Fairytales Reimagined, Volume I

by Valerie Sells

  I had no wish to be a princess, and had thoroughly believed that avoiding that fate was now definite. Though I had shared a dance with the prince, he had moved on to others after myself, and I had seen him to be quite taken with another mysterious beauty. She who wore a sparkling gown of silver-blue and exquisite glass slippers was to be the prince’s bride. That woman was not me. Unfortunately, it seemed that through some terrible case of mistaken identity, the duke and even my own aunt wished to believe that the future princess and myself were one and the same.

  I felt quite sick, entirely overwhelmed as I came rushing out through the glass doors at the back of the main sitting room. The sun on my face was no comfort, though the slight breeze helped me to gain a little composure. I swear, I had not taken a breath since the moment I bolted. Outside felt safer, freer somehow, despite the fact I was still bound to be presented to the prince as his fiancée yet. Surely that moment had to solve everything, I thought then. The moment he saw me, the man himself would know I was not the one he wished to make his bride. The realisation of such a thing allowed me to breathe just a little more easily, but not much. I stumbled towards the bench a few feet away and lowered myself onto the seat.

  Today had begun so promisingly, but had proven itself to be entirely filled with shocks. As if Bradbury’s confession and my own stark realisation of feelings were not enough to completely bowl me over. Now to have the duke here, telling me that because some ridiculous glass shoe fit onto my foot that I had to marry into the royal family, it was just far too much to bear.

  Looking left and right, simply because I hadn’t a clue where to turn, I was surprised and simultaneously elated to see a figure coming towards me. Bradbury seemed not to notice me as he approached, for the moment I stood and called to him he started. He did not wish to face me and this I could fully understand. The duke would make me a liar, through no fault of his own, but it was such. I must sound like such a fraud where the prince was concerned. This on top of the way I had reacted to Bradbury’s advances, he must have thought me quite ridiculous and completely unworthy of his affections.

  “Please, wait!” I called the moment he turned on his heel to go. “Bradbury, please!”

  “I am sorry, Miss. DeMontford,” he apologised, even as he pulled his arm from my reaching grasp. “Had I known the truth of your attachment to the prince, I would never have presumed-”

  “Indeed, Bradbury, if you will just listen!” I interrupted, though I knew I should not, exasperation got the very best of me in such a moment. “I have no attachment to the prince, and I do not wish to form one. Truly, we shared but one dance, and I am not the woman they seek to be his bride. On my honour, I am not!”

  I begged him to understand, as I had never thought to beg before. There were tears on my cheeks that fell unchecked, as I watched all kinds of emotion cross my friend’s face. Bradbury was such a dear man, more dear to me, I had come to realise today, than I ever thought before. He was in pain thanks to my actions, or my lack of same. Such a mess had been made here, that I wondered if it could ever be untangled and made right. If Bradbury’s expression now was anything to measure my success by, I had to assume that all hope was lost.

  “Now does not seem like a pertinent time for such a discussion,” he muttered glancing away. “I must bid you good day, Miss. DeMontford.”

  With those words, he turned and strode away, before I could scarce breathe enough to speak again. It took all my strength to keep in the cries and screams that welled in my chest at that moment. Such an unladylike display I should’ve made given the chance to do so, but I could not. Besides which, such a sound would require me to breathe more successfully. Everything was falling about my head in such an almighty mess, I hadn’t an idea how to ever make sense of any of it.

  Running away never solved anything, I remembered being told as much more times than I could count as a child. Still, I had already begun such an endeavour and could think of nothing else to do but continue in my attempts. The gardens around the house were vast enough, it might take any person that came to find me simply hours to have any success, I was sure.

  Stumbling over my own skirt, I lost both my shoes before I had gone far. The grass was dew covered underfoot, the branches of trees blowing into my path at every turn. It didn’t matter, the tears blinding me were disorientating enough. All I knew was blues and greens of the sky and plants around me, until finally I lost my footing altogether and slumped forward onto the edge of a fountain. From the back windows of our house, the decorative piece was barely visible, which gave me hope. Hiding here behind the stone structure might afford me a little privacy and time.

