Chapter 1

T he chiming of the clock tower in Whitebridge clanged the early morning hour. It was a faint bong, bong, bong that Ella counted as she laid awake in her narrow, lumpy bed under the thin blanket dreading the coming day. Dread was part of her morning routine now.

Sunlight peeked through the shabby draperies at her window as dawn arrived. Even as another day of labor loomed, nothing killed the spirit of the season inside her. Not even her stepmother and stepsisters. Not even their nasty dispositions or the fact that her stepmother, Lillian, refused to decorate for Christmas.

Except for a sad looking tree in the foyer with a few decorations.

But Ella was not to be dissuaded. She dragged out all her mother’s favorite decorations and placed them around her shabby third-floor bedroom, trying to make the drab appearance a bit more cheerful. She placed her favorite decoration on the top of the tree—a beautiful gold star.

She loved Christmas.

She shoved the blanket aside and walked to the window, pushing open the curtain to peer down at the estate that had fallen into disrepair. Since her father’s disappearance on a merchant trip several years ago, Lillian squandered what was left of the estate’s money on satin and lace, shoes and parasols for her two spoiled daughters. Meanwhile, the small manor they lived in needed many repairs.

In the distance, the offending clock tower stood tall and proud and ruled her day. From her window, the peak of it was clear as well as the high turrets and heraldry of Whitebridge Palace. What was it like living in a castle? Would she be a maid as she was here? Or would she find herself as one of the noble ladies wearing beautiful gowns and having her every whim attended?

She sighed when the rooster crowed. It was time to start the day. She looked out as the sun peeked over the horizon, illuminating the outline of the castle beyond and the dusting of snow on the cold ground.

“One day, Papa,” she whispered, “I will find my way out of here.”

She often spoke to her father, even though he’d been gone all these long years.

She dressed, tied her long dark hair back with a blue ribbon, and headed down to the kitchen for the day. She put a tea kettle on to boil. Outside, she fed the chickens and gathered eggs, petted the dog, and gave the cat his breakfast. In the distance, at the pond, geese honked their arrival. She smiled. Later she would walk out to the edge of the pond and feed them, too.

The servant’s bell rang. Her stepmother. She poured hot water into the tea kettle, made a breakfast of porridge, eggs, and toast, and then carried it up to the woman’s room. At the top of the stairs, she turned right and headed down the hall to the largest bedroom. She rapped twice and waited.

“Enter,” came the abrupt, muffled response.

Ella pushed open the door. Just as she did, the cat sprinted past her and hopped onto the oversized bed where her stepmother sat waiting for her breakfast. The woman’s salt-and-pepper hair was tucked under her nightcap. Crinkles were at the corners of each eye and her mouth was drawn down into a permanent grimace. No doubt due to being unhappy for so many years. Her thin lips were a deep red, high severe cheekbones and a chin that ended in a point. She petted the cat, her long slender fingers ruffling the fur between his shoulders. Loud purrs emanated from the small feline.

“Good morning, Stepmother,” she greeted in her best pleasant voice.

“Where is my newspaper?” her stepmother asked.

“I’ll fetch it for you.” Ella placed the tray with the breakfast on the woman’s lap. She did a quick curtsy then dashed from the room.

She hurried down the stairs to the front door and pulled it open. The rolled-up paper was on the doorstep as usual. But even so, Ella saw the hint of the headline. Something about a royal decree. As she snatched it off the stoop, she heard Lucinda shouting her name.

“ Ella! Where is my breakfast?”

Ella hurried back up the stairs to her stepmother’s room, her chest heaving a bit and her legs burning from her brief sprint. Jet had curled up next to her in the bed, eyeing the breakfast tray.

“Your newspaper, stepmother.”

She scowled as she snatched it from Ella’s hands, then opened it with a snap. She glowered at her over the edge of the paper.

“What are you gawking at, girl? Don’t you have chores?”

Another quick curtsy. “Yes, Stepmother.”

“ ELLA!” Lucinda shouted again.

Ella hurried back down the stairs to the kitchen. As she arrived, the other two bells were ringing. One for Lucinda and one for Daniella. She quickly made their breakfast trays. It was a balancing act, but she managed to carry both at the same time back up the stairs. By the time she arrived at the landing, her legs were burning and her arms ached. She used her elbow to push open the door to Lucinda’s room.

