Dearest Cinderella (7 page)

"It is." He turned to his
mother, watching her take a seat on the chair in the back corner of
the room. "Is there something I can help you with mother?"

"That girl you danced with last
night, who was she?" He'd been naive to hope that she might not
have noticed.

"A girl." A girl he'd hoped to
marry. He pointedly refrained from thinking of the kisses they'd
shared, the feel of her small hand in his, the way she'd smiled,
laughter in her eyes as she twirled in dance.

"And what are your intentions
with this girl? I did not recognise her, therefore she must not be
suitable." She was suitable in every way that he cared. She was
kind and sharp, witty and beautiful. She had a mind that challenged
his own.

"I intend to wed her, but you
are correct she is not of royal blood, nor is she nobility." His
mother made an intake of horror, standing from her chair.

"You must know that I do not
approve." He nodded, his mind was set, not his mother nor the
entire royal line could have forced him to change his mind.
Regardless of what station of life she was from he would be a fool
to refuse himself the chance of a future with her. "You will be
making a mockery of us! What will they think?"

"They will not think anything.
They are our subjects, not our advisors."

"That we are not royalty!" She
fumed, pacing in his study, her hands balled up by her side.

"If anything, it will bring us
closer to our subjects," she made a short bark that sounded vaguely
like a laugh.

"Mother, this is what you
wanted, for me to marry for love." She glanced at him, stopping mid
stride.

"You only met her last
night!"

"That may be true but I have
know her for much longer." She rolled her eyes, falling back into
her chair.

"Explain yourself." He took a
deep breath and began recounting the series of events that led to
last night.

Dorothy Fairgem sat in her back
room, making adjustments to a new dress she was working on, white
and beautiful. Fairgem rushed to finish the dress, the sun rose as
she sat over it, trying to make something even half as beautiful as
the one that she'd given Cinderella two nights previous. Fairgem
had been expecting Cinderella to arrive the next morning, regaling
her with stories of romance and returning the dress. Instead, she'd
received silence. Her teeth worried over her bottom lip as she
focused on the dress. Nothing would come from worrying she reminded
herself. Nothing had gone wrong. The plan hadn't been fool-proof
but Cinderella had known that there would be risk. The bell
attached to the door at the front of the shop rang as it was pulled
open, indicating that a customer had entered.

"Just one moment!" She called
out as she carefully laid the dress to rest back on the table,
slipping her feet back into her slippers and walking out to meet
them. She'd been expecting a customer, hoping to be met by
Cinderella but never imagining the Prince would be standing in the
center of her humble store looking uncomfortable and masculine
surrounded by rows of lace.

"Your Majesty," she bowed
clumsily.

"Fairgem, have you seen
Cinderella?" He held the shoe, fidgeting it from hand to hand. Her
heart rate sped. He too thought something was wrong.

"I have not." His frown
darkened, it had been what he was expecting but not what he'd hoped
for.

"How can I contact her?"

"Come, sit." She motioned him
over to a small pink, heart shaped stool where he sat trying to
accommodate for his long legs. "Is it possible she does not want
you to contact her?" He was silent. Fairgem had to ask; she knew
that Cinderella had been afraid. It was entirely possible that
realising he was the Prince had pushed her past her limits and now
she was retreating. She'd never thought she was acceptable, her
stepmother had beaten it into her at such a young age that
regardless of how much praise Fairgem had tried to counteract that
abuse with, it had never been enough.

"Yes." He looked down at the
shoe in his hands. Fairgem itched to ask but she knew that he
wouldn't tell her, she knew very little about the Prince but of
what she had gleamed, he was private. Especially about things he
cared for.

"Cinderella has a secret,
something she thinks you will reject her for." He looked up.

"It does not matter."

"You will not ask me for it?"
She sat back in her own chair, surprised.

"It matters not to me." He
levelled her with his eyes, fire burning within their depths.

"You surprise me, your
Highness."

