Chapter Three
871 Words
“My step-mother decided to send me in her stead,” Ella replied, as though it was not a normal occurrence. “The prince’s ball has her quite preoccupied.”
The older woman brayed out her laughter, a single tooth clattering to the floor. “I am sure it does!” She lowered her voice and leaned toward Ella. “Did you know no-one has actually seen the prince? It is rumored that he is disfigured, unnatural, alive.” She spat out the last word. “Although I do not know how that last is possible. The king and queen are most definitely not, and no-one could alter their appearance so successfully.” Bending over, she picked the tooth up and jammed it back into her lifeless gums. “My dear, why are your hands so gray?”
“I stumbled into a small fire pit on my way here,” Ella improvised. “Do you have somewhere I can wash up? I cannot choose any of your lovely fabrics if I am filthy.”
“No, that is true. You cannot. My washroom is just past those curtains. Do you know if your sisters wish for the usual colors?” She answered her own question. “No, of course not. They need fabrics to impress a prince. I am sure the rumors are just rumors. You know how people will talk when there is nothing better to do.”
Ella nodded, walking swiftly past her and through the curtains. The washroom was small; a closet, really, with a pitcher and a large porcelain bowl on a tall, wooden end table. She poured the water into the bowl and washed her hands, drying them on the small towel hanging next to the table. Pulling the gloves out of her pocket, Ella tugged them over her still damp skin, and checked her make-up in the dingy mirror.
“I have some lovely fabrics laid out,” the shopkeeper said upon Ella’s return. “Should I wrap them up and have them delivered?”
Ella glanced at her list. “Esmae desired the peacock blue silk and Evangline said you had forest green linen.”
“I do indeed have both those fabrics, as well as matching ribbons. I will include appropriate lengths of them as well as the others I have chosen. I am sure your step-sisters will be quite pleased.”
Considering her step-sisters liked nothing better than to dress up, Ella was quite sure the older woman was right in her assessment. “Place them on my step-mother’s tab, if you please.” It would never dawn on Celina to give Ella the coins necessary to pay for her purchases.
“Of course, of course,” the other woman chattered. “I would not dream of asking for coin before the ball. Your step-mother has been an important client for many years. I know she will see her debts paid.”
Ella narrowed her eyes. The word debts implied long-standing accounts that were unpaid, and that made no sense. Her father’s disappearance had left Celina a wealthy woman. She should have more than enough coin to pay her debts in a timely manner. “I will tender your regards to my step-mother.”
“I assume the wigs shop is next on your list,” the shopkeeper asked.
Ella nodded. “Yes. Esmae has asked for hair combs.” She paused. “Do you know if—will my step-mother’s credit be accepted there?”
She laughed. “Your step-mother’s credit is valid everywhere, Cinder. Everyone knows your story.”
“My…story?” Ella frowned, wondering what lies Celina concocted upon her husband’s abandonment.
“Oh, there were rumors, of course, but rumors always exist.” The older woman smiled past decaying lips. “But I do not need to remind you of such painful matters. It is ancient history, after all.”
“Yes,” Ella murmured. “Ancient history indeed. Thank you for your assistance.”
“You are most welcome, Cinder. I almost wish I could be at the ball and see the prince for myself. But your sisters, oh my! I cannot wait to say my shop was the one to clothe the prince’s bride!”
“It would be unbelievable, would it not?” Ella eased towards the door. “I am sorry, but I must take my leave. I must visit three more shops before lunch.”
“Yes, yes, I understand. It would not be right to keep your darling step-mother waiting.” The shopkeeper practically ushered her outside, into the nearly empty town square. “Enjoy the sunshine. The older you become, the less you will be able to tolerate it.”
That information explained why her step-mother rarely left the house. Ella was unsure how old Celina was, but her vanity would force her to stay indoors, where light no longer penetrated. She had taken only a few steps toward the next shop when a ‘Pssst’ caught at her attention.
“Ella! Ella of Cinders, over here!” The voice hissed again.
- Writer
