Roses and Black Glass: a dark Cinderella tale (4 page)

“Maybe she’s
just stupid,” said Charlotte thoughtfully.

The three
cackled together.

“Or perhaps
she has something against us?” asked Charlotte.

“Well,
I’ve
been nothing but nice to her,” said Isabella with a sly smile.

Her mother and
sister copied the smile with their identical lips and then went back to their
soup.  They were all completely aware of the way they treated the girl.  Since
her father had passed on, they had a maid to do their complete bidding for no
pay.  It was a pleasant set-up, the three of them agreed, and they went on
living every passing day to Cindy’s disadvantage.  They felt no guilt.

4

Spending the
rest of the day alone with her chores was long, but finally the bed was reached
and Cindy hoped to treasure every moment of peaceful sleep she would partake
of.  Sleep was not an easy thing to come by in this house, but now it was
time. 

She unwound
her aching hands from their bandages, her knuckles swollen from use.  She often
wondered how many more years it would take to completely wear them away.  If
she stopped now, would they heal?  Could they be soft and youthful again? 
Perhaps it was not worth thinking about.  She slipped a few chunks of stale
cheese into Augustus’s cage and climbed into the cold bed. 

After her
father’s death, she’d been taken from her old room and moved up into the attic
– a former room for servants – to hide her away from the world. 
I am a
dirty secret
.  She slept on a wire-framed bed that groaned beneath her, and
the attic space was always either too cold or too hot, depending on the
season.  Cindy made the best of it, however, comforting herself with the
thought that none of her other family members would ever dare to be in her
room.  She closed her eyes, but her lively mind would not let her sleep.  Her
thoughts were bursting with color and memory.  

Since dinner,
her thoughts had been swimming with the remembrance of Christian.  She had met
him one day in the basement of the house – in a world far from the one he
belonged in – but he was still with her.  She had given up on ever seeing him
again long ago, yet the mention of him today had sparked a memory inside of
her.  It had been three years, but still there was little she didn’t know about
him or his agenda, because her sisters took every opportunity to speak about
him openly in front of her.

There was also
something else that Cindy knew: the boy was about to turn twenty-one.  Her
sisters had been talking about nothing else for the past few weeks.  Cindy had
wondered how many girls in town were doing the same.

Isabella and
Charlotte were talking about Christian’s big decision.  He had to choose a wife
by twenty-one.  It was a rule of the family, and if he did not comply, he would
not receive his inheritance.  Cindy wondered if either Isabella or Charlotte
really had the slightest chance of becoming his wife.  Then again, if he chose
either of them, perhaps Cindy herself would be free of him.  It would prove
without a doubt that he was just as terribly wretched as they both were.

Laying there
in the dark, she wondered if he even remembered her at all.  Surely not; what
was she thinking?  It had been three years and he was quite a well-known
gentleman with other things on his mind.  Of course he didn’t remember her.  It
was silly to even think about it.

Still, as her
eyelids fluttered, she couldn’t help but wonder if he had changed. Perhaps he
had stopped being so curious and had begun accepting responsibility.  She
supposed she could even say that she had changed as well.  She still thought in
the same way and had not changed her opinions, but she had learned to be more
silent and reserved.  She was quiet now, only speaking when she was spoken to;
she no longer had her father there to give her life.

Before I
was a dead girl, I was a force to be reckoned with.  Christian liked that.  He
told me so.

She leaned her
head over to look at the old photograph on her night stand.  She and her father
were there in old, faded brown.  The photo was more than five years old.  She
smiled slightly, thinking of all the things they had talked of – of science and
anatomy that no one else knew except them.  Now he was dead.  It was a pity –
and a waste of good intelligence – just as it would be when Christian married
one of her sisters. 

It is wrong
to think about this,
she told herself.
 

Cindy prayed
silently that the young man’s mind wouldn’t fall to uselessness, but she had
little hope in it.  As she slowly drifted into a well-deserved sleep, words
from the past drifted to her mind.

“You're
strangely beautiful…  We don’t know each other, but we can pretend, can't we?”

She smirked as
she remembered, though wondered if he could say those things about her now.

5

The dream had
come to Cindy many nights since the death of her father and her push into servant-hood. 
In fact, the dream came almost every night it seemed, deviating only slightly
from the night before.  She tossed and turned in her bed, alone between the cold
sheets.  She was disturbed by her visions.  Tonight, she saw this:

She was inside
a long room, painted from floor to ceiling in white.  She was ten years old and
she was dressed in black from her shoes to her hat.  Far in front of her was a
long, white table, on which sat a coffin, the pale exterior transitioning
almost seamlessly from the table.  Cindy approached it slowly, listening to the
organ music stinging her ears.

