Ella, The Slayer

by A. W. Exley

  Louise scoffed. "That old magazine, full of patterns but no class. Where is the latest issue of Vogue?" Louise cast around for her fashion magazine.

  Alice shuffled books and magazines stacked on the bedside table, and found the glossy expensive one. The one whose annual subscription would make quite a dent in the grocer's bill.

  Louise began flicking through the pages.

  Charlotte held up her Delineator. "Some daring ladies are donning harem pants. Do you think we could make some? I would love to be that brave."

  Alice looked over her shoulder. "If we could find some chiffon in the village, we could make a pair to match an existing top?"

  Elizabeth scoffed. "No one will care what you are wearing, Charlotte. The duke will only have eyes for Louise, and her outfit must outshine everyone."

  The smile disappeared from her cherubic face in an instant, and the magazine dropped from her hands. I could understand step-mother being cruel to me, but how could she turn on her own child? I stared into Charlotte's wardrobe and pulled out a dark green tunic.

  "This would be fabulous with harem pants, it would have an Egyptian air, like Cleopatra," I said.

  The smile returned, somewhat dimmer, but a thank you lurked deep in her eyes.

  "We have only today and tomorrow to pull something together, Louise," Elizabeth said, ignoring our attempts to outfit Charlotte. "We shall have to plead the deprivations of war and shorten an existing gown to the new length, and perhaps change the neckline?"

  The royal we in use, since Alice and I would be the ones wielding the needles and scissors, trying to refresh an older gown. Elizabeth regarded the overflowing contents of Louise's wardrobe and handed a few dresses to Alice for further consideration.

  Louise tossed the magazine to the floor. "If I lose his interest because you won't buy a new frock, it will all be your fault."

  "Oh really, Louise," her mother snapped. "How many other eligible young woman do you think there are stuck out here in the country? It's the reason I brought us here. His choice will be you, Charlotte, or a fine looking sheep."

  There was one other advantage to the dinner invitation, Alice and I could partake in a rare trip to the village to hunt for suitable fabric for the proposed alterations. Since Elizabeth had deflated poor Charlotte, we were determined to whip up harem pants in time and blow Louise's frock.

  Stewart dropped us off in the village on his way to pick up Giselle; a French refugee from the war, who it turned out, was a genius with a pair of scissors. Since settling in the village four years ago, Giselle was in demand by everyone who could afford a fancy French hairstyle. Alice and I stifled our giggles. The event at Serenity House and Giselle's haunted look implied every woman, young and old, would have the identical haircut from the front cover of the latest edition of Vogue.

  We strolled to the haberdashery store, which also stocked a selection of fabrics. The bell jingled over the door as we entered an Aladdin's Cave of treasures. Not what you would expect in a small rural village, but Mrs Grigg, the owner, had a magpie eye for anything sparkly and the shop delighted your senses. Ornate hat pins, gorgeous painted buttons, bead encrusted shoe buckles, and even feather boas were crammed into every available space. Objects glinted from the shadows, and those in the window reflected the sunlight and nearly blinded us.

  First things first. The back wall held bolts of fabrics, and we started by looking for something light to turn into scandalous oriental pants. Hidden amongst the rough cottons and fury velvets, I spied a roll of deep green organza.

  "Look," I said to Alice, as I pulled the bolt free.

  She ran her hand underneath the sheer fabric. "Oh, perfect."

  We placed it on the counter for Mrs Grigg to cut off the required length, while we moved to the wall of lace. It looked like an enormous and insane spider had spun a complicated web of breath-taking beauty. Lace collars, shawls, cuffs and patches were pinned up, overlapping and outcompeting each other for space. Most were either white, cream, or black, but here or there was the occasional item made in spun metallic thread.

  Louise wanted a shimmering element to the neckline of her gown. Alice and I had no idea what would give the desired effect, and we explored the delicate items looking for something that would serve the purpose.

  "I can't see anything that will pass her ladyship's standards," I muttered to Alice. "Couldn't we just use a flour sack and stick it over her head instead?"

  She snorted and elbowed me, but I didn't hear her say no.

