Chapter 26
ELLA
MAIER MANOR
Ireally want to look despicable. But I’ve discovered Stepmother can be attentive if she wants to.
She made sure Jesse assisted me, much to Bertha’s annoyance.
So when I finish dressing in my finest gown—a pale lavender that, according to Stepmother, made me look slimmer and not so short—Bertha’s wail could be heard from her room down the hall.
“Tuck that strand back,” Stepmother instructs Jesse, pointing to a stray curl that always tends to fly loose. “She must be perfect when Dr. Wissen meets her. And give her some powder on her cheeks. Her skin looks dreadful. Too much time in the sun.”
While Stepmother orders Jesse about, I keep my lips sealed. She needs to believe everything is perfect when we sit down to eat. If she suspects I’m going to ruin her plans, she’ll somehow manage to turn the tables on me.
But tonight, I’m going to win.
“You look lovely, Ella,” Jesse says, patting my cheeks after Stepmother leaves. “I heard you crying last night. I know you miss your mother, but maybe having a husband at your side will ease your pain.”
“I do miss her.” I spin in a circle, watching my dress flounce about, and sigh. “It is such a lovely dress. Too bad I’ll never wear it again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Thank you, Jesse, but I think you should help Bertha before she breaks out in hives from all that crying.”
“I suppose I need to, but Bertha isn’t easy to deal with,” she says and shuffles out of the room.
I linger at my window, staring down at Mother’s tree.
It’s been warmer lately, so it won’t be long before buds show up.
So many memories with Mother are tied to that tree, like nursing a thrush with a broken wing.
Or how she taught me to mix the salve, bind the bandage, and build the bird box.
We cared for it until it flew into the sky, free and alive.
She’d want me to be free, too.
As I head downstairs, I tug out my curls from my perfectly coiffed hair and dart to the unlit fireplace.
I scoop up a handful of soot. I pat a handprint on the side of my lovely dress and smear the rest on my hem.
Hopefully, I look frazzled and wild, a terrible combination for the wife of an esteemed doctor.
As I enter the room, all eyes focus on me.
Can they hear my heart pounding? Stepmother’s placid face pales, and her mouth falls open.
Bertha bursts into giggles, while Marianne gives me an appreciative grin.
But it’s Dr. Wissen’s expression that pleases me most. His face darkens, and those bright eyes narrow in disapproval.
“Good evening,” I say triumphantly, curtsying in the most unsatisfying way before plopping into the chair across from Dr. Wissen. “I hope you’ll excuse me for being late. I was reading and completely lost track of time.”
“Good evening, Ella,” Dr. Wissen replies smoothly. “It’s good to see you again.”
“I’d forgotten you two have already met,” Stepmother says, finally recovering from my despicable appearance.
“This is true,” I jump to answer. “He came by and offered to buy our harvest for below value. He said I should take that offer before we were forced to sell the property to him for below the price. I told him absolutely not.”
“Good,” Father mutters. Hearing his voice startles me. I can’t remember the last time I heard him talk. “These lands aren’t for sale. They’ve belonged to my family for generations.”
“I wouldn’t dare dream of taking your family’s land from you.” Dr. Wissen squirms in his chair.
“Really?” I tilt my head to the side. “Is that what you told the family of your first wife?”
“My first wife?” The three long scars on Dr. Wissen’s face flame up.
“You’ve been married before?” Marianne leans in, obviously loving this uncomfortable gossip.
“I have. A most unfortunate death. God rest her soul.”
“Which of your wives’ deaths was unfortunate?” I tap my fingers to my lips. “You’ve been married more than once if I recall the village rumors.”
“You shouldn’t listen to rumors and gossip, Ella,” Stepmother admonishes. “A young lady must only focus on truth and compassion.”
I want to ask her where her compassion was when she fired our three servants last month.
“I wasn’t born into wealth,” Wissen says.
“I came from an appallingly poor family and would still be poor today if I hadn’t made a wood delivery to a certain doctor.
Seeing how the doctor lived, I asked how to emulate his success.
The doctor showed me how to make my dream come true by handing me an ABC book with instructions.
Here I am, transformed from complete poverty to one of the richest in the land.
Not only that, it’s empowered me to help those in need in our village. ”
“You must feel quite indebted to this doctor,” Marianne says.
He clears his throat. “But of course.”
“Quite the rags to riches story,” I say blandly. “That must have been a very special ABC book to make such a transformation.”
Marianne clears her throat. “Dinner is likely getting cold. Shall we make our way to the dining room?”
