I had snuck out. I was supposed to be at home, crying in a corner. As far as I knew, Victoria didn’t know I had gone to the ball. I couldn’t see any candles lit inside, so perhaps I had made it home before she had. I wondered if it were possible for me to enter through the kitchen undetected.
I looked around me to make sure I hadn’t been followed home. All was quiet. Deathly quiet. The tranquil loveliness of the moon from earlier in the evening had turned ghostly and cold and it sent a shiver up my back and to my bare neck. As I made my way up the long drive, I was surprised to see a carriage parked close to the house, one wheel precariously balanced on the front steps. The two horses that had pulled the carriage were huffing loudly and covered in sweat.
Victoria was home. And she had come home in a hurry. She knew I had been at the ball. There was no point in hiding from her now. With a sigh, I walked up the steps and heaved open the great oak doors. I had expected Victoria to be waiting for me, cold and formidable, at the top of the stairs, a subtle sneer on her lips. I looked up the stairs to the hall and saw the dark glow of candlelight flooding out of her open door.
Gathering all my courage, I slowly moved forward, reaching out to hold onto the warped wood of the banister and climbed up the stairs. Once I reached the landing, I stood in the open doorway of Victoria’s room and took in the scene in front of me.
Victoria was on her bed on top of the quilts, still in her evening dress. Her eyes were closed and her breaths came in shallow huffs. Mabel and Cecelia were standing in the far corner of the room, glaring at me with more hatred than they ever had. It almost seemed as if they knew who I had spent the evening with and they also saw that I somehow had my gown and slippers back, or at least one slipper back, which I clutched tightly in my hand. I could feel my chopped hair brushing bluntly on top of my shoulders, but I didn’t care what they thought of it.
The doctor was sitting on the edge of Victoria’s bed, checking her pulse on her wrist. Now I knew who the carriage belonged to. He was staring at me through eyes filled with pity. “Ella,” he said softly. “Victoria is dying. She doesn’t have long. I’m so sorry, my dear.”
Dying? I felt myself blink slowly, trying to grasp what he had just said. I knew she was ill, but she had been well enough to go to the ball … hadn’t she?
He turned to face the other two girls in the corner. “I’ll leave you to say good-bye to your mother, girls.”
The doctor left the room and seemed surprised to see me following him. I answered the unasked question in his eyes. “I’ll let them talk to her first.” I said vacantly.
Once we were out of her bedroom, I collapsed in the same chair I had sat in while father lay dying in the bed across the hall. I could hear his frail voice over and over in my mind, “Take care of them. Take care of them. Take care of them.”
I looked at the doctor, who was rubbing between his eyes with his fingers. “What happened tonight, doctor?”
He dropped his hand from his face and sighed. “I decided to stay near your stepmother tonight. I had told her that she should not be out of bed and I was terribly worried about her. She was sitting on a bench, searching the crowd with an almost crazed expression. I never knew what she was looking for. Then, that sweet girl Jane Emerson came and whispered something in Victoria’s ear. I’ve never seen such anger in anyone’s eyes as I did in Victoria’s at that moment. She stood so swiftly that it startled everyone around her. She began to run in the direction that Jane had come from, then quite suddenly, she stopped, her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground. I rushed over to her and all she would say was, ‘Ella. Ella.’ ”
The doctor looked at me with a penetrating gaze. He was not accusatory, but it was obvious that he was confused as to why she would be saying my name. I felt he deserved an explanation.
I swallowed hard. “Victoria forbade me from going to the ball. I disobeyed her and sneaked out after she had gone. But Jane saw me at the ball and must have told Victoria I had come after all.” There was so much more to the story: my dress and slippers being stolen, Victoria’s cruel words about my father, my whole week of whippings, and really my whole life of servitude to her. But that was all I said. The doctor nodded in understanding. He had seen a little of what life was like at Ashfield now and I think he knew that there was more to it than I could say.
