Trembling, I stared at the rest of the gowns lying on the rug. My dirty foot had landed on the hem of one of them. I quickly moved my leg and bent over to pick up the gown, but there was a dark smudge on the deep green silk.
“Because I haven’t cleaned it yet, milady.” I tried to rub off the dark smudge against my own skirt. Too late I realized what a mistake I’d made. Even more smudges appeared on the dress after rubbing it.
“Clean it up at once.” The coldness of my mistress’s voice gave me shivers. Unfortunately, the shivers weren’t all from fear. Perhaps that was why I was in no hurry to learn how to be a proper cinders girl. “Leave that dress alone; you’ve already ruined it. You might as well have it.”
I looked at the smudged green dress in my hands.
It was a delicate, simple design that emphasized the more appealing curves of my figure. The color would make my face softer and emphasize the green of my eyes.
Without the smudges, I’d look every inch the proper lady.
Without the smudges, my mistress would never have given me the dress.
I folded the gown in two and slid it over my shoulder.
At my feet was a tangled mess of scarves, with a shoe or two caught in the mess. One of them was actually glass. Its heel had managed to slice one of the scarves in two.
“Those are the slippers I want,” my lady said.
Those were always the slippers she wanted. Sometimes she wore the most uncomfortable things, especially when she was to attend a ball or party. It was as if she wanted herself to suffer.
“Bring them to me.”
I bent over to fish her glass slipper out of the bits of scarf. Once I had it, I tried to extricate the other as gently as I could from the tangled sleeves of another pair of gowns. When I had both slippers in hand, I walked over to my mistress’s chair.
“You know what to do,” she said, her voice strangely husky.
Of course. This little ritual of putting on her slippers had become second nature to me. I kneeled, right before my mistress’s feet. I didn’t dare look at her face, but I could stare at her ankles as long as I wished. They were bony, but the shape of the protruding bone was exquisite. Every time I looked at it, I wanted to run my fingers over it.
The glass slipper was too small for her foot. I had to work her flesh into the shoe. It was an art I’d managed to perfect over the years. Stroking the arch of her foot, I slid her toes into the slipper. The flesh shivered at my touch, so it wiggled its way into the shoe’s interior. Once it was there, I tickled her heel, so it quivered its way into the back of the slipper.
It was a service no other maid could provide. I was the only one capable of getting those glass slippers on my mistress’s feet. It was why the Lady Ariella kept me around, even though I was a terrible servant.
This was our daily routine, or something very like it. I made a mess of everything else I ever did for my mistress, except ensuring that her shoes made it onto her feet. This was the only reason she hadn’t turned me out of her house, or so I thought.
Everything changed when an invitation to a prince’s ball came. My mistress had met the prince at a few previous soirees, plus she’d gone riding with him. The ride hadn’t lasted long.
“Vermin don’t deserve the treatment he inflicts upon good horses!” she’d snarled, throwing her gloves at me.
The sting of the leather against my cheek had given me another one of those odd shivers I associated with my mistress.
“The neighborhood pigs are more gentlemanly than His Highness!” She’d all but spat the last two words.
After the ride, Ariella avoided court functions, balls, and above all, rides. The messenger at the front door was a bit of a surprise, although I never saw him. It was my mistress’s footman who received the invitation. Claude was the only servant who could bother the Lady Ariella at any time. He insisted upon reading it to her in the parlor, alone.
Trembling, I listened at the crack in the servants’ door. Yes, I shouldn’t have been listening, but I couldn’t leave my mistress. Not alone with her footman. I could see Claude’s back, quivering with barely concealed eagerness. Such joy, especially in connection to a missive from the royal court didn’t bode well for my lady.
“The prince is having a ball. All maidens between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five are cordially invited to attend,” Claude announced.
I couldn’t see his face, but I could picture his somber expression. Beneath the carefully schooled seriousness would be a secret smile of joy. Claude was certain the Lady Ariella was meant for great things. Great things included marriage to a prince and one day becoming queen. Claude had never outright suggested such things to her. The hints he dropped, however, were extremely obvious. They did not endear him to our mistress.
