“Mamá! What are you doing here? You will have us caught.” More rustling sounds. The door closed softly, once more part of their contrivance.
“What the devil are the two of you up to?” Stepmamá demanded.
“Mamá, your language! Keep your voice down.” Cinderella grinned at Essie’s superb inflection of conspiracy.
“Where is Cinderella, I…I need her to press my…my gloves?” Stepmamá’s tone was accusatory but, as expected, she’d bought into the dramatics and lowered her voice. Now, if they could keep her from peering beneath the bed.
More whooshing of skirts, then Pricilla. “She is in the gardens—we believe. She is enamored by those silly statues.”
Cinderella frowned at that. Silly?
“This is what comes from too much unhealthy exposure to books, my lovelies. Mind what I tell you.” She pointed a finger to drive home her point. “Intelligence in a woman is an undesirable trait.”
“Oui, Mamá. I was admiring her shoes,” Essie said. “Look.” Shuffling sounded. “Why can I not have shoes like these…” she wailed. “Why should she have so many?”
“Just take those,” Stepmamá snapped. “Cinderella will certainly have no need for slippers threaded with gold.”
“Truly? Should I?” she gushed. Cinderella stifled a giggle, picturing Pricilla’s eyes rolling skyward. Behind Stepmamá, of course.
“Something odd is going on,” Stepmamá reasoned. If one could call Stepmamá reasonable.
“What do you mean, Mamá?” Pricilla was almost as good an actress as Essie. Cinderella had to cover her mouth. Laughing would ruin everything.
“Why is the queen so insistent to include Cinderella, do you suppose? She has taken an unusual interest in her.” Stepmamá’s bitterness could not be subdued. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air.
Alarm tingled over Cinderella.
“My dear, Esmeralda, I cannot forget that it was you, my darling…”
“Shush,” Pricilla interrupted increasing the theatrics with a melodramatic beat. “We must leave. If you are correct in your assumptions regarding the queen…” she trailed off.
“Oui. Oui, of course,” Stepmamá agreed quickly. “I shall take care of her later. Right now we have a betrothal ball to prepare for.”
The breath rushed from Cinderella’s body, relieved as their voices faded from the chamber. She hesitated a few moments more before crawling from beneath the massive bed.
An effervescent glow blinked from the room and slowly dissipated. She had the strangest feeling…“Fairy godmother?” she called, softly. But, only silence greeted her.
The door stood slightly ajar. She shook out her skirts, willed her pounding heart to a normal rhythm, certain she’d ne’er feel normal again.
Cinderella spun in a slow circle. Each day it became more and more difficult to confess her true identity to her newly found sisters. The secret she harbored would devastate their tenuous relationship. Once more she'd allowed a golden opportunity to pass for the coward she was, and, alas, there was no one to advise her. Tears filled her eyes.
For certain, Essie and Pricilla would forever hate her.
Chapter 24
“Hurry along, Cinde,” Essie prodded. “A carriage awaits our presence.”
“I am trying, but all my shoes seemed to have vanished.”
“Your shoes! What could you have done with your shoes?”
Essie’s exasperation was as annoying as the fact that all of her shoes had, in fact, dematerialized. Were the three of them not, the prior day, using her shoes as a diversion for Stepmamá?
Cinderella backed her head from the inside of the armoire to assess her stepsisters. Essie paced the chamber on the far side of the large bed, before dropping to peer beneath. Pricilla stood before the door, arms folded across her chest, leather slipper tapping impatiently. Neither struck her as the guilty party.
“Well, I…I cannot go without my slippers,” Cinderella informed them, hands fisted at her hips. A small bile of panic rose in her throat.
“You shall borrow a pair of mine,” Pricilla said.
Oh, now that was rich, Cinderella wanted to shout. Pricilla’s foot had not fit her glass shoe, but raising that little fact could land her with a knot on her head.
Unfortunately, Essie could and shot Pricilla a look of pure disdain. “You have forgotten how large your feet are, Cill.” Sparks lit Pricilla’s eyes and Cinderella suddenly feared the repercussions with an acute dread of the past.
