Once Upon a Romance 01 - Before the Midnight Bells (4 page)

When Ella was very young, so young she could barely remember, she had been out playing in her gardens one day when an older woman with snow white hair and a warm smile came and sat near her on a bench. They had played a game—making fairy hats out of tulips and garments out of leaves—and then Ella had asked this woman who she was. The response had been unexpected. “I’m Dame Merriweather, dear. I’m your Godmother.”

Ella had never had any kind of mother before that, at least, not one that she remembered.
She was delighted at meeting a Godmother, especially one so regal in her bearing, and so elegant in her dress and manners. Her long, tapered fingers were clever at dressing dolls or soothing scrapes; and her aristocratic features could look exceedingly kind when she smiled on her tiny Goddaughter.

Over the years, Dame Merriweather had told her the story of her long-gone mother
—
how they had been friends for years, and how the Dame had promised that she would help look after Ella. Through Dame Merriweather, Ella had grown to know her real mother, and also had gained an excellent Godmother, always there to lend love and support to her Godchild. At that first meeting, though, the Dame had told her very little, just that Ella’s father didn’t much approve of her mother’s old friend, and that, for now at least, Ella should keep this meeting just between the two of them.

Somehow Ella never did end up telling her father about the Dame. Perhaps if she had known that her father was marrying to provide her with a mother she would have been tempted, but as it was, her friendship with the Dame had been… not secret, no, merely never spoken of. Ella would take the footpaths through Forest Row to see her Godmother whenever she wished, and, once in a while, Dame Merriweather would come to Ella in her own garden—always when Ella was alone, and always, after the first time, when Ella needed her. She came the day that Ella’s first pet, a tabby cat named Purrbles, went missing, and she came the day that Ella found out she was gaining a new stepmother. She had never come to Ella’s new home across town, but after Ella’s father died she had sent a letter to Millicent, introducing herself and begging permission for Ella to come visit regularly. Millicent had seen no harm in the connection, and over the years Ella had always been free to visit her Godmother when the Dame’s carriage had been sent round for her.

This time, though, she arrived on foot, and out of breath.

Ella flung herself into the morning room where Dame Merriweather was taking tea. Before the Dame could rise or even offer a greeting Ella was kneeling at her feet, sobbing into her Godmother’s lap. She felt a gentle hand smoothing her hair, a soothing, repetitive motion that comforted and calmed her. When she finally lifted her tear
-
stained face, the Dame was looking at her tenderly.

“
Tell me, darling.”

“
Millicent has all but lost the house.” Ella’s tears threatened to rise again as she spoke the awful words aloud. She didn’t expect the Dame’s reaction.

“
Why, but that’s marvelous! You can come and live with me!”

The delight in Dame Merriweather’s face suddenly brought forth an answering mirth in Ella. Perhaps all was lost, but the Dame could find a bright side to anything.

“
Godmother, I don’t think you’d enjoy living with Millicent Emberton.” Ella spoke the words impishly as she dashed tears from her face.

“
Perish the thought, you naughty girl, you know I didn’t mean her, too.”

“
True, but Godmother,” abruptly Ella sobered again, “I couldn’t leave them to the poor house and move in here. It wouldn’t be right.”

“
Surely that woman has relatives somewhere. She must. Giddy gaddy people always have scads of relatives hidden away somewhere. She can move to the countryside with them, whoever they are.”

“
No, Godmother,” Ella tilted her chin in a willful manner. “However flighty they may be, my father chose them to be my family, and I will not abandon them. A leisurely lifestyle in the country is all very well and good, but being a poor woman living on her relatives’ charity is…not. Beatrice and Prudence shouldn’t have to feel like cast-off refuse, just because their mother is a…” Ella saw the Dame’s little smirk. “That was very sneaky of you, Godmother.”

“
Why, thank you, dear. I’ve always found a good stiff prod in the morals can get a person thinking again instead of bemoaning her fate.”

“
I’m afraid I’m still not thinking well. My mind is going in circles.”

“
Has it occurred to you that perhaps this isn’t your problem to solve?”

“
What do you mean, Godmother?”

“
I mean, darling, that you take entirely too much upon yourself. This ought to be Millicent’s responsibility, not yours. She is the head of your household, is she not? And
she
is the one who plunged you all into this ridiculous predicament, is she not? Why is it
your
obligation to deal with it?
”

Ella sighed. “I can’t just sit back. Prudence and Beatrice can’t take care of themselves, they don’t have the slightest idea of how to do
anything.
And Millicent’s solutions are often worse than the problems themselves.”

