Ashes & Roses, by Carma Lynn Park 2/5
When we got to market, Stepmother spotted the mayor’s wife, and she and Priscilla sailed off to visit with her, but Lavvy took my arm. “I believe we need bread.”
I nodded, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “Shall we make that our first stop?”
We threaded our way through the square, and I felt less shy having Lavvy with me. I almost enjoyed the hum of bargaining, the sharp-scented apples, the zinnias and nasturtiums in buckets of water. No more roses. It seemed like mine were the last ones blooming.
Jack waited on us himself. “Good morning. What will you have today?”
I ducked my head and whispered, “A loaf of rye, please. And half a dozen white rolls.”
As he put them in the basket, Lavvy chatted with him. I didn’t know how she and Priscilla could be so easy with boys. My mind always went blank, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, except when it was saying things of its own accord.
Hoofbeats sounded, and a horse with a rider in the king’s livery pulled up in the middle of the square. Lavvy and I pushed into the bake shop’s doorway to look. The rider announced in a loud, clear voice, “The prince has returned from his travels. The king is giving a ball. Everyone is invited for four weeks from tomorrow.”
The square buzzed with curiosity and excitement. Lavvy clapped her hands. “A ball! Dancing!”
Gran Nanther at the flower stall said, “The prince has been gone long enough in those far-off places. It’s time he was married and settled down.”
I said, “Oh no, if I were a prince, I’d have a good time as long as I could.”
Gran Nanther pursed her skinny lips. “In my day, girls were taught respect for their elders.”
I blushed and hung my head and told myself to stop blurting out whatever I was thinking.
One of the Holsford girls sighed, “I’ve heard he’s real nice-looking.”
Someone else said, “I heard he was going to make a match over there, but it didn’t work out.”
Stepmother swept up and bustled us over to the fabric shop. She had a calculating look on her face as she said, “Hurry up. This is Priscilla’s chance. She’s much the most beautiful girl for miles around. She must have a new gown.”
Stepmother told Old Ben, “To begin we’d like to see white silk for the skirt. Perhaps with a lavender overdress.” He nodded and went into the back room, where he kept the richer fabrics.
As Stepmother settled into a chair, she added, “Dear me, I have to help Priscilla make the right impression. I must have an outfit as well.”
Lavvy began inspecting the lace trims in the case. Stepmother looked her up and down. “Perhaps Priscilla’s old green dress. But no. It would look so cheese-paring. Lavvy must have a new gown too.”
Old Ben was soon running back and forth from the stockroom, arms full of fabrics.
Priscilla asked in her slow, rich voice, “What do you think, Ella?”
I picked up a bolt of creamy satin and let the fabric slither over my arm. “This. With the gold netting.”
They settled on the most costly fabrics and trims for them all. Stepmother told Old Ben to do the cutting and said that I would do the sewing. “Ella is so clever with the needle.”
I glowed at her praise, and on the way out, I screwed up my courage and asked, “Stepmother, could I – I would like so very much – could I go to the ball?”
She looked down at me. “Certainly, child. You may have Priscilla’s old green dress.”
I clasped my hands. “Thank you, Stepmother.”
The next few weeks blurred past. I was busy from morning until late at night, doing my regular chores and sewing the new dresses. The Thursday before the ball, Lavvy did the marketing, and I was able to cut down Priscilla’s dress for myself. It had once been quite pretty, but had faded around the neckline and looked shabby, with stains near the bottom of the skirt. New lace at the neck and a flounce at the hem would have made it passable, but there was never enough time to do the sewing.
On the day of the ball we could hardly eat for excitement. I drew water and heated it for bathing. Then it seemed that everyone needed help at once, and I ran from room to room hooking buttons, clasping necklaces, and putting up hair until I felt quite distracted. At last I was able to run upstairs and pull on the dress. Maybe its shabbiness wouldn’t be so noticeable after all.
Stepmother called from downstairs, “Ella! The horses are waiting!” She had arranged a ride with the Holsfords, who had their own carriage.
“Coming!” I wound my braids around my head and pinned them in place and hurried sideways down the narrow stairs. Holding up the skirt, I noticed how rough and red my hands looked. I had intended to treat them with balm but forgot. Stepmother frowned. “I thought you were going to do something about that dress. You look like a peasant girl.”
“Well, I was going to, but – ”
Her tongue clucked. “You can’t go to the ball looking like that. You’d disgrace us all.” She stepped out with a rustle of silk, calling, “Come, girls, we mustn’t be late. Not you, Ella.”
She went out, followed by Priscilla at her usual languid pace. Lavvy turned around in the doorway, lips parted in dismay. Stepmother’s voice snapped from outside, “Lavinia!” With a last look at me, she turned and left.
The tears couldn’t be held back, and I ran to the rose garden to fling myself to my knees and sob against the log.
