You had to start with one strong tower first, Ella knew, because strength was more important than height. If the first tower was sturdy, it set the standard for the second and third, and once you had three towers, they could be connected with walls. She reasoned that the walls were less important, because in the event of attack, it was the walls that would first be breached, but even once the walls were breached, a tower could still be held. In a tower with a well and a decently stocked storeroom, she was optimistic that the castle occupants could hold their own in decent, though diminished, accommodations for quite some time.
That is, if her occupants could restrain themselves from eating their way through the foundations in the meantime.
She sighed and dropped a handful of water from her bucket into a spare patch of dirt, absentmindedly churning it to mud. As she stirred, the earthworm escaping from the second tower disappeared behind a tomato plant. Ella smoothed the mud over the hole left behind and peering into the opening at the top of the tower, glad to see the two remaining worms still in place.
"I'll make you a moat next," she said to herself, "then you'll really be safe."
"Then who will be safe?" asked a voice behind her.
"Papa!" she cried, jumping up from the garden. He swept her up off her feet, and spun her in a circle before setting her back down.
"What's going on here, Colonel?" he asked, bending down to examine her handiwork.
"It's a castle for the earthworms! See them in the towers? I'm going to build a moat next!"
"So it is, so it is. Those are some strong towers you've made. But where are the earthworms?"
"They're in the towers!" She peered around his shoulder over the castle. "Oh no, they've escaped again! They keep eating their way out."
"Ah well, they'll do that on you. They're at home anywhere in the garden; walls of earth have as hard a time holding them as walls of gingerbread would have holding you."
Ella laughed. "I'd like to live in a gingerbread house when I grow up." Then she noticed he was wearing his good hat and waistcoat.
"Oh Papa, I've got mud on your coat. Where are you going?"
"Nevermind the mud, it'll dry and crust off easily enough. I'm meeting a friend in town for tea. Speaking of which, you should be cleaning up for tea too. Mrs. Wollens was just pulling fresh crumpets from the oven when I came through." He winked conspiratorially, but was then stopped short by a thought. "Ella, why are you out here? Shouldn't you be inside with your sisters doing your lessons?"
"I was, Anastasia and I were doing sums, and I finished, and I was helping Anastasia with hers, but Drizella was doing her French dictation for Madame and said our whispering was too distracting, so Madame told me I could be done for today, and I went down to see what Mrs. Wollens was doing, and she told me I could help weed the vegetable garden, so I came out here."
"Where you have been building a castle of epic fortitude for the lowly downtrodden. A more productive day than mine, it seems."
Ella laughed and took his hand. "You can help me make a better castle tomorrow, if you like, to make your day more productive."
Her father grinned. "Perhaps, we'll have to see. In the meantime, I may ask your stepmother to have a word with Madame, surely she has something you can be doing if you finish your sums so early in the future."
"Oh Papa, that's okay. I don't mind leaving lessons early."
He laughed. "Of course you don't. Neither did I when I was your age. But you only have so many years in which to learn as much as you can. Now that you have a proper tutor, you'll begin growing out of a wild little girl and into a fine young lady, like your stepmother."
Ella made a face. "I don't want to grow up to be like Stepmother, she moves too slowly and never smiles."
"Oh, you don't have to give up smiling to become a lady, you just haven't seen her smile yet. Different things tickle different people. And someday you'll look at your stepmother and be glad that she was here to show you what it means to be a fine respectable lady. Mothers are important that way." Nodding in agreement with himself, he pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. "Oh dear, I'm going to be late. Run along and wash up for tea, Colonel, I'll see you at supper."
Ella moved in to hug him again. "See you at supper, Papa." She giggled as she pulled away and noticed a fresh smear of mud across his sleeve. "Watch your sleeves!" she called after his retreating figure, laughing at his dismayed expression upon examining his sleeve.
Ella entered the drawing room for tea behind Mrs. Wollens, who bore the tea tray. As soon as she set it down, Drizella and Anastasia appeared and began rooting for the plumpest crumpets. Meanwhile, Ella's stepmother took one look at Ella and then drew back in disgust.
"Ella, if you cannot make yourself presentable for tea, please withdraw at once."
"What?" asked Ella, confused.
"I won't say it again. Living in the country is no excuse for us to abandon our sense of propriety. After all, cleanliness is next to godliness."
