At nine o'clock, King Paul sweeps into the dining hall, his cape flowing, and his expression beguiling. Cinderella teeters to his side and leans against him as if he's just returned from the Crusades.
"Champagne to celebrate!" Paul laughs heartily, lifts Cinderella by the waist and twirls her around three times.
"Oh, Paul, it's too late in the evening for me to drink champagne," Cinderella squeaks, hugging the king’s arm for balance. "Princess Beauty won't have any either, she's expecting a baby soon."
"Is this true, Beauty?" Paul asks in charmed disbelief. "You're still a girl," he says and lifts the tablecloth's edge. "And your feet are slim and delicate. Cinderella's swelled like cream puffs when she was expecting."
"You have a child?" Beauty asks.
Cinderella hides behind the hand mirror and douses her face with powder.
"Yes, we have a son. I've just come from his castle where I learned that he and his charming wife will make us grandparents this winter."
Beauty can't help herself, she blurts, "Surely the boy is your son from a former marriage. Cinderella is too young to be a grandmother."
Paul raises Cinderella's hand to his lips. "My baby doll is well preserved."
"I'm very tired," Cinderella peeps. "Carry me to bed?"
Paul's brow creases with concern and he whisks his wife off her feet, then asks Beauty, "Shall I carry you too? I can easily carry you both, one in each arm."
Cinderella sighs and lays her cheek on Paul's chest.
"I prefer to walk," Beauty says as straight-faced as possible, "but I will follow you. I'm afraid I could easily become lost in your grand palace."
A while later, Beauty lies on her back in bed, the only comfortable position since nearing her eighth month of pregnancy. She closes her eyes and tries to sleep. First the baby rolls a tiny heel over Beauty's ribs, then Cinderella's squeaks penetrate the wall separating their rooms. Beauty then hears Paul's soothing tenor, the opening and closing of a door, and his steps to a bedroom across the hall from the queen's.
Beauty has almost slipped into sleep when she hears Cinderella squeal, "Why did you put her next door?" A voice caws in reply, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."
* * *
Beauty's Diary
22 July Page Sixty
Three weeks I have searched Charming Castle for my mirror. I've discovered rooms hidden within rooms behind closet doors, and hallways hidden behind walls. These spaces are Mother's treasure rooms, packed floor to ceiling with gems, coins, keys, bracelets, necklaces, ear bobs, rings, glass and metal jars filled with dried pomades and creams, all sorts of shiny baubles, and mirrors, hundreds of mirrors. But not my mirror.
I'm growing desperate. If I don't leave soon, I'm afraid I'll be unable to complete my quest. How can I travel with a newborn? Where is Runyon? I need my mirror!
Cinderella avoids me and I do not seek her out as I know my presence disturbs her. Since learning that she is not a young woman, I long to talk with her seriously, for I believe I could learn much. It seems the single recipient of Cinderella's confidences is the raven, Mother.
“Mirror. Make Cinderella the fairest in the land,” the raven screams from the crystal ball.
Croesus leaps from the bed and howls. "Croesus! Shut your yap." Elora slides her eye mask onto her forehead and floats the crystal ball to her bed. "Something must be done about Mother. She's been nothing but trouble since the day she died."
Croesus tucks his tail between his legs and slinks to the bedside. Elora conjures up a mug of Jamaican Blue and the raven shrieks, “I command you mirror, grant my wish!”
"She'll be at it for an hour, at least." Elora snaps her fingers over the crystal ball and young Cinderella appears, weeping on her mother's grave. "I believe this is where I left off." Elora pats the bed and Croesus bounds up beside his mistress.
"Cindy went to that grave three times a day, never noticing the white raven perched in the ash tree. She'd cry and pray and talk because she believed her mother was watching from heaven. Eventually, she discovered that if she uttered a wish, for example, I wish I had a pumice stone to clean the soot off my elbows, it would drop from the tree."
Elora snaps her fingers, "Here's Cindy at fifteen, scrubbing the hearth while Lavinia reads aloud an invitation to attend a royal festival. The king invited every eligible Grimm girl; a bride bash for Paul."
Elora and Croesus watch as Cinderella drops her scrub brush and squeals, Can I go too. Oh please, please, pah-leese!
