Chapter Nine
1027 Words
Ella’s hands flew up to her face.
Her step-mother laughed. “You forgot about your veil, Cinder.” She stalked toward Ella, who cringed back. “Now, tell me exactly what has made you blush so.”
“I—nothing, Mama. I swear it,” Ella stuttered.
“Liar!” Celina hissed.
“Mrs. Adler, Miss Adler, what on earth is going on in my hallway?” The man staring at them from the doorway was an ancient undead, his skin dry and flaky.
Celina immediately plastered a smile on her face. “Nothing, Mr. Fitzsimmons, I assure you. It is merely a misunderstanding between Cin—Ella and myself.”
“Good, then please join me, and have a seat.” He gestured them inside, and closed the door behind him.
“As you can see, Ella is quite well,” Celina tittered. “Well, except for her ankle, the clumsy child.”
“Are you all right, Ella?” Mr. Fitzsimmons took his seat behind a desk that appeared to be as old as he was.
“I slipped on our front steps, but,” she shrugged. “I will heal.”
“There, you see? Everything is as it was last month,” Celina seated herself with a flourish. “Since that has been established…when will all the accounts be released to me?”
The solicitor shuffled over to the desk, and seated himself behind it. “It feels good to get off my feet,” he said conversationally. “The accounts will not be released in full to you, but to Miss Adler. After all, it was her father’s wishes that on her eighteenth birthday his fortune would become hers.”
A frown marred Celina’s perfectly gaunt looks. “I do not recall Harald telling me any such thing.”
“There is no need to worry, Mrs. Adler. Your stipend will remain in place as long as the conditions of the original parameters are met.” He leaned back in his chair, pondering what to say next as he stared at Ella’s step-mother. “I need to speak with Miss Adler in private.” Mr. Fitzsimmons’ voice left no room for argument, but that fact did not deter Celina.
“She is my responsibility, Mr. Fitzsimmons, and you have never needed to speak with her privately before. This causes me great concern.” A small frown marred Celina’s forehead.
“My client, Mr. Adler, left certain documents in my possession that he wished for his daughter to read. His instructions do not allow for the presence of others.” He leaned so far back in his chair Ella was sure he would tilt right over at any moment.
“I do not care for your tone, Mr. Fitzsimmons, but it appears I have no choice.” Celina turned to Ella. “I will wait for you in the carriage. There is no sense in remaining here when I am not welcome.” She flounced away, leaving Ella and Mr. Fitzsimmons staring first at the empty doorway, then at each other.
“Well, that was easier than I expected,” Mr. Fitzsimmons finally said. “Shall we continue?” Without waiting for Ella’s reply, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “As I already stated, upon your birthday you will receive, and be responsible for, your father’s fortune. Has your step-mother prepared you for that eventuality?”
Ella pushed the veil away from her face and shook her head. “No, she never told me that might be the case.”
“You use the word might, Miss Adler. That is incorrect. There is no might. It will be released to you. By my recollection, your birthday is next month.” He pushed the papers across the desk. “I have kept detailed accounts of your…errr…accounts, if you wish to look them over for any discrepancies.”
Ella raised her veil. “I don’t know what discrepancies I would be searching for, Mr. Fitzsimmons. My father trusted you all these years. I see no need to question your judgement now.”
“Please, Miss Adler, read the papers before you decide. I would not want you to think I was derelict in my duties.”
“Very well,” Ella agreed. She bent her head to the papers in front of her. It did not take long to realize her father had never completely trusted Celina.
‘My beloved Ella,’ the letter began, ‘It has been six months since my decision to wed again, and I can’t tell you I haven’t made a mistake. Your step-mother is not the woman she claims to be, but the documents I’m leaving in Mr. Fitzsimmons’ care will ensure your continued safety. I’m sorry I will not be there to help you navigate life. I do not know why you, your mother, and I are not undead as the rest of the world is. All I can do is my poor best to protect you from what this world offers people like us. The paperwork I have given Mr. Fitzsimmons are legal and binding documents which will release my fortune to you upon your eighteenth birthday. Your step-mother will never be able to access the accounts without your verbal and written permissions. She will, however, retain a modest stipend for herself and her daughters, as well as retain rooms in our home. I love you, Ella. Never forget that.’
Tears overflowed and spilled down Ella’s cheeks. She reached up, wiping them away. “Mr. Fitzsimmons, did you read the letter from my father?”
The solicitor shook his head. “No. The only documents I have read pertained to the instructions he left for me. Why?”
She frowned and lowered her voice. “I think my father was scared of my step-mother. Do you think it is possible she somehow caused his death?”
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