Once Upon a Romance 01 - Before the Midnight Bells (5 page)

“
I’m sorry Mamma. It’s the only way.” As she whispered the words a tear rolled down her face, and Ella imagined ghostly fingers brushing it away, and insubstantial lips laying a loving kiss on her cheek. Though the tears still fell, Ella felt comforted. She knew her mother would have approved.

Max took a deep breath when the steward told him the king was ready to receive him. He needed to play this just right. He carefully arranged a bewildered look on his face and followed the steward into the king’s study. Heavy oak paneling and red velvet cushions made the room seem like a miniature throne room
:
an impression that did nothing to help sooth
e Max’s nerves. He gave himself a little mental shake, and offered the king a bow in greeting.

“
You Majesty, I’ve come to ask your help.”

“
Of course Max, what’s the trouble?”

“
I’m trying to select a gift for Vivienne, but I can’t determine anything she really wants. I was hoping you might have an idea.”

The king laughed. “I
’m not sure what sort of help I can be. Normally Vivi is full of requests, but s
he’s only asked me for
one
thing over and over ever since the weather improved. She wants to go on a hunting expedition.”

“
She is quite a good shot with her bow, Majesty.”

“
Oh, yes, it’s not that, I just haven’t wanted her to be out alone with only the huntsmen to protect her.” King Regal gave him a thoughtful look. “If you like, I could send you both on a week long hunt as a wedding gift.”

Excellent. Vivi had told him the king would think of this, but he was relieved that she was right. It would have been awkward leading the king around to it. “That would be marvelous, your Majesty.” Now to bait the hook. “It doesn’t solve
my
problem, though. I am still lacking a gift for your daughter.” Max waited
.
K
nowing the king, any moment now—

“
Give her hunting gear, Max! While you’re at it, give her a sturdier horse, too. That palfrey she’s got is only good for short rides.”

“
What a wonderful suggestion, your Majesty!”

Max excused himself, feeling extremely self-satisfied. With one quick conversation he had gotten the king to instruct him to provide Vivienne with everything she would need.

***

“
Well, you were right.”

“
Of course I’m right. I’m the princess. I’m always right. Even when I’m wrong it’s your job to tell me I’m right anyway.” Vivi was arranging her hair for dinner and not really paying attention to Max, who had just dropped by. “What am I right about, again?”

“
Everything, obviously.”

Vivienne inspected herself closely in the mirror. Apparently she found nothing wrong with her raven-haired, violet-eyed perfection, so s
he heaved a mighty sigh and turned
to her friend
. “Don’t be tiresome Max, feed my ego. How have I been vindicated this particular time?”

“
Your father has instructed me to gear you for a hunting expedition.”

The princess’s teasing attitude suddenly fell away, and she laughed joyfully and gave Max a brief but enthusiastic hug. “Well done, Max! I knew you could get him to suggest it. You’re brilliant.”
“As brilliant as you?”

“
Well, almost, anyway.”

The co-conspirators grinned at each other in mischievous glee.

“
So, what color do you want your horse to be?”

“
Purple.”
“Vivi. Please.”

“
What? It’s the royal color.”

“
It won’t exactly blend with the mountain terrain.”

“
I don’t care.”

“
Also, they don’t make them in purple.”

“
They don’t?” The wide-eyed, innocent look the princess gave him made Max snigger. “Very well then, pick whatever you think best, my darling betrothed.”

“
Fine, I’ll get you a mule.”

“
A mule?” Vivienne was startled.

“
I think it will suit your temper admirably.”

“
A mule.” The princess’ eyes narrowed in irritation.

“
What? I hear they come in purple.”

Vivi dove for her cushions, and Max fled the room before she could hurl them. Her normally impassive guard gave Max a bewildered look when he heard the thuds on the door to the hallway. As the guardsman went charging into the room to check on
Vivienne’s royal well-being
, Max laughed and sauntered off, whistling a dancing tune.

Ella’s needle flashed in the lamp light as her hands drove it over and over into the heavy,
felted broadcloth
she was working on. Each night this week she had fallen into bed exhausted, only to force herself up again a few hours later with the sunrise. It had taken almost an entire day to sell the mirror and purchase cloth for all the costumes. For the last two days, Ella had let the hearths in the house grow cold and left her stepmother and stepsisters to feed themselves as they could—she’d had no time to cook for them. All of the orders had been picked up now, and Ella had spoken with each maid who came to fetch a costume, making sure that the girls all knew how they should be worn.

In the attic of the Emberton town house, Ella was finally putting the finishing touches on her family’s costumes. She looked with satisfaction at the three dress forms holding the outfits. The first ball was the Paupers’ Ball, with all the attendees dressed like
the inhabitants of
the lowest rungs of society. It was a nice conceit, though Ella suspected the nobles of the kingdom would make poverty look very clean and pretty. She had certainly done so for Beatrice, Prudence, and Millicent.

