“Cinderella, you look like an angel!” Matilda exclaimed.
Ella blushed and said, “You look nice too.”
“The prince will not be able to resist you!”
“I do not want to hear such talk,” I said. “Ella will behave like the proper noblewoman she has been brought up to be. I want all three of you to stay near me tonight.” I lightly tapped the tip of Ella’s nose. “You in particular, young lady.”
Ella nodded submissively.
“I do not want any of you to gorge yourselves on sweetmeats. Take small portions of any food offered to you, and eat it daintily. Do you remember all of the proper titles of address?”
“Yes, Mother,” they answered together.
“Even if you are not yet tired, I do not want anybody to beg to stay late. It isn’t proper for young, unmarried women to be the last to leave. We will depart before the mid-night repast.”
All three murmured their assent.
“Ella, Lady Rohesia will meet you in the foyer; wait for her there. Charlotte and Matilda, our carriage is ready. Come with me.”
I turned back to Ella. “You really do look magnificent, dearheart.”
She smiled at me sweetly and said, “Thank you, Mother Bear.”
21
The Ball
I had visited Cothay Manor twice before, but it looked different on this occasion. Short walls of lattice had been erected on both sides of the road leading to the manor, and these were decorated with flowers and woven grass. A great rose bower covered the arch of the gate, and torches lined the walkway and staircase to the entrance. Towering over the torches were flagstaffs; a soft breeze nudged the banners open, showing rich hues in the evening light. The vivid scarlet-and-gold standard of the royal family was interspersed with banners belonging to other families, and the royal flag was also draped over the imposing iron doors of the manor.
We alighted from our carriage well before reaching the rose bower. I instructed the driver, our head stableboy, to come back after the ringing of the compline bell and wait in the same place until we returned.
As we waited for Ella and Lady Rohesia to arrive, Charlotte and Matilda looked about in wonder. Horses broke into a smart canter as they approached the arch of white roses; when the coaches came to a halt, footmen jumped down to help the ladies descend. Brightly colored skirts peeked from carriage doors, then billowed like flowers unfurling their petals as the ladies stepped out, tugging layers of finery with them. In the light of the golden sun that hung low on the horizon, a glittering stream of guests mounted the stairs and disappeared through the dark entrance of Cothay Manor.
By the time Ella finally arrived, the stream of guests had ebbed to a trickle. Though we were not familiar with the approaching carriage, we recognized Ella’s milky hand holding her favorite kerchief out the window; as it fluttered, she twisted it, flashing the green and silver sides of the fabric so that it looked like a minnow swimming through the air.
Abbess Elfilda had provided her goddaughter with a royal coach, a bulbous and heavily gilded contrivance with enormous, improbably slender wheels. Its pale sheen reflected the orange-and-pink sunset as the team of white horses pulled up to the archway. The footman helped Lady Rohesia down first. I waved, and the lady nodded slightly to acknowledge my gesture. She started up the staircase without waiting for Ella to emerge, letting me know that her duties as matron had been discharged.
Charlotte and Matilda hurried to the side of the coach; they reached out to touch its smooth surface and cooed admiringly as Ella stepped down. The three of them giggled at something Matilda said in a low voice and would have rushed up the stairs without me if I had not stopped them.
“Decorum, please, girls!”
Reluctantly, they quieted and adjusted their postures. We mounted the stairs and crossed the threshold into the torchlit screens passage. The din of voices and music greeted us, and Ella cringed at the noise. She was the first to reach the opening to the great hall, however, and she stepped boldly through. In the light of chandeliers and torches, the glass beads on her gown came alive with fire, and her golden hair shone brightly. Women standing under the minstrels’ gallery turned to stare and poked their companions to do the same. I put my hand on Ella’s shoulder and guided her toward the seats at the edge of the great hall. Heads swiveled in Ella’s direction, while my daughters and I passed unnoticed in her wake.
