A Dream Not Imagined Read online

  “Not because of some grudge,” Ellie contradicted quietly, eyes firm, “but because of my God, who has a greater dream for my life. Because you ignore that God. Because you don’t love or cherish me. Because my heart belongs . . .” Her voice trailed off. Because my heart belongs to another . . . Her eyes widened as she thought of Rowen.

  “Listen, Duchess Davonley.” Prince Charles’s voice had lowered to a soft caress. “I do love you. And if some peasant man has flattered you, don’t heed him. You will be much happier married to the prince of all the land.”

  Ellie’s spine straightened and she met the prince’s brown eyes with a level gaze. “I would a hundred times over rather marry that some peasant man than you,” she stated calmly. “Now leave this house at once. I have nothing more to say to you.”

  Prince Charles’s face became a mottled red. “How dare you?” he rasped, anger filling his eyes. “If you think—” He took a threatening step toward her.

  Ellie instinctively jumped back and grabbed for a weapon, remembering Thomas Abbington’s tendency for physical violence toward her. Her fingers closed around the cool iron of the fire poker, and she hefted it up, holding it straight out in front of her. “You can’t force me, Your Highness,”—her voice wobbled—“and you can’t threaten me.”

  The prince looked slightly surprised—even abashed. Then he jammed his fancy hat atop his head and strode toward the door. “You have not heard the last of it,” he barked, and stormed out to where his guards were waiting.

  The poker slipped from Ellie’s cold fingers and she collapsed into a lavish chair, tears starting to run down her cheeks.

  A life with him would have been miserable. She was ever so happy he had turned her away that terrible day of the ball.

  The door swung open and Duke Davonley came into the room, eyes alight. “My dear Antoinette; the prince! Has he asked for your hand? He wrote me a letter some days ago, asking for permission. Of course, I granted it—”

  “Duke Davonley,” Ellie said, wiping her eyes on the satin sleeves of her gown.

  He looked surprised, then handed her a handkerchief, frowning. “You really should carry a handkerchief, Antoinette.”

  Ellie nodded. “Of course. But I must say something. I have refused Prince Charles, and I will not reconsider.”

  The duke’s mouth dropped open. “W-what?”

  “I will not wed the prince.”

  “Antoinette, this is a most honorable match!” The man straightened abruptly and began to pace the floor. “The most favorable match of all, for that matter! How could you refuse him? He’s everything a young woman would want, especially one who’d grown up as a maid!”

  His words hurt. But Ellie held fast. “He is cruel and uncaring. Selfish and unhappy. And he is not for me.” Ignoring her supposed-father’s loud, blustering warnings, she slipped out of the room.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  She ran out of the immense castle just as it began to rain softly, tears streaming down her face. Prince Charles was angry. Duke Davonley was angry. Lady Abbington was angry. She was confused and stuck—unhappy at the Abbington lands, unhappy at the Davonley estate. Lord, I don’t know where I belong anymore. I don’t feel like either of those places is my home. I am not a maid, but I’m not a duchess either. Tell me, Lord . . . wherever You want me to be . . . show me . . . please. Help me to understand who I am. Give me peace.

  The light sprinkle dampened her fancy gown and made her elegantly swept-up hair become limp and undone. Her elaborate, pinching shoes sloshed through mud puddles. She didn’t know where she was going at first, but somehow, an invisible path led her to the little meadow she had supposedly met a peasant boy in as a little girl.

  Is it true? Ellie sank to the ground, her skirts billowing around her. Lowering her face in her hands, she began to cry in earnest.

  “Lord, my dream was to marry the prince, but I found it was not to be. Now I find I am a duchess and am living with a father who wants me to make a good match—presumably with Prince Charles. I don’t think living here is the right path for me . . . but neither do I want to go back to the Abbington castle. I’ve run out of dreams, God.” She tasted the salt of her hot tears. “I don’t know what to do now . . . please, hold me, Lord . . .” In the chill rain, she felt a warm presence envelope her and a certain comfort touch her.

  God still had that dream for her.

  Some moments passed and Ellie still sat in the rain, quickly becoming soaked to the skin.

  “Ellie?”

  Ellie jumped and stumbled to her feet.

  Big, warm hands grasped her elbows and lifted her up.

  “Rowen?” Ellie looked up, and glad tears sprang to her blue eyes that were rimmed with red. “Oh, Rowen! You’re here!”

