"Over two hundred years," Ella's father replied proudly.

"How long has your family lived here?" Drisella asked, running a finger along the fireplace mantel and checking it for dust.

A short while later, the newly combined family made its way into the drawing room.

Anastasia snorted. "And in all that time, they never thought to decorate?"

"Hush," Lady Tremaine snapped. "They will think you are serious."

Ella's father, however, stared at his new wife, trying to gauge her feelings about the place. "Well?" he asked, hoping for her approval.

Lady Tremaine looked around the room, her gaze flitting from the chairs to the pictures on the wall. In turn, Ella watched Lady Tremaine. She knew that the woman was judging the house and, therefore, her mother's touch. Finally, Lady Tremaine answered, "Very homely." While her smile seemed approving, Ella couldn't help noting the dual meanings of the word. Her stepmother went on. "It does lack a little sparkle and gaiety. Though I suppose there has been little enough to celebrate… until now. We must change that!"

Lady Tremaine wasted no time in planning many parties. She invited everyone she thought worthy, including numerous well-dressed lords and ladies. The household staff found themselves stuffed into formal servants' outfits while the cook baked and grilled and baked some more. As the guests began to arrive, the house did indeed fill with laughter. But, Ella noted as she looked around the room, the laughter was not kind. It was snarky.

As she spoke, Lady Tremaine looked directly at Ella. If Ella were to disagree, it would seem rude, and Ella knew her father would be hurt. So she simply nodded. While she liked the house, it might not be such a bad idea to bring some life back into the place, add a little more laughter. What harm could come from that?

Ella watched as her stepmother and her guests speculated on the goings-on in the kingdom, cackling meanly as they gossiped. Then, noticing movement out of the corner of her eye, Ella glanced to the side of the room. She smiled as she saw a tiny house mouse, whom she had named Jacqueline, making off with a fallen chunk of cheese. The food was nearly as big as the mouse herself, and she struggled under its weight.

Enough had changed already in her home. The least she could do was make sure her old friends were safe from the new intruders -- even if she wasn't so lucky.

"You're missing the party," Ella said, walking into the study.

Suddenly, Ella heard a hiss. Lady Tremaine's beloved cat, Lucifer, was stalking over. The name fit the creature perfectly. He was the one animal Ella had not been able to win over. He was mean and aloof, showing affection only to Lady Tremaine and snapping at anyone else who dared to come near him.

"Just what do you think you're up to, Lucifer?" Ella asked, reaching down and picking up the cat by the scruff of his neck. "Jacqueline is my guest. And the eating of guests is not allowed." Nodding at the little mouse, Ella took Lucifer out of the room.

Down the hall, Ella's father sat in his study, going over his accounts. Ella stood in the doorway, looking around the familiar room. Lady Tremaine's touch had not found its way to this room, and for that, Ella was glad.

Ella's father looked up and smiled wearily. "I imagine it is much like all the others. And I'm leaving first thing."

"You're hardly back from the last trip," Ella said, her voice quavering. "Do you have to go?"

"Nothing, Father," Ella replied.

Her father cocked his head. "That is a curious request."

Ella returned the smile. This was one of the games they played: identify the quote. When she was younger, the quotes had been simple, but now her father enjoyed testing her with more obscure references. This one, however, she knew. "King Lear." Her father nodded proudly. Suddenly, inspiration struck. "I know," she said. "Bring me the first branch your shoulder brushes on your journey."

"You'll have to take it with you on your way," Ella explained, "and think of me when you look at it. And when you bring it back, it means that you will be with it." Her face grew serious as she looked at her father. He seemed smaller to her, weaker even. She knew that each trip he made took a toll on him. "And that's what I really want -- for you to come back. No matter what." She shuddered as a wave of foreboding washed over her. She had a terrible feeling, as if her father wasn't coming home.

"I'm afraid so," her father replied. "And what would you like me to bring you home from abroad? Your sisters…" His voice trailed off as Ella shot him a pointed look. He cleared his throat and corrected himself. "Your stepsisters have asked me for parasols and lace. What will you have?"

"'Nothing will come of nothing,' " her father replied, smiling mischievously.

"Very much," her father said. "Very much."

"I will," Ella's father replied. He paused and then added, "Now, Ella, while I'm away, you must be good to your stepmother and stepsisters. Even though they may be… trying at times."

"I promise," Ella replied.

Ella's throat closed up. They very rarely spoke of Mother these days. "I miss her," Ella said softly. "Do you?"

Shaking her head, Lady Tremaine turned and walked back down the hall. It was pointless to allow emotion to get the better of her. She was the lady of the house now, and she would make sure Ella learned that while her father was away.

"Thank you," her father said, sounding relieved. "I always leave a part of me behind, Ella. Remember that. And your mother is here, too, though you see her not. She is the very heart of this place. That is why we must cherish this house, always. For her."

As Ella and her father fell into companionable silence, they were unaware of a figure just outside the door. Lady Tremaine had heard them talking of Ella's mother and felt a wave of anger and jealousy rush over her. Her new husband's words just then felt like a betrayal.

When the carriage was finally out of sight, Ella also made her way back into the house. She was passing the drawing room when she heard her name called. Wiping tears from her eyes, she entered the room.