Stepmother nods, rising to her feet. “Absolutely.”
Bertha shoots me her you’re-doomed eyebrow waggle and smirk while Marianne winks at me.
“I never thought you could be so entertaining, Ella,” Marianne whispers into my ear. “Do remind me to take you with me to all social functions, for you’re wildly out of control.”
Then she hooks arms through mine, and the two of us stroll into the dining room.
Before I sit down, Stepmother holds me back with a grip of iron. “I don’t know what you are up to,” she says through gritted teeth. “But if you mess up this marriage proposal, you’ll wish you groveled at the doctor’s feet, begging him to marry you.”
My muscles stiffen, but I grind my teeth together. She might be determined to be victorious, but I’m determined to fight the whole way.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say in my most innocent voice.
Unfortunately, Stepmother has arranged for the doctor and me to sit across from each other. I fiddle with my napkin, trying to look anywhere except at him. As Cook and Jesse serve the soup, Wissen studies me as if I’m a block of wood ready to be carved into a creation of his choosing.
“We have Ella to thank for this dinner,” Stepmother says as Cook finishes serving the soup. “She helped prepare it. I’m sure you have a cook of your own, but a good wife must also be prepared to cook and feed her family if the need arises.”
“Absolutely.” Dr. Wissen’s beautiful face flashes a dimpled smile as he dips his spoon into the soup. “I always appreciate a woman who can cook.”
“I made this soup especially for you,” I said, eagerly awaiting his expression as he ate.
The others in the room begin choking, and spoons clatter onto the table. Dr. Wissen’s face screws up like he tasted spicy lemons. I dig my fingernails into my palm to keep myself from laughing out loud at his expression.
“So what do you think, doctor?” I ask naively. “Does it pass your palette test?”
He chokes into his napkin and gulps down his water, unable to answer.
“Ella,” Stepmother says, her tone thick with rage. “What did you do to this soup?”
Oddly, Dr. Wissen holds up his hand. “It’s fine. I don’t expect a wife to cook with expertise for her first meal. It’s an acquired ability, but I’m sure you have other talents. Besides, I have such great wealth. I hardly require my wife to cook. She shall have a full kitchen of chefs.”
“How truly fortunate for your wife,” Stepmother says, releasing a breath.
I stare at him, trying to understand this man. Did he guess my intentions? Or maybe he did change and is now a kind and generous man.
“Unfortunately,” I admit, “I’ve no other talents. I spent most of my childhood sitting around and doing nothing.
“Ella!” Stepmother gasps. “What has gotten into you? How rude! I must apologize for my stepdaughter. She hasn’t been formally trained in etiquette.”
He focuses on brushing non-existent lint from his starched white shirt, but his jaw tightens. My comment rattled him. Good. But when he looks back up at me, his eyes have chilled to a calculating intensity.
No, I didn’t rattle him. I angered him.
“It doesn't matter, Frau von Maier,” the doctor tells my stepmother. “I promised her mother a long time ago I’d take good care of her daughter. These scars, as ugly as they are, are a daily reminder to me of that promise.”
I suck in a shuddering breath. Did my mother give him those scars? Could those marks be from talons? Understanding fills me. He’ll marry me, not for love or even to raise his station in our community. He wants vengeance so he can hurt me like he wanted to hurt her.
“I won’t marry you,” I finally choke out, rising from my seat.
“Sit down right now!” Father bellows from his chair. “You will not disrespect me here.”
Father’s words snap me back into my chair.
My body shakes, I’m so furious. My plans are falling apart because I let the doctor get to me.
I’d been so worried about my stepmother trying to win this battle, I didn’t have the foresight to understand how deeply Dr. Wissen hated my mother.
I need to pull myself together and think this through.
“I brought a gift for you, my dear sweet Ella,” Dr. Wissen says. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you that since we’re betrothed.”
“I do mind, actually,” I counter. “We haven’t received notification from the magistrate that the betrothal is approved.”
“This is a token of my affection for you,” he continues as if I hadn’t spoken a word. He extends a small wooden engraved box. “I hope you’ll accept it.”
“Of course she will accept a gift from her future husband,” my father says, snatching the box from the doctor and holding it out to me.
I clench the sides of the table but rise to my feet and take the box. Inside, I discover a single bird’s feather, sky blue tinged with sunlight yellow. My pulse halts in dread. This feather must have been my mother’s.
Dr. Wissen’s lips curl into a wicked smile as my gaze meets his. He knows, I think in terror. He knows what I am.