“No!” I said, my voice ringing with authority that Victoria had never heard. I snatched the stick out of Victoria’s hand, snapped it in two, and then threw it across the floor. “You will never strike me again.”
Victoria stood motionless for a moment, her mouth hanging open, her eyes full of fury. Then she collapsed on her bed from exhaustion and utter amazement. I turned to leave the room, but Victoria’s alarmingly cool and powerful voice stopped me.
“I hope you weren’t planning on going to the ball tomorrow tonight. You’re not going anywhere after that outrageous display,” she said calmly from her bed.
My rage still surged within me, giving me courage. “How are you going to stop me?”
“Because I am going to be there and I will see to it that you are thrown out if you so much as peek inside the gates.” And with a satisfied chuckle, she placed her head back on her pillows.
I turned my back on her, not waiting to be dismissed. I closed the door, muting Victoria’s soft laughter.
***
I STOOD IN THE HALL FOR A LONG TIME, CLUTCHING ONTO the railing that overlooked the living room—seeing nothing, feeling nothing. My hopes were dashed to pieces, but the pieces hadn’t hit the ground yet so I couldn’t grasp the impact.
As soon as Victoria spoke the words forbidding me from going to the ball, I knew she never had any intention of letting me go. She had waited for the hope to build so she could crush it at just the right moment.
I was dimly aware of the sunlight’s weakening rays moving across the faded walls. A part of me knew that I should go get my vegetables that I had left in the garden. I knew I should be bringing Lucy back into the barn. I had a million other things I should be doing, but I couldn’t make myself do them. I clung to the railing as if it was the only solid thing in my world. A chill crept into the house making my teeth chatter and my body shiver and I knew the fire in the kitchen must have died out.
After what could have been mere minutes or many hours, the front door opened and Mabel and Cecelia sauntered in the house. I didn’t even know they had been gone. They were each carrying large boxes and they went straight up to Victoria’s room. I didn’t care what was in their boxes nor did I turn to watch them enter the room behind me and close the door. I heard their squeals and cackles, but I had no desire to see what all the excitement was about.
After a while, I was assaulted by pink and yellow as Mabel and Cecelia waltzed out of Victoria’s room wearing what could only be their new ball gowns. They were so scandalously low in the neckline they looked like they would be wearing them to a brothel, not a ball.
The material was obviously expensive. There were frills and pleats and ruffles any place they could possibly be sewn in. The dresses were completely ridiculous and obnoxious, perfectly matching the personalities of their wearers, I mused without emotion. I ignored their spinning and their giggles that somehow still managed to be whiny.
I didn’t know where I was going, but found myself moving in the direction of the door at the end of the hall, the door that led to my tower. As I walked, my steps became quicker and my heart began to race. I didn’t know if the enormity of what Victoria had said to me was finally sinking in or if I just desperately needed to be away from the twirling girls. As my pace quickened, I had the awful sensation that I was being chased.
I reached the door at the end of the hall, violently threw it out of my way, and frantically raced up the stairs three at a time, grabbing the rickety banister and hurling myself forward, which resulted in slivers being shoved into my hands as I tripped over my dress and painfully slammed my body against the stairs. I reached my door and hurled it open with a crash. Suddenly I knew why I was there, and my whole body went cold and hot at the same time.
I fell to the ground and grabbed at the floorboards, throwing them out of my way and revealing the empty space underneath. My hands flew to my face and then clutched at my throat. I let out a cry that sounded hauntingly like the last note I had played on my violin in the cellar years ago, a keening that had lingered in the stillness.
Chapter 14
I BARELY JUMPED WHEN I HEARD A GENTLE KNOCKING AT the back kitchen door. My tears had run dry and I had been sitting in a stupor, watching the fire crackle for what seemed like hours. What good had my glimpse of self-worth done me when it was up against Victoria’s dominance and my stepsisters’ treachery?
I stood with a sigh and went to answer the door. Will stood there, his expression radiating complete happiness as usual, but it fell immediately when he took in whatever emotion was on my face.
