Cinderella - A Sims 3 Retelling

[Figwit]

Thanks go to my good friend, Simmerqueen, who collaborated with me on this story which was written some time ago.  She took the wonderful photos and I wrote the words.  I think we made a wicked team but I will leave that up to you to judge.  Please enjoy my retelling, sims style, of Cinderella.

Introducing Ella

The young master had come to Ella the night of the day she had turned sixteen.  How sweet he had been that night; so loving and gentle.





Her heart had soared. She loved him so much.


He wasn’t like that much anymore and that saddened her.


Some nights the boy she loved would be there and he would touch her face affectionately and tell her she was beautiful but there were other times when he was moody or distracted and she felt she mattered less than the fine leather boots that rested on the cold, bare floorboards of her room.



Those nights, she would weep softly to herself after he had gone and wish she had not had the misfortune to give her heart to a prince.

[Figwit]

The Housekeeper

Ella was collecting the clean linen one morning when Mrs Keaton, the housekeeper and the scourge of the house servants, had pulled her to one side. 

Mrs Keaton was stern and unsmiling and barely spoke to such as Ella except to sniff down her nose and point out a smudge on the railing or smear on the candlesticks. Ella’s heart had leapt to her mouth as she faced those icy blue eyes.

Mrs Keaton had grabbed her by her elbow and steered her firmly to a secluded nook at the end of the hallway.



'I have heard a disturbing rumour.’  Mrs Keaton frowned down at the nervous girl.

Ella was terrified. The girls were all leery of Mrs Keaton. She was quick to box the ears of the clumsy or lazy servant and her sharp tongue had reduced many a serving maid to tears.

She blushed to the tips of her ears but stubbornly, bravely kept her silence. She studied a spot on the floor aware of the beating of her pulse in her ears and a smell of wood polish mingled with the perfume of the freshly laundered linen in her arms. The silence of the upper floor was broken only by the muffled sounds from the courtyard drifting in through the open window at the end of the hall.



The housekeeper sighed. Ella dared to look up and was startled at the sadness and compassion in those blue eyes where she had expected to see anger and disgust.



'I pity you, Ella, for there is no joy down the road you have chosen and only heartbreak awaits you.'

 She fixed Ella with a fierce stare.

‘Sometimes even our betters, especially if they are young and self-centred, make errors of judgement.  It is up to us to be wiser and to use our common sense to protect our own interests. ’

'And,' She continued, 'Where there is no common sense to be had, then I will order it so.' 

'This will stop, Ella.  No, do not protest.  In this you will obey.'

[Brooke.]

Hello!

I love fairy tale re-tellings, great start and I hope to see more soon. Ella is gorgeous

[Figwit]

Thanks Brooke.  I hope you enjoy the rest of it.

Ella is gorgeous.  I don't remember who she was now but she played her part well. 


Agnes Keaton

Agnes removed the bunch of jangling keys from her waistband and pulled the pins from her disciplined hair.

Free now, it flowed down her back in rippling waves. She picked up a brush. Her hair used to be her best feature once, thick and glossy and streaked with gold.



She sighed deeply but her concerns were not with her hair. She had long ago accepted the fact that she was no longer young and pretty and the delight of … well never mind that. What to do about Ella?  She frowned at her reflection.

Sally

Sally ran her dusting cloth over the railings. Her eyes felt gritty and sore. She knew it was from being kept awake half the night by her roommate crying over his royal arrogance. She had to give him up.  Keaton was on her case.  Yeah, that would do it for most of them.



'How can I turn him away?' Ella had sobbed, miserable in her self-pity. 'He is my life, my happiness. '

Sally's eyes met Moll's across the bowed head of their friend.   Both were helpless in the face of such sorrow.

Poor beautiful Ella. 

Silently she thanked her lucky stars that she had been born homely and there was no danger that she would have to send his royal sleaziness off with a flea in his ear.  She would however miss the silver piece the young master often dispensed to her and Moll to shoo them off.  Handy it was, the extra money. 

[Brooke.]

I wonder if Agnes also went through something similar when she was younger, she is still lovely at her age 

[Figwit]

Ha ha, yes.  I think Agnes is definitely a woman with a past and many secrets. 

Ella and My Lady's Gown

Ella carried the heavy, tissue wrapped gown carefully up the curved staircase.

She was not normally permitted to use these stairs but this was a special circumstance. She had been charged with delivering my Lady’s ball gown to her dressing room. 

At the top of the stairs she padded down the carpeted hallway until she came to an elaborately decorated door. Balancing her load she tapped on the door and then turned the door handle to enter. 

Her breath caught in her throat. She had never seen such a magnificent room in her whole life.



The walls were decorated with bright portraits of beautiful women and paintings of flowers in elaborate vases. Silk drapes hung from the high windows. To one side was a huge mirror which reflected the rich furnishings and delicate furniture.







Carefully Ella placed the gown on a polished pale wooden table where carvings of fawns and forest animals chased each other up the curved legs. 

The quiet of the room unnerved her a little. Sunlight from the  open windows played across the floor and burnished the gold filigree on the vases and ornaments on the dresser. A statue of a scantily draped youth watched her with blind marble eyes from the corner of the room. 

Slowly she removed the tissue protecting the gown, finally exposing the frothy confection of lace and silk, ribbons and embroidery.

Ella sighed. Such a beautiful dress. Reverently she picked it up and carried it to the mirror. She held it full length in front of her and imagined herself dressed like a fine lady at the ball. 






She danced, twirling around on her toes.

‘Ella!’

Mrs Keaton was standing in the doorway. ‘What nonsense is this?’

[Brooke.]

Beautiful bedroom, I can't blame Ella for daydreaming as I'd do the same myself.

[Figwit]

Yes, it is beautiful.  My friend went to a lot of trouble staging the scenes for the photos.  I was so amazed when I saw them. 


