Cinderella (Faerie Tale Collection)

by Jenni James

  Paul grinned really big and pulled out a large gold coin. “Oh, he made sure of that already. Gave me this to keep silent to them upstairs.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I would have done so anyway—you know I would have—but to get a prize such as this! Ho! I could not pass it up.”

  “You best be sharing with us all, or you will not be seeing any of these tarts,” teased one of the maids.

  “I could buy me a whole cartload of tarts with this pretty piece!”

  The girls laughed as Ella slipped out of the back kitchen and to the door that led to the orchard. She had traveled several feet alongside the outbuildings before she noticed she still had her apron on. Quickly she whisked it off and ran her hand over her hair to smooth and tuck the wayward wisps into her bun. She could not for the life of her fathom why John would come again to see her so soon. Her heart sped up a few notches as she rounded the corner and made out his form resting against an apple tree a few rows behind the others. He was leaning against it, sitting on the ground as if he had done so a hundred times—as if he belonged there.

  “What brings you here?” she asked as she curled up her feet under her dress, her apron going over her lap as she sat down next to him

  “Forgive me!” John sat up. “I did not hear you coming. I was so lost in my own thoughts, or I would have stood.”

  Ella laughed. “Goodness, I have never been around such manners for years, I sincerely did not think a thing about it.”

  “Well, you should. It is rude of me to not perform that custom when a lady approaches.”

  She grinned and raised her eyebrows. “So does this mean I must wait for you to stand and sit back down before you tell me what it is that has you coming back to the house so soon?”

  “Well, when you put it that way…” He pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket. “Here, this is for you.”

  “Me?” She held the pretty missive in her hand and flipped it over. On one side it had her name scrolled in an elegant script across the front, and on the back was green wax seal with the royal emblem molded into it. “The invitation to the ball. I had nearly forgotten about this. You did it, then?”

  He smiled and turned more slightly toward her. “Open it and see for yourself.”

  Inside there was indeed a very formal invitation to the royal ball, with distinct addresses to her and her only. “You amaze me! When you said you would be able to do this, I was not quite ready to believe you—and yet, here it is, one day later and the invitation is in my hand.”

  “So, will you go to the ball with me? I will not be able to come right as it starts at eight o’clock—because I have duties to attend to—but perhaps if I come at half past nine, I could bring my coach and pick you up. Would that be agreeable? You are welcome to stay as long as you wish. And then, I will bring you back home again.”

  Her fingers traced the graceful swirls of the letters. “You are very serious. You mean for me to attend?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked up, searching his eyes for clues. “And you truly will go to all of that trouble, just for me?”

  He was about to protest that it was no trouble at all, but instead he answered, “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think you need it. Because I have missed you. And because the ball will be exceedingly boring without you, and so it is worth it to travel all the way here to fetch you, to guarantee I will have someone to laugh with.”

  “I really do not prefer to dance.”

  “That is fine; you need not do so if you do not wish to.”

  She took a deep breath and glanced up at him, then looked at the bark of the tree across. “It is not that I do not wish to, it is that I simply was never taught how.”

  “You were never taught how to dance? Lord Dashlund’s daughter was not taught how to dance?”

  “I—uh,” she began, and then fiddled with the invitation a bit. “No. My stepmother preferred to have dancing lessons taught while I was doing my riding lessons. At first I did not know about it, and when I did find out, my father was so hurt and upset that I had been excluded he was nearly shouting down the rafters—and so I told him it was not necessary to become so irate as I simply did not wish to learn.”

  “What did your father say to that?”

  “He was not happy, as you can imagine, but he was grateful that all was well. He could not bear to see me harmed in any way, and so he was mostly angry on my part believing that I was.”

  “And were you?”

  “Angry?”

  “No, harmed by their actions.”

  She opened her mouth and then closed it. Her hands tightening their hold, nearly crushing the small envelope. “No,” she whispered.

  “Eleanoria Woodston.”

  “Yes?”

  Her eyes met his and he struggled with the weight of harmful acts he saw hidden within them. She was hurt. She had been hurt. She was suffering now from the actions of her family. And yet she kept it hidden. Just as his own mother and father balanced their fears, she suffered the same. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to pry out of her, instead he asked, “Would you like to dance?”

  She blinked and then chuckled. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Come on, you,” he said as she brushed off the dirt and stood up. He held one hand out to her. “Come on, it will be fun. And you will enjoy every moment of your very first dancing lesson.”

  She rolled her eyes, set her apron upon the ground and clasped his hand. “So, now you are an instructor as well as an outrider?”

  He tugged her up and quickly captured her waist with his other hand. “I have many talents you do not know about.”

  “I cannot believe I am allowing you to do this,” she muttered.

  He smiled, his hazel eyes twinkling down at her. “You will love this.”

  “I believe I shall dread it.”

  “Ah!” he gasped, a mock wounded look going across his features. “How could you say such a thing? I am in high demand at all the balls.”

