“Miss. DeMontford, I am sure that if I offended you-”
“Offended me?” I interrupted him, though I knew I should not, I was just quite incensed at his ridiculous understatement. “Indeed, Bradbury, you are in earnest, I am sure. You do not see that... that you could just as easily break my heart as you could breathe in and out.”
He did not understand and it was difficult for me to blame him in one way. In another, I was so angry that he could not see the damage he did to me. Perhaps I had not made my feelings so very clear before now, but then I could easily say the same of Bradbury. His own confession had been years in the making, and I had hardly been given ample opportunity to respond. The first chance I actually had to speak with him on the subject, he was the one to walk away. I am sure he was hurting at the time, but he could not have failed to notice my own pain, made so apparent by my desperate tears. Such I was crying again now, quite without realising it at first.
“Dear Emelia, I did not...” Bradbury began and stopped again just as quickly.
His expression was such to show his complete confusion in such a moment. Our position here, standing in the street, myself in tears again and our relationship being so undefined. It was all very much the wrong place and the wrong time. It reminded me of where I really should be and the importance of it. My hand came up to wipe the tears from my cheeks, and I took the deepest breath I could manage. Composure regained, I spoke.
“Bradbury, now is entirely the wrong time and place for any kind of conversation such as we were having in the gardens early this morning,” I told him definitely. “Proposals and the like are the furthest thing from my mind, at least in such a situation where I myself am required to give any answers.”
“I understand,” he said, nodding along. “The prince will be waiting for you, no doubt.”
“Perhaps he will,” I agreed. “However, his wait must be a long one, I am afraid,” I went on to explain. “Bradbury, as I tried to tell you before, I have no wish to marry the prince, and I am certain he has no wish to make me his bride either. I know where to find the young lady he seeks, and I wish to help her to her rightful place as the princess she herself is destined to be.”
Further shock filled Bradbury’s face at the sound of such a speech and I didn’t wonder at it. It was all entirely far-fetched to him, I am sure, and yet he must believe me, or there really was no point to anything else said or done between us.
“Truly, Bradbury, I do wish you to say you believe me. For if your feelings for me run as deeply as you professed...” I said awkwardly, looking anywhere but into his eyes. “You ought to believe me,” I repeated.
There was a long silence, too long to my mind, and yet I dare not move nor speak again until he did. His hand at my shoulder startled me enough that I glanced up and immediately met his gaze. Never had Bradbury looked at me in such a way, with such an intensity in his sparkling blue eyes as to quite take my breath away. It was the moment he proposed to me all over again, and I hadn’t the means to say or do anything.
Gently, he urged me to move. We were both hidden from the neighbours’ view by the high hedges of my home within three steps, and finally he spoke.
“Darling, Emelia, I could no sooner truly doubt your word than... than fly to the moon,” he told me with a rarely seen but genuine smile. “If you say that you are not the woman the prince seeks to be his bride, that such an idea is abhorrent to you, then I do. I believe you,” he promised.
His fingers squeezing my shoulder still, his blue eyes shining into mine, and his sincere assurance that he took me at my word. It was all too much. The laughter that escaped my throat was unexpected even to my own ears, borne of nerves and relief, and a hundred other emotions I should never have been able to name then, or even now, as I recall the moment with perfect clarity.
“You believe me,” I forced out at length. “Then I pray that you will help me, Bradbury, for so much happiness depends upon my actions today. Far more than just yours and mine, I fear.”
“I cannot profess to understand your mission,” he said, shaking his head then, propriety catching up to him apparently as his hand dropped away from my arm. “However, if you need my assistance, dear Emelia, I am yours to use as you will.”
A blush crept to my cheeks quite unbidden at such a passionate remark, and yet I forced any and all thoughts away that did not pertain to the issue at hand. Cinderella still required my assistance, our assistance, and she would have it, without delay.