Secret Ways

‘Beg pardon, ma'am.’ Ella was mortified.

Face burning, she carried the dress to the wardrobe and placed it on a hanger. She was very aware of those disapproving eyes of ice following her every move.

‘Foolish girl,’ Mrs Keaton scolded. ‘If my Lady had caught you, you would be out on your ear and nothing I could say would save you.’

Ella sniffed back a tear.

‘Stop dreaming, Ella.’ Mrs Keaton’s voice was softer. ‘Pretty gowns and Balls are not for such as you and I. Not normally anyway.’

Mrs Keaton’s voice faded to almost a whisper and she gazed off into the distance. 



Ella stood before her, nervously twisting her fingers unsure if she should leave as Mrs Keaton appeared to have lost interest in her.

'Come with me, Ella.' 

Ella startled as Mrs Keaton returned to the present and seemingly had come to some sort of decision. Obediently, she followed the fast walking housekeeper running to keep pace.

Down long corridors they went and up several flights of stairs. 



Ella almost collided with her as the housekeeper stopped suddenly. She looked up and down the long corridor, then, satisfied that it was deserted she pressed a panel in the wall.

'Tell no-one.' She hissed. There was a click and the wall opened like a door.

'Quickly,' she urged and she tugged Ella into the space behind the now open wall.

'This palace is riddled with secret passages,' Mrs Keaton told her as she struck a light to a candle. 'Very few know of them. The King, of course, but not many others.'

She held the candle aloft and a dim light lit a dark, musty passage. 'Follow me. Be careful because the floor is not even.'

'There are many branches from this one. Even I do not know where most of them lead.' She explained as they walked.

Ella felt cobwebs brush her face. She did not like spiders.

[Brooke.]

I hope your friend reads the comments too, I commend her work on the sets - I know it takes me at least a day to create a small scene and most of the set doesn't even make it into the screenshot.

[Figwit]

Yes, I am sure she is reading  and will be pleased at your praise. 

The Chest

'We are not here today to explore the passages though they will prove useful to our task.' Mrs Keaton said.

'We are here to retrieve something I hid many years ago.'

Ella was intrigued. Mrs Keaton was certainly proving to be much more interesting than the stuffy old spinster she and her fellow serving maids assumed. She could appreciate now how it was that the housekeeper was privy to all the goings on. How easy to slip through secret passageways to spy on the palace occupants. The woman must have a thousand secrets in her head.

At last they stopped. They had reached the end of the passage which widened out into a small room filled with boxes and other objects difficult to make out in the flickering candle light.

Mrs Keaton tugged on a small chest, partly covered by a cloth. The cloth hadn't done much to protect it because it was thick with dust.

Ella strode forward to help.

Together, they extracted the chest. Miss Keaton wiped the dust away with the cloth. It floated away in a thick cloud that tickled their nostrils. Ella stifled a sneeze.



'This belonged to Sarah of Wintersong.' The housekeeper said quietly.


'It's a long story and a sad one and maybe one day you will hear it told. Right now, we must move this chest to my room, quickly because we have been gone a while, and carefully so that we don't get caught. The passageways will help. Come, grab a handle. It is not so heavy that the two of us can't manage it.'

[Brooke.]

I can't wait to find out who Sarah is or was, Wintersong is such a lovely name.

[Figwit]

Thank you.  I liked the name too.  More about Sarah coming right up.

King Henry

Henry hardly ever thought of Sarah anymore.

Now and then a wisp of a memory would intrude into his thoughts but it evoked no more passion than the recollection of a fine meal, a glass of excellent wine or a favourite horse he had once owned.



For many years though, his every waking thought had been consumed by her. 

In the beginning it had been love.  A helpless, hopeless love. 

How his heart had quickened its beat at the sparkle in her eyes and the mischief in her dimpled smile. 

How entrancing the sweet curve of her body tightly laced into her bodice, the quirk of an eyebrow, the scent of her hair, the joyful music of her laughter. 



How he had marvelled at his big clumsy hands almost circling her tiny waist as he lifted her down from her horse. 

She, as light as fairy-dust in his arms, would smile up at him, her cheeks flushed pink from the exercise and the nearness of their contact. 

They would draw back then.  Move to put a decorous distance between themselves ever aware that their control could evaporate like mist in the sun.

But she was always slowest to move. 

How she had teased him with those lowered eyelashes. 

Poor dull Henry.  Always so honourable.

He had loved her and despaired. Later she had disgusted him.

Queen Iris

The Queen strode into her dressing room accompanied by her ladies maid, the ever-reliable Susan.

'I have no interest in this Ball.' She sighed.



'My lady will be the Belle for certain,' Susan said firmly, taking the frothy gown from the wardrobe.

'Ah Susan. Your words are sweet even if you are a terrible liar,' Laughed Iris.



'I don't think I would ever have been the Belle of the Ball even when I was young and carefree. Now the years have weighed heavily on my shoulders, and alas, my waistline.  Do you think you can cinch me in a little more? Work your magic, Susan for I need all the help I can get.'

'I could never compete with her in looks or for his affections.'  Iris mused to herself but kept her silence even in front of her most trusted maid servant.

She had carried the heartache all her married life and was not about to confess her bitterness now.



Would-be Queens don't expect to marry for love. Iris had been bartered like a prized cow for her lands and riches and the strength of an alliance with her father's court.

The winner of her hand, was Henry.  Handsome, dashing Henry with his long lean limbs and a smile that lit fires in her blood.

Charming, captivating Henry who was in love with a ward of his court, Sarah of Wintersong.

Sarah, who had no money and no lands, no claim to anything but a distant blood tie and the key to his heart.

Prince Edmund

Tonight is the Ball.

