The sun was nearly a full handbreadth above the horizon when they returned. Mrs. Wollens carried Ella on her back, and Ella had almost dozed off when Mrs. Wollens set her down.
"We're home," she said softly, opening the kitchen door.
"Welcome back," said a cold voice from within, making them both jump. They stepped inside, and their eyes slowly adjusted from the bright snowy sunlight to the shadows of the kitchen to see Ella's stepmother sitting stiffly at the table.
"Madam," said Mrs. Wollens.
"Ella, make us some tea," said Lady Tremaine.
"Oh I'll do that," said Mrs. Wollens, throwing her cloak on the hook and moving to the kettle.
"No," said Ella's stepmother abruptly. "I asked Ella to do it."
"The girl's had an awful night, she needs to rest-"
"Ella, make the tea," she said again.
"Where's Bruno?" asked Ella suddenly. Since the winter had started, he usually spent his night in the kitchen, but this morning he was nowhere to be found.
"The mutt is in the yard, where he belongs," answered her stepmother. "I won't ask you again, Ella."
"He'll freeze out there!" protested Ella. She turned to go outside again, but her stepmother was faster, and grabbed her arm.
"I asked you to make tea," she said slowly. "You may go outside when you have done so."
Ella struggled against her hold, tears welling up in her eyes.
"If you go outside now, I will not allow either of you back inside the house until spring," said her stepmother. "Do I make myself clear?"
Ella stopped struggling, more out of shock than acquiescence, but when her stepmother released her, she turned back inside, went to the stove, and knelt down to reach inside its belly and rekindle the fire.
"That wasn't so hard now, was it?" her stepmother asked. "I am not unreasonable."
"Madam-" started Mrs. Wollens.
"Mrs. Wollens," interrupted Lady Tremaine. "Tell me where you were."
"I took Ella to see her father," said Mrs. Wollens, after some hesitation.
"After I explicitly forbade it?"
"Yes."
"You disobeyed me. You disappeared with a child. You abandoned your post while on duty."
"My duty is to that girl and her father!" said Mrs. Wollens hotly.
"Not anymore!" snapped Lady Tremaine. "Her father is dead, I am mistress of this house and all within it, and your duty is now to me, and me alone."
"You would deny her the last chance to see her father, and you would deny him the last chance to see his only remaining family! She was the last light of his world, and you had no right to keep her from him! You don't know what he was like after her mother-"
"You presume too far," said Lady Tremaine, rising. "You forget your place, and you forget mine. That chit is far from his only remaining family, I am his wife!"
"A wife in the church maketh not a wife in the heart," said Mrs. Wollens. "Nor in the bedroom, for that matter."
Lady Tremaine's nostrils flared and her face blanched, even as her height towered over Mrs. Wollens. She glared down venomously into the housekeeper's eyes, then struck her across the face so quickly that without the crack that echoed through the kitchen and the reddening handprint on her cheek, Ella would have missed it.
"How dare you," said Lady Tremaine quietly, her voice low and tight. "I will not tolerate disobedience and disrespect from my staff. You are dismissed, Mrs. Wollens. Collect your belongings and leave at once." She turned to leave without waiting for a response. At the kitchen stairs, she paused and turned and locked eyes onto Ella, still kneeling by the stove.
"Bring the tea to my sitting room when it is done. And take two cups to your sisters."
Ella watched her skirts swiftly swish out of sight.
Mrs. Wollens finally broke the silence.
"Come on," she said, "Let's go find Bruno."
"But the tea-"
"The water doesn't need our help to boil. Besides, we'll hear the kettle from the yard."
So they put on their cloaks again and ventured back outside.
"I'm sorry she hit you," said Ella suddenly, awkwardly, painfully. Someone had to say it, and she doubted her stepmother would be apologizing any time soon. "Are you okay?" she asked, glancing sideways at Mrs. Wollens. The red handprint shone clearly in the bright sun, each finger crisp.
"I will be," said Mrs. Wollens, grimacing. She saw Ella's face and sighed. "I'm sorry you saw that. And heard that."
"Thank you for taking me to see Papa," said Ella.
"You're welcome."