Neither did his message.
“That lecherous lout!” Ariella snarled. The very air seemed to vibrate with her rage. I could feel it leaking through the wood of the door. “The ball is just an excuse so the prince can have all the women in the kingdom to paw at! I’m not going!” She stamped her foot, a childish habit she’d never managed to outgrow.
“You have to, madam.” Claude’s voice was courteous but severe. “It wouldn’t do for a woman of your rank and standing to refuse an invitation from Prince Hugh.”
“Especially when it may lead to other invitations in the future.” My mistress’s voice was so dry, it could have withered the fall harvest. “How many times do I have to tell you? He has no interest in finding a bride, just future conquests.”
“He can only conquer for so long before his duties catch up with him. You don’t want to be in disfavor with him when they do.” Claude’s words were as sharp in their severity, as Ariella’s words were dry. “Consider your position if you continue to insult him. Consider your family and those who serve you.”
Claude was one of the few people who dared to speak to my mistress in such a fashion. Not only was he distant kin but also an old friend. Plus, he had friends in the royal palace, or so it was said.
“I know.” My lady sighed. Her footsteps sounded, along with the angry swish of her gown, approaching the servants’ door. “Cinders! I know you’re out there listening! You might as well come in. I want to talk to you.”
I opened the door, a shudder running through my shoulders. I crossed the threshold, trying not to cringe at the ominous creak of the hinges behind me. Eyes on the floor, I took a few steps toward my mistress, trying not to trip over anything.
“All eligible maidens in the kingdom are invited to this ball.” Her full lower lip curled in disdain. “Would you like to go?”
Distracted by the sight of her mouth, it took a moment for her actual words to sink “Me? Go to the ball?” I stammered, overwhelmed by a vision of walking next to my lady, wearing the green dress.
A thousand candles would light up the room, creating a halo around her dark hair. I’d be right next to her, watching her smile, the tiny crinkles around her dark blue eyes when her expression was so beautifully, perfectly illuminated.
“Really?” I clapped a hand to my cheek, mindless of the soot I spread across my skin. “What should I wear? Can I wear the green dress?”
“Did you really think I was serious?” The coldness in my mistress’s voice shattered my daydream. “You, go to a ball? In the green dress I gave you, which you got smudges all over? Did you think to win the prince’s heart, or at least his temporary lust?”
“No!” I cried, looking up before I could think better of it.
Rage distorted Ariella’s face, as her lips pulled back to bare her teeth at me. There was a flicker of pain in her eyes, amid the anger.
I reacted to that, without thinking. “That’s not why I wanted to go!”
“It doesn’t matter why you want to go.” Ariella glared at me, a picture of perfect fury. She seemed to have completely forgotten that Claude was there, staring at her in a bemused fashion. “You’re not going! Get back to the kitchen. Get back to your cinders! Sto
p looking at my face with such impertinence, and don’t even think about going to this ball!”
Tears filled my eyes before I could attempt to swallow them. Staring at her feet, I backed away toward the door. Once I was far enough away, I turned around and fled. I ran to the kitchen, unable to keep from hearing my mistress’s conversation with the footman.
“Milady, I know you’re upset, but you really shouldn’t take your anger out on the cinders girl.” Claude’s voice was gentle but reproving.
“Shut up!” Ariella’s words were sharp, jagged with savagery. “The cinders girl is mine! She deserves no better!”
Those words made me cry all the more.
For the following week, I hid in the kitchen. There was no messing with my mistress’s wardrobe, no helping with her glass slippers. I crouched in the cinders, miserable, picturing the prince dancing with my lady. I imagined Ariella being forced to smile when she’d just as soon slap his face.
How could she have ever thought I’d want him to fall in love with me?
I rubbed some of the cinders on my cheeks, trying to wipe away the tearstains that streaked them.