My parents are hoping I will find my future bride so they do not have to go to the trouble of finding one for me. I think they grow impatient with my indecision. I'm guessing already which likely prospects have been invited and I am not keen. I could list them on my fingers, big noses, buck teeth, pointed chins, no chins at all, dull, boring, ugly. Need I go on? We will wear masks until midnight and then I must act surprised when whoever the lucky girl is I am then dancing with reveals her lack of good fortune. I will wager  I can name each and every girl before the unmasking. I hope I don't die of boredom first.

[Brooke.]

I love Edmund's personality, however shallow he may be  Iris is stunning, the woes of a princess in an arranged marriage is always sad.

[Figwit]

Thanks Brooke.  I have a soft spot for him too.

Molly

Molly wondered where Ella could have got to.

She was supposed to be helping with the table settings but she had not seen her all afternoon.



Silly chit. If old Mrs Keaton caught her skiving off there would be hell to pay.

She liked Ella. What could there be not to like? She was pretty, but modest. She had a gentle way of talking, not rough like her and Sal and her movements were graceful and fluid. She moved like a fine lady, her footsteps light even in her sturdy work boots. 

It was a pity she was such an idiot.

The gown

Ella watched, barely breathing, as Mrs Keaton opened the chest. Inside, wrapped carefully in many layers of fine silk was a gown.



Mrs Keaton lifted it out and laid it with great reverence on her bed.

Ella could have sworn she saw tears in Mrs Keaton's eyes as she gently smoothed the creases from the fabric.

'King Henry said her possessions had to be burned.' Miss Keaton was not really talking to her. Her gaze was far away, lost in a memory of days gone by.



'He was so angry with her.  He wanted nothing of her's around to remind him or the court.'

She reached into the chest and retrieved some tiny dancing slippers, trimmed with fur. 

'I could not let him burn her things. Not everything. I hid this trunk where no-one would ever find it.'

'You disobeyed the King?' Ella was astonished.

'I was her personal maid.  I arranged her hair, laid out her clothes, was privy to many of her secrets.  My loyalties forever laid with her.  I would have left with her if she had but asked.  I would have gone to the pits of Hell with her and surely that is where she did go.  Yes, I have disobeyed and deceived and this night, through you, I will commit my most outrageous deception yet.'  Agnes' eyes flashed with fire.

'But it feels right, and so I justify it to myself.' She continued softly.

 'Tonight you will go to the ball, Ella Ashe.'

[Brooke.]

Again I say very well done with the dining room décor, the colours and patterns used show how lavish the royal castle is. I like the replacment of Ashe for Cinder  Can't wait to find out what Sarah did to get such disdain from the King.

[Figwit]

Thank you, Brooke.  I love the decor too.   

Sally

Mr James, the butler, gave his permission for any of the staff who were not engaged in serving to watch the arrival of the guests.

We had to stay hidden and quiet. Anyone who giggled or made a noise would feel his wrath. He had been quite stern about that.

So Moll and I had chosen a good vantage point on the upper floor. 

We lay on our bellies, noses pressed against the balustrades, peering down into the court room below.

We sighed over the footmen, handsome and proud in their livery and admired the finely curved muscles in their stockinged calves.

'I'll bet he has padded his,' Moll smirked pointing to one who thought too much of himself.



'Probably padded elsewhere as well.' We stifled our giggles.



We gushed over the beautiful women, expensively gowned with lavish hair and glittering jewels.

We drooled over the sight of the platters of exotic food being wheeled in through the large double doors. Aromas spicy and pungent drifted up to tease our nostrils. 

As upper servants, we had been spared the anguish of the kitchen staff, the temper tantrums, tears and raw nerves that had gone into concocting the exquisite confections.

We wondered again where Ella could have got to. Too bad that she was missing this.

We watched until the last visitor was ushered in and the main doors closed but neither Moll nor I could recall the arrival of the mystery woman who was to cause such a to do at the Ball and for weeks following.

[Brooke.]

It's interested that you switched to first person narrative for this part, I felt it made it more of a personal experience and loved the conversation between them 

[Figwit]

Thanks Brooke.  I enjoyed their conversation too.
I tend to switch all over the place.  I am sure I break all the rules of writing a story  

Ella

I couldn't believe my reflection in the mirror in Mrs Keaton's bedroom. A stunningly beautiful fairy princess gazed back at me.  I thought I would surely faint.



'I can't do it.'

My nerves had given way. 'How can I fool them all? They will see through the disguise. They will laugh at my clumsiness and ridicule my pretence.  I will trip on my gown and mix up the dance steps.  I will be disgraced and dismissed.'

Mrs Keaton looked me in the eye.

'You can take the chance on having the best time in your life or you can back out and go back to being a simple servant. Of course it is a risk.

'There is a very real chance of you being caught out but,' She paused, her eyes bright and two spots of colour in her cheeks.

'I believe, in my soul, that you can carry it off. You have a special air about you, Ella. You do not realise your difference from the others and the confidence which clings to your every move.  I would not have involved myself in this mad escapade if I doubted you for a moment.'

I drew a deep breath. I would not back out. Mrs Keaton fastened my mask in place and led me through the secret passageways.

'Remember,' She cautioned, ''Midnight means unmasking so make certain you leave before then.'

[Brooke.]

Ella is even more beautiful dressed up, looking forward to seeing her at the ball 

[Figwit]

Me too.  It's my favourite part.   

Prince Edmund

The Prince's jaw dropped when he spied the newcomer.



She stood, uncertain, a little awkwardly in the archway. Her golden hair lay in gentle waves down her long and graceful neck. 

Atop her head, a glittering tiara caught the light of a thousand candles and twinkled with red, yellow and blue brilliance. 

Stray wisps of hair framed her small, perfect face. His eyes wandered down her neck to the hollow at her throat, smooth white shoulders, tiny waist disappearing into the cloud of silk that was her gown.

Her back was straight and her head held high.



He bowed low before her.

'My lady. Would you do me the honour of the next dance?'