“
Well, how
is
Millicent planning on solving the problem?”

“
She isn’t. She’s trusting on us all to make brilliant matches, whereupon our money problems will magically disappear in a puff of smoke.” Ella spoke wryly.

“
As much as I loathe saying this, she may have a point.”

“
What?!”

“
Don’t fly off the handle, darling, I don’t mean you. Consider the difficulty, however, and look at the solution objectively. If both your stepsisters married, they would have their own households, yes?”

“
Well, yes.”

“
And Millicent, as their mother, would obviously be welcomed into either household, correct?”

“
Mmmm… indeed.”

“
And presumably, paying for all their extravagant amusements would be the province of the poor sods—I mean, the lucky gents who married them.”

Ella laughed aloud. “You really do have a wicked tongue, Godmother.”

“
Darling, you have no idea.”

***

On Low Street, the local children played an endless game of tag. Their shrieks and giggles filtered through to
Ella as she sat at the counter in her shop, staring at the broad expanse of the work surface. She thought as hard as she could, but she couldn’t find a flaw in her Godmother’s plan. Beatrice and Prudence actually
wanted
to get married, and with husbands and homes of their own they would be secure, even if the Emberton townhouse was lost. Ella found it difficult to admit, but Millicent was probably right
:
the balls would be excellent times for husband hunting. Now if she could just do her part, and provide her stepsisters with costumes fit to snag a prince—or at least a nice wealthy gentleman…

Ella heard the bell over her shop door tinkle. A harried-looking woman with a wealth of fiery red hair came marching into the shop.

“
Please tell me you’re taking rush orders!” Ella was startled, but answered calmly enough.

“
Of course, my lady.”

“
Hah! If I were a “my lady,” one of the large design houses would make time to cobble me together a costume for the first ball. I’m just a “Madam,” and as such I have been trying every dress shop on Low
S
treet, looking for one still willing to take orders.”

“
Well, I’m pleased that you’ve found me.”

“
As am I. Come on, girl, come measure me and give me your thoughts on a suitable rig. You haven’t a moment to spare.”

The words were prophetic. Madam Fire Hair was the first of three new patrons that came in that afternoon, all looking for rush costumes for the first ball. Ella was pleased with the new work, but when she thought of all that had to be done in a week she groaned. First things first, however. She was going to have to pay for the materials for all these costumes, somehow.

The shop front was long and narrow, and in the rear behind a curtain was her fitting area. Ella drifted down the aisle to the back, where a beautiful full length mirror hung on the wall. The mirror had belonged to her mother, and Ella often sat and thought while staring into it. When she was a girl, after Dame Merriweather began to tell her of her mother, she would hold long conversations with the glass, pretending her mother sat on just the other side.

T
oday the
mirror reflected her form back at her. Ella saw the stray wisps of chestnut hair trailing trailing from her careful coiffure, doubtless blown free in her hurried trip across town. Her brows drew together over worried, brown eyes, and her face looked tight and pinched. Her small shoulders hunched in, while her tiny hands twisted nervously. A portrait of a young woman in distress.

“
What can I sell, Mamma?” While she spoke Ella absently ran her fingers over the frame. The silver filigree was twisted into vines and leaves that framed small scenes from a popular fable. Ella’s favorite scene was one near the top of the mirror, where the beautiful young girl steps through her own looking glass and into a world of enchantment.

“
None of the things made by Millicent or the girls are worth that much, and I’ve already sold all the little knickknacks we had that would fetch any price at all.” It had been hard taking the small, beautiful items—left over from the time when her father was alive—and selling them to the pawn broker; but Ella had done it. Now she only wished she had kept something in reserve. Something that could buy her the materials to sew her sisters out of this mess.

Millicent would never agree to selling the furniture. The things they never used—such as the more esoteric cooking equipment—were old and worn, and beginning to rust. Her wardrobe had no value, her belongings were all second or third-hand already, she needed her stock to continue her business—

Her fingers caught on a tiny silver thorn amidst the roses, and her attention was drawn back to the fine silver
work. It really was a magnificent mirror…

It really
was
a magnificent mirror.

A valuable mirror.

Ella started to shake her head. Not this. But she knew it was the answer she had been looking for. This mirror was well made and beautifully framed. It would fetch a pretty sum if she sold it, enough to buy materials for these orders
and
pay the papermakers. Ella knew in her gut what she had to do, but it was hard—so hard. For just a moment she laid her cheek against the smooth polished surface.