Cinderella (Faerie Tale Collection)

by Jenni James

  Pulling it out, she examined the pretty brass etchings and scrolling around it. This key looked so very familiar to her. It was something she had seen many times before—but it must have been years and years ago. What was it to? What lock in the house would fit it? It was certainly too fine to be considered something normal and used every day. This key was most definitely used on something personal and costly.

  She could not think of a box that would require such a key. With a shrug, she placed it under her pillow and made her way down the stairs, determined to solve it later—much later when she could clear her mind of everything else and give the matter some thought.

  ***

  ANTHONY MADE HIS WAY home just in time to greet his mother as she stepped out of her chambers after her short nap.

  “Are you sure you are up for this so soon?” he asked as he leaned over and gave the queen a kiss on the cheek. “You are welcome to sleep longer—perhaps even face the announcement tomorrow morning if you would like.”

  Her worn eyes searched his a moment as she grinned slightly. “And where have you been, my son? Did you rush to visit your Eleanoria, then?”

  “I knew you would figure it out soon enough.”

  “Ah.” She gave out a short, soft chuckle. “Even when consumed with grief, it is amazing what an overactive mind can sort through.”

  “You have just now sorted it out?”

  “I could not sleep. I laid there the whole hour sickened and frenzied by all that must go forth—trying to sort out the rest of our lives.” She reached up and patted him on the cheek. “I thought of you as king, and wondered how you will be able to face it all.” Walking slowly to the nearest chair lining the grand corridor, she sat down. “I was so fearful of all you will have to take on—and so worried for you.”

  “Mother,” he crouched down beside her, “you should not worry yourself over these things, I will be fine.”

  “And then I remembered her. The mystery girl you were off to see so very much. And I remembered the invitation you had me address to Eleanoria Woodston, Lord Dashlund’s daughter.” She smiled, her eyes caressing his features. “You have found her. I had nearly forgotten he had a daughter until now. Is she well?”

  “Yes, I have stumbled upon her. She is well. She is very well.”

  “I can see by your smile that she is very pretty too.”

  Anthony rolled his eyes as his grin deepened.

  “And she has captured your heart,” she whispered. “Good girl.”

  “Yes. She has quite caught it up tight.”

  “Is she in love with you as well?”

  “I think so. I hope so. But she does not know it yet.”

  His mother nodded. “Good. It is good she learns to love you slowly—you royal men fall in love way too quickly in my opinion.”

  “But father—”

  “Was a fool to fall in love with me.” She grinned. “I could have turned out to be anyone at all. And yet, his soul was attached.”

  He stood up. “When did you find you were in love with him?”

  “Oh, goodness. I am sure it was a good two or three days after he did.” She laughed. “We were fools. We always have been.” She held her hand out and took a deep breath. “Help me up, my dear, I must face this and I am afraid I cannot do so alone. I miss him so very much.”

  “I will be with you, Mother. I will be by your side, holding your arm the whole time.”

  She took another deep breath as she clutched his hand and allowed him to pull her up. “I will even forgive you for smelling of horse, as well.”

  Surprised, Anthony burst into laughter.

  “Yes, my son, we will be fine. It may take us a bit, but we will be fine.”

  “I believe so too.”

  ***

  IT WAS A FEW days after the funeral for the king, and about a week before the prince’s coronation that Ella found herself wandering the orchard wishing he would come. The funeral had been a hard day—the village and several surrounding kingdoms had all come to pay their respects and many had left with swollen eyes and heavy hearts. Anthony had given an inspiring speech showing to the world the great love he had for his father and the kind ruler he was. It was certainly difficult for Ella to sit through, as it brought on so many memories of her own good father—but to see Anthony up there, in all of his princely glory, looking so foreign and strong and competent. It was peculiar.

  It hurt too that she was not able to catch his eye once. And when the reverend got up to speak, to see Anthony break down in tears took every ounce of control she had not to rush all the way up to the podium and wrap her arms around him.

  More than likely it was that moment she understood her true feelings for him. Knowing he was suffering and she could do nothing about it was torturous. Instead, she held her feelings deep within herself and wept for him when she came home.

  Now she was wandering the orchard as she had done every day waiting for him. Hoping he would come. She sighed and looked around the trees. They would soon be losing their blossoms as the tiny buds of the apples would begin to appear. But still now, it was a wondrous fairyland of soft pink petals.

  She missed him. How she missed him. How she wished she could laugh and tease and play with him. Yet things have changed. She kicked at a pebble beneath her foot. Even the queen had postponed the ball for another two months.

  Two months! What in the world would Ella do for such a long time—especially if Anthony were never able to get away and see her? She sighed again. It was fruitless to wait out here. It was simply pointless to wish and dream for a man who was way too busy preparing to take over the kingdom to remember she was here and waiting for him.

  As she came past the stables on her way up to the house, she was surprised to see Hansen motioning toward her to come over to him.