“Do you really want to go to the ball that much?”
I looked up to see a woman sitting at the kitchen table. She wore a long hood and robe, like a monk. The hood covered her face, so I couldn’t really see her.
“Who are you?” I demanded. I stood up, looking around for a poker to brandish at the intruder. Maybe I was being impertinent, but these were my cinders. I’d defend them from anyone who tried to take them from me.
“Think of me as being your fairy godmother.” The woman chuckled, as if the very idea was ridiculous. “I’m here to grant your wish if you can convince me to do so. Why do you want to go to the ball so much? Do you really want to dance with the prince that badly?”
“No!” I glared at the cloaked woman. “It’s not that! I just thought…” My cheeks reddened as I looked down at the cinders.
“Just thought?” The stranger’s manner was gentle but encouraging.
In spite of myself, I found myself wanting to talk. “I just thought for one mad moment that my mistress was asking me to go to the ball with her.” The words came out in a rush. My cheeks grew very hot.
“I see.” The strange woman’s voice bore no trace of censure. “You do realize that if you went to the ball with your mistress, you’d spend little time together. She’d be dancing with the prince and the other gentlemen at the ball, as would you.”
“Oh.” I’d been so disturbed by the thought of Ariella dancing with a man she detested, I hadn’t really considered the possibility of dancing myself. “Yes, but if I was with her, I could protect her from the prince. If nothing else, I could spill a glass of wine down his tunic.”
A startled chuckle emerged from the stranger’s hood. “I suppose you could! Really, though, don’t you want to dance?”
This question surprised me. I considered the possibility. I imagined myself in the arms of a handsome man, being whirled around the dance floor. My thoughts turned to my mistress’s glass slippers, the clink they made on the floor.
“I don’t know.” I blinked, confused by my own inner visions. “I’ve never danced before.”
“You should.” The stranger’s voice was soft, almost sad. “Every woman should dance at least once in her life.” She stood up and pushed the chair back behind her. “All right, you’ve convinced me. Follow me.”
I did as I was told, slightly bewildered by her words.
She walked over to the kitchen door, and opened it. “Go on.” She held the door open for me. “Tonight, you shall be every inch the lady your mistress is.”
I paused and stared at the path ahead of me, leading out into my lady’s garden. “What do you mean?” Some of my former suspicion had returned.
My “fairy godmother” seemed kind, but for all I knew, she meant to murder me, bury my body in the pumpkin patch, and rob my mistress’s kitchen.
“Would you like to find out?” A slightly mocking note entered her voice. It reminded me of my lady when she was feeling playful. The similarity reassured me.
I walked over to the door. An odd shiver ran down my spine when I passed by the waiting figure of my fairy godmother. I could feel the intensity of her scrutiny, even through her hood. Watching her out of the corner of my eye, I headed out into the garden.
She followed me, closing the door behind us. We stood in the middle of a gathering of ripe pumpkins. My lady has an odd fondness for the giant orange gourds. She enjoys carving shapes out of them when they are hollowed out. Don’t ask me why.
The fairy godmother walked through the garden, avoiding the vines on the ground as if she were completely familiar with the place.
I followed her, trying not to trip.
“Ah, here’s a good one!” she said with satisfaction. The fairy godmother pointed to a large pumpkin, nested in a tangle of green vines. “You’ll go to the ball in style with this.”
“Very funny,” I said sarcastically. “That happens to be a special pumpkin my mistress has been waiting to—what?!”
The fairy godmother pointed at the pumpkin with a long, thin finger. It pulled itself free from the ground to float in the air. It bobbed up and down, a nimbus of golden light forming around it, the vines trailing out, dancing in the wind. The pumpkin expanded, its exterior changing from orange to gold.
I stared, my mouth hanging open at the sight of the impossible. The vines wrapped themselves around the pumpkin, embracing it almost lovingly. Each tendril became a delicate, curling filigree. Only they weren’t clinging to a pumpkin. Not any longer. It was a golden coach. It drifted down to hover, slightly above the ground.
