A Different Cinderella

“Girls! Girls!”

Elliot dropped the fire poker and rushed into the foyer. “What happened? What’s wrong?” he asked, looking for what had made Stepmother shout.

The woman grinned as her daughters appeared at the second floor railing. “What is it, Mother?” Marigold asked.

Stepmother waved a piece of thick parchment up at the girls. “The Queen has announced a Marriage Ball for Prince Caelen and Princess Thea. All eligible men and women are to attend. This could be your chance to capture the prince’s attention.”

Lottie’s smile wavered. “Oh.” She forced herself to look happy when her mother looked sharply in her direction. “I can’t wait.”

Marigold’s smirked. “We’ll need new dresses, Mother.”

“Of course, my sweet. Ones that will leave the prince breathless. Elliot, go into town and tell Mrs. Webber to make only the very best dresses for my girls.”

“But you just received new dresses.”

Stepmother scoffed. “Those things are hardly appropriate for royalty. Your sisters should be resplendent.”

“Mrs. Webber will probably be receiving dress orders from the other families. She-”

“Then you will make sure that our order is at the top of the list.” Stepmother sighed in exasperation. “Honestly, can’t you figure this out yourself? Don’t you want your sisters to catch the Prince’s attention? Don’t they deserve to marry royalty?”

“O-of course,” he stammered under her steely gaze. “I only meant-”

“Meant to sabotage your sisters.” Stepmother’s lip quivered and she turned away, raising a hand to her forehead. “You don’t care about this family at all, do you? Oh, what would your father say?”

With sinking heart, Elliot sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Stepmother turned with a smile, no sign of tears in her eyes. “Oh, what a good boy you are.” She turned to her daughters, clapping her hands. “Now, girls. We must make preparations. We only have a month to make you perfect.” She hurried up the stairs, leaving Elliot in the foyer as she ushered the girls back into their rooms.

He spared the parlor fireplace a glance. He’d been cleaning it before Stepmother’s outburst, just another chore on an ever-growing list. The trip into town was going to cut in on his work but he’d rather Stepmother be upset about a dirty fireplace than an unplaced dress order. If he ran out now, he could be back in time to get at least half the list finished by nightfall. He pulled on his coat and hurried into town without a second thought.

He had to stop outside the dress shop to catch his breath from the run. Once he wasn’t panting so hard, he pushed the door open with a slight smile for the older woman. It wasn’t Mrs. Webber standing behind the counter, however, but one of her newer assistants; a young girl with curls tucked under a linen handkerchief to keep them out of her face. He gave her a friendly smile, hoping he hadn’t frightened her with his ruffled appearance.

“Good morning,” he said.

“G…good morning, sir,” the girl squeaked.

“I was hoping I could speak with Mrs. Webber. Is she available?”

“M-Mrs. Webber was called to the palace this morning. She t-took Freda with her.”

“The palace?” Elliot ran a hand over his face and sighed. There was no telling how long Mrs. Webber would be away and he couldn’t wait for her return. There were too many chores he had to complete back at the house. Stepmother was not going to be happy about this. He looked at the girl, who was watching him as if waiting for him to start yelling. He forced his face to relax into an understanding smile. This was probably the first time she’d been alone with the shop and his tense body language wasn’t helping her nerves. “What’s your name?”

“M-Mary, sir.”

“Hello, Mary. I’m Elliot McKinley. Would you mind doing something for me?” She nodded slowly, her shoulders relaxing slightly at his calm tone. “Could you let Mrs. Webber know that my stepmother, Mrs. Platt, would like to make an appointment for new gowns for my stepsisters?” Mary nodded. “Thank you. You’ve really helped me out today. Have a good day.” He left with a wave, which Mary returned with added gusto. At least he had made someone happy today.

§∞§

Freda shifted from one foot to the other as she and Mrs. Webber waited for the princess to join them. They’d been ushered into Madam Vivian’s workroom not a moment after they’d arrived at the palace. The other tailors and seamstresses cast quick glances their way, but were kept busy with their own work for the most part. Freda tried to be casual about it, but her eyes were darting over everything; the work stations, the stacks of fabric far more elaborate that anything she had ever worked on, and just the sheer impressive amount of work being done on clothing that seemed to range from livery uniforms to- was that a gown for the Queen?

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Mrs. Webber said, chuckling as Freda jumped slightly.

“It’s much bigger than the shop back home.” Freda blushed. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it, of course.”

The older woman looked over room with a slight smile. “Vivian always did like big open spaces. She said it helped her work if she wasn’t surrounded by clutter.”

Freda turned to her mentor. She’d been curious about the connection between Mrs. Webber and Madam Vivian since the royal messenger had appeared at their door that morning. “How exactly do you know the Royal Seamstress?”