"I have lived my entire life
with people expecting things of me. Expecting me to disappoint them
or to make them proud. Thinking that they know what I am capable
of." Mark stopped abruptly, reining his frustration. He looked back
down at the slipper, taking deep calming breaths. "Will you give me
her address?" Fairgem watched him curiously. He was not who she'd
thought he would be. She'd confessed to wondering how on earth
Cinderella had connected with him in their correspondence. But as
she sat opposite of him, his head bowed slightly in respect that he
didn't owe her, she saw their resemblance. She saw his
vulnerabilities and she respected him for them. Perhaps Cinderella
was not the only one afraid. Because he had not ordered her to
surrender the address, nor threatened her, she humbly agreed and
sent him on his way before returning to the back room. Smiling, she
picked up the gown once more. Pushing the needle through the
fabric, content that she had done right by her daughter.

CHAPTER

TEN

Cinderella pulled at the door
latch, it refused to give way. Frustration built within her, making
her want to scream. It had been two days. Two days without food or
contact. She fought tears as she walked back to sit on her bed. Her
stomach ached and her head pounded so loudly, as she lay on her
bed, that she almost didn't hear the quiet whispering just outside
her room. Silently she stood, creeping over to the door to rest her
ear against it in the hopes of identifying the whisperers. She bent
down to look through the keyhole and was shocked to see both
Anabeth and Rebecca standing outside her door, looking as if they
were in the middle of an argument. She strained to listen,

"Anabeth, mother will punish us,
she's evidently done something to deserve her punishment."

Anabeth's answer was vehement,
"Nobody deserves to be locked in their room for days, and I’ve
asked in the kitchen, she hasn't been receiving food!"

Cinderella's heart leapt.
Please, she repeated under her breath like a chant.

"Anabeth..."

"No, I'm entering." Cinderella
heard the sharp scratch of metal against metal as Anabeth pushed
the key into the lock and twisted. She was halfway across the room
when the door opened a fraction to reveal the heads of her two
sisters. "Hello." Anabeth said cautiously, opening the door a
fraction wider to reveal a tray of food in her arms. "We brought
you some food," they entered the room, Anabeth smiling kindly and
Rebecca walking beside her with a small frown on her face.

"Thank you." She reached out to
the tray Anabeth placed on the table and picked up a piece of bread
and cheese. She ate in silence as they watched her. "I'm sorry, I
didn't offer you some, would you like to share with me?" They shook
their heads and signaled that she should continue eating. Once
she'd finished she picked up the tea and took small sips of it,
savouring the full flavour. It wasn't quite hot anymore but
nevertheless it warmed her. "I cannot thank you enough."

"You are welcome. Why is mother
punishing you?" Anabeth asked, to which she received a sharp elbow
to her side, delivered by her sister who glared at her
pointedly.

"No that's ok, it's a fair
question." Cinderella put the teacup down. Walking over to the
chest where she kept her clothes, she opened the latch and
proceeded to pull out the gown she'd worn at the ball. She held it
up to show them. Their eyes widened when the realisation dawned on
them.

"I knew it was you." Rebecca
said, standing to take a better look at the gown.

"Is that why mother hates you?
Do you sneak out often?" Cinderella laughed softly at Anabeth's
questions.

"That night was the first time I
have ever defied your mother and no, she has hated me long before
this. Ever since I was born you could say."

"Why?" Cinderella left the dress
in Rebecca's hands and went to sit beside Anabeth on the bed. She
took a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves and ignore the
way her heart hammered away in her chest.

"Because of our father." The
room was silent. Her hands trembled with fear. She couldn't bare
her sisters' rejection. The silence stretched in the room until
Anabeth made a small fake cough.

"So you are not a distant cousin
after all."

"I am not. We share our dear
father." Absurdly, Anabeth laughed.

"Dear? My, that's not how I
would describe the man."

"How would you describe him?"
She looked up at Rebecca who still stood, turned away and holding
the dress.