  There was a strange look in the depths of his eyes, but he squeezed her wet hands. “Ellie, I came the next morning but found you were not home. No one would tell me anything, so finally, I came here.”

  A tear slipped down Ellie’s cheek, but she looked up at Rowen with confusion. “You . . . came here? Why, Rowen?”

  “You are a duchess, aren’t you?” Rowen said softly, his voice sounding strange.

  Ellie’s forehead furrowed, then her eyes widened and her heart began to pound.

  Rowen reached up hesitantly and brushed a wisp of hair from her eyes. “You are . . . you really are.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a cloth bulging with its contents. “I . . . brought you something . . .” The cloth fell open.

  Oh . . . Ellie’s lips parted and she stretched out a trembling hand to touch dancing slippers that were so very soft and pretty, embroidered with fawns, and moons, and flowers dancing in the breeze.

  “I made you some dancing slippers, Annie,” Rowen said in a low, suddenly achingly familiar voice, “like you always wanted.”

  A sob escaped Ellie’s lips and she pressed her fingers to her mouth quickly. Oh.

  They flashed through her mind—the sweet memories. A young lad, a solemn promise . . . “I will make you the softest slippers you ever felt . . .”

  “Oh!” Ellie cried, fresh tears springing to her eyes. “Rowie . . . ?”

  He stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her to his chest. “Annie . . . Ellie.” His own voice was thickened with emotion.

  And Ellie remembered. Rowie, the kind little boy who had been her most treasured and best friend when she was a child. Now Rowen Jennings, the strong, caring man he had become. Her friend while she was a maid; the man her heart had come to love—had already loved.

  At last, Rowen gently pushed her back, holding her at arm’s length. “There were many times I thought I saw her in you,” he said, smiling tremulously. He wiped a hand over his mouth. “I began to believe in my heart that my little friend Annie hadn’t died . . . that she’d come back to me as Ellie.”

  Ellie clasped his hand, her heart so full with emotion she could hardly speak. “I remember, Rowen, I remember it all now. I’m so glad you found me.” Her voice trailed off as she struggled to regain control.

  Rowen looked at her, eyes serious but asking in the fading light. “I understand if you want to marry nobility now that you know you are a duchess . . .”

  “No,” Ellie answered quietly. “Realizing I’m a duchess doesn’t change who I am—not really.” And in her heart, she knew there was only one man she could marry. One man who had been ordained for her by God since they were little children. Fresh swells of emotion overtook her and she silently thanked God for keeping her from making a terrible mistake that momentous day of the ball.

  “Then, Ellie,” Rowen said quietly. “I know it’s soon, but . . .”

  Ellie’s breath caught in anticipation.

  “But I feel as though I’ve always known you. And in a way, I have. There’s no child that I thought of as a dearer friend than Antoinette,” Rowen spoke. “And there’s no woman I’ve ever felt love for as I do for you, Ellie. I loved you as a child, and now I love you as the
woman you’ve become . . . Please, marry me.” He drew her fingers up and kissed them gently.

  “I will, Rowen, yes!” Ellie said, laughing and crying softly in the rain. “I love you. I would be ever so happy to marry you. Ever so happy!”

  As the rain poured down in their meadow, Rowen drew her into his arms and tenderly kissed her hairline above her temple. “I love you, Ellie.”

  Thank you, Lord, thank you.

  EPILOGUE

  THEY WED A week later in that same meadow. The sun cast balmy light onto the fair, rustling grass and the birds called out to each other in sweet melody.

  Ellie wore a simple gown of white linen that frisked in the wind around her ankles. The gauzy overdress of transparent material fluttered about her, revealing her soft, delicate dancing slippers. A red sash was about her waist, matching the wreath of flowers in her sunny-blonde, unbound hair hanging in waves down her back, and the embroidered red flowers on her slippers.

  Her father, Duke Davonley, sat in the front row of simple wooden chairs set up in the meadow. He had apologized for his rash words of frustration and bewilderment, and was now wiping moisture away from his eyes as he watched his daughter walk up between the chairs toward her husband-to-be and the priest. Lottie, Rowen’s family, and some others also were in attendance. And Ellie had even glimpsed Adelaide in the back, amidst the trees.

  Rowen reached out and took both of her hands, and, smiling up at him, Ellie bound herself to him as his wife and soul-mate.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  After the simply sweet ceremony, Ellie danced in the meadow with her beloved until the wee hours of morning.

  . . . And it was better than any dream she could have ever imagined.

