Isabell awoke to an empty room the next day, courtesy of her step-mother. She nearly started crying as well, remembering that even Ursa and Johnathan would be leaving soon. Still, she fought hard to regain her composure before making her way down the stairs. When she reached the front door, the old couple was busy gathering up the last of their things. As live-in servants, they really only had necessities like clothing with them. Everything else remained back at Johnathan’s home property back in town, not that they owned all that much.

Isabell immediately ran over to embrace the two of them tightly. They of course, covered her with sweet words and tender kisses.

“Be a good lass and come to our home as quickly as you can. We believe in you!” Johnathan whispered.

Ursa hugged her back tightly. “Yes, come as soon as winter if you are able. And even if you cannot save up enough, come to us anyways. The lot of us can figure something out!”

Isabell smiled with hope. That’s right, she would only be enduring this life for a short period of time longer. Then, she would be forever free! Maybe not from poverty, or from hunger, or from the cold, but at least from loneliness and cruelty.

“I will! Now be safe on your way back home you two. Be safe…” she said softly.

Ursa smiled and exchanged a look between her husband. He gave a warm grin, and pulled something from his back pocket.

“And here, a small parting gift,” he said, holding out a small box.

Isabell took the gift and quickly opened it. To her shock, she recognized the contents all too well.

“Father’s scarf…” she whispered, pulling out the old wool garment.

Ursa nodded. “Yes, we thought to keep at least that for you. It was all we could afford to save child.”

Isabell laughed with joy as she put the scarf to her nose. Her father, it still smelled of him, and of the attic where it had resided for so long. And now it was hers again. This time, she would be sure to keep it safe from the clutches of her family.

“Thank you. I cannot express how…how much I love you both…”

The aged woman gave her one last hug. “Aye, and we you.”

Then the servant bells in the kitchen began to ring, indicating the awakening of her wretched step-mother and sisters. The couple reluctantly turned to leave, hoping to spare her the displeasure of being late on the morning chores. Nevertheless, Isabell ignored the bells for a whole five minutes as she waved her dearest friends off from the door, until they were no longer in sight and had passed through the front gate. Then she returned inside and got started on the day.

Tiresome, that was a good word to describe everything that soon followed. Rachel wanted all of her dresses mended to better show off her figure, while Lucille demanded assistance in designing new hairdos that would help her stand out above her sister. Meanwhile, her step-mother would scold her for lack of cleaning, as if she could be in three places at once!

Eventually it came time for supper, and Isabell managed to escape into the kitchen alone for a good two hours as she cooked. She never liked to stoop to hurting someone who had wronged her, but tonight it was no lie that she did not try to make the meal all that tasty. After all, with her being the only servant in the house, it wasn’t as if she would or could be fired for such neglect. Besides, everyone was so preoccupied with the ball, they didn’t even stop to notice the bland flavors of the food.

“Oh mother, I cannot wait for the ball! I hear the prince is very handsome, and charming. Not many of the young Ladies have seen him, but the older woman in town have talked about him nonstop since the invitations went out.” Lucille sighed.

Isabell rolled her eyes. He was probably just as vain as the rest of the men born into nobility. Charming only to those of consequence, and handsome only to those after his wealth and title.

“Indeed sister, and not only that, you forget that Tristan has four brothers as well. Dustan, Roan, Dorian, and, even the youngest, Callan. Should one of us fail to entice the man in-line,” Rachel paused to look at her sister as she spoke. “We could still wrangle ourselves another prince in the end.”

Isabell felt sick to her stomach at just hearing such shameless talk! Speaking of men like they were animals to be hunted and tamed? As if their crowns were a prize to be fought over and lured in by trickery? Was that truly the way of women in this world?

“True my dear, which means there are five opportunities for you both. I will not accept failure in this sense, since you are both worthy and deserving of the title of Princess!” their mother warned.

Her daughters beamed with pride, looking excited for their upcoming hunt. Isabell for her part, focused on ignoring what was left of the disgusting conversation as supper continued. Then, once it was finally over, she made quick work of the cleaning. Then, late into the eve, she slipped into bed and pulled out her father’s old scarf. She held it to her chest, savoring the memory of his smell and warm smile.

Isabell looked over towards the bin of garbage in her room. She had thrown the scraps of that strange letter away, hoping to hide its discovery from her step-family. However, she now found it odd that Rachel had not even once asked about the note. If this had been meant as a cruel prank by her step-sister, then why hadn’t she been quick to mention it? No one in this house was patient enough to wait for the crushing of her spirit. In fact, any of them would have jumped at the chance to shatter any hope the letter might have garnered! So, why had such a golden opportunity been neglected?

Isabell sighed. Honestly, she didn’t much care. Cruel joke, or simple misunderstanding. Either way, that letter held no hope for the likes of her.

******

The following morning came in a rather dreary way, with a heavy rain pour waking Isabell from her deep slumber. The chill in the air made her shiver, so she quickly got herself dressed and headed down to the kitchen to stoke up the oven. It did not take long for the rest of the house to wake, which started off yet another long string of tiresome events.

“Why are you so very slow today? We have less than one month to prepare for this ball, yet you choose to dilly-dally through the day. Hurry it up already!” Rachel hissed, holding out another dress which needed mending.

Isabell nodded in compliance and put the broom down. “Of course, I was only-”

“No, I am the one who needs the most help! You already have plenty of dresses finished!” Lucille snapped, running up behind them.

Her sister scoffed. “You are in need of help alright! Look at you, sister, as plain as a board.”

Isabell wisely backed herself away from this confrontation, not very keen on being dragged in the middle of a sisters quarrel.

“Me? Plain?”

Rachel snickered. “Indeed. Even Isabell holds more charm to a man!”

Lucille’s face grew red with rage. “YOU WRETCHED PIG!” she screamed, lunging forward.

Her sister squealed with fear and took off running down the hall. “Help! Mother!!”

But Lucille chased after her with fury, catching her by the hair.

“I hate you! I hate you! How would a man feel towards a bald woman!?” she shouted, yanking on her blonde locks.

“MOTHER!!” Rachel screamed.

Almost instantly, their mother appeared from her room, chasing after her two best means of gain.

“Girls! Girls!” she snapped, trying to pull her daughters apart.

Then her step-mother turned towards her. “Isabell!”

Isabell rolled her eyes, but obediently came over to help separate the bickering women before any real damage could be done.

“Enough of this nonsense! Lest you scar your pretty faces and become worthless in this competition!” their mother scolded.

Lucille scoffed. “Rachel would not die from a little scarring. This is a masked ball, remember?”

That was true. But why was the Prince having a masked ball in the first place? Didn’t that defeat the purpose of gathering so many beautiful women together? Although, Isabell supposed that a gal’s face was not her only means of appeal. Perhaps the Prince was more interested in a woman’s figure. That was not uncommon for a man.

“Girls, girls, enough! We talked about this, remember? You both need to go and win a prince, it matters not which one. Lord Tristan would be the most acceptable, but any of them would do. So, stop fighting amongst yourselves, and recall that the real competition begins at the castle. There will be countless other women just as determined as you!” their mother explained.

Both girls glared at each other, but reluctantly nodded in surrender.

“You are right mother, we had better save our energy for all the hogs we shall be up against,” Lucille muttered.

“Indeed, not that any other girl may hold a candle to the pair of us,” Rachel declared.

Her sister laughed, her anger already replaced by petty vanity. “So true! We are sure to capture any man’s exclusive devotion!”

Their mother smiled with relief at their getting along. But then she turned her attention towards the one person who was somehow always at fault.