Chapter 9
It has often been said that two heads are better than one in any situation that might require intelligence. Bradbury was a learned man, and I have hardly ever been lacking in aptitude myself. Still, when it came to forming a plan to save a damsel in distress, we were both of us quite out of our depth.
Not a person in town batted an eye at the sight of us walking together. It would not be our first walk of the kind, though more often than not we would be accompanied by Alexa or even Aunt Beatrice. Bradbury was so very much a family acquaintance and a respected man. Not a person who knew us would suspect we were anything to each other but great friends. Such I hoped it should remain for the time being, for a much greater task was at hand.
It seemed Bradbury was not entirely in a position to speak at that moment. Such a look of concentration was upon his countenance as I had never seen before. Indeed, he seemed as eager to help Cinderella in her plight as I myself, but then I doubted he cared so much for that young lady’s welfare as my own. I might have smiled if I was not so distressed for poor Cinderella. I wondered at what her life had been, what it was now. Her parents must indeed have passed away as mine had, and instead of being taken in by kindly relations, she had been ill-used and continued to be so. I was incredibly lucky, I realised all over again in that moment, and refused to ever forget it for the rest of my days.
As we turned the corner into another street, my hand briefly upon Bradbury’s arm brought him to a halt beside me. In actuality, I urged him to retreat a few important steps so that we might be out of sight of the house across the way. This was the one, the very place where Cinderella was hidden away. It was the last piece of information the fairy godmother had given me before she disappeared, and now, here we were.
I could never explain how the plan came to me. The sight of the house seemed to spur me into action and in a moment, I was imparting my idea to Bradbury in hurried whispered tones that necessitated us leaning in that much closer to each other than we ever had before. He had to have noticed, though I refused to acknowledge it myself. Cinderella must be our priority for now, and everything else could come later.
“Emelia, as much as I see that your plan is sound, I am not at all comfortable in lying to these good people about my intentions,” he told me desperately.
“Bradbury, indeed, I should not ask you to do such a thing were the cause not so greatly important!” I urged him. “The women we are dealing with are not so kind as my aunt nor as innocent as my cousin. They have been unnecessarily cruel to a poor girl only my own age. She needs our help, Bradbury, the rules of society and decency be damned for all but a few minutes!”
My impassioned speech had been quite enough to convince him, I knew from the smile on his lips long before he interrupted me.
“Darling, Emelia. Were we anywhere where we might not be seen I... I am sure I should have to kiss you,” he told me, with such a look in his eyes as to make a shiver run through me.
The next moment, he looked as if he wished it all unsaid, though I doubted it was because he would be sorry to impart to me my first real kiss. He had embarrassed himself and was entirely certain he had caused me to feel awkward as well. I wished to tell him nothing could be further from the truth, but my voice would not comply. My mind whirled a moment, and then just as quickly settled to the task at hand. The order of my priorities must be maintained. It was what I had been saying when he made his sudden declaration, and was no less important now than before.
“We shall have
all the time in the world to deal with our own feelings once Cinderella is saved,” I assured him, tugging on his sleeve. “Now, let us go and do what we must.”
We parted ways then, Bradbury going towards the front entrance to the house, whilst I headed off the opposite way.
It had occurred to me on seeing the home of dear Cinderella and her wicked step family, that I knew exactly how to get around to the back of said house without ever being noticed. All homes had a tradesmen’s entrance, which would no doubt be Cinderella’s own point of access if she were kept as a slave. The back of the house would comprise the kitchens, large cupboards in which cleaning items were kept, storage spaces, and access to the cellar. Cinderella was most likely to have been locked in one of these places, out of sight and out of mind, whilst the duke sought out the prince’s love.
Whilst Bradbury distracted the ladies of the house at the front door or in the parlour, with talk of lessons he could offer them and compliments to make them smile, I must find the only true lady in the house and rescue her.
The back door was not locked, in fact, it appeared to have been propped open on purpose. One could only assume it was to let out the terrible smell of burning from the kitchen. I had to suppose that if the family had locked up the servant girl, they were trying to do for themselves, and failing miserably. It did not matter, of course. My mission was clear, and I was only grateful to find easy access into the home of Cinderella.