Mrs. Webber smiled softly. “We were apprenticed to the same seamstress in our youth. We were ambitious girls who were always trying to learn everything we could about our craft.” She looked down at Freda. “Very much like you, my girl.”

“How did you…well, you know?”

“How did I end up being an ordinary business woman and Vivian the Royal Seamstress?” Freda nodded, glad she hadn’t insulted her mistress with the question, but she was learning so many new things about her mentor today. “Vivian studied the patterns of the kingdom’s fashion, and not just ours but the surrounding ones. She studied extensively to know every kingdom we had trade with and for what. She annoyed more than a few merchants with her constant questioning and knowledge of trade.”

“And she worked her way up to Royal Seamstress because of that?” Mrs. Webber nodded. “What did you do?”

“Well, my dear, I married Mr. Webber, the one merchant Vivian could never fluster.” Mrs. Webber’s boisterous laughter bounced off the walls, the sound making a few assistant jump and turn. Freda couldn’t help but giggle along with her mistress.

The main doors to the room opened and everyone turned, dropping into a respectful bow or curtsy as Princess Thea strolled in. She nodded slightly to everyone before looking around and spotting Mrs. Webber and Freda. The princess made her way over, every step even and controlled with poise only a royal could master.

“You must be Mrs. Webber. I’m so sorry I kept you waiting, but there was a matter that required my attention. I’m so glad you could come on such short notice.” Freda was awed by the gentle soothing air of the princess’ voice, so different from the boisterous and passionate tones of the village. It was probably part of the royal upbringing and training, but was nonetheless impressive.

“It was no trouble, Your Majesty.” Mrs. Webber looked up from her curtsy and asked, “Would you mind if I straightened? My knees are not what they used to be.”

Princess Thea chuckled slightly and nodded. “Please. I would hate for you to be uncomfortable.” Everyone in the room rose and went back to their work at the command. Freda straightened and took in the rest of the princess.

Her dark brown locks were arranged in an elegant bun with a few braided strands woven in a way that made it appear as if they were keeping the rest of her hair contained. She was dressed in a pale blue day dress with pinched shoulders, a high neck, and snug fit around her thin waist. Freda had been expecting something a bit grander but she found herself smiling as the princess turned her bright blue eyes in her direction.

“May I present my assistant, Freda Gail,” Mrs. Webber said.

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Gail,” Princess Thea said, nodding her head slightly.

Freda bobbed a curtsy. “It’s very nice to meet you, Your Highness.”

The princess returned her attention to Mrs. Webber. “I have it on the best authority that you are as skilled as Madam Vivian and I find myself in a bit of a dilemma. You see, Mrs. Webber, with Madam Vivian away, I am in need of someone who can help me design and create a new gown for the upcoming ball. Is this something that you might be able to help me with?”

“I’m very flattered for the compliment, Your Highness. It does my heart good to know that people think so highly of me. I would be honored to do your dress.”

“Excellent. Would it be possible to start now?”

“Of course, Your Highness. There is just one thing.”

Princess Thea blinked. “Oh?”

“Unfortunately, my hands and eyes are not as they used to be. Would you mind if Freda were to do most of the hands on work? She’s ever so talented.”

Freda blushed under the praise, but blushed even more when the princess turned to her. “Do you feel that you are up to the task, Miss Gail? I would not ask anything that you could not reasonably do.”

Freda straightened her shoulders, her pride rising up a bit at the challenge, and nodded firmly. “I’ve been training under Mrs. Webber for nearly 12 years. I can do anything you like, Your Highness.”

The princess grinned. “I like the confidence. Very well. Shall we start with the design?” She gestured to a desk near the large windows; the only desk that didn’t hold some sort of fabric or project over its wide surface. The other workers left the desk alone, moving around it as if an unseen barrier protected it.

Princess Thea motioned to a few assistants to bring over two extra chairs and waited for Mrs. Webber and Freda to be seated before sinking into the bigger chair behind the desk. She turned to the women once she comfortable. “I was thinking of making the gown a soft shade of green. Maybe a few less skirts than I usually have to wear, as well. I am led to believe that I will be on my feet for most of the night and do not wish to be weighted down by unnecessary bulk.”

“Are you planning on dancing for most of the ball, Your Majesty?” Mrs. Webber asked as Freda drew out some loose parchment and a drawing stick from her side bag.

“I believe so. At the very least, I will have to mingle with the delegates and dignitaries.”

Mrs. Webber nodded. “So, something elegant and appropriate for the ball, light enough to not wear yourself down when dancing or mingling, and you would like it to be in green.”

Freda stared into her bag for a moment, a thought crossing her mind. She sent the other women a quick look before reaching into her bag and pulling out a piece of parchment that looked to have been folded and handled many times. She smoothed it out and reconsidered for a fleeting moment before sitting taller in her chair.

