Authors: Elizabeth Townsend
“Nervous? It couldn’t have been their first ball, could it?”
“No, but I think they’re afraid that if they don’t meet husbands there, it could be their
last
ball.”
“But why?”
“They don’t want to go into society unless they look the part.” I paused and stared down into my tea. I understood how my stepsisters felt. “These are probably the last ball dresses that Stepmama will be able to afford, so this may be the last Season they have.”
My godmother stirred her tea, considering. “What about their rich cousin, the duke? Isn’t he the one who inherited from their father?”
“Yes, and he’s already offered to let them live in the dower-house, on his estate, and I think Stepmama would do it, except Lucy and Gerta don’t want to. They say they refuse to be stuck out in the country, that there are no prospects there.”
“In other words, no husbands.”
“And they’re probably right! But I hope at least one of them does find a husband in town. If one made a good match, the other could live with her, and Stepmama and I could go live in the dower-house.”
“Would you care for that?”
I rubbed my teacup thoughtfully with a finger. “It used to be, no. I hated the idea, mostly for the same reason as Lucy and Gerta. But now I’m not so sure. My mother grew up in the country, after all.”
“Indeed she did, both your parents did, and they loved it.” Mrs. Wilkins took a last bite of pie, then added, “She was my dearest friend, you know, and my closest neighbor, back when we were children.”
“I know you were friends, and you all lived in Little Owlthorpe, but Mama died when I was so little—and when Papa talked about it I’m afraid I didn’t listen very well.” I took a hasty sip of tea.
“Well, your mother’s family and mine were farmers. Your father’s family was in trade.”
“They had a dry goods shop. Papa used to mention it.” I bit my lip as I remembered how furious I’d been when he mentioned it in front of Lucy and Gerta.
“Yes. Your grandfather started out small, but ended up doing quite well; then your father got into imports and exports and such. I don’t know much about it, but he made a tidy sum of money.”
“Was that before he got married?”
“Partly. He was quite well off when he proposed to Abby, and he made even more after their marriage.”
I leaned forward in my chair. “Mama must have been in heaven, going from poor to rich like that.”
Mrs. Wilkins considered and took a sip of tea. “I know they were very much in love, and she was very happy in the beginning. The year after you were born, they lived in a lovely house in the village, with two or three servants and a garden Abby could work in—oh, she loved it. It suited her; she liked being prosperous, but she was bred to be a farmer’s wife, after all. And it isn’t as if she had been dirt poor; her father was quite a well-to-do farmer.”
She paused and smiled, but her eyes were sad. “Then the business started taking more of your father’s time, and he got ideas of moving up in society. The house in the village wasn’t good enough; your father wanted to build, so your mother found herself mistress of a house that was practically a mansion, with servants to do all the work, and herself expected to be a great lady and not lift a finger! Well, it’s not what she was brought up to, and it’s not what she liked, especially the nursemaids and such for you. ‘I never take care of my baby anymore,’ she told me.”
I sat silently, pushing my last bite of pie around with my fork, and I thought of my mother living in a world that didn’t feel like her own.
“I wish I had known some of this. But I was only six when she caught the fever and died, and it’s true, I remember my nurse better than her. I only remember she was beautiful and always dressed in wonderful clothes. I wanted to be just like her when I grew up.”
“A fine lady,” said Mrs. Wilkins thoughtfully. “But I tell you, Ella, your mother would have been prouder of this pie than of any finery that you wear.”
I sighed. “I’m glad, even though I really did want to be a ‘fine lady,’ too.”
“That’s not surprising. It’s what you were brought up to be. The plans your father made! Which brings me to another reason for my visit tonight.” She stood up briskly, picked up her parcel, and put it on my lap. “This is for you, dear.”
As I looked at her in surprise, she added, eyes twinkling, “Open it, now! We don’t have all night!”