Reaching the
table and looking down with clasped hands, Cindy saw her mother lying deep in
the coffin.  The woman had pale skin and dark curls the same as Cindy’s.  She
was dressed in a long gown of white.  Cindy looked on in curiosity without
tears as she stared at the only thing adding color to the room – a bouquet of
dark red roses in her mother’s arms.  The color was piercing to Cindy’s eyes,
reflecting on the otherwise drab scenery.

Feeling a hand
on her shoulder, she turned briefly to look on the face of her father, who had
placed his hand there to comfort her, yet he could only look away and shield
his face from her mother.

As she looked
back at her father, he slowly began to float away from her.  Strangely, she did
not protest to his leaving and simply watched as he floated up unto the sky and
out of sight – still shielding his face.  When Cindy turned back to her
mother’s coffin, the woman’s body began to sink down into the white base as if
into a pool of milk, until nothing was left but the roses that had been gracing
her chest.

Cindy reached
to scoop them up, but the thorns cut her hands, and looking down, she saw that
she was covered in blood.  The rose petals clung to her arms because of it. 
Behind the coffin, she could see a window that showed her a strange scene. 
Upon a broad floor, she could see Christian – dancing with a demon that had
glowing eyes.  The evil thing smiled up at her with pleasure.

Cindy was
spirited onto the floor with them, watching them perform their dance.  Anger and
confusion filled her as she watched until finally the demon approached her,
holding Christian’s hand.  Taking Cindy’s hand in its own claw, the demon
placed her hand atop Christian’s and began to speak in a voice that was neither
male nor female in gender.

“It is
alright,”
the demon said.
“The smell of the roses is enough for you
both.  The day will come when it will be yours.  The sacrifice has been made.”

Cindy awoke
then.  She would always awaken at the same moment to find that it was again
morning.  There was another dreadful day ahead of her that would begin with the
preparation of breakfast.  Still though, she pondered the dream.

She felt that
the dream was unfinished, and no matter how many times it occurred, she could
never reach the end or gain any more of it.  The demon always opened its mouth
at the end, as if preparing to say something else that she never heard.  Though
those things stuck with her in the early hours of morning, as the day passed,
Cindy would begin to forget about the images completely, going on with the
suffering that came, only to remember her thoughts when the next dream recurred. 

For now, it
was time to forget.

Brushing off
the dream once more, Cindy pulled herself from the sheets to prepare for the
long day ahead.  She could feel it in the air as the fog lifted outside – this
would not be a good day.   

6

“It’s
arrived!” screamed Charlotte happily. “It’s here!  It’s here!”

Cindy did not
look up from her cleaning of the floor despite the happy cries from the next
room.  She did, however, hear Isabella come bounding down the stairs and to the
front door.

“It’s here?”
she asked excitedly, jerking the letter away from her sister.

“Hey!” shouted
Charlotte in protest, but Isabella quickly broke the wax seal on the letter and
began to read.

“Miss Isabella
and Miss Charlotte van Burren, you are cordially invited by Mr. and Mrs.
Anthony Charming to attend the twenty-first birthday celebration of their son, Mr.
Christian Charming.  The celebration will be held on the day of the 6
^th
and will begin at 6 o’clock.  The party is formal… blah blah blah!  We finally
got it!” said Isabella, jumping up happily.

The two girls
forgot about their rivalry for a moment and jumped around merrily.  Cindy
slowed the pace in which she worked, watching the scene from the corner of her
eye.

“Saving the
best for last, I suppose,” said Charlotte.

“Yes,” said
Isabella thoughtfully.  “Two days before the party…  Though I suppose Christian
should have invited us himself.  We are seeing him for lunch after all!”

Charlotte
clapped her hands, overwhelmed with excitement.  “After the picnic, we shop for
dresses!”

The girl ran
off to tell her mother of the good news, and Cindy diverted her attention back
to the floor so that Isabella would not see her interest.  It was too late. 
Isabella approached her, slapping the letter against her palm.  Cindy did not
look up.

“Well,
Cinderella,” she addressed, stopping in front of her. “I didn’t see your name
in this letter.  Looks like this town has forgotten all about you completely. 
I know you’d
love
to go to the party, wouldn’t you?”

Cindy said
nothing, but only glanced up with cold eyes.  She didn’t care.  All she wanted
was to be left alone.  The bristles of her brush scraped the floorboards.

“I’m
dreadfully sorry you can’t go,” said Isabella with fake sweetness. “It’s not as
though he would remember you anyway.  I can’t imagine you’d have much to talk
about.”

