Disclaimer: I read Ella Enchanted so many times that I could recite it word for word. I still can do some chapters. The spine of my book's ripped in half twice and when my sister lost one of the sections of text I immediately ran out and purchased a new copy. Believe me when I say I wish no ill on the head of Gail Carson Levine and much as I would adore to claim this wonderful story as my own, I would never dream of harming its author in any way. Oh, and if there's a way to make money off of these, can somebody clue me in? I have lawyers to go through the legal hassle if necessary.
Author's Note: Okay, this is AU, for if the Earl of Wolleck had been lying to Sir Peter about the fire to test Ella's (and Sir Peter's) true motives for the marriage. He's realized that Ella had no part of her father's rejection and wants to marry her because he thinks she really does love him. Sir Peter has excepted his suit this time, or will at least. This story starts on the 23rd of May, a day which you diehards should recognize immediately, but for the rest of us, I'm gonna have a little fun with not telling you.
Rising from the Ashes
by Grimm Sister
I had signed my first letter to Char "Your impatient friend." And as silent as he claimed the Ayorthians were, I firmly believe that I am the more lonely without his correspondence. That's what keeps me from confessing that I love him, from telling him that I'm just the right age to marry. Once I caught myself halfway through telling him of the night father tricked me with the torlin kerru, hoping to prompt him to a response.
But what kind of games was I playing? Is that the kind of person that I wanted to be? In the end, I almost fear the real reason was that it was too embarassing.
The thoughts I'm really not proud of are the ones that come when I'm bone tired from slaving under Mum Olga and Olive's demands for company and food and Hattie's simpering need to assert her superiority over me. When all three of them come in a single day, I find myself thinking almost with longing of what would have happened if the Earl of Wolleck hadn't lost all in a fire. He was kind, he would have taken care of me. I could have avoided Mum Olga and her spawn completely, holded away in some manor house somewhere.
But Char, Char who penetrated even the torlin kerru daze, Char always brings me back. I would never have been happy. I might have been better off than my current circumstances, but I would have been miserable. I never would have known that it could have been worse, it certainly wouldn't have seemed that way.
I always told myself sternly not to expect a letter sooner than three weeks after I sent mine, and this was allowing for good roads. But always, inevitably I would catch myself gazing longing at the road that might bring a mail carrier with a letter from my only friend whom I was fast growing to love. My heart would catch in my throat when I saw a letter in Mandy's hand, even if it was the same day that I dispatched my own letter, even if I knew that it was an invitation for Hattie and Mum Olga. I couldn't bring myself to word the command to myself forcefully, "You shouldn't expect it. You should know that."
That was an admonishment. That wasn't a command. A statement. It had no effect. For once, I could use the curse for a good means and stop getting my hopes up so ridiculously soon. But either because I wouldn't give Lucinda the pleasure or I just couldn't resist the sweet idea that communication from Char would come swiftly, I never issued it in the form of an order.
That was why Mandy prefaced her announcement of a letter for me with the words, "It's not in the prince's hand, love, but you'd a letter at the postman's." She had looked worried at the light of hope in my eyes when I saw the parchment in her hand. Did she fear I was becoming too attached to the prince? What was wrong with that? It wasn't as if I had any other friends here in Frell. I've had only two friends in my life. And the curse had already stolen one from me. Lucinda and Hattie. It was hard to say who I hated more. Probably Hattie. She did it knowingly.
But it was little consolation that Lucinda meant no harm. Not when she had caused so much.
I returned my thoughts to the letter. It was in an unfamiliar hand. Whoever it was wrote in large, yet loopy handwriting that was nevertheless very masculine. It was also tilted slightly off its axis, as if the person writing was used to titling the paper at an extreme angle and had just this once decided to keep the paper parallel to the desk.
Stealing a glance up at Mandy to see if she knew its contents, I opened it and let the long roll of paper unfurl. It was in an elegant script. I didn't know that many people. Who on earth would write to me?
My dearest Eleanor,
Dearest? Eleanor?
My dearest Eleanor, I must confess, Eleanor, that I tested you and your father. A test that until recently
I believed you failed as well. With your clever mind you may even have seen through it as your
father did not. Surely you known his chicanery? As such you must know that he would have
checked the value of my estate before venturing to entertain me as a possible suitor for so
fine a daughter as yourself. He was not mistaken in his first impression.