Curiously, I untied the string and unwrapped the paper. A glint of gold flashed against a background of daffodil yellow; the soft feel of silk met my fingertips. My eyes were wide and my mouth open as I slowly stood up and shook out the most beautiful ball gown I had ever seen.
Godmother didn’t leave me time to stand and gape. She was busy about me, holding up the dress to my shoulders and waist with a critical eye. “I think I gauged this pretty well,” she said with satisfaction. “Still, you need to try it on. Go on, now!” And she shooed me behind my screen, saying, “Come on out when you’re done!”
In a daze, I pulled off my dress and gently slipped on the ball gown. It had a low neck and gold chiffon trim; it fell about me rich and heavy. I glided out from behind the screen.
Mrs. Wilkins bustled about me, looking and pinning. “Just a tuck here and we’ll be done,” she said with satisfaction. “Now go wash up and find the jewelry your mother left you, then we’ll do your hair!”
“Do...what?” I asked, still feeling dazed.
“You’re going to the ball. Now scoot!”
I scooted. I took off the dress and washed up while my godmother sewed and talked. “I’ve been waiting for this night for some time,” she said, deftly threading her needle. “We planned this years ago, Abby and I, how I’d make your first ball dress. Now you do have an invitation, don’t you?”
I laughed a little hysterically. “Yes, I kept the card. But I can’t believe any of this. I was so sure I wasn’t going!”
“Well, you won’t have much time there if your stepmother and sisters are arriving at midnight. You’ll have to leave before they get there.”
“I don’t care! Anything is better than nothing!”
“I’m glad you think so. There won’t be a fancy carriage or any such thing.”
“Then how will I go?”
“I hired one from the stables. It should be here in fifteen minutes.”
“Oh, Godmother!” I wrapped myself in a robe and went in search of my best petticoats and my mother’s diamond pin. “I can never pay you back, or even thank you enough!”
“You’ve paid me with pumpkin pie.” Mrs. Wilkins finished the seam and trimmed the thread. “Now let’s see about your hair.”
Together we brushed it and pinned it up, a few dark curls trailing down my neck. “You don’t need a lot of ornaments,” said my godmother. “Now for the dress.” The gleaming cloud of gold and yellow settled around me, and she pinned the diamonds at my neck in a satisfied manner and handed me a pair of long yellow gloves. “Oh, that’s lovely, very lovely. Where’s a mirror?”
I ran upstairs into the hall, then stopped, heart pounding, before my reflection. A dark-haired, elegant young lady looked at me, fashionable, glowing. I turned before the mirror, transfixed.
“Ella!” The voice brought me back. I ran downstairs again, nearly floating. “Well! You’re ready then, except for the slippers. Try these on, they’re very special, they’re made of vair.”
“What?” My mind went back to my language lessons. “
Verre
? Doesn’t that mean glass? For
slippers
?”
Mrs. Wilkins chuckled. “Glass! For a dance? They’d smash to smithereens! No, this vair is a kind of squirrel fur that isn’t used much these days, but it’s similar to ermine, and I thought you’d need something warm. After all, it is October!” She handed me two dark leather slippers lined with soft black and white fur.
“They’re wonderful!” I slipped them on. “But this one’s a bit big—”
“Is it? My, you do have tiny feet. Perhaps—”
Just then the clop of hooves and the crunch of carriage wheels sounded outside. “That’s the carriage,” said my godmother. “Quick now, you want to have all the time you can. Would you like my handkerchief to stuff in the shoe?”
I reached over and embraced her. “No, I think it’ll be all right. And how can I ever thank you?”
“By having a wonderful time.”
There was a knock at the door upstairs. I tied on my cloak with trembling fingers, and Godmother led the way up the stairs and opened the front door. In the flicker of streetlights, I could see a sturdy carriage waiting outside.
“Goodbye, and thank you again—” I whispered, turning and clasping Mrs. Wilkins’s hand.
