Cinder-Ugly

by Laura Strickland

  “Erikka!” Father cried for the third time. He caught her shoulders between his hands and spoke into her face. “How can you say such a dreadful thing?”

  “It’s the truth. I have given her house room all this while. Now she thinks she will go out into the world and ruin me!”

  “I won’t,” I whispered.

  “What?” Mother’s head spun back toward me.

  “It speaks!” Nelissa said.

  “I won’t tell anyone I’m your daughter,” I shouted. “I won’t!” I’d never before raised my voice at my mother. At my sisters, yes, when younger and they taunted me. But the pain inside me now demanded release.

  She narrowed her eyes and hissed, “Stupid, stupid girl. It will get out. How do you think it won’t?”

  “I’ll hide. In my room. Just like always.”

  Mother broke free from Father’s grasp and stepped toward me. She swayed as she came, and only then did I see her intoxication. She came up close, closer than she’d been in years, so I could smell the drink on her breath.

  For one suspended moment I thought she might soften after all, accept my offer of self-abasement, and relent.

  Instead, she whispered words for my ear alone. “There’s only one thing you can do to please me, girl—go away and take your own life.”

  Chapter Eight

  I never told anyone what Mother said to me there at the foot of the stairs. Nobody else heard, and Mother fell down immediately after, too drunk to stand. Father helped her away, and my sisters went off snickering.

  I returned to my room, feeling like I’d been stabbed to the heart. I didn’t try to rationalize what had taken place or blame Mother’s words on the drink she’d consumed. There is truth in wine, as the books say. She had at last expressed her fondest wish for me.

  If she wanted to reduce me beyond the pale, she succeeded. By the time I departed for Robin’s house, I could scarcely lift my gaze from the floor. It didn’t help that Robin and Donella remained away a week longer. I relocated to the new room they’d prepared for me and hid there as I always had, making of it simply a far more beautiful prison.

  Donella had done up the room in soft lavender, with white curtains and bed hangings. She’d given me glossy white bookcases for my treasured volumes, a soft patterned carpet, and a chair for reading. The windows overlooked the back garden, or more precisely what Donella hoped would be the back garden once she had time to work on it. Walled with warm orange brick, that space beckoned to me, but I dared not go down.

  I did not want anyone to see me. I took my meals in my room and encountered only two servants.

  Did I think about the request Mother made of me? I thought about very little else. The one thing I could do for her, it would ease her pain and shame over my existence. I didn’t doubt she felt shame for having produced such a monster.

  But I didn’t know how I might accomplish the deed. I could slit my wrists, but I didn’t have a knife. I might throw myself from the window to the stones below, but I feared the fall might not kill me. I might be left even more broken and a burden to those I loved.

  I decided the most likely prospect lay in hanging. My bedding could be twisted into a rope. If I secured it somehow to the top of the window frame, I could drop out the window and end my life. It would not be an easy death, but I had no reason to believe I deserved easy.

  I deserved nothing.

  The thing that stopped me, other than sheer cowardice, was a lack of means to secure the makeshift noose. Again, if I merely fell, I might become a worse burden than I was now.

  “Miss, would you like me to do your hair?”

  Little Gerta, who’d been assigned to me as maid, often interrupted my dire thoughts. Barely older than I, and a tiny thing, she could not be called beautiful either, having a plain, freckled face and that undersized frame. But her brown eyes remained kind and she never, by word or deed, showed any sign of judging me.

  She hauled water for my bath, brushed my clothing, and attempted to dress my hair, all while speaking gently. She brought me trays of food and took them away again barely touched. She never questioned my refusal to leave the room.

  I wondered if Donella had warned her about me. It was difficult to tell.

  She brushed my hair at length—one hundred strokes, as she said—and twisted it up on top of my head, held with jeweled pins, calling it “becoming.” When she helped me with my bath—a hot bath had become my single pleasure—she never commented on the welts on my back. For Mother’s beating had indeed left scars—not from every bite of the strap, only the deepest.