Queen Iris

Who is she, that girl with my son? Do I dare ask my husband?

Perhaps she is his latest dalliance, but no. She is much too young even for him and he would not want to share such a jewel with his son. 

Why is there a nagging at the back of my mind? There is something familiar. I know these feelings. I should not ignore them.



King Henry

Henry watched the happy dancers, his gaze resting on his son's beautiful partner.

The boy should really be spreading himself amongst the rest of his guests.

It was poor form to monopolize one woman all night but who could blame the lad?

Sarah.

Why did he think of her now? So long ago.

He remembered the last time he had seen her dance. Her eyes had been blazing with fire and her colour was high.

He shifted in his chair and tried to dismiss his memories. He didn't need to spoil his evening  by reminding himself of events best forgotten.

Surreptitiously, he glanced at Iris sitting as ever by his side.



She had more than vindicated his father's choice. She had proved to be an admirable Queen and support to him, intelligent, noble and just.

He doubted if the passionate, emotional Sarah would have been such an asset to the Kingdom.



Still, and he had to smile, it would have been a wild ride.

[Brooke.]

Stupid prince, how could he not recognise her? The blurred edges of the pictures are a nice touch to the dreamy and reminiscence of the characters.

[Figwit]

Yes, he obviously needs glasses 

I love the photo effects my friend used.  She did such an amazing job on the whole thing.

Ella

Everywhere Ella's senses were assailed. 

She felt as unsubstantial as the finest gossamer blowing in a summer breeze and her feet in their dancing slippers barely seemed to touch the floor. 

The jewellery of the women flashed and dazzled the eyes;


the waft from their powders and perfumes  – violets, roses, lavender – merged into a tantalizing fragrance to blend with the aroma from the platters of delicious food that the footmen snaked through the crowds;



the bright and cheery music that filled the room with rhythms making it impossible to keep her feet still; the rustle of silken gowns;



the snippets of conversation as people danced past or the sudden high peel of girlish laughter;



the men, colourful peacocks in their expensive finery bowing to her, begging her for a dance if only the Prince would relinquish her for a moment.



But his grasp on her arm was firm and there was no doubt that he would not be sharing this treasure. 

When she twirled away in a dance, he would be waiting at the end of the reel to reclaim her again, his face, so close to her, so achingly familiar despite the mask.



'Who are you?' He had begged many times.

She had smilingly shaken her head and pointed to her mask, reminding him that it was supposed to be a secret for the time being.  She didn't trust herself to speak.

Prince Edmund

Who is she this enigma, this stranger? No women I know match with her. Those lips look so delicious. I long to taste them.



Is she a gift from my parents perhaps? My father, the King, of course. That must be it. Who would have thought the old man could have such exquisite taste?

[Brooke.]

The guests are so beautifully dressed, I feel sorry for them not getting enoug attention from the prince and Ella 

[Figwit]

Yes, it was very rude of the prince but I don't think Ella minded. 

Time

TWELVE

Ella startled as if suddenly woken from a pleasant dream.



A clock had begun to chime the hour and the crowd around her were good-humouredly counting down the gongs.

ELEVEN

The unmasking at midnight.

TEN

Had time flown by so fast? She had to run.

NINE

'Excuse me, Your Highness,' She bobbed a quick curtsey, her servant's training had asserted itself in her haste to escape and, gathering her skirts, she fled from him.

EIGHT

A panic took hold of her. 

SEVEN

She wove her way through the press of people. So many people.  Surprised glances as she slipped past.

SIX

She heard the Prince's voice calling to her. Above the noise of the crowd, the chatter and the music she heard his anguished plea for her to stop, to return to him.



FIVE

'Excuse me please'.

FOUR

'Pardon.'

THREE

The door.  Thankfully it was open and no footman to question her.

TWO

At last she was through.

ONE

She ran. Her lungs felt as if they were bursting. She dashed around the corner praying there would be no-one in the hallway, no-one to witness her as she pressed the secret panel.

Her heart beat as loud as a drum. Her hands shook.

'Please.' She prayed for a little more time, just a minute longer. She was certain she could hear voices coming her way.

The doorway opened a fraction and she pulled it open just far enough to slide inside the passageway.

'Drat.'

The heel of her slipper had wedged itself in a groove along the floor.

Her foot was stuck in the gap between the panel and the hallway outside.

Hurriedly she pulled her foot from the slipper and twisting and turning managed to push it outside into the hallway.

No time to rescue it now because she could definitely hear voices.

The panel closed with a snap and she was alone in the dark with just her heaving lungs.

With shaking fingers she lit a candle and limped her way back to the housekeeper's room.

[Brooke.]

I liked your idea of her slipper getting stuck rather than her 'accidentally' losing it in a hurry.

[Figwit]

Thanks Brooke.  I wanted something different.  It didn't make sense that it would just pop off her foot when she had been dancing in it all night without losing it. 
Just a short update today as I think the next bits work better if kept together.


Agnes Keaton

Well, she got away with it. A pity about the slipper but I doubt if either of us will have the nerve to try this again.  I wonder at our foolishness but I can't keep the smile from my face.



Ah your majesty. 

I doubt you recognized the dress and remembered she who once wore it. So easily you hardened your heart against her.

Prince Edmund

He held the slipper in his hand a puzzled frown creasing his forehead and frustration and disappointment tugging down the corners of his lips.



He had pushed his mask up onto his head. He cared little for the Ball now. He ignored the curious who had followed him out of the ballroom.

It must be her's. What sort of creature was she that she could disappear into thin air?

[Brooke.]

I really want him to find her and curious as to where the story goes from here (as the evil stepmother and ugly sisters don't exist).

[Figwit]

Moll and Sal are sort of stand-ins for the 'ugly' step-sisters. 

Queen Iris



I worry about my son. He has been morose and angry since that wretched woman slipped from him at the Ball. 



