Ella- by May
It was on a
crisp and cool fall day that my mother remarried. Our new father
was rather wealthy and had a daughter named Ella. From the start I mistrusted
her, and my sister did, too. She was a pretty thing with straight golden hair
and clear amber eyes that had golden flecks, but I could almost sense the ill
will radiating from her pores. After we were introduced, she instantly started
chattering at us.
“Oh
I’m so happy we’ll be sisters,” she said. “I’ve
always wanted a sister to
talk to and share thoughts with.”
I did not want
to make any assumptions about her and hoped my first impressions
were awry. Under the warm autumn sun and sharp blue sky, I wished to believe
that everyone was nice, and besides, this was a wedding. She might merely be
excited. So I thought I ought to be civil, but she might as well know her place
now. There was no point in pretending we were equals since I was, after all, a
year older than her.
“I, also,
am glad we will be sisters. Though I have never lacked
companionship, another younger sister will be pleasant.”
It was then that I saw she was a spiteful, nasty person. I was trying to be
nice to the girl, but instead of smiling at me as any decent person would, she
turned her back, looking affronted. I immediately decided to pay no more
thought to the brat until I had to, so I turned to my sister, who gave me a half
grimace of consolation, and we went to greet our new father.
*
* *
*
In the early
spring of next year, Ella’s father passed on. I was sincerely
sorry, for he had been a kind man. It was not his fault Ella was spoiled.
Sometimes there was nothing you could do for people.
I wept for
him, but it seemed Ella wept harder. She seemed struck by grief,
but I noticed that when she thought no one was looking, she gave herself smug
smiles. I soon realized that the brat was trying to attract more attention to
herself by pretending to be deeply hurt. I was incensed. How dare she pretend
to weep for her father after all the man had done for her! Obviously Ella had
no human feelings to speak of. She was a shell filled with conceit and
arrogance. I told my mother as soon as possible all that I had observed, and
she agreed that Ella was acting above herself. She called a family meeting
after Ella had departed for bed.
“It has
come to this,” said Mother. “Ella is living on our charity.
Her
father left all his money to us. She is acting above her station, and it is
time she was put in her place.”
“I agree,
Mother,” said my younger sister Linda. “Ella is a
spoiled brat, who
tries to attract attention to herself through make-believe grief. It is a
horrible thing to pretend to weep for her father and gain attention from it!”
So Linda had noticed it, too. A righteous anger filled me. It started at my
feet and just rose and rose. My feelings had been kept at bay by my grief for
my step-father, but now they came.
“It
can’t go on like this!” I burst out. “Ella must be
put in her place. She
has been spoiled all her life, and that is going to stop right now. Starting
tomorrow morning she will be put in a less grand room. She will be given chores
befitting to her place in this family. We have been too generous with her!”
My
sister’s eyes sparkled at this new statement. “You are right, Cindy,”
she
cried. “Ella must be humbled. When she is sufficiently humbled and has begun
to act as she should, maybe then we could restore her former place in this
family.”
Linda was much
more forgiving than I was. Within me there was no thought of
ever restoring Ella to her former station; she had gone too far, and as far as
I
was concerned, she could stay a servant forever. She deserved it. Anger and
bitterness warmed me to the point that I was almost uncomfortably hot in a room
where the fire was low and spring cool was seeping in through a slightly open
window. I pushed my sleeves up slightly.
“Very
well then,” said Mother, nodding in approval. “Tomorrow
I will think of
suitable chores for Ella.” She smiled suddenly. “I am glad I have
such good
daughters. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
The next day
Ella moved into a smaller room. She said nothing, but gave us
hurt looks, which we obviously ignored. Also, Mother assigned her chores, such
as scrubbing floors, and other such menial work. She said no word, but I could
see she was still angry at the change. When I spoke to Mother about it, all
she said was,
“
It’ll pass, darling. Ella will see the error of her ways and come
to
understand that we are being charitable to her. Then she will go about her work
happily. When that happens, we may begin to think about forgiveness.”
Mother’s words comforted me greatly, for I had begun to think that Ella’s
was a
hopeless cause, but now I would not give up. My anger at Ella was beginning to
drain away, and I felt slightly sorry for the poor lass. She had been spoiled
all her life; it would be hard for her to turn back to the right path after
wandering astray.
