Midnight Falls: A Thrilling Retelling of Cinderella

by Jeanette Matern

  “Henry, as God is my witness I will kill you where you stand.”

  He laughed brazenly. There was a bizarre, almost perverse gleefulness in his voice. “How?” he prodded his wife. “From the looks of it, your hand is quite wounded to kill me. I suppose it is from your assault on Ella. Either way, if you murder me now, I will die a happy man. I never realized how hard it was to keep all of this scandalous information a secret for so many years, just to protect the reputation of a woman like you. It would suit me just fine to expose it all as my deathbed confession!”

  Isolda’s eyes were like white stone. A creak emanated from the wooden floorboards and it pierced the silent air like steel striking steel.

  “Father,” Bethany uttered almost inaudibly, “what are saying?”

  “I am sorry your parents were so undeserving of daughters like you,” Henry said to Bethany before he glanced up to Aislinn, who was still stultified at the top of the steps. “But I cannot be the bigger man now, or the better father, and spare you from this shame. On the night of Thomas and Isabella’s wedding, your mother met Isabella’s young, adolescent brother, Peter.”

  “Henry,” Isolda chanted, gutturally, “don’t say one more word. Isabella is a vixen. If you ever loved me at all, let it stay that way.”

  “If you ever loved me,” Henry chided mercilessly, “you would never have done what you did. Isabella was just reacting as any loving sister would. How can you blame her for never wanting to befriend a woman that, on the night of her wedding and when she was already engaged to be married to me, bedded her only brother: the teenage Peter Summerly?!”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Ella rustled herself awake. Marguerite was there, distracted by Louis who had come to her with a basket of fruit and pastries. She could not see Marion. A dull ache still loomed over her body, but just the fact that she was warm and clean seemed to lessen its effect of her. She quickly discerned that there was some sort of cloth bandage on her face. It partially covered the corner of her left eye. She felt the area gently with her fingertips. She could feel the groove of what must have been a deep cut across her cheek. It hurt her and she winced

  “Oh my goodness, you’re awake!” Marguerite squealed, nearly pushing Louis to ground to get to Ella. “How do you feel, my darling?”

  “Sore,” Ella replied. She tried to sit up but Marguerite insisted she not.

  “No, no, child. Stay still and rest. You can come home soon. Are you hungry?”

  “Not very.”

  “Well, Louis here brought some fresh peaches. Marion and Frome went for a walk. She did not want to leave but Frome insisted. Can you believe that? I do believe she is in love. Men. It is amazing the effect baboons have on swans such as us.”

  Ella smiled and it felt good, through it panged. “Marguerite?” she said.

  “Yes, love?”

  “What happened?”

  Marguerite’s gleefulness disappeared and she was not sure why. After all, it had all ended well. Well enough.

  “Thurlow is dead,” Marguerite stated clearly.

  “Gabriel killed him?”

  “I don’t know. If he did, he pushed him through a window.”

  “A window?”

  “Yes. Nothing too exciting there. Just went splat right there on the cobblestone walkway. Poor bastard.”

  “And the prince?”

  “He’s the king now.”

  “What about—?”

  “My dear, everyone’s alive and kicking but Captain Thurlow. Now the rest can wait for another time. Either eat something or go back to sleep.”

  Marguerite placed the basket that Louis had delivered and began walking away from Ella. She contemplated whether to say something to Ella about Gabriel; how he’d known precisely where to find her in that enormous castle. Would it only make things worse? Marguerite elected to let Ella decide.

  “He came back, you know,” Marguerite disclosed to Ella, whose head had fallen back on the pillow and whose eyes were staring off into nothingness.

  “What? Who?” Ella asked eagerly.

  “Gabriel. He came looking for you last night at home after you’d left. When we told him about what Isolda had said and where you’d gone, he vanished. Just like that. Went after you like some warrior to rescue his true love. Or something ridiculously romantic like that. What a baboon.”

  Ella grinned and leaned back into the pillow again. She closed her eyes. After a few moments, when she was sure Marguerite had left, she opened them. Ella saw the rays of sunlight beaming through the windows, but it still felt like nighttime. She could hear the chirp of crickets in her ears and the crisp air against her skin. But it was not nighttime anymore. Once the clocks had struck midnight, the morning was ushered in and it was a new day. Even though the darkness still prevailed.

  Thurlow was dead. Gabriel was alive and well and Ella’s hope lingered that he had not been the one to kill Thurlow. The ending she’d sought had come to pass and there was a new day ahead.

  Still, the darkness prevailed.