"But I am clean, you can ask Mrs. Wollens!" Mrs. Wollens had made sure of it after she came in from the gardens, inspecting Ella's face and hands herself after Ella washed up.
"She is clean, madam, I supervised her washing up myself," injected Mrs. Wollens.
"Mrs. Wollens, if I want your opinion I shall ask for it myself, is that clear?" said Ella's stepmother sharply, taking a step towards Mrs. Wollens as she spoke.
"Yes, madam," said Mrs. Wollens, bobbing a quick curtsy even while adding, "but she is perfectly clean."
"Mrs. Wollens, that will be all."
With another curtsy and a frowning glance between Ella and her stepmother, Mrs. Wollens left the room. Ella stood uncertainly, wondering whether she ought to go join Anastasia on the chaise longue or wait for her stepmother's permission, wary of disapproval.
"I am clean," she said at last.
"Ella," said her stepmother, turning back to her, "I know you have been lacking a mother's care for some time now, so I will overlook your impertinence today, but know this: a young lady never contradicts her elders, and a young lady never, ever suggests that the staff know better than their betters. I would never tolerate such impertinence from my own daughters, and this shall be the last time I tolerate it from you, understood?"
"Yes," said Ella timidly, not understanding, "but I am clean."
"Impertinent child! Are you mocking me? Your pinafore is filthy, and shall not be tolerated in my drawing room."
"Oh!" exclaimed Ella in relief, comprehension dawning. "I was out in the garden, you see, building a castle for the worms, that's where the mud came from. Papa says there's nothing wrong with good clean dirt, so-"
Her stepmother cut her off mid-sentence.
"Stop talking, Ella. I don't know where to begin. Building a castle for worms? I never heard such nonsense. As for your father, he is a man, and as such knows nothing of raising a respectable young lady. We must hold ourselves to a higher standard. Now, go and change your pinafore at once. When you have done so, you may take your tea with Mrs. Wollens in the kitchen. Your education seems to be stunted much further than I first thought, but I have no more energy to deal with it today. Think on what I have told you, and please come to tea presentably tomorrow."
Ella stood frozen after her stepmother finished speaking, her mind swirling with her stepmother's words.
"Ella!"
"What?" said Ella, jarred out of her thoughts.
"Was I not clear? Go and change. See Mrs. Wollens for your tea."
"Yes, Stepmother," said Ella, reflexively dipping a quick curtsy and making her escape. On the way out, she heard Drizella speak.
"She's not very bright, is she, Mother?"
"It seems not, darling. But you roll the dice and play the hand you are dealt. After all, you can't choose your family."
"You chose Father," pressed Drizella.
Her mother sighed.
"Yes, I did. I did choose him, but I did not choose his daughter. You see, very often in life you must make decisions without all the facts. There is always risk involved, but you must never let fear of risk keep you from playing the game. One does one's best with what one has to work with. Remember that."
"Yes, Mother," said Drizella.
In the hall beyond, Ella also vowed to remember her stepmother's words, determined to learn and live up to her new stepmother's standards and prove herself someday as a respectable young lady.
Ella crept slowly down the dark hall, wishing she'd thought to light a candle. It was late, hours after her father had come to say good night, but still Ella couldn't sleep. She knew that if she could make it to the kitchen without getting sent back to bed, and if Mrs. Wollens was still awake, the housekeeper would warm her some sweet milk, and so she muffled her cry when she walked into Anastasia's large Victorian dollhouse – what was that doing out in the hall? – and pressed on, biting her lip against the pain.
Ella didn't like the house when it was dark. Not that she was afraid of the dark, because Ella didn't believe in monsters or bogeymen; it was just that the dark made everything lonelier somehow.
She wasn't alone in the house tonight though. A loud and sudden snore erupted from her stepsisters' room as Ella passed, making her jump and freeze. A few seconds passed, then it came again, longer and drawn out, and Ella relaxed, continuing on her way.
When she reached her father's room, she was surprised to see light still shining from under the door. As she got closer, she heard voices.
"But that's exactly what I'm saying! She needs someone to show her, she needs womanly guidance; she needs a mother."
"Yes, but dear, she's practically a barbarian! You should have seen her come in to tea this afternoon; she was filthy! And the way she spoke to me! I don't know how you let things get this bad with her, I really don't."
Ella stomach flip-flopped as she realized the voices were talking about her.