Five years
passed. We were now calling Ella Cinderella, because of all the
cinders she sat in. She took her work in better cheer now, and our family was
beginning to hope that she was finally starting to understand what we were
doing for her. Her eyes still flashed angrily at the name of Cinderella,
though. Only when they became peaceful and happy forever, would Cinderella be
an unselfish, unspoiled person who could participate in our family.
*
* *
*
On the
day of my 18th birthday, when Ella was 17, my family received news that
the prince would hold a glorious ball in a weeks time. It was rumored in the
city that the prince would choose his bride there.
Balls
are immense fun. They generally last all night, at least up to, and
sometimes past, dawn. Supper is provided by the host in a banquet style, after
which the musicians start playing and the real fun begins. Lots of important
people would be there, though naturally, Linda and I were especially excited by
the news that the prince would be choosing his bride. We began to get ready at
once, and the rest of that week was all a flurry of getting dresses made up.
Cinderella looked wistfully at the material and wouldn’t stop pestering
me about
letting her go.
“Could I borrow your red gown Cindy, just this once?” she pleaded
for at least
the second time.
“If you
can finish your chores and manage to take a bath before it starts,
yes,” I said, grinding my teeth in frustration and looking with disgust
at her
dirty clothes and hair. If she put on my gown in the state she was in, the gown
would never be clean again.
Cinderella
winced at the noise from my molars, pursed her lips slightly in
disapprobation and opened her mouth to say something. She looked at my<
expression of well-bred murder and thought better of it. She left the room
after a short curtsy and began to scrub the floors in a hurry, then hastened on
to her other tasks. When she was done, there was a half hour till we left, but
in her haste, she had not done the job properly and grease spots remained on the
floor. I pointed this out, not about to be lenient after her behavior in the
afternoon, and her face fell. She got the bucket and brush and began scrubbing
again.
Cinderella was
not done when we departed, so we left her in the house. We
reached the palace a little early, and all the guests were just sitting down
when a very beautiful girl around 17 entered the dining hall behind a tall
footman. The prince stood up hurriedly and rushed to greet her, showing her to
a seat near the dais where the royal family was sitting. She seated herself,
smiled pleasantly to her neighbor, and the quiet that had settled over the hall
when she came in disappeared in a burst of merry talking and laughter. I
watched her curiously. There was something about her manner and appearance that
seemed uncannily familiar. It was little things, like the way she ate, the way
she sat, how her hair fell over her face and she didn’t move to brush it
back, and when she had crossed the hall, the way she moved, that just made me feel
like I had known her for a long time. But I couldn’t place her. In all my
years at the city I was sure that I had met all the prominent and influential
people who lived there, yet I couldn’t remember seeing the girl among them.
Who
was she?
I tore my eyes
away from her, aware that I had already stared too long and
shouldn’t neglect my table partners. My inattention already bordered on
the
rude, and I couldn’t risk offending anyone here, who were potential husbands,
if
I didn’t manage to catch the prince. As my gaze left her face, it swung
over
the dais where the monarchs sat and fell on the prince. He was staring at the
girl with undisguised admiration. Jealousy choked me. Like as not the prince
would not even notice I was a very talented dancer, had beautiful manners, and
wasn’t even that bad looking. It just wasn’t fair. Why does beauty
have to
govern men’s thoughts? I nearly couldn’t speak to answer when my neighbor
asked
me my name. However, I pulled myself together and smiled as pleasantly as I
could before answering.
“I am
called Cindy. I live on the north side of the city in the Harris
District.”
It turned out
I was speaking to a certain son of the Lord of Cremby. His name
was James, and he was a perfectly charming person. I found myself liking him
almost instantly. He knew many influential people and was almost a personal
friend of the prince. We had a lovely conversation during the course of the
dinner and I completely forgot about the beautiful girl and the prince. The
banquet ended happily.
After we had
eaten, the company proceeded into a large room with a a high
ceiling and a floor polished to an almost reflective hue. A lively dance tune
began, the music floating lightly through the hall, and the prince led the line
of dancers out onto the floor, swinging the lovely girl around in a faultlessly
controlled manner. The pleasure from supper faded slightly as I watched them
dance together. The girl really did dance beautifully. It wasn’t fair for
someone to have so much talent and still be pretty. Some people have all the
luck.
I wasn’t
aware that I was grimacing until James asked me if I was all right
and
if I needed a glass of water. I controlled myself with an effort.