“Now, now—don’t forget, it’ll pick you up at midnight.” She blinked mistily, and I turned to the driver, who handed me up into the carriage. As he latched the door, I sat forward and looked out the window. Godmother was waving, then chuckling, and as the carriage rolled off I faintly heard, “Glass slippers, indeed!”
10
At the Ball
The ballroom glowed with the light of a thousand candles. Music and the chatter of hundreds of voices filled every corner of the room as dozens of richly dressed couples danced. It was intoxicating—it was thrilling—and I was hiding behind a potted palm.
It wasn’t easy, I had discovered, to go to a ball and remain incognito. There were people there that I recognized. When I handed my card to the royal footman and he announced me, I trembled lest someone hear him. Luckily the ballroom was noisy, and his “Miss Merton” went unnoticed.
Then, almost the first person I saw after I slipped through the hall into the ballroom was Anna Cameron. I wanted to rush over and greet her, and I started to, but— How could I explain?
Anna, I’m here, but you mustn’t tell my stepmama! She thinks I’m home scrubbing the pans!
No. That wouldn’t do at all, and as I moved away from her, I made another unwelcome discovery. If I had to avoid everyone I knew, then who would introduce me to prospective dancing partners? It was all very confusing, and it had finally led me to the potted palm, where I stood nibbling a cake I had plucked from a passing footman’s tray.
A waltz was playing, and peering through the fronds, I could see Anna dancing with Mr. Totley among the whirling crowd. I sighed and brushed the crumbs from my hands. This was going to take some serious thought. Meanwhile, the room was growing uncomfortably warm. I slipped out from behind the palm and skirted around the edge of the ballroom, surreptitiously glancing behind curtains until I found one concealing a glass-paned door that opened onto a terrace. Perhaps in the cool air I could map out a plan.
Feeling very furtive, I crept behind the curtain, tried the door handle—it was open!—and stepped with a sigh into the cool night air, softly shutting the door behind me.
Above were a black, diamond-pricked sky and the darker silhouette of trees and cathedral spire. Behind me were music and laughter; ahead, the quiet whisper of a nighttime garden. A chill breeze cooled my face and made me shiver slightly as I leaned against the terrace railing and pondered.
Why was I here? My eyes didn’t see the stars anymore, they saw the hours of dancing lessons, deportment lessons, dreaming, and longing—all for this night. What else had I lived my life for, ever since I could remember? To be beautiful and sought after, to marry well, and (to be honest) to look down my nose at anyone who had ever looked down their nose at me, especially two young ladies named Gertrude and Lucinda.
Charming. Simply charming.
I turned to face the palace and its bright windows. Well, here I was. The pinnacle of my ambition, the height of my dreams—a ball with the prince. And all I could do was skulk around behind curtains. I caught my breath, anticipating my own anger, disappointment, fury—
It wasn’t there. I stared up at the palace in amazement, then felt a sudden desire to laugh. True, everything had gone wrong. I felt a little chagrined. But I could imagine telling Mrs. Wilkins all about it, laughing with her while trying out Lottie’s latest recipe. I was, I realized with surprise, becoming interested in cooking.
There would be other balls. Now that I had a dress, Stepmama would be sure to allow me to come, no matter what my stepsisters said. Mrs. Wilkins would help me; I wasn’t alone any more. The world felt open in front of me, large and welcoming. I slowly took a deep breath.
A small noise brought me back to the terrace. Someone else had come out the glass door and was closing it carefully. A gentleman. I stood uncertain as he turned, stopped at the sight of me, then spoke.
“My pardon. I didn’t realize—”
The night was so dark, it would have been hard for him to see me clearly, but I edged around closer to the door. “No, that’s quite all right, I probably wasn’t supposed to be here at all. It was just so warm inside, but I’ll be going back in.” I reached the doorway as I spoke.
“There’s no need.” The voice was gruff. “I was only escaping for a few minutes. I’ll soon be back inside.”
“Escaping?” I was intrigued. “So was I, in a way. Though I think I should go home, not back in.”