“There you are! You lazy thing.”

Lucinda might have been pretty if not for her ugly personality. She had unruly red hair, bright blue eyes, a bulbous nose, which Ella assumed she got from her father, a square chin, and a face rather like a horse. She was tall and lanky and flat chested. Her taste in gowns was ostentatious in bright, horrid colors. And while her stepmother gave her singing lessons, the girl couldn’t carry a tune for anything.

“Good morning, Lucinda.”

“About time you came. I was about to waste away to nothing!”

Ella resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she placed the serving tray on Lucinda’s lap. She hurried out of the room to avoid any more chastising. At Daniella’s room, she knocked once and then pushed open the door. Daniella was unlike her sister. Her black hair was long, her eyes the color of coal. She had a long, thin nose much like her mother’s that gave her a pinched expression and a nasal sound to her voice. She was plump around the middle and short. Her taste in clothes was somewhat subdued compared to her sister, but she still favored bright colors in loud patterns.

“Good morning, Daniella.”

“You’re late,” the girl snapped. “And why does Lucinda always get her breakfast first? It’s not fair.”

As the youngest, Daniella often felt as though she was slighted. Ella said nothing as she placed the tray on the girl’s lap and then scurried out of the room.

“You didn’t open my drapes!” Daniella shouted.

Ella halted and immediately returned to the room. She pushed aside the heavy velvet draperies on the one window, letting the morning sun into the shadowy confines of the room. When she shoved open the drapes, dust motes danced in the slashes of sunlight.

“When are you going to clean my drapes?” the girl complained and then sneezed. “See what it does to me?”

“Tomorrow, Daniella.”

“I think you should do it today .”

But today was market day. “I will try.”

“If you don’t do it, I’ll tell my mother!” It was always her go-to threat.

“Yes, Daniella.”

Ella understood that was the only correct response when it came to those threats. She nodded and hurried out of the room before she was assigned more chores that weren’t on her list today.

She scurried back down to the kitchen. Once there, she put on her walking shoes, threw her threadbare shawl around her shoulders and tied a kerchief over her hair. She snatched up the small basket she used for vegetables and fruit, but when she headed for the backdoor, her stepmother rang the servant’s bell again. It was a never-ending cycle with them.

Ella removed the shawl and the kerchief and placed the basket on the counter. She returned to her stepmother’s room to collect her empty breakfast dishes.

“Ella, the paper says there’s a royal decree.”

She tapped the news print with her index finger, the blue jeweled ring glittering in the early morning light. Mischievous excitement crossed her stepmother’s features.

“There’s to be a royal Christmas ball in one week’s time in which the prince will select his bride from all the eligible maidens of the kingdom. All are invited!”

“A ball?” Ella gasped.

“Yes, a ball, you dolt,” she snapped. “We must see what appropriate gowns the girls have to wear. If we need to have dresses made, I will need to go to town this afternoon.” She paused and gave Ella a glare with her beady blue eyes. “Well? Why are you standing there?” She snapped her fingers. “Get to it!”

“You said all eligible maidens,” she said. “Does that mean I can go, too?”

“You?” she said and laughed. Then she tapped her chin with her forefinger. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

Elation skipped through her. She had never been to a ball before. She hoped she had something to wear. Perhaps something of her mother’s even if it was a tad out of fashion.

“Oh, thank you, Stepmother. Thank—”

“But…” She said, interrupting her momentary joy. “All your chores must be finished by then including helping with the gowns for the girls. The mending, the sewing, the cleaning, the cooking. All of it.”

Her heart sank, but still a tiny bit of hope glimmered deep down. Perhaps she would be able to get it all done in time for the ball.

“Yes, Stepmother. Of course.”

“Now, be gone.” She waved her away with the swish of a hand.

As Ella headed for the door, Lucinda and Daniella rushed in, their eyes alight with excitement.

“Mother! Did I hear you say there was to be a royal ball?” Lucinda said.

Ella had no doubt Lucinda eavesdropped on their conversation and then brought Daniella along with her to gossip about the upcoming ball with their mother. As she made her way down the stairs, her heart sank lower and lower and she understood she would not be going to the market today or the ball.