Beatrice was going to be dressed as a tavern wench, with her skirts kirted up to show her legs, her blouse scooped low to display her bosom, and a very stout leather belt cinched tight to give the illusion of more waist than that to which she was rightfully priv
ileged
. The deep burgundy and rich brown fabrics were heavy and lush; they would look marvelous on the dance floor.

Prudence had opted to be a milk maid, and Ella had spent one long night sewing enough frills onto the snowy white peasant’s blouse that even Prudence would look well endowed. The forest green skirt fell in heavy velvet folds that stopped just above the petticoat’s white lace ruffles; Prudence’s legs, bared to the calves, would be covered with delicate white stockings to which Ella had added thin green ribbons which wound around in spirals.

Millicent’s costume, though, was the true masterpiece, at least as far as Eleanor was concerned. Millicent was attending the Paupers’ Ball as a baker woman, and her dark blue gown hid an amazing number of undergarments all designed to restrain her overly generous figure. The
square neckline was cut low, allowing Millicent’s more
obvious
assets to be viewed, while the V of the waist hid many of her flaws.
The gown had sleeves that were turned up and pressed, so that Millicent’s hands—which were her only delicate and truly pretty feature—would be displayed to full advantage. Ella had rummaged among the stairwells one afternoon and found a real prize: a beautifully embroidered apron. It was left over from Millicent’s embroidery phase, and after being washed and starched it made an excellent addition to the costume.

Ella was just finishing Millicent’s hem, and then she would be done. The tastefully dark blue fabric was hard to see in the lamplight, but Ella worked on, knowing that soon she would be able to seek her bed. As she bit off the final thread, the bells of the city chimed out the hour—not so much late at night as hideously early in the morning—and Ella thought wryly that it was a good thing she was finally finished. She could sleep the day away, and then rise in the afternoon to prepare both herself and the ladies for the ball.

Prepare… herself… Ella looked wildly about the attic, as though if she looked hard enough she would find it, but her heart plummeted.

She had forgotten her own costume.

With tears of sheer exhaustion in her eyes Ella walked over to the wall and began pulling fabrics. Her bed would have to wait.

***

Ella relaxed back into the seat of the hired carriage and took a deep breath. She had finally fallen into bed mid-morning, hoping to sleep until late afternoon, but her stepsisters had roused her after only a few hours, clamoring for her assistance with their toilettes. Ella had spent two hours artfully tousling Beatrice’s hair and almost as long carefully painting her face, and in the end Beatrice resembled the ideal of tavern maidenhood. Prudence’s hair fell in two thick braids down her back, each plaited and bound with yellow and green ribbons, and Ella had woven the same ribbons in intricate knots around her face, making her look delicately pale, rather than pasty white. Even Millicent had asked Ella for her help, and Ella had enjoyed giving her stepmother a gracefully low knot in her hair and some artfully placed “flour” smudges to complete the look.

Ella was proud of what she had accomplished for her family, but even with the early start she had little time left to see to her own appearance. In the wee hours of the morning she had decided a simple shift and a large woolen wrap made an excellent costume for a matchgirl, and they only took a few hours to piece together. She added to that her own sewing basket, emptied and filled with matches, and her outfit was complete. She left her hair down and used no cosmetics, and still she was barely ready to go when the carriage arrived. It didn’t matter though; she was pleased. Her stepsisters would have every advantage her hands could provide as they trolled for husbands, and she could find an out-of-the-way corner and rest. A most satisfactory situation for everyone.

***

It seemed as though there were miles of carriages winding towards the palace grounds. Each carriage carried its own light, and they made a twinkling pathway up to the gloriously lit castle. As the Embertons
’
hired coach pulled through the massive stone gates into the courtyard, pages and squires, dressed as street urchins and buskers, directed each driver to an empty space where his passengers could disembark. Ella watched in amusement as a new group of costumed children poured into the courtyard and took over the duties there, while the young busker who had helped her descend gave a shout of glee and ran off in the direction of the music. Even the palace staff would have an opportunity to join the celebration in honor of the Princess’s betrothal.

At the entrance to the ball, a majordomo dressed as a one
-
legged beggar was announcing the guests. Each guest was announced with the same gravity, and Ella struggled to keep a straight face on hearing “Mr. Edward Treacher, the Dwimple Street Fishmonger” pronounced in grandiose tone. At the top of the grand staircase they paused to be introduced to the crowd, “Mrs. Millicent Emberton of the East Side Embertons, and her daughters, Miss Emberton, Miss Beatrice, and Miss Prudence.” Ella gasped at the sight spread out before them, and to either side she heard Beatrice and Prudence doing the same.