She is indeed a puzzle for none can claim to have had her acquaintance. 

My staff has searched the lists of invitees and no name has sprung forth that any cannot claim to have some knowledge, no matter how tenuous.

There is no cousin of a cousin nor visiting friend nor contact who may have been added at the very last minute.   

And now, she has ceased to exist for no-one comes forth with any intelligence despite the request from the Court. 

I dare not suggest it, for Edmund will not see reason, but I aver if she wanted to be found, she would step forth. I suspect she has her reasons for her secrecy and they may or may not be revealed in time. 

Alas, Edmund is obsessed with finding this woman and will not listen to any suggestion that she may not be free for the taking. 

I fear for his health as well as his mental well-being.

King Henry



I tire of Edmund.

What is it with the boy?

He can have his pick of any young woman in the Kingdom but he throws up his hands in disgust.

He describes the sweet young things in degrading words such as would be suitable for the denizens of an ale house rather than the ears of the Palace.

I regret that he is too big now for a thumping or that it would be undignified for a King to stoop to such punishment of the heir-in-waiting, but surely my patience is tried.

And now his latest foolishness is to waste the time of his servants in carrying that slipper around the kingdom seeking the owner.

He has declared he will marry the lady whose foot it fits. I can imagine there will be many hopefuls trying to cram their dainty toes into that shoe.

My son has become a laughing stock

Sally

I don't know what has become of our friend, Ella. She is so glum and distracted these days.



I feel like tapping on her forehead and asking her to please let the real Ella come back.

She didn't even laugh when Moll brought in the boot covered with cow poop on a velvet cushion.

She was so funny. I nearly split my sides.

She waited till we were all sitting at the supper table and then in she walks all pompous with her nose in the air and tells us that whoever it fits gets to marry the stableboy. 

I could tell that even Mr James had to stop himself from laughing though he tried to look serious.

His royal daftness hasn't been around for a while. Perhaps Ella misses his attentions.

Prince Edmund

I feel I am losing my mind and if I am, then it is because the witch has sunk her claws into my heart and will not let go.



Witch? A beautiful one but surely she has cast a spell on me.

I am lost in her enchantment and nothing will break it. 

My servants laugh at me. I see their sly glances and their carefully hidden smiles. I do not care.

I will have that woman. There will be no peace in my life until I do.

I need a distraction. 

Yes, the pretty little house maid will serve as a delightful panacea for my ills.

Ah, her sweet kisses will soothe my aching heart.

[Brooke.]

She didn't even laugh when Moll brought in the boot covered with cow poop on a velvet cushion.

She was so funny. I nearly split my sides.

She waited till we were all sitting at the supper table and then in she walks all pompous with her nose in the air and tells us that whoever it fits gets to marry the stableboy.

Oh, I love this - had to laugh quietly as my sister thinks I'm mad 

[Figwit]

Aw thanks Brooke. I had fun with that bit. 

Ella had just climbed into bed when there was a soft tap at the door. Her heart skipped a beat.

She knew it would be him.

She cracked open the door quietly so not to wake her sleeping room-mates.

Edmund stood in the doorway, his blonde hair shimmering gold in the candlelight. His eyes were dark pits in a face grown pale.

He reached for her, pulling her to him.

'Ella.' His voice was hoarse and he held her to him in a tight embrace.

Her knees weakened and she melted against him.  Soft words tumbled from his lips, sweet as nectar and soothing as honey. 

She sighed.  How tempting to lose herself in his arms so warm and strong and utterly precious to her. 



Her prince, her Edmund who had been so entranced by her at the Ball.

But she must keep her word to Miss Keaton.

Reluctantly, she turned her face so that his kiss grazed her ear.

'Sir, you must go.  I am forbidden...” She stepped back away from him.

'Who forbids you?' The prince pulled her back to him more roughly than before. 'Tell me and I will have them whipped.'

His tone was jovial but his grasp on her arm was firm and his fingers dug into her skin. 

His temper was rising.  He was a prince.  He was not to be thwarted. 

Ella squared her shoulders.  Mrs Keaton's face flashed before her.  Yes, this is what she had ordered but, more than that, she knew she must own this decision herself. 

'It is my wish, sir.'  How charming he had been when he supposed she was someone else. She rubbed at her arm where his hand had been. 

He would not have bruised her skin with his angry grip when he thought her a fine lady. 

Gently but firmly she raised her hands to his chest and pushed him back.



'No, my lord.' She looked him in the eye, gathering her willpower and her courage. 'You must  go.'

His face fell.  For a moment she thought she saw true regret but then his mouth curled in a scornful sneer and his brow grew dark.

He grabbed for her again. 'Do not play such games, Ella. I am not to be trifled with.'



His voice had risen. In the room behind, Ella heard her room mates yawn loudly making it obvious that they were awake and aware.

'Ella?  Is that you?'  Moll was padding across the floor, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

At her shoulder, Sal clutched a coat to her chest to modestly hide her thin slip.  So disingenuous their act.  Ella loved them for their loyalty but they fooled no one.

'Oh, beg pardon Your Highness,' Moll bobbed a curtsey, a ridiculous sight in her slip.

The Prince's eyes flashed. His nerves were raw with frustration and hurt.  This night was fast turning sour and now the idiot companions were awake. 

With a savage snarl, he pushed Ella away more roughly than he intended but his rising temper lent strength to his actions.



She was caught off balance and stumbled.

She grabbed hold of her dresser for support, dislodging her neatly folded apron and the thing it was hiding. The dancing slipper, the memento of her night at the Ball, fell to the floor.

It was a tiny thing; insignificant in its size, colour and weight; the room was gloomy with only a weak candle to light the shadows; yet all saw the slipper.

The silence hung heavy on the air as four collective breaths were drawn.

[Gwendy]

Well, looks like Ella just bought herself one million years dungeon. Nothing involving this situation can be good, or end well.