  Gerta might ask me softly about the latest book I’d read or ask if I’d like flowers brought up to my room. If she brought flowers, she always included some purple blooms. She never looked at me as if I didn’t deserve to live.

  Then Donella and Robin returned, and life changed once again. They both came to my room to greet me, fresh from their journey. They looked wonderful, Donella’s cheeks abloom and Robin wearing a new gravity that suited him. Donella embraced me and asked how I liked my chamber.

  I assured her I did, and she expressed herself as glad.

  “But,” she said, “I do not want you to feel confined here. That was never our intention when we invited you to live with us, was it, Robin?”

  “No, indeed,” my brother said.

  Gently, Donella pressed, “I hope you will come downstairs and dine with us.”

  “I can’t.” I dropped my eyes. Someone might see me. He or she might put word about, and that would get back to Mother.

  “Nonsense. It will be just the three of us this evening, right, Robin? You need not see any guests till you feel ready.”

  “I…” I could think of no excuse.

  Donella brightened. “You must hear all about our wedding trip. Oh, how many times I wished you were there with us to see the sights. Wait till I tell you about the Uphill Road and the Tomb of Queen Esmerelda.”

  I wanted to hear. I looked shyly at my brother, who smiled at me. “You’d better let her share it all, Cindra, or she’ll burst.”

  Donella went on, “Put on one of your new dresses. Surely they’ve all arrived by now.”

  They had. I’d unpacked them and hung them all in the big wardrobe.

  Robin put in, “Cindra, this will be a private supper just for the three of us. A good place for you to begin.”

  How could I explain how uncomfortable the prospect made me feel? How remind him I’d only once shared in a family supper? They tried so hard to be kind.

  I nodded. They went away, and Gerta appeared at my side.

  “Miss, which gown would you like to wear?”

  I waved a hand. “Any. Any of them.”

  She selected a dress in pale yellow, the color of tender primroses. She dressed me as one might a mannequin and from somewhere magically produced a genuine primrose to pin in my hair.

  “There, now. How fine you look!”

  Reluctantly, I raised my eyes to the glass. The girl there looked like a plucked chicken with a primrose on its head.

  I went down to supper and listened to tales of grand castles, stunning gardens, and exotic locales, Donella and Robin talking over each other in their eagerness to share all. They laughed and teased one another, and I relaxed enough to eat a few bites and smile over the story of a monkey that had climbed onto Robin’s head.

  That proved the first of many suppers we took together. They always included me when they were alone and invited me when they had guests, which proved often. As a young, lively couple, they loved to entertain, but with an eye to Mother’s well-being, I excluded myself from such gatherings.

  Robin also held a number of more serious meetings. Now well stuck into business, he often welcomed other businessmen—and men of influence—to discuss the health of the realm, its King, and the likelihood of war.

  I never knew he’d become close with Prince Rupert until I bumped into the Prince unexpectedly one afternoon. I suppose it made sense; they were nearly
of an age, and Rupert needed advisors he could trust. I spent so much time in my room and in the garden, where Donella had requested my help, I never paused to question the identity of my brother’s guests.

  On this afternoon, though, it rained, and I ran downstairs to fetch the book I’d been reading, left behind in the sitting room. I quite literally careened into someone who stood just inside the door of the chamber—his hands came out and steadied me.

  Recoiling violently, I looked up and encountered a pair of green eyes that, to my horror, I identified immediately.

  I froze. The eyes narrowed quizzically, and he said with faultless politeness, “I do beg your pardon,” even though it had been entirely my fault.

  Dull heat raced over me, a blush that came from my deepest depths. Before I could speak, he recognized me. His face transformed in a smile.

  “Why, it is the wee lass from Master Bulgar’s reception. I never did learn your name.”

