by K. A. Last
I close the door behind me and find the chain for the light, pulling it to turn it on. A click sounds, and the bulb glows. Almost everything up here belonged to my mother. And now it belongs to me—from the antique dresser with the bevel-edged mirror, to the bookcase full of dusty books, to the dressmaker’s mannequin in the corner. Not that I can do anything with it all. My cottage is too small.
The blanket box I want to look through sits against the wall near the mannequin. I go to the window first, flip the latch so I can push it open, then quickly check that Lady Roche’s carriage hasn’t come home yet. The road in the distance is also clear. I make my way over to the wooden box and press my hand to the lid. The polished timber has become roughened over the years, but I love the imperfect, rustic look.
“Please, Mother. Let there be something in here that will make me beautiful,” I whisper.
I flip the latch on the front of the box, and lift the lid.
Inside are three gowns, and my heart races as I take the first one out. The fabric is a beautiful soft pink silk with glass beads stitched to the bodice. They look like glitter. The skirt is layers and layers of ruffles. Another dress is made from a darker pink fabric with little flowers embroidered around the sleeves, neckline, and v-shaped waistline.
I drape the two gowns over the arm of an old couch, then go back to the blanket box to look at the last dress. Tiny specks of silver are stitched into a sheer overlay that covers the pale gold silk. I hold the dress against me and twirl. The skirt flares out, and it feels like I’m dancing in stars.
Something in the skirt catches my eye, and I stop. There’s a tear in the golden fabric. My heart sinks. I will have to repair it and hope no one notices. Or wear one of the other dresses. I sit on the couch, and set the gold dress aside. When I pull the dark pink one onto my lap, I find a hole in it, too. It’s mostly along the waistline seam, but the fabric of the bodice is frayed, and will be hard to mend. My heart sinks a little lower. I glance over at the pale pink dress. Please let it be perfect. But the ruffles in its skirt are also torn.
I stand from the couch and go to the open window. The sound of birds singing reaches my ears, and I watch two swallows as they play on a tree branch.
“What am I going to do?” I ask them. I lean on the windowsill, and look out at the sunny day. “Perhaps I could fashion a new dress using these. I have all week to work on it. And I could create a masquerade mask to match.” The birds tweet their reply, and hop along the branch. “If anything it would mean my dress would be unique.”
I pull the window closed, and go to the blanket box to find something to carry the dresses in. I wish I could take the whole thing with me, but it’s far too heavy. At the bottom is an old sheet, so I lay it out on the floor, then gather the gowns and put them carefully on top, pulling the corners up and twisting the sheet together to make it easier to carry.
I make sure the attic looks just as it did before I entered, then go back downstairs. I quickly do a final check that the house is in order, and there is no one outside to see me carrying my sheet full of dresses. Then I leave via the back entrance from the kitchen, and make my way into the woods. Excitement courses through me as I walk. I’m eager to get to my cottage, and begin working on my gown.
Once there, I lay the dresses on the table, and retrieve my small sewing basket from my blanket box. For a few minutes I stand and stare at the beautiful fabrics in front of me, piecing a new dress together in my head. I could start with the beaded bodice from the pale pink dress. It sparkles so beautifully, and it’s in perfect order.
Bird song fills the cottage. When I turn, the swallows are sitting on the windowsill. The mouse that lives under the kitchen sink pokes its head out.
“What do you think?” I ask them. “Could I make a new gown from these dresses?”
One of the birds flies over, and perches on the pale pink bodice. Then it moves to the skirt of the dark pink dress, and finally, it takes the overlay of the gold dress gently in its beak.
“That’s a perfect combination,” I say. “But it will be a lot of work.” The mouse clambers up onto the chair. The swallows both perch on the handle of my sewing basket, one of them picking up the end of a thread in its beak. I laugh. “I better get to work then.”
The birds and the mouse keep me company as I stitch into the afternoon. Before I know it, it’s time to go back to the house to prepare dinner, and I’ve missed my time to visit the cemetery.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” I say, running my finger over the stone of my pendant tucked inside its metal box. “I promise I’ll come tomorrow.”
