by Jenni James
“And what will you do?”
“Sit here and mope and moan and pray she is well—and probably not sleep until I hold her in my arms again and—” He suddenly stood up. “You know, frankly, I am not sure what it is I am still doing here. The moon can be hanged! She needs me. I must go now.”
His mother smiled. “I was wondering myself why you were still here.”
He placed a quick kiss upon her cheek. “Thank you. I will be home later this evening.”
“If you know what is good for you, you most definitely will,” she answered, chuckling.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Son. Now, hurry and go win her heart as well!”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He bowed and then called out the door as he left, “Get a stable boy to saddle my horse at once.”
“I want to know every detail!” Her echo reached him as he started to head down the grand staircase. Shaking his head, Anthony grinned and chuckled. What would he ever do without his mother?
***
E—
Forgive this late reply. I have only now just received your note.
I hope to meet with you tomorrow or the following day at the latest.
I miss you.
A
Ella had just allowed the eagerness and anticipation to flow through her at the prince’s reply when there was a knock at her bedroom door a second time that evening. She quickly folded the missive and tucked it under her pillow.
“Miss,” one of the kitchen maids whispered as Ella answered the door, “sorry to bother you again, but there is someone awaiting you outside in the orchards.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“He says he knows it is late, but wishes to speak with you nonetheless. Should I send someone to shoo him away?”
“Is he tall?”
“Yes, Miss. And very handsome, too.”
Ella grinned. “No, I will go down myself shortly,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
By the time Ella had changed from her nightgown into a dress and made her way downstairs and to the orchard, it had already been a few minutes. She was not wholly foolish and did think to bring a large meat cleaver from the kitchen, just in case it was not Anthony waiting for her as she assumed.
Her faint worries were for not.
“Ella!” he exclaimed as he rushed up to her, spinning her around in a big hug. “Are you well? Tell me that you are well. I have been frantic these past forty minutes or so thinking the worst.”
“Good grief, Anthony! You must put me down at once, or I may chop off your head—clearly by accident, of course.”
“What?” He laughed and set her down, his eyes taking in the large knife. “My word! You were not jesting.”
“It took every bit of control I had not to cut you with it as you were flinging me about.” She chuckled, as she tossed in on the ground several feet away.
“Well, that will teach me not to come meet with you late at night.”
“I had to be certain it was you, did I not?”
“Most definitely.” He grinned, his eyes roaming over every feature of hers in the moonlight. “I have missed you terribly.”
“How are you?”
“I am well, now that I am here.” He folded her back into his arms, much more gently this time, and kissed her. “It has been too long.”
“Yes, it has,” she murmured as she laid her head against his chest.
“Let us not wait this long before meeting again.”
“No.”
He trailed his hands up and down her spine, sending warmth dancing and pinging about all over her. “Now, tell me. All is well here, yes? You are not in danger?”
How it is a man could be so perfect? Grinning, she answered, “I am fine. I only contacted you because I needed some advice.”
Releasing a sigh, his whole body relaxed. “What can I do for you? What do you need?”
She wrapped her arms tighter around him. “It certainly is nothing that warranted you racing all the way out here for. I only needed to speak over my thoughts on how to deal with my family.”
“Tell me what has happened. Have you come to a conclusion?”
“No. But I did come across my father’s documents, the proof that he had indeed put his deeds in my name. I own it all, everything—the lands, house, cattle, inheritance—it is all mine. He had also written a letter begging me to take care of my stepmother and stepsisters, but explaining his reasoning to leaving it all for me was because he was afraid they would do exactly as they did. Take it all and leave me with nothing.”
“What would you like to do?” he asked quietly.
“Honestly, not anything. I want to go back to the way things were before. Nothing has changed in my eyes. They will still treat me the same, if not worse if they knew. However, I am afraid if I do not put some plan into motion, I may begin to resent them and react badly.”
“You know I will support you with whatever you choose.”
“Yes, I know.”
“But, Ella, dear, you cannot wish to be their servant forever.”
“Why not?” She closed her eyes. “I cannot see how I am worth anything more than that. I tell myself I am, but I cannot imagine trying to rise above this. It is all I have known for so long—what if I fail at the rest? What if I cannot do all that will be expected of me? Then what?”
“Then you fail.”
“But?”
“So? So you fail. It is all right. We all fail. Every single one of us.”
“Everyone?”
“It is part of life, my dear. You just pick yourself back up and move forward again. You certainly do not have to be perfect the very first time you attempt something new.”
“You do not?”
He laughed. “Goodness, no! What would be the point of living if you did not learn, if you did not grow and seek and challenge yourself?” He pulled back to look at her. “We need to live life, all of it—the ups and downs, failures and successes—for us to truly know our worth.” His hand came up to cup the side of her head. “Ella, what I believe you need to sort out first is the value you place upon you.”
What value? Glancing down, she frowned.
