach and the flush in my cheek. I must be standing too close to the fire.
I pulled away and looked out the window, then at the fire, and then I looked down, obviously and awkwardly avoiding Will’s eyes. I felt embarrassed and confused by my sudden shyness so I tried to think of something to say. I could feel Will’s eyes on me, burning with unusual intensity, and he seemed to sense what I was going to say.
“I better get back to work,” we both said.
“Then it must be true,” he said with a smile.
Chapter 13
WHEN I RETURNED TO FEED VICTORIA HER MIDDAY MEAL, I came to an abrupt stop outside the door. Mabel and Cecelia were in Victoria’s room, which was astonishing, but what they were saying was even more so.
“The dress maker won’t let us take out any more credit,” Mabel was whining. “We begged and begged and he refused! If only we had bought ball gowns when we were in town instead of afternoon dresses, then we wouldn’t be in this mess!”
“It was your idea!” Cecelia shouted.
Victoria sighed angrily. “Well, then, you must find the gown and slippers. I can’t do everything around here!” she said hoarsely. “Tear the house apart!”
I knew they were searching for my things, but to hear the level of desperation in their voices and the way they spoke about things that were not theirs—and would never be theirs—filled me with anger that made me bold. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I entered the room and casually walked to the side of Victoria’s bed.
“Would you like your broth now?” I asked as if there was nothing strange about their conversation.
Mabel and Cecelia exchanged guilty looks and quickly left the room. I fed Victoria her broth as she glared at me.
***
ON THURSDAY MORNING, I WAS ASLEEP ON THE CHAIR NEXT to Victoria’s bed, my head resting on my folded arms on the mattress. I never would have felt comfortable being so close to her, letting my weary head share her bed. But it had become necessary for me to remain close to her should she need anything through the night—a cool cloth, water, a basin, a blanket.
I felt her looking at me and I raised my eyes to meet her emotionless face, which was lit dimly by what little light streamed in from her open door.
“Eggs” was all she said.
I was only in my nightgown, but I ran out to the henhouse and gathered two eggs and quickly threw Mary some kernels while I was out there. I was grateful that Mary had made up for Martha’s absence, at least for that day. I fried up the eggs and brought them to Victoria, who ate one of them and pushed the plate away.
Before she fell back to sleep, she again asked me where the gown and slippers were, I refused to answer, and she whipped my hands as she had all week. I left the room to get dressed and woke Mabel and Cecelia to look after their mother while I was away. They started to whine in their already whiny voices, but they didn’t refuse.
I dressed quickly, started a fire in the kitchen fireplace, and noticed the dust accumulating on the floors and the sewing that needed to be done. I wondered if I’d ever get back on top of things. I fixed a quick breakfast for Mabel and Cecelia and milked Lucy and washed and hung the laundry. I stripped the bed linens and washed and hung them out with the rest of the laundry. Victoria’s bed sheets were in desperate need of changing, but I was terrified of moving her.
I went out to the garden and harvested a few potatoes, carrots, and onions, and some more corn. I smiled as I remembered the poem Mrs. Gibb, our last remaining cook, had taught me. She told me to be generous in planting my seeds, saying, “One fo
r the woodchuck, one for the crow, one for the slug, and one to grow.” She taught me to plant when the oak leaves were the size of a squirrel’s ear, or when the hickory buds were as big as a crow’s bill. She had been right and I was forever grateful to her for teaching me to live off of our land, instead of needing to buy everything we ate with money we didn’t have.
Mrs. Gibb had stayed at Ashfield long after all the other servants had left. When I was twelve I had asked her how she stayed even though she was receiving no wages.
“The Lord provides for me, my darling, so I can help provide for you,” she said.
