A Dream Not Imagined Read online

  “Goodness! Has there been word of a ball?” Lady Burch grasped Ellie’s arms, the jewels on her hat glinting in the sun and nearly blinding Ellie. “Do tell, girl!”

  Oh dear. Ellie opened her mouth to speak.

  A rumble of horses’ hooves sounded in the distance. Lady Burch looked up, one hand dropping from Ellie’s arm. Ellie looked up too, pressing a hand to the base of her throat. The rumble came nearer.

  “Make way!” the faint cry sounded. “Make way for the prince!”

  People backed away from the street.

  “Prince Charles!” Lady Burch gasped. “Oh, the dear boy!”

  Ellie barely spared the older woman a glance. Her heart beat faster. She rose on her tiptoes and raised a hand to her forehead abruptly, pushing back her kerchief.

  “Make way, make way! Make way for the prince!” A group of palace guards on horses trotted through the street.

  Goodness! Ellie started to pull at her kerchief, which had slipped to hang onto her back; but the royal carriage appeared over the rise at that moment, drawn by six regal horses.

  “Oh dear, Maisy and Fiona should be here,” she blurted out, but her voice was lost amidst the clattering of hooves. She gaped slightly as the curtain drew back from the carriage window.

  Lady Burch beamed and waved her handkerchief as if Prince Charles Edingworth was an old friend.

  The prince’s face appeared fully in the window. Confident, light-brown eyes evaluated the people gazing expectantly at him. Blond hair, styled perfectly, fell in waves that just touched his broad shoulders.

  I must tell Fiona he is very handsome, Ellie thought, her heart fluttering with all the excitement.

  Then, quite suddenly, those brown eyes landed on her.

  Ellie sucked in a breath, suddenly flustered and wishing her kerchief was securely on her head.

  Prince Charles assessed her before giving her a charming but regal smile and a precise nod. She couldn’t hear the words, but could have sworn he mouthed, We’ll meet again, I hope . . .

  And then the carriage swept by, and the prince drew his head back from the window.

  Ellie moved back a step, hardly able to comprehend the interaction. Dust from the carriage swirled around her, and she started coughing.

  “Why, Ellie,” Lady Burch breathed, hand pressed against her chest. “He was clearly looking at you!”

  “Oh, oh no,” Ellie murmured, shaking her head. “You must be mistaken.”

  “But he was!” Lady Burch smiled generously and patted Ellie’s shoulder. “And no wonder, dear girl, no wonder! I’ve always said Ellie Abbington was a beauty, yes indeed, despite those dour clothes.”

  “I—” Ellie pulled her kerchief firmly over her hair. Then she pressed her hands to her pink cheeks.

  “Too bad you couldn’t come to the royal ball, should there be one,” Lady Burch clucked sympathetically. Then she was on her way, bustling across the street.

  Ellie remained in place, still stunned by the turn of events. She pressed her hands harder to her face. “Why, I can scarcely fathom it.” Then, seeing a group of prominent people casting looks at her, she hurried by.

  “Pitiful thing,” one young woman murmured to her older companion as Ellie passed. “Whoever heard of a mere maid falling so for a prince?”

  “She should know her place by now,” the other woman huffed more loudly. “I daresay Lady Abbington has tried to teach it to her!”

  Ellie ducked into the dressmaker’s shop, smarting from the callous remarks.

  But they were right, weren’t they? The prince would never fall for her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A MESSENGER STOOD stiffly at the door. “An invitation from His Imperial Highness for Lord and Lady Abbington.” The feather on his scarlet-red hat bobbed in the slight wind.

  Ellie, standing nearby, swallowed a little gasp.

  Dezmarie and Adelaide squealed, but then snapped their mouths shut when their mother sent them a piercing glare.

  Lady Geneva Abbington swept toward the entrance of the Abbington home, sending another warning look over her shoulder.

  Ellie slipped deeper into the shadows. An invitation from His Imperial Highness only meant one thing.

  The doorman took the sealed missive and sent the messenger on his way before closing the door. “M’lady.” He bowed to Lady Abbington and handed her the letter.

  “Thank you.” Lady Abbington turned around and headed to the main sitting room. “Come along, girls.”