  I thought nothing for my appearance as I sobbed my heart out, my face buried against my arms that rested on the cool stone. Water splashed down onto my head at times, ruining the style of my hair, and I didn’t care a jot. Nobody would listen to me, nobody wanted to hear. My aunt, the duke, even Bradbury; it was all so pointless and useless.

  The truth of the matter was, I might have been there by the fountain for as little as five minutes or as long as an hour, when suddenly, I knew something had changed. It was the strangest feeling that passed through my whole being, a shifting in the air around me. With my face hidden from the light of the day, I could not understand how everything suddenly seemed brighter, warmer, softer. It was as if I were floating into a dream, and yet I knew too well that I was still awake.

  “There now, child. Do not cry so.”

  The voice that spoke to me was as kind and mild as the hand that rested gently against my hair. I was put in mind of the grandmother I barely remembered from my earliest childhood, though she was long done for this world. Besides, this was not her, the tone of the words did not quite match the way she had spoken.

  Bringing my head up at last, I was stunned to realise that my arms no longer rested against the cold stone of the fountains edge. Indeed, I now had my crossed limbs atop the knees of a stranger, a kindly looking old woman in a blue robe. I would swear I had never seen her before in the whole course of my life, and yet she was so strangely familiar. I hardly knew what to think, certainly not what to say. It seemed I did not have to, as the lady before me explained herself.

  “A great mistake has been made,” she said with such a look of regret as I had never seen, though I am sure my own expression was no less sad in such a moment. “I blame myself, though I did my best to help the poor child. Now I have caused such ruin in two lives.” She sighed. “I only wish it were the first time, and yet my spells have been troublesome before.”

  “I don’t understand,” I forced out.

  My apparent punishment for interrupting was a fit of coughing. My throat was thick with emotion and tears, and it was a few painful moments before I was quiet enough to hear the stranger answer me.

  “Indeed, child, I am not surprised at your confusion, or your heart-break,” she said with a gentle smile, producing a handkerchief from her voluminous sleeve and handing it to me. “The truth of the matter is, I am a fairy godmother,” she presented herself with arms held wide.

  All I could think to do was blow my nose and stare for a long moment. I had heard of fairy godmothers, of course. In books and stories, they were those kind, often elderly women who granted wishes for girls much like myself, but more often for princesses or those who were to become such. My thoughts caught up with me then and a shuddering sob broke through my body. I was the one who must become a princess and here was my fairy godmother to help. I could only hope that begging for her mercy could save me now.

  “I am not the one,” I implored her to listen to the truth I spoke in desperation. “Truly, the fact the slipper fit my foot was quite a coincidence.”

  “This much, I know,” the fairy godmother assured me, her hand atop my own. “It is Cinderella who must marry the prince. It is as the fates had planned it,” she explained.

  It made sense now. This mysterious Cinderella person must indeed have been the elegant lady in the glass slippers who had
quite enchanted the heir to the throne last night at the royal ball. Of course, I wondered in this moment if even a fairy godmother, with all her presumed powers, could make things right. Surely her word ought to count for something with even the king, and yet my heart ached so and my head spun with worry. I had quite convinced myself by now that nothing could save me.

  “Magic will not help?” I asked sadly, hopeful in my heart and yet almost not wanting to listen to what I felt deep inside.

  “It has its limitations,” the old lady admitted with a heavy sigh. “I used so much to bring Cinderella to the ball, dressed as she was in finery and appearing the lady she should always have been,” she explained to me. “The poor girl is kept as a servant by her wicked step-mother and step-sisters. I did my best to help her, sure the prince would see her beauty and kindness and instantly fall in love.”