  ###

  What’s coming next from Shantelle Mary Hannu?

  Silver Rose

  (Called to Light – Book One)

  TRUTH IS QUICKLY FADING INTO MYTH . . .

  BUT FOUR WILL RISE TO FIGHT TO SUSTAIN IT . . .

  Karalee Rose lives in Zelvin, central city of the Kingdom of Tenebris. She longs for something more; but at seventeen, with strict keepers and a looming wedding, the knowledge of freedom is far from her. The only thing that keeps Karalee from losing all hope is a light that seems to favor her, and a mysterious Voice who claims that she is loved, and escape is near.

  In a whole different Land, a scarred man shuns redemption and lurks in the shadowy outskirts of Lidepia; the place that was once his home. He hears the Voice calling him, but is too ashamed to answer. But who is the young woman he keeps unintentionally meeting up with? Why does he see her in strange visions?

  Enter, a skilled swordsman from the Kingdom of Tenebris and a shy, unassuming girl living in a lowly village.

  These four come together by a Force not of their own as they are about to be swept up into an unimaginable quest that will change their lives forever.

  But will they heed the magnificent plan of the King and find the purposes of the Silver Rose . . . or will their souls be lost to the Keeper of Darkness forever?

  Coming Soon . . . !

  Acknowledgements

  There’s so many people who deserve a big ‘thank you’ from me!

  My Aunt Marla, for editing A Dream Not Imagined through its early stages, and giving such encouraging notes!

  My mom, for editing and supporting me in this endeavor.

  Emily H., for wanting to read my little story (that’s a huge thing, you know!), and writing a glowing email about it that warmed my heart.

  Ashley K. and Moriah K., for reading and loving on my stories, A Dream Not Imagined included. *smiles*

  Jaye L. Knight, Deborah O’Carroll, Skye Hoffert, Serena M., and Deborah C., for being my beta readers for A Dream Not Imagined. I couldn’t have asked for a better first experience with beta readers. Thanks bunches!!

  An extra ‘thank you’ to Jaye L. Knight for making my sister’s drawing into a cover for A Dream Not Imagined (a.k.a. designing the cover). And for answering so many of my questions about indie-publishing, among other things!

  Also an extra ‘thank you’ to Deborah O’Carroll, for proofreading A Dream Not Imagined and just being such a huge encouragement and support!

  My sister Natasha H., for drawing a beautiful picture of Ellie to be A Dream Not Imagined’s cover!

  And to the three sisters under me, including Natasha, for listening to my stories and encouraging me on in writing. Look where I am now! My first story published! Thank you so much for being the first ones to read and like my stories! *happy smile*

  To all those who have written reviews or given me glowing thoughts on A Dream Not Imagined, thank you so, so much! It means more than you can know!

  A resounding, humble, and heartfelt ‘thank-you’ to my King—my Redeemer and Friend. You are the One who gave me the ability to and the passion for writing tales and opened up all the doors to blogging, meeting helpful authors, and finally, publishing. I pray that my stories bring glory to You and shine Your light to the world.

  About the Author

  SHANTELLE MARY HANNU was born in the mountainous west, spending her golden childhood years there. Since then, she has relocated time and again with her parents and seven siblings, making cherished memories in both the South and Central United States.

  A Christian homeschool graduate, Shantelle has a passion for writing and all things books. From a young age she’s been penning tales with a hope of sharing with the world adventurous and soul-stirring stories that bring glory to God.

  A Dream Not Imagined, a fairytale novella, is her first published book. She’s currently preparing a full-length fantasy novel for publication as well, and working on its sequel.

  Shantelle blogs at A Writer’s Heart: http://shantellemaryh.blogspot.com/ about her stories, favorite books and movies (with reviews), healthy wheat-free recipes, and hosts fellow authors, among other things. One of her joys is connecting with fellow writers and readers. You can also find her on:

  Facebook: Shantelle Mary Hannu, Author: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Shantelle-Mary-Hannu/1622068488014168?ref=aymt_homepage_panel

  Twitter: @shantellemary: https://twitter.com/shantellemary

  Goodreads: Shantelle Mary Hannu: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13804303.Shantelle_Mary_Hannu

  Google+: Shantelle H.: https://plus.google.com/101772131563789927466/posts

  Pinterest: Shantelle H.: https://www.pinterest.com/h0160/

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  EPILOGUE

  What’s coming next from Shantelle Mary Hannu?

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author