  Her hand shot out. "Found something." Her fingers followed a glimmering gold thread, and by moving a wide collar, underneath we revealed a slim, one inch wide gold-worked strip. "She wants a deep vee to the neck, and this would be perfect." She unpinned the ribbon and took it to the counter, where it lay like spun gold in her hand.

  Mrs Grigg smiled and rang up the purchases. "Off to his lordship's dinner are they?"

  "Yes, and making extra work for us over it," Alice said, taking the brown paper-wrapped parcel.

  "Looking forward to the fete this Sunday, girls? I'll be entering my strawberry jam, and of course we all get to see the new duke. I do hope he's dashing." The older woman sighed and held a hand to her chest.

  What was it about a title and obscene wealth that drove everyone potty?

  "I heard he resembles Richard the Third."

  "Oh?" Mrs Grigg frowned, not following my meaning.

  I leaned forward and pitched my voice conspiratorial low. "Malformed, with a hump."

  "Oh.' Her face fell and the hand dropped away.

  "Thanks for your help, Mrs Grigg." I took the bill off the counter. The amount would be added to our monthly account, but I was the one who would lose sleep over whether the sheep fleece would make enough to pay off the invoice when it came due.

  Alice elbowed me as soon as we left the shop. "What did you tell her that for? You know as well as I do that he's quite dreamy. Not as handsome as my Frank, but he measures up all right."

  "I'm trying to lay a false trail. Poor chap, they'll be thrashing around in the undergrowth soon trying to scare him out into the open." The words blew through my hollow chest like a premonition of winter on the wind. I couldn't forget the way he looked at me at the manse, as though I were some cold demon gleefully dispatching locals. I had lost his regard before I ever really had it.

  We walked home. At least one benefit came from the Great War, skirt hems were raised to just above ankle length and it made the journey much easier. There was far less fabric to pull on my every step.

  "So," I said once we cleared the last of the thatched-roofed houses. "How exactly did you meet dreamy Frank?"

  A wonderful smile lit Alice's face at the mention of his name. Poor thing was bitten bad by the love bug. Although I could see why, he was handsome enough. Lord knows what effect Frank and Seth would have on every available women in Somerset, the two of them together were quite overpowering. And now that I thought about it, there was something similar about the build and bearing.

  "It was just over a month ago," Alice interrupted my thoughts of Seth and consideration of his physical attributes. "I met him in the village, he had driven over from London to tell them at the big house that his lordship would be returning soon."

  "And you just fell into conversation with the handsome young stranger?" Alice had a ready smile and a few kind words for most people. Stranger or local, she would stop to chat.

  She paused as though searching for the right words, stealing a glance sideways at me. "Actually I tripped over him, he was lounging against the motor with those long legs of his in the way. Once he helped me up, he felt obliged to offer me a ride home."

  I nearly believed her, except for the cunning smile and mischief shining in her eyes.

  "Tripped, huh?" I hope I conveyed enough scepticism.

  She swallowed a laugh. "Well, possibly I was distracted staring at him, and didn't see his feet until too late."

  I burst out laughing, that sounded more likely. "I c
an understand the distraction. First time I laid eyes on Seth my brain stopped working."

  "You like him, then?" There was that mischievous streak, plain and clear and intent on getting me in more trouble.

  What to say? Seth made the butterflies in my stomach riot and my skin flare at his touch. He was also a duke, and I had spent the morning cleaning the latrine. Not to mention the marks against my soul for my part in this unholy war. "I like his company, but don't go getting ideas, Alice. Louise has already called dibs on him."

  A small part of me also thought my friend was shepherding me along the path to heartbreak. One of us needed to keep a firm grasp on reality and see events for what they were, a brief summer interlude.

  Alice made a noise in her throat that I couldn't quite interpret. "We better get a move on, we have lots to do this afternoon and tomorrow."

