Ella: A Novel

by Jessilyn Stewart Peaslee

  I knew she was done as soon as I felt the last bit of weight fall and I had the strangest sensation that I was floating, even though my hands were clenching the seat of the chair. My head felt incredibly light and my neck and back were suddenly chilled. Unable to avoid looking at the mound of golden hair on the floor, I rose deliberately, hugged the woman gratefully after she placed the money in my trembling hand, and ran across the dirt road to bang on yet another door.

  When I placed the money in the groggy Mr. Sims’s hand, his eyes widened and he gladly retrieved my beloved dress and slippers and placed them in my eager arms. He turned around with an enormous yawn and shuffled back to bed in his night dress and bed cap, and I ran back home through the woods, my arms and heart full once more.

  I stumbled back through the kitchen door a couple of hours before dawn. I was too exhausted to climb the stairs up to my tower, so I placed my dress and slippers in the cellar. There was no reason my stepsisters would look for them, believing they were gone forever, and besides that, I was willing to fight for these things that were precious to me. There was a whisper of warmth left in the smoldering cinders and I lay my head on the hearth—and my feet in front of the cellar doors.

  Chapter 16

  THE KITCHEN WINDOW FACED WEST, SO I WOULDN’T HAVE the sun’s bright morning rays to wake me. Fortunately, I didn’t even need them. Once I collapsed on the hearth, I had slept deeply, my mind and heart finally at ease. I blinked in the predawn darkness after only a small amount of sleep, completely alert. I stretched and reached up to feel my chopped-off hair, refusing to be sad over it. To me, it was beautiful. I knew that Father would be proud of me. I had sacrificed something that others would see as pretty for something that was priceless.

  No, I was not sad in the least.

  In fact, I told myself, it would be easier to get things done, without constantly having to keep my long, thick hair out of my way. The challenge would be keeping the lack of it hidden from Victoria. I wrapped my shawl tightly around my head, stuffing what hair I had left inside and even adding some cloth, so the shawl would appear to be heavy with hair. And though I was covered in cinders and soot, I was already dressed, so I started immediately on my morning chores.

  Victoria, Mabel, and Cecelia were up earlier than usual that morning. My stepsisters glared at me with unmistakable superiority, though I refused to meet their eyes and give them the satisfaction. Victoria refused to eat in bed, no doubt trying to remind me that no matter how weak she was, she was stronger than me.

  As I stood in my corner, Victoria watched me out of the corner of her eye with a satisfied smile on her lips. I must have looked terrible after getting very little rest and sleeping on dirty stones, but I would let her assume that I was upset over not being able to go to the ball and also over losing my most prized possessions. In reality, I was more resolved than ever to go to the ball—even if I had to walk every step of the way.

  I spent the whole day preparing Victoria, Mabel, and Cecelia for the ball. I boiled water for their baths and washed them with the rosewater soap. The delicious scent wafted through the house. Then I dressed them in their magnificent, albeit ostentatious and revolting, gowns.

  Bathing and dressing Victoria was like bathing and dressing a corpse for burial. I tried to be gentle as I laced up Victoria’s stays and I saw that her corset was too big and had to be taken in, as well as her gown. It was a good thing they had started getting ready so early. I poked myself with the sharp needle a dozen times trying to sew as quickly as I could, the whole time knowing that the only reason I was in such a hurry was so that Victoria could be at the ball to make sure I wasn’t.

  Mabel and Cecelia did look stunning when I was done with them. Their hair was done in intricate braids all around their heads and their skin was radiant from all the scrubbing and buffing. I wasn’t even jealous of their hair that fell past their waists as I braided it. They could have all the hair they could grow and all the pretty dresses they could steal. I had my mother and father back in the form of my gown and slippers, and that was enough for me. And though Victoria could barely hold herself up and she could hardly catch her breath, she could at least pass for a living person when I had finished getting her ready.

