I'm Not Cinderella (The Princess Chronicles)

by Montgomery, Tarrah

Katie looked at me for an answer.

  “She’s actually at my home in Idaho,” I said.

  Lady Catherine smirked. “Cinderella has gone to see you, and you have come here to see her. Forgive me for noticing that the arrangement appears to have an error.”

  “I guess you can say we’ve sort of made a swap.”

  Lady Catherine looked at my clothes again. “Well, at least you look prepared to perform Cinderella’s household duties.” The woman sighed. “In any case, a break from her will be refreshing.”

  Abruptly, she clapped her hands twice and shouted towards the closed door, “William! Come!”

  I jumped at the outburst, wondering if Lady Catherine had Tourette’s or something.

  Within seconds, hurried footsteps could be heard echoing against the rock floor of the hallway. The door opened to reveal Ponytail Man, and I thought again how perfectly handsome he was.

  “Yes, milady?” he said.

  “Fetch Miss Brinlee’s bags,” Lady Catherine ordered. “It looks like she will be staying with us for a while.”

  I tore my eyes away from the beautiful man and said, “I didn’t bring anything with me.”

  All three occupants of the room looked at me questioningly.

  “My luggage isn’t here yet,” I lied. “I came ahead, anxious to arrive early.”

  “Very well,” Lady Catherine said. “Katie, show Miss Brinlee to Cinderella’s room. Since the two of them seem to have exchanged places, it is fitting for Miss Brinlee to fill Cinderella’s position.” The lady of the house turned to the young man. “You may go, William.”

  As he took his leave, his eyes lingered in my direction. I almost staggered at the cold, odd sensation I felt from his gaze.

  Lady Catherine spoke, seizing my attention. “According to the laws of Christian hospitality, I will not turn you out of my house. However, I have reservations regarding who you truly are.”

  “Milady—” I began.

  “It is unnecessary for you to speak,” she interrupted. She took an authoritative step closer. “I don’t care how a person like you comes to be a friend of Cinderella. But I shall favor you with a warning—the doings of this household will be held private. Every word breathed within these walls shall remain in this house.”

  Chills ran up my spine. This stepmother was really as evil as the storybooks said.

  When Lady Catherine took another step toward me, I felt her breath hot on my face. “You must follow orders with exactness. Is that understood?”

  I nodded. “Yes, milady.”

  “Good. You may leave.” She flicked her hand.

  Quickly, Katie grabbed my elbow and led me out of the room.

  Once we were in the hall and the door was closed, I exhaled the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

  “I’m so glad you have come to visit,” Katie exclaimed, as if the awful scene with Lady Catherine was a normal occurrence. The chambermaid continued to talk while leading me farther down the hall. “We will have so much fun together. You come from a very different place, and I am anxious for you to share your knowledge with me.”

  I turned to look at her. No doubt we were very close in age, but oh, how different her life was from mine. For instance, I replaced empty toilet-paper rolls, while she emptied chamber pots . . . that somebody else had used.

  I hadn’t thought about using the bathroom in this place yet. Suddenly, my bladder taunted me. Oh, great.

  “What’s your story?” I asked Katie. “How old are you? Where are you from?”

  “I’m eighteen years old, and I’m from the kingdom, of course. I’ve lived in this household all my life. My mother does the mending, and my sister helps with the cleaning. My assignment is to assist and serve the ladies of the house.”

  I had read about chambermaids and lady’s maids, but I never imagined meeting one. This was definitely a bizarre dream.

  Katie presented me to another set of doors. “This is Miss Gabriella’s room.”

  The girl opened the door. I gazed inside and gasped. “This is amazing!”

  With everything drenched in blues, silver, and crystal, the room reminded me of a cloud. Compared to Lady Catherine’s gloomy, red room, this one was calm and refreshing. It was exquisite.

  “This used to be Miss Gabriella’s mother’s room. Blue was her favorite,” Katie explained.

  “It’s perfect.”

  “When Miss Gabby’s father died, this part of the manor was left alone. Lady Catherine said it reminded her of the ghost of Miss Gabby’s mother. So, this room was left to Miss Gabby. She’s kept it the same ever since.”

  I stepped farther into the peaceful bedroom. The atmosphere spoke of Gabriella—sweet and charming.

  “Miss Gabby spends most of her time downstairs in the company of the other servants. I don’t know if this room brings her comfort in her mother’s memory, or perhaps sorrow.”

  “Probably both,” I said.

  I reached out to touch the lace on one of the tables. My fingers glided across the supple silk. It feels so real.

  Katie said excitedly, “Did Miss Gabby tell you about the ball at the palace?”

  This is just like the Cinderella story. “We really are right at the beginning, aren’t we?” I murmured.

  Katie gave me a funny look. “You say the most curious things.”

  The large bed beckoned to me. Maybe a little nap would cure my insanity. “I don’t feel so good,” I said.

  “Are you well?”

  I shook my head. “I think I should rest a bit.” Then, I will wake up from this nightmare.

  Katie raced to a nearby cupboard and retrieved a white garment. She laid the billowy piece of linen on the bed. “Here is a shift for you. Change into this, and then I’ll have Mama wash some new stockings and petticoats for you.”