Anastasia and Drisella were far less upset. "Remember the lace," Anastasia called after the carriage. "And my parasol!" Drisella added. "For my complexion!" With that, the Tremaines headed inside, leaving Ella alone.

All too soon, Ella once again found herself standing in front of the house looking at a carriage. But this time the carriage was not bringing a new family home to her; it was taking her only real family away. As her father waved good-bye, Ella's eyes filled with tears. Lady Tremaine stood beside her, her back straight and her expression unreadable.

Lady Tremaine was seated comfortably on one of the chaises. Her hands were clasped in her lap, and a look of smug pleasure spread over her face. From down the hall, Ella could hear her stepsisters arguing about clothes and closet space. "Yes, Stepmother."

Lady Tremaine smiled coldly. "You needn't call me that," she replied. " 'Madam' will do." She paused as one of her daughters let out a piercing shriek. Then she went on. "Anastasia and Drisella have always shared a room. Such dear, affectionate girls. I think they are finding the quarters rather confining."

Ella listened to the screaming from the hall. She couldn't argue with her stepmother. Her new sisters did seem on edge. And she had made a promise to her father to make them feel welcome. "My bedroom is the biggest besides your and Father's. Perhaps they would like to have it?"

Lady Tremaine raised an eyebrow. She had expected to tell Ella to give up her room, not have it offered.

"The attic," her stepmother finished. "Quite so."

"I can stay in…" Ella went on.

Ella was taken aback. "The attic?"

"It's nice and airy," Lady Tremaine went on. "And you shall be away from all our fuss and bother. It would be even more cozy for you if you kept all of this…" Her hand swept around the room, indicating the small objects and keepsakes Ella and her father had collected over the years. Lady Tremaine's hand paused on a small portrait of Ella's mother before she finished. "… bric-a-brac up there with you. To keep you amused."

Ella didn't know what to say or do. She was overwhelmed by the sight of her stepmother wearing her mother's ring, and her new living arrangements. Without her father's reassuring presence, she had no one to turn to for comfort or guidance.

Ella was quiet as she glanced at the "bric-a-brac." Her eyes landed on the image of her mother. "Have courage and be kind. Promise me. "Her mother's last words to her echoed through Ella's head. A protest died on her lips and she simply nodded. "Madam."

Lady Tremaine smiled as though she had won a great battle. And then she pointed to the books on the shelves. "You may take these away as well," she said. "Natural philosophy, mathematics, histories? These books are too… bookish for me. They depress my spirits. And they take up space."

Lady Tremaine stood up, grabbed one of the books, and handed it to Ella. Ella nearly gasped aloud. There, sparkling on the ring finger of Lady Tremaine's left hand, was the engagement ring Ella's father had given to her mother. Why was Lady Tremaine wearing it? Ella knew her father would never have given it to her.

Stopping to collect a few things from her old room, she made her way up to the attic. When she opened the door, she was met with a gust of cold, dusty air. No one had been up there in years, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling, while a thick layer of dust coated the floor. Various objects were strewn about, having been dumped into the attic when they were no longer of use. Just like me, Ella thought. She spotted a narrow, beat-up bed in the corner and moved it under the single window. Then she sat down. "Well," she said aloud, trying to make the best of it, "no one shall disturb me here."

As if on cue, Ella heard a tiny squeak. Then she saw Jacqueline and Gus, the two house mice. "Oh!" she cried out, pleased to see her friends. "So this is where you take refuge. Me too, it would seem."

The small furry creatures looked up at her, their little whiskers wiggling as though in agreement.

Ella smiled. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. There were no stepmothers, stepsisters, or even pesky stepcats to bother her and her animal companions. No, this might not be so bad at all. Plus, now that she had been sentenced to the attic, things couldn't possibly get any worse, could they?

Ella quickly discovered that things could, indeed, get worse. She was at the mercy of her new family's every whim. They complained that the country air exhausted them, so, in order to help the staff with the Tremaines' increasing demands, Ella began taking breakfast to their rooms every morning. Soon their lethargy started to extend through supper, tea, and dinner as well. The bells in the kitchen that had long been covered by dust through lack of use began to ring throughout the day, signaling yet more requests from Ella's stepfamily.

One afternoon, as Ella moved around the drawing room, Drisella practiced her singing and Anastasia drew. Neither girl was good at her hobby, and while Ella tried not to, she couldn't help cringing when Drisella hit a particularly high note.

While Anastasia and Drisella lounged, Ella rushed to and fro, picking up empty plates and clearing the dirty laundry only to watch her sisters carelessly throw more clothes on the ground. When the girls and their mother retired to the drawing room for the afternoon, Ella was expected to make sure the dust was wiped clear and the curtains were pulled back to let in the sun. There was always a complaint. A smidge of dust, the sun too bright.

Perched in her chair, Lady Tremaine watched her stepdaughter rush to and fro. Despite her dirty dress and her messy hair, she was still infinitely more poised than either of Lady Tremaine's daughters. She did what she was asked, always agreeably, always willingly, and it infuriated Lady Tremaine. The lady realized that if she wanted her daughters to look better, she would simply have to make Ella look worse. She would have to figure out a way to extinguish the light of Ella's good character -- at any cost.

(Oh, dear reader, can you see how dark hearts are so scared of the light? Always so cruel, these jealous types. Funny how they never seem to learn…)