  I tried to play my role of martyr as best I could. I sighed and sniffled every once in a while, and even tried to shed a tear or two. And even though I may have seemed like the victim in the situation, I felt like the heroine. I had actually taken a little bit of my own fate in my own hands, and it was an exhilarating, heady feeling.

  Finally, the time arrived for them to leave. They had arranged with their new best friend, Jane, to drive them to the ball. Our nonexistent driver was still too ill, apparently. Jane’s footman knocked on the door to announce her arrival and I answered it in my plain gray dress and dingy apron. I was out of breath and my cheeks were flushed from exertion, and though my hair was tucked tightly into my shawl, a few wild hairs had escaped. The more stunning Victoria, Mabel, and Cecelia became, the more haggard I looked. Jane looked out the window of her carriage and when she saw me her face fell in confusion and dismay.

  “Girls, listen to me,” Victoria said from behind me. I automatically turned around to listen, though I knew she was only talking to her daughters. “Make sure you are noticed tonight. Find the prince as soon as you can and make him fall in love with you.” She looked away from them to survey the house with disgust. “Then maybe we can get out of this place.”

  My stepsisters smirked as if what Victoria had suggested would even remotely be a challenge and they drifted past me out the door, bumping me out of the way. They strolled to the carriage, their flowing skirts held up to their knees to avoid the dust, and then climbed into the carriage door held open by Jane’s footman. For all the material their dresses had, it was quite a feat to show that much skin.

  I turned away from the door and rolled my eyes in embarrassment and annoyance. I composed my expression when I saw Victoria watching me from behind and I went to stand by the stairs as she scrutinized me. Victoria slowly turned away from me, hobbled toward the open doorway, and waved to the others who were waiting for her, indicating that she was on her way. As she turned back to face me, I saw her phony smile disappear from her lips and watched it be replaced by a wicked sneer.

  “I’ll be watching. I may have one foot in the coffin, but I can still make your life miserable, child. I don’t have to be alive to make you wish you were dead.” Victoria turned, a radiant smile appearing on her face as she stepped out into the dusk.

  Jane leaned out the open door of the carriage. “I hope you feel better, Ella! I’m sorry!” I caught a glimpse of Mabel and Cecelia, and they were shaking their heads slowly back and forth in mock melancholy.

  Apparently, I must be sick, or more interestingly, having some kind of fit of madness. I couldn’t determine if Jane was being sincere or not and decided I didn’t care as I listened to their giggling over the pounding of the hooves on the dirt road.

  Chapter 17

  THE MOMENT THE COACH DISAPPEARED AROUND THE BEND in the road, I dashed to the kitchen where I already had hot water waiting for my bath. Tonight, cold water just wouldn’t do. Between bathing, dressing, brushing, buttoning, and braiding the other girls, I had been surreptitiously preparing for when I would get myself ready for the ball. I was more willing than ever to risk any punishment Victoria could think up to enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime experience. What could Victoria do to me that would be worse than what I’d already lived through, anyway?

  I chose to make that a rhetorical question.

  The warm water felt heavenly, but there was no time for a long, luxurious bath. I washed my short hair, scrubbed my body with the delicious rosewater soap, and dried off. I quickly climbed down the ladder into the cellar, too excited to do anything slowly. My trembling fingers reached into the empty crate hidden under the ladder and pulled back the brown cloth.

  My clean hands gently lifted my shimmering pale-blue gown, which had become
even more precious to me now that I had had to sacrifice to have it. I carefully draped it over my arm and carried it and the blue box back up to the kitchen. I set the box on the table and picked up the gown by the shoulders and held it up to me. I laughed as I remembered how big it had been when Father had held it up to me; how the hem had dangled on the floor and how disappointed I was that I wouldn’t be able to wear it right then. I had thought this day would never come. By the light of the fire, I gently hugged it to me, sixteen years of patient anticipation finally bubbling up to the surface.

  I draped my gown over a chair. Before I put it on, I would have to figure out what to do with my hair. It was too short to braid and I couldn’t go to the ball with unruly hair. My arms ached as I played with it, trying to persuade it to behave.

