Free Ella: an Everland Ever After Tale by Caroline Lee Page A

just makes sense that we’d marry and combine them. And he’s so, so handsome…” She trailed off with another sigh.
    Sibyl’s mouth was pulled down in a little frown, but Ella wasn’t sure why. She’d never met Roy—of course she hadn’t—and so had no idea if he would be a good husband for Mabel. But then, what did it matter? Any husband would mean that Mabel was gone from her life.
    “I don’t think he’s the kind to love you, though, Mabel.”
    Their oldest stepsister dismissed Sibyl’s quiet claim with an eye-roll. “ Love ? Who cares about love ? He’s rich, darling; that’s what matters. Only fools care about love.”
    Sibyl’s chin came up, and Ella felt a little burst of pride at the girl’s gumption. “I must be a fool, then. I’m only going to marry for love.”
    Remembering all of the novels and fairy tale books that Edmund Miller had purchased for his youngest daughter, Ella bent back over the hem. Sibyl had always been the romantic in the Miller family; she used to insist on Ella taking her outside after the sun set to search for the first star of the evening. She’d screw up her little face, and whisper her wishing-chant to the heavens: Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight… Ella hadn’t realized that the girl was still so ideological; she wondered if this youngest stepsister of hers still wished on stars.
    “For love? In this town? Who would possibly love you?”
    Even Ella winced at Mabel’s dismissive insult. The Miller sisters were always chatting about their social events and teas; surely there were young men here who Sibyl could love? But again, her youngest sister defended herself. “Any number of them, I’m sure. Roy’s brother Max is handsome, in his own way. Or his friend Ox, who seems sweet. Or Casey Jones, or the three Gruff brothers, or even that handsome shopkeeper—you know, the cripple.”
    Absolutely all of the blood in Ella’s body rushed to her ears to pound there, blocking out Mabel’s scowled response. She could tell from her older stepsister’s gestures that she didn’t think much of the town’s offering of men. Ella’s ears began to clear just in time to hear her finish: “…and as for Mr. Crowne, he’s entirely too reclusive. Maybe if he got out and joined the community a bit more, spent some of that money he must be hoarding, he’d be more attractive as a husband.” She ticked off his faults on her fingers, blithely unaware of her angry stepsister, crouched at her feet. “Maybe, then , you could consider asking him to court you. If he could manage it—how do you think he dances, with that crutch of his?” She dismissed him with a wave. “No, he’s not real husband material.”
    Maybe not for you, you self-centered— Ella clamped down on her thoughts, afraid that they might appear on her face. Better to not respond to her sisters’ discussion at all, than have them realize how badly she wanted to defend Ian. He was a good man, and didn’t deserve to be insulted by Mabel. She willed Sibyl to defend her choices, but their overbearing sister must’ve beaten the girl back behind her magazine again.
    Unfortunately, that meant that Mabel turned her attention back to Ella, who wasn’t sure that she could speak yet, without betraying her outrage on Ian’s behalf. “I hope that you’ve got our picnic baskets planned, Ella. I absolutely do not want a repeat of last year’s fiasco.” Last year, Ella had had the audacity to pack two baskets with the same food. “Eunice and I are doing you the favor of decorating our own baskets this year, so that you’ll have time to cook.” Decorating? You’re tying a ribbon around the handle, I’ll bet . Mabel smoothed her hair back, and pinched her cheeks slightly, still intent on her reflection. Ella resisted the urge to poke her with a pin and claim it was an accident. “The very least you can do is make sure that we’re bringing different meals.”
    Ella hmmmm ed, not willing to agree,