The weeks following our arrival proved to be absolutely torturous. The entire estate awoke at the crack of dawn, and as if that was not horrible enough, it was assumed that I would be up as well. Were it my decision, I would have gladly skipped breakfast and slept until a less barbaric hour, but my stepfather insisted that we conform to his routine. So every morning I dragged myself out of bed to glare at him from across the table. 

Ella, of course, was all smiles and easy conversation as if unaware of the fact that no civilized person rose at such an ungodly hour. Her chatter filled what would have otherwise been a sullen silence, for even my mother only uttered a few remarks at breakfast out of necessary politeness.

To make matters worse, there was nothing to do after waking up. The governess hired to teach us our lessons was a complete idiot, worried more about mediocre needlework and water colors than reading or arithmetic. Our lessons were short, easy, and pointless. By early afternoon, I was ready to tear out my hair from boredom.

One such afternoon, I was pacing back and forth in the drawing room. Gigi was upstairs lying in bed with a headache, so I was deprived even of the small amusement provided by her company. I was just about to throw myself down upon the couch in a most unladylike manner when a noise behind me halted my actions.

"Hello," Ella said tentatively. She smiled uncertainly under my cold glare. "I heard you tell your mother that you were bored, and I was wondering if perhaps you might like to come take a walk with me to see the new puppies."

"What puppies?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Madame Criner's dog gave birth to a litter, and she told me I could keep one. Would you like to come see them?" She looked at me expectantly, rocking back and forth on her dirty bare feet in an impatient dance.

I wrinkled my nose. "I have no intention of traipsing all over the countryside just to see a litter of dogs. It isn't dignified."

Disappointment clouded her face. "Oh. Well, it isn't far, so you don't have to worry about dirtying your dress or your hair getting mussed, if that is what is worrying you. Are you certain that you don't want to come?"

On the one hand, I did not like Ella. I found her overwhelmingly sweet and cheerful personality annoying. People who are always eager to please are either trying to court your favor or else they are hiding something. I also had no desire to tromp through the fields on a hot summer afternoon. Still, I craved distraction from the monotony of life within the walls of a country manor. I was in danger of exploding in a most unladylike fashion if I remained imprisoned much longer.

"I suppose it would not hurt to take a short walk," I said, pulling the bell to summon a servant to fetch my hat and parasol. "And mother did say that it was important for us to cultivate new acquaintances."

Ella beamed. "Madame Criner will be very pleased to meet you. And just wait until you see the puppies!"

A stiff little smile was my only response. I remained unconvinced.

Apparently, they do not judge distances in the country the same fashion that they do in the city. The trek to Madame Criner's house took a good half hour. The sun was hot, making the fine fabric of my clothing stick to my skin in spite of my parasol. Ella also refused to travel along any decent roads, choosing instead to glide over fields and through groves while I stumbled over the uneven ground in my now stained periwinkle shoes. 

By the time we reached Madame Criner's, I felt like a wilted flower. The walk had done wonders for Ella, however. Her cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes shone like the sky. While watching her, I was reminded of how her father compared her to a woodland sprite. Looking at her now, it was easy to believe that the blood of the Fae coursed through her veins. I turned away and stopped to straighten my hat and tuck away the damp tresses clinging to my forehead.

Madame Criner's home was not at all what I expected. A tiny cottage leaned haphazardly within its hiding spot amongst the dark evergreens. A flock of geese announced our arrival with a flurry of honking while a mangy brown dog barked in accompaniment. 

A shrill voice pierced through the cacophony. "Quiet! Quiet all of you!" A pair of shutters opened and a wizened old woman stuck her grimy face outside. "Who's there?" she asked, squinting into the light.

"It's me," Ella called as she neared the open window. "I brought my new stepsister, Jocelin, to see the puppies."

Madame Criner's gaze sharpened as she caught sight of me standing behind Ella. I felt her shrewd eyes move over me, from the top of my hat to the bottom of now muddy hem. When her sharp gaze met mine, I felt that I had somehow been weighed and found wanting.

"The pups are around back," she said. "They are still too young to leave their mother. You'll have to wait another week."

"I know," Ella said, stooping to kiss the woman's wrinkled cheek. "I just came to play with them for a bit."

"As you wish," she said, no longer acknowledging my presence. "You know that you are welcome to visit at any time."

A tiny barn stood at the back of the cottage, and Ella quickly disappeared inside. I hesitated for a moment and peered into the dim light. A cow stood off to the side. Ella was stooped over a mound of hay in the back. I stepped inside.

"Look!" Ella said, holding up a small lump of golden fur. "Is he not the most adorable thing you have ever seen?" The puppy squirmed and tried to lick her nose.

I nodded politely. "He is."

She smiled and thrust the furry bundle into my arms. "His name is Odo," she said.