“ Of course, I’m fine. Someone just knocked into me is all,”
I answered, and
reflected that I was really going to have to start staring more circumspectly.
This lack of control was disgusting. Mother had taught me better.
He looked at me for a moment, then asked if I would like to dance. I acceded
gratefully and he led me out onto the dance floor, where I danced with him for
two sets before he passed me off to someone else.
Then something
strange happened. Just as the tall clock in the corner of the
room began to strike midnight, there was a commotion on the other side of the
hall. The girl, dancing with the prince of course, had pulled away and was
fleeing from the room, seeming to fly rather than run. The prince pursued her
but did not catch her. He came back in a little bit, just as the clock finished
striking the hour, looking despondent and holding something shiny in his hand.
The dancing continued, but there was much muttering about what had happened, and
the prince did not dance.
The ball broke
up early, many not seeing a reason to stay with the prince so
preoccupied. Just before we left, I saw the prince looking at a glass slipper.
I was confused until I remembered the shiny object the prince had been holding
when he came back in and that the lovely girl’s clogs had glittered. They
must
have been glass, though how on earth anyone dances in glass shoes with out
getting their feet cut to pieces is beyond me. She must have lost one when she
fled.
When we
arrived home, we found that Cinderella had stayed up for us. She had
eaten breakfast and served us ours. She awaited news eagerly, and because she
had been acting so well lately, Linda and I told her everything. She had just
opened her mouth to reply when a footman came in.
“His Highness, the prince, and party await the entire family in the entry
hall.”
“Do you
know what for?” I demanded.
“It is
not my place to demand information of the prince, but I gather his
business deals with the events of the ball held this past night, miss,”
he
answered.
“You can
stay in here Cinderella,” Linda said. “You weren’t
there. His
Highness won’t want to see you.”
So Linda,
Mother and I walked to the hall curiously. When we had all entered,
one of the members of the prince’s party dressed in a herald’s uniform
held up
the glass slipper I had noticed the night before.
“
Whomever this fits the prince will marry,” he announced.
I looked at the shoe. It was tiny. Although I had always prided myself on my
small feet, there was no way I could fit into it. I had waited so long for a
chance like this and I couldn't take it because the girl who had worn it had
feet like a pin. How did she walk? I seated myself anyway, because you don’t
just ignore royal commands, however politely they are phrased, and tried on the
slipper. It didn’t fit. Of course.
Linda could
not fit the slipper either. The prince looked close to despair.
“Is
there no other girl in this household?” the herald asked. “Every
girl has
the right to try it.”
“There
is only Cinderella, but she did not go to the ball,” Linda
said.
“
Nevertheless,” said the herald, “she shall try it too.”
“
Cinderella,”
called Mother, “please come here."
Cinderella
came looking confused. I saw the herald taking in her shabby
clothes, but he invited her to sit and try on the slipper. The prince still
said nothing and just stood there, but I could see his despair. Cinderella
extended her foot and a footman knelt to put on the shoe as if she were an equal
to the rest of us, and not a servant. To the amazement of everyone in the room,
it slid on like it had been made for her. I had never noticed how small her
feet were before.
A great
happiness sprang into the prince’s eyes and he spoke for the first
time.
“You are
the girl!” he cried. “I recognize you now. But why
are you dressed
like that?”
“Do not
blame them,” and she waved at us offhandedly. I privately
seethed at
her suddenly high-handed manner, just like the Ella of old. “It is not their
fault that they have done this. My name is Ella, by the way.”
“Then
Ella,” said the prince, “I ask you to marry me.”
“And I
accept,” said Ella.
I would have
expected to be angered by this engagement, seeing as it heralded
a
betrayal and deception by my own sister, but somehow I wasn’t. Her offhanded,
rather condescending statement irritated me more than her sudden engagement did.
I found myself wondering where James was and if I might see him tomorrow.
Shocked at myself, I dragged my thought back to the present situation, trying
to
conjure up the correct feelings of indignation and anger. It wasn’t working.
With a sigh, I decided that it was too much work to be angry with two such
obviously ecstatic people and allowed my thought to drift towards James again
while Ella and the prince kissed.
*
* *
*
Ella’s
wedding was a grand state affair, contrasting mine, two weeks later
which barely had forty people. I didn’t mind. Personally, I think I had
the
better match. She has changed since the morning after the ball, and I think we
are becoming sisters at last because she talks to me about him. Apparently he
grinds his teeth in his sleep.