We sat in the shadows against the wall. The great hall at Cothay Manor was at least four times as large as the hall at Aviceford, and much better appointed. Ivy and flowers decorated the walls, tables, and dais. Upon the dais, the high table was draped with scarlet cloth, and silver dishes were piled with breads and sweetmeats. At the center of the table sat a handsome young man; I presumed him to be the prince. He had dark hair, as Gisla had described, and an aristocratic nose. His black eyebrows were arched in an expression of boredom. He bent his head to speak with another young man to his right; they both laughed and raised their goblets to each other. A page clad in the king’s scarlet and gold hovered nearby with a flask, waiting for his opportunity to refill their cups.
I had never seen a member of the royal family before. I expected to feel a thrill, a frisson of reverence when I beheld him, but he was just a man sitting at a table, nothing more. It surprised me to find him quite ordinary.
To the prince’s left sat Mother Elfilda, her back rigid, her gaze resting politely on an object proffered by a bejeweled neighbor. In her black habit, the abbess looked small and faded. I wondered whether Mother Elfilda would gain the advantage she sought from the ball.
The nobility seated at the high table ignored the crowd as though an invisible wall separated them from the rest of the gathering. In the center of the hall, men and women bobbed and twirled in time to the music. I had never properly learned to dance, but I found it enchanting, the swirling silks, the graceful bows, the harmony of movement. I recognized few of the dancers; judging by their clothing, many guests had traveled from the city. Even the vast holdings of Ellis Abbey did not include enough wealthy families to populate a royal ball.
The girls tapped their feet and looked about eagerly. Charlotte and Matilda whispered to each other. The minstrels struck up a lively carole, and the dancers formed a ring.
“May we join, Mother?” Matilda asked, her eyes shining.
I smiled and nodded. Ella clapped her hands and jumped to her feet.
“Calmly,” I said. “Remember your manners.”
The three girls joined the merry circle. Ella seemed oblivious to admiring gazes; she hopped and skipped blithely with the chain of dancers, a bright smile on her face. When the song ended, several hopeful young men dogged her heels, but their schemes were interrupted by an announcement from the dais. The lord of Cothay Manor, a rotund, red-faced bull of a man, invited his guests to greet the prince.
A commotion erupted as women near the high table jostled to form a queue. The more elegant visitors watched the rush of locals with disgust. I put my arm out to signal Charlotte, Matilda, and Ella to stay seated beside me.
“But we want to meet the prince too!” Charlotte whispered.
“You may join the queue in time.”
“Now?” asked Matilda a moment later.
“Wait.”
Mother Elfilda had disappeared from the dais, leaving the chair next to the prince unoccupied. The lord of Cothay Manor stood behind the empty chair, tapping his fingers on the back, looking unsure about whether to seat himself or remain standing.
Matilda pulled on my sleeve. “Now can we go?”
The line of people waiting to greet the prince had settled, and the minstrels played a quiet tune.
“Very well. Come with me.”
The queue snaked beside a table laden with ale, pastries, and bowls of exotic fruit. Ella picked up one of the strange-looking orbs and explained to Charlotte and Matilda that it was an orange from Aragon; she had eaten them during her visit to the royal court. Ella peeled the fruit and handed piece
s to her stepsisters, who exclaimed that the flavor was marvelous. Matilda shared hers with me; the tanginess startled me, which caused her to laugh.
It did not take long for us to reach the front of the line. As the young woman in front of us curtsied low before the dais, the prince slumped forward and leaned his jaw on his hand as though it cost him effort to stay awake. The moment he saw Ella, however, his countenance changed. Like a wolf spotting a lamb, the prince smoothly lifted his handsome head, his gaze suddenly alert and hungry.
I began to introduce our party, but the prince interrupted.
“I know for certain that we have never met before, because I have never seen anyone so ravishing,” he said to Ella. “What should I call you?”
Ella finished her curtsy, and when she stood, her cheeks were flushed. Her hands twisted behind her back. The heat and intensity in the prince’s dark eyes caused me to squirm also, though for a different reason.
“Cinderella,” she murmured, to my great surprise.