“Well, we managed to get her home and into bed, but she hasn’t spoken since the ball.” He sighed, the stress of the evening sinking in.
“Thank you, Doctor. I’m grateful that you were so near to her and I’m sure Victoria is too.” He smiled and patted my hands, which were resting on my lap.
Just then, Cecelia and Mabel exited Victoria’s room. I didn’t know what to expect, but I shouldn’t have been surprised to see two girls with dry eyes and calm faces step out of their dead, or almost dead, mother’s room.
“Is she … ?” I asked.
Mabel shook her head with a blank look on her face.
I sighed and stood. I knew this would be the last time I ever spoke to Victoria.
Chapter 24
I WALKED THROUGH THE OPEN DOORWAY AND INTO THE consuming gloom; the darkness pressed in on me, making it difficult to breathe. I crept slowly to the foot of my stepmother’s bed and drew in a labored breath. Victoria looked like a skeleton. She still had her elegant dress on and I realized that she would want to die in something extravagant, not a plain nightgown. But I also knew that Victoria did not want to die at Ashfield, no matter what she was wearing.
I reached Victoria’s bedside, scarcely aware that I was moving and not knowing what compelled me to move even closer to her. The dim light from the single candle on the bedside table cast deathly shadows over her sunken cheeks, making them appear hollow. Her breathing was so shallow it made me take another unsteady breath, trying to compensate somehow.
I stood looking at my stepmother. For nearly ten years, I had trained myself not to feel too deeply, because then I might hurt too deeply. Any time I would hurt, I would only let it be a superficial feeling—not allowing it to consume me, not letting the pain in. Occasionally, I would shed a tear or two, and move on. It was necessary to my survival.
But as I gazed down at the person who could have and should have taken care of me when I had needed her most, the emotions I had been burying for so long bubbled up to the surface. I felt abandonment knowing that the person who could have grieved with me when Father died had instead brushed me aside. I felt bitterness for every time she saw the bad in me instead of the good. I felt anguish because she sought for power and control instead of empathy and love.
Then, so unexpectedly it knocked the air out from my lungs, I felt a startling and overpowering wave of pity course through my veins. What had happened in Victoria’s life that had made her into such a hateful creature? Why couldn’t she show real love to anyone, including her own daughters?
I realized I knew almost nothing about this woman. What were her parents like? Her childhood? Her first husband? Had he been kind? I had been pushed away every time I had tried to get to know her. She hadn’t wanted to know me, and she had never allowed me to know her. But still, at this moment when Victoria’s life was about to end, I felt a deep sadness for her that I knew, as soon as I felt it, would always be a part of me.
I took comfort knowing that even though Victoria had been cruel and harsh with me, I had tried my best to serve and please her. I had given, I had sacrificed, I had worked and slaved and toiled. And though it was very often fear of her that kept me from running away, there was always something deeper that kept me here.
I had promised to take care of her, and I had kept that promise.
I thought back over the countless hours I had spent brushing Victoria’s long graying hair and drawing her baths; of washing and mending her clothes; of making her bed and folding her quilts; and of all the meals I had made and watching Victoria’s face when she truly enjoyed it. And though she had never thanked me, it was still satisfying knowing I had pleased her. I
t was something that had been expected, and even ordered of me, but now I saw it as a small offering—an offering of my time and energy for the woman my father, for whatever reason, had once loved.
I suddenly knew the answer to the question I had asked myself for years. Why did Victoria’s daughters seemingly care nothing for her? Why did she keep us all at a distance? She didn’t treat them as coldly as she treated me, but there was still no warmth or tenderness in her eyes when she looked at her daughters. How could they leave her on her deathbed without so much as a tear? It was because they had never been taught to serve, never been taught to love or empathize. They had been taught to demand and tease and manipulate. They felt no real love for their mother because she had never loved or served them either. But I had always seen Victoria’s behavior as simply vicious and heartless, and not a mask for her own pain.