  “Are you well?” she asked hoping his rheumatism was not acting up again.

  “Yes, Miss.” He grinned, his wrinkles wreathing his face around the large smile.

  She could not help herself, she grinned with him. “What is it?”

  “I have something to show you, Miss. Something I have had hidden a mighty long time and have only just now come across it again while I was cleaning out the storeroom.”

  Curious, she followed him inside the stables. “What is it?”

  “’Tis something that you need to see—I would be showing that prince of yours as well, as it is important.”

  “My prince?” She halted. “Hansen, how do you know who he is?”

  “My goodness, child! You do not go around entertaining young men out in the orchard without me checking up on him first, do you now?”

  She gasped out a chuckle. “Did you spy on us?”

  “You bet your boots I did! If I needed to come out with my shovel and whack the boy, I would have done it too. Took me a minute to place him, but once I did, I saw very much that he was indeed the young prince.”

  “Have you told anyone else?” They began to walk to the back of the stables again.

  “No. What is your business, is your business, unless I need to make it my business, then I will. But he was not hurting you at all and I liked the idea of you having such a sweet beau, I left well enough alone.” He stopped at an old door and turned to her. “However, now what is in here is something you need to see. Something I promised your father never to show you until it was time. And I figure with the king dying and your prince going to be on the throne soon, then you needed to see this—and you needed to see it now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  HANSEN SWUNG THE DOOR wide and stepped into the small storeroom. Ella was quick to follow. The light from the stable windows allowed her to watch him remove an old crate of some kind to reveal a very pretty gold and mahogany box about the size of a loaf of bread, with scrolls and etchings all over it. Her father’s box! She had forgotten it existed until that moment.

  “This is for you, Miss,” Hansen said as he pulled it out. “I would wait until all is clear before you t
ake it up to the house. Unless you would prefer to open it out here, then I will be happy and remain until you bring down the key.”

  She gasped. “The key! Yes, it belongs to my father’s box.”

  “Aye. I had one of the footmen hide it in your closet years ago, to keep it safe.”

  “How did you come by this?”

  “As I said, your father gave the box to me shortly before his death and said it was for you—and no one else. He was very adamant that no one knew about it. He asked me to hide it up tight in a place her ladyship would never think to look. And so I did, out here in the back of the stables. And it has remained here waiting for you ever since.”

  “Oh, Hansen, thank you!” She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him. “I shall bring the key back here. Wait for me.”

  It only took a few minutes to find her way back to the stables. By the time she came, Hansen had cleared out a good section of the ground near the haystacks and was waiting for her there. It was quiet, with only one or two of the stable boys doing their chores, but they did not pay any attention to her.

  She sat upon the ground near a large bundle of hay and pulled out her key from within the apron pocket.

  Hansen placed the box down gently for her and then tipped his hat. “I will be waiting over by the door to see no one disturbs you.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.” It took no time at all to place the intricate key into the lock and turn it. The pretty box swung easily open and inside there were several folded pieces of paper. She pulled out each one individually and examined them.

  Most of them were the deeds to the house, the land, the cattle, all of those important documents that one would need to show proof of. On each and every one he had her name Eleanoria Rose Woodston placed upon.

  She really did own all of the manor. There were also estimated values of each property, and its sums reached more than Ella would have ever imagined. She shook her head slightly and wiped away a few misplaced tears. He had remembered her.

  He loved her—until the very end. Despite what she had been told, he loved her.

  She found a note from him, explaining all—

  Ella,

  As you can see, if you are reading this, then I have passed on and you are at a time in your life when you should be well aware that all of this is truly yours. I love you, my daughter. I worry how you will be treated if I am to leave this earth before you have grown. Your stepmother means well, but she is vain and selfish at times. I am afraid for you, and so I have done the only thing I could think of to ensure she treated you well. I have left it all for you. Everything. So that you may share and give out, as is your nature to do so, to those I have left in your charge. Do take care of your stepmother and stepsisters, they will need much looking after once I am gone. I love you, my little Ella. I love you. Never stop riding—for it is an exceptional gift from above.

  Now, my dear, within this box you shall find the deeds and property assessments of all the land and buildings, et cetera, that you now own. There is also another letter here explaining your mother’s stipend to be given to you on your wedding day. It is the monies given to her by her grandmother and meant to be passed onto you. The accounting and all the necessary paperwork will be included in this box as well. You do own a large inheritance from both of your parents, but what is your mother’s most definitely far exceeds mine. Your stepmother has no idea of its existence; I never mentioned you were wealthy in your own right. You do not need to share that fact with anyone if you do not wish it.

  Also, my dear, there will be tucked inside some love letters between your mother and I, back in our courting days. You may enjoy browsing those as well. I have included your mother’s ring as well as some other costly jewelry, you are welcome to do with it as you see fit.

  I love you, my daughter. I love you. Never doubt this for it is true.

