She opened her mouth to say that she did feel for him—as a brother and friend. But he held up his hand.
“I wish you all the happiness in the world.”
He left her then, his dark green jacket disappearing into the crowd, leaving Tilly with many unsaid words sitting on her tongue. She swallowed them and turned, nearly bumping in to her coachman.
“Mallory!” she exclaimed, and he looked at her with an expression she couldn’t identify. “Get back to the carriage. You aren’t needed here.” Tilly moved to step around him, but he stopped her.
“I . . .” His voice was deep and strong, and he appeared to be shocked when it left his mouth. “I must protect you.”
“If I need protection from anything, it’s from your kind.” Tears stung her eyes as she thought of her lost friendship with Rodger. “Now please, return to the coach.”
“It was not my kind that killed the white mouse,” Mallory said quietly.
But Tilly didn’t hear. The voice of Indigo Bromley swept over the meadow, sufficiently stopping any chatter and making heads whip around towards the platform.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Moon Master’s Ball! Tonight I will introduce to you a man of mystery and magic.” Bromley paced about the wooden stage, his colorful coattails swishing behind him. “He has chosen to reveal himself to you all this evening, and only for this evening will you be permitted to know him.” Bromley stopped and winked at a group of plump old ladies who had forced themselves to the front of the crowd. “I give you the glorious, the stupendous Moon Master!”
He disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving a lone figure standing where he had been. The crowd went silent in anticipation as the smoke cleared, giving Tilly a complete view of the Moon Master’s tall form.
As he stepped into the light, she saw that he was no longer the broken man confined in an endless wagon. He was strong, standing tall above the people of Winslow with grace and authority. He wore a coat of dusky blue and silver that shimmered in the moonlight and emphasized his cool eyes. Those eyes flitted across the crowd, lighting a moment longer on Tilly than on anyone else.
Then he spoke:
“Welcome, dear people of Winslow. You have supported this Circus throughout many years, and for this, I thank you.” Placing his hand over his chest, he dipped his head in acknowledgement. “As you well know, I am the Moon Master, and I invite you to celebrate life, freedom, and courage here tonight in this colorful place.”
The Moon Master smiled, causing women to swoon all across the meadow. Then with painful slowness, he raised his arm, looked up at the sky, and snapped his fingers. The light of the moon was snuffed out as though it were nothing more than one of the weak candles flickering in Apple Tree Inn.
The crowd gasped in astonishment. An inky blackness settled around the people of Winslow, and Tilly could hear the panic rushing into their voices as they asked what was happening.
But before the panic truly took hold, a light shone in front of them. It was only a small golden sliver at first, but it grew by the second. The curtains of Bromley’s Circus were opening, and the people of Winslow rushed towards the light, thrilled anew with their beloved Circus.
Tilly followed behind, not desiring to be crushed by the wild townsfolk crowding around her. For a brief moment she wondered where Mallory was. Probably already in the Circus, she thought, skulking around in some dark corner.
Pushing all thoughts of the rat-man aside, she lifted the skirts of her ballgown, displaying her crystal slippers, and entered the tent. Endless rows of tables had been set up under the big top. There were no odd acts taking place, and members of the Circus troupe looked relatively normal as they offered dainty entrees to the villagers.
A man offered Tilly what looked like a baked mushroom wrapped in lemongrass, but she declined, her stomach suddenly in knots. What was she to do here? It was certainly a strange night at the Circus; though really, when had the Circus been anything but strange?
“I hoped I would see you tonight.” A silky voice spoke the same words Rodger had said earlier, yet with a completely different meaning. Tilly turned at the sound of his voice, thinking that while Rodger had sounded apprehensive and worried, the Moon Master sounded earnest and thankful.
“Hello, Jasper.” Tilly fiddled with her hands, feeling the absence of one of Lord Hollingberry’s letters to play with.
His eyes lit up. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard my name. I had almost forgotten it.” The Moon Master offered her what was barely recognizable as a smile. “I am glad you were first to say it.”
