Chapter 5 - Another Loss

I found my Stepmother in the living room in the morning and I asked her about the ball. "Stepmother, can I go to the ball with you?" Lady Clarissa was surprised at my inquiry.

"My dear, don't fancy yourself on these occasions, you are not of noble birth like us," she said while laughing mockingly.

"But Stepmother the invitation was addressed to our family," I said pleading.

"Don't be an insolent child!" She said irritably, her amused face turns to disdain.

"I don't want to bring you with us, that's final!" She said while staring scornfully at me.

I was heartbroken because it meant I could not see my prince again. I went to my room in the attic and cried.

Our home was a flurry of activity in the days leading up to the grand masquerade ball. My stepmother, Lady Clarissa, Belle, and Lindsay were immersed in the preparations, searching for the most extravagant ball gowns.

Meanwhile, I found myself watching their preparations from the shadows. With the loss of most of our servants over the years, our home had grown quiet and empty. The space that had once been mine was taken over by Belle, and I had been relegated to the attic, a solitary room where the memories of my past life lay dormant.

But despite the injustice of it all, I had found solace in the treasures that my birth mother had left behind. Her dresses, carefully preserved in the attic, had become my source of comfort and a tangible connection to the mother I had lost at a young age. The dresses may have been of a bygone era. Still, they fit me perfectly, enveloping me in the elegance and grace that my mother had once possessed.

One day, rummaging through the attic, I uncovered a treasure of immense sentimental value - my mother's wedding dress. It was a breathtaking garment, rich with history and tradition, and beside it, her glass slippers sparkled with timeless beauty. My heart swelled as I gazed at these cherished relics, a tangible link to the mother I had never known.

I stood before the full-length mirror, my eyes fixed on the breathtaking crystal white ball gown. The gown appeared to be a vision of celestial beauty, a masterpiece of design and craftsmanship. I couldn't help but marvel at its exquisite details.

The bodice of the gown was an actual work of art. It featured a delicate, off-shoulder neckline that emphasized her graceful collarbones. The intricate silver and crystal beadwork, meticulously hand-embroidered onto the bodice, glistened like a sky full of stars. The patterns formed elegant swirls and curves that seemed to dance across the pristine white fabric.

The gown's waistline was cinched, creating an hourglass silhouette that accentuated my natural grace. The skirt, I noticed, was a voluminous cascade of layers, giving the gown a sense of regal grandeur. I couldn't help but run my fingers over the silk and tulle that formed the layers, each as soft and delicate as a whisper.

The gown's material was a combination of silk organza and tulle, which lent it an enchanting quality. As I examined it more closely, I noticed that the fabric had a subtle shimmer, as if it held the secret of the moon's glow. 

I marveled at the train that trailed behind the gown. It was like a river of gossamer fabric, evoking images of waterfalls and dreams. The gown's train added a sense of grandeur and drama.

The moment of truth I had arrived when I lifted the gown and held it to my form. I couldn't help but be enchanted by how the gown seemed alive as I draped it over me. It billowed around me, and I felt like a radiant goddess. The beads on the bodice caught the light, sparkling and glistening with every movement. The gown created a breathtaking image, and I was left in awe of the celestial beauty it exuded. The layers of the skirt flowed gracefully, and I could almost imagine myself floating as I walked.

I proceeded to the kitchen to help Mrs. Shirley. I told her of my recent discovery in my mother's old Trunk. Mrs. Shirley, a woman with kind eyes, speaks gently to my ear, "Ella, there's something we need to talk about." 

I looked at her and asked in a shallow voice. "What is it, Mrs. Shirley?" Mrs. Shirley glances around to ensure no one is eavesdropping. "I've been worried, dear. Your mother's wedding dress and those glass slippers were meant for you." My eyes widen with surprise. I take a moment to absorb Mrs. Shirley's words. "For me?" I whispered to her. She nodded and said, "Your father, Mr. Oliver, intended them to be yours. He believed that you would wear that dress on your wedding day." My heart aches at the thought of my father's intentions. I realize the significance of these heirlooms, not just as beautiful items but as a legacy from my parents. "I had no idea, Mrs. Shirley." 