"Cruel, self-centred,
controlling. He never let us hug him you know? Said it wasn't
seemly." He had never let Cinderella hug him either, but she'd
assumed it was because of her illegitimacy.

"Truly? And I." Anabeth turned
to her, embracing her in a hug that warmed her further than any cup
of tea could have.

"Truly, sister." Tears formed in
her eyes, rushing down her cheeks as a result of her heart full.
They only withdrew from their embrace when they heard the door open
and shut, noticing Rebecca had silently left the room.

"She is angry." Cinderella
wasn't surprised, she'd never dreamed to expect that one of her
sisters would accept her, much less both of them. Anabeth placed
her hand on Cinderella's shoulder, offering a small smile.

"I will talk to her." Then she
left the room, locking the door behind herself. Cinderella was left
alone again, except she wasn't quite as alone anymore.

The forest was quiet as Prince
Mark rode through it. He rode carelessly, with only one thought in
his head. Cinderella. As he exited the forest he found a small
quaint street with a row of town houses and one grand manor at the
end of the court. He slowed the horse to a trot, passing the
houses, analysing the street. It could have been any house. Fairgem
had only given him directions, not a description. He stopped in
frustration; the only way to find out would be to knock on each
door. He dismounted the horse, gripping it by the reins and walking
over to the nearest home to ask about a Cinderella when he heard a
whinny. If he hadn't have been so close to his horse he might have
thought the whinny had originated from beside him. The sound came
from behind the manor at the end of the lane. Filled with a sense
of anticipation, the Prince made his way to the mansion and knocked
on the door. An elderly butler opened the door, his eyes widening
before he bowed with exaggerated flourish, his nose almost touching
the floor.

"Your Majesty, please come in."
He led Mark down an elegantly furnished hallway and into a large
fashionable sitting room where he was left to wait. Not a moment
had passed before a lady waltzed in. She was dressed in fine
clothing; Cinderella's family was obviously wealthy. She bowed
politely, a small smile straining her lips.

"Your Majesty, you honor me with
your presence. Would you like me to ring for tea?" He held a hand
up.

"That will not be necessary."
His words were curt. When he looked at her he could not help but
remember all the times Cinderella had spoken of her family and the
way they'd treated her. The mere sight of her smile made him
unbelievably angry. He longed to strangle the woman.

"Is there something I can help
you with, your Highness?"

"Yes, I am here to see one of
your daughters." Her eyes immediately sharpened, her eyelids
lowering and smile stretching wider until it looked like it might
split her tight face open.

"Which one? For I have two
lovely daughters. Miss Anabeth and Miss Rebecca." Loath to waste
time with charades and nonsense, the Prince stood up and looked
down at the prim woman who radiated coldness.

"I am here to see Miss
Cinderella."

"I'm afraid we have no one here
by that name." Without looking at her, he strode from the room in
search of the butler, ignoring as Cinderella's stepmother called
out to him. He was dimly aware that she followed him, trying to get
his attention, but as he strode through the house he hardly noticed
her. The butler ran to them, having heard his mistress calling out.
At the sight of the Prince he again made a very low bow.

"Tell me, where is Cinderella?"
He commanded. The butler hesitated, his Adam's apple bobbing in his
throat as he looked past the Prince's shoulder and at the glaring
face of his mistress. "That was an order from your Prince." The
butler swallowed, making a short curt nod.

"This way, your Highness." The
Prince and Cinderella's stepmother followed him up stairs then into
the servants' quarters, where they then made their way up another
set of steps until they reached a solitary door. The Prince was
fuming; rational thought fled him as he was escorted through the
servants' areas. What had they done to his Cinderella? He pulled a
hand out to knock on her door.

"Cinderella?" They waited a
moment but there was only silence.

"There's no Cinderella here my
Prince!" The lady beside him tried to interject. Not seconds after
she'd finished talking a small, frail voice arose behind the
door,

"Jon?" He tried the door but
then found it was locked, turning murderous eyes onto the entitled
lady beside him, he found that her two daughters were standing
beside him, looking shocked.