  Chapter Nine

  I often wondered if without Louise and Elizabeth, whether Charlotte and I might have become friends. The last time I was punished, I thought I saw a sadness in her eyes, whereas the other two laughed as the switch fell. When we're alone she treats me as an equal, but her persona changes around her mother and sister. Only when the beating was over and they had left the room, would she offer to paint my back red with mercurochrome and help the shirt over my shoulders before she ran off to find Alice.

  A sigh escaped my chest, but she will always be influenced by her mother, just as I am. Like marionettes, we are meant to dance to different tunes.

  "What are you sighing about over there?" Alice asked from across the table. Or it looked more like an azure ocean, as the delicate fabric we stitched spilled over the distance between us.

  I shook my head, scattering all the lost opportunities. "Nothing." Well, slightly more than nothing. There was the little fact that today was my birthday and no one had remembered. I didn't expect them to notice, but I thought Alice and Madga might have said something.

  "Anyone for more tea? I'm parched from licking the end of my thread." Magda laid down her sewing, refilled the kettle, and set it to boil.

  "Yes, please," Alice and I said in unison.

  I worked the muscles loose in my neck and shoulders. For nearly two days solid we had cut, pinned, and sewed. Somehow, miraculously, a new gown turned up in this morning's mail for Elizabeth. Although I suspect it had a lot to do with a long telephone conversation she held yesterday. The bill for the dress had fluttered to the floor, and my eyes nearly bulged out of my head at the expense. On the bright side, we had only to adjust Louise's dress and sew Charlotte's harem pants. By mutual agreement, we decided to work as hard as we had to. We could have finished earlier in the day, but I'm sure she had a list of other jobs waiting for us that Alice and I wanted to avoid. Sitting in the kitchen for two days, chatting and drinking tea, was practically a holiday.

  We were nearly done and had only to add the silver embroidered around the leg cuffs. Just as well, they would holler soon for help dressing. We drank our tea and enjoyed a moment of silence as the setting sun caressed the roof of the barn out the window and slivers of light danced over the table.

  "Cheer up, you two," Magda said over the rim of her plain teacup. Only upstairs got to use the fine bone porcelain. In the kitchen, we used the rough local-made pottery. "Look at it this way — with all three of them out for the evening, we have the evening off."

  That made me smile. Stewart and Henry would accompany them to the big house, and it would just be us three women for the night. I could sit and read to father without worrying about Elizabeth ordering me out, muttering about it being a waste of time.

  "Father is looking better," I said. "His eyes are tracking my movements, and today I saw him turn his head to look out the window."

  Magda reached out and squeezed my hand. "That's a wonderful sign. He will soon return to us, you wait and see."

  Yes, I believed in my heart he would.

  Our quiet reflection was shattered all too soon when Charlotte burst into the kitchen. Her mouth made a silent oh as she stared at the insubstantial garment that Alice held in her hand, cutting the last thread.

  "Is that mine?" she breathed. She reached out and touched the soft material. "Thank you."

  She really could be a lovely human being, as long as she was on her own and not having her strings pulled by the other two.

  "Our pleasure," Magda said. "You will cause quite a ripple, I'm sure."

  Charlotte beamed, kind words were rarely thrown her way and she snapped them up like a hungry dog. Then she remembered her original mission. "They're complaining already. Could you come upstairs and help now, please?"

  I steeled myself for the oncoming onslaught. I wonder if this is what our brave men felt like standing in the trenches, taking that last deep breath before they scrambled up the ladders and out into no-man's land. Probably not exactly the same, the shells that dropped tonight would be verbal, but they would still wound. Surely the sense of lead-weighted dread must be similar. There was a question to put to Henry, which task would he rather undertake – charging at Gerry with his bayonet fixed, or help them to get dressed?

  Alice took my hand and hauled me up the stairs. "Come on; the sooner we start, the sooner they are on their way."

  Good point, Alice. Before too long, the room upstairs certainly looked like a battle had been fought, bombs dropped and a bit of rough hand to hand. The wardrobes hung open and clothing was scattered on the floor, tossed on chairs, or clinging to the side of lamps. We had to go through practically everything to find the right undergarments, chemises, and stockings.