Tilly squirmed under his unwavering gaze. “Oh. Well. I’m glad I know it now. I felt strange calling you the Moon Master.” She laughed half-heartedly at herself and crossed her arms to ensure that they wouldn’t hang ungracefully.
“You now know my sad story then.” He placed his hand lightly on her back to direct her towards a table serving a sparkling red drink.
Tilly nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry about A—Aminia,” she stuttered, wondering if she should have brought up the fairy godmother.
“That is the saddest part of my story,” he stated. “Losing someone close to you is more haunting than a life of cursed solitude.” Jasper picked up a glass and filled it with the drink, handing it to Tilly.
She took it. “What is this?” she asked, inspecting the different berries floating inside.
“Dewdrop punch,” he said. “The berries are gathered early in the morning in Winslow Wood and are made into this drink. The sparkles you see are the dewdrops themselves.” His eyes smiled at the incredulous look she gave him.
Tilly took a cautious sip and then another. It tasted like the early morning air one breathes in on cool days when the fog is still drifting about the earth. Tilly had never thought such a taste could exist, but as she sipped the drink again, it transported her to an image of ripe berries frosted over with dew.
The sound of a clock chiming ten echoed across the tent, causing Tilly nearly to spill her drink. She set the cup down on a table and noticed that Jasper’s posture had gone stiff with tension.
“Miss Higgins?” The Moon Master’s silky voice made Tilly’s eyes snap up to his face. “Would you care to dance?”
It was then, as Jasper led Tilly towards the dance floor, she noticed that the Circus no longer looked like a Circus at all. The tent was gloriously draped in luxurious cloths of ruby, gold, emerald green, and peacock blue. It looked like the dance hall of a grand palace. An orchestra started playing a simple waltz, and Jasper led Tilly through the steps. He held her with only one arm, his left arm hanging limp at his side. She tripped several times, Jasper’s constant grace making her feel inadequate.
“Why,” Tilly asked to cover a misstep, “did Mrs. Carlisle imprison you?”
His arm tightened about her waist. “She imprisons everyone who does not give her what she wishes.”
She looked around at the people serving the villagers. “You mean everyone else in the Circus is captured as well?”
“Sadly, yes.” He nodded and spoke no more on the topic.
Tilly looked at his lifeless arm. “What happened . . .” She paused, unsure if she should finish. “What happened to your arm?”
Jasper sighed but continued to lead her flawlessly through the dance. “Many years ago, in the black of night, a little girl strayed away from her parents. When she happened by my wagon, I watched her, enjoying her innocence of the horrors of life.” His voice was entrancing as he told his story. “I sensed that she was special. That one day, she might even be able to help me.” He looked pointedly at her. “But my enemy sensed this as well.”
Tilly’s breath began to come in shallow puffs. “Stop, please.” She didn’t want to know where this story was going.
“She was attacked by a strange, large rat, and I reached out my arm in an attempt to help her,” he continued, heedless of her attempts to silence him. “Since Isla Carlisle cursed me to never be able to leave the wagon, my arm was crus
hed instantly, and the girl”—Jasper looked sadly at the scar on Tilly’s neck—“was left with a scar that changed her life. Remember, Tilly.” He drew her close and whispered in her ear. “Your enemy is my enemy.”
She pulled away from him and stumbled from the dance floor. All her life she had thought she was the only person who knew of that scar and the horrible story that went with it. Jasper moved to follow her, but a glistening mass of pink silk got in his way.
Drosselyn stood before him, gazing up at the tall man from beneath her dark eyelashes. With the look of a cat who knew it would get its way in a moment, she held out her hand. Tilly, watching from a distance, saw color rise to Jasper’s cheeks. Was he blushing? Or did he flush with anger?
Tilly held back, observing as he began to dance with Drosselyn, wondering what part she played in Mrs. Carlisle’s evil, trying to recall details of Caroline’s story. Soon the clock chimed eleven, reminding her that Caroline had mentioned something happening at twelve. But her brain felt strangely fuzzy. Finding her appetite, Tilly sampled the delicacies being served, hoping food would fill the emptiness she felt when watching Jasper with Drosselyn.
