Her stepmother sniffed. “I should think that we would need all the food we can get. But I suppose a loaf of bread can come out of your share.”
Ella opened her mouth to protest, but Tabitha waved her hand dismissively in Ella’s face. “Not a word,” she said. “If you’re going to be so reckless with our food, you’ll have to learn the hard way. I should have expected you to be so stupid as to simply give away your portion. I expect supper on the table when your sisters get home from school.”
Ella bit back the retort that was rising up. Her stepsisters had no need for school, but they were still going because the new schoolteacher seemed to be an eligible young man. They couldn’t meet any eligible young men staying home, so her stepmother sent them off every day to school, leaving Ella to take care of the farm herself.
Ella sighed and left the kitchen. It wasn’t worth the argument, and if she snuck down to the kitchen after bedtime to eat something, her stepmother would never know. She never stepped foot in the kitchen herself, much less was she aware of what food they had.
That was Ella’s job, just like everything else.
She whipped up a soup for dinner and sliced the bread, neatly hiding away the heels for herself. Her stepmother and stepsisters didn’t like the heel of the bread, which was fortunate for Ella, because it was her favorite part.
And if there was one speck of joy in her life, it was her ability to make as many loaves of bread as she wanted, just so she could eat the heel.
She called upstairs that dinner was ready just as the girls walked in the door, a bag over Flora’s arm. Of course, they had gone shopping. Why wouldn’t they? They didn’t have to think about where every penny went.
One of them tried to call after her, but Ella didn’t answer, hurrying away instead.
She didn’t have it in her to be nice to them at the moment, so it was better to leave, and she had chores anyway.
She went to the barn first. They called it a barn, but it was more like a shed, housing only their two goats.
Perhaps they would have more someday soon, but for now, it was just Fig and Date.
Tabitha and the girls thought it was silly of her to name them after treats, but she had a sweet tooth that she didn’t get to indulge often. Naming the goats after some of her favorite goodies felt like a gift to herself every time she went to take care of them, which was often since, of course, neither her stepmother nor stepsisters could be bothered to take care of their animals.
That, too, was her responsibility.
She didn’t mind tending the animals, though. At least they loved her.
She could hardly remember a time when she had someone to love her, other than the few friends she had made here in the Northlands.
Her father had died when she was young, her stepmother was not the loving type, and her stepsisters liked to pretend that she didn’t exist.
But to the goats…she was their whole world, and that made everything better.
She milked Fig and Date and carried the pail into the house, where she set it off to the side to cool before she began washing the dishes from supper. None of the others would dare to dirty their hands with such a menial task.
Her stomach grumbled and she quietly opened the cupboard where she’d stashed the ends of the loaf of bread, sneaking one out and gnawing on the end of it as she swept the floor, tucking it into her apron pocket between bites.
If Tabitha caught her eating when she’d said not to, she’d be very cross. So even though Tabitha rarely emerged from her bedroom, especially when it was time for the evening chores, she listened for any unusual sounds as she cleaned.
But there were none—only the usual sounds of the girls fighting over something inconsequential, and Tabitha puttering around her room with her blasted cat.
Not that Ella minded Tabitha’s tendency to hide in her room. It certainly made her life easier.
The satisfaction of a job well done filled her as she looked around the spick and span downstairs. The bedrooms above might always be a mess, but she drew the line at cleaning their bedrooms. The sounds of bickering and drawers opening and shutting had long since ceased and she was working by candlelight, but this was the most peaceful time of her day.
Working alone into the late night left her with plenty of time to think about an infuriating man with brown eyes that seemed to see right through her and an impertinent grin that made her want to smile back, even as she wanted to see it disappear.
She shook her head to herself as she picked up her candlestick and made her way up the stairs to the tiny corner that she called her own. She’d draped a curtain around for privacy, and it only held the tiniest cot in the world, but it was a space that was hers.
She changed into her nightgown and blew out the candle, tucking her cold feet under the blanket and snuggling down.
Flashes of her conversation with Dietrich filtered through her mind.
How dare he be so confusing? And why hadn’t he just told her that he was Danise’s son when she first met him?
Images of how she’d acted this afternoon appeared and she grimaced. She ought to have been kinder to him. He’d caught her off guard, and after the tongue-lashing she’d received from Tabitha earlier for “lying” about how much milk Fig and Date were producing, she’d been touchy about the idea of being lied to.