  “Are you really?” She grinned and raised an eyebrow. “This proves my theory of how royalty behaves, if it is you who is high demand and not the prince. I do not think I would like to go after all.”

  He pulled her in tighter and winked. “No getting out of it. You must come and suffer with me.”

  “Just remember if I destroy your feet, it is your own fault.”

  “I have been duly warned.” He laughed. “Now, shall we begin?”

  Ella bit her lip to stifle a giggle. “Yes, please.”

  “Good. Now on the count of three, I will begin to move. I will still be counting aloud, but all you need to do is look in my eyes—stay focused there and trust me. I will do the rest.”

  “Really? Is that really how you dance? The woman just follows the man?”

  “Yes, basically. And as long as you have a very good dancing partner.” He cleared his throat and waggled his brows. “As you do, this will be a piece of cake for you—almost like floating on air.”

  She did giggle that time. “Well, then, I believe this might not be so bad after all.”

  “Ella, my dear, you will soon learn being with me is the easiest thing in the world.”

  “Hmm…” She tilted her head. “And I thought beating you was the easiest thing in the world.”

  John chuckled. “Minx. Now, let us begin.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ELLA HELD HER PLAIN dress out with one hand as John took a step forward with his right foot, pushing slightly against her waist. She stepped back with her left and then over to the right as he again guided her by pushing gently on her waist. She stumbled a couple of times, but he was correct, after a very slow start and somewhat awkward rhythm, they were able to begin to truly dance.

  “Do not look down, keep your eyes on me,” he said.

  She giggled and stared right into his captivating green-brown eyes with long blondish eyelashes as they stepped and spun. He really was qui
te handsome. He always had been. Even as a boy when he was angry with her for winning, he was still handsome. After a few minutes, she asked, “Why is it men seem to have the prettiest eyelashes? ‘Tis not fair.”

  Grinning, John replied as he increased his speed a bit, “So that is what you were thinking about just now? How long my lashes were? And here I was quite positive you were enamored with the way I dance.”

  Mirth trickled out in a long series of chuckles that made her lose her footing. “Pardon me!” she exclaimed as she tread upon his boots. “I am impressed with your dancing—or rather your ability to teach me to dance—however, I am more amazed with your eyelashes.

  “Of course you would be!”

  “You may take it as a compliment.”

  “How so?”

  The thoughts swirled within her mind. Because you are wonderful. Because your eyes are beautiful and I cannot look away. Her smile dropped. “Because it means a girl is close enough to see your face and not looking from a distance and admiring your dancing. She is actually seeing and admiring you.”

  He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “And is Miss Ella Woodston admitting she is admiring me?”

  Ella blushed and looked down, their feet dipping and swirling through the grass of the orchard. “No. What a foolish thing to believe. I was merely stating the difference between the two.”

  “Ella?”

  “What?”

  “Look at me.”

  “No.”

  “Ella, please?” He slowly brought their steps to a halt.

  Her eyes climbed to his cravat and coat, with her right fingers tucked into his—and his other hand warmly on her waist. “Yes?”

  “Look all the way up, please. I would like to see your eyelashes.”

  “Cannot you see them just the way they are now?”

  “Against your reddened cheeks, yes. But I wish to see them with your lively eyes staring back at me.”

  She could not explain why, but all of the sudden her breathing grew more rapid and the overwhelming sensation of his nearness was completely new and unexpected. “I would rather not.”

  “Why?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Ella?” He let go of her waist and tucked his finger under her chin.

  Instinctively, she stiffened and pulled back.

  Quickly, he dropped his hand. “Forgive me. I did not mean to startle you. I would never force you to do something against your will. I hope you realize that.”

  She was such a fool. Why did she have to be so skittish? Ella nodded her head and then slowly brought her eyes up to his.

  He inhaled sharply.

  She did not know what he saw within them, but his own face took on a look of such sorrow.

  “Thank you,” he said. “You do not trust many people, do you? So, I thank you.”

  This was simply too mortifying. He could read her like a book. “I—I should probably go now.”

  John captured her hand before she could run off. “Please do not leave because of my impertinence. I must learn that you are not the same as the women at court. You are different.”

  Her heart went cold. “What are you implying?”

  “No, I did not mean it that way.” He cleared his throat. “I meant your manners are more pleasing, more fresh and natural. You have not mastered the artifice that many of the other women have.”

  Warily, Ella’s eyes traced his features. He seemed happy and earnest enough. “And this is something that is good—it is good to be different?”

  He sighed. “Yes! Yes, more than you could ever imagine. Oh, Ella, I get so bored with the incessant chatter of the court. The games and rudeness and constant tiptoeing about everywhere you go so as not to say the wrong thing to the wrong person who will construe it in completely the opposite of what you meant.”

  “Oh!” She laughed forcefully and then replied, “So, akin to what has been occurring with us at the moment?”

  “Yes.” He nodded and grinned. “Yes, it is like this, but it is like this all the time. With you, I know it is simply a cultural difference, something I must explain away so you understand what I truly mean. There—there it is a constant battle of confusions and loyalties and naysayers. Truth be told, it is simply exhausting.”