My heart swelled with so much pity and sorrow that it felt like it would burst. I personally had no regrets. I knew I had done all I could. But to know that so many years of Victoria’s life were wasted on vanity and pride and an unquenchable thirst for power hurt me more than any whipping ever could. And to now consider the very real possibility that she showed me only cruelty and contempt was because she most likely had been treated the same way made my pain mingle with hers. This was a pain that ran deep, a pain that had to be healed from the inside out—a pain I was actually grateful to feel in time to do something about it.
Victoria hadn’t moved at all from the time I came into her room, and I didn’t even know how long I had been standing there. I sat down in the chair next to the bed and reached out to take Victoria’s withered hand. I was not hesitant in the least. There was no time for that.
“Victoria,” I whispered. Her eyes flickered under her eyelids, and I knew she could hear me. “Victoria, I forgive you. I forgive you for any hurt you have caused me. I’m so sorry for any hurt you have known in your life. I wish that I could have known you better, that we could have been friends, but I want you to know I bear no ill will toward you. We have all done the best we could with the lot we’ve been given. We all have our trials, and I feel peace for you knowing that yours will soon be over, and I pray that you too will find peace.”
Tears had begun to roll down my cheeks, but my voice was neither timid nor trembling. The tears fell freely and splashed onto the sheets. It felt as if a physical weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and even sitting in that stale room that was filled with sickness and death, I felt as if I were breathing fresh air for the first time in years.
I knew I could not have said these words when Victoria had been healthy and strong and domineering. They would have been met with sarcasm and antagonism. But it didn’t matter. Clarity had come in these last hours that I couldn’t have experienced before. And the empathy that had grown inside of me in the last few moments had rapidly evolved into something that resembled love.
I sat weeping by my stepmother’s bedside when Victoria’s limp and bony fingers gripped mine with a sudden fierceness. I looked up in amazement and saw a tear glisten out of the corner of Victoria’s closed eye. It ran down the side of her face and into her hair.
Chapter 25
VICTORIA DIED AT MIDNIGHT. I FELT HER ICY FINGERS release my hand, and I knew she was gone. I carefully folded her arms across her chest and kissed her forehead. I stumbled out of the room and silently closed the door behind me.
I was suddenly so weary, my limbs felt as heavy as the great marble pillars of Ashfield. I informed the doctor that Victoria was gone and we set about making the necessary arrangements. I didn’t know if this was his usual role—planning the burials for his patients—but I was very grateful for the help. Victoria would be buried in the garden next to my father and mother—a thought that would have torn at my heart even an hour before. But now that my feelings had been softened toward her, it felt quite appropriate. I knew that Father would have been pleased.
Once everything had been arranged, the doctor made his preparations to leave, telling me he would notify the mortician to come and get the body. He told me to go and get some rest, that I didn’t need to be awake when they came.
I walked the doctor to the door and he glanced up to the bedroom doors on the second floor. He shifted his weight and twirled his hat around in his hands.
“Your sisters are talking about leaving. Mabel received a proposal tonight.”
“Of marriage?” My voice came out in a strangled whisper. I was absolutely shocked. I couldn’t even imagine who it could be. I hadn’t heard of her being courted by anyone.
He nodded slowly. “I’m sure she’ll fill you in on all the details.” He tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “I told your sisters I would take them to where they were going, so I’ll just wait outside for them.” He paused and then added gently, “Do you have anywhere to go?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I stated, perhaps a little too firmly.
“Good.” His dry lips lifted slightly in an exhausted smile. I couldn’t stop myself from throwing my arms around him and thanking him. He patted my back gently and kissed my cheek, then walked to his carriage and waited for my stepsisters.
After seeing the doctor out, I climbed up the stairs and stood outside my stepsisters’ bedrooms. They were running back and forth from their wardrobes to their beds where they each had their travel bags on top. They were hurriedly stuffing dresses, bonnets, worn shoes, and frayed stockings into the bags. They must have hated this house just as much as Victoria had.