  In a sleepy daze, I stared at the nightgown.

  “Would you like me to assist you in changing?” Katie asked politely.

  “Oh, no, no,” I said. “I can change myself, thank you.”

  “Rest well, then. I’m so glad you’ve come to visit, Miss Brinlee.”

  “Thank you, Katie.”

  After she left, the first thing I did was find a hiding place for my Cinderella book. I climbed onto the fantasy bed and slid the book under the fluffy pillow. Then, I laid my head on the pillow and whispered, “Just a dream. It’s just a crazy dream.”

  As I glided off to sleep, I remembered the words Nana often said to me. “Hold on to your dreams, Brinlee. Don’t ever let go.”

  How ironic.

  Chapter 4

  Boyfriend Number One—First Breakup: Marty Adams

  We were twelve. We were in the same class. Our relationship started in a note and ended likewise. The first said, “Will you go steady with me?” Three weeks later the last one said, “Let’s be friends.”

  I was angry at the boy, and I was angry at myself for being naive enough to think true love existed . . . at the age of twelve. But mostly I was angry at my father. It always came down to him.

  Nana was the one who made it all better, like always. On the phone, she said, “Hold on to your dreams, Brinlee. Don’t ever let go.”

  Surprised, I said, “That’s the problem. I dream too much.”

  “Dreams, wishes, hope—they all have the power to fill our lives with happiness. They teach us that there’s a reason to rejoice. With hope, we may be assured that the ending of the book of our lives will exceed our greatest expectations.”

  I thought about her simple words.

  “You’re the only one who can write your love story,” she said. “I’ve been writing mine, and it’s better than any fairy tale.”

  Later That First Day

  No longer able to ignore my hunger pai
ns and the call of my full bladder, I woke up.

  “Cass, you better have saved me some apple pie,” I grumbled as I stretched my tired legs. I would not be a happy camper if I went downstairs and found the pie tin empty. After my crazy dream, I deserved a sugary snack.

  I opened my eyes and found I was not lying in my bed at home. I was still in Gabriella’s room. Oh, come on! Seriously?!

  My eyes quickly scanned my surroundings. “It wasn’t a dream,” I said out loud.

  After a light knock at the door, Katie peeked her head inside. “Are you all right, Miss Brinlee?”

  No, I am not all right. I am undoubtedly, certifiably going crazy.

  She pointed to my clothes. “You didn’t change into your shift.”

  “I fell asleep before I had time to change.”

  She smiled. “You appeared tired, Miss Brinlee. I hope you rested well.”

  She approached the bed and put down a bundle of fabric. “Mama washed some new stockings and petticoats for you. We figured you were about the same size as Miss Gabby.”

  I stood motionless as she laid out each item. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. Maybe if I said it three times and clicked my heels, I could return home. Or did I have to say “There’s no place like home” three times? Wait, wrong fairy tale.

  “Miss Brinlee?” Katie looked at me as if she had spoken to me and just realized I wasn’t listening. “Are you all right?” She placed her hand on my arm.

  This can’t be happening. Yet here I am . . . still here. But how?

  “Katie, right?” I said.

  “Yes, miss.”

  Questions swirled in my mind. “Where am I?”

  She frowned. “You’re in Miss Gabriella’s room.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not what I meant. What is this place?”

  “I don’t understand you, Miss Brinlee.” Katie scrunched her eyebrows. “You arrived here at Sherwood Manor this morning—don’t you remember?”

  I ran my fingers through my hair and began to pace. This isn’t real, I reminded myself.

  “Miss Brinlee?” Katie said.

  I stopped pacing. “Tell me, where am I?”

  She took a step backward, a puzzled expression on her face. “You are in Fenmore Falls. You are in Sherwood Manor, the home of Lady Catherine. You are standing in Miss Gabriella’s room.”

  “Look, you have to tell me,” I whispered. “Has there been anyone else like me here before?” I pointed to my clothes. “Someone who dresses funny and talks strange?” Maybe this is a reality TV show like Survivor or something.

  “No,” Katie answered.

  Guess not.

  I leaned closer to her, close enough to see the darkness of her lashes. “Hmm. For a moment I thought you were wearing mascara.”

  I raised my hand and pinched the side of her arm.

  “Ouch,” she exclaimed.

  Yep, she is real. “Sorry, I was just checking.”

  As Katie rubbed her arm, the bedroom door opened. Another girl joining my fantasy world said, “Katie, why didn’t you tell us our visitor was awake?”

  The newcomer gracefully moved across the room, holding the sides of her elegant pink dress. The movement was like water flowing across the floor as it was poured from a crystal cup. The girl’s auburn hair swayed with each perfect stride.

  “Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner. I’m Rose.”

  Delighted not only by her grace, but also her gentleness, I happily returned the gesture. “I’m Brinlee.”

  Rose unexpectedly squeezed my hand. “Welcome to our home, Miss Brinlee. I hope your stay with us is long.”

  “Thank you.”