She whispered, "Lady Clarissa may not have the same reverence for your parents' memory. She could misuse or even sell these precious items for her gain." My determination surfaces. I know what I must do. "I won't let that happen. I'll keep it a secret, and she'll never know."

Mrs. Shirley smiles warmly at me, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"That's the spirit, dear. Your parents would be proud."

I nodded with newfound determination, vowing to protect my mother's legacy.

"Thank you for telling me, Mrs. Shirley. Your support means the world to me."

"You're like a daughter to me, Ella. I'll always be here for you."

We share a heartwarming moment, bound by our shared secret and unwavering affection. I am now more resolute than ever to know that my journey is fraught with challenges, but I will protect my mother's memory at all costs.

The grand ball was a much-anticipated event in the kingdom, a night for the nobility to gather and revel in opulence. It was a golden opportunity for my stepmother and stepsisters to shine in the royal court. As the anticipation for the ball grew, so did the extravagant expenses that my family incurred.

The price of the gowns they chose was nothing short of exorbitant, bedecked with the finest fabrics, intricate lace, and jewels that glistened like stars in the night sky. While incredibly beautiful, these gowns come with a price tag that further strains our dwindling resources. As I watched them prepare, I couldn't help but wonder where the money for these luxurious items was coming from.

The answers to my questions were revealed as the days went by. My stepmother's extravagant lifestyle had pushed our family to the brink of financial ruin. To finance her lavish desires, she had been selling our belongings individually. My beloved pet, Fluffy, had been the next to go, sold just weeks before the grand masquerade ball. His absence left a void in my heart that nothing could fill, and the silence that had once been punctuated by his joyful presence felt deafening.

Two weeks before the masquerade ball, the truth came crashing upon me. I had no inkling of the dark secret beneath my stepmother's preparations for the ball. 

The evening sun cast a warm glow over the estate as I went to the spot where I used to feed my beloved pet, Fluffy. I called his name, expecting his usual enthusiastic response. But the familiar sound of his purring and soft meows never came.

My stepsister, Belle, known for her sharp tongue and a penchant for cruelty, approached me with a wicked grin. "Looking for your precious Fluffy, Ella?" she taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

My heart sank, and I felt a gnawing unease deep within. "Yes, Belle," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "I can't seem to find him. Do you know where he is?"

Belle's cruel smile widened, and her eyes sparkled with malice. "Oh, Fluffy is gone," she said, relishing my growing anxiety. "Mother took care of it. You should ask her."

A chill ran down my spine as I struggled to comprehend her words. The idea that my stepmother had something to do with Fluffy's sudden absence sent a wave of dread washing over me. I could feel my pulse quicken, and the weight of her actions bore down on me. 

Determined to get to the bottom of this, I steeled myself and decided to seek an answer from my stepmother. Belle's cruel revelation had awakened a fiery determination within me, and I couldn't rest until I knew the truth about Fluffy's whereabouts.

As I entered the room, my stepmother looked at me, her eyes filled with a cold indifference that sent shivers down my spine. In a voice as chilly as the evening breeze, she uttered the words that pierced my heart like a dagger. "I've sold Fluffy," she announced nonchalantly, as though she had discarded an inconsequential trinket.

The world around me seemed to crumble as her words sunk in. The pain of betrayal was a weight that threatened to crush me. My tears flowed freely as my stepmother explained her reasoning.

"Child don't be ridiculous it's only a cat," Lady Clarissa said with disdain.

"Fluffy is a gift from Father! How could you do this?" I ask while crying. "That cat was my loyal companion, my only treasure in this world" I pleaded at her.

"Your treasure will help our family, don't be so selfish!" She said angrily.

Amid overwhelming sorrow, I couldn't bear to stay in that suffocating room any longer. With a heart heavy and torn, I dashed out of the house and into the night. As I ran, my cries echoed through the quiet streets, a wild torrent of emotions consuming me.

I made my way to the market, my heart racing with the hope of finding Fluffy there. I asked merchants and traders if they had seen a cat, my beloved Fluffy. The realization that my pet could be in the hands of a stranger gnawed at my heart, a torment I could barely endure.