[Brooke.]

Edmund!  I'd lock him in a dungeon instead.

[Figwit]

   Thanks Gwendy and Brooke. 


The Prince was the first to move. He pounced on the slipper and held it aloft.

'This is the match of the one I have.  The one she left behind.  But how is it that you have it?'

'And why do you keep it hidden when you must know that I seek it – this slipper and she who wore it?'

Edmund's puzzled gaze swept the room.  Two girls, touselled hair and gaping mouths stared back at him, dull and stupid and unknowing. 

The flickering candlelight reflected in their wide open eyes turning them to startled buttons in sleepy faces. 

The other though, she looked away.  He saw the tremble in her shoulders and the nervous twisting of her fingers and a horrible truth dawned.

He recalled then the alluring lips of his mystery partner and suddenly knew why they had attracted him so.

Molly and Sally exchanged puzzled glances. Both shrugged their shoulders. They had no idea what was going on but they could feel the approaching storm gathering its strength.

'You.' At last the Prince spoke and his voice cracked with fury.



'What manner of trickery, what magical deceit, what witchery did you employ?'

'This outrage is not to be borne.'

Ella looked up then.  Her face pale, eyes imploring but hopeless.



'Sir I..."

In anger he threw the slipper across the room where it bounced off the wall with force enough to dislodge the heel.



'Keep it, My perfidious lady.' He bowed mockingly.

'The feel of the thing is as repulsive to me as your presence.'

And then he was gone.  His angry footfalls loud on the bare boards of the hall leading from their room.

Ella collapsed in tears.  Anger, she had expected, but never in her darkest nightmares had she pictured the profound disappointment she had just seen on his face.

[Brooke.]

He doesn't deserve her, I really want Ella to find someone worthy of her 

[Figwit]

He is a total jerk.

Molly

Who would have thought there could be so much water in such a small body?

Ella has wept her way through every kerchief Sal and I own while she told us of how she had dressed herself up all posh and proper and passed herself off as a fine lady at the Ball.

We were just gobsmacked. Our own Ella was the mystery lady and it's her they have all been hunting up hill and down dale.  Caused a right royal ruckus, she has.  What a laugh.   

The palace is abuzz with the news because naturally, Sal and I did our share of spreading it.



It is the best tale any of us have heard in a long time. The revenge of the servant classes, that's what it is, with Ella as our champion.

Course we are worried too even though we laugh.  The toffs aren't going to like this and we know that Ella is in for it. 

She's been locked up with Keaton all morning.  No doubt Keaton is tearing strips off her before telling her to pack her bags.

Tis a shame. We will miss our Ella.

King Henry

Henry frowned at the distressed young woman in front of him.

This was a highly unusual case. It was not often that a house servant would be brought to judgement before the King and Queen.

This case, however, had brought a good deal of embarrassment to the Court.  She had taken them all in.

Every guest at the Ball had unknowingly brushed shoulders with a mere servant girl believing her to be of their own social standing and then there was the foolery of his son in chasing around after her.

He could not sweep this under the carpet or all his servants would be trying it on.

All the same, this was a private affair. Just him, his wife, his son, and his adviser. 



They would hear her story and then decide on what action to take.

Pretty young thing, he decided with regret. He did not like seeing a woman in tears and he liked being the cause even less. 

'Well?' He, focussed on a spot above the girl's bowed head, 'You have some explaining to do.'
 
Ella drew breath but before she could utter a word, the king held up a hand for silence.  A servant had entered the room and approached his chair.

[Brooke.]

Uh - oh, there's a storm coming!

[Figwit]

Or a story. 

Ella

I wish this was over, drat this delay. 

The King looks very angry but it is nothing compared to the fury I see on the Princes' face. He will never forgive me for making a fool of him and my heart is broken. 

So vain I was. So proud to be a fine lady.  I might have known no good could come of it.  I wish I could take it all back. Tears stay away. 



Mrs Keaton told me to trust her and that she would put it right but I do not see how. 

I was foolish to hang onto that shoe as a keepsake. If only I had dropped it in the privy, that would have been an end to it.

Why does the King continue to whisper to his servant? Does he bid him to ask the executioner to sharpen his axe?

Ah, Mrs Keaton is here. 



The servant has brought her in.  She smiles at me.  Does she hope to reassure me but I see the tenseness in her demeanour. 

She is nervous herself. Mrs Keaton afraid?  Who would have imagined?

'Keaton. I believe you have something to add to this matter.'

The King's attention had turned to his housekeeper.

Agnes curtseyed to the Royals then took her place next to the trembling Ella.

Her back was straight and her hair, as usual, was pulled tightly back into a neat bun.



She took a deep breath, to steady her nerves, and began.

'I do indeed, your Majesties. I am here to beg your mercy for this child for she was but a pawn in my hands.  It was I who encouraged her, I who procured the clothes and dressed her for the Ball. It was all my idea and so, if you wish to blame anyone, then it is I.'

Ella gasped.  No.  She did not want Mrs Keaton to take the blame. Now both would sink when one would have done.

'But why?' The Queen asked.

'This tale grows strange indeed. A servant of this palace is bold enough to pass herself off as an invited guest at my son's Ball and now we learn she was not only aided in her deceit by you, my trusted housekeeper, but you were the instigator of this foolery.'

She sighed deeply.  'This is most unusual behaviour, Keaton, and I am finding it difficult to comprehend.'

[Brooke.]

Doesn't King Henry look like an older Joffrey in that outfit? I think Keaton will be reminding the King of a certain someone 

[Figwit]

Yes, he does.     I think you have guessed what is about to be revealed and thanks for not giving it away. 


Agnes, however, addressed herself to the King.



'Look at her closely, your Majesty.' She turned her head to Ella. 

'Does she not remind you of someone?'