Croesus covers his ears. "Yeah, that voice is a killer," Elora says. "Listen to what Lady Lavinia said, that piece of work."
You Cinderella? You're covered with dust and dirt, you have no clothes or shoes.
“Then she picks up a tub of beans and shakes them into the ashes. She said if Cindy picked up the beans in two hours she could go to the ball. Cinderella runs crying to her mother’s grave and squeaks, Dear tree, please help me. Mother, perched in the tree top, cocks her hoary head, and after hearing Cindy’s dilemma, rounds up every pigeon and dove she can bully into picking the beans out of the hearth.”
Elora snaps to an hour later when a puffy-faced Cinderella goes back inside the house where the tub is full and the hearth is clean. Joyfully she hefts the tub into Lavinia’s chamber. The queen eyes the tub with chagrin, shakes her head and says, “No, Cinderella, you can’t go. You have no clothes or shoes, and you can’t dance; you’ll only be laughed at.” Sweetness and Light laugh to prove her point.
Cinderella wails all the way to her mother's grave where she prays, Rustle and shake yourself, dear tree, and silver and gold throw down to me. The raven throws down a dress of gold and silver, and silk slippers.
Croesus puppy whines and sniffles watching Cinderella wash the soot from her exquisite face, lift the dress over her hourglass figure, slip her delicate feet into the silver slippers, and make her entrance at the ball. Young Prince Paul bows to the floor and kisses her foot before whisking her onto the ballroom floor.
Elora sips her coffee and fast-forwards through the three hours Paul and Cinderella danced, through Cinderella slipping out and running home. Elora snaps her fingers and the scene changes to the next morning. "Cindy went to the grave to grab her fancy duds. They weren't there, but . . . watch this."
Cinderella raises her eyes, spots the white raven, and squeaks, Pretty bird. Did you take the fine clothes the tree gave me yesterday?
The raven answers, It was me, not the tree, that gave you those clothes, my dearest darling. It has always been me, and I'll give you anything else your heart desires, my sweet daughter. She flaps down and lands on Cinderella's shoulder.
Mother? Cinderella peeps, her baby-blue eyes brimming with tears.
Croesus sniffles. Elora smacks his head. "Get that Sally Jesse Raphael reunited after X years look off your puss or I'll shut the thing off."
In the crystal ball, the raven pecks Cinderella's rosy, tear-stained cheek and croaks, The day you planted the ash branch and cried pitifully upon my grave, I willed my bones to spring up along with the tree so that I might ease your suffering. I found myself in the top most branches in the form you now behold. Mother ruffles her white feathers and caws, I have a prettier dress for you to wear today.
Elora fast-forwards through Cinderella and Paul dancing until midnight, Cinderella running from the castle and losing her gold shoe.
"The next morning, Paul strode up to Cindy's door and announced, My bride shall be no other than she whose foot this golden shoe fits. Sweetness and Light smoothed their hair, fluffed their skirts, and pinched their cheeks. Cinderella sat soot-faced and mute on the hearth."
Croesus whines and points his paw at Cinderella's image.
"What?" Elora snorts, "You think she's going to jump up from the hearth and say, That's my shoe, I'm the one you want. She's a fairy tale beauty; she's compliant, lives virtuously, and waits."
Sweetness takes the shoe and walks to Lavinia's chamber. Croesus chews his nails watching as
Sweetness tries to shove her toes into the shoe. Lavinia brandishes a carving knife and hisses, Your big toe is the problem. Cut it off. If you're queen, you won't need it.
Croesus spits a nail across the room and jams his head under a pillow. "You are such a wuss. It's over, you can look now."
As Sweetness and Paul ride past Gertrude's grave, Mother caws from the ash tree: Look at her foot. There's blood on the shoe. She is not your true bride.
Croesus faints. "Hopeless," Elora mutters. She breaks an ammonia capsule under the dog's nose. "You're such a puppy toes when you're scared. I'll skip the gore and tell you that Paul took Sweetness back, and the same thing happened with Light, except the carving was done on her heel. Hey, that's marketing. This is not a story of good dead mother versus bad live stepmother. Lavinia and Mother shared in the crime of marketing their daughters. They're no different from Chinese mothers who bound their daughters' feet, or African mothers who hold their daughters while a granny slices off their clitorises, or American mothers who procure nose jobs, electrolysis, orthodontia, and diet pills for their daughters. All it took for Cindy was some soap and water and fancy clothes. She's the original makeover, the icon of hope for every woman who hunts the cosmetic counters with the fervor of Ponce de Leon searching for the fountain of youth.