“What happened? Is Victoria dead?” His tone sounded more hopeful than upset.
“No,” I replied vacantly. I left the door open for him to come in and returned to my chair by the fire.
“I guess I should have known. I don’t think you would look so sad if that were the case,” he joked lightly, trying to cheer me up.
I had gone back to watching the flames.
“Ella?” His voice had turned soft and imploring.
I shook my head. I couldn’t talk about it yet. He knew from experience that it was useless trying to make me talk about what was bothering me. I would bring it up if I wanted to.
Will cleared his throat. “How do you like my suit?” he asked. He was trying to sound cheerful, but I could hear the hesitation in his voice.
Forcing my eyes from the dancing flames, I looked at him and noticed what he was wearing. For a moment, I forgot my sadness and admired how handsome he looked. He was wearing his uniform for the ball—a long, dark-blue suit coat with matching pants. The coat was secured up all the way to his chin with brass buttons that ran all the way down the front. He had shiny black shoes on. He stood tall as I appraised him, though he looked as uncomfortable as he must have felt.
“All right. That’s enough ogling.” He laughed as he unbuttoned the top button of his collar. “I didn’t only come to show off how incredible I look.” He winked. “I was wondering if you could sew the sleeve for me. I was going to have one of the palace seamstresses do it, but they had left by the time I noticed it. They must have taken my measurements wrong and I tore the seam of the sleeve. Or maybe my muscles have grown since they measured me.” He chuckled, and I couldn’t help smiling a little.
I walked across the room to get my sewing kit that sat on top of a pile of clothes that needed mending. When I returned, Will was standing by the fire wearing his white button-up shirt, his suit coat in his hands. As I walked past him, his hand gently grasped my arm.
“You don’t have to, Ella. I know you have a lot to do …” As he spoke, I took the coat, sat down, and started to sew.
“Yes, and this is the most important. I’m happy to help, Will. It’s the least I can do,” I murmured.
After a few minutes, the seam was repaired and I handed the coat back to Will.
“Thank you,” he said, folding the coat over a chair. “I can’t even tell where the tear was. You’re amazing, Ella!”
I smiled at him, but then my face crumpled and I buried my face in my hands. Suddenly, Will was kneeling in front of me, his hands on my arms. He pulled my hands away from my face and tenderly wiped the tears from my eyes.
“I’m going to get you away from Victoria somehow, Ella.” Underneath the softness in his voice, I heard the now-familiar determination.
My chin quivered. “She told me I can’t go to the ball. I had finally decided to go and she took it away from me.” I quickly recounted the story for Will. I told him what she had said about my father and how she hated this house. Then, reluctantly, I told him about what happened with Cecelia in my room and how she discovered my secret. I had been careless and vain, and I would never forgive myself. My voice trembled as I told him how my dress and glass slippers had been sold to pay for Mabel and Cecelia’s vile, gaudy dresses, just as Victoria had sold Father’s violin to pay their debts.
Will listened in horrified silence. “Those two twits stole your dress and shoes? That half-de
ad wretch is getting up out of her deathbed to keep you from going to the ball? Not if I have anything to say about it.” He spoke with such conviction that I felt a tiny glimmer of hope.
As soon as I felt that hope, I unexpectedly had an idea, but I wasn’t going to tell Will about it. He would try to stop me or come up with his own idea, and I wouldn’t allow it. In the moment I made the decision, I felt completely at peace and my mind was made up.
Will continued to kneel in front of me, and I watched him as he stared into the fire. Will and I had come to depend on each other. We saw each other nearly every day but our relationship had always stayed the same—comfortable, yet reserved; courteous, but careful; friendly, but not intimate—until this week. A change had taken place and I couldn’t quite identify where it had come from. Perhaps it was with the announcement of the ball; or Father being gone for ten years; or Victoria’s declining health; or maybe it was feeling like he was my only friend now that Jane had been pulled away from me. Will and I had grown closer this week, and I truly looked at him for the first time.