The prince smiled. “Cinderella, will you dance with me?”
I found the lack of formality in the prince’s manner peculiar, but he seemed to put Ella at ease. She nodded happily. The lord of the manor, still monitoring the proceedings, called to the minstrels to play dancing music. Several people still waited in line to greet the prince, but he was blind to them. The prince did not even acknowledge Charlotte or Matilda, who kept their heads bowed respectfully. He jumped lightly down from the dais and kissed Ella’s hand.
A stillness descended over the guests when the prince leapt to Ella’s side.
“She is so beautiful!” they whispered, and, “Who is she?”
Ella and the prince danced, oblivious to their audience. While Ella was not the most polished dancer, her partner guided her expertly. She was pure light in his arms, a glittering, dazzling sliver of sunshine, a seraph. I was as transfixed as the strangers around me.
When the dance ended, the prince kept Ella for another, and then another. Guests joined the quadrille or returned to wine and conversation. Charlotte and Matilda waited in vain for another carole so that they might join the dancing without the necessity of a partner. None of the men approached them.
The evening wore on, and I thought that the prince would never tire of dancing, but then I saw him escort Ella through an opening in the screens passage. My heart thundered as I hurried after them. Ella would be easy prey for any man, and a prince would be used to taking what he wanted.
The air was fresher in the passage, and the torches wavered in a draught from the open door. Ella’s warbling laughter drifted in on the breeze. The knot in my belly loosened as I realized that they had probably gone outside for some cool air.
When I approached the threshold, I could see the prince, facing away from me, leaning casually against a stone plinth. Ella’s upturned face glowed in the torchlight. Strands of hair had pulled loose from her braids, and her cheeks were pink. The dishevelment only made her more beautiful. The adoration and elation that radiated from her lovely features stirred a dark memory.
I watched them uncertainly until the prince pulled Ella close and bent to kiss her, and then I coughed loudly. I stepped out of the doorway, feigning surprise.
“Why, there you are, my dear!” I pretended to have recognized the prince just when he turned around, and I curtsied reverentially. “Your Highness.”
Ella glared at me, and Prince Henry regarded me blankly.
“We were just going back inside to dance!” Ella’s voice was shrill.
Before I could say anything further, she ran through the door. The prince followed without a glance in my direction. I curtsied again anyway.
True to her word, Ella danced with Prince Henry. Every time the music stopped, the prince shouted for another quadrille. The couple was lost in their own world; they had no care for anyone else. The revelers grew restless, waiting for a more lively tune, and young women grumbled that the prince should not restrict himself to only one partner.
Watching a beautiful girl dance with the prince could not hold the attention of the crowd all night. Clusters of gossiping women and drunken men grew raucous and disorderly. The high table was abandoned, and the most fashionable guests melted away. Charlotte and Matilda shifted glumly on their bench or played word games. I sent them to fetch wine just to keep them occupied.
While the servants prepared the great hall for the mid-night repast, the minstrels took a well-deserved break. I saw my chance to extricate Ella when the prince bowed and walked briskly out the doorway behind the dais. Ella lingered in the center of the floor, no doubt waiting for her prince to return. I told Charlotte and Matilda that it was time to go home, and they looked relieved.
I knew that Ella would be unhappy to leave, but I did not anticipate the stubbornness with which she greeted me. She knew immediately why we were descending upon her, and before I said anything, she said, “I am not leaving!”
“We already talked about this, Ella. It is time to go.”
“I am waiting for Prince Henry!”
“You have made a spectacle of yourself already. It is time to go home.”
“I shan’t leave without saying good night to Prince Henry!”
“You have had plenty of time to say good night, and you should have excused yourself long ago.”
I grabbed Ella by the sleeve of her gown and pulled her toward the screens passage. Charlotte and Matilda complained that they were weary and ready for sleep. At first, Ella came docilely, but just as we left the great hall, she pulled roughly away, and her sleeve tore.
“Now see what you have done!” she said.