“Ella, do not look away, my dear. Once you see your true worth, once you know exactly who you were meant to be—not what you believe you are—no, think past that to your destiny. Until you embrace all the world has to offer you, then you will never be free within your own heart. You will always be trapped within yourself, reminding your soul you are not worth what others have. Whether you fail or not is not the question here, you will most certainly fail many times. What you need to ask yourself is whether you are ready to become all you were destined to be.”
Her eyes flew to his dark steady gaze, the moonlight shining a bluish glow upon him. “Thank you.” Stepping up on tiptoe, she pulled his mouth down to hers and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. This was her destiny. Here was her future.
If she could only allow herself to believe in its possibilities.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ELLA HAD HEARD WHAT Anthony had said—she had thought about it many times over the next three weeks or so. He had been faithful in his declaration to visit her more often. It was not every day, but he did come about three or four times a week to talk and laugh and teach her to dance, of course.
Every day he came, her heart grew larger and she learned more about herself than she ever thought possible. She began to truly trust that he loved her, that he saw her, and also she began to see how much good she did for him as well. There were days when they would hold each other and share memories of their loved ones, and then there were days when he would spin her about and tease her and make her laugh for hours.
The blossoms eventually fell to the orchard floor and made way for the small little buds that would sooner or later become apples. There was change happening all around them. When Anthony was coronated king, the village celebrated for three days. It made it more impossible for him to sneak
away, but he did so. Even if he could not stay long, he made a point to come as much as possible.
He was so very patient with her, so very wise as he spoke and brought out her fears and then laid them to rest. She was healing; they both were. But it was not until she was speaking with Lacey, as Ella finished up the last fitting for the ball gown she was sewing for her, that she truly understood what the prince had meant.
“Do you really believe Lord Gavenston will love me in this gown?” Lacey asked for the third time as she twirled before the looking glass—her pink dress spinning elegantly with her.
“Yes,” Ella answered again. “Yes, any man who sees you in that gown will fall right at your feet.”
Lacey groaned and plopped down on a chair near the window. “More likely I will fall at their feet and cause everyone else in the room to fall with me.” She placed her elbow on the arm of the chair and held her head in her hand. “Everyone will more likely run from me, and you know it is true.”
Ella needed to be sure that Jillian did not wreak any more havoc at the ball. “I have a good feeling about this event. I would not be too down on yourself.”
“Really?”
“Yes. There is something about this ball that I feel will truly turn everything around for you.”
Lacey sat up. “Well, thank you, though I do not know what I will do if it goes wrong.”
“It will not.”
“Yes, but how can you guarantee that?”
“Because something tells me that it is not entirely your fault.”
“What do you mean?”
Ella grinned. “Just wait and see. Your assignment is to show up and be as beautiful and gracious as possible.”
“Are you still coming?”
“Yes. I was planning to. Though, I have spoken with your mother and asked that I arrive by myself.”
Lacey’s eyes went wide. “How did she receive that?”
Ella shrugged. “I did not really wait around to find out. I just merely stated I would be attending the ball through my own means and that I would not be needing the use of her carriage.”
Lacey’s jaw dropped. “Do you have any idea what my mother would do to me if I said such things to her?”
“Was it wrong of me?”
“No, not at all. But it clearly shows a certain independence she would not appreciate well. My mother loves to run things—and clearly the fact she is allowing you to attend the ball on your own without grilling you where and how you are to get there shows that she is much more terrified of you and the outcome of this ball than she lets on.”
“Good.” Ella smiled. “She should be. I have a kind heart, but even I can only take so much.”
“Ella? What do you mean?”
What did she mean? She collected the sewing basket from off the floor and slowly began to place the items she needed inside. Was she willing to truly stand up and face her stepmother? Was she willing to become who she was meant to be? Could it actually be that simple? To just decide one day to not take it and then simply do not. “I do not know what has come over me. But I do know I am willing to begin thinking for myself, for the first time in a long time,” she answered.
The point had come that someone stopped Jillian as well. Or she would only continue to grow and fester and become even worse than her mother.
That was the awareness that sunk in the most. They were in the wrong.
It was not Ella, nor even Lacey. Jillian and Lady Dashlund had done wrong. They had harmed more than just Ella for the sake of their own greed and pride, and it must stop. Without saying goodbye, Ella walked out of Lacey’s room and slipped into her old blue bedroom next door. She stood there for several moments taking in the glorious furnishings and beloved ornaments. It took a while before she truly began to see all that Anthony had been saying to her.
She deserved this room—just as much as they deserved theirs. No, more so, for this room was rightfully hers. Eleanoria Rose Woodston was allowed happiness. She was allowed freedom and joy and she was allowed to believe in a future. They could not take that from her—they will not take it from her ever again.
It was most definitely time for the madness to stop.
Ella had a destiny to plan for.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE MORNING OF THE ball came bright and early—the perfect, glorious day. Birds were chirping merrily in their nests and a warm breeze had kissed and danced its way upon the whole valley. There was an exceptional commotion in the Dashlund house when a large package arrived for Eleanoria Woodston from the palace. It was beautifully decorated with lavish gold ribbon.