  “He did indeed,” I assured her with a fervent nodding of my head. “It is the duke and my aunt who insist I am to take her place. I do not want nor deserve such an honour!”

  “You are a good girl, Emelia,” the fairy godmother told me, her hand at my cheek. “So many would take advantage of such a mistake, and yet I knew you would help me put things right, as they ought to be.”

  “There is a way?” I asked, caught between desperation and hope that threatened to tear my heart in two.

  “There may yet be, if you can but be brave,” she promised.

  The fact there was so much of a glimmer of hope of my escaping the fate laid before me brought a smile to my lips. Here was an ally, and potentially magic to be used. Here was assurance that all was not lost, and in this moment, it was as much as I could hope for.

  “What must I do?” I asked outright, sure that I was prepared for anything that must be done to end this infernal mess that had fast become my young life in the space of but a day or two.

  “A great deal, I fear,” the fairy godmother warned me. “But with the help of this,” she continued, pulling a sparkling wand from her other sleeve with a flourish, “we may yet make things right, not just for Cinderella, but also for you, my dear,” she assured me with a smile.

  There was still hope.

  Chapter 8

  My conversation with the fairy godmother quite restored my faith in the world and renewed the confidence I used to have in myself. I was still in no hurry to discuss the future with my aunt, nor visit the palace where the prince would apparently wish me to go. Thankfully, when I had bolted to the gardens in tears, Aunt Beatrice had made arrangements with the duke that my family might journey to the palace that evening, so that I might be presented to both the prince and the king, as a future bride.

  On hearing of it, I bit my tongue so hard I am surprised no blood was drawn. That excursion must never take place, I knew for certain. It was true enough that if I was presented to the prince he ought to know instantly that myself and his one true love were not one and the same. After all, to fall in love so completely, he must have memorised every feature of Cinderella’s face, and mine would hardly compare to the beauty we all observed that night. It was of little consolation, of course. The prince recognising me as the woman I was and not his future bride would not help Cinderella. Though the search might resume, it was clear from what the fairy godmother had said that the poor girl’s step-family would be sure to keep her from view. She must be saved, and since it was impossible for the prince or even magic to play hero at this moment, the task must fall to me.

  Let me be clear that whilst it has always been in my nature to long for adventure, I had been given no real opportunity up to this point to be so very courageous or prove my worth. Ladies are not supposed to wish for such glory or take on such tasks. Men must be allowed to save us, to wield the sword and slay the dragons in whatever form they took. My saving Cinderella and reuniting her with the prince, it was a quite an unprecedented request, but then these were extraordinary times, as my meeting with the fairy godmother had proved.

  When luncheon was served, I refused to leave my room. It was in part a silent protest against the aunt that would use me so ill. Looking back now, perhaps it was a childish manoeuvre. After all, Aunt Beatrice wished only good things for me and saw my alliance with the prince as the key to my future happiness. She could not understand then, as she later would, that her dreams for me would never become my own. She had always thought I would change, settle down, become content with the idea that my situation in life would involve a good if not happy marriage, children and home-making. My dear aunt had always insisted I would grow out of my longing for adventure, but she was proven quite wrong, for to this day I never have.

  During the time when I should have been eating with my family, I was in fact preparing to put a plan into action. The fairy godmother had given me a mission, but no direct instruction. All I knew for certain was that I must help Cinderella escape her captors and bring her to the prince, so that she might claim her place as rightful consort. The whys and wherefores of how this must occur, these were things to be worked out for myself, apparently, as the fairy godmother had faded into a shower of sparks but moments after she explained herself.

  I was as alone now as I had been in that moment hours before, stood in the gardens with nothing and no-one about me but greenery and a misty veil of hope. Gaining access to the house in which Cinderella lived ought not to be so very difficult. Surely, I could pose as a visitor to the ladies of the house. A neighbour seeking friends and acquaintances perhaps. Once in the house, I had no idea how to trace Cinderella’s prison and free her from it. I could only hope that such a plan would form if I gave it enough thought. It was all very well to wish to be clever, an adventurer, and a hero, but quite another to put such a thing into practice.