I gather my sewing supplies and put them away in the blanket box. Then I carefully fold my gown in progress, wrap it in the sheet for protection, and tuck it out of sight.
When I reach the manor, Lady Roche and my stepsisters are flouncing around the parlour, holding dresses against themselves, and arguing over whose is the best.
“Mine is far more beautiful than yours,” Anna snaps at her sister.
“Yours looks like a potato sack next to mine,” Drew huffs.
“Your dresses are equally fine,” Lady Roche says. “It is mine that is best of all.” She smiles, and hugs her dress to her chest.
There is no doubt that all of their dresses are magnificent. And I can’t see why they are arguing. Anna’s is a deep purple with a gold embroidered bodice. Drew’s gown is the same style, with emerald green fabric beneath the golden swirls. And Lady Roche holds her black and gold gown at arm’s length in admiration.
“They are all beautiful,” I say. “You will look splendid at the ball.”
“Oh, you’re home,” Drew says.
“Who said you could talk?” Anna glares at me. “Stop looking at our dresses.”
I stare at my feet, and clasp my hands in front of me, wishing my stepsisters wouldn’t be so cruel. I was giving them a compliment.
“Take these gowns and put them in the dressing room,” Lady Roche orders me. I look up at her and she narrows her eyes. “Then get us dinner. We’re hungry from a long day of shopping.”
“Yes, Lady Roche,” I reply, taking the dresses from the three of them.
“Don’t get them dirty,” Anna says.
I avoid making eye contact with any of them and go upstairs. In the dressing room, I drape the dresses over the chaise lounge, then wheel out three mannequins from the large walk-in robe. I carefully put each dress onto a mannequin before lining them up along the wall, positioning Lady Roche’s in the middle. I sigh, because the gowns are far more beautiful than my dress could ever be.
It’s one thing to have an invitation to the ball, and another to be worthy of attending. What will Ash think when I turn up in something more akin to rags than riches?
Chapter five
A FEW DAYS PASS. I keep my head down, do my chores, and work on my dress in my spare time, which is often after everyone has gone to bed.
The days have been long, but today Lady Roche is out, and the sisters are at school, so getting everything done is far easier. I manage to get my chores finished and go to the cemetery early. I miss seeing Ash, and I decide not to stay longer to see if he’ll come, because this afternoon I want to go and visit Gerald.
The late autumn sun is warm on my face as I cross the grounds of Roche Manor, heading for the stables.
“Hello,” I call when I reach the main doors.
“Ella.” Gerald comes out of one of the stalls, a pitchfork in his hand. “It’s so nice to see you.”
“How have you been this week?” I ask.
Gerald rests on his pitchfork. “Oh, ya know. Same as every week. Smokey has missed ya but.”
I smile, and walk along to the last stall. “How has he been? Has his leg healed?” I lean on the half-door and look in. Smokey is up the back, favouring his right front leg.
“It’s comin’ along, but not quite there yet.” Gerald comes to my side. “Them barbs on that fence were brutal.”
“Come here, boy,” I say, clic
king my fingers.
Smokey snorts, then hobbles slowly towards me. He nuzzles my hand, and I stroke his velvety nose.
“Lady Roche isn’t back yet?” I ask.
“Nah,” Gerald says. “Should be soon but.”
It’s quiet in the stables without the other two horses, and I feel a little sorry for Smokey not having his friends here to talk to.
I spend an hour or so helping Gerald with mucking out the stalls, and putting in fresh hay. Then we clean what tack is still in the storeroom so there won’t be as much for Gerald to do when the carriage returns.
“You got ’nough to do in the house,” Gerald says. “You don’t have ter help me.”
I smile at him as I run a cloth over Smokey’s saddle. “I like helping you. You’re good company. You don’t yell and scream at me.”
Gerald’s eyes glisten. “Such a kind-hearted gal, ye are, Ella. Thank ye.”