“You’re really leaving? Now?” I asked. I didn’t sound accusatory—I didn’t have the energy for that. I was merely curious.
Mabel stopped her packing and looked at me with a strange combination of haughtiness and chagrin. The hint of remorse in her eyes softened all of her features and for a moment she was the stunningly beautiful little girl I had first met. Cecelia was suddenly by her side, looking at her sister as if she’d never seen her before. There was compassion in Cecelia’s eyes that looked so foreign on her face I wouldn’t have recognized her.
“I … I am to be married,” Mabel said. “It wasn’t supposed to be for another few months, but once they hear what has happened to mother, I’m sure it will be sooner. The Wallaces have already begged Cecelia and me to stay with them so we can plan the wedding.”
“The Wallaces? Oh, not Roger Wallace, Mabel! Anyone but him. He’s terrible.”
“He’s rich,” Mabel said with a shrug. “I’m tired of being poor.”
I blinked in disbelief and turned to Cecelia. “Cecelia, what about you? What will you do there once Mabel is married?”
“Roger has a rich cousin who will be coming into town for the wedding. Mrs. Wallace says he’s perfect for me.”
There was nothing else to say. They had it all planned out and there was nothing I could do. I wondered if they had returned to their original plan of ensnaring Roger Wallace when they realized they wouldn’t be able to meet the prince tonight. And I wondered if it was Mabel who Roger strode off to after our horrible dance. I felt desperately sorry for Mabel. I didn’t know if she knew what she was getting herself into, but it seemed she didn’t care, which was infinitely worse. She saw an escape and she was taking it. And she was taking Cecelia with her.
We stood there in silence for a moment, and then Cecelia raised her hand and placed it on Mabel’s shoulder. Mabel nodded and Cecelia smiled faintly in return. They retrieved their bags, walked down the stairs, and to the front door. Before they closed the door, they turned to look at me once more.
It was almost impossible for me to identify the expression on their faces that had always been made of stone. It looked like relief and perhaps a hint of regret.
I was stunned to silence and I stood looking at the closed door for a long time. They had become different people in a matter of moments. I realized that they had also suffered. They had had to protect themselves too. They had learned from their mother to treat me unkindly and so I assumed that they, too, were unkind.
But they did what was expected of them, just as I had. I had always been taught by my father to recognize others’ suffering, but somehow I hadn’t been able to see the suffering of those who were closest to me. It’s true they were the reason for my own pain, but I had let it blind me into thinking that their suffering went no deeper than a sadness over a lack of new dresses and decadent food. Could they have missed their own father and their old life? I might never know. We had all worn our masks and played our roles well.
I was overwhelmed by all the awareness I was suddenly feeling. I wondered if there was anything else that was going to be revealed to me now that my mask was off.
I willed my feet forward and I climbed the long stairs up to my tower, my sanctuary. It felt like I had just lived the longest day of my life. The stairs wound endlessly upward, and it seemed like they had doubled in length as I dizzily rounded each corner. My feet were bloody and raw from running through the woods, so I placed my one slipper back on my foot to provide some protection from the slivers and knots in the wooden stairs. My bare foot was silent against the steps, but the soft clinking of my single glass slipper on my other foot reminded me that I had abandoned my shoe in my hasty escape from the palace. Grief crushed me as I realized I had lost something precious of my mother’s—again. I couldn’t think about that now, but I wondered vaguely, as I wearily climbed the stairs, if I would ever see it again.
I reached my door and lethargically pushed it open. My room looked exactly as I had left it, whenever it had been that I had last slept there. I wanted to feel like I was coming to a place where I could feel safe, but considering that the reason for my personal banishment was now dead, it suddenly felt pointless to be up here all alone. I longed for the large and comfortable bedroom I hadn’t slept in since I was a little girl—my rightful place in this house.
Ella: A Novel Page 17