  A calm had now fallen as all the women were nearly done. Charlotte looked stunning in her harem pants, like an escaped exotic concubine. Louise was sulking that pants were her idea all along, and how stupid were we to mess up the measurements and make them to fit Charlotte. I wouldn't put it past her to spill something on her sister so the poor girl would have to change.

  Both Vogue and Les Modes, the French fashion periodicals, lay open on the dresser as Alice and I try to crimp short hair into the small waves taking the world by storm. Giselle had done a fabulous cut on them the previous day, and both sisters now sported the exact same gamin style. Neither of us was a ladies maid and we struggled to follow the latest fashion, when we really didn't know what we were doing. Louise and Charlotte buzzed about the forthcoming party.

  "He will of course, only have eyes for me," Louise laid her claim, ensuring Charlotte knew to keep her hands off. "When we encountered him on our ride he couldn't tear himself from my side."

  I saw it differently. Louise plastered herself to the man, and he was too polite to scrape her off. She would have climbed onto his horse if he hadn't stayed on the offside – Louise couldn't manoeuvre herself in the side-saddle to get to him.

  "And I hear he returned from action with an interesting scar on his torso," Louise continued. "I shall report back when I find it." The two women giggled.

  An interesting scar, as opposed to a life threatening one obtained while defending his country. As if men acquired scars like women did hats. Did they stand around and discuss the best place for a bullet to hit to impress the ladies? A quick bayonet to the ribs but not too deep, thanks chaps?

  "Ouch!" Louise cried and promptly slapped my face. "Careful you slattern, you pulled my hair."

  I rubbed my cheek as she peered at her reflection in the mirror. "Sorry," I managed between tight-ground lips. Thinking of Seth was dangerous, I could lose myself in that forest and he would never come look for me.

  At long last they were declared satisfactory for the evening with splendid outfits, crimped hair, rogued cheeks, and red lips. All I wanted to do was sink into a bath while Alice read me a book. I was too tired to hold one up, or even turn the pages for myself.

  Stewart tapped on the door, smart in his driver's uniform that she insisted he wear when he drove the motorcar, as though they were proper aristocrats and not the bottom rung of the gentry. She muttered under her breath as Stewart held a hushed co
nversation with her.

  An ugly, deep frown marred her brow. "If it cannot be helped," she said.

  Stewart nodded, threw me an apologetic look and slipped back down the hall. Uh oh.

  Lady Jeffrey took one look at my brown trousers and man's linen shirt and shook her head. "No. Absolutely not. This will not do."

  The hands went heavenwards in horror, and I wondered what the problem was; never before had she complained of me wearing trousers while working around the house. Although technically, that wasn't true. She complained a lot, I just ignored her for the most part. I suspect this had something to do with Stewart's news.

  "The mute cannot accompany us due to some precious livestock dropping its offspring at an inconvenient time."

  That would be one of the heifers that the bull got into late. Poor thing was a maiden and probably having a hard time of it. Although naturally she had crossed her legs until now, just to inconvenience step-mother.

  "You are to ride as our protection, Eleanor."

  Oh, bugger. I saw my lovely, hot bath being emptied into the yard. I would cry, but I was too worn out to muster up the tears. My notebook of horrors needed a new column, entitled: things Henry owes me for.

  Elizabeth glided to the wardrobe, rummaged in the back, and pulled out a pale apple-green gown of Charlotte's. "Put this on, it is too small and unfashionable for Charlotte. We need to maintain a modicum of decency, in case someone sees you while you're lurking with the motors and other servants."

  Charlotte smiled and Louise scoffed as I took the gown. "I don't think we need her at all, I hear the vermin have quite gone from London."

  "We're not in London, dear, and I do not intend to take the risk." Elizabeth reminded her daughter with a sharp tone. "Besides, Eleanor is farm raised and used to wielding a shotgun. Get changed quickly. We want to be fashionably late, but we can't have anyone getting the jump on Louise's claim."

  Heck. No time to go to the attic room, so I headed in the opposite direction, to the kitchen with Alice hot on my heels. I pulled the shirt over my head as I trotted along the hallway, and burst into the kitchen in trousers and my chemise.