“Keep your voice down,” I hissed. “We shall fix it later. Now come along.”
“I shan’t go with you!”
I wondered if she had drunk too much wine. Not knowing what else to do, I took Ella by the arm again and propelled her through the passageway and out the main entrance. Charlotte and Matilda trotted after us. I plunged gratefully into the chill night air, believing that the worst was over, but the cold reinvigorated Ella; she wrestled savagely from my loosening grasp at the top of the stairs, ripping another seam of her gown. One of her glass-beaded shoes fell off, and she picked it up in her hand.
“You don’t own me!” Her voice cracked with the threat of tears. “I don’t have to do as you say. You are not my mother! My mother is dead, and you took my father from me, and now he is dead too, and you are . . .” Tears streamed down her face. “You are simply wicked! I don’t care if you are my stepmother, leave me alone!” She pulled her arm back in a swift motion and threw her slipper at me with startling strength. Fortunately, her aim was poor, and the shoe merely grazed my ear. It smashed into the glazed window behind me, and one of the panes fell out with a crash.
Ella’s hand flew to cover her mouth in dismay, and then she fled, abandoning her other shoe on the staircase.
“What is wrong with her?” Matilda exclaimed.
“Just one of her tantrums,” Charlotte said with disgust.
Both girls descended the stairs after Ella, but I remained rooted in place, shaken. Ella’s tranquil disposition had always been complicated by uncontrolled outbursts, but I had never known her to be violent. My stomach turned as I thought of her mother’s rages.
Crisp footsteps warned me of approaching men, but I did not turn until one of them spoke.
“Where did she go?” The prince sounded puzzled and disappointed. He was flanked by two pages clad in royal livery; in his hand, he held the shoe that had fallen to the stones behind me.
After the required obeisance I said, “She ran away, Your Highness.”
He furrowed his brow. His features were patrician, but his expression vacuous. “Why would she do such a thing?”
I had interpreted the intensity of the prince’s attention to Ella as predatory, but that did not match the guilelessness of his speech.
“I do not know, Your Highness.”
“I must see her again. Where can I find her?�
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An absence of wit or command in his words and bearing made his handsome face less appealing.
“Why do you wish to see her, sire?”
I was rude to ask the question, and I deserved a rebuke, but instead he said, “I love her, and I wish to marry her.”
The statement was so outlandish that I nearly laughed.
“Can you tell me where to find her?” he continued, ignoring the incredulity that must have been written on my features. “I saw you with her earlier tonight.”
There had been a cretin in our village when I was young, a man with a perfectly sound body but the mind of a child. The look in the prince’s eyes reminded me of that man. I felt queasy and tired.
“She was an acquaintance of my daughter’s from the city, Your Highness,” I said with a curtsy. “I am sure that you will see her at court.”
As I rushed down the stairs, the sparkle of Ella’s abandoned shoe caught my eye, but I did not stop. I wished only to put the evening behind us.
I found the girls waiting in our carriage. Ella sniffled; her eyes were puffy and her skin blotched. Most of her hair had come undone. Charlotte and Matilda sat on either side of their stepsister, patting her arms soothingly. They muttered consoling words, but annoyance was evident in their voices and postures.
Ella refused to look at me when I climbed into the coach. I sat opposite, saying nothing. Her little hands, like white spiders on her knees, her dirty feet, her slumped shoulders, her blank face, these held no charm for me. My mind was in tumult, my heart a stone.
We rode in silence. As we neared home, I knew that I should speak, but my tongue was lifeless. Weariness and sadness sapped my will. It would be over soon, one way or another. Mother Elfilda would find a husband for Ella, and I would be thrown once more on God’s mercy.
My face grew hot and my eyes watered. I slid to the window and pretended to peer into the darkness. Charlotte and Matilda did not need to see my distress. I would find a way to protect them as I always had. I would beg the abbess to take them as novices, and if she would not, as servants. I might find a husband for Charlotte. The right sort of man might not mind.
All the Ever Afters Page 29