  Across the kitchen, something caught my eye and I smiled with relief. My knitting needles were sitting on top of a pile of socks that needed to be darned and I darted across the room to them. They were suddenly beautiful to me and not just practical. I wound my hair around them. It was just long enough to be twisted into an elegant bun at the nape of my neck. It may not be the fashionable intricate braids the other girls would have, but I was grateful I had enough hair left to look and feel nice.

  I sighed giddily as I gingerly placed the gown over my head and smoothed it down over my body. I closed my eyes as I felt the rich fabric fall like water over my skin. It was heavy with yards and yards of material, but the weight felt comforting and warm, instead of bulky and cumbersome.

  I looked down to get a better look at the dress, now that it was finally on. The neckline was a wide oval that reached from shoulder to shoulder and had the same line in the back. The bodice was fitted perfectly and the waistline fell at my ribs. There was intricate embroidery work in white thread at the waist that added a touch of elegance and loveliness. The sleeves were snug from the shoulders to the elbow, and then gently flared out all the way to the wrist.

  I saved the skirt for last. It flowed like a waterfall in billowing skirts all around me. I desperately wanted to twirl round, but was afraid of having it anywhere near the fire or anything dirty at all. Even in the glow of the firelight it sparkled like glistening snow.

  My hands shook as I leaned over the table and removed the lid off the slippers. They lay there in glass perfection and I lifted the first one out of the box. I held it up so I could admire how it glittered in the fire’s light. The slipper was clear, but with a faint blue hue, mingled with orange from the flames.

  I marveled at the slipper’s beauty for a moment and then bent to place it on my foot. I quickly realized that my skirts would never allow me to reach over to even find my foot, much less put on a fragile shoe. I thought about placing it on the floor and trying to step into it, but I was afraid of shattering it in the process and I was nervous to attempt it anywhere near the fire. I imagined I might have better luck if I sat on the stairs and put them on there, so I placed the slipper back in the box with its match and left the soft, orange glow of the fire.

  I stepped out of the kitchen in my bare feet and tip-toed through the dining room and into the foyer. The gentle, smooth light of the moon glowed through the windows in the exact hue of my gown. I felt like I was a part of the moonlight, and that it was a part of me, lighting me from within.

  I continued to the stairs, took the shoes out of the box, and placed them side by side on the floor. I was just getting ready to sit on the stairs when I heard the horrifying sound of horse hooves and wagon wheels.

  A sickening fear gripped me. Victoria had come back to make sure I was really staying home. There was no way I could change out of the gown before she came inside. I heard footsteps on the gravel and fled to the dining room and hid behind the wall. I gasped and stuck my head around the corner. In my haste I had left my precious slippers sitting on the floor at the bottom of the stairs.

  I clenched my fists and bit down on one of them to keep myself from screaming at myself. I had been careless once, and it had cost me Father’s violin. I had been careless again and it had cost me my gown and slippers. Now my carelessness would cost me again. I was too angry with myself to cry, stunned silent with dread.

  The door slowly creaked open. My heart pounded in my chest and my ears, making it impossible to hear anything else. The fear was blinding.

  “Ella,” Will’s whispered voice echoed through the empty stone room. “Are you here?”

  I dared not make a sound. It could have just been my hope that I heard through the pounding in my brain and not his actual voice. He whispered again, a bit louder this time. I breathed a sigh of relief and laughed at myself for being a coward. My heart still pounding, I emerged sheepishly from my hiding place, stood in the doorway, and grinned in embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry. I was hiding,” I mumbled. “I thought you were Victoria and I’m a coward.” I shook my head. What could Victoria have done to me? Fainted?

  “N-No,” he stammered. “You’re an angel.”

  I was slowly getting over my fear enough to notice that he was standing still as stone, staring at me with his mouth hanging open.