I nodded, awkwardly gripping the squirming puppy. I have never been very fond of dogs, having always preferred cats. I find dogs' constant need for love and attention exhausting. Cats are nice and independent, content to enjoy a person's company while pretending to ignore them. Odo wriggled around until we were face to face and licked my cheek. I smiled tentatively, and his tail began whipping back and forth.

"How did you come to know Madame Criner?" I asked, rubbing the top of the puppy's head.

"Oh, I've known her my whole life," Ella said, nuzzling another tiny pup. "She knew my mamma."

I wrinkled my nose at the thought of the lady of a fine manor visiting a place like this. "Was your mother in the habit of visiting peasants?"

Ella's brow furrowed and an unexpected spark shone in her eyes. It was the first time I ever saw her angry. "What is wrong with that?" she asked, her voice sharp. "It is the duty of good kind lady to make certain that the people serving her are well. Besides, Madame Criner isn't like everyone else. She's special."

I was about to ask her what she meant by this when a warm trickle down the front of my dress drove the thought from my mind. "Oh!" I exclaimed jumping up and dropping the puppy. "Oh! That horrid little dog. Just look at what he did to my dress!" A large wet stain spread down the front of my bodice.

Ella's eyes widened. "Oh, no! I'm so sorry. I'm certain Madame Criner will be able to clean your dress."

"No!" I said, hot, angry tears filling my eyes. For reasons I could not understand, a strange mixture of emotions began to boil within me. The next instant, it was as if a dam broke, releasing all of the anger and hostility I had stored up since my arrival to the country. "I want to go home," I said, my voice dripping with hatred for my surroundings. "I'm tired of this place! I want to go back to the city. I miss my house and my friends. I miss my books. I hate it here!"

I turned away, sobbing and fully aware that my mother would have scolded me for my childish outburst. I didn't care. It was her fault for ripping me away from the only escape I had from the pressures of my gilded cage of corsets, manners, and hairdressers.

Ella placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off. I didn't want her comfort, her pity, or anything else she might offer.

"Come with me," she said quietly. "We're going home."

We walked in silence on our way back to the manor. This time, Ella refrained from running along up ahead. She seemed pensive. I chose to ignore her. The hot fire inside my chest had burned itself out, leaving me cold and empty. All I wanted to do was get back to the house, change into my nightgown, and crawl between the covers where I could pretend that I was back home in my old bed. 

Ella, it seemed, had other plans.

"Meet me in front of the back staircase once you've changed out of that dress," she said. "I want to show you something."

Intrigued, I decided to postpone my original plan and changed quickly. Thankfully, Gigi was not there to assail me with questions. One fortunate thing about moving to the country was that I was no longer compelled to share a room with my sister. This house was much larger than the one we lived in before. 

Ella was waiting for me when I arrived at the designated meeting point. "What is it that you wanted to show me?" I asked. She took my hand, and I resisted the urge to pull away. Such behavior is the mark of ill-breeding.

"It's just through here," she said, leading me towards a beautifully carved door that I recognized as the entrance to her father's rooms.

I gasped as the door opened to reveal a beautifully furnished library. "Oh!" I said softly, eyeing the shelves greedily. "But won't your father mind?"

Ella laughed and shook her head. "Papa wishes that I would spend more time in here. He says that his books get lonely while he is away on business trips because there is no one to read them."

A lump came to my throat, and I was forced to blink quickly lest I be overcome by tears. "Thank you," I whispered, throwing my arms around her in a most uncharacteristic fashion.

"Jocelin!"

I froze at the sound of my mother's voice. She was angry, and there was ice in her voice. Slowly, I straightened and turned around. "Yes, mother?"

"Where have you been all afternoon?" she said. "Madame Hasad and her son came to call on us, and you were nowhere to be found."

"It's my fault, stepmother," Ella said, stepping forward. "I invited her to meet another neighbor—"

"This matter is between me and my daughter," my mother, said cutting her off. Her eyes never left my face. "Please be so kind as to leave us."

Ella's gaze shifted uncomfortably from my mother to me. I nodded. "Just go," I said, an angry edge in my voice. "You will only cause more damage than has already been done.

Ella nodded and slipped quietly out the door.

My mother's gaze hardened. "Do you have even the slightest notion of what you look like at the moment?" she asked. "If there was a mirror here, I would have you stand in front of it. Your hair is tumbling out of place, and your face is in need of a good wash. And what on earth is that smell?"

"I am sorry, mother," I said, unwilling to meet her gaze any longer. "When Ella—"

"I don't want you spending any more time with her," she said, silencing me. There was glint of hatred in her eyes that I had never seen before. "Let her run wild as much as she wants—all the better for you. While she is out galavanting across the country, you will stay here, working to cultivate desirable acquaintances. She may be a winsome child, but you, my darling, are a lady. Have I made myself understood?"

"Yes, mother," I said, silently counting the seconds until I could bury myself in a book.