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ISBN 978-1-4847-1177-4
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Contents
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Photos from the Movie
Dearest Reader,
If you would be so kind as to indulge me, I would like to tell you a tale. Years have passed since these events unfolded, but I remember them vividly. It’s no surprise, really. After all, I am a fairy godmother, and fairy godmothers have great memories (not to mention impeccable fashion sense). Over the years, I have helped many young people discover that dreams can come true. I’ve watched love blossom and grow, watched heroes find strength and hard-hearted people find soul. But this story touched me more than all the others.
It begins, as all the good stories do, with “once upon a time....”
Once upon a time, there lived a handsome man and a beautiful woman. They were kind, gentle, and generous to all. The man worked hard to make his wife happy, and his wife loved him wildly. They lived in a quaint home in the middle of a beautiful kingdom.
A large meadow behind the house provided flowers through spring and summer, and in a small field, sweet lambs grazed beside contented cows. It was a home filled with cheer. When the husband and wife had a perfect baby girl, the home became happier still.
They named the baby Ella, and from the moment she was born, she was their little princess. True, she had no title or crown or castle. But she was the ruler of her own little kingdom. The forest and meadow were her borders, and the birds in the air and the critters in the fields were her subjects.
Whether she pretended to be an elephant traipsing through the Sahara or a wild horse galloping through the meadow, everyone, from the mice in the house to the cooks in the kitchen, was happy to play along. Both animal and human alike fell under her enchantment, happier when in her presence.
Spring had arrived in the kingdom. The grass in the meadow was a bright green, and flowers grew tall in their beds. Baby lambs grazed in the meadow, while ducks flapped around in a small fountain near the main house.
Stepping through the front door, ten-year-old Ella inhaled deeply and smiled. She reached into her pocket and closed her small hand around the bread crumbs she had gotten from the kitchen. She skipped toward the ducks splashing about and began throwing the crumbs into the water.
The ducks pecked at the bread, thrilled to have a treat. But they were not the only ones who wanted some. In an instant, sparrows flew down from the nearby trees, and even the goats and sheep began to make their way over. Soon it was chaos as all the animals and birds tried to get to the bread.
Ella waded among the throng, moving some of the bigger birds out of the way. “You there,” she said to one particularly large duck, “what do you think you’re doing? Let the little ones have their share.” Turning toward a goat with a rather large clump of grass in his mouth, Ella added, “Goliath, do take some time to chew your food. We don’t want you getting an upset stomach.”
A gentle laugh surprised Ella, and she turned around. Her mother was standing nearby, an amused expression on her face. “Do you still believe that they understand you?” she asked.
A look of doubt filled Ella’s bright blue eyes. “Don’t they?”
“Oh, yes,” she assured her daughter. “I believe that animals listen, and speak to us, if only we have the ear for it. That is how we learn to look after them.”
A big smile spread across Ella’s face. Then she frowned. “Who looks after us?”
“Fairy godmothers, of course,” her mother answered.
(Forgive the interruption, but I can’t resist. I was always fond of Ella’s mother. Such a good judge of character, and clearly smarter than most humans. But do go back to the story....)
Ella’s eyes grew wide. “And do you believe in them?”
“I believe in everything,” Ella’s mother replied.
Ella was quiet for a moment, her mother’s words running through her head. She nodded. “Then I believe in everything, too.”
“Which is just as it should be,” her mother declared.
Just then, Ella heard the sound of hoofbeats coming up the drive. She knew those hoofbeats. Ella let out a squeal before taking off across the meadow, heading for the drive. Her father was home!
Ella’s father was often gone for long stretches of time on merchant business, and when he was away, the house was just a little less bright.
“Papa!” Ella shouted, skipping the few remaining steps that separated her from her father. “Welcome home!”
Ella’s father lifted her into his arms, nearly squishing her in a giant bear hug. She hugged back as hard as her little ten-year-old arms would allow. Then she took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of road and dust that accompanied her father whenever he returned. She loved the smell, even though she knew Mother would force him into a hot bath as soon as possible.
After several moments, Ella slid to the ground. As was part of her routine, she stepped up to Galahad and affectionately put her hand on his muzzle. The horse leaned into her. When Ella turned back around, her eyes widened with excitement. Her father was holding out a beautifully wrapped gift.
“What is it?” Ella asked eagerly.
“Oh, nothing but a cocoon,” her father replied. “I found it hanging on a tree.”
Ella raised an eyebrow. She knew it wasn’t just a cocoon. Her father was teasing her.
Ella’s father gently shook the gift. “But I think there may be something inside.” He held out the package, and very carefully, Ella unwrapped the gift. Then she let out a delighted gasp. Inside was the most beautiful and marvelous toy butterfly she had ever seen. With a practiced move, Ella’s father took it and made the creature flutter around Ella’s face. It looked like it was alive!
“In French,” her father explained, “that is un papillon.”