Mrs. Gibb died at Ashfield, serving our family until her last breath. I was thirteen. I still thought of her strong, yet withered hands every time I kneaded bread. I would always remember the way she smacked her wrinkled lips and smiled in satisfaction when she sampled the soup before it was to be served. I admired her absolute refusal to give up on a pan that had been scorched and watched her scrub the blackness out by the light of the fire until it looked brand new. It reminded me of how she would never give up on me—a little girl who was not born to work in the kitchen or tend the garden—but she taught and trained me tirelessly and it was not until I was as prepared as I could be that she was finally able to rest.
Today, as I worked, I couldn’t help thinking about the ball. One of my greatest fears about the ball was that it would be life changing. If I said that out loud to anyone who knew anything about my life, they would think I had lost my mind. But the thought wasn’t irrational to me. My life was not perfect, but it was mine, and I worried that going to the ball would make me less satisfied with this life. Could I really come home and work like a peasant after spending an evening feeling like a princess?
But then a thought entered my mind—a forbidden thought. What if I did go to the ball and the prince did notice me? What if he did want to marry me? Could I leave my home? Who would take care of it? Who would take care of Victoria, Cecelia, and Mabel? I was confused by how torn I felt. Then I chuckled to myself. I was sure I wouldn’t have to worry about any of that. If I were to go, it would simply be to experience a night of beauty and freedom, not to win over a prince.
As soon as I truly realized that I didn’t have to fight for anything or prove anything—that I could just go and enjoy myself—I could see how foolish I’d been. I could go to the ball. I could wear my beautiful things. I could come home and live the life I always had, keeping the memory of the ball with me. Of course I would go to the ball. The only thing stopping me was myself.
Happiness began to bubble up inside of me that felt like it had been there all week, just waiting for me to make this decision. The ball was tomorrow! I thought about how relieved I was that I didn’t have to worry about miraculously coming up with the money to buy a new gown to wear; or, more likely, to not be able to buy one at all and having to stay home for that reason. I smiled to myself, knowing that I have had a beautiful gown waiting for me for as long as I could remember.
Before I really knew what I was doing, I dropped my basket of vegetables and ran toward the house. I hadn’t really looked at my gown and slippers since the day the ball was announced and only briefly as I hurriedly hid them away from Victoria on Sunday, and I was excited to look at them in this new light—this new light of feeling worthy enough to go, to actually wear them. I ran through the kitchen and up the stairs. When I reached Victoria’s room, I listened for any sound. All was quiet in there, so I assumed she was sleeping. And even though I had asked them to look after Victoria, Mabel and Cecelia were arguing in Mabel’s room about what they were going to wear to the ball and what the other one could or could not borrow. I could hear the desperation in every word.
“The ball is tomorrow and I don’t even have a gown and we haven’t been able to find Ella’s!” Mabel whined.
“Jane said you could wear her pink gown and pearls!” Cecelia cried back.
“But I want a new dress!” Mabel sounded close to tears. “And I’m the oldest. If the prince marries anyone, it should be me. How is he going to notice me in some old dress?”
“You? Why would the prince want to marry you? I …”
I hurried past the door before they could hear me. I would only be gone for a few minutes and they were obviously busy. I had never looked at my things when they were home, but they had never been up to my tower that I knew of, and they didn’t know—or care—where I was anyway.
I flung open my door at the top of the stairs and warily looked behind me. When I was sure everyone was still downstairs, I closed the door and crouched down on the floor. I quickly and silently lifted the floorboards to look once more at my beautiful gown and exquisite slippers.
Unlike the last time I looked at my last and most valued possessions, I didn’t feel an overwhelming sense of unworthiness. I looked at the mud under my fingernails, the calluses on my palms, and the lines from my most recent whipping and I realized they were beautiful hands. These hands worked and sacrificed. They weren’t idle or frail. They were strong and they were beautiful in a way no one else could understand, in a way even I didn’t understand, but was beginning to appreciate. I no longer felt unworthy of my dress and shoes. I now saw that they were worthy of me.