  Dezmarie smiled smugly and Adelaide smothered her gleeful giggles with her hand as they both hustled after their mother.

  “Might I—” But the words died on Ellie’s lips as the room door thudded shut. She turned away abruptly, ignoring the doorman’s sympathetic look. Give it up, Ellie! Just because the prince smiled at you doesn’t mean he cares to see you at his royal palace! “And it certainly won’t make Lady Abbington suddenly decide I’m fit to be her daughter,” Ellie added out loud in a low voice.

  She hated her vulnerability in that moment; her weakness to let her dreams soar as soon as the prince happened to smile at her. Because it had the power to crush her heart. Because she’d never be anything more than a maid.

  “Worse is an actual broken heart than just a broken hope,” Ellie told herself sternly, and willed the tears back. She spun on her heel to go.

  “Ellie, Mother needs you in here too, if you would!” Adelaide cried, suddenly under the curved ceiling of the main sitting room’s door.

  Ellie jumped a little. “W-what was that, miss?”

  “Mother must have a word with you. You may as well come in now.”

  “Oh.” Ellie touched her hair and tugged off her apron. “Are you certain?”

  “Of course, you silly girl,” Adelaide said, making a face. “Do hurry, Ellie!”

  Ellie tossed her apron on a table in the corridor, and slipped into the room.

  Lady Abbington was busily breaking the royal seal on the letter and didn’t spare Ellie a look. Dezmarie, however, scowled as Adelaide let her in.

  Ellie ducked her head to avoid the young woman’s angry gaze.

  Adelaide hurried to sit down beside her sister and looked expectantly at their mother.

  Ellie wrung her hands awkwardly, trying to decide where it would be most prudent to sit. Or if she should sit at all.

  Lady Abbington half looked up as she unfolded the invitation. “For goodness’ sakes, do sit, Ellie! You look ridiculous standing there in the middle of the floor!”

  Ellie avoided Dezmarie’s smirk and lowered herself into the first seat she found, her cheeks tinged red.

  Lady Abbington smoothed the paper on the small table in front of her. She read: “You are hereby invited to a ball hosted by His Imperial Highness for his son, Prince Charles, in hopes of finding a suitable future princess.”

  Dezmarie pressed a hand against her mouth, and Adelaide nearly swooned.

  Ellie sat very still, remembering the prince’s eyes upon her. A shaft of loss went through her as she realized she’d probably never see him again.

  “Every eligible, of-age, young woman in each invited household must be present at His Imperial Highness’s palace on the eve of June twenty-first . . .” Lady Abbington’s voice trailed off and she finished the letter silently.

  “Oh, a royal ball,” Adelaide sighed. “Prince Charles . . . Oh, I do so hope he picks me.”

  “Don’t be pathetic,” Dezmarie huffed. “Out of thousands of young women, why on earth would he choose you?”

  Adelaide’s cheeks flamed red and she snapped back, “And do you think he will choose you with that sloppy figure you’ve recently acquired?”

  “I—you—!” Dezmarie was on her feet and about to slap her sister when Lady Abbington’s cool voice cut across the room.

  “Stop it, girls! Sit, Dezmarie. Hold your tongue, Adelaide. We’ve the invitation’s contents to worry about, not petty quarrels.”

  “The contents?” Dezmarie seethed.

&n
bsp; “Every eligible, of-age, young woman.” Lady Abbington quirked an eyebrow.

  “Ellie’s not eligible!” Dezmarie cried at once, as if anticipating her mother’s next words.

  Adelaide looked shocked. “Ellie go to the ball? Of course not!”

  “Settle down,” Lady Abbington said in a mild voice. “We know Ellie isn’t eligible, but . . .” She shook her head. A slight shadow passed over her face as her eyes slid shut.

  Ellie’s lips parted, her mind unable to comprehend what her stepmother was alluding to.

  “Mother?” Adelaide spoke hesitantly.

  Lady Abbington’s eyes snapped open, and she laughed lightly and properly. “I will sort it out. Now. Ellie, may I ask where you were this afternoon?”

  Dezmarie and Adelaide deliberately cast their eyes elsewhere, pretending to be totally indifferent to their mother’s question.