  Take care. Be kind. Be good. Be strong.

  Until we meet again—

  Love,

  Papa

  Ella slowly placed the letter down and pushed the box away for a moment. Her grief sharp all over again. Wiping at her tears, she pressed her lips together. What was she to do with such information? What did it really change within her? It did not bring her father or mother back—it just confirmed his suspicions that his new wife would treat her wrong. It was a gift given by a loving, caring father, but what did it matter if she had all the gold in the land? She would never be loved by those whom she had tried so very hard to prove her worth to. If she came out with this box and letters and waved it about, it would change nothing—only they would hate her more.

  She brought her knees up to her chin and stared at the stark walls of the stable. The gentle nays and snorts from the horses brought her back to the world she was currently in. It would seem everything was hers now. Anything she could grasp and clutch and draw toward her was now at her fingertips. The love of a king, her father’s wealth, her mother’s wealth, her home, her lands, it was all there waiting for her to decide to take it up.

  But could she?

  She wrapped her arms around her legs and pulled them tighter toward her.

  Could she handle the pressures of becoming a queen? Could she bear the burdens of being a wealthy landowner and taking care of many people under her charge? She had lived on so very little for so long, the thought of unimagined wealth startled her. In many ways she wished she could go back to being the little girl she once was and hide away. Ride Sunshine for hours instead of facing reality.

  What was she to do with her stepmother and stepsisters now? She needed to make several decisions, but did not feel up to the challenge to even tackle one of them. If she threw them out of the home, then what? Then she was no less cruel than they were—actually, she was worse. But how long could she continuously serve those who mocked her and treated her with such callousness, now that she knew the truth?

  She would shatter.

  Her sharp tongue was too quick at times and there would be no turning back if that was to happen. She would most likely say things she would regret for the rest of her life. Her nature was not to be cold and selfish; however, she knew she would need to come to grips with her own self-worth before she could dare to become an example for anyone else.

  Ella Woodston would have to fight. She would have to stand up and take back what was rightfully hers and claim her lands and title once more. But she could not think of such things at the moment. She simply could not.

  Too much, too soon, too fast.

  She needed counsel; she need advice.

  She needed John—er, Anthony.

  Yes.

  Sitting up more fully, she called out to Hansen. When he came, she asked, “Could you send something for me?”

  “Anything, Miss.”

  “I would like to write a missive to the prince, something short—but I would like to do so secretly. Can you see that he receives it?”

  “Yes. I will have one of the older stable boys run it up to the castle at once. Let me fetch you ink and the rest.”

  “Thank you.” As he left, she placed her father’s papers neatly within the box and shut the lid and locked it up tight. Dusting herself off, she made her way to the old storeroom and tucked it back underneath the crate. There it would stay until she was ready for it.

  With a deep breath, she closed the storeroom door and began to sort her thoughts for the note she would write Anthony. By the time Hansen had rushed back with the writing tools, she was ready. Deciding simplest would be best, she merely wrote—

  A—

  I need you. Please come as soon as possible.

  I will be waiting.

  E

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  BY THE TIME ANTHONY had received the missive it was clearly too late to leave the castle—or his mother. He had been holed up in meetings all day with the other advisers of the kingdom, playing a constant battle of cat and mouse, where he learned the rules and regulations and consequences of running it all. He was wear
y, exhausted, and felt as though his brain may have completely dissolved sometime over the last few days.

  He needed his Ella as much as she needed him.

  Smiling, he walked into the library to his father’s desk and quickly penned a reply, sending it off with a footman nearby. “See that one of the servants of the Dashlund home receives this and that it is meant for E. Woodston.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  As he watched the servant go, he collapsed onto the settee—the smile still lingering as he thought of her. It was good she turned to him. He was going to take it as a sign that she was coming to her senses and truly beginning to see how much she loved him.

  His smile slipped. What if something had happened?

  What if her stepmother had done something? What if she were in danger?

  Oh, great heavens.

  He stood up and paced the library for several moments. This would not do. He must settle his mind and think rationally. Ella was fine. She was fine. She must be fine.

  Clearly sleep was out of the question when such a note had been sent.

  Groaning, he looked out into the night sky. It was way too late for a visit.

  “What are you moaning about?” asked his mother as she entered the room.

  “Nothing. Ella.”

  “Ella Woodston?” She grinned.

  “Yes.” He sighed. “She sent a note earlier, but I did not receive it until now.”

  “And?”

  “That is all.”

  “And what did it say, dear?”

  He collapsed back onto the sofa. “That she needed me and would be waiting for me.”

  “So, she knows who you are now? The letter clearly made it into your hands.”

  “Yes, I told her the day father died.”

  “The day you mentioned she did not know if she loved you?”

  “The very same.”

  “Ahh.” She sat down on the high backed chair next to him. “So, this is in essence the first you have heard from her? And she needs you?”

  “Yes.”