Chapter 29

W hen the first bird chirped, Ella peeled herself off the cold ground covered in a dusting of snow. The sun began to peek over the horizon and soon the day would come. In the distance, the clock tower from Whitebridge Palace clanged six times telling her the hour. She brushed her palms down her skirt, then smoothed her hair. She was, at least, still dressed in the wool dress and cloak from Rovenheim. On the ground at her feet was the empty vial. She bent to pick it up. It was the only thing she had to remember Noella and Nicholas.

With a resigned sigh, she pulled open the back door and stepped into the kitchen. She halted in the doorway, gaping at the utter disaster before her.

The fireplace was cold and dark, ashes piled under the grate. Dirty dishes littered the table in the center of the room. Dust covered every inch of countertop. The cupboard doors stood open, the contents empty. Even the floor was dirty. It was enough to make her want to walk away forever and never look back.

She shuddered to think what the rest of the house looked like if the kitchen was this bad.

There was no sense in standing around feeling sorry for herself. Taking a deep breath, she pulled off her cloak and hung it by the door. Then she shoved up the sleeves of her gown and got to work.

She needed water from the well to start washing dishes. She found the discarded pail by the backdoor and snatched it up. With every step outside to the well, her ire rose. How could they have allowed the kitchen to get into such a state? And if the cupboards were bare, what were they surviving on?

After retrieving water, she headed back inside to build a fire. She couldn’t wash dishes with cold water. But there was no wood in the firewood rack. Back outside, she found a small stack by the shed. As she grabbed a few, she halted and peered around the yard. It suddenly occurred to her there were no animals. No chickens. No dog. An eerie sensation went over her.

Back inside, she dropped the logs, the fire forgotten. She had to see what was going on in the rest of the house. She pushed through the kitchen door and froze.

The house was a disaster. Dust coated every surface. All the silver was tarnished. Trash littered the floor. Furniture was either missing or tipped over.

What day was it? How long had she been gone?

On the dining table was a discarded newspaper with the headline announcing the royal Christmas ball. The ball in which she’d met and danced with Nicholas. Next to it, a paper announcing the wedding of the crown prince with a circular tea stain splotched across the story. The newspaper was dated one week after the ball.

With her heart in her throat, she hurried through to the stairs and ascended. The bedroom doors were closed. At the top of the stairs, she hesitated, shaking from head to toe. The house was silent.

Thinking of her own third-floor room, she rushed up the stairs, flung open the door and halted. Everything was as she left it. The shabby curtains at the window. The few Christmas decorations she had managed to use including the tiny star on top of the tree. The lumpy bed. She sagged against the doorframe, suddenly relieved to see her mother’s decorations still in place. At least they hadn’t taken that from her.

Back downstairs, she went to her stepmother’s bedroom and knocked.

There was no response.

She gripped the knob in her sweating hand and turned, pushing it open a crack to peer inside.

The room was empty. She flung open the door open and stepped inside. The bed was still unmade, the blankets rumpled as if her stepmother rose that morning and decided to leave the house. There were still a few gowns in the wardrobe.

Next, she checked her stepsisters’ bedroom. Also empty with rumpled beds.

The house was deserted for now, but the clothes left behind indicated they would be back.

She pressed her cold, shaking fingers to her lips.

All that time in Rovenheim she worried about returning to her stepmother, to her outrage that she had been gone for…well, she didn’t know for how long. A week, possibly longer. Relief sputtered through her at the thought that she was gone. But was she gone for good? And if not, then for how long?

Her relief was short-lived when she realized she had no money and no means to take care of the house or the upkeep. How would she survive?

Her stomach rumbled. Back downstairs, she rummaged through the kitchen looking for any scrap of food. There was nothing. No eggs, no flour, not even tea. She cut a glance at her cloak hanging by the backdoor and decided to walk to the market.

The market was a bustle of activity. She paused at the entrance, taking it all in. All the holiday decorations had been removed, so she assumed the festivities had passed. The Christmas ball had been planned a few weeks before the holiday. It was her only point of reference.

