Okay, Ella. So it was one, two steps, hop and step...no, that was not it. Wait, was it? I know that both hands go around the neck...or was it one hand on the shoulder and the other was clasped...no it was not clasped because Adam was saying something about an old wives tale in this dance.. ugh, why was I not paying attention when he was teaching me this?
I tighten my grasp around the broom as I try to remember the instructions Adam gave the other day during our so called 'dance lesson'. Seeing as I had no other partners to practice with (Letty would be far too willing but I could not risk the embarrassment of that scenario), a broom was the next-best option. Wooden, silent, and no feet to trip over.
I continue to sweep the kitchen floor as I begin to glide without direction. I close my eyes and softly hum the Irish jig Adam sang.
Dun dun dundundun, mhm, mhm, ,mhhmmmhm
Dun dun dundundun, lalalalalaaa
"Interrupting, am I?"
My eyes fly open.I gasp and clutch my chest when I hear the soft, elegant, snake-like voice.
"Lady Tremaine! I-I did not see nor hear you."
"Obviously not." Her freshly manicured hand glides down the short banister as she descends the three steps that lead into the kitchen. She was in her dressing gown with a single braid hanging over her right shoulder. Despite usually being the first person of the household awake she is typically dressed with her hair done and face made up before she graces everyone with her presence while breaking fast. The very sight of seeing her directly coming straight from her bedchamber without first looking 'respectable' is enough to make my heart leap. Surely, I am in trouble.
A sickly feeling begins to grow in my chest. I try to slow my breathing but to no avail. I stay silent as she assesses me from head to toe.
"Those were some interesting movements that you were making Ella. One might even call it dancing. Although, I know for a fact that it could not be dancing since you have had less lessons on dance than I do fingers on one hand. So what is it that you call that, Ella? Pray tell."
I run my tongue over my dry lips. "Nothing more than mere day-dreaming Madame. I assure you it will not happen again."
"Hm. I suppose I would be day dreaming myself if it was about that attractive man you were with the other day."
My entire body freezes. I cannot move. How? How did this happen? Juliette would never and I mean never disobey me in that sense. I was careful, was I not? Oh dear Lord, I feel as if I am about to vomit.
"Oh please Ella, you needn't look so shocked. I may be at an advanced age but my eyesight is still spectacular. It may have been a quick glance but it was enough to see that he is a man that you are rather well acquainted with. So much so that you have decided to introduce him to Juliette. Really Ella, I am not surprised that you still continue to be loose with men but I thought you would have at a least a speck of dignity to avoid that sight around my precious granddaughter."
"I am not nor have I ever been loose with men," I say. My fear vanishes as anger takes over. "He is merely a childhood friend and nothing more. It was pure coincidence that he met Juliette." My blood is practically boiling by this point. I am ready to spit out more, but I cannot help but hear my father's voice as he recites his favorite bible verse, 'A fool is quick-tempered, but a wise person stays calm when insulted. Only fools show their irritation Ella. Rein in that anger ma chèrie, it never wins. It may not feel so at first but trust me, in due time it will.' It takes nearly all of my willpower to stay silent but nonetheless I manage to do so by hanging onto my late father's words.
YOU ARE READING
The Forgotten Tale of a former lady named Ella
Ficción históricaElla Marchand has been at the mercy of her stepmother for over a decade. True, she can escape anytime she wishes, if it were not for the disgraceful secret keeping her hostage as a servant in her late father's household. At twenty-eight she had long...