Chapter 11
ELLA
MAIER MANOR
Idid it. The thought buzzes in my chest as I sink onto the parlor settee, a satisfied smile tugging at my lips. Sure, I made plenty of mistakes and the work was exhausting, but this afternoon I completed the servants’ payments and sold the grain.
It’s hard to believe that only six months ago, I’d been that girl overwhelmed by my father’s abandonment and still mourning the loss of my mother.
When Father returns, he’ll be pleased with the progress I’ve made.
I’m sure of it. Now that I’ve proven I can run this estate, he’ll see I’m not a burden to marry off like Herman keeps reminding me of.
I pull out Jacob’s sketch and the note he left behind, the paper soft and worn from all the times I unfolded it.
My fingers drift over the lines, like touching them might bring him closer.
He’s been the only solid and safe part of my life.
The memory of him rescuing me, arms tight around me, the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek, clings to me even though I tell myself we don’t have a future.
He’s the king’s hunter, traveling from village to village, while I’m the daughter of a noble, raised to marry someone of equal station, not a man who lives by the sword and disappears with the dawn.
“Ella.” Cook bustles into the parlor, round face flushed and graying hair tied neatly into a bun.
Quickly, I slip the note and sketch into my pocket.
“Came to thank you for all you’ve done. The reward money will go a long way for my family.
You know, with my husband unable to work anymore, I’ve been worried sick.
And now? Well, we’re going to be just fine, that’s what. ”
“You’re like family.” I rise and pull her into a hug. She smells like fresh-baked bread and honey. “Family sticks together, yes?”
“Yes, yes, but where’s your fire? A lady like yourself can’t be sitting in this parlor soaking up the dreadful cold. I just won’t have it. The servants really must be spoken to.”
“It's fine. Seriously. You, of all people, know how understaffed we are. Besides, most of them have been doing extra duties between working in the fields and their normal responsibilities. I’ll take care of it myself.”
“That’s ridiculous. I insist on fetching someone this very instant.”
She hurries off despite my objections. Sighing, I stare at the hearth and pile of wood. I’ve seen it done before, but I’ve never actually made a fire. Still, how hard could it be?
I roll up my sleeves, tucking in the white lace so I can get a better range of motion, and pick up a fine-sized log, setting it into the fireplace.
If only I could rip my corset off, that would help.
I suck in a deep breath and gather up a handful of kindling and light it. The flame sputters out within seconds.
“Must you be so uncooperative?” I ask my unsuccessful fire.
Outside, a horse’s whinny and the rumble of a carriage draw my attention to the front window. Who’s coming here this late? Not that we ever have callers.
Unless…it’s Father. My heart squeezes. It makes perfect sense. He’s returning in time for Christmas. It will be our first Christmas without Mother, but we’ll spend it together, sharing in our sorrow but remembering the good times.
I rush to the window as a sleek black carriage parks in front of the house. A footman hops down and opens the door with a flourish. Three fine ladies step out, one after the other. My heart sinks in disappointment. Who are these people and why are they here?
But then another person climbs out. Father. He tips his tall hat back, surveying the house and grounds.
Joy surges through me. He came home! I face the front door, heart racing.
Quickly, I try to make myself presentable.
I push a stray curl out of my face, but frown at my ruined dress.
Soot streaks across the front of the blue-flowered pattern, and somehow, I’ve managed to get ashes on my chest. I try to wipe them off, but it only makes it worse, creating black streaks.
But who cares? Father is home! Thankfully, the footman comes to the door, opening it to allow the travelers in. A gust of late fall wind blusters into the room.
My eyes are blind to the others. All I can focus on is Father as he enters. I rush across the room, not caring that tears are spilling down my cheeks.
“You’re home!” I cry, throwing my arms around him. “I was so worried about you.”
The welcome arms I’d been expecting push me away. Confused, I stare up into his face. Sure, he was angry when he left, but that was because of Mother’s sudden sickness and death. And I understood his need to get away from a place that always reminded him of her.
Yet as I look at him, confusion swirls through me.
I stumble backward. My father is so changed, I hardly recognize him.
His hair has whitened, and the full beard is gone, leaving his face cleanly shaven.
Those once cheerful cornflower eyes are now cloudy blue.
Lines crisscross his face like the world has stretched him out too thin.
As if he lost everything.
“This house of yours, Karl dearest, is rather disappointing,” a voice cuts through the ringing in my ears.
It’s a distinct city accent, sharp with a haughty tone.
Bristles rub against my skin. “Do tell me this frigid shamble is not the grand home you spoke of. Also, when does the help run about like savages and embrace you?”
“Hilda.” Father steps away from me and turns to the woman speaking. “Please meet my daughter, Ella. Ella, I’m pleased to introduce you to your new mother, Frau Hilda von Maier.”
I drag my gaze from Father to take in the woman who apparently is now my stepmother.
She’s tall and thin as a willow with a sharp chin that juts out like a bird’s perch.
Her mahogany-colored hair is coiffured into the latest fashion, and her gown is utterly stunning for someone to travel in.
A midnight blue with silver ribbons that weave around the skirt, a tight bodice interlaced with silver threads, and a collar that rises to her neck like a choker.
Every detail of her appearance is sharp and deliberate.
“Well, you are far inferior to what I expected.” Her thin eyebrows tilt as she gives me a good look over and obviously finds me lacking.
Her eyes travel specifically to the places on my dress where the soot still clings.
“I see she needs some good upbringing. It appears as if she’s been playing in the fireplace. ”
“I knew you’d be the perfect woman to teach Ella the fineries of life,” Father says with a firm nod. “She will grow to be as elegant as your two daughters.”
“And your daughters now, too,” Frau von Maier reminds him, beaming brightly at the two young women standing off to the side. “Ella, meet Marianne and Bertha. I hope you’ll take them in as your very own sisters.”
I clamp my hands behind my back, desperately trying to process everything. This must be a nightmare because what I’m seeing and hearing is utter madness.
“Good to meet you,” Marianne says with a kind smile as if she understands what I’m going through.
She’s wearing a shimmering chestnut-colored gown with lace framing her chest and the sleeves at her elbows.
Her dark, glossy brown hair is neatly tucked into a frilly bonnet with blue ribbons tied in a perfect bow beneath her chin.
“I’m sure we’ll be the best of sisters.”
Her true sister is the exact opposite. Where Marianne was dark, Bertha was light with pale blonde hair and rose-tinted cheeks. Her soft pink gown is all frills and an abundance of lace, like a flower in full bloom.
“What’s wrong with your face?” Bertha’s mouth puckers into a frown as she points to my cheek. “Is that a blackened scar? Or are you just dirty?”
“It isn’t polite to point out others’ faults,” Frau von Maier reminds her loftily. “You must model for Ella how to act and dress. Remember, always take the higher ground.”
“It must be soot from the fire,” I mumble, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I wipe my cheek. “I was lighting a fire to warm the sitting room before you came.”
“You? Lighting a fire?” Frau von Maier titters. “Whatever for? That’s for the help. Oh, mercies. Karl, please tell me you have servants, and I haven’t brought my daughters into desolation.”
Father glowers at me as if I just ruined his entire existence. I slink into the shadows. The trembling in my knees won’t let up. The father I once knew died the same day as my mother.
I’m utterly alone in the world.