With her stomach rumbling again, she headed to the grocer in the hopes Mr. Gibson would take pity on her and let her buy food and put it on their account. She had no idea if her wretched stepmother managed to pay the bill or not and guilt swarmed through her as she remembered her promise to the man she’d pay up by the end of the week.

That was before she’d disappeared to Rovenheim.

The bell tinkled as she entered the store, the basket on her arm. She approached the counter where Mr. Gibson was finishing up with a customer. As the woman took her purchase, she turned toward Ella. She recognized her as Mrs. FitzGerald who lived a few doors down from them. The woman’s eyes flew open with shock.

“Ella? Ella Tremaine?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“Where have you been?” Mrs. FitzGerald asked.

“Uh…” She wasn’t sure how to answer.

Mr. Gibson bustled around the end of the counter. He swept Ella into a fierce hug. “When we learned you disappeared, we all feared the worst.”

He pulled back, holding her at arm’s length and looking her over. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine. I was…out of town,” she said, stumbling over her words.

“Well, your stepmother sure had no information about that,” Mrs. FitzGerald said, sounding indignant. “She said you ran off. Didn’t seem at all concerned about your whereabouts.”

Ella cringed. That sounded like her stepmother.

“We all knew you didn’t, though,” Mr. Gibson said. “We feared she’d done something to you.”

Her brows grew together. “What do you mean?”

“I think what Mr. Gibson is trying to say is,” Mrs. FitzGerald added, “that no one trusts that Lillian Tremain or her wretched daughters.” She sniffed derision to punctuate exactly what she thought of the woman.

“She’d tried to hire another servant, but no one would work for her,” Mr. Gibson added. “We all know what sort of disposition the woman has. She’s…” he paused, cleared his throat, “difficult.”

And now that Ella was back, they had their servant back.

“And now she’s remarried and has been on holiday for the last two weeks,” Mrs. FitzGerald said.

“Remarried?” The word trickled out of her on a rough whisper.

“A rich fellow,” Mr. Gibson said. “Named Livingstone.”

Ella couldn’t quite contain the shock rolling through her as she took in all the news.

“Word is he intends to hire a few servants once they return,” Mr. Gibson said.

Mrs. FitzGerald snorted. “Ha. I doubt even he can get anyone to work for that woman. Sorry to run, but I must be on my way. Ella, I’m glad to see you. If you need anything, please do come see me. I’m only a few doors down.”

Ella nodded as the woman waved farewell and exited the shop. Mr. Gibson put his hands on his hips, still giving her a good once over. He noticed her basket then.

“Apologies, Ella. You came in for groceries, not for the local gossip. What can I get you?”

Truthfully, Ella was glad for the local gossip. It gave her the information she needed when—and if—her stepmother and her new husband returned from their travels. It would also give her time to clean the house from top to bottom.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come in to pay the bill—” she started.

“Mr. Livingstone paid it in full,” he interrupted, waving away the thought as he headed back behind the counter.

So, Lillian Tremain—now Livingstone—managed to find herself a rich husband to pay all her debts. The ones she created using her father’s money, while still living in her father’s house. She tried her best to squelch the anger that rose in her, but it was difficult. She pressed her lips together in a thin line.

“I see.”

He sensed her ire and gave her a small smile. “So, what can I get you?” Then he leaned forward and whispered, “and make sure all the items are expensive. ”

Ella returned with so much food, she needed another basket to carry it all. Sugar, flour, tea, potatoes, carrots, bread, eggs, and even a slab of lean beef.

Once she was back home and all the items were unloaded and put away, she set to work cleaning the kitchen. She built a fire, brewed some tea, washed all the dishes and put them away. Then swept, mopped, and dusted. Finally, she was able to pause long enough to make her a light dinner.

By then, she was exhausted. The sun had started to set. She remained in the chair at the old, scarred, table with a cup of tea watching the fire flicker. Where was Nicholas? Was he missing her? She certainly hoped so. She missed him terribly.

She moved from the table to stoke the fire, sitting on her knees. Her lids grew heavy. The thought of walking up three flights of stairs to her room seemed daunting. She pillowed her head on her arms, watching the flames and, moments later, was fast asleep.