Gerald has been at Roche Manor since before my mother died. He was treated far better back then, and every day I wish things could be different for him here. He likes to keep to himself and just do his work. I completely understand. Working and living at Roche Manor can be lonely if you aren’t Lady Roche or one of her daughters.
I think about telling Gerald that Ash has invited me to the masquerade ball, but I keep it to myself. Although I trust Gerald, I don’t trust that he won’t make an absentminded mistake. He’s getting on in years, and sometimes he forgets things. If Lady Roche and my stepsisters find out I am secretly sewing a dress, my chances of going to the ball will be over.
I have thought about asking Lady Roche if I can go to the ball, after my dress is finished. But I think it’s best to keep it a secret. I will be able to hide behind my mask for the night. They won’t recognise me, and I can make sure I get home before they do. We have a second carriage. I can ask Gerald at the last minute to drive me, and Lady Roche will be none the wiser.
A horse neighs from outside, and Gerald and I go to the doors of the stables. The main carriage is coming along the road, so we open the barn ready to receive it. Phillip nods as he pulls in, but he is a man of very few words. He sets to getting the carriage in order while Gerald and I unharness the horses, and lead them around to the stables.
“Ella,” Anna’s shrill voice calls from the house. “Ella, come here right now!”
I glance at Gerald and sigh. I had hoped to go to my cottage when I finished helping him, to work on my dress. But it doesn’t look like I will have the chance now until after dinner.
“Ya better go an see what’s up with her,” Gerald says.
“I’ll see you soon, okay?”
Gerald nods, smiling.
“Good luck,” Phillip says as I pass the open barn doors. “She has herself in quite a knot over something. She was yelling at Lady Roche the minute I pulled up outside.”
“Ella!” Anna screams again.
“Thank you for the warning,” I reply to Phillip, then I take off across the grounds of Roche Manor. “I’m coming,” I call.
Anna stands in the doorway, her hands on her hips. “Where have you been? What have you done to my dress?”
I frown. “I haven’t done anything to your dress.”
“You better fix it or there will be hell to pay.”
Anna turns and storms up the stairs. Lady Roche is in the foyer and gives me a stern look. Drew stands at the top of the staircase, staring at me with a smug smile. I follow Anna, wondering what could possibly have happened.
When I reach the dressing room, Anna is pacing, her hands clenched into fists.
“It’s ruined,” she says. “You’ve sabotaged my gown.”
I stop in the doorway, but Drew pushes me from behind and I stumble into the room.
“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. The dresses were perfectly fine while I was in here cleaning this morning.” I walk over to the mannequin holding Anna’s gown and look over it, trying to spot the problem.
Anna turns on me. “You don’t want me to go to the ball. You did this. You horrible little wretch.”
I open my mouth to say something, but snap it closed. There is no use defending myself again, Anna won’t listen. She’s too worked up, and obviously believes I’ve done something to her gown.
“What you’ve done is really quite nasty,” Drew says from the chaise lounge. “You’re jealous you can’t go, so you did this.”
I still don’t know what the problem is. And Drew is looking rather smug, laying back on the lounge studying her nails. I suspect she has something to do with this, but I can’t openly accuse her of such a thing. Despite the fact that Drew is far more likely to sabotage her sister’s dress, both of them would rather blame me.
“Please calm down, Anna, and show me what the problem is,” I say.
“This is the problem.” Anna turns the mannequin, and the back of her dress has a tear in it, right down the back from the waist to the bottom hem.
“Oh,” I say, because I’m completely lost for words.
It is indeed a horrible thing to have done to such a beautiful gown. I know I had nothing to do with it, but I don’t repeat what I said before. Anna will not believe me.
“Oh?” Anna mimics, hands on her hips as she steps towards me. “You better fix it. Right now!” she yells.
“Of course. I’ll fix it.” I go to the sewing table and pull out the extension. “You will never be able to tell.”
Anna huffs. “Come on, Drew. I can’t stand the sight of her.”