'A King does not play such guessing games.' King Henry grumbled but curiosity got the better of him and he raised himself from his chair and walked slowly towards Ella.

He lifted her chin with his fingers and looked closely into her eyes.

They were red and swollen from weeping but, yes, that same shade of blue, the jaw-line softer, but there was a likeness.



'Sarah?' His voice was barely a whisper.

'Her daughter.' Agnes answered. 'The child she bore alone after she fled from the cruelty of Baron Whitesnow.

'Sarah was my mother?' Ella felt the blood drain from her face and the room tilted to one side.  She grasped Miss Keaton's arm to steady herself. 

Agnes nodded.  'I dressed you in her clothes and you took your place at the Ball as befitting your blood. For one night, you were granted the chance to enjoy your heritage.'

The Prince glowered at them from across the room.

'How can this be?' The King interrupted, his face turning a fine shade of purple.

'Sarah's daughter?  A servant in my home beneath my very nose.  What insolence is this?'

The queen rested a placating hand on her husband's arm.

'There is a story to be told here, my dear.  Come, sit yourself again and let us hear it through before we upset ourselves.'

Agnes cleared her throat.  Her neck, above her high collar, was blotched red but her voice was steady.

'Sarah came to the palace one night.  She sought me out as her former servant.  She was bruised and afraid and disguised as a beggar woman.'



'Disguises run in the family it seems.' Mocked the Prince but he was quietened by a glare from his father.

'She had endured what she could, for Lady Sarah was proud and stubborn, but she could tolerate no more.' Agnes continued.

'The charm that the Baron had used to win her love was a thin veil indeed and he too soon revealed his true colours.'



'Now there's a surprise,' The Prince muttered.

[Brooke.]

What a reveal! Poor Sarah, I had assumed she'd just died from some mysterious medieval disease but it was the cruelty of a stupid man  Another reference to your other story, I adore those 

[Figwit]

Thanks Brooke.  Sorry, not many pictures for this next bit.  I changed it from the original (but I think it is better now) so my friend did not have the chance to supply me with photos.

PS.  I have just found out that housekeepers (and cooks) had the honorary title of Mrs so Miss Keaton should have been Mrs Keaton (whether or not she was married).  So I have changed Miss to Mrs (and probably missed a few).  I am guessing there are many mistakes I have made in this story but that is one less for now. 


You brought her to me, a private meeting,' The King unexpectedly took up the story.

'She thought I would help her, overlook her indiscretions, take her back.' He sighed, and a bitterness crept into his tone. 

'Ever it was she supposed I would be her fool.'

The King's knuckles whitened as he angrily clenched his fists.



'I was glad she suffered.  She had brought insult and disgrace to this House and I could not forgive her.  I bid her get from my House and accept the consequences of her deeds.  I cared not where she went or if she got there.  I gave no thought to it then and very little since.'
 
'But,' he growled, 'How does this relate to her daughter living and breathing under my roof with everyone, except presumably you, Keaton, unaware of her identity?'

Mrs Keaton squared her shoulders, 'She did not tell you, your Majesty, and she begged me to keep it secret from you, but my Lady Sarah was with child when she ran from the Baron.
It was for the sake of the child that she fled.  She did not want the baby to fall within his grasp nor to be raised in his corrupt and decadent household.'

The King stared moodily off into the distance.  The silence grew.  Iris leaned across to pat his arm.

'The past is behind us, my love.  There are many unkindnesses we would undo if we could. Let us not dwell on the choices made then, but instead let it shape our justice this day.'

'For it seems,' The Queen continued, 'That Sarah found a loyal friend in Keaton.  Pray continue, if you please.'

Agnes drew breath.  'Yes, I helped her but so did many others.  Lady Sarah was well-loved for she had grown from girlhood in this Court and she had always been kind.  We hid her that night in the servants' quarters and the next day found a family on the outskirts of the village who took her in.  She stayed there until the babe was born.'

Agnes turned to Ella.  'She was ill, weak and I believe, her heart was broken.' She cast a sly glance at the King who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

'Our village friends did what they could but she did not last long beyond the birth of you, her child.  She bid me to watch out for you, Ella, to protect you and keep you hidden and so I did. When you were of age, I brought you to the castle and here you have stayed, ignorant of your roots, but safe and well.'

'Poor child.' The queen patted Ella's face.  'To find and lose a mother in the space of one morning must be hard to bear, but fortunate you were in the kindnesses of strangers.  However, we have now a problem that needs to be addressed.'

'As we have learned, the blood in your veins runs noble and, although Keaton's care and facility has produced a healthy and strong young woman, your place I deem is not with the servants.'  She glanced at her husband for confirmation and he nodded. 

'So what are we to do?'

[Brooke.]

I'm surprised by the Queen's kindness, it makes me think if she has an ulterior motive.

[Figwit]

  I thought of that too and, although I don't explore it in this story, I think she might have had some hand in getting rid of her rival.  Perhaps the king is not the only one with the bad conscience.


'What nonsense is this?'
 
Prince Edmund had become increasingly agitated throughout the narrative and now he leapt to his feet.



'Sarah's child you say?  And who was she but a penniless chit who repaid the advantages of your care and consequence by throwing herself at a scoundrel.'

'Edmund, you will not talk of Sarah that way.'  The king spluttered.  'I loved her like...a sister.'



'Right,' Edmund rolled his eyes.

'And that drunken wastrel, Whitesnow, is the father.  Why should we care?  He has long gambled away his power and lands and all but the most useless of his servants have left him.  He hangs onto his title by the skin of his teeth while all around laugh behind his sorry back.  Send her to him and let him add her to his family tree but I will wager he would rather her as a servant than another by-blow to add to his collection. '

He tipped his head back and laughed, a cruel derisive sound which echoed hollowly off the walls. 

