CHAPTER FIVE

ELLA TOOK A DEEP breath and then said, “Come in.” She sat on the bed and pushed her jittery hands under her legs as her stepmother walked in the room.

Lady Dashlund looked around the small place, but did not enter all the way. She closed the door and stood by it. Her dark-brown eyes bore into Ella’s for several moments—it felt like hours. Ella did not dare say a word.

Finally, she broke contact and said quietly, “What will become of you? What will you amount to? I am extremely afraid for you, Eleanoria. You are not fit to be seen in public, you cannot control yourself, you are rude, and brash, and assume far too much for one of your station. You clearly do not have the manners of a field cat, and yet—yet, I still must house you within my home. I still must treat you with courtesy because of your father. And how do you repay me? How do you rectify all the bad things you have put me through and all the times you have worn on my patience? By continuing in this manner. No matter how many chores I give you, no matter what punishment it is, you must continually seek ways to ruin those who have cared for you.” She put one hand on her hip, her voice still low and quiet.

“There is one simple thing you need to understand now. Just one. Are you listening, child?” She leaned toward Ella. “You own nothing in this house.” She straightened. “Nothing. It is mine. I married your father and he left all of his possessions to me. You, unfortunately, were one of those possessions I could not part with. However, the things I felt would get too much in your way and make you continue to believe you were better than my daughters, I did take away. You did not need your own horse. You did not need the largest room in the house. You did not need fine dresses and shoes. You did not need paints and silly collections.”

Lady Dashlund walked up and put her hand upon Ella’s head. Ella refused to meet her glare. Instead, she kept her eyes focused on the patchwork bedding under her as her stepmother leaned over and whispered, “You most certainly did not need your grandmother’s pearls.”

Ella gasped, her whole body going rigid.

“And if you are not careful, I will remind myself that you do not even need this bedroom. You can sleep near the fireplace and ashes in the kitchen and be truly a Cinderella instead.” Lady Dashlund suddenly whipped her hand back and slapped Ella’s cheek, the sound echoing around the room like a sharp gong. “If you ever disagree with one of my daughters again, you will lose everything. Do you understand me?” she whispered.

When Ella did not respond, she slapped her again. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Ella whispered, her cheek stinging.

“Good. And remember—things can always, always get worse.” She stepped away and walked toward the door. “Until you learn to behave around those to whom you owe your life, things will continue to be bad. Do not tempt me, Eleanoria, or you will truly know what it is like to lose all. For now, you will not eat until I say so. I want to be sure you are repentant of this little episode. Get your chores done.” The door closed with a quiet, ominous click.

Ella looked at the back of the door for a minute and then brought her hand up to touch her her cheek and feel the warm skin. She knew those pearls had been her mother’s. She knew it. Bringing her knuckles to her mouth, she rubbed it and willed herself not to cry. Bit by bit, she turned over and gradually crawled her way up to her pillow. Clutching the padding in front of her like a shield, she lay on her side and stared blankly at the wall. It was a mere twelve inches from her.

She held her hand out, allowing each of her fingers to touch the small bumps and cracks within the white wall. Following the lines, her fingers played absently in front of her while her mind shifted and sorted through thousands of memories to find her favorites.

The one when she was first given her sweet mare on her ninth birthday. Her father had made her wear that silly blindfold and then teased her the whole way out the door and across the graveled walk to the stables. She had no idea where she was going—she only knew it was certainly too far to be traveling blindly. But when he removed the blindfold to reveal the most beautiful horse she had ever seen—oh, the joy that had coursed through her then! The surprise—the giddiness.

Ella had dashed to the horse and wrapped her arms as far around the wide tummy as she could get them. It was only a matter of minutes before she had the perfect name. “Sunshine.” She had spoken so clearly, sure of herself. “She looks just like sunshine with her golden coat, and she is quite the happiest gift I have ever been given! She will bring me sunshine every day of my life.”

“So, do you like her then?” her father had asked, his hands in his coat pockets, looking mighty proud of himself. “Am I your favorite too?”

She had giggled then and run over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I love you, Father. There is not a better father in all the world. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Not one for too much affection, he had patted her back and then pulled her up to plop her on the horse, bareback and all. Many of the stable boys and Father’s friends had thought a girl just nine was too young to be given such a great big horse, but her father smiled and said, “You do not know my Ella if you think that. If there was ever a girl who could ride a big horse, it is her!”

Ella had laid her tummy right down upon that horse and wrapped her arms around the animal’s neck, rubbing her face into Sunshine’s golden mane. “I love you,” she had whispered to the beautiful mare right then and there. “I love you so much! I have waited my whole life for my very own horse and now I have you. We will be the best of friends, I know it.”

She then spread her skirts around her knees to be more ladylike, gathered up some of that glorious mane, and began to tug and walk Sunshine around the graveled yard. Wherever she wanted to go, the horse followed. It was like they were sisters or twins—so in tune was Ella to her and Sunshine to Ella, it did not matter if Ella suddenly wanted to halt and pick an apple in the orchard, the horse would stop and allow her to stand precariously upon her back or saddle and reach up on tiptoe to collect one of the apples from the tree. Sunshine would not move one inch until Ella was seated again and tugged on her to go again.

And the way they could fly! Oh, how Ella loved to fly with Sunshine! Darting and racing through the countryside, hair blowing behind them. So free, so fast, so fun.

Ella smiled and blinked away the sudden tears that had collected in the corners of her eyes. Her fingers stilled upon the wall. One by one she removed them, staring blankly at the cracks again. John was right. She missed Sunshine—there were times she could have sworn she needed Sunshine to breathe, especially right after her father had married again. Her father had not seen the darkness that had come into the house when Lady Dashlund moved in, but she did. She felt the loathing and silliness and snide remarks almost from the beginning. But her father was so happy and wanted Ella to be happy so very much that she never had the heart to tell him she was not. Instead, she would climb up on her Sunshine and escape for a while.

Getting out into nature, the wind, the smells, life brimming everywhere—out there, the world was perfect. Out there, everything became good again. Once she had had a good, strong ride, it was easy to come back inside and be friendly and happy and the exact way her father would have had her be. She only needed to breathe first.

Rolling onto her back, Ella stared up at the open wooden rafters of the ceiling. She frowned, her face scrunching as if she were in pain. Closing her eyes, she wished for a moment that her life was different—just for a few minutes at least. She wished the world back the way it was when she was nine, when everything was free and perfect. Now it seemed it would never be that way again.