Christmas Cinderella — third snippet

I realized I couldn’t leave you hanging at the end of the last snippet, when Emm said “I never thought you were a coward, Sally.” So here’s the third and last snippet I’m sharing here.
I hope you enjoy it.
To read the first snippet, click here.
To read the second snippet, click here.

Chapter Three

         “A coward?” Sally blinked. “You think I’m a coward?”

         “No, I don’t.” Emm smoothed Sally’s hair back from her brow. “I think you’re a young woman of courage and character, which is why you will go home and face up to the ball and whatever announcement is made. And whatever the outcome, you will handle it with the grace and dignity I know you are capable of.”

         “I will?”

         “You must,” Emm said gently. “You cannot spend your life hiding from reality and avoiding uncomfortable truths. That is no way to live.” Emm felt a prickle of discomfort as she said it. But there was no comparison between Sally’s reluctance to return home and the six years Emm had spent as a teacher at Miss Mallard’s. Emm had had no choice.

          She looked at Sally’s heartbreakingly young, tear-stained face and took the girl’s hands in hers. “It will be your first test as an adult.”

         Sally’s face crumpled. “I don’t want to be an adult. I just want Peter.”

         Emm squeezed her hands. “I know, my dear, but sometimes what we want is simply not possible.”

         “So, you think I should go home?”

         “You must. What if you are mistaken? Your mother’s letter was a little vague. It’s not definite that Julia and Peter are to be betrothed. What if they’re not?”

         “They will be,” Sally said gloomily. “Julia can wrap men around her little finger. What chance would I have against someone so beautiful.”

         “Oh for goodness’ sake, Sally, you are worth ten of your sister! And I should not have said that—we are supposed to regard all our pupils equally, so if anyone asks I will deny it. But you are!”

         Sally gave a shaky laugh.

         “That’s better. You have a lovely smile, you know. So have faith in yourself. And in this Peter of yours. Any man who would prefer a pretty face over intelligence, kindness and character—well, would you even want such a shallow fellow?”

         “I suppose not,” she said reluctantly.

         “Besides, you are beautiful, it’s just a different kind of beauty from your sister’s more obvious looks.”

         “Beautiful?” Sally made a despairing gesture. “With all these hideous spots?”

         “Horrid, I know, but spots are a temporary affliction. They were a great deal worse a year ago, and by the time you make your come-out next year I am confident your skin will be lovely and clear.”

         “But for the house party I’ll probably still be hideous.”

         “Self-pity is an unattractive and pointless emotion,” Emm said briskly. “Besides, you said Peter has already seen you covered in spots—no doubt much worse than they are now—and I gather he didn’t recoil in horror and run screaming.”

         Sally gave a reluctant chuckle. “No.”

         “That’s better.” Emm patted her hand. “So, are we agreed that you will go home for Christmas and attend this ball—and dance with as many handsome young men as possible? And if the worst happens, and Peter and your sister announce their betrothal, you will muster every bit of grace and dignity you can, and deal with it—yes?”

         Sally sighed. “I suppose so.”

         “Good girl. Now, what if you’re right?”

         Sally frowned. “What do you mean?”

         “I mean what if there is no actual betrothal yet? What if Peter actually does  care for you, and your sister and mother are doing their level best to snare him regardless?”

         Sally sat up straight. “They are, I’m sure of it.”

         “In that case, my dear there is only one thing for you to do.”

         “What?”

         “Fight for him.”

         Sally’s eyes widened. “Fight?”

         “I don’t mean actual physical fighting, of course, but if your sister does not love him, if he does not love her, then yes, by all means fight for him. You have a tendency to hide your light under a bushel—and though I know it’s from the Bible,” Emm added, “I always imagine someone buried under a pile of grain.”

         Sally gave a shaky laugh.

         Emm smiled. “That’s better. Now, why not take the opportunity at this ball to mix with other people, to try out your party wings, so to speak? You’ll be making your come-out next year, so use this as a form of practice. Social interaction is a skill like any other, and a clever girl like you should be able to pick it up quickly, the way you’ve learned your French declensions and everything else.”

         Sally looked at her doubtfully. “Do you mean I should flirt?”

         “Only if you feel like it. A little flirting can be fun and harmless, as long as you don’t go too far. And it will do you good to get to know more than one man—that’s the whole point of society—to get to know a range of people before you settle down with just one.”

         “But what will Peter think if I’m flirting with other men?”

         “I have no idea, but I have no fear you will go beyond the line. However, you are your own person, and it will do Peter no harm to learn that.”

         “But what if I do all that and Peter is still the one for me?”

         “Then talk to him. Let him know how you feel.”

         There was a short silence, then Sally said in a small voice, “But what if he doesn’t love me?”

         “Then it will be very painful, but at least you will know. It is a risk,” Emm added softly. “But love is a risk.”

         There was a long silence while Sally pondered her words. Then she looked up at Emm, her eyes brighter. “You are so wise, Miss Westwood. How do you know so much? Were you once in lo—”

         Emm rose and said briskly. “Now, my dear, it’s time you were in bed. I’ll clear up here—no, there’s no need to help. Off you go and try to get a good night’s sleep. Things will look better in the morning, I promise you.”

         Sally nodded. “I’ll try.” She moved toward the doorway.

         “And Sally, whatever happens remember this; you have intelligence, character and charm—all of which will last a great deal longer than superficial beauty. In fact, your particular qualities will only increase with the years. Any man with a grain of sense will realize that.” Emm was sure such men must exist, though she’d never met one yet. But she had to give Sally something to cling to.

         “I suppose so.” But her face was still full of doubt.

         Oh, the misery of that in-between age, not quite an adult, no longer a child. Emm added, “Which would you prefer to have in a lifetime companion, Sally? A handsome face, or character and kindness?”

         From the doorway, Sally gave her a misty smile. “You’re right. I’ll try to remember it. Good night, Miss Westwood, and thank you. I feel so much better now.” She hesitated, turned back and gave Emm an impulsive hug. “I wish you were my mother.”

         After Sally left, the words echoed in Emm’s mind. She would never be a mother. This was the best she could hope for—to be a temporary mother substitute for the girls in her charge, to listen to their woes and, where appropriate, to offer comfort and advice.

         But in the end she was destined to wave them goodbye and hope that they fared well in later life. She would likely never really know. It was a teacher’s fate: you simply had to do what you could for each pupil and hope for the best.        

* * * * *

After this, the story moves to Sally’s home at Destry Manor.

And for those of you who are wondering (and perhaps worrying) about Emmaline Westwood’s background and fate — you can read it in MARRY IN HASTE.

If you don’t already have it, you can get it at amazon or from this universal link.