  I do not think I could have replied to save my life. His hands still rested lightly on my shoulders, and he stood so near I could catch his scent. He smelled of sunshine, despite the rain.

  “Do you work here now?” he asked kindly.

  Robin appeared from nowhere. Quite possibly he’d been in the room all the time and I had failed to notice him. He said, “Your Highness, this is my sister.”

  The Prince’s eyebrows flew up. “Your sister?” he repeated. I could almost see the thoughts moving in his mind. He’d encountered a servant at my parents’ house. It did not make sense to him.

  “Prince Rupert,” Robin said formally, “may I present the youngest of my sisters, Mistress Cindra Bulgar.”

  “Mistress Bulgar, charmed.” Rupert slid his fingers down my arm, captured my hand, and kissed the back of it, giving a bow. I do not know how I kept from falling down on the spot.

  “Thank you for the flowers,” I whispered.

  “I beg your pardon?” He tipped his ear toward me.

  “The flowers you sent—I never received any before, and they were lovely. I treasured them.”

  His smile once more transfigured his face, turning it from still and grave to full of beautiful light. “I’m glad I was able to please you.”

  He still had hold of my hand; I struggled to keep from swooning.

  He declared, “You should have flowers every day, since you enjoy them so much.”

  “Sending them was…kind of you.” Beyond kind, but I didn’t say that.

  Robin said, “Cindra, why don’t you stay and have tea with us? We were just going to discuss a few matters, nothing that should bore you too much.”

  “I can’t, really. I just came to get my book.” I drew my hand from Rupert’s and snatched the little tome from a side table.

  “Mistress Bulgar, do you like to read?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “As do I. Many a good book kept me company on my travels about the world. We will have to compare our favorites some time.”

  I dropped a half curtsy and bent my head. Little did I know, when Nurse drilled us endlessly in that exercise, I would ever practice it before royalty.

  Then I fled. I heard Rupert say something to Robin as I went, but I couldn’t hear what.

  And I felt glad I couldn’t.

  Chapter Nine

  A spell of beautiful weather ensued. Donella and I spent all our time in the garden, dressed in our oldest clothing. First we cleared away the overgrowth, with the assistance of an aging gardener borrowed from Donella’s parents. Then we sat for hours going over plans and drawings, designing how the enclosed space should look. Donella seemed to value my opinion and to enjoy my company.

  I loved the enclosed yard—drowsy with warmth and the droning of bees, it felt safe to me, maybe the first truly safe space I’d ever inhabited. My family seemed impossibly distant; my mother almost ceased to exist.

  I sometimes forgot my appearance. When Donella and I laughed together over some silliness, I could overlook the fact that I looked any less perfect than she.

  We were engaged in just such silliness when next the Prince came to visit. We’d been busy pulling weeds out by the roots, falling over ourselves and each other, ending up liberally sprinkled with soil. Donella’s eyes looked merry and, wholly engaged, I failed to immediately notice the man who walked toward us down the path.

  Until he spoke: “Is this not an enchanting scene for a lovely afternoon?”

  I choked on a giggle and turned, not believing the evidence of my eyes.

  But Donella laughed. “Why, thank you, Your Highness. You catch us in the middle of our grand project. It does not look much right now, but I promise you it will be magnificent in the end.”

  “It looks to prove a veritable oasis of beauty. And please call me Rupert, both of you.”

  He fixed his green eyes on me and bowed. “I confess, Mistress Bulgar, I hoped to find you today.” He smiled crookedly and from behind his back swept a bouquet. “For you.”

  Much larger than the first bouquet he’d sent, this one had tall yellow flowers like stars and pink ones that cascaded down over his hand, and tiny blue ones like pieces of the sky.

  “Oh!” I gasped and pressed my hands to my cheeks. “How lovely!”

  Donella laughed kindly. “So they are. You might wish to accept them.”

  I reached for the bunch of flowers. My fingers brushed those of the Prince as he handed them to me.

  “How very thoughtful,” Donella said.