"The Grimm psychologist vows Cindy's story is about virtue being rewarded, regardless of appearance. Even a ten-year-old kid reading a storybook or watching the Disney flick knows deep in her pubescent heart, that the prince would never have loved Cindy while she was dirty and dressed in rags. Are you sufficiently recovered to watch the big moment?"
Croesus wags his tail, and Elora waves her hand over the crystal ball. Paul appears, his hands held up in a questioning manner. Have you no other daughter? Luther says, No, except little Cinderella, daughter of my deceased wife, who cannot possibly be the bride.
Paul's eyes twinkle; he claps his hands together and shouts, Fetch her! Lavinia, sputters, She is too dirty; I dare not let her be seen. He sidles up to Lavinia. You're a sly one, he purrs, you're a little minx. Let me see the dainty feet you're hiding under those petticoats.
Before Lavinia melts into a giggling puddle, Luther fetches Cinderella, tells her to wash up and meet the prince. Paul glances down at her wooden clogs and his lips twitch in a most uncharming manner. Cinderella, eyes downcast, sits on a stool, and Paul hands her the gold shoe. The wooden clog clunks to the floor and Paul gasps rapturously. He falls to his knees, takes the shoe from Cinderella's hand and slips it onto her foot. It fits to a shade, and Paul shudders with pleasure. Lavinia, Sweetness, and Light turn purple with rage, and Luther slides out the back door. Paul sweeps Cinderella off her feet and the pair rides away to begin their happily ever after.
Elora snaps off the crystal ball. "The Grimm version of this tale says that after the wedding took place, the two sisters were smitten with blindness as a punishment for their wickedness. Wrong. They were smitten by Mother. Why would she punish the girls and not their mother, you may ask? Because Mother wanted Lavinia to witness the undisguisable disfigurement of her daughters, to be compelled to wait upon them hand and foot, and watch as they aged into spinsters. Quit shaking! I'm not going to show you what happened. I'll just say that when Mother finally lit on Cindy's shoulder that morning as she and Paul entered Charming Castle, her beak was stained red as a slaughterhouse floor."
* * *
Chapter Thirteen
Golden Slippers
It is nearing late August in the Charmed Kingdom, the dog days of a typically short, hot Grimm summer. Queen Cinderella rarely leaves the palace during daylight hours, King Paul is sun-browned as a fresh fig, and Beauty is large with child. She has searched every palace room for her mirror except Cinderella's own bedchamber. Of course, Prince Runyon has not arrived.
Her patience wearing thin, Beauty persuades Cinderella to provide her an escort through the city to look for Runyon. She climbs heavily into the royal carriage where Cinderella sits, cocooned in veil. Mother clings to a golden perch on the roof.
No sooner does the carriage enter the city than charming citizens pour from cottage doorways and line the pink crystal road. The two coachmen hop to the road and walk alongside the carriage to discourage anyone from approaching the windows, from which Cinderella waves a gloved hand. Beauty leans out the other window, searching the crowd for Runyon, but his face is not among the admirers. The streets grow shorter as they near the tip of the heart, and Beauty's heart grows tighter.
"Charming Cul-de-sac is the last street, Princess Beauty," Cinderella squeaks. Beauty anxiously scans the circle for Runyon's wheat blonde hair and arrogant stance. She sees only unfamiliar faces hoping for a rare glimpse of the queen. However, as the carriage turns to head back to the castle, Beauty spies a narrow dirt lane running off the right curve of the circle. Scuttling down the lane is an old woman, back bent, legs bowed, a walking stick in her right hand, and a red kerchief tied around her hair.
"Stop the carriage!" Beauty shouts. "I must follow that woman."
"You don't want to go down that lane," Cinderella squeals, her veil aquiver. "It's the entrance to Ash Grove. Anyhow, the carriage won't fit."
"I'm sure that woman has special powers," Beauty protests. "If anyone can find Runyon, she can."