I felt an overpowering happiness fill my soul. My hands ached to touch my dress and put on my shoes. I was ready to wear them and be able to see myself on the outside the way I now felt on the inside. I was afraid to lose this elating feeling of self-worth and confidence, but I would have to find a way to keep it without the help of pretty clothes, knowing that now was not the time to put them on. I clung to the feeling and told myself that I must not forget the clarity I felt at this moment.
Cold panic raced through my veins at the alarming sound of frantic footsteps pounding on the creaky stairs up to my tower. I hastily covered my dress with its protective paper. I quickly pushed two of the floorboards into place, but as I was sliding the last one in, the door flew open. I didn’t turn around to see who it was. I knelt on the ground for half a second, still as stone, deciding if I should secure the board, or turn around and risk my gown being seen. With trembling hands I secured the last board into place. I even grabbed a corner of my apron and pretended to scrub something off the floor, praying that I looked nonchalant.
I turned calmly around to see Cecelia standing in the doorway, purple and panting. I swiftly rose to my feet, ran over to her, and grabbed the tops of her arms. I instantly felt guilty for sneaking past Victoria’s silent room without checking on her. Victoria must be dead.
“Mother’s awake and I don’t know what to do!” Cecelia gasped, and she shook my hands off her.
I amazed myself by not rolling my eyes and instead told her it would be fine. She scrutinized my small room and then nodded, gulping in more air. She followed me down the stairs, hiccupping all the way. As we descended, I forced myself to be calm. Cecelia couldn’t have seen anything, I kept telling myself. Surely she hadn’t come up to my tower to see if the dress and slippers were up there. I refused to think the worst because … it was unthinkable. When we reached Victoria’s door, I wasn’t surprised when Cecelia returned to her room as quickly as she could before I could ask her to do something.
I knocked softly on the door. There was no answer, but I decided I better check on her. She was too ill to be left alone for long and Cecelia had said she was awake. I tried to quietly open the door, and winced as it creaked the whole way.
“Are you awake, Stepmother?” I whispered. I truly did want to know if Victoria was actually awake, but I certainly didn’t want to be the one to wake her.
“Not for long,” said Victoria’s weak voice.
I crossed the room to stand at the foot of her bed. Victoria was sitting up slightly, propped up against her pillows.
“You look better,” I observed. “Are you hungry?”
An uncomfortable silence followed, and I shifted my weight on my bare feet. The fear that had dissipated during the last few days when Victoria had been so il
l was returning. I almost felt ashamed of the courage and confidence I had felt at being free to run the house for the first time. Almost.
“How could I be better with you standing there? How could I be better with you anywhere near me?” Victoria’s thin lips were tense and her eyes flashed with hatred. Her arms trembled visibly as she pushed herself up off the pillows so she could be more upright. “I hate that you have deceived me and that my daughters have nothing to wear to the ball. I hate that I am going to die in this wretched house that I have hated every single day for the past ten years. I hate that it is you who has kept me alive. And I hate that I had to marry that fool who left me here with you.”
At the mention of my father and the way Victoria spoke about him, my breath whooshed out of my lungs. I clenched my teeth so hard if felt like they would shatter, and my hands balled into fists, my fingernails digging into the tender skin on my palms.
“How dare you!” I hissed through my teeth.
While there were times that I had chosen to stay silent rather than speak to Victoria, I had never spoken to her in anything less than the most respectful tone. She was still trembling with rage from her own outburst, but without looking away from me, she reached over to the table next to her bed and opened the drawer that I knew well.
“Come here, child.” The term was not one of endearment, but a reminder of my subservience—a reminder that Victoria was the master here. I forced my feet to move toward her. To my astonishment, Victoria slowly slid her emaciated legs out from under her quilts and placed her skeletal feet on the floor. She panted as she laboriously raised herself to her full height, a full five inches above mine.
“Hold out your hands,” she said coldly.
I lifted both my trembling hands and held my palms out. Victoria raised her frail arm, a vindictive smile across her dry, cracked lips. The stick came down with an ominous whirr through the air and as it came in contact with my sore, work-roughened hands, I caught it.
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