I dare not venture too far into the house but had to make some sort of investigation if I was ever going to find the damsel in distress. There were no sounds to be heard at first, no obvious calls for help or even crying. I searched all about the kitchen, mindful not to disturb the pots and pans strewn about for fear they might make a noise and alert the owners of the house. The pantry was unlocked and contained no prisoners, and so I carefully opened the next door and stepped through. After the kitchen came a dark hallway which I carefully crept down.
I was startled by a sudden burst of false laughter, but not so much as to make me stumble. Clearly, Bradbury was much better at engaging the ladies of the house than he ever assumed he could be. It was difficult not to feel a little jealousy bubble inside me, but I soon pushed it aside, especially when I got closer to the door at the other end of the hallway and heard a different sound.
Somebody was crying, and there was no doubt in my mind that it must indeed be Cinderella. I thought to call to her, to tell her all would be well, but did not trust that my voice would not be heard by others. My eyes searched the door before me and studied the padlock that held it tightly shut. I was all but certain the poor girl’s step-mother must hold the key, and could not think of any way to get a hand on it at all.
My mind whirled with possibilities a moment. I ran through every possible solution I could think of, every book I had studied that might help me. A key was only a metal object that manoeuvred the gears of a lock. Such a thing might be improvised in the absence of the original, I was sure. In no time at all, these thoughts led me to be on my knees at the door, a knife and fork from the kitchen in my hands. I might ruin the cutlery and was no doubt soiling my dress, but my goal was to be reached at all costs, for the sake of myself and moreover poor Cinderella.
I honestly think I had quite stopped breathing when after a few minutes the lock finally clicked over and gave way. The door came open with the weight of Cinderella falling through onto the floor. She had to have been leaning against her only route of escape, praying for a miracle. I would hardly call myself by such a term, but so it seemed, as she peered up at me with shock.
“Do not speak,” I begged her in a whisper, already concerned that the sound of my helping her be free might have been heard by her captors. “We are here to help you,” I insisted, reaching down a hand to help her up from the ground.
Cinderella wore rags, her hands and face were smudged with dirt, and she looked nothing of the lady she had been on the night of the ball. Still, I knew she was the one. The fairy godmother had said as much, and even in her current state, I was certain the prince would recognise her.
On her feet at last, she did as I asked, staying silent as she followed me out through the back door and out to the road running behind her house.
“I don’t understand,” she told me then. “I do not know you and yet you came to set me free.”
“Cinderella, your fairy godmother paid me a visit,” I explained quickly. “My name is Emelia DeMontford, and through some rather inconvenient coincidence, a mistake has been made. The duke, as well as my family, have it in their heads that I am the woman the prince is to marry, when in fact it is you.”
“Me?” she gasped in apparent surprise. “But he cannot. I am just a scullery maid,” she said sadly, displaying her ragged dress to me, though of course I was already far too aware of the state of her.
“But you were not on the night of the ball,” I said definitely. “You were the beauty I saw dancing with the prince that night, the one who left a glass slipper behind, were you not?”
At that, Cinderella smiled.
“I was. I did leave one slipper behind,” she told me, looking back over her shoulder a moment. “One remains with me always,” she explained then, reaching into a pocket beneath the apron she wore and producing the very shoe she spoke of.
I was elated for the both of us, if I am truly honest. This were proof, if proof were needed, that Cinderella was indeed the women the prince was seeking. Not one glass slipper but two would don her feet, and through the dirt on her face, the prince was sure to see her beautiful eyes, and the beautiful soul of the one he was supposed to be with forever.
“You must hide that, Cinderella,” I advised, serious in a moment as I recalled that Bradbury was still inside the house. “And we must go. I urge you to come with me, for only half our mission is complete at present.”