Ella repeated the phrase, the words funny on her tongue. Her father had been teaching her French whenever he was home, and she was slowly becoming more fluent. He said that a true lady knew the language of the poets as well as the language of the farmer.
“Très bon,” her father cried after she had repeated the phrase several times. Then he held out his hand. “Voulez-vous danser, mademoiselle?”
“S’il vous plaît!” Ella exclaimed, dipping into a curtsy. Her father smoothly swept her into his arms, and they began to waltz their way up the rest of the drive to where Ella’s mother waited, a happy smile on her face.
Later that night, Ella lay tucked in her bed. The butterfly sat on the nightstand in a place of honor, while her mother sat on the covers, holding a beautiful book. Her gentle voice filled the room as she told Ella a story about a faraway land, a large ogre, and a dashing prince.
Ella’s eyelids fluttered as she tried to stay awake. Looking down at her sweet daughter snuggled in her a
rms, Ella’s mother began to sing a familiar lullaby. “Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly. Lavender’s green....When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen....” Her voice drifted off as Ella’s father entered the room. He placed a gentle kiss on his daughter’s forehead. Smiling, Ella’s mother began the final refrain. Ella woke and her soft voice joined in: “Lavender’s green, dilly dilly. Lavender’s blue....You must love me, for I love you.”
As the song came to a close, Ella’s parents stood up and began to blow out the candles one by one. Walking to the doorway, they turned to take another look at their sleeping angel. In that moment, everything seemed as it should be. They knew themselves to be the most fortunate people, to live as they did, and to love each other so.
However, sorrow can come to any kingdom, no matter how happy. And so it came to Ella’s, for her mother grew very ill.
Hovering in the doorway of her father’s study, Ella looked on as the doctor examined his patient. A bed had been set up and her mother lay on it, a shell of the beautiful woman she had once been. Now, his examination complete, the doctor began putting away his tools.
Ella nervously picked at her dress. Her eyes fell on the curtains, drawn against the bright sunshine outside, and she felt a pang of anger. It didn’t seem right for the sun to be shining when things were so horribly wrong.
“Ella. Come.”
Hearing her father’s tired voice, Ella hesitated before walking into the makeshift sickroom. The doctor put a hand on her shoulder as he departed. She knew he was trying to be reassuring, but it just made the sick feeling in her stomach grow stronger. Ella made her way to her mother’s bedside and kneeled down, carefully placing her hand on top of her mother’s.
“Ella,” her mother said, her voice weak. “It seems it is time for me to leave. And we must say good-bye before I go.” Tears began to run down Ella’s cheeks. “I don’t want you to be sad,” her mother said. Then she paused and a small smile spread across her face. “Well, you can be sad for a little while. But then, whenever you think of me, I want you to smile. Because I’ll be smiling, too, when I look at you.”
Ella’s throat closed up and she struggled to say something. But words wouldn’t come. So instead she just nodded.
Her mother nodded back. “I want to tell you a secret—a great secret that will see you through all the trials that life can offer.” Ella leaned in, as her mother’s voice was now barely a whisper. “You must always remember this: have courage and be kind. You have more kindness in your little finger than most people possess in their whole body. And it has power, more than you know.”
“Kindness has power?” Ella asked, confused.
“And magic,” her mother said. “Truly. Where there is kindness, there is goodness. And where there is goodness, there is happiness. Have courage and be kind. Will you promise me?”
“I promise,” Ella said, unable to stop the tears from falling.
Her mother let out a deep sigh and sank back into the pillows. “Good, good,” she said. “Now I have to go, my love. Forgive me.”
In that moment, Ella heard the importance in her mother’s words. She did the kind thing, even though it broke her heart, and forgave her mother. For she had promised. And she would keep her word. Ella would always try to be courageous and kind.
(Oh, reader, the loss of Ella’s mother was a tragedy. But do you see what I mean? Such a wonderful woman. She would have made a wonderful fairy godmother. Though I know she watches over her dear, sweet Ella, just as I do.)
Six years passed, and true to her word, Ella stayed kind and courageous. She continued to make sure the littlest birds got just as much food as the big birds at the fountain. She made sure to say good morning and good evening to the cooks and maids of the house. When she had to make trips to the market, she smiled at everyone she passed. Always she felt her mother’s presence, reminding her of the promise she had made all those years earlier.
One morning, Ella read aloud from a book in the drawing room. Her father sat in a chair opposite her, nibbling on a piece of toast slathered in honey.
Looking up, Ella smiled. She had harvested that honey especially for her father. It was his favorite treat, and the little things meant so much these days. The smile faltered a bit as she noticed the dust that had accumulated on the mantel and the curtains, which were worn thin. Since her mother’s death, the house had lost some of its sparkle.
Now, now, Ella thought. Times are not so bad. Father is here and we have a roof above our heads. And we have each other.