  Rupert smiled. “Soon you will be surrounded by flowers and won’t need my offerings. But I thought Mistress Bulgar should have an abundance of what she enjoys.”

  “We were just about to take a rest and share some lemonade here in the garden,” Donella said. “Will you join us?”

  “I would be most pleased. I am waiting for your husband, who has another appointment, and frankly I can’t think of a more delightful way to spend the time.”

  “I will go tell the maid to bring some refreshments. Cindra, please entertain the Prince while I am gone.”

  She swept off—How could she?—effectively dropping me into confusion.

  “So, Mistress Bulgar,” Prince Rupert said, “do you enjoy gardening as much as reading?”

  “I do.”

  “Let us sit here in the sunshine. Such a peaceful place.”

  “It is.”

  I perched on the edge of the dilapidated bench—one of the things Donella planned to replace—and he seated himself at the other end. His lively green eyes inspected me before, perhaps noticing my extreme discomfort, he gazed away across the expanse.

  “On my tour, I was privileged to see some of the most beautiful gardens in the world. Gardens are prized as sacred spaces in many cultures. Sitting here in the sunlight, one can see why.”

  I let the breath escape my lungs. “That must have been wonderful.”

  “I wish I might show you. If I ever go again, I promise to bring you a plant from some far place. I don’t doubt even the most exotic would thrive in this sheltered spot, under your care.”

  “I would like that.” I looked at the bouquet in my hands and not at him, marveling that I seemed to be having a conversation with a man. A prince.

  “Of course I don’t contemplate traveling any time soon, given my father’s ill health and our perilous situation.”

  “Is the King very ill?”

  “I fear he’s dying.”

  Startled, I lifted my eyes to his and beheld his sorrow.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “You know, Mistress Bulgar, I spent so many years away, being educated and seeing the world—both things upon which he insisted—I feel I barely know him. It will be hard on my mother. They’ve had a good marriage, the kind I would like for myself.”

  My cheeks flamed. Before I could think of an answer, Donella returned leading a maid who carried a tray containing not only the promised lemonade but dainty cakes.

  The two of them chatted casually until Robin appeared to collect the Prin
ce, when Donella said, “Your Highness, I hope you will consider this place your sanctuary and visit often.”

  “I would like that, Madame.”

  “You can follow our progress as Cindra and I transform it.”

  He bowed and followed Robin away. Donella looked at me thoughtfully.

  “Well, that was pleasant, wasn’t it, dear?”

  I nodded.

  “You did splendidly. Of course, I do not find Prince Rupert particularly intimidating. Do you?”

  A shake of my head.

  “Good. Perhaps you will not be too uncomfortable joining us when we have him to dinner. He and Robin are becoming fast friends. I anticipate His Highness will be here often.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t…”

  “Why?”

  “My appearance—”

  “You have all those lovely gowns. Besides, look at you now—look at both of us. Wearing our oldest dresses and covered with soil. But he seemed to enjoy his visit, didn’t he?”

  “I…must go put my flowers in water.”

  “Do that,” Donella agreed. “We would not want anything to happen to such fragile blooms.”

  ****

  After that, a bouquet arrived for me every day, sometimes small and delicate, sometimes large and exuberant. None ever had a note attached stating who sent them, but I knew.

  I knew.

  The most beautiful blooms I’d ever seen, they filled my bedroom and spilled over to other chambers.

  Then one day the Prince arrived in person. He came wearing a dark suit with golden braid and bearing a cluster of golden flowers more exotic than any I’d ever imagined.

  Donella and I, both attending to our sewing in the parlor, since it rained outside, rose to our feet. Rupert approached me directly and placed the flowers in my hands.

  “Mistress Bulgar, I wished to bring these to you so that I might explain what they are. These grow in the garden of the Sun Emperor, and only there. I first saw them when I visited his citadel during my travels. Only take a breath of their perfume, if you will.”