She nodded her agreement, hiding the slipper again, and following me as we moved back around the house together. I urged her to wait out of sight a moment, and ventured to the front of the house myself. I could see Bradbury through the parlour window and wondered how best I might retrieve him. It seemed all that could be done was to be brave and take matters into my own hands.
I hoped that the signal I gave Cinderella was enough to keep her still and quiet. Glancing down at my knees, I realised my dress was in such a state of repair as would be difficult to explain away, unless indeed it became my excuse for knocking upon a stranger’s door. My breathing quickened as I realised what I was doing, but by then I was at the front door and knocking for attention. It was but a moment before one of Cinderella’s step-sisters greeted me, albeit with disdain.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, madam,” I excused my appearance immediately. “I do not wish to inconvenience you for a moment, but I wondered if there was a gentleman acquaintance of mine here?”
“Gentleman acquaintance?” she echoed my words, an eyebrow raised and a tone full of suspicion.
“Yes, indeed. Mr. Bradbury is a dear friend of my family, and our house is all in uproar. We require his assistance without delay.”
To be dramatic was not entirely against my nature, and given the way today’s events had tended, it did not take very much effort to work myself up into full hysterics on the door step.
“I beg of you, madam, if Mr. Bradbury is here, please do have him fetched at once,” I cried. “I fear for the worst if I do not gain his assistance before long!”
The woman before me was flustered at best and immediately rushed away. Within but a minute, Bradbury was there before me and my heart lurched with relief at the sight of him.
“Oh, dear Bradbury,” I gasped, practically flinging myself into his arms on sight. “You must come quickly, sir, for I am quite sure all shall be lost if we do not make haste!”
There was a general fluttering of handkerchiefs and worried voices. I knew nothing of anything but Bradbury’s hands upon me and the road getting ever closer to my feet. We stumbled around the corner together, the dramatic
s of my lies having left me quite overcome even in their fraudulence. Cinderella did look quite taken aback by the sight of us, and I could hardly blame her. It took a few moments before I could properly make introductions between her and Bradbury.
“You are engaged, I suppose?” she asked, at which point my eyes drifted up to meet Bradbury’s own.
“We are... good friends.”
I smiled, noting his arms about me still, despite my panic now being past and our acting skills no longer required.
“Indeed,” he replied, disentangling himself from me immediately.
The disappointment of it all made my heart sink, though I knew I was being extremely unfair. I had professed more than once my intention to never be tied down in marriage and Bradbury knew it. We had made no promises to one another, only admitted some deeper feelings that I supposed as yet may be passed off as purely friendship, or even a familial type of bond. At least we had saved Cinderella, that was the material point, or so I told myself over and over in the moments that followed. It did not completely eliminate the ache in my heart, but it did help.
Chapter 10
Two days passed from the day myself and Bradbury saved Cinderella and reunited her with the prince. Sat alone in my room, I stared into the looking glass and smiled brighter than I felt I had in weeks, perhaps longer. To think all that the royal ball had done for me, and yet I had not gained the dream life so many had wished for that night. My gift was that much greater, in that I had helped another fulfil their true potential and find a way to a most happy and entirely deserved life.
My own future was less certain than that of Cinderella and her prince, but I did not mind at all. The only minor blot on my landscape might have been the undefined nature of my relationship with Bradbury. All talk of our potential love and possible engagement seemed to be gone forever when we reached the house and he took his leave. I was to take Cinderella to the palace myself, and he would not come, though I asked that he might accompany us. From that moment to this particular morning, I had not seen sight of him nor heard a word. Apparently, he spoke to my aunt and arranged that he might take a day or two away from our home before returning next week to resume his teaching of Alexa. I dare not hope he would repeat his overtures of love to me. Quite honestly, I would have been the first to admit most truthfully that I was not certain I could be truly satisfied as only a wife and mother for anyone’s sake, not even his own. Such a transition as I would have to make to become Mrs. Emelia Bradbury would be a strange one, and though I might have made such a sacrifice if asked again, it was almost a relief not to have to consider it now.
Fairytales Reimagined, Volume I Page 6