"It looks like it hurts," said Ella. She stooped down and picked up a handful of snow, offering it to Mrs. Wollens. "Maybe this'll make it feel better."
"Thank you," said Mrs. Wollens, hissing softly as she touched it to her face. "Now where do you suppose that dog's gotten to?"
"The only tracks out here are ours," said Ella.
"So he's been out since before the snow stopped. I'll bet he's found himself somewhere warm to wait."
Mrs. Wollens was right. They found him in the stable, nestled into the horses' hay. Ella fussed over him, checking him all over, but he seemed no worse for his night out.
"Oh Bruno," she said. "I'm sorry you were out here. I'm sorry I wasn't here."
"That was out of your control," said Mrs. Wollens.
"I know," said Ella. "I'm still sorry for it though."
Mrs. Wollens smiled sadly. "You have a kind heart, Ella."
"Are you really going to go?" she asked.
"I have to."
"I could talk to her," offered Ella. "Papa wouldn't want you to go."
"I'm not sure it matters anymore what your Papa would have wanted. Besides, I've made a scene. I can't stay after that. It's time for me to move on."
Ella played with one of Bruno's long soft ears idly, trying to imagine life without either Mrs. Wollens or her father.
"You promised Papa you'd look after me."
Mrs. Wollens sighed. "What would you have me do, Ella?"
"I'd have you stay."
"And your stepmother?"
Ella's brow furrowed.
"She scares me," she said. "Especially now."
"You'll learn to get along. I pushed her too far, and that's my fault, but that had nothing to do with you. She's your family now. It'll be different than it was with just you and your father, but there's nothing wrong with different."
"Me and my father and you," said Ella. "Won't you miss us?"
"Of course, I'll miss you and your father very much, but that doesn't matter. Your stepmother is right, she's the mistress of this house, and if she says I go, I go."
"I wish I were old enough to be mistress of this house," said Ella.
"You will, someday. But in the meantime, you're starting a new chapter. Find a way to love your stepmother and stepsisters. You've all suffered a loss, and you need to help each other through. Family's important for that."
"I want you for that." Ella reached up to take her hand.
Mrs. Wollens stared at it sadly. Ella looked up at her face. The handprint was already fading. Melted snow trickled along her jaw and down her neck, disappearing into the folds of her cloak. She looked tired, and older than Ella had ever seen her.
"It can't be me," she said brokenly. "You don't have me anymore." She let go of Ella's hand and took a step backwards. Ella, still crouched down by Bruno, felt a cold wind sweep into the void.
"Mrs. Wollens-"
"Goodbye, Ella." Mrs. Wollens turned and left the stable quickly. Ella found herself too surprised to follow, but she watched her all the way back to the kitchen door, head bent and back hunched against the wind. Mrs. Wollens didn't look back. It occurred to Ella that there might have been more than melting snow wetting Mrs. Wollens' cheek.
Bruno whined.
"I don't know," said Ella. "I don't understand."
A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it into Bruno's fur. Then the flood started in earnest and she drew him close, a barrier against her tears, against the wind and the cold and the snow, against the aching hole of her father's death and Mrs. Wollens' departure.
It was hunger that finally moved her, hours later. She wasn't sure if she'd slept, or merely drifted away in the tides of thoughts, but a sharp ache in her belly reminded her that she hadn't eaten since noon yesterday. She nudged Bruno off of her lap and stood, reaching for the wall as she swayed unsteadily. She felt Bruno watching her carefully.
"I'm alright," she told him. "I just need some breakfast. Or dinner," she amended, registering the setting sun. "Come to think of it, you probably do too. Come on."
Together, they made their way across the yard. Ella pushed on the kitchen door, only to find that the inside bolt had been drawn, locking them out.
"That's funny, Mrs. Wollens never bolts this door," said Ella. "But then, I guess Mrs. Wollens has left by now."
Sighing, she led Bruno around to the main entrance. This time, she wasn't surprised to find the lock in place. Standing on tiptoe, she found the doorknocker just within her reach.
Drizella opened the door, Anastasia giggling behind her.
"Thanks Drizella, someone bolted the kitchen door-"
"Uh-uh," said Drizella, blocking her way as Ella tried to step inside. "We're not supposed to let you in."