Amidst the market's bustling activity, I finally spotted a cage containing a familiar furry form. There, I saw my dearest Fluffy locked in a cage. Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived. I rushed to the cage, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Mr. Falco please don't sell fluffy to anyone please?" I pleaded with him in desperation.

He was reluctant but he had seen the desperation in my eyes. "Okay, I will give you five days to repurchase your pet" He replied at last. 

"Thank you, Mr. Falco, I will get back to you." It was a small comfort amid my despair. I knew Mr. Falco. Over the years, I interacted with him frequently in the market, often selling our livestock. 

I knew I had a fighting chance to reunite with Fluffy. "It's time for me to talk with my stepmother," I said as I returned home.

The room is dimly lit by a single candle on a bedside table. The atmosphere is tense. Ella stands before her stepmother, Lady Clarissa, her eyes filled with anger and sadness. Lady Clarissa, adorned in opulent jewelry and delicate fabrics, lounges on a plush chair.

"How could you, Mother? How could you sell Mr. Fluffy?" I was trembling with emotion.

She looks at me with a cold, disdainful smile, eyes devoid of warmth.

She smirked, saying, "Why, my dear, I thought you'd be thrilled to be rid of that mangy creature. That cat was such a nuisance."

My fists clenched, my voice growing stronger. I was never so angry in my entire life until now. I shouted at her. "Mr. Fluffy was not a nuisance! He was my only friend, my confidant, my family!" "You've never understood that because you've never cared."

She raises an eyebrow, intrigued by my sudden defiance.

"Oh, what could you possibly know about me and my feelings?" She said Coyly to me.

"I know everything! I've watched you these past six years. I often wondered what happened to our servants and our belongings! Then I realized that you sold them! All for what? Your vanity? Your selfish desires?"

Lady Clarissa's expression hardens, and her tone becomes sharp.

"I'll have you know, Ella, I'm simply maintaining the lifestyle I deserve. Luxury is my birthright." She said coldly to me

I pace the room, unable to contain my emotions any longer.

"Your birthright? What about my birthright? What about the life I should have had, the love and companionship stolen from me? You've trampled on my dreams, on my heart, and you dare to call it your birthright?"

Lady Clarissa rises from her chair, standing inches away from Ella.

"Your dreams were foolish, Ella. A life of luxury, of being admired and desired, that's what truly matters. You're too naïve to understand."

My eyes burn with fiery determination as I meet my stepmother's gaze.

I fiercely told her, "Naïve or not, I understand something you never will. There's more to life than empty luxuries and hollow admiration. There's love, compassion, and the bond between living beings you've never experienced because you've chosen a cold, empty path."

Lady Clarissa's face reddens with anger as my words hit their mark. She was so furious that she slapped me in the face.

She said, "How dare you speak to me this way! You, a mere commoner's child! I took you in, and this is how you repay me? I should have sold you with the servants when your father died!"

I said to her defiantly as I touched my face: "I may have been born as a commoner, but I'm every bit my father's daughter. He was a man of honor, love, and compassion, qualities you'll never understand. You've turned his memory to ashes."

My chest heaves with emotion as my stepmother fumes with rage.

She was shouting when she said, "You insolent girl! You think you can defy me?"

I cried when I told her: "I think you've taken enough from me. I won't let you take anything more. Mr. Fluffy was the last straw."

She points a trembling finger toward the door.

"Then go! Leave this house and never return!"

I take a step back, tears streaming down my face.

I answered her while sobbing, "Maybe I will, Mother. Maybe it's time to leave behind the emptiness and cruelty that's ruled this place for too long."

I turn and rush out of the room, leaving my stepmother seething with rage.

The room is now empty, bathed in an eerie silence. Lady Clarissa is left alone, her expensive garments clashing with the emptiness surrounding her. In her furious isolation, she contemplates the truth in Ella's words, a reality she had been too blind to see.

She is convinced I will never leave the Mansion because I have nowhere else to go, but she doesn't know everything about my mother.