I moved a little closer to what should have been a pumpkin and reached out cautiously to touch its smooth, shining surface before I could consider recalling it. Yes, it felt like metal, not gourd.
This coach was big enough for four people to sit inside. It appeared to float, rather than rest upon wheels. There was a coachman’s seat on the outside. Both the seats and the filigree were made of the same shining metal. It wasn’t silver or gold. I’d never seen its like before. It was as if the starlight itself had been captured in its gleam.
This transformation was utter madness, yet it had happened right in front of me. I considered some of the strange books my mistress would read when no one was around.
“Is this magic?” I asked. The coach seemed very real. It sat gleaming in the middle of the pumpkin patch. Pearls peeked out of the filigree, only visible if you looked closely at the design. The pearls were shaped like pumpkin seeds.
“No, it’s a trick of the light.” The stranger snorted in amusement. “Of course it’s magic! You’ll need someone to drive your coach, as well as a footman. Well, I can do both.”
The stranger disappeared. A man stood in her place, dressed in a green frock coat and tails. His wig, stockings, and general bearing were all immaculate, but he winked at me in a roguish way.
“I look like a very proper servant, don’t I?” he said, but his voice was the stranger’s.
I nearly fell over in shock. “What’s this? What are you doing?”
“Taking you to the ball, of course.” He…she…studied me critically. “You can’t go dressed like that.”
“Of course,” I said faintly. Pumpkins turning into coaches, the stranger turning into a footman, the next impossible trick would be turning a cinders girl into a lady. “I suppose you can just change me, too, so I’ll be dressed properly.”
“Of course!” she said, grinning. There was something about the footman’s delight that reminded me of my mistress when she was feeling mischievous. It made me protest a lot less than I might have about all the magic. “Close your eyes and imagine yourself dressed for the ball,” the footman said, waving a slender hand. “What do you want to look like?”
I closed my eyes. I thought of the green dress my mistress had given me. I pictured myself wearing the silken gown, my eyes glowing w
ith a matching green light. I pictured my hair, clean and gleaming, tumbling over my shoulders.
The irritation of constant dirt under my fingernails vanished. I opened my eyes to look down at my hand. Never had it been so white or free of cinders. I reached up to touch my head and stared at a lock of gleaming, brown hair, lying on my bare breast. For the first time, it was a tress, not a tangle. The tress felt wondrously soft.
I looked down at myself to see the dress, its skirt free of the smudges I’d left on it. I moved my hand from my hair to the skirt to feel its silkiness. If only I could see myself. I wanted to know, if I looked the way I’d wished to. If I looked like someone worthy of standing by Ariella’s side.
“Am I beautiful?” My voice came out breathless. I did a little twirl and the skirts flared out around me.
“More beautiful than your mistress could ever hope to be.” The footman smiled almost sadly at me. “Come along, get into the coach, milady. The ball awaits you.” She bowed before she opened the door for me.
After lifting my skirts, I walked carefully to where the coach was.
The footman took my hand and helped me up onto a cushioned seat, which awaited me inside the coach. My flaring skirts fanned out around me, but it was a comfortable seat.
I lifted my legs, as if I was a little girl going for my first coach ride. When I looked down at my feet, I realized I was barefoot.
“One thing is missing.” My footman/fairy godmother’s voice deepened, becoming huskier. She extended a gloved hand to reveal a glass slipper in the palm.
“That’s one of my mistress’s glass slippers!” I exclaimed, tumbling over my own skirts as I slid sideways on the cushions.
“Yes, they are your mistress’s slippers since this is your mistress’s pumpkin,” the footman said. “Come on, give me your foot.”
I hesitated. She was asking for my foot. Feet were a far more intimate matter than pumpkin coaches, or even dresses. Just thinking about my fingers caressing the heel of my lady’s foot was enough to heat up my cheeks.
Once Upon the Rainbow, Volume Two Page 12