"What? Stop playing, I'm cold and I need to eat something."
She tried again to move past, but again Drizella moved in front of her.
"I'm not playing, and I don't care if you're cold, you were stupid enough to go outside in the first place. Besides, we missed our tea this morning because someone thinks her dumb dog is more important than her sisters."
"What? It's not that I think Bruno is more important, I started the tea and then…" Ella's voice trailed off as she tried to piece the morning back together. "I started the tea, it was on the stove, and we were going to come in when we heard it whistle, and then, and then Mrs. Wollens left…" She felt a wave of nausea as she remembered Mrs. Wollens walking away, before Bruno whining beside her brought her back. "Come on, Drizella, let me in!"
Ella felt tears pooling as she pled, and wiped at them angrily with the back of her hand.
"Ooh, look Anastasia, she's crying! Cry-baby," cackled Drizella.
"Now Drizella, young ladies do not call names." Lady Tremaine appeared behind her daughters, and regarded Ella critically. "However much truth they hold."
Ella shrank back away from her stepmother, but as she did, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass of a picture frame behind her stepfamily. Her hair had long since escaped the careful plait Mrs. Wollens had put in the day before and now sported stray pieces of straw. Her face was pale. Her eyes were wet and rimmed with red, and held a desperate wildness that Ella didn't recognize. Mud caked her cloak and the skirt of her dress, and Ella knew it would be worse in the back where she had sat on it most of the day. In short, she looked as bad as she felt.
She took a deep breath.
"Please may I come in?"
"Now you want to come in."
"I'm cold, and I haven't eaten-"
"Quiet. I told you that if you went back outside before making tea you would find yourself outside until spring."
"Yes, but-"
"I said quiet. Understood?"
Ella nodded silently.
"Good. As I was saying, I told you that if you went back outside you would be outside until spring, and you went back outside nevertheless. Am I wrong?"
Ella shook her head.
"I asked you a question, speak up. Am I wrong?"
"No," said Ella. "But-"
"No buts. Those are the facts. This is not complicated. I am not in the habit of breaking my word."
Ella shivered, and pulled her wet cloak tighter around her shoulders.
"Please," she said. "I can't stay out here. Give me another chance. I was wrong, I shouldn't have left, but I won't do it again, I promise."
"Hear that girls?" said her stepmother. "She promises. But I wonder, can she keep her promises?"
"Yes, I can, I promise!" cried Ella desperately.
"She promises she can keep her promises. Not terribly useful. We could run down this rabbit hole all night."
"Let me show you," said Ella. "Give me another chance."
"Very well," said her stepmother slowly. "Here is your second chance: You may come inside, but only as far as the kitchen. You will bring all three of us tea every morning. Do this faithfully until the dogwood blooms, and then you will regain free reign throughout the house. Fail, and you will wait out the winter with the horses. Agreed?"
"Agreed," said Ella quickly. "May I come in now?"
"Certainly."
Relieved, Ella started to come inside, but again Drizella blocked her way as her stepmother continued.
"Drizella will unbolt the kitchen door for you. Meet her there."
Drizella slammed the front door shut, nearly clipping Ella on the nose. She stepped back and drew in a shaky breath, tangling her fingers in Bruno's fur.
"I'm okay," she said. "They're letting us in."
Sighing, she turned to retrace her snowy footprints back to the kitchen.
True to her stepmother's word, the kitchen door swung open at Ella's touch. She was alone, Drizella hadn't stayed to greet her, but Ella didn't think they had anything to say to each other if she had stayed. Ella found a matchbook and lit the fire, then took off her wet things to dry in front of it. She tried the door to Mrs. Wollens' room, but found it locked. Only as far as the kitchen, her stepmother had said. That was the deal.
Ella tried to calculate when the dogwoods would be in bloom. Too long from now, she thought, as a fresh wave of fatigue swept over her. Two months, maybe more. Two months of staying below stairs, two months of making and serving tea, two months of sleeping on the floor. The thought overwhelmed her, but she told herself it was manageable.
Besides, she thought as she drifted off on the rug next to Bruno, two months was nothing considered against a lifetime without her father or Mrs. Wollens.