Cindy looked
down to the tip of Isabella’s shoe.  She would greatly love to spit on it, or
perhaps reach into the fireplace and throw some soot at the girl.  She knew
those things were only begging for trouble that she didn’t want. 

“Oh course,
you will be given the job of dressing us and fixing our hair for the occasion. 
You had better do it right,” she threatened.  “No tricks or you’ll have to
start all over.”

“Why should I
be forced to put make-up on you or fix your hair?  It’s not like it would help
at all.  It wouldn’t improve you in the slightest,” Cindy said, looking up.

“If you don’t
do it right,” said Isabella. “You’ll no longer have a
pet
.”

Cindy
hesitated in her brushing even though she had tried not to.  Cindy was used to
having everything that was important to her threatened, but Augustus was the
only thing remaining that was dear to her. 

“You wouldn’t
dare.  You wouldn’t want to touch the disgusting creature!” said Cindy, calling
her bluff.

“I’m sure I
could find someone who is not afraid to touch it.  Like Francis…”

Cindy breathed
deeply and ran her brush across the floor again.  Francis, Anna’s Persian cat. 
It wasn’t the first time her pet and only friend had been thrown onto the
table.  She also knew, however, that if they’d actually done away with the
beloved rat, they would have nothing left to hold against her.  Cindy said
nothing, though knowing Isabella would interpret it as victory.

As expected, Isabella
smirked triumphantly and threw the letter to the floor beside Cindy, knowing
that the girl would want to pick it up to read it.

“Work faster,
Cinderella,” she said, “and don’t miss any spots.”

Cindy listened
as Isabella’s footsteps trailed out of the room and down the hall.  After the
girl left, Cindy’s eyes drifted down to the letter.  She stared at it for only
a short moment before a wave of rage hit her and she scooped it up and pushed
the thin paper angrily beneath the dirty cleaning water in her pail.

1

The carriage
rolled onward with only the sounds of the two white horses pulling it along. 
Christian sighed as he peered out the small window.  For the past two weeks, he
had been making what was known widely through Greenhaven as ‘
The Charming
Round’
.  It made him sick to think that this course had a title, but it had
come to be called this for the four brothers ahead of him who had made this
same path.  They, however, were good-natured enough to handle this ridiculous
facade.  He was not.

He was
traveling to different houses throughout the town, dining with different ladies
and families that he cared nothing about.  His mother accompanied him along
this trail of days and he could honestly say that he had never been at a table
so many times with his mother in the whole of his life.  Today was not the
first dinner he would attend, but neither was it the last.  This luncheon was
certainly the most dreaded for Christian, yet strangely, it was also the one he
looked forward to most.

Time had
passed on the young man.  He’d changed with more than just the hair he’d
decided to grow on his face.  No longer was he able to look for the laughter in
ignorance to keep him going.  He had grown quite tired of everything and
everyone.  The same faces, all smiling at him, no longer made him feel anything
– not even a taste of victory over them.  Sometimes, he still found Isabella
and Charlotte amusing, but probably not today; he only wanted to be back at
home, smoking away the afternoon.

He sat there
now as the carriage bounced gently up the path, more emotionless than before,
letting the gentle wind blow through his hair as his blue eyes searched the
area.

From across
the carriage, his mother eyed him from underneath her grand hat.

“Christian,
darling, is something wrong?” she asked, fanning herself.

The young man
raised his eyes slowly, the cold blue flashing in the sunlight.

“Why must I do
this?” he asked.

The woman
across from him shrugged, wondering why he would bring this up now after they’d
already been at it for days.  It was almost done, for Christ sakes! 

“This is
simply how your father and I would have you do it,” she explained. 

That reply was
much too simple for Christian.  His mother would have liked daughters so that
she could play matchmaker, but since she had been given five sons instead, she
found that she had been given an even greater advantage in that.  There was
more fame in that than daughters somehow, and Christian was her last chance to
shine.

“Does it make
you feel important to parade me around like this?”

“Enough,
Christian!” his mother scolded. “I will not have you act today as you did
yesterday!  You were quite rude to the Gerards!”

“I think
you’re
the only one who noticed, mother,” he said.

The lady shook
her head. “Whether or not that is the case, I will not have you embarrassing me
today.  These young women we are going around to visit are very lovely, from
upstanding families, and all would be fine choices for you to pick a wife.”

“Why don’t we
make the rounds in the slums as well then?  I’m sure that
they
could use
the money I bring more than those spoilt van Burren harlots.”