"Oh come now, let's not exaggerate, I saw her in the garden this afternoon, she was just playing, as all children do. Give her time, be patient, she'll soon learn. She's got a good head on her shoulders, and she wants so badly to please you."
"No good Christian child bedecks themselves in mud for tea the way a heathen paints himself for the warpath."
"Dearest –"
"No, I will not be put off. Hear me out. The mud aside, Ella is your daughter, and so she is my stepdaughter. I accept this, and I will do my best to be her stepmother and bring her up in a matter fit for proper society, but you must understand firstly that I am not a miracle worker, and secondly that I also have the care and keeping of my own daughters weighing upon my shoulders."
"Of course, dearest. I only ask that you be patient with her. She hasn't had a mother's touch since she was very small, but Ella, my little Colonel, she's got a heart the size of the ocean. She hasn't the slightest sliver of malice in her, and she'll be the finest young lady in all the land someday, if only she has someone to show her the way."
Ella's bosom swelled at her father's words, and she felt a smile stray across her face. If her father thought so, then of course she would become the finest young lady in all the land, if only to prove him right. Her stepmother, however, was unimpressed.
"We'll see. I know that you and Ella are very close; it's been just the two of you for so long. But you and I, we won't be around forever, and we must ensure our children are equipped to survive in the world without us, and in the world beyond, that takes much more than rainbows and sunshine."
"For young men, of course, but for young ladies –" began Ella's father.
"No, I speak especially for young ladies. Women do not make the public scenes that men do, but they fight just as fiercely, and for far longer. A woman must be able to anticipate of the consequences of everything she does, from the clothes she wears, to the company she keeps, to the words she says, and even the thoughts she thinks, because other women will notice all these things, and will never forget any of them. Understanding this, and knowing how to wield it, is the key to a woman's success in the world. Perception is foremost, not intention."
Her father sighed, and Ella wondered what he would say to that, but his reply was interrupted by loud shouts from down the hall.
"Shut up, Drizella!"
"What? I was asleep! You shut up, you banshee!"
"I'm not a banshee! You're a foghorn! Sleep quieter!"
"I'm asleep, stupid, what am I supposed to do about it? Mother!"
Ella scrambled back into the shadows just as her stepmother burst through the door.
"Girls! Cease this racket immediately!"
Ella's father appeared in the doorway after her, but didn't follow his wife down the hall. After a moment of staring into space, his eyes adjusted to the dark and he raised an eyebrow in Ella's direction.
"Now, I know that's a ghost, because if it was a little girl, I'd have to march her right back to bed."
"Yes, Papa. I only wanted some milk."
He sighed. "Go on then. And if Mrs. Wollens or your stepmother ask, I didn't see you."
"Yes, Papa. Papa?"
"Yes, Colonel?"
Ella watched his face, trying to find the words to the questions she felt but couldn't name. Her father waited patiently, then slid down to sit on the floor and reached out to draw her onto his lap. Ella wrapped her arms inside his dressing gown around his middle and buried her face in his shirt.
"Stepmother says you don't know how to teach me to be a proper young lady."
He sighed.
"She's right. I don't. No one ever taught me, you see?"
Ella giggled into his chest.
"But Ella, I've got a secret to tell you about that."
"What?" she asked, her voice muffled.
"Part of being a proper young lady is about being quiet at table, and keeping a clean pinafore, and learning to powder your nose, but, and here's the secret, there's another part of it, a much bigger part of it, an infinitely more important part of it, that a lot of people forget to mention, and that's being a good person – being kind and considerate, putting others before yourself, and putting God above all. It's about helping those you can and not taking advantage of people less fortunate than you, about being equally gracious in victory and defeat, about giving real forgiveness and love from the bottom of your heart, even when it doesn't make sense to. All the most truly beautiful ladies know this, young and old. It's something you have to live by and practice everyday, and it's hard and sometimes you'll slip up, but that's okay as long as you pick yourself up and keep at it."
"How do you know?" asked Ella sleepily. "No one ever taught you."
"No one ever taught me, but your mother, Ella, she showed me, every day that I knew her she showed me. And you remind me of her in so many ways, but this is by far the most important one. Don't you ever forget that."
"Yes, Papa," murmured Ella, all plans for warm milk abandoned.
"All right. Let's get you to bed now." And her father stood, Ella snug and secure in his arms as he carried her down the hall to her room.