'She is not our problem and never should have been.  Her fool of a mother saw to that.  You were wise to turn that leech from your door and so you should follow suit with this deceitful, ill-begotten creature.'



Ella's eyes stung from the unshed tears.  Death would have been preferable to this public rending by the man she thought she loved.

'Edmund.  You will be quiet.'  The King thundered. He slammed his fist on the table.

A pot of ink toppled and rolled onto the floor, splashing its dark liquid contents onto the boards. All ignored it.

'You have listened with your head but not your heart, my son.'  Queen Iris's voice was quiet, calming. 



'A great wrong was done in this house many years ago. A young woman, headstrong but naďve gave her heart to a man unworthy of her love. Foolish, yes, but who is not guilty of foolish actions when they are young?' She fixed her eye on her son who glared back defiantly.



'My husband,' the Queen continued. 'I believe this is our chance to right that wrong. This young girl's mother made a mistake that cost her your love and protection.’ Her voice grew soft. ‘She paid for her misdeed ultimately with her life.’

‘This lovely young woman, who, although raised as a servant and believing herself to belong to that class, effectively fooled the whole assembly at the Ball, servants, guests, and hosts, into accepting her as one of their own. 

'Such boldness and daring could bring a healthy dose of intelligence, beauty and courage to our bloodlines,' the Queen paused and smiled ruefully,

'To say nothing of a superb talent for acting.'

The Princes' face turned white.

'Mother.' He cried. 'Are you suggesting I marry this pitiable creature?  This is preposterous.' 

Ella’s face flushed red and hot tears, finally freed, rolled down her cheek.

'No. You will not marry this girl.' The King rumbled. 'Not now anyway. Maybe, when you have proved you deserve her she might consider you for a husband. I fear, my son, that I have spoiled and pampered you and sadly, you have inherited the callousness I had as a youth. I believe a dose of humility might make a better man of you.'

'I suggest you wear your strongest boots and your oldest clothes tomorrow for you are to live a very different life for a while.'

[Brooke.]

Oh, Edmund is not going to enjoy the coming days 

[Figwit]

No, and serves him right too. 


Agnes Keaton

Well, all is well that ends well it is said. I am much pleased to say that Ella was adopted as a ward by the King and Queen.

I am unsure how much was genuine kindness and how much was a distraction from the embarrassment of the entire court being made look foolish by one from the lower orders.

The subterfuge didn't seem so bad now that she could be claimed as the new discovered daughter of the King's third cousin.

Sarah would be happy with the result, I am sure, though I wonder if Ella’s new life is to be envied or regretted.  Only time will tell this.

The Prince. Well the Prince was ordered to assist the stable boy for half a year.

The King thought it would be a good opportunity for him to experience life as a servant and therefore broaden his character.

I believe it has worked. The Prince seems a calmer, kinder young man these days.  I have hopes that he has inherited the good sense and compassion of his mother's line to temper the arrogance and vanity he has oft times displayed.

As for Ella, well she is the proper young lady now.

She is still the same lovely, smiling girl she ever was and it is no trouble for her to drop in to see her old work friends when she has a moment or two to spare.



She promoted both Sally and Molly to be her personal maids though I doubt that hopeless pair could be much use to anyone.

Still, they are loyal to her and that is the most important attribute of a good servant.

Ella

Fairy tales can come true and I am living proof.



My life has been very different this past year. I no longer rise at dawn to clean the fireplaces and scrub the floors. I have my own servants to do that now.

When I open my wardrobe I find it is brimming with fine gowns of silk and lace and soft velvet.

I no longer wear sturdy work boots which squeeze my toes and rub my heels tender. Instead my feet are encased in dainty slippers as soft as down with sparkling buckles and pretty bows. 



A servant, Sally or Molly, brushes my hair at night and turns down my bed and sees to it that my clothes are laid out for the next day.



I attend dinner parties and flutter my eyelashes at silly old men and silly young ones and I laugh softly at their jokes.

It delights me that I can charm them so easily. 



The Prince is different now.  Perhaps all those months of mucking out the stables helped to humble him but I believe he just needed the time to grow up.

At first he was resentful of my acceptance into the Court. It took him many weeks to treat me with anything but disdain but, little by little, the ice between us has melted and slowly we are building a true friendship. 

We spend a lot of our days together laughing or talking but never more than that.



I am a lady now and will not disgrace my position nor the trust of the King and Queen and he respects that.

Sometimes, I see the raw desire in his eyes but then the shutters come down and we both quickly talk of other things. 



Has he forgiven me? I do not know.

I think it will take longer than a year to heal the wound to his pride but we are both young and time is on our side.

Have I forgiven him? That I cannot answer either. 

Easier to ask myself if I could trust him with my heart and that answer is simple.

My heart made its own choice the night of the day I turned sixteen.

The End

Thanks to all my readers but a very special thank you to the amazing Brooke who never missed a day.  Thank you Brooke.  I looked forward to your comments and think I would have gone into a depression if you missed a day     Take care and I hope to meet you again on the forum here.

[Brooke.]

Aw.. You have a way of making Edmund be such a spiteful character and then in the end I'm not hurling abuse at him - all that horse manure was punishment enough  I'm glad Ella made her two friends lives a little better too, not just her own. I can easily see Ella and Edmund getting together in the future in a much better relationship than they started with. It's always a pleasure to read your stories, hope you'll let me know when you post a new one 

[Saltypaws]

I am really bad at reading and not posting, but I had read and kept up with this and snow white. Very good writing and will be looking forward to more stories.

[Figwit]

No problem Saltypaws.  I am glad you liked it.

Brooke, I would have loved to have punished Edmund a lot more but I didn't think it would be realistic.  He is a prince and above the law, so to speak.  

[Nutella]

I'm moving this to the Stories Graveyard due to inactivity.  @Figwit - you can revive this story by contacting a moderator.

Original Storyboard:  Sims 3 Miscellaneous Stories