Had there always been gold in his green eyes, or was it just the firelight flickering in them? Did he always look so mature, or was it because his face was brooding at the moment? How long had his shoulders been broad enough to carry his own burdens as well as lighten mine?
His dark hair fell across his forehead carelessly, and I suddenly wanted to brush it back away from his eyes. The fire illuminated his sharp features but also brought a softness to them, creating a contrast between his straight nose and defined cheekbones and his gentle eyes and smooth mouth.
I was beginning to actually feel, and that was dangerous. When I felt, I hurt. And Victoria knew that and used that. I had become a survivor, someone who merely stayed alive, not lived; not felt—at least, not deeply—if I could help it. Had this distance between Will and me been my doing? Did he notice the careful space between us?
He felt my gaze on him and he looked back at me. His eyes were still intense but not angry. I blushed at being caught staring at him and I tried to speak before it became more awkward. I decided to tell him what I had been wondering about. The gap between us had closed enough that I felt I could speak honestly.
“Will, I’ve been thinking.” My voice was soft, but not timid. “Why hasn’t anything ever happened between us? I mean, most of the girls my age are married and many have babies. The men your age are off seeking their fortunes or married themselves.” My tone lightened as I spoke, not wanting to scare him or make it too serious. I was simply curious. Maybe he had answers I didn’t.
His eyes watched me intently. He placed his hands over mine, which were now resting on my lap. I was trying to keep the conversation light, but he was not taking it lightly. He leaned in closer to me.
“I’ve never had anything to offer you,” he said softly. I was surprised that he actually had an answer. I thought he would laugh and say he didn’t know either. But I couldn’t make sense of his answer. What was he referring to? Worldly goods, a comfortable home … love? Was that what he couldn’t offer me? Is that why we had always remained respectfully reserved?
His eyes were unrelenting as he searched my face, seeming to look for answers to his own questions, and I couldn’t catch my breath. He didn’t say anything else and he made no indication that he would. He just looked back at me, holding my hands, saying nothing.
“Why have you never kissed me?” I couldn’t believe I asked the question, but at the same time, I had to know and I didn’t know when, or if, I’d ever muster the courage to ask him again.
He leaned in even closer, and I watched his eyes flicker to my lips. He raised one hand to touch my cheek, his fingers caressing my skin as lightly as a breeze. He seemed to be debating over something, but he never looked away from my face. There was an intensity in his eyes that was different than when I’d seen him angry or serious or pensive. It made my bones feel like liquid.
I watched countless emotions play across his face and they mesmerized me. At last, his features relaxed and they composed themselves into an expression I recognized but couldn’t put a name to.
He dropped his hand from my face, his other hand let go of mine, and he pulled away from me. I was sitting next to the blazing fire but I instantly felt chilled. He grabbed his coat and turned back to me with a solemn expression.
“You were never mine to kiss,” he whispered.
He sighed so quietly I could have imagined it, and walked out the door.
As soon as he left, I realized what his expression was. It was resignation—and I saw it every time I looked in the mirror.
Chapter 15
I DIDN’T GO TO SLEEP. I STARED AT THE DOOR FOR A LONG time after Will left, trying to make sense of what he had said and the expression on his face as he left. I worried that I had scared him, despite my best intentions, and wondered if I should have kept quiet, while also being grateful that I hadn’t. I hoped I hadn’t ruined our relationship. I could barely believe the things I had said now that I was sitting alone in the empty kitchen and my face flushed from the memory.
I contemplated our conversation until my thoughts were a chaotic, tired mess, and I forced them to the back of my mind. I waited until any footsteps upstairs were silent and the house became still. I wrapped my shawl around me and ducked out into the cool night.
I took the shortcut into town through the woods. It was the first time in my life that I could remember being afraid of the forest and what could be lurking behind any tree in the darkness. Every twig that snapped made my heart leap out of my chest. Once an owl hooted and I screamed out loud in terror. My hands trembled, and not from the cold, as they held my thin shawl tight around me. I had left my hair down, hoping it would provide just a little more warmth as it swirled around me and hung heavily down my back.