“Enjoying yourself, darling?”
Hearing Mrs. Carlisle’s voice behind her, Tilly spun around, barely able to swallow the mushroom she’d been chewing. “You’re not welcome here,” she stated flatly.
Mrs. Carlisle chortled. “I’d imagine I’m not.” She gazed upon Jasper and Drosselyn. “Look at them. Such a lovely couple, and so completely in love.” The old woman turned her gloating gaze back to Tilly. “He will be hers before the night is over.”
She took a glass of dewdrop punch and sipped it. Then she set down her drink and looked at Tilly with her awful, rodent-like eyes. “You should leave now if you ever want to lead a normal life. You can stay with your godmother, Mrs. Gregson, if ever she wakes up.” When Tilly didn’t move, she snapped, “Now, before that chance expires.”
A whirlwind of thoughts rushed through Tilly’s head. Lord Hollingberry counted on her to save his godson, and she owed it to herself to help a man who had suffered at the hands of evil. Just as she had suffered all those years ago. And Scatter . . . the patient little mouse whose death had been useless.
Just as useless as Jasper’s life would be if she didn’t save him.
“I’ll never leave,” she said.
Mrs. Carlisle shrugged. “Your choice.”
The silvery chime of the clock rang again, alerting Tilly that it was midnight. Jasper left the dance floor and ran towards her. He barely had enough time to reach her and whisper, “Be brave!” before the lights extinguished all across the enormous tent.
Pandemonium broke out as people ran into each other, screaming and frantic without the moonlight or light from the tent. It was pitch black, but Tilly stayed where she was, too frightened to move and wondering where Jasper was.
Then she saw a light. Not a familiar golden or silvery light like the sun or the moon, but a red light. Two red orbs floating in the air close together. She knew instantly that it was the light of a rat’s eyes, and she backed away, terror ramming in her throat.
“Silly girl!” a raspy voice uttered. “Thinking you could defeat me!”
Tilly collapsed to the ground, crawling away backwards in a final attempt to escape the rat.
“Did you really think he could ever be yours?” the rat asked. “He is Drosselyn’s and only hers, you filthy little swine. I should have destroyed you that night long ago!”
Tilly screamed when she saw the eyes rise up into the air, imagining the rat pouncing on her as she crouched defenseless in the darkness.
But it never descended upon her, for a second pair of red eyes joined the first rat’s; the two beasts collided in mid-air, grunting and squealing as they fell to the ground. Tilly scrounged desperately around in the blackness, hoping to find a fork or knife with which to defend herself, but she found nothing.
Then and there, although her heart pounded desperately, Tilly realized that this was her time to free herself and Jasper from the hateful, wicked godmother who had kept them both in bondage for so many years. She stood, resolutely bracing herself.
Taking a step towards the scuffling, shrieking noise of battle, she saw a faint light peep out from beneath her skirt. Another step, and the light grew. Tilly’s glass slippers were glowing! Moving closer and trying not to think of what she was about to do, she raised her foot, aiming the pointed heel of the crystal slipper towards the larger of the two creatures squirming on the ground. With all her might, she plunged the crystal heel down into the heart of her opponent.
A dreadful squeal sliced through the tent and echoed throughout the silence of Winslow village.
14
Slowly, as if afraid to come back too soon, the candles in the tent flickered to life, lighting up a huge, hairy rat much larger and uglier than a Dorian Rat. A crystal slipper was embedded in its chest.
With a death rattle, the rat changed form, melting from a horrible creature into an even more disgusting woman. And then the body of Mrs. Carlisle faded away until it was nothing but dust on the grass. Tilly’s lone slipper, which had slid from her foot after she stabbed the rat, now sat pure and untainted by the grotesque godmother’s blood.
Tilly stumbled backwards, tripped, and sat down hard. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. All in one night she had faced and killed her greatest fear, and the sense that her world would be safe again flooded her heart with relief.