“That is quite enough of this!” shouted his mother,
ending his argument and leaving him to sit silently, staring back out at her.

“You know the
conditions,” she continued calmly. “You will do what we say if you intend to
see any of your inheritance.”

Threats.  No
love.  Christian saw it now, just as he had been seeing it for years.

“Perhaps then
I don’t want my inheritance,” he said, folding his hands.

His mother
shook her head with an uncaring eye.

“What?  So you
can sit all day studying those disgusting books of yours?”

She spoke of his
anatomy books.  His mother was repulsed by them, but he couldn’t get enough. 

“Don’t be a
fool, Christian. You won’t be anything without that money.”

Christian sat
back against the seat in defeat, crossing his arms before him.  He hated it,
but it was true: he was being forced to marry someone like his mother.  They
all thought that money and looks were the most important things in the world. 
He swore he never would, but it was inevitable.  He was destined to be his father:
walked on and unstable in every way.  He would be like his brothers before him.

The carriage
came to a halt in front of the park by a stream.  He would admit that though he
dreaded the company, the scenery was lovely – though it hardly lifted his
spirits.  It had been Mrs. Madison’s idea that they have a picnic in the park
instead of dining indoors, since it was such a fine day.  He looked up to see
the woman now, coming towards the carriage to greet them both.  He smirked
slightly when he saw her.  Her age was showing, though she was trying to hide
it.  She had not aged as well as his own mother.

“Mrs. Charming,”
Anna addressed with a respectable bow in acknowledgment. “It is absolutely
splendid to have you and your handsome son to lunch with us today.”

“Thank
you
,
Anna, for allowing our company,” said Mrs. Charming graciously.

Christian was
quite tired of this already, though he had just arrived.  Despite his
discomfort and annoyance, he quickly slipped into his public guise – tolerant,
yet mordant only to his own understanding.

“Mrs. Madison,”
he addressed with a short bow. “Looking as lovely as possible today, aren’t
we?”

“Only my best
for you and your mother,” she said.

“I’m sure it
is,” Christian noted with a spell-binding smile.

His mother
gave a disapproving look.  Having had to deal with Christian’s hidden rudeness
for quite some time, she was usually quick to the way he thought.

The two women
walked on before Christian and out toward the picnic site.  The young man
lingered a bit, but only just long enough to fall behind them so that he
wouldn’t have to hear their idle banter first-hand.  It was sickening to hear
the conversation of women.  Utterly sickening.

Hoping to
continue the trek alone, Christian was disappointed to hear the footsteps
across the grass behind him.  He sighed in annoyance, but stopped his pace.  It
would soon have been interrupted nonetheless. 

 “Christian,
there you are!” said Charlotte as she approached.

“We’ve been
waiting for you,” said Isabella flatly. “Why don’t you come join us?”

Christian
offered what little smile he could and turned to greet them.  Acting more of a
gentleman than he was or would like to be, he offered his arm to Charlotte and
ignored the other sister.  Isabella curled her lips at him when she smiled
curtly, while Charlotte only smiled sweetly and took Christian’s arm to lead
him to the site where the food was spread.

“Oh, Christian!”
the younger girl began, “I must tell you about what happened earlier!  It was
horrible!  I was simply minding my own business when–”

Christian
found his way to the picnic blanket and sat down with Charlotte as Isabella
drifted behind them and made her way slowly and sulkily.  The annoyance had
finally stopped when Charlotte had finished her story that Christian wasn't
listening to.  Now, everything was silent as he stared out over the picnic
scene, already completely dressed and spread with food.  The drinks were poured
and the plates were set. No servant needed to be present.  Christian’s mother
may have been fooled by the van Burrens’ desperate attempts to look prosperous,
but he was not.  They had covered up everything quite well and Mrs. Charming no
doubt thought it was quite sophisticated.

“Why Anna,
what a lovely set-up you have here!  It was a splendid idea to dine in the
park, and you really must commend your kitchen servant on this fine set-up."

“It was
actually Isabella’s idea to dine here.  It’s such a lovely day!  My servant
then insisted on setting up early so that she might get back to her duties at
the house,” Anna explained. “She is not here to serve us at this time.”

“She must be
quite the avid worker,” said Samantha, quite impressed.

“Oh yes,”
Charlotte chimed in. “She’s very loyal.”

The five of
them began helping themselves to the food.  Samantha found all of this quite
amusing and exciting, feeling as though she was fixing the meal herself – this
from a woman who couldn’t even fry an egg.  Christian touched none of the food,
even after Charlotte offered repeatedly.  The man’s gaze was frozen on Isabella
who casually sipped her tea as he glared.  Finally, she caught sight of him and
peered back with confused eyes.