It is not the first time that I have misled your father, I confess freely to you. Never
before, however, has it had such terrible consequences. For when I presented my test before
him, a story of a fire that rendered my wealth nearly non-existent, he dismissed me almost immediately
from his sight.
Enraged that I was so easily beguiled by this man, I turned away from you, perhaps my
only true chance for happiness left in this world. Once Sir Peter's deception was made plain
I marvelled that I had believed that one so young and lovely as yourself would truly care for
a man of my age if it were not for his position. I believed you part of Sir Peter's game.
It was not until my darling neice Blossom returned from finishing school that I learned
of my error. It was not a simple, abrupt revelation but one that came over time. From comments
gleaned here and there I developed a picture of your kindness and honesty that led to me believe
that you could not be involved in your father's web of deceit. When I finally questioned
Blossom at length and learned that you indeed befriended a girl of low rank and no material
wealth out of the kindness of your heart, my mind was made up. You could not have been affectionate
to me soley because of my wealth and title.
As such, I hastened to send you word of my test and blunder, confessing my mistrust
and my love in one letter. I pray that you can forgive me and that my mistake has not cost
me your hand. I pray you, answer me that you wish to marry me, that you love me. The moment
I have word from you I will set off to find your father and ask him formally for your hand
as I ask you informally now.
However my suit is received, know that I am forever,
I fear I must confess a grevious fault. Mistrust. Your father's reputation, I fear,
was my downfall. I could not trust blindly a man who had cheated so many. In all my dealings
with him I have been on my guard, and my all too brief courtship of you was no exception.
Your Edmund.
I gaped at the page.
Mandy looked up at me in question, "Well, what is it, Ella?"
But there were no words.
"Read it to me, Ella," Mandy commanded, obviously fearing that my silence was due to a command in the letter.
Suddenly, I found words. When I had finished reading, I stared at Mandy's face. It looked, calculating? Could that be the right word? Mandy wasn't the kind of person that I called calculating, oh sure she was smart (something that apparently was not a universal fairy trait) and she had tried to outsmart my father about the torlin kerru mushrooms once. That was the kind of look that she had now, but far more intense.
"Ella, you don't want to marry the Earl of Wolleck, do you?" Mandy said seriously.
I felt at once the almost overwhelming urge to laugh and the overwhelming sense that it would be the wrong thing to do at this moment. That was enough to make me release the laugh in full force. "Good, then we need to leave. Today."
"What? Why?" I said in surprise. Not that I was opposed to the general idea, of course. In fact, it was all that I had wanted since Father married Dame Olga. Oh to never have to call her "Mum Olga" again!
"Because we only have a few days before the rest of the household knows of this," Mandy replied as if this should have been instantly apparent. "We need to leave now, before your father learns of it."
"Mandy, he said he wouldn't go to Father unless I asked him to - "
"Think, Ella," Mandy commanded in the voice she when she was trying to edge me towards a certain conclusion.
"Blossom will have a heart attack if she finds out," I said slowly. "And Blossom will complain...to her friend Hattie!" Mandy nodded. "The only question is: what will Hattie do with it?"
That was the question indeed.
"Ask yourself Ella, does she hate you more than she's loyal to her friend?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation.
"Would she rather force you into a loveless marriage or keep you here under her thumb?"
"I don't want to wait around to find out," I said, unconsciously crumbling the letter in my hands. There was no question in my mind that if she knew about Char she would order me to marry Wolleck in a hearbeat.
"Pack. Quickly." An order. It was unneccessary. I was already off.
I stuffed everything into my carpetbag, wishing heartily that Olive hadn't taken my money. Where would I go? What would I do? Was Mandy going with me? I was in such a flurry I almost forgot the ragged pillow under which I had stored the glass slippers that Char and I had found. Would I never be happy like that again? Oh no! I couldn't communicate with Char anymore! How would I explain leaving my stepfamily's house? How would I contact him? What would happen if he wrote here before I could reach him?
Stop it, I commanded myself firmly. Think of this another day. Is it worth being forced to marry the earl to not miss a letter from Char? I didn't like the fact that I hesitated for a moment.
It was my complaints starting that saved me. Mandy had told me to pack, and I needed to pack.
Ten minutes later, carrying everything that I owned in a surprisingly light carpetbag, Mandy and I set off, leaving behind the last place I had ever thought to call home and was not the least bit sorry to leave.
©KatyMulvaney6-14-2004