As her senses slowly returned, Tilly heard heavy panting. Turning, she saw Mallory crouched nearby with long, bloody scratches running down his arms and chest. Not bothering to stand, Tilly crawled over to where he sat and hugged him, apologizing and thanking him over and over for protecting her in the darkness.
All around them, terrified townsfolk ran to escape the Circus, not wanting to be trapped in midnight shadows again. They flowed past like a brook weaving its way around a pebble, and Tilly watched them go. Among them she saw the familiar forms of Ellen and Daphne hurrying away, and, between the girls, someone she knew all too well. Rodger had a protective arm around each of her friends. At the entrance he let go of the girls and ushered them out of the Circus, then turned around to see if anyone else needed assistance. His eyes met Tilly’s, and he rushed towards her, fighting his way through the fleeing crowds.
“Are you all right?” he asked once near, shoving a fallen table away and kneeling down to Tilly’s level.
Finding it hard to look him in the eyes, she nodded reassuringly. “I’m fine.” Only then did she realize that Mallory was no longer beside her. How had he vanished so completely?
Rodger tugged on her hand, encouraging her to stand up. She rose awkwardly, the lack of a second slipper disrupting her balance.
“Let’s leave this place.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and began to tow her towards the exit.
“No, Rodger, I’m fine.” Tilly slipped out of his grasp and looked sadly at her old friend. “You go on. Take care of Ellen and Daphne.”
“Tilly,” he spoke her name softly. “Always you’ve been afraid of the Circus. Now I can’t seem to get you away from it.”
Tilly smiled sadly at the irony of the situation.
“You’ve been up to something these past days. Tell me what it is,” he persisted.
She shook her head. “It’s too much to explain right now. Go on, Rodger. Leave. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“What?” He took a step towards her. “No. I’ll never leave you.”
She thought her heart must be cracking slowly in two. “I . . . Rodger, I meant what I said earlier. There’s nothing . . .” She closed her eyes and chose her words carefully. “There’s nothing between us but friendship.”
Rodger looked down at his boots. “You really believe that?”
She nodded slowly. “I do.”
He looked up at her, the familiar twinkle barely visible in his eyes. “Well, then.” He offered her
a rueful smile. “Whatever you say.” He turned to leave, intending to catch up with Ellen and Daphne and escort them home.
“Rodger!” Tilly called after him and he turned, eyebrows raised. “I’ll see you at Caroline’s tomorrow night.” She smiled, hoping he would do the same.
“’Course you will!” he responded. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” With a roguish wink, he followed the crowd out of the Circus, a bit of dash returned to his bearing.
“No! Please, I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean any of it!”
Dreadful wails fell upon Tilly’s ears, and she turned to see who was screaming so desperately. Drosselyn clawed frantically at Jasper’s arm. He wrenched himself out of her grasp, and she collapsed on the grassy ground.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” She buried her face in her delicate hands.
Jasper looked down at her and sighed. “I forgive you.”
Drosselyn’s sobs quieted, and she looked up at him hopefully. “You . . . you mean—”
He cut her off, saying, “I mean nothing but that. I forgive you, Drosselyn. That is all.” When her piercing wails began again, Jasper walked away, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking downward. His eyes lit up, however, when he saw Tilly limping towards him.
“Tilly,” he said, reaching out to take her hands as he met her halfway. “How can I ever thank you for what you’ve done tonight?”
“I was bound by Mrs. Carlisle as much as you.” She couldn’t help smiling at his tousled clothes and hair. Caroline hadn’t lied when she said there was a certain charm about Jasper.
“That girl really did love me, I think,” Jasper said suddenly, glancing back at the heartbroken Drosselyn. “A strange, twisted love. But strong enough that she wished her fairy godmother would enslave me until I agreed to be hers.” He shuddered.
Tilly gently squeezed his hands . . . and suddenly realized that she held both his hands. “Your arm!” she cried in delight.
Five Glass Slippers: A Collection of Cinderella Stories Page 36
