Cinders & Ash: A Cinderella Story (Passion-Filled Fairy Tales Book 3) (16 page)

Ella wasn’t sure what to do now. This was a huge problem. She’d initially thought the Prince’s Ball was the perfect time to leave her stepmother. Only now this ball had changed everything. It had made Lady Kenna think one of her daughters had a chance with the Prince. It had made Lady Kenna delay things with Angleton. It had jeopardized Marigold’s future.

And now Lord Angleton wanted to talk to her. At the ball. That’s what Marigold had said. She said she’d run into Lord Angleton this morning at the market as they made last-minute ball purchases. He’d seen Marigold with her sister and mother and waited until she separated with them to talk to her. Lord Angleton had confirmed to Marigold that Charles indeed loved her. However, Lord Angleton would not be made a fool of by Lady Kenna. He wanted to talk to the one person he felt he could trust: Ella. He told Marigold that if she wanted a chance at marrying Charles, Ella had to talk to him at the prince’s ball.

“I’m not going to the ball,” Ella had told Marigold.

But then Marigold had said the one thing that made Ella realize she must help. “My mother was going to do it. She was going to agree until she saw that drawing you made of me. I didn’t ask you to make it or to give it to Lord Angleton. But you did. And that’s why my marriage isn’t set. You owe this to me, Ella. You’ve got to go the ball and talk to him.”

Ella wanted to say she couldn’t, to explain that she was going to leave. There was a wagon bringing some girls from the outer edge of the kingdom to the ball. She’d arranged to leave on the wagon heading back after the ball. She was going to leave and get far away. She didn’t think she’d have time to return home and get the belongings she needed if she went to the ball and spoke to Uncle Bart.

She would’ve said no. She would’ve made up some excuse for why Marigold’s request was ridiculous, but she couldn’t because Marigold was right. As much as Ella hated to admit it, her secret act that she thought would help Marigold and also stick it to Bathilda had ended up hurting Marigold. This
was
her fault. Her decision to give into feelings of spite toward Bathilda had caused this, and she owed it to Marigold to fix it.

“I will ask your mother if I can go,” Ella said.

Marigold smiled. “She said you can go, Ella,” Marigold said quickly. “You just have to finish your chores and get something to wear.”

Ella gave her a grim stare.

“I’ll help you finish your chores,” Marigold said, and Ella’s jaw just about dropped to the floor. Marigold must really want this. “Look in your trunk with your mother’s old clothing. See if there is something in there to wear. I will help you, just please, please help me with Lord Angleton.”

Ella had never seen Mari this desperate and something about that resonated with Ella. It seemed Marigold really did love Charles. Maybe they were like the feelings she had for Ash. If she needed someone’s help to be with Ash, wouldn’t she want that person to give it? “Alright Mari,” Ella said. “We’ll do this together, but you have to get your mother to follow through on her promise, and then I’ll do my best to get Lord Angleton to see that your mother isn’t trying to humiliate him or otherwise playing games, even though she is.”

Marigold hugged Ella. “Thank you, thank you.”

Ashton had decided one thing. He wanted Cinderella back, but he wanted her to come back because she believed in him. He called Heinrich and told him to go fetch Ella’s friend Faye. Then he sent a servant to find Gertrude.

When Gertrude arrived, he closed the door and bade her to come closer so they could speak without fear of being overheard.

“You know, I trust you implicitly,” he said to her.

“I know, sire,” she said, her voice patient, yet curious.

“I have a task for you that requires the utmost speed and discretion. You can tell no one why you are doing the task, including my parents. You must promise me you won’t tell them anything I say to you right now.”

Gertrude took a step back and stared at him, curiosity alighting her face. She nodded.

“You remember the girl you assisted with the salve?”

She nodded again.

“Her name is Cinderella, and I love her,” he said. “I plan to choose her as my bride tonight.”

Gertrude smiled, bright and wide, softening her face, which normally appeared gruff to the casual observer. “What can I do to help?”

“She needs a dress. One that is beautiful and will dazzle. And the mask. It should be painted blue and shaped like a butterfly.”

Gertrude grimaced. “The ball is tonight.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I came to you. You’ve seen her size and are an expert seamstress.”