  My mind wandered back through a bank of tales I had been told as a child, all types of romantic fables and fairy stories. I thought of the diaries I had read in my later years, the accounts of ship’s captains and world explorers, all their adventures and successful heroics. Damsels were often rescued from the clutches of monsters and devils, through sword fights and magic spells and such. All I had was my own ingenuity and stubborn determination to save Cinderella. I had to pray for all I was worth that it was enough.

  I had hoped that when I crept down the long staircase wearing my cloak and hood that my aunt and cousin would still be at table. It seemed I had mistimed my escape, as Alexa came barrelling down the hallway to crash into me and hug me tightly.

  “Oh, Emmy,” she enthused with such a smile upon her face. “You are going to make such a wonderful princess!”

  It seemed it might just break dear, sweet Alexa’s heart if I did not fulfil this duty, and yet I was sure it would definitely break both the hearts of myself and Cinderella if I took the opportunity that was not my own to have. It did no good to speak of it yet, in any case. I merely ran a careful hand through my darling cousin’s hair and hugged her close.

  “You are too kind, Alexa,” I told her with a brave smile. “But princess or not, I should like to go for my walk now. A little fresh air is all I need to clear my head.”

  She did not question it. I was sure I looked pale enough to pass for a woman suffering a headache at least, and my not coming down to lunch would only make the story more plausible.

  It pained me to lie, though in honesty, I had not professed to have the headache all would assume I possessed. I spoke the truth, for saving Cinderella would indeed clear the confusion in my own mind, and in all others.

  Evading Aunt Beatrice was most welcome, and I let out a sigh of relief as I stepped out of the front doors into the midday sun. This walk ought to end with freedom, for myself and for dear Cinderella, not to mention a happy ending for both her and the prince.

  I had not quite made it to the end of our pathway when I realised there was someone waiting at the gate. It was startling to notice it was Bradbury who hovered there, clearly feeling awkward in approaching our home again after the way he had left it barely four hours earlier. Before he ever saw me, I had deci
ded I was quite cross with him, and would not ask why he was there. After all, it ought to be clear, since Alexa was supposed to have had lessons this morning. Bradbury’s teaching had been quite abandoned when he walked out on us all, and though I had been desolate to realise he could not believe me, that sadness had turned quickly to anger when I thought about it more. If he truly loved me as he stated, then he ought to believe me when I told him I had no feelings for the prince. Instead, he had walked away, and now returned, with his tail between his legs, no doubt. I did not wish to hear excuses or apologies, and yet found myself almost disappointed when neither truly came.

  “Miss. DeMontford.” He nodded a polite greeting as I stepped out beside him. “I... I must apologise to your aunt and cousin, and indeed to you, for the way I left so abruptly. Alexa will have been expecting her lessons.”

  I ought not to have let out the unladylike scoff of incredulous laughter, I know that, and yet it escaped quite out of my control. Such apologies I was to accept as reasonable? That Bradbury was sorry he may have caused offence to his employers? It appeared the feelings he had spoken of, the manner of our parting just this morning, it had all evaporated like any other meaningless thing might.

  “You apologise for your abandonment of my dear cousin, Bradbury,” I challenged him, “yet you will not meet my eyes, and will give no explanation for your walking out on me, and in my moment of greatest need!”

  His looks were all astonishment when he finally let his eyes drift toward mine. I knew Bradbury would be surprised to hear me speak in such a way. Though he knew me to be head-strong and regularly more out-spoken than a young lady ought to be, I don’t suppose he ever considered for a moment that I might use such a tone to address him. As I have explained before, we were always good friends, Bradbury and I. So much seemed to change when real romantic feelings became a part of our relationship. Unfortunately, such things really could not be undone, or words such as his earlier confession unsaid.