With a resolved nod, she returned her attention to the book and read the final paragraph aloud: “‘And thence home, and my wife and I singing, to our great content, and if ever there were a man happier in his fortunes, I know him not.’” Closing the book gently, she looked at her father. “Thus ends Mr. Pepys. I do love a happy ending, don’t you?”
Ella’s father nodded. “They are quite my favorite sort.”
“As well they should be,” Ella said. She paused before adding, “I suppose it would be selfish to ask for happy beginnings and middles as well.”
Silence filled the room. Both father and daughter were lost in thoughts of Mother. The book had been one of her favorites, with its grand love story and happily ever after. Many a long-ago evening had found a young Ella snuggled in her mother’s lap listening to her soft breathing as she read the book.
“No,” her father finally answered, breaking the silence. “I do not think that would be selfish.” He paused before going on. “Ella, I have come to the conclusion that perhaps I may begin a new chapter.”
Ella had been waiting for this day and knew immediately what he meant. Her father was a handsome and still rather young man. It did not make sense for him to spend the rest of his years alone. Still, her stomach fluttered uncomfortably at the thought of someone new in her life.
Ella turned her attention back to her father. “You will recall that some time ago in my travels,” he was saying, “I made the acquaintance of Sir Francis Tremaine.”
Ella nodded. “Yes. The master of the mercers’ guild, is he not?”
“Was,” her father corrected. “The poor man has died, alas.”
“I am grieved to hear it, Father,” Ella said, her voice filled with genuine sadness.
Her father looked down at his hands, which he was clenching and unclenching nervously. Then he raised his head, and his eyes met Ella’s. “His widow, an honorable woman, finds herself alone, though still in the prime of her life.”
Ella’s gaze softened. She knew this was hard for her father to say. “You’re worried about telling,” she said gently. “But you mustn’t....Not if it will lead to your happiness.”
“Happiness...” he repeated. “Do you think I may have another chance, even though I thought such things were done with?”
Ella did not hesitate. “I do, Father.”
A relieved smile broke over her father’s face. “She would merely be your stepmother,” he went on. “And you would have two lovely sisters to keep you company. So I will know, as far away as I may be, that you are safe at home, cherished and protected.”
Ella knew her father had been sad, but until that moment, she hadn’t realized how worried he had been, as well. Guilt flooded through her. She had promised her mother that she would be kind. The kind thing in this case would be to support her father’s decision.
She stood up and hugged her father tightly. This was bound to be a big change. But perhaps there was a silver lining. She would have sisters—real sisters who could become real friends—and a stepmother, who might, in time, become like a real mother....
Within a fortnight the plans of marriage had been made and the ceremony performed. Soon after, Ella found herself standing in front of her house waiting for the arrival of her new stepmother and stepsisters. Her father stood beside her, with a cautiously hopeful look on his face.
Ella wrung her hands. She had spent the past few days helping the staff clean the house. As Ella had looked around
the home earlier that morning, she couldn’t help missing her mother. Mother had loved seeing the home gleam after a fresh tidying.
The house was not the only thing to receive special attention. Ella wore her best dress, its blue complementing her eyes. Her blond hair had been brushed until it shined and then pulled back gently. Now, standing in front of the house, she hoped that she, too, would look fine through fresh eyes.
The distinct clip-clop of hooves echoed down the drive, and within moments a carriage pulled up in front of the manse. Two coachmen jumped to the ground and opened the door.
Ella’s breath caught in her throat. This was it. Pasting a smile on her face, she waited for the first glimpse of her new stepmother.
Lady Tremaine’s foot appeared in the door, beautiful in an ornate shoe. A moment later, Lady Tremaine’s hand appeared and took one of the coachmen’s outstretched hands. Then, with practiced grace, she stepped out of the carriage and onto the drive.
She was one of the most beautiful women Ella had ever seen. Her skin was radiant and soft, her strawberry-blond hair piled atop her head in a fashionable coif. Her dress, clearly the latest fashion, was cinched tight at her tiny waist, and the jewels at her throat made her eyes sparkle.
Ella’s father offered his hand to his new bride. “My daughter, Ella,” he said by way of introduction.
Ella curtsied. She was rewarded with a large smile from Lady Tremaine. “Please, Ella,” the lady said sweetly, “let us treat each other like family.” Then she motioned to the carriage. “These are your sisters, Drisella and Anastasia.”
There was a small commotion and the carriage rocked gently on its wheels. Then out stepped two young ladies. The eldest, Anastasia, was pretty, with dark hair and porcelain skin. Her sister, Drisella, had red hair and was slightly smaller in stature. Catching sight of Ella, Drisella looked her up and down, apparently not impressed. She whispered something into Anastasia’s ear.
“Have courage, be kind,” Ella muttered to herself. It would do no good to start off on the wrong foot. Smiling, Ella said, “How do you do? I hope you will all be happy here.”
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