  She looked down at their entwined fingers. “So why attend court if you cannot abide it?”

  “I must. It is my life—my, er, situation as an outrider and special companion to the duke to be present everywhere he goes.” He nudged her hand, swinging it a bit. “Honestly, I would much rather be here with you than anywhere else in this kingdom.”

  Gasping, her eyes flew to his. “You would? But why?”

  His smile softened. “I do not know. There is something about you that tugs at me, though. Something safe and warm and easy. Something that makes me forget my future and all the silliness surrounding life and her trials. No, you are so very different from the women at court, that I find myself relieved and grateful to have reconnected with you again.” He brought her hand up and, bowing over it, kissed her knuckles. His soft lips caressing her skin, causing a series of tingles and warmth to spread into her palm and up to her elbow, before he straightened himself. “Eleanoria Woodston, may I call again soon?”

  She knew she should tell him no. She knew once her stepmother got wind that she was entertaining a man—even if he were an old friend, if she learned about any of this Ella would surely be punished worse than before. “I do not know if I dare.”

  “What are you saying?” he asked.

  What was she saying? She nearly revealed to him her biggest secret. “’Tis nothing—I was merely worried about having a visitor so very much. It might make it more difficult for me to—for me to…” Her voice trailed off as she tried desperately to think of something suitable to say.

  “Prepare for the ball?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Yes!” Ella smiled. “Yes, precisely. I must make a gown and therefore it will take up quite a bit of my time.”

  “I see. Well, then perhaps on the off chance you change your mind, I will be out here in the orchard tomorrow around two o’clock, if you would like to see me then.”

  Her jaw dropped. “At two o’clock?”

  “Yes.”

  She swung her arm wide. “Out here. In our orchards?”

  “Exactly here.” He grinned, looking mighty pleased with himself.

  “But? But—but here? But what will you do out here?”

  “Why, wait for you, of course.”

  “John!” she hissed.

  “What?”

  “Well, what if I cannot make it?”

  “Then I shall entertain myself, I suppose.”

  “But what if I can come? Then what?”

  “Are you asking what we will do to occupy ourselves?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why, dance, of course. I have very many more steps to teach you.”

  When she could not reply, her mouth forgetting completely how to work properly, he said, “So, perhaps tomorrow then?”

  “I—”

  He chuckled and brushed his lips over her hand again. “Goodbye, fair Ella. I shall await you tomorrow.”

  And then he was gone.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “ELLA, DO YOU THINK the duke will ever like me?” Lacey asked as she gathered the length of her ball gown petticoat from the floor and set it on her pretty pink bed.

  Ella removed the needle that was in her mouth and answered, “I do not know, I hope for your sake he does.”

  Lacey sighed and sat herself, with crossed legs—very unladylike, upon the bed next to where Ella was working. Her stepsister had been attaching the rows and rows of new lace all morning and yet, she still was not done. “Do you need help?” Lacey surprised herself by asking. “It looks very tedious. Perhaps there is a simple chore I can do for you such as cutting the ribbon.” She glanced over at the spools of trimming her mother had bought earlier.

  Ella seemed amazed by her willingness to help, but
did not comment on it. “I will begin tying the bows in about thirty minutes or so, if you would like to start by cutting them, I would be very appreciative.”

  “Perfect,” Lacey exclaimed as she searched the room for the scissors. “How long should I make each one?”

  “If you take the ribbon from the tip of your finger to your elbow, it should be plenty.”

  “Oh, I think I could do that.” She collected a spool and began to measure and snip the smooth purple fabric. “How many strips should I make?”

  Ella pulled the bunches of white laces in front of her, and then spread it out upon the bed. “Perhaps twenty or so?” She stretched the ruffles out and then shook her head. “Better make it thirty.”

  “Goodness! That is a lot of bows.”

  “Well, you have one of the largest petticoats I have ever worked on.” Ella smiled and fluffed the layers up a bit. “It is quite stunning, though. It will really create a lovely silhouette for your gown. And with the peek-a-boo petticoat running the whole length, it will be very breathtaking. I am sure the duke will not help but notice you in this dress.”

  She giggled. “Do you really think so?” There was nothing she wanted more than Lord Gavenston to become aware of her and possibly ask her to dance. If only she could figure a way to not do such silly things in front of him. Lacey grimaced as she snipped another length of ribbon. The poor man was more than likely terrified of her. “I will never be able to get him to see me as a person—as someone to possibly court—though, will I?”

  Ella mumbled something Lacey could not understand and then asked, “How was your meeting with him the other day? Did it go well? Did he seem interested in you?”

  She groaned and set the scissors down. It would be impossible to concentrate on cutting ribbon if she had to answer such questions. Bringing her knees up, she wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her head on top. “It was a disaster. Just an awful disaster.”

  “What do you mean? What happened?” Ella found the last spot of lace that still needed to be attached and began stitching. “I thought everything went well, at least I had not heard anything amiss.”