Nicholas sat alone in the wing-backed chair in his royal bedchamber with his legs stretched out in front of him brooding. The cup of tea he held had long since gone cold and he didn’t have the energy to move and get a fresh one.

Every day since Ella left had been a day of misery. Ten days. He’d counted.

He wanted to ask her to stay with him, but she had looked so sad he assumed she was desperately homesick. She’d disappeared so quickly with the fairy dust his mother gave her, there was no prolonged farewell.

Perhaps that was for the best.

The holiday season was officially over. His father, the king, had returned from his worldly travels. His mother was also in residence, her task of spreading the Spirit of Christmas at last complete. Though he tried to enjoy the holiday with his family, there was definitely something missing. He had a hole in his heart. A hole only Ella could fill.

A sharp knock on his door interrupted his gloominess. Without waiting for him to grant entrance, the door opened and his mother bustled in. Her silvery hair hung in long, messy waves about her face with a pinched expression.

“I’ve just had a message,” she announced without preamble. She paused for dramatic effect. “From Captain Bart.”

He turned away from the fireplace and peered at his mother. She stood with her hands on her hips looking defiant.

“And?” he asked.

“He says he found a pair of delicate glass slippers in his quarters and wondered what to do with them. He finally decided they must have belonged to the ‘girl with the luminous eyes,’” she put quotes around the girl with the luminous eyes. “Nicholas, she left them behind.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose, Mother.”

“Well, you have to take them back to her.”

He jumped to his feet. “I will do no such thing.”

He marched across the room, eyeing the teapot. She followed.

“Why not?”

“Because she doesn’t want to see me.”

“Poppycock!” she said and then huffed.

Nicholas ignored her as he refilled his teacup, wishing it was something stronger. He added a dollop of cream and stirred, trying to put thoughts of Ella and the glass slippers out of his mind.

“Nicholas, darling.” She moved to stand next to him, her tone softening, as she placed a hand on his arm. “Why didn’t you ask her to stay?”

He frowned into the tawny liquid. “She seemed homesick, so I never did.”

“I don’t think she was homesick,” she said.

He cut her a sharp glance, his indignation rising. “Then why did you give her the means to return home?”

She dropped her hand. “It was an opportunity for you two to discuss your feelings for each other.”

“Feelings, Mother?”

“Yes. I know you have them.” She gave him a pointed look. “I thought if faced with the real possibility of her leaving Rovenheim, you would ask her stay. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes, of course, Mother. But she—”

“She didn’t know how to ask you. I truly think she wanted to, but she was afraid you would turn her down.”

He raked a hand through his hair and huffed out a breath. “Why would I refuse her?”

“Because she doesn’t know you love her.”

He snapped his head in her direction and saw the twinkling of knowledge deep within the blue eyes. Resignation made his shoulders droop.

“We hardly know each other.”

“Bah!” She flung her hands up in frustration. “Son, she is the one for you. She has the Spirit of Christmas deep inside her. I saw it in her the first moment I met her. It’s why I went to all the trouble of getting you both to that ball.”

“So, you did have a hand in that!” He wagged an accusatory finger at her.

“Of course, I did. I knew the glass slippers would lead her to her true love.” She winked.

He understood his mother was a meddler. He also understood she wanted him to wed and soon because, as she said, she and his father weren’t getting any younger. She wanted grandchildren and, beyond that, Rovenheim needed an heir. He, however, did not realize the lengths she would go to make all that happen.

“And they did,” she added.

“The legend is true then.”

“It’s all true. Why do you think Malvina wanted them so badly? She intended to use the power within them to bend our will to hers. She wants nothing more than to rule Rovenheim, but I made sure she would never escape her fortress again.”

“You used magic.”

“Naturally,” she said with a nod. “But all that aside, are you going to take Ella the slippers? Because your constant brooding is really too much.” He started to reply when she held up a hand and said, “Let me try again. You are going to take Ella the slippers and bring her home.”

He grinned. “Yes, Mother. I am .”