“Merci, Pricilla. We…we could try,” Cinderella squeaked. Anything to dispel the sudden tension.
To Pricilla’s credit she turned on her heel to stride from the room thus avoiding an inevitable explosion. Cinderella darted after her, careful not to engage in the unladylike act of running, leaving Essie to follow at her leisure. She found it disconcerting to scurry along in the wide halls in her stocking feet.
Cinderella prayed they encountered no one. She glanced over her shoulder to see Essie had less care for decorum as she raced forward to catch them.
“You cannot possibly wear her shoes, Cinde. They will be much too large for you,” she hissed.
“Perhaps, but it was quite ungracious of you to point out the fact in that manner,” Cinderella retorted. “Now she is furious and one of us will surely pay.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I shall handle the matter.”
“Like you just did? Sorry to disappoint you, but if I must flop round in too-large of shoes, I shall do so.” She took a deep breath. “We’ve come so far, however tenuous.”
Essie crinkled her nose at the statement, but thankfully, let it slide. “Where is Mamá, Cill?” Essie asked. “We best not let her discover the three of us interacting so graciously.”
The statement had the desired effect. Pricilla halted so abruptly in the middle of the wide hall, Cinderella plowed into her backside. She seemed not to notice. “Oui. Oui, of course.”
“What is it you propose we do now?” Essie said, bumping into Cinderella.
Funny how she and Essie depended on Pricilla’s fortitude in such moments. Her natural leadership was infinitely clear. It boggled one’s mind, but Cinderella was more than content to turn the entire matter over to the pragmatic Pricilla.
“I suggest one of us venture ahead ensuring she is no where round,” Pricilla said, her voice low.
“That is very wise. I shall go,” Essie volunteered. “Wait here.” She shot forward, disappearing quickly.
A sense of foreboding snaked down Cinderella’s spine as Pricilla turned to her with a contemplative air. With careful circumspect Cinderella waited, wary and watchful.
“I seem to recall a statement uttered a few days past,” Pricilla said. “One that has just this moment occurred to me.”
Cinderella clutched her skirt in tight fisted fingers, and listened for the scathing viciousness to which she was so accustomed. But only guarded curiosity met her ears. “What statement would that be?”
Pricilla tapped her chin with the tip of her forefinger before answering. “That you had dainty feet too.”
Heat on her face, Cinderella managed a nervous swallow, waiting to see where Pricilla meant to go with this thread of conversation.
“What, pray tell, should foster such a statement? I do believe the comment soared straight over Essie’s good senses.” Cinderella thought Pricilla said this more to herself.
“Oui…well, when my papá married and….and you and Essie…” She swallowed another lump, not quite sure how to express her words. But Pricilla just stared, so she had to say something. “When you and Essie moved in with Papá and I…she…she took possession of all my…my shoes…” Cinderella’s voice trailed. She shut her eyes because there was nothing more she could say. She held her head high, waited for the crack of Pricilla’s hand across her cheek. But after a long stretched silence when nothing happened she opened her eyes, to see Pricilla staring at her oddly.
“Oui, that is so, but we were all quite young. I vow,
it makes no sense.” Pricilla's shrewd and piercing gaze almost had her stumbling a confession but Essie hurried back round the corner interrupting the moment, the swish of her skirts stealing their attention.
“Come quickly,” she panted. “Mamá was summoned by the queen so we must finish before she returns. There is no time to lose.”
That set the three of them in motion.
Another lost moment, or a granted reprieve? Cinderella could not tell which. She could stand the agony not much longer, she realized, certain her health would fare better once she maintained a clear conscience. She took a calming breath to still already overwrought nerves.
Essie grabbed her hand and pulled her into a dead run, leaving Pricilla to scramble behind. They made it to Essie and Pricilla's chamber without incident, and Pricilla darted to the large wardrobe and brought out a pair of leather half boots.
Cinderella barely contained her groan when she saw the size of them, but slipped them over her stocking-feet with nary a word. They were huge.