  Ellie swallowed, her mind trying to release the information about the ball and process the question posed. “Uh . . .” She smoothed her dress. “I was on an errand on behalf of Dezmarie and Adelaide.”

  “Oh, don’t drag the girls into this!” Lady Abbington smacked her small hand against the table. “I want to know why you went into the village without my permission!” Her eyes blazed.

  Ellie sat back in her chair, surprised and confused at the older woman’s vehemence. “I suppose I didn’t think it would matter,” she muttered softly.

  When she looked up, Lady Abbington’s face was calm and poised again. “You are my maid, Ellie, never forget that. Furthermore, you were needed here while you were in the village, and I was greatly distressed.”

  “I apologize, m’lady,” Ellie said quietly. “I did not realize.”

  “Well, now you do,” her stepmother said smartly. She elegantly touched the auburn locks twisted and piled into a regal up-do on her head. “And, girls”—she arched a look at her daughters—“the material could have waited.”

  Dezmarie pressed her lips together, while Adelaide looked duly chastised.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Lord Thomas Abbington lowered himself into an elaborate chair, graying brown tufts of hair sticking out in every direction from his head. He rubbed a hand over his green velvet doublet, the buttons of which were strained to stretch over his large stomach. “Some ale!” he bellowed, eyes squinting.

  “Thomas, please,” Lady Abbington said from the other end of the table. “It’s wine.”

  “Ale, wine, whatever; just get me some of it,” Lord Abbington answered.

  Dezmarie smirked and daintily speared a vegetable with her fork.

  The color in Lady Abbington’s cheeks heightened. “Thomas, in all these years since you’ve entered the nobleman’s realm . . .” She shook her head. “Have you not learned manners?”

  Her second husband just snorted.

  Ellie hustled around the large table and set a goblet of wine in front of her father. “Will you be needing anything else, m’lord?”

  Lord Abbington glanced up at her and scowled. “No! Get out of here, girl!”

  Ellie skittered away, heartbeat accelerated at his angry voice.

  “Oh, Ellie, there is something I must say.” Lady Abbington’s voice was pleasant, but her eyes veiled.

  “Yes, m’lady?”

  Lady Abbington gestured to a chair at the great table. “Please, sit.”

  Dezmarie’s and Adelaide’s mouths dropped open.

  Lord Abbington chomped at his food moodily.

  “But m’lady,” Ellie protested incredulously, tugging at her apron.

  “Just sit!” Lady Abbington snapped, her calm façade gone. Shoulders rigid, she nodded to the chair again.

  Ellie sat limply, eyes staring at the table. Good gracious, what’s going on now?

  Lady Abbington cleared her throat.

  “Just tell her, woman!” Lord Abbington growled.

  His wife shot him a glare. “Very well then. Ellie, due to circumstances, your father and I feel it’s best that you attend the ball with us.”

  Attend the . . . Ellie felt her jaw collapse from its proper position.

  “What?” Dezmarie shrieked.

  Adelaide stared at her stepsister, face paling. “Ellie come with us? Absurd!”

  Lord Abbington pounded his fist against the table. “She’s my daughter; I’m the lord of this household; she’s attending the ridiculous ball!”

  Lady Abbington breathed in sharply, her lips pressing firmly together.

  “She cannot attend!” Dezmarie said, aghast. “She’s not fit for proper company!”

  “What will she wear?” Adelaide cried.

  “I’m certain there will be some left-overs when your gowns are made that Ellie can use for herself,” Lady Abbington said. “The fact is, the king might see Ellie as eligible, and if we don’t allow her to attend it could mean disobeying His Imperial Highness.”

  There was absolute silence except for Lord Abbington’s noisy slurping and chewing.

  “So, the matter is closed. Ellie will be attending the ball with us.” Lady Abbington gave Ellie a pointed look.

  Ellie bounced up from her chair. “Thank you, m’lord, m’lady. Is there anything else you will be needing?” Her voice was dazed.

  “No,” Lady Abbington said, annoyance creeping into her tone.

  “Now go!” Lord Abbington ordered.

  Ellie fled the room.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  That night, Ellie lay with her ear pressed against the floor of her room, trying to more clearly hear the voices rising from Dezmarie’s bedchamber.