Mother takes flight and flaps toward the old crone. Beauty watches Mother descend, the old woman whirl about, aim her stick and freeze the raven in mid-flap. With a cackle, she disappears behind a cider mill.
Beauty slowly steps out of the carriage and begins the long walk down the length of the lane. She is surprised to find the lane is shaded not by ash trees, but by ancient oaks. She passes under the suspended raven and looks behind the cider mill, but the old woman is gone.
When Beauty has waddled half way back toward the carriage, she finds Cinderella in a dither. She has tottered to the spellbound Mother and plucked her from the air. The queen cowers beneath her veil, emitting squeaks only dogs can hear. Beauty does not attempt to comfort Cinderella; a lesson she learned in Snow White's company. "Cinderella, the bird is alive. Its chest is moving." Beauty says matter-of-factly.
Cinderella stops keening and peeps, "Are you certain?"
"Yes. I am certain. If you move your veil aside . . . "
"No!" Cinderella shrieks, stepping backward. "They're watching me." Beauty looks to either side of the road. There are no charming subjects lining this lane nor charming white cottages trimmed in pink or red. The homes are tall and stately, though weathered; no picket fences divide neighbors. Rather than trim garden beds, stalks of corn heavy with ears stand alongside riotous sweet pea vines. Broad shady front porches are populated by silver-haired subjects exclusively.
Cinderella whispers harshly. "All the old people of Charmed Kingdom live in Ash Grove. When Paul's parents died, and we became king and queen, we wanted to make the kingdom more charming. The old wouldn't have it. Did they appreciate the charming cottages we built and the charming laws we passed?" Cinderella squeaks. "No. They refused to move from their ugly old houses and . . ."
"Yoo-hoo," a voice calls behind them. "Is that our little queen? Yoo-hoo. Cinderella. It's Maisee."
Beauty turns toward the voice and is shocked as Cinderella suddenly shuffles her feet with enough speed to jerk Beauty forward three steps. However, her speed is not sufficient to elude the woman who called from her porch, climbed down her steps, and is rushing to catch up.
"I can't believe it's Cindy," Maisee whistles through toothless gums. The braids encircling her head are the yellow white of aged ivory. She wears a sleeveless cotton dress and leather sandals. Her face is as weathered and lined as her old house and is, Beauty thinks, the merriest face she has ever seen. "Is this girl your daughter-in-law?"
Cinderella whines.
"I'm a visitor at Charming Castle. My name is Beauty."
"Cindy and I used to jump rope together. I still do it, but I jump with my grandchildren now," Maisee squints and peers at Cinderella's veil. "Why don
't you both come up to the porch for a glass of lemonade. Dorothy and Florence are up there. You remember them, don't you, Cindy?"
When the silence becomes too awkward for Beauty to bear, she says, "Thank you for your kind offer. Cinderella has just had an upsetting experience, so I'm afraid we must decline."
"Oh, dear. The bird, huh? Saw it happen. Don't worry, Cindy. It'll be right as rain in an hour. Just one of Elora's trifling spells. I heard her curse, Bricklebrit."
Pieces of memory fall into place like tumblers on a lock: the old lady wearing a red scarf in the ramshackle coop who explained the menarche; the old lady who sold Snow White's father the magic mirror; the old lady wearing a red kaffiyah who rescued Rapunzel and her children; the old lady in a red wimple at Rosamond's christening.
Beauty grabs Cinderella's arm. "We must return to the castle now, where we will find my mirror."
* * *
Because she swooned three times on the way back to Charming Castle, Cinderella is carried to her chamber and placed upon her heart-shaped bed. Mother is laid in a jewel-studded golden cage beside the bed. The room is enormous and cluttered; hundreds of glass jars, pots and pitchers top dozens of dressers. The centerpiece of the room, a vanity with a large convex mirror, holds a bottle labeled Violet Water, which Beauty decides will do to cool Cinderella's face.
Beauty searches the vanity top for a handkerchief with which to apply the water. She opens the first drawer jammed with hair ornaments and the second drawer jammed with waxes and colored creams. In the third drawer, she sees her own exasperated face staring back at her--her lost magic mirror!
"Uh-oh," Cinderella squeaks from her bed.
Beauty grabs the mirror and holds it before her face.
"Magic mirror, it's
a hassle
waiting here at
Charming Castle.
Mrs. Beast Page 15