Cinderella met Essie's eyes, begging her silently, to let it go, but Essie's compressed lips and furrowed brows promised otherwise. "Cill, your half boots are much too large. Cinde cannot possibly stumble round in those things. Why, she might as well join the court jesters for our evening entertainment."
Pricilla gasped.
Cinderella winced.
Could Essie possibly stop there? Non. She had to grab Cinderella's foot and lift it in the air, unceremoniously. And without a single care for Cinderella's lack of acrobatic flexibility.
Essie pressed the toe of the shoe indicating, just how much space lay between her toe and the end of the shoe. Heat flooded her face when Essie's whole palm flattened it.
"Let her try mine, Cill," Essie said gently, dropping her hold on Cinderella's foot. It clapped to the floor.
Cinderella watched the emotions play across each of her sisters faces, not daring to intrude. Something else was obviously at play here.
Pricilla nodded, sending Essie off to the wardrobe. Cinderella gave Pricilla a small smile. Pricilla's thoughtful and unnerving focus did not escape Cinderella. ’Twas as blatant as a comic searing across a clear night sky.
*****
"Buongiorno, signorinas.”
Never in the world of all saints would Prince have guessed he possessed the petty demeanor of…of jealousy. He clenched a fist at his side wanted nothing more than to smash a noble fist into Alessandro's regal and perfect nose. Particularly so, when he took Cinderella's gloved hand and offered her into the open conveyance. Even Estella could not seem to hide a fierce scowl.
Prince eyed Estellarina curiously. Could it be she suffered the same complaint as he? How curious. Pasting on a bland smile he stepped forward. "Good morning, Pricilla," he said, taking her arm just as Alessandro had latched onto Cinderella's. Rather than receiving the innocent blush he'd expected, Pricilla handed him an air of something more insightful. More sagacious.
"Sir," she murmured. Oh, her tone was respectful enough but he sensed a guarded perception.
The thought unnerved him, and he struggled not to throw his arms up in frustration. Had he lost all his ability to charm, he wanted to growl. He was Prince Charming, for the sake of heaven. Surely someone considered his charms still preeminent? His gift to enthrall? His capacity to captivate throughout this region?
A flurry of twinkling sparks radiated round, catching him unawares. His quick glance up had his gaze locked into Cinderella's warm eyes. Time and voices faded. If he never found his mysterious princess…
Prince shook his head breaking the odd connection. He had to find her. He shot Emeranda another glance and found her attention fastened on Alessandro and Cinderella. Mayhap the sparks kindling the air were from her eyes?
Non. No waves of wind breezed the air. It was more a wave of heat, he decided. Very unseasonable.
A slow smile tilted his lips. Mayhap, Euthralla was his key.
*****
Cinderella spent the next hour amid gray clouds threatening an outbreak and unusual heat stream, touring another section of the gardens with her sisters. Their carriage ride ventured northeast, not so far from their visit to the lake the day before. The driver steered the carriage down a rockier path. The grass was less manicured, and the graveled road, sheltered by tress that did not seem to grow according to the normal majestic standards of uniform precision.
Other carriages dwellers followed. They stopped along the way, allowing patrons to disembark, to wander the many meandering walking trails. Prince and Alessandro had been waylaid by other guests. Frankly, Cinderella relished the reprieve. She spied them on their horses toward the front of the queue.
She and her stepsisters had chosen to walk for a bit. The bright varied foliage of hibiscus, crocus, sage and edelweiss filled the air with a fragrance that could not be described. This particular path hosted the largest pond Cinderella had yet seen. The Virgin Goddess of Hestia molded in fine detail, held Cinderella’s enthralled attention. Awed by the drapes of the goddess’s wraps, she could not tear her eyes away.
"What has you so fascinated by this figure, Cinde?” Essie asked. "Not just this one, I suppose, but they seem to all capture your attention in a way like I have never seen.” She waved her hand to indicate the wide area of the gardens. Two smaller ponds with Demeter, the natural goddess of the Harvest and Hermes, the cunning god of the Trade could be seen within walking distance.
