Glass Slippers [1st Draft]

8. Mrs. Landon

Chapter Eight:

Mrs. Landon

A Little Over One Year Later

————————————————————-

Today was supposed to be great, it was supposed to be wonderful and perfect and just overall amazing. So far, it was not. Instead of a day full of happiness, Clara was stuck in the kitchen, listening in growing dread to Mrs. Landon speak.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes," Mrs. Landon said, not turning from her cooking to look at Clara. "Your stepmother informed me today."

"Today? But when do you have to leave?"

"Tomorrow morning, a little after breakfast."

"I don't understand. What about your husband and Tom? Are they leaving, too?"

"Just Mr. Landon and I are leaving," Mrs. Landon answered stiffly. Clara frowned. This wasn't right at all! The Landons had always been at the Corden home, it was just as much their home as it was Clara's. Not to mention Tom was only ten, surely he wasn't ready to be left on his own?

"Why? Did she tell you her reasons?"

"No," Mrs. Landon answered and Clara pulled on the woman's arm so that way she could see her face. "Miss Clara I need to-"

"Are you saying that she just went up to you and told you to pack your bags and leave?" Clara was surprised to see Mrs. Landon's face crease with a slight smile.

"It looks like you know your stepmother better than you think you do. Those were almost her exact words."

"You're kidding."

"Not in the slightest, my dear." Mrs. Landon went back to using her rolling pin. "Why don't you go spend time with your siblings? I can handle this."

"But-"

"No. Go on, shoo! Don't think I've forgotten the date. Goodness knows you deserve a spot of happiness on your birthday. In fact, I'd say you deserve more than that," Mrs. Landon stated matter-of-factly as she made a shooing motion at Clara.

When Clara didn't automatically move, Mrs. Landon took her by the shoulders and steered her out the back kitchen door, closing it behind her before Clara could come back in.

Standing out in the garden, Clara let out a sigh. Today was her seventeenth birthday. Today was the day she would be considered of age, the day her mother had promised would be one of the best of her life, the day, that if she was still the daughter of a lady, she would've been presented at court.

She would've met the royal family, and later, she would've been allowed to go to her first dinner party or ball. She'd have her first dance, her first glass of wine, although only a sip of it. Her mother and father would've smiled, looking on proudly, and Clara would've been nervous but excited. It would've been perfect, and just thinking on it made Clara's throat tighten.

None of that would happen now. The best she could do was spend time with her family, or what was left of it.

However, as much as she wanted to go spend time with her family, to at least get a portion of what had been promised to her for the first fifteen years of her life, she had something she needed to do. Climbing the front steps, she let herself back in and made her way to the parlor.

The sounds of high-pitched laughter and the clinking of teacups on china plates reached her ears before she got to the doorway. Part of her wanted to barge in and demand an audience with her stepmother, but she knew that wouldn't get her anywhere.