Victoria had forbidden me from going to the ball. A day or two before, I would have smiled in secret after hearing her threat knowing that I wasn’t planning on going anyway and that her punishment would have been futile. I never would have admitted as much to her or she would have found some other way to punish me. But once I had decided that I would go, that I was worthy to go, and that I was not going to miss this extraordinary experience, nothing was going to stop me. There were a few hours after Victoria forbade me to go where I felt like all hope was lost and I was going to have to stay home, but Will’s resolve was contagious and I knew I needed to take my fate into my own hands.
Sweating and freezing, I burst through the trees and into the center of town. The shops were all closed and there wasn’t a single lantern lit, but I knew exactly where the shop I needed was, and if I had to wake the shopkeeper, so be it. We were both going to benefit from this, and I would not take no for an answer.
I came to the shop and knocked softly on the door. No answer. I knocked louder still. No answer. Finally, I balled my hand into a fist and pounded with all my strength and the sound echoed through the eerie silence. The shopkeeper lived in the back room and I saw a dim glow as a candle was lit and then I watched as its faint light illuminated the path of the woman holding it. Finally, the door creaked open and I gasped in fright at the weakly lit face glaring back at me through sleepy eyes.
The old woman scowled. Then, as recognition dawned on her face, a wrinkly smile lit her features, transforming her into a different person. I smiled back, relieved to see that she wasn’t too angry with me.
“Miss Blakeley, to what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked cordially as she opened her door, inviting me in. Though her demeanor was kind, I could see her study me shrewdly. I knew she remembered the last time we had spoken.
“I want to sell my hair,” I stated without emotion.
“Miss Blakeley, I told you years ago, you shouldn’t be worrying your pretty little head about money,” she chided as she let me in and closed the door behind me. I was instantly enveloped in the warmth and safety of her little shop. My eyes swept unwillingly over the room, looking at the dozens of wigs that lined the
walls. I gulped and returned to look at the woman.
“I need to sell my hair. Now.”
“Why, my child?” There was definite concern in her eyes now.
“I need to buy back something that was stolen from me.” I kept my head high and willed my chin not to tremble.
Her eyes tightened infinitesimally. “What was stolen from you?”
I couldn’t answer. I didn’t trust my voice, nor did I want to tell her what it was and have her decide if a gown and shoes were worth the sacrifice I was willing to make for them. My mind was made up, and I wouldn’t let her turn me away this time.
She nodded somberly and pursed her wrinkled lips thoughtfully. “Was it a gown and something else in a little blue box?” she asked.
My eyes widened and filled with tears, and I knew she had her answer.
She nodded again in understanding. “Dear, I saw your sisters waltz into town this afternoon. One had a gown folded in her arms and the other was carrying a box. I knew they were up to no good and I watched them. They went in the dress shop across the road, carrying those things, and came out with their own new dresses and the nastiest looks I’ve ever seen. Before he closed up shop, I went and asked Mr. Sims, the dress shop owner, how much he would want for the items and asked him to save them. I knew you’d be coming tonight. I’ll never forget when you came begging me to cut your hair so you could buy back your violin. Never.” Her lips quivered and mine did too. That was one of the worst days of my life. I could again feel my powerlessness and her pity and it only strengthened my resolve.
“Will you cut my hair?” I asked quietly.
She looked back at me for a long time and I refused to look away. I was afraid that if I showed any uncertainty, she would turn me back out into the darkness and its accompanying hopelessness. After a moment, she nodded and picked up her scissors from the table behind her. “I’ll only take what I need, dear,” she said with a wobbly voice. She led me to a chair in the back of the room and I sat down. She gathered a large chunk of my hair and then I heard the sickening grating, severing sound that turned my stomach. I refused to cry as I heard the first thud of heavy hair hit the ground, though I did feel her tears splashing on my head as she leaned over me to reach for the next portion.
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