  Since the other servants generally shunned Ellie and she was, after all, an Abbington, she did not sleep in the servants’ quarters but rather was gifted with the small room adjoining the attic.

  From there, her stepmother’s and stepsisters’ argument rose through the floor boards.

  “Mother, I won’t have it! I won’t enter a royal ball with that lowly-bred . . . pig by my side!” Dezmarie cried.

  “Dezmarie, really,” Adelaide’s voice came more softly. “I know Ellie’s our maid, but she hardly deserves to be called a pig.”

  Dezmarie huffed, sounding on the verge of a temper-fit of raging tears. “She doesn’t deserve to go to a ball!”

  “Now Dezmarie, you know Ellie is Lord Abbington’s daughter.”

  “By some peasant girl he should have never married!” Dezmarie shouted.

  “He wasn’t high enough back then to be scolded for marrying a peasant girl,” their mother said sharply. “But Martha is dead now and Thomas is titled and is married to me. I won’t have you speak of him so rudely.”

  “You should have never married him!” Dezmarie accused her mother. “Then we wouldn’t be stuck with Ellie!”

  Ellie winced at the way her name was spit out like a foul word.

  There was complete silence for a moment in the room below.

  Then Ellie strained to hear her stepmother’s low, furious words:

  “Watch your tongue, daughter. You know nothing”—her voice grew steadily louder—“do you hear me? Nothing!”

  A moment later, a door slammed.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  By morning, Ellie had almost forgotten the overheard argument, since nasty things were often said against her. She lay in her small bed feeling sweetly and dazedly excited. She was going to the ball. She would, after all, see the prince again.

  She was unable to forget those handsome brown eyes and charming smile.

  “Perhaps he thinks of me even now,” Ellie murmured to herself. “Perhaps he has fallen in love with me.” She quickly envisioned a royal, gold-accented carriage taking her away forever; the handsome Prince Charles seated beside her, smiling at her adoringly. What would it be like to be truly loved? “Perhaps my dreams will come true after all!” she exclaimed softly.

  Dawn was peeking through her window, beckoning her to get up.

  Ellie slipped out of bed and smoothed the blankets over the cornhusk mattress. “I mus
tn’t be so silly,” she warned herself in a scolding tone. “It really is a ridiculous daydream.”

  But her heart was dancing, her mind conjuring up ways the prince might ask for her hand in marriage.

  “He only smiled at me,” Ellie spoke into the still room. “I’m sure I mistook the words he mouthed.”

  But she remembered Maisy and Fiona’s simultaneous squeals when she had related the incident of seeing Prince Charles.

  “Why, of course he noticed your beauty!” Maisy had admonished.

  “He’ll seek you out,” Fiona had cried excitedly. “He will find you somehow and true love shall reign!”

  Ellie had only smiled. But now her mind reeled with possibilities.

  For she was going to the ball.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ELLIE WOUND THE strings around her hands and tugged.

  Adelaide drew in a strangled breath. “Harder, Ellie! I’ll never fit my dress at this rate!”

  Ellie eyed the green dress’s slim waist and then her stepsister’s bright pink face. “At this rate, you might faint dead away before you even meet Prince Charles.” Her voice unintentionally softened at the last two words.

  Adelaide shot her a sharp glance and huffed through her constricted breathing. “Don’t be impertinent!”

  Ellie lowered her eyes and tugged harder at the corset strings. “Sorry, miss.”

  Adelaide appeared almost ashamed at her harsh tone, but only pressed her lips together.

  “Ellie! Where is Mother’s heirloom brooch?” Dezmarie’s voice rang out from the chambers across the corridor. “The pearls and yellow jewels will match my gown perfectly.”

  Ellie knotted the first few ties on Adelaide’s corset and glanced nervously in the direction of Dezmarie’s chambers.

  “Ellie!” she yelled again, sounding extremely miffed.

  Ellie yanked at the last two ties, causing Adelaide to gasp, and secured them hurriedly. Then she promised to be back and rushed across the hallway.

  She had already dressed Dezmarie in an extravagant red gown trimmed with yellow velvet and dozens of pearls; and now the young woman was impatiently pacing the floors, her auburn hair hanging down her back.