Gertrude was still grimacing.

“And you’re the only one I know who uses fairy magic.”

Now her face morphed into a wide grin again, and she let out a soft howl of laughter. “So, now you believe me about fairy magic?”

He smiled back at her and shook his head. “Not really,” he said. “But if you pull this off, I will.”

“A little fairy magic and one perfect outfit coming up,” Gertrude said with a wink. “By the way, I’m a whiz with shoes.” With that she turned and flitted away.

* * *

Ella had asked her stepmother several times that day if she would be able to go to the ball
if
she finished her chores and Lady Kenna assured her she would. She wasn’t quite sure she believed Lady Kenna was sincere, but she knew Marigold would do everything in her power to make sure her mother kept her word.

Marigold had been less helpful with the chores. She’d sneak off for a minute or two to help, but then got called back by her mother or Bathilda. Not to mention that Marigold also had to get ready for the ball and wanted to look nice. She knew Lord Angleton would be in attendance, and was hoping to see Charles there, too. Even though Mari wasn’t helping as she was supposed to, it did hearten Ella that her stepsister was excited to see her beau. Maybe Cinders and Ash had been a failure, but perhaps Mari and Charles would end up being a happily ever after couple.

Ash. Oh my. Ella hadn’t even thought of that. After she talked to Lord Angleton, maybe she could see Ash. And she wanted to see him. Even at a distance. Or maybe they could share just one dance. She shook her head. He probably hated her and was mad at her for the way she left. And he’d be right. Entirely right to be angry. But still, part of her daydreamed.

She needed to stop. She had chores to do. She worked quickly and efficiently, pushing out of her head all thoughts of Ash and everything else but helping Marigold. Marigold was the only person in the household who had been even remotely kind to Ella, and she was not going to let her down. As miserable as her years since her father’s death had been, she did not think she could have survived it in as good spirits if everyone had hated her. While Mari hadn’t been entirely affectionate, she had been a person who hadn’t hated Ella. And that had meant a lot, even though it was a small grace.

By the time Ella had finished all her chores, including a supper she had only gotten to taste while cooking, rather than eat, it was getting dark. The carriage would be there soon. She ran upstairs to see if she could find something presentable to wear. When she got to her room, she found a beautiful dress on her bed and a small note on top of it.

Found this in your trunk. Think it was your mother’s. Looks classic, so it shouldn’t seem too out of style. Please hurry. And thank you again.

—M

“Oh, Marigold,” she whispered. This might work, she thought as she changed into the gown, a cream-colored satin confection with a large skirt that made her feel like a princess. It was a pretty dress, but it wasn’t so gorgeous that she would upstage Marigold or Bathilda. Ella slipped into it quickly and went over to the mirror. Her hair was still in two braids and she looked fairly simple. She thought it was too plain for the ball. While she didn’t want to do anything to upset Lady Kenna or Bathilda, she also didn’t want to look like she didn’t fit in at all. She took out the braids, which left her hair with a wavy consistency. That looked better. It wasn’t one of the fancy styles that the other women of the household had chosen. Lady Kenna was tying both Bathilda and Marigold’s hair in up dos, and leaving two curls drooping down on each side of their heads. On Marigold, it looked well enough, but on Bathilda, it seemed to accentuate her girth. Not that girth was bad; Faye was probably as wide as Bathilda, but Faye smiled and laughed and was friendly, and that seemed to make her look attractive in ways that Bathilda never did.

Ella nodded at herself and was about to rush down the stairs when she realized she had no nice shoes. All her shoes were heavy wooden things that were unattractive. But she’d seen some fancy sateen slippers in the old trunk and quickly dug through to the bottom. There they were, a leather bottom, but soft and sateen on the top and a flower stitched at the toe. They were pretty. And they were tiny, too. She and her mother both had tiny feet. As a child, she’d always thought her mother’s feet inordinately small, so she wondered if she’d fit them. She gingerly slipped one shoe onto her foot. It took a finger to pull and stretch it at the back to get her foot in, but it fit. It was snug, but the fabric of the shoe felt fairly malleable. She put the other one on and then ran downstairs. She heard a horse whinny just as she reached the bottom of her tower. She’d just make it.