  Is this one of Cinderella’s evil stepsisters? Things seemed quite different in this particular story. For example, Cinderella slept in a cloudlike bedroom instead of on the floor next to the fireplace. But hey, I could get used to this version of the story.

  “Katie, have you offered our guest some food?” Rose asked. “She must be famished.”

  “No, miss.” Katie gave a slight curtsy. “I’ll go and ask Cook.”

  I grabbed the chambermaid’s arm. “Katie has been so kind and helpful since I arrived,” I said. “I don’t know what I would have done without her.” Not ready to be left alone with the stepsister, I kept hold of Katie’s arm.

  “Wonderful,” Rose said. “I hope you are comfortable during your stay here.”

  Just then, another young woman entered through the open door. Unlike Rose, she pierced the room with exactness and coldness. “Why must we entertain a guest of Cinderella?” she asked loudly. “She is of no consequence to us.”

  The haughty girl looked maybe a year older than me, but her cruel countenance made her seem older. I realized she was the other stepsister, and she definitely fit my definition of evil stepsister. Her attitude certainly resembled her mother’s.

  Rose rolled her eyes. “Show some propriety, Fanny. It would do you some good.”

  Before I thought about it, I snickered at the evil stepsister’s name. “You’re kidding.”

  “What are you cackling about?” Fanny glared at me.

  I stammered, trying to erase my smile. “Sorry . . . I was just thinking about something.”

  “She’s our guest, Fanny,” Rose said. “Mother says she may be of noble relation.”

  I grinned. Lady Catherine had believed my claim of regal ancestry.

  Fanny straightened a bit. “What is your name?”

  I curtsied clumsily. “I’m Brinlee.”

  Fanny’s eyes scornfully evaluated my clothes.

  All right, I get it. My clothes are strange. The constant inspections were getting old.

  With her index finger, Fanny wiped at my sleeve. Then she held her finger up to scrutinize the soot on it. The ashes must have gotten on my arm when I bumped into the fireplace in the kitchen. “Cinder and ashes, just like Cinderella,” she said.

  I brushed at the side of my arm to remove the black smudges.

  “I think I’ll call you Ashlee because you’re so fond of wearing ashes,” Fanny sneered. “It’s only appropriate that you have a fitting name, just like Cinderella’s.”

  Anger boiled within me. “Oh, very clever, Fanny,” I said. “How about I just tell you to sit on your fanny and keep your mouth shut, Fanny? Two can play at this game.”

  The girl’s mouth clamped shut.

  With a rush, I continued, “I know all about you, Miss Fanny Sherwood.” I stepped closer. “You’re just like all of the evil stepsisters. You’re a selfish brat who’s used to getting her way and gets her thrills by slamming everyone else down, but inside you’re just a lonely and frightened little girl who’s afraid of losing everything, just like when your father died and you were penniless.”

  I exhaled. Boy, did that feel good.

  Everyone stared at me in shock. All right, maybe I was a little harsh with Fanny, but she deserved it! If I was going to endure this fantasy, I wasn’t going to tolerate someone downsizing my self-worth.

  “How did you know about our father?” Rose asked softly.

  “I’ve read so much about you and your family,” I said.

  Fanny scowled. “What do you mean you’ve read about us?”

  “I mean I’ve heard so much about you. Gabriella told me about you and your family.”

  Fanny lowered her eyebrows but said nothing.

  Rose pointed to my pants. “Is this the fashion where you come from?”

  I looked down at my clothes. Compared to the other girls in the room, with their petticoats, stays, and gowns, I looked like a clown. Not to mention the cinder and ashes on my sleeve.

  “These are my work clothes. My proper clothes are coming.”r />
  “Katie will help you change into something more appropriate,” Rose said. “Won’t you, Katie?”

  “Yes, miss.”

  Fanny eyeballed me one more time before rushing toward the door and ordering, “Rose, come!”

  Rose smiled but quickly followed her older sister.

  When they were gone, Katie said, “Nobody has ever put Miss Fanny in her place like that before.”

  “Was it terrible of me?” I asked.

  “No, miss. It was about time,” Katie said with a wink.

  I smiled. “She seemed pretty shocked.”

  Katie giggled. “I will never forget the look on her face. Now, let’s get you changed so no one else will question your status.”

  “Thanks for helping me and being so nice to me. I should only be here a couple of days before Gabriella returns.” I hope.

  “Would you like me to assist you in changing?” Katie asked.

  I looked at the numerous pieces of clothing on the bed. I had no idea what most of them were or how to put them on. “I would love your help, Katie. Thank you.”

  But there was something else I needed to do first—use the bathroom. I didn’t think I could hold it any longer. “Can I use the bathroom first?”

  Katie looked at the white pot under a nearby table. “I’ll give you a moment of privacy.”

  Great. When was indoor plumbing invented?

  Katie returned a few minutes later, after I’d done my business.

  ’Nough said.

  She began giving me an eighteeneth-century makeover. Come to find out, there was an exact order and method of getting dressed. And let me tell you, it was no walk in the park. Personally, I was partial to sweatpants and T-shirts—obviously. They were easy. It took me five seconds flat to find a used pair on the floor and throw them on. But this was different. There was more to it than just a pair of pants and shirt.