“What?” she
asked innocently, giving a sweet smile.

She thought he
was only staring at her for the way she looked, but as he peered on from
beneath his dark brows, he didn’t change his harsh expression in the slightest.

“You know
what
,”
he said simply, finally lifting his tea glass.

Isabella stared back at him in confusion a moment, but
after a moment of wondering, she gave up, finding it impossible to read into
his mind.  She gulped quietly and looked away.

“Did you
receive your invitation?” Samantha asked, not paying attention to the
controversy between her son and Isabella.

“Yes,” said
Charlotte, neglecting to mention that they had only received it yesterday.  “We
would be very happy to attend.”

“That is
good,” Mrs. Charming said. “I feared that you wouldn’t receive it in time.  The
messenger swore he would only carry very few messages at once!”

He was
encouraged by a bit of bribery
, Christian mused to himself, taking a drink
to hide his smirk.

“I am simply
glad that you remembered us,” said Isabella with a winning smile.

Christian
shook his head.  What wouldn’t he give for a pistol at this moment?  He could
end his misery – kill himself or kill her.  Either would do.

Samantha
however, seemed quite pleased with Isabella’s smile and personality.

“How
wonderful!  They are such wonderful young ladies, aren’t they Christian?”

“Of course,
mother,” he said. “Quite entertaining.”

“Why thank
you, Christian,” said Charlotte, pleased.

Isabella,
however, could see his insincerity.  She continued to fake her smile, but
refused to look at him for long.

“Congratulations
on turning twenty-one,” Anna said. “I hear the party will be quite the celebration.”

Samantha
smiled proudly.  The event had been planned by her.  Her moment of glory only
lasted a moment, however, before her son ruined it.

“An elaborate
party to celebrate my parents kicking me out of their house,” he mused. 
“Sounds like a grand time to me.”

“Christian!”
his mother scolded, looking embarrassed.  “You know that isn’t true.  He’ll be
given Blackfield manor – my father’s house.”

“The one in
the countryside of Harrington Banks?  That sounds majestic, doesn’t it girls?”
Anna’s eyes flashed like two silver coins.  “Clearly your mother favors you,
Christian, to have given you the biggest estate.”

She only
saved the biggest prize for last.  We’re all having to jump through hoops to
get it.

“I know you
must be tired of talking about it, Samantha,” Anna went on, “but do tell me how
you have decorated for the party.  I must know if our dresses will clash.”

Enough of
this.

Christian
pulled himself up from the blanket abruptly, having heard as much of this as he
was willing to.  He didn’t want to talk about this now.  It depressed him
greatly.

“If you ladies
would excuse me, I think I need a smoke.  Is that alright?” he asked Anna
curtly.

Anna was
frozen for a moment by his harsh speech and domineering stare, but finally she
shook it away.

“Yes, of
course,” she sputtered.

He had pulled
the black cigarette as soon as he'd begun walking away, only waiting a short
moment before lighting it. 

Isabella
watched Christian depart and then turned back to face the other two ladies. 
Samantha was watching her son go with an angry scowl.  Looking at her own
mother, Isabella noticed the look on
her
face.  The woman glanced at
Christian and made a head motion towards him.  Finally, the task at hand hit
Isabella.

“Oh!  Right,”
she said, standing. “Come along, Charlotte.” 

“Oh, of
course,” said Charlotte, promptly putting down the dinner roll she was about to
bite into. “Wait, Christian!  We’ll come with you!”

The two girls
bounded after the departing man and followed down to the water.  Mrs. Charming
watched them all go in disapproval and apologetically turned back to her
hostess.

“I’m
dreadfully sorry about the way he’s acting.  So embarrassing!  Something has
gotten into him lately.”  She shook her head.  “Four brothers before him and
none of
them
acted this way.  Thank God he’s the last.”

“Young people
are quite hard to deal with sometimes,” said Anna. “But I must admit my girls
are of that special perfect few who are very obedient.”

“I don’t doubt
it at all,” Samantha said.  “They are both delightful girls.  I must ask
however – and it just occurred to me the other day that I wanted to ask it –
but whatever happened to the Madison girl?  Didn’t your late husband have a
daughter of his own?”

Anna had known
that one day she would be forced the answer this question.  She had no worries;
it was all planned out.

“Sadly, she is
no longer with us,” Anna said.

“Do you mean
that she’s died?” Samantha asked, putting a calming hand to her chest.

“Oh no, of
course not.  The girl left shortly after her father passed and went to live
with an aunt and uncle in Massachusetts.”