She ran through the door, breathless and into the main room of the house, where Marigold was dragging behind. Bathilda was at the door opening it and Lady Kenna was chastising Marigold for moving so slowly.

“I’m here,” Ella said, rushing out. “I’m ready to go to the ball, stepmother.”

Marigold turned to look at her, relief washing over her face. But then Mari pinched up her nose and said, “Do hurry, Ella. That old dress will have to do. The Prince will be too polite to laugh at you, but do sit far away from us.”

Ella nodded. Marigold was certainly doing her part to make sure that Lady Kenna viewed Ella as a pest, rather than competition. Marigold turned and walked toward the door, but Bathilda stood there, staring and so did Lady Kenna.

“Where did you get that dress?” Lady Kenna asked.

“It was my mother’s,” Ella replied. “A few of her old things are in the trunk in my room.” Lady Kenna was looking Ella over from head to toe, scrutinizing her. “I know the dress is old fashioned, but I’d still like to come. I promise not to be near you. I wouldn’t want my outdated appearance to reflect poorly on you.”

Lady Kenna walked over to Ella and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Ella tensed, as Lady Kenna almost never touched her. “My dear,” she said. “This gown is not fit to be worn to a brothel, let alone a ball.”

Ella’s mouth dropped open. The dress was a little old fashioned, but not that bad. She was about to speak when Lady Kenna grabbed at the puffy sleeve and yanked it so hard that Ella almost fell. Ella regained her balance and was for the most part unscathed. The dress was not so lucky. The sleeve had ripped clean off.

“Mother,” Marigold said, her eyes wide with shock and anger. “You ripped her dress.”

Lady Kenna smiled and motioned Bathilda over. The girl seemed to know exactly what her mother wanted, for she lunged at Ella, who took a step back, but not far enough, as Bathilda grabbed hold of the skirt and gave a mighty tug to the ground. Again, Ella heard a tearing noise. It hadn’t helped that she’d pulled away from Bathilda. It had made the tear worse, but Ella was so shocked by their behavior that she just wanted to get away.

Lady Kenna helped Bathilda, who’d fallen in the tug, off the floor and told her daughters to go to the carriage. Ella backed away from her stepmother, unwilling to turn her back on Lady Kenna. With hatred in her eyes, Lady Kenna walked toward Ella, forcing Ella to continue her backwards march until she bumped into the door to her upstairs tower. Lady Kenna stared at her, eyes so cold, Ella thought she might freeze if she stared into them too long.

“I know what you’ve been doing at night,” Lady Kenna said

Ella crinkled her brow, wondering what Lady Kenna meant. If she really could know.

“You’re nothing but a whore,” she said. “I know that you’ve been sneaking off to the castle to whore yourself to a cousin of the prince. But you won’t be showing your face around there, sullying the reputation of my daughters.”

Ella kept her mouth clamped shut, even though she yearned to have answers. Who had told her that? It had started that way, but that wasn’t what she and Ash were. So, how did she know? Who had told her these things?

“Get in there,” Lady Kenna said, pointing toward the tower. “You’re staying in here tonight.”

Ella turned and opened the door. She went inside the tower and turned back to look at Lady Kenna.

“You’re wondering how I know,” her stepmother said. “I have my ways little Ella. You were probably too busy with your chores and helping your sisters to notice the man I had come early this morning to board up your little escape hatch. You will go nowhere tonight, or any other night without my permission.”

Lady Kenna pushed the door closed. Ella moved forward too late and heard the key turn in the lock as she tried to push it open. The door didn’t budge. Ella banged and pushed it, but it didn’t move. She banged on the door more, but received no response. She ran toward her tiny escape door, noting there were fresh boards applied to the outside. She used both hands to press on the boards, hoping to dislodge them, but it didn’t work. She angled her body so she was putting all her weight into moving the boards, but they didn’t yield. Lady Kenna had somehow got it sealed without her knowledge. She was trapped. She pushed again. Nothing. She had to get out of here. She just had to. She’d stayed to help Marigold, but she’d still planned to escape. Only, Lady Kenna was right. Ella could go nowhere.