  Ella knew it would not last; it was being eased away ever so slowly by the promise of a better future. But until then, she yearned for the cover of the night’s darkness to hide her. And it was not because of her battered face. The pain was horrible and the dread of having to live the rest of her life with so obscene a scar was certainly trying. But still, miraculously, Ella did not feel a great deal of sadness over her physical misfortune. It was almost as if God had granted her wish to be unexceptional. Except now she was still exceptional, but for an entirely different reason. And yet Ella did not curse God.

  She cursed Gabriel. If he still would not come to her, after everything, and declare not only his love but also his promise to stay forever at her side, then her darkness would be everlasting. And there would still be no place to hide.

  Though Gabriel had heard everything from the outer steps to the Armitage estate, he still felt the need to step even farther away to get some breathing space. It was hard for him to fathom that an entire structure as large as that estate was in danger of collapsing just from the utterance of a few words. Were all families that mad? He’d never really had a family. At least not parents and cousins and a grand home like that. As unnerving as it had been to have to witness such a familial typhoon, Gabriel still felt himself longing for a family of his own.

  Many things were becoming clear to him. Why Isolda had reacted to him like she had, why she despised Ella so much. It was as though her great mistake had been worn across Ella’s face for the last twenty years. She’d had a moment of weakness with Peter Summerly. Isabella simply would not forgive her for it. Henry had told his wife that she was not a victim. Maybe she was. But then, Isolda had ruthlessly assaulted Ella and Gabriel felt enmity for the woman return to his mind. It seemed to Gabriel that the more he learned, the less he knew. He thought back to Isolda and her bloodshot eyes; her rants were almost an indiscernible language. Was that insanity? Gabriel wondered how close he’d come to losing his own mind. He’d already lost his heart. He thought of Ella and yearned to return to her.

  Bethany stepped out behind him. She needed fresh, cool air more than anyone. He turned to acknowledge her and then resumed his focus on the vastness of the open sky. (Though, in truth, it was only Ella he was seeing.)

  “I imagine you will be going to see Ella now,” Bethany said to him. “Please give her my love and tell I will be there to see her soon. I am so sorry for what my mother did to her.”

  Gabriel did not reply.

  “What is your name, by the way?” Bethany inquired.

  “Gabriel Solange.”

  “And am I correct in assuming that you are not Ella’s uncle?”

  He chuckled. “You are. Am I correct in assuming that I am now speaking to the future queen of Gwent?”

  She did not respond. How could she? Bethany could scarcely believe it herself.

  Gabriel turned and smiled at her. She was indeed a handsome woman. He saw a resemblance to her cousin. �
�Congratulations,” he said.

  “What about you?” she responded coolly, though her cheeks were bright red.

  “What about me?”

  “You and Ella. I assume you love her. I am certain she loves you. Will you make an honest woman of her or will you do something foolish to push her away forever?”

  Gabriel was stunned. Who was this woman? How did she know anything? How could he never have met Bethany before and yet she still seemed to read his mind?

  “I don’t deserve her,” he confessed. “If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened to her.”

  “And yet she would still have you. What creatures of fancy we are.”

  “I can’t offer her anything.”

  “And yet she would still have you,” Bethany said again, a smirk across her face.

  Gabriel pulled away. Bethany was proving herself to be quite intolerable. He knew what she was trying to do. It was an understatement to declare he did not like it one bit. Who did Bethany think she was? He knew Ella loved him; that she loved him in spite of everything he’d put her through. He would find a way to reconcile his countering thoughts and emotions in his own time. Why did it have to happen so quickly? What was it about women that made them think rashness always led to some sort of thrilling, death-defying adventure?

  Still…

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Ella woke again. She was alone. She wondered how long she’d been slumbering as she was set upon by extreme hunger. She looked to her side and saw the basket of food that Marguerite had left. Laboriously, she pushed away from her mattress until she was sitting up. Almost.

  “Shall I help you?”

  Ella jumped. Gabriel was standing in the doorframe. He had changed into clean clothing and his wounds had been tended. Like Ella, just the feeling of being clean made Gabriel feel stronger and more alive. When Ella did not answer him, he made his way toward her. Had Marion failed to tell her he would return? He was not angry. Ella should have known better than to worry. She had to know he would come back. He always did.

  “You must know that my lateness was due to a pressing matter that could not wait,” he contended as he neared her bedside. “Forgive me.”

  “You’re forgiven,” replied Ella. “That is, of course, if you retrieve for me that basket of food.”

  Gabriel quickened his step. He took a seat on the mattress beside her covered legs, and reached for the basket. Ella watched him survey the items and pluck out a bright but misshapen yellow apple and hand it to her. Ella wanted to cry. If they were tears of joy or sadness she did not know. Gabriel would provide the solution to the quandary, though his cavalier demeanor and aloof timbre were difficult for her to read.