"Well," she said slowly. "I suppose ’tis not what I see, but what I feel that takes me back to a time when my papá would pull me in his lap and regale me with stories of their mythical nature. He would lay my head to his shoulder.” She smiled softly remembering. “When he read his chest would vibrate deep with laughter, and enlighten me as to their wild antics."
"Who is this? And why does she hold a tree in her hand?" Pricilla asked.
Cinderella cocked her head toward Pricilla. Her gaze was riveted on the goddess Hestia, her curiosity genuine, not at all mocking. Cinderella supposed she might someday cease worrying of their ridicule. She turned and considered the statue in question for a moment.
"This figure represents Hestia,” she started. She turned once more to Essie and Pricilla. “The eldest daughter of Cronus and Rhea.” Cinderella paused at their blank expressions and smiled. "Well, that's neither here nor there. But Hestia personified the "fire hat.” It burned in the hearth of every home.” Cinderella adopted similar theatrics her papa had implored to capture her own attention as a child when he’d spun his tales. Theatrics that threatened send her into fits of giggles, she bit them back, yet unable to hold back a grin. “The hearth fire was only allowed to be extinguished by ritual."
Small, sweet laughs emerged from Essie and Pricilla.
Cinderella turned her gaze back onto the stone structure that looked golden even in the gray of the day. "She was worshiped in every temple and loved because of her kind, forgiving soul."
"Forgiving soul?” Pricilla whispered softly looking at the figure, her awe apparent.
"Oui. She never participated in any war or disputes."
Pricilla spun on the path to face Cinderella, taking her by surprise. She grasped her hand. "I hope you will someday find it in your heart to forgive us…me…" she said. Pricilla looked at Essie. "I have been a frightful sister, I vow.” She turned once more to Cinderella. "And stepsister. I am profoundly sorry.” Pricilla dropped her hand and stepped back.
Shock rendered Cinderella speechless, before tears of gratitude gathered at this unexpected apology. She shook her head. "You have no need to apologize, Pricilla. This past fortnight has more than made up for our differences. Someday, you may find it is I who shall be asking for your forgiveness."
"Don’t be ridiculous, Cinde. You are by far the Hestia between the three of us," Essie scolded.
"Oh, oui, bashful and always portrayed as sitting. The perfect portrait," Cinderella muttered under her breath with self-disgust. Unaccustomed sarcasm rang through, but she found she was quit
e unable to conceal it.
“What god do you suppose I might represent, Cinde?” The question from Pricilla surprised her, as did the arm slipping through her own.
“Well,” Cinderella hedged, “at the risk of offending your delicate sensibilities, Pricilla. Mayhap, you remind me of Zeus. He was the ruler of all mankind. A leader, if you will.”
“Ah, oui. I believe I may count that as a compliment,” Pricilla smiled softly, her eyes still on Hestia.
“Of the highest kind, I assure you.” She meant it too.
"Enough of this somber moodiness,” Essie said brightly, darting to the open carriage. “Let us be on our way. I believe there is an archery event scheduled to begin in less than an hour. I, for one, intend placing my wager on Pricilla. She is a crack shot. The other carriages are moving out."
*****
Prince stood at the perimeter of the west lawn, a casual observer in the afternoon's entertainments. He had yet to locate the three young women he’d grown accustomed to searching out. Their carriage had not yet returned from the garden outing. He and Alessandro had made their way back long before the others.
Prince had had his own reasons, of course. One included making certain the Italian Conte’s blasted son had impeded access to the attractive young women wandering the castle grounds these days of late.
He scanned the lawns. Servants were busy arranging targets for the upcoming archery bout and guests were starting to meander their way forth. To his annoying relief, Alessandro emerged from the west doors followed by a manservant and younger brother Niccòlo.
Set in the mirrored image of Alessandro, Niccòlo’s tall frame, dark hair and eyes would prove sound competition for his brother not so far in the future. Prince found himself very happy Niccòlo was much too young to provide any real competition at this stage of his years of ten and seven. He grimaced, pushing away the thought that Alessandro could possibly pose a threat to the Prince of Chalmers. An absurd notion.
The Wronged Princess - Book I Page 13