“If it would please you, Your Highness, would this design be to your liking?” Freda turned the parchment and placed it on the table.

The princess looked over the design and slowly smiled. “I do believe this will do very nicely.” She met Freda’s gaze. “I would like this dress to be made, if you please.”

“Oh, thank you,” Freda blurted out before she could stop herself. At the princess’s questioning gaze, Freda blushed and explained. “I have been designing this for some time. I’m glad you like it.”

Princess Thea nodded in understanding. “You have a wonderful eye. I would be proud to wear your design if Mrs. Webber has no objection.”

Mrs. Webber chuckled. “Oh, goodness, no. It’s Your Highness who will have to wear the dress, whether it is my design or Freda’s. I’m only here to help where I can.”

The princess chuckled with the older woman and turned to Freda, who couldn’t help but smile back with excitement. “Then it is settled. This will be my dress.”

“You’ve settled on a design already, sister?”

Freda turned in her seat and watched as one of the most striking men she’d ever seen walked across the workroom with an ease that could only come from pure confidence. He wore a double-buttoned tunic with riding pants and boots polished to a shine. His black hair was combed away from his face, slicked back into place with some sort of lotion. People stopped their work and bowed as he passed. This had to be the prince. Freda hurried to her feet and gave a curtsy as he drew closer to their table. Mrs. Webber, unable to get to her feet so quickly, managed a respectful bow of her head, which the prince acknowledged with one of his own.

His brown eyes passed over Freda for a moment. She felt a shiver run up her spine at the attention, but pushed that aside as he leaned down to kiss his sister’s cheek in greeting. She had to focus and keep her wits about her. Ogling the prince was not the best idea when she was supposed to be working on his sister’s dress.

The princess smiled and held up the sketch. “Miss Gail has suggested a design I find very becoming. What do you think of it?”

The prince took the parchment and studied it. Freda’s stomach knotted slightly as she waited for his feedback. She’d heard that the prince was knowledgeable in his own right when it came to fashion. After a few moments, he looked up and met her gaze. The shiver returned to her spine.

“Where did you draw your inspiration?” he asked.

“From the Lendon kingdom,” Freda said, pleased that she hadn’t stumbled over her words. “I had seen their use of designs to draw attention to and from certain areas. I simply applied some of it to one of the popular fashion pamphlets my town received from the capitol.”

Prince Caelen returned his attention to the sketch. Princess Thea watched him with amused interest. The silence stretched for a while longer, pulling at Freda’s nerves. What was he thinking? Did he like it? Did he hate it? She had to bite the inside of her cheek or she would have demanded him give his opinions on her design right then and there. That would hardly be appropriate for someone of her station, but how long did he intend to make her wait?

“No.”

Freda blinked before frowning. “What?” The prince looked up, a challenging eyebrow raised at her tone. “Your Highness,” she added quickly.

“This design is too busy. The concept might have been fair if the design of the dress didn’t contradict what you were trying to do.” He set the parchment down, his gaze never leaving hers. “I suggest you choose a different design.”

“And I would suggest, Your Highness,” she said, her jaw tensing slightly as she tried to keep her emotions in check, “that you wait to see it completed and the princess wearing it before you make your decision.”

“I would not allow my sister to wear something so unflattering.”

“I believe the princess would look very fetching in this design, Your Highness. It works with Her Highness’s figure and can only enhanced her beauty.”

“Are you saying that as the dress’ creator or as an experienced seamstress?”

“As both, Your Highness.”

“And as an experienced seamstress, do you disregard another’s view on your dress?” Prince Caelen leveled one of his more serious and regal looks at her, but she was unfazed. She was right on this design; she knew she was.

“As an experienced seamstress, Your Highness, I recognize your words as your opinion and will remember them, but will not change my design. Doing so will only make the dress a self prophesized failure.”

She watched as the prince frowned, a bit of color growing in his cheeks. For a moment, Freda thought she’d crossed a line. She was used to being tough with customers on design choices, always trying to keep their best interests in mind when making their clothes, but to oppose royalty was practically a death sentence. Would he throw her in the stocks because she didn’t agree with him?

The tension was broken by a soft chuckled that slowly grew into giggles and then full laughter. The two turned to Princess Thea, who pressed a hand to her stomach as she laughed at them. The other workers, who had stopped to watch the confrontation between Freda and Prince Caelen, could only stare as their princess tried to control her laughter.

“Thea?” the prince asked as his sister returned to a series of amused giggles.

“Your Highness?” Had she broken the princess? Freda looked at Mrs. Webber for some sort of guidance, but found her watching everything with an entertained smile. Freda turned back to the princess, who was staring at her with amusement.