Lady Dashlund requested that Ella open the box in front of them all in the sitting room facing the window showing the beautiful day outside. Once opened, Ella pulled out one of the most stunning ball gowns anyone had ever seen before. It was layers upon layers of the most frothiest and lightest of weight blue gauze. Its many countless layers floated and puffed and dipped and swayed as the dress was moved about.
Every one of the ladies gasped at the detailing of embroidered flowers and jewels nestled within the bodice. It was a gown meant for royalty. A gown that had surely cost a small fortune. Tucked within the folds of the tissue was also an elegant petticoat and blue feathered headdress, with matching full-length gloves and fan. The gift was so striking—so surprising, it was several minutes before anyone could say a full sentence other than exclamations of grandeur and beauty.
But once Lady Dashlund could speak, it was clear she was much more worried than before. “Well, Eleanoria, this is a nice gift for you. What a wonderful thing for the queen to decide to surprise you with such a gown on the day of her ball. I wonder what in the world she could mean by singling you out in such a way? It must be so very nice to be noticed by her, is it not?”
“Yes, it most certainly is.” Ella grinned as she collected the mass of blue fabric and beads and feathers and set it all back in the box. She would have to give Anthony quite the tongue lashing for this one. Honestly, she had told him a thousand times she had a gown to wear. He must have not believed her.
He was so good to her.
“Ella? Would you like one of the footmen to bring the box upstairs for you?” asked her stepmother, in a display of extreme politeness. “Actually, my dear, I am not sure that gown will fit in your attic room, perhaps we should have him place it in your old rooms for the time being. I see no reason why you should not get dressed in there. It is quite the largest room in the house.”
“Mother!” screeched Jillian as she moved around to the other side of Ella. “You know that room is especially used for guests. Why should Ella use that one to get dressed when she has a perfectly fine room up in the attics?”
“Because, my dear,” Lady Dashlund’s voice was terse, “your stepsister has been invited particularly by the queen to attend this ball. It is, of course, our duty to see that she dresses comfortably and arrives there in the greatest of ease.” She turned toward Ella. “Are you sure you do not need the carriage?”
“Yes. I am quite positive.” Ella scooped up the box and began to walk out of the sitting room. “Oh, and Jillian is perfectly right. I do not mind dressing up in the room you have given me all these years. Though I thank you for the offer.”
Lady Dashlund’s jaw dropped and Ella caught the faintest of smiles upon Lacey’s lips as she headed down the corridor. Jillian had been jeering Lacey all morning with her snide comments about her clumsiness. It will be a nice day indeed to put Jillian in her place.
Ella smiled—today would be the most perfect day.
***
ANTHONY WISHED THIS CARRIAGE would go faster. The beginnings of the ball were torturous enough, but to have to wait ages before he could see his Ella again was going to destroy him. He had left specific instructions with Zedekiah to look after Miss Dashlund and see that her sister Jillian was not anywhere around her. It had taken several bribes and his favorite sword to convince the duke to attach himself to Lacey, but in the end he did.
So far everything had gone smoothly, as Ella had said it would. She was positive it was Jillian who was the culprit for Lacey’s mishaps. And by the sullen look upon the younger Miss Dashlund’s face when he left, it would seem Ella was right.
He asked the footman to wait by the carriage when they arrived, wanting to go to the door himself. As he rang, his hands shook and he quickly placed them behind his back so she would not notice. Tonight had to run smoothly. He had orchestrated it so the whole day would be a series of surprises for her—beginning with the gown and ending with—
“Well, hello!” she gasped as she opened the door.
His heart speed began to triple. He had never seen her look so exquisite before. From her bedecked head to her pretty fan and gloves all the way to the bottom of the gown. “You are very lovely. You are quite possibly the most beautiful girl in the world,” he said as he bowed over her gloved hand as a gentleman.
She bit her lip, her eyes sparking up at him. “You look fine as well.”
“So you did not wait for a servant to answer the door?”
“Oh, no, and miss seeing you the first moment I could? Of course not!”
He laughed and held his arm out. “Would you like to come, milady? Your carriage awaits.”
“I would love to.” She grinned and stepped out of the house, clutching his arm.
“I am happy to see the gown fit you so well. It is remarkable.”
She chuckled. “Yes, it is. And it is a good thing I am somewhat skilled with the needle as well.”
“Oh, dear, did you have to take it in?”
“Just a bit, here or there. But really, Anthony, it is so stunning, so absolutely the most glorious thing I have ever owned, you did not need to.”
“Yes, I did.”
“No.”
“Ella, my dear, there is one thing you shall get used to and that is—if you are going to be on my arm, you will not wear someone’s castaways. You will have your own new finery to prance about in.”
“Prance! As if I prance.” She giggled.
“Well, you may not prance at the moment, but…” He opened the carriage door. “I have a few slippers for you to try on first which may make you change your mind.”