Read Online Just Like Magic by Elizabeth Townsend - Free Book Online Page A

true. Still, what did it matter? I’d never even met the prince, and I suspected his sister was a snob. A snob! Ha! Who was I to talk?
“That’s what the king wants,” I pointed out. “What do they say the prince wants?”
Henry shook his head sturdily. “Stands to reason a prince marries a princess, miss. Or someone high and noble. The queen, now, she wasn’t a princess, but her dad was an earl and a King’s Counselor and—”
“Henry!”
“Miss?”
“Henry, I don’t want to hear about who the prince marries, or who’s carrying the invitations, or, or anything!” I stood up. “I need to go back inside and make some more tea.”
I pushed open the door into the cool dark of the kitchen and pulled up a chair at the table. For a few minutes I just sat, tea forgotten. What did Henry know, anyway? Why couldn’t I—why couldn’t— Somehow, the thoughts died in my head. Henry knew a lot. With one ear in the palace and the other on the streets, he knew almost everything that happened in town. If anyone knew who the prince was supposed to marry, it was Henry.
Why had I always thought I had a chance? Just because my father had called me “Princess?” Princess Ella of Queen’s Way Kitchen. My cheeks turned dull pink in the shadowy room. I tried to turn my thoughts elsewhere, but they kept coming back around to myself. My childhood ambitions? Nothing but fantasies. My present life? A self-deluded waiting for doors to open that forever would stay closed to me. I waited for tears to come, but I was past tears.
“Miss!” Henry was peering in at the door.
“Yes?”
“There’s slugs in the chard! Got any ashes?”
Ashes? I winced and glanced in the mirror. “They’re usually in the fireplace! Why ashes?”
“Slugs don’t like ‘em, miss.”
I found myself wanting to laugh hysterically. What did Miss Ella Merton have in common with slugs? A dislike of ashes. “I bet Hannah Homebody knew that,” I said.
“Who, miss?”
“Someone in a book.” And suddenly, with a glum instinct, I knew what I had to do. Of course I could continue to turn up my nose and shake my fist at life if I wanted, but where did it get me? Did it bring me any closer to life as a lady? What was a lady, anyway? Wasn’t my mother one? And yet hadn’t she started her life in a kitchen?
I stared around my kitchen. Henry was looking at me hopefully. I didn’t have anything to feed him. I didn’t have a clean cup in the house. I needed to do the dishes—and I was sick of tea and toast.
“Henry?”
“Yes, miss?”
I opened my mouth twice before I finally got the words out.
“Do you think—that your sister could show me how to cook?”

 
    7
    Cinders for Ella
Henry brought Lottie over on Wednesday afternoon, her half-holiday. She had me face to face with the stove, kindling in my hand, when Lucy sauntered down the stairs.
“Preparing another beauty treatment, Ella?” She looked around and raised an eyebrow. “And who’s that? Making friends with the servants next door?”
“This is Lottie Perkins, Henry’s sister. Now go away!”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Miss Ashes. I came to tell you that Mama would like some tea. Without the leaves.””
“Fine. I’ll get her some tea. Now get out of the kitchen!”
“Temper, temper.” Lucy shook a finger at me and strolled back up the stairs. I wished I had kicked her. Or the stove. Or something.
“Using the stove’s not difficult, miss,” Lottie said patiently. “Only you got to—you have to build the fire properly first and give it air and all. Now you try.”
Kindling, logs, and a little straw. A coal from the fireplace set it alight. Had I really done it? In a matter of minutes the kettle was boiling on the stove.
“So much easier to work on than fireplaces, miss, really,” said Lottie, smiling at me like a teacher at a slow pupil who has finally mastered the two times table. “Now about the roast—”
I cringed, but she soon had me sliding a roast into the oven.