  I laughed. I wanted to disregard his statement, but he had described how I felt. “Thank you,” I said with feeling. “You look very handsome yourself.” He raised a hand to his freshly cut hair and looked down at the ground, a shy smile on his lips. We were both obviously out of our element.

  Will seemed to realize something and stepped closer, his mouth falling open again. But there was something else there now besides admiration. It looked something like disbelief.

  “Ella, I was planning on taking you to the ball in your old gray dress whether you wanted to or not. Is this your stolen gown? How did you get it back?” He didn’t sound accusatory, but I could tell he suspected I had done something drastic.

  “Will, I had to do it.” He looked at me more closely, bewilderment and even anger in his eyes. Not anger at me, but anger that I had had to do whatever it was to get my own precious things back that had been stolen in the first place. I laughed softly to try to lighten the mood and slowly turned around. I heard his quiet gasp behind me when he noticed I was missing several feet of blonde hair. “It will grow back, Will,” I said as I turned back around. “I don’t want you to be sad, because I’m not. I had to do something and I have no regrets. Please don’t worry.”

  He tried to smile and then nodded in acceptance and understanding. “I like it,” he said.

  I laughed lightly, grateful for his calm reaction. “I need help with my shoes. I can’t reach my feet.” I hurried back to my beloved slippers that I had abandoned.

  Will bolted into action. “Allow me,” he said. He knelt down and gently cradled a slipper in his strong hand. It looked like he could crush it into a million pieces with no effort. But he held it up carefully and marveled at it as I had. “I don’t know much about shoes, except if they fit or if they hurt my feet, but I can’t imagine that there’s another pair of shoes like these in the world. Where did they come from?”

  “All I know is that they were my mother’s,” I said, my voice catching in my throat.

  He slid the slipper on my outstretched foot and I wondered at its weightlessness. I couldn’t resist pointing my toe and admiring how it sparkled. I put my foot down ever so carefully, afraid to put any weight on it. But as soon as I did, I found that though the slipper was made of glass, it felt as durable as diamond. I balanced on my foot and held out my other one. Will placed the other slipper on and then I put both feet on the floor.

  “Will, do you mind if I do something I’ve wanted to do ever since I put this dress on?” I said, my voice bubbling with excitement.

  “Not at all,” Will said, a bright smile lighting his face.

  I held out my arms and spun around in a circle. My skirts rippled like gentle waves around me like when the wind blows across the surface of the pond. It sparkled in the moonlight and my glass slippers faintly clinked against the polished stone. I spun around a few times and then s
topped myself abruptly when I felt dizzy. My gown swirled around me as if it wasn’t ready to stop yet, and clung to me before it cascaded back to the floor. I grabbed on to Will’s arm to steady myself.

  “That was the most fun I’ve ever had!” I said breathlessly.

  “Me too.”

  We laughed together for a moment. Will never looked away from me and I started to feel self-conscious and let go of his arm. The memory of his eyes burning into mine the night before in front of the fire flashed into my mind.

  “So, am I recognizable without a torn dress and a dirty face?” I asked, trying to catch my breath and not just from my spontaneous spinning.

  Will stepped closer to me, the same burning look in his eyes from last night. Every time I tried to lighten the mood, it had the opposite effect on him. I saw that even in the moonlight, he had those flecks of gold in his green eyes, that it had not just been from the flickering fire. And just as he had last night, he lifted one hand to touch my flushed cheek. Even in the dim light, I was sure he could see and definitely feel my blush, and I ducked my head.

  “I have always seen you this way,” he said softly, his finger gently pulling my chin up so that I would look at him. My heart pounded peculiarly in my chest and it felt like it took on a mind of its own.

  That was all Will said, but he looked like he wanted to say more. Finally, I broke the silence. “Then why are you staring at me like that?” He held my face up to his, but I lowered my eyes.

  “Because for the first time, you see yourself clearly.” Will smiled. “You are beautiful, Ella. Inside and out. Your father and mother would be proud.” He grinned and dropped his hand. But when he did, I kept my own head up and smiled back at him.