  He saw that she was wrought with some kind melancholy. “Are you unwell, Ella?” he asked.

  “No, I am fine,” she said bashfully. “I only wish I could be in better spirits or at least better form to greet you.”

  “You seem well enough to me.”

  “Well, all things considered I will take that as a compliment.”

  Gabriel was somewhat baffled.

  “Ah, you are referring to your battle scar, yes?” he remarked. “I can see why that might discourage you. You’ve always been categorically concerned about your looks, even for someone who would rather not be handsome at all.”

  What is he doing? Is he trying to provoke me into throwing this apple in his face?

  “If it makes you feel any better,” he went on, “you must know that your current facial predicament, complete with that rather impressive laceration, in no way affects my fundamental opinion of your beauty.”

  “Which is?” She rolled the apple around in her fingers.

  “Unextraordinary.”

  Her fingers stilled. Was he trying to impress her intellect by insulting her vanity? Ella didn’t know if she should be angry or disappointed. Or honored. “Thank you,” she conceded with great difficulty.

  Her eyes demonstrated her utter bewilderment. Gabriel found it hard to suppress his gaiety and seeing her so unhinged. Then he noticed, in Ella’s hand, the apple that threatened at any moment to become a weapon at her disposal. His face was already quite tender. He did not need a hard, spherical fruit hurled at his nose.

  “Well, I must clarify,” he explained hurriedly, “that I would be lying if I said your looks are not bewitching and perfectly aligned with the visual stimuli of the human brain; but on a more personal level, you were never, as you’d put it, my type.”

  This is too fun, he thought to himself, even if it does bring about another black eye.

  “I see,” Ella said, slowly catching up to him. “And at the risk of running low on conversational topics, I will inquire: what is your type?”

  “I am alarmed you would not have already deduced that information. I have spent the better part of this last month urging you to be the most docile kind of creature; refined, elegant, compliant, socially and academically intelligent, yet confident enough in her own blessed role in the paradigm of humankind not to use such intelligence in confrontation or irreverence.”

  Ella snorted in spite of herself. He was causing her head to ache. “This might surprise you but I was not able to deduce all of that.”

  Gabriel waved his hand back. “Well it is of no matter now,” he declared casually, “for it would seem that my preconceived notion of the attractiveness of women has been … altered, to include color, tenacity, and the most enticing form of irreverence.”

  Ella began to feel daylight draping its warmth around her. It was overcoming the darkness of the previous night. “Am I to believe there is a specific woman that amended such a myopic notion?” she inquired.

  He leaned toward her. “Surely even you can deduce that,” he said, grinning slightly.

  Ella pulled back a touch and furrowed her brow. There was no reason two people couldn’t enjoy his sophomoric amusement. “I am not sure how to respond to such a declaration,” she declared. “If your preference for compliant women has been altered to accommodate my behavior, then you must assume that my current preference for men is your particular brand of manhood.”

  “What are you saying, exactly?”

  Ella lifted the apple to her lips but did not take a bite. “What about my type?” she stated, more a solicitation than a query.

  Gabriel took the apple from her fingertips. “Surely if a man of my pride and stubbornness can be compelled to change his mindset in the name of love, you can be…persuaded to evolve in a similar fashion.”

  “Perhaps,” she teased. “You say it took you a month? I don’t know, Gabriel. What if my…‘evolution’ requires more time and persuasion than that?”

  Gabriel took Ella’s chin gently in the palm of his hand and pulled her to him slowly. Just as his lips skimmed hers, he whispered what would become the creed of their own exceptional relationship. It was the only thing he could think of to offer the woman that he adored so wildly, so rashly; a woman he knew would always be twice the person he was.

  “Marry me, and you can have as much time and persuasion as you like.”

  THE END

  Epilogue:

  Sergeant James Halsty kicked the pebbles into the concrete walls of his cell. It was a prison that was nicer than Halsty would have preferred, even in his incarceration. Criminals deserved the accommodations that he and his Hussars had provided in their lair. But since Miles Gamely had taken control of the army, the castle guard, and disbanded what was left of the Hussars, he’d seen to it that the lair was torn down.

  Miles Gamely. James Halsty saw so much of his father in that self-righteous excuse for a leader. And Miles Gamely had had the audacity to stand above a man like Halsty and declare the man unworthy.

  What a shame…you could have been so much better than you are.

  Halsty felt his gut tighten, like a metal wire was constricting it. “Soon, Miles Gamely,” the prisoner said out loud, unencumbered by apprehension or delusions of privacy. “You will very soon see just how much b
etter I am.”