“You have such faith,” the princess said. “You truly believe that this dress will be as good as you claim.”

Freda straightened her back. She would stand by her design. She couldn’t back away after everything that had happened. “I do, Your Highness.”

Princess Thea stood, pushing her chair out of the way. Prince Caelen stepped away to allow her to come around the table. Freda couldn’t believe the amount of focus princess was giving her, but she didn’t dare look away. “Then make the dress.”

“Thea,” Prince Caelen objected, but she simply turned to face him.

“I believe that Miss Gail knows what she is doing and I am willing to give her a chance to prove herself. If I approve of the dress, I shall wear it to the ball. If it falls short, then I will simply wear a different dress already in my wardrobe.” Princess Thea turned back to address Freda. “You can receive my measurements from one of the assistants. I would like to try on my dress no later than the morning of the ball in one month’s time.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Then I wish you a good day, Miss Gail, Mrs. Webber. It was a pleasure meeting you.” A small twinkle appeared in her eye before she turned to her brother and took his arm, forcing him to escort her out. He did so, but not before shooting one last hard look at Freda, who simply raised her chin in challenge. She wasn’t going to let him have the upper hand in this little war of theirs. It didn’t matter if he was a prince or not; he’d insulted her design and challenged her abilities. No way was she holding back.

Mrs. Webber chuckled once the royals were gone, slowly climbing to her feet. “That was quite entertaining, my girl,” she said as she returned their things to their bag. “Not many would dare challenge the prince in such a way.”

“He may be a prince, but he was entirely rude.” Freda took the bag from her mistress and slipped it over her shoulder. “He called my design unflattering.”

“He was giving criticism, dear.” Mrs. Webber smiled her thanks to the young man who handed her a parchment with the princess’ measurement and a few notes about color choices.

“He was just trying to browbeat me into submission.” Freda huffed as they left the room. They continued down the corridor, Mrs. Webber allowing her assistant to mumble under her breath as they left the palace. “Did he really think that glare was going to work on me?” Freda said as they climbed into the royal carriage that had brought them to the palace that morning. “I’ve seen fiercer looks from a half-drowned cat.”

The carriage rolled away from the palace and toward their little town. Freda knew that she was behaving less than proper, but she couldn’t help it. Prince Caelen might be handsome and muscular, but his attitude needed some work. A bit of humility would be good for him. A grin spread across her lips at the thought. Yes, she’d make Princess Thea a dress so stunning that he’d have to admit he was wrong. It would do him some good to be taken down a peg or two.

Mrs. Webber watched the young woman across from her with a slight gleam in her eye. She had been concerned that Freda might be nervous or uneasy with being summoned to the palace for the first time. There had been a few assistants in Mrs. Webber’s time that had been so shaken that they’d dropped things or embarrassed themselves in front of just the royal messengers. But Freda had overcome her nerves to even suggest her own design. Mrs. Webber was proud of her pupil’s confidence; it was a trait that every good seamstress needed, along with conviction. Both she and the princess had seen that after the confrontation with the prince. Freda could be brash at times but she did her best work when she had something to prove. She was very much like Vivian in that regard.

The carriage pulled up to the dress shop half an hour later. After helping the ladies down and giving a quick tip of the hat goodbye, the driver started the trip back to the palace. Mrs. Webber entered the shop, the ringing bell above the door causing young Mary to jump from behind the counter.

“Did everything go well while we were away, my girl?” Mrs. Webber watched Freda head towards the back, mumbling under her breath about fabrics. There would be no breaking her from her focus for a while.

Mary nodded. “Yes, ma’am. A few threads were sold and a piece of lace. Oh, and a man stopped by. He said to tell you his stepmother wants to make an appointment for dresses for his stepsisters.”

“Stepmother?” Mrs. Webber turned to the girl. “Would this young man be Elliot McKinley?”

Mary nodded, smiling slightly. “Yes. He said that was his name.” Ah, so it seemed Elliot has managed to charm another person out of her shell. That boy had a way with people. He would have made a good representative of the county, just like his father had been. Mrs. Webber was not entirely supportive of McKinley’s replacement that wandered into their village now and then. It was hard to like someone who only showed up twice a year.

Mrs. Webber turned her mind to business, setting her hat on the counter and smoothing her hair down. “Would be so kind as to go and inform Young Mr. McKinley that I have returned and would be willing to see them for an appointment?” Mary nodded and hurried from the shop. Mrs. Webber enjoyed the company of the youngest stepsister, Lottie. What that girl could do with a needle and thread was nothing beyond remarkable. If it were possible, the seamstress would have snatched her up as an apprentice years ago. The same kind of fondness could not be said for Mrs. Platt or Marigold, but they were consistent customers, if nothing else. Besides, the new commission would give her a chance to start Mary’s training.