Page 87 of Once Upon a Midnight Clear

She was nothing but a housemaid now. Not even a member of the family. Even when they were here before, she wasn’t a member of the family. Why would now, with their return, be any different?

Soon, they would be clamoring for food. She whisked away the tears, pulled herself together, and started cooking.

A few days went by. Ella lived as a ghost in her own home, pretending to be nothing more than the housemaid and the cook, as was their expectations. Livingstone barely acknowledged her presence. Lucinda and Daniella spent countless hours giving her hateful looks and saying snide things when no one else was around.

Ella was bone tired. Tired of the jeers. Tired of the work. Tired of it all. At night, when she was alone in her uncomfortable bed, she’d take out the vial that brought her home and looked for remnants of fairy dust that could take her back. There wasn’t any. Not even a spec. She drifted off to sleep with the throb of loneliness pressing through her. Even in her own home, she felt isolated.

The clock tower bonged it’s morning hour. Weary, she pushed off her thin blanket and placed her bare feet on the cold floor, a shiver going up her spine. She glanced at the wool gown and the cloak she still had from Rovenheim. A longing pounded through her. A longing to return. A longing to see Nicholas again.

She wore one of her older gowns instead of ruining all she had left from her adventure. Ingrid was right. It had been a grand adventure.

After dressing, she slipped on her shoes, tied back her hair, and headed down the stairs to the kitchen to begin breakfast for the family before they started ringing the bell demanding. As she prepared the morning tea, there was a knock on the back door. Odd that someone would knock on the back door instead of the front, she thought, as she pulled it open.

An elderly man stood outside wearing nothing but rags. He had a hunched back, an aged face that was a map of wrinkles, thin lips, and stump teeth.

“Oh, ’ello, m’lady,” he greeted. “Do ye have anything to give an old poor man like meself? I’m starvin’, ye see.”

Hesitation went through her. This had happened once before. Before when the box with the slippers appeared and changed her life. She peered at him, trying to see if she knew him, but she didn’t. Finally, she nodded.

“One moment.”

Back in the kitchen, she wrapped up a loaf of yesterday’s bread, some slices of cheese, and a couple of apples. She returned and handed it to him.

“Oh, thank ye, miss. Ye are a kind one to me.” He gave her a nod and started to turn.

“Why did you stop here?” she asked.

He turned back, giving her a slanted glance over his shoulder. “I heard talk in the market square there lived a kind young woman here. Thought I’d try me luck.” He gave her a grin full of stump, yellowed teeth.

She nodded. Gossip always abounded in the market, especially if Mrs. FitzGerald was involved.

“Where are you headed?” Ella asked.

“Back to the road, m’lady. To make my way south to warmer climes.” He gave her another nod of farewell. “Thank ye, again.”

“Safe travels, good sir,” she called as he headed across the yard.

As she shut the door, she thought no more about the old beggar that called.

The day went along as usual with her polishing the silver, scrubbing the floors and dusting. Snow still dusted the ground, which made the manor drafty and chilly. As she went to the back to bring in more firewood, she heard the unmistakable rumble of hooves and carriage wheels.

Curious, she walked to the side of the house and peered around the corner. She caught a glimpse of a red and gold coach led by eight white chargers. Her heart leapt into her throat as she gasped.

This was different than the one she saw that day in the market when Noella stepped out and they first met. It was larger, more ornate with gold carvings of snowflakes and stars around each door and window. Even the wheels were gold.

Her heart pounded a wicked beat as she hurried into the kitchen, dropped the firewood, and then dashed to the front door. She paused only a moment in the foyer as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Dirt smudged her face. Hair sprouted around her head making it look untidy. And her gown was dirty from all the cooking and cleaning she’d done.

Nothing to do about that, she thought.

As she turned toward the door, Lucinda pounded down the stairs. Daniella was right behind her.

“Maybe the prince called off his wedding!” Lucinda suggested.

“Maybe he’s coming to ask formy hand,” Daniella said.

“Girls, your manners.” Lillian descended the stairs in regal fashion.

None of them noticed Ella standing at the edge of the foyer.

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