My stepsisters leave the dressing room, slamming the door behind them. I drop onto the lounge and put my face in my hands.
Why are they so cruel? Not only to me, but to each other?
I take a deep breath to compose myself, then stand again. The dress won’t fix itself.
With a heavy heart, I get the sewing machine ready, threading it with purple thread to match Anna’s gown, then I lay it onto the table to assess the damage. The tear starts at the waist seam, and runs beside the seam at the back. Whoever did this, and I still suspect Drew, knew that it would be able to be mended as if it were new again.
I set to work, pinning the seam and marking where I will need to sew. A little of the fabric will be lost inside the new stitch line, due to the tear not being exactly where the old seam is. But the skirt is so full, it shouldn’t be noticeable.
It seems I was optimistic thinking I could use the sewing machine. There is so much fabric I barely get halfway up the skirt before the bulk is too much to handle. I stop the treadle, and secure the thread, then move to the lounge and drape the gown over my knees. I’m going to have to sew the rest by hand, and my fingers are terribly sore from working on my own dress.
The task of making so many small, sturdy stitches is an arduous one, and I work all the way up until dinner time. I prepare the evening meal with throbbing fingers, and an aching back. I keep my eyes down, avoiding any chance of conversation with Lady Roche or my stepsisters, then after dinner I get back to it.
I sew on into the night, and it’s well after midnight by the time I finish the last stitch. I place the gown back onto the mannequin, lifting it with tired, heavy arms. Then make sure my work is the best it can possibly be. Surely Anna will not be able to find fault with it.
The house is quiet and I tiptoe downstairs, so exhausted I think about sleeping on the lounge in the parlour. But Lady Roche would be horrified if she found me there in the morning, so I slip out the back door and make my way along the path to my cottage.
The night air is crisp, and the grounds of Roche Manor are peaceful in the early morning hour. I let the moonlight guide my steps, and listen to the night creatures scurrying through the forest. By the time I reach my front door, I have woken up a little and feel refreshed.
I light a candle and take my gown out. After stitching for so long on Anna’s dress, I really should rest my fingers, but if I’m going to finish my gown, I need to keep working on it. I sew for half an hour. When I can’t control my yawns, I
pack up my sewing basket, and fold my dress to put it away.
There are still three days until the ball. I’m sure I can finish it by then.
Tomorrow will be a better day, it has to be.
I pull back the covers and fall onto my bed with barely enough energy to drag the sheet over me again. I close my eyes and snuggle into my pillow, hoping for dreams of beautiful gowns, and dancing in Ashwin Chethan’s arms.
Chapter six
I WALK UP THE HILL towards my mother’s grave, fixing my gaze on the willow tree swaying in the breeze, glad that in a few minutes I will be able to sit in the shade of its branches.
Lady Roche and my stepsisters have been especially awful to me since the day Anna accused me of sabotaging her gown. My stepfamily have made me work harder, with longer hours, always finding something else for me to do just when I think I’m done for the day.
Anna and Drew have been constantly reminding me that I wasn’t invited to Ashwin’s masquerade ball, and only someone who was jealous of them would do such a thing to Anna’s dress. A few times I have come close to blurting out that yes, I have a personal invitation from Ashwin himself, but I’ve managed to bite my tongue. If they find out, my chances of going would be completely ruined.
Because they’ve been so horrible, I haven’t managed to make it to the cemetery since then, so I haven’t been able to see Ash. The ball is tomorrow, and I have no idea if he even still wants me to come.
I water the tree with my tears. Then I kneel on the grass at the foot of my mother’s grave, and press a kiss to her headstone with my fingers.
“Hi, Mother,” I say. “How are you? I’ve had a tough week, but my dress is coming along nicely. I think I’ll have it finished tonight. And it may not be as splendid as Lady Roche’s gown, but it’s mine, and I love it.” I pause, and listen to the breeze blowing through the willow tree. “Wearing it will make me feel like you’re there with me. Which makes it even more special.” I don’t tell her what happened with Anna’s dress. I want to put that behind me.
