Roses and Black Glass: a dark Cinderella tale

by Lenore, Lani

  “Don’t be a fool, Christian. You won’t be anything without that money.”

  Christian sat back against the seat in defeat, crossing his arms before him. He hated it, but it was true: he was being forced to marry someone like his mother. They all thought that money and looks were the most important things in the world. He swore he never would, but it was inevitable. He was destined to be his father: walked on and unstable in every way. He would be like his brothers before him.

  The carriage came to a halt in front of the park by a stream. He would admit that though he dreaded the company, the scenery was lovely – though it hardly lifted his spirits. It had been Mrs. Madison’s idea that they have a picnic in the park instead of dining indoors, since it was such a fine day. He looked up to see the woman now, coming towards the carriage to greet them both. He smirked slightly when he saw her. Her age was showing, though she was trying to hide it. She had not aged as well as his own mother.

  “Mrs. Charming,” Anna addressed with a respectable bow in acknowledgment. “It is absolutely splendid to have you and your handsome son to lunch with us today.”

  “Thank you, Anna, for allowing our company,” said Mrs. Charming graciously.

  Christian was quite tired of this already, though he had just arrived. Despite his discomfort and annoyance, he quickly slipped into his public guise – tolerant, yet mordant only to his own understanding.

  “Mrs. Madison,” he addressed with a short bow. “Looking as lovely as possible today, aren’t we?”

  “Only my best for you and your mother,” she said.

  “I’m sure it is,” Christian noted with a spell-binding smile.

  His mother gave a disapproving look. Having had to deal with Christian’s hidden rudeness for quite some time, she was usually quick to the way he thought.

  The two women walked on before Christian and out toward the picnic site. The young man lingered a bit, but only just long enough to fall behind them so that he wouldn’t have to hear their idle banter first-hand. It was sickening to hear the conversation of women. Utterly sickening.

  Hoping to continue the trek alone, Christian was disappointed to hear the footsteps across the grass behind him. He sighed in annoyance, but stopped his pace. It would soon have been interrupted nonetheless.

  “Christian, there you are!” said Charlotte as she approached.

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” said Isabella flatly. “Why don’t you come join us?”

  Christian offered what little smile he could and turned to greet them. Acting more of a gentleman than he was or would like to be, he offered his arm to Charlotte and ignored the other sister. Isabella curled her lips at him when she smiled curtly, while Charlotte only smiled sweetly and took Christian’s arm to lead him to the site where the food was spread.

  “Oh, Christian!” the younger girl began, “I must tell you about what happened earlier! It was horrible! I was simply minding my own business when–”

  Christian found his way to the picnic blanket and sat down with Charlotte as Isabella drifted behind them and made her way slowly and sulkily. The annoyance had finally stopped when Charlotte had finished her story that Christian wasn't listening to. Now, everything was silent as he stared out over the picnic scene, already completely dressed and spread with food. The drinks were poured and the plates were set. No servant needed to be present. Christian’s mother may have been fooled by the van Burrens’ desperate attempts to look prosperous, but he was not. They had covered up everything quite well and Mrs. Charming no doubt thought it was quite sophisticated.

  “Why Anna, what a lovely set-up you have here! It was a splendid idea to dine in the park, and you really must commend your kitchen servant on this fine set-up."

  “It was actually Isabella’s idea to dine here. It’s such a lovely day! My servant then insisted on setting up early so that she might get back to her duties at the house,” Anna explained. “She is not here to serve us at this time.”

  “She must be quite the avid worker,” said Samantha, quite impressed.

  “Oh yes,” Charlotte chimed in. “She’s very loyal.”

  The five of them began helping themselves to the food. Samantha found all of this quite amusing and exciting, feeling as though she was fixing the meal herself – this from a woman who couldn’t even fry an egg. Christian touched none of the food, even after Charlotte offered repeatedly. The man’s gaze was frozen on Isabella who casually sipped her tea as he glared. Finally, she caught sight of him and peered back with confused eyes.

  “What?” she asked innocently, giving a sweet smile.

  She thought he was only staring at her for the way she looked, but as he peered on from beneath his dark brows, he didn’t change his harsh expression in the slightest.

  “You know what,” he said simply, finally lifting his tea glass.

  Isabella stared back at him in confusion a moment, but after a moment of wondering, she gave up, finding it impossible to read into his mind. She gulped quietly and looked away.

  “Did you receive your invitation?” Samantha asked, not paying attention to the controversy between her son and Isabella.

  “Yes,” said Charlotte, neglecting to mention that they had only received it yesterday. “We would be very happy to attend.”

  “That is good,” Mrs. Charming said. “I feared that you wouldn’t receive it in time. The messenger swore he would only carry very few messages at once!”

  He was encouraged by a bit of bribery, Christian mused to himself, taking a drink to hide his smirk.

  “I am simply glad that you remembered us,” said Isabella with a winning smile.

  Christian shook his head. What wouldn’t he give for a pistol at this moment? He could end his misery – kill himself or kill her. Either would do.

  Samantha however, seemed quite pleased with Isabella’s smile and personality.

  “How wonderful! They are such wonderful young ladies, aren’t they Christian?”

  “Of course, mother,” he said. “Quite entertaining.”

  “Why thank you, Christian,” said Charlotte, pleased.

  Isabella, however, could see his insincerity. She continued to fake her smile, but refused to look at him for long.

  “Congratulations on turning twenty-one,” Anna said. “I hear the party will be quite the celebration.”

  Samantha smiled proudly. The event had been planned by her. Her moment of glory only lasted a moment, however, before her son ruined it.

  “An elaborate party to celebrate my parents kicking me out of their house,” he mused. “Sounds like a grand time to me.”

  “Christian!” his mother scolded, looking embarrassed. “You know that isn’t true. He’ll be given Blackfield manor – my father’s house.”

  “The one in the countryside of Harrington Banks? That sounds majestic, doesn’t it girls?” Anna’s eyes flashed like two silver coins. “Clearly your mother favors you, Christian, to have given you the biggest estate.”

  She only saved the biggest prize for last. We’re all having to jump through hoops to get it.

  “I know you must be tired of talking about it, Samantha,” Anna went on, “but do tell me how you have decorated for the party. I must know if our dresses will clash.”

  Enough of this.

  Christian pulled himself up from the blanket abruptly, having heard as much of this as he was willing to. He didn’t want to talk about this now. It depressed him greatly.

  “If you ladies would excuse me, I think I need a smoke. Is that alright?” he asked Anna curtly.

  Anna was frozen for a moment by his harsh speech and domineering stare, but finally she shook it away.

  “Yes, of course,” she sputtered.

  He had pulled the black cigarette as soon as he'd begun walking away, only waiting a short moment before lighting it.

  Isabella watched Christian depart and then turned back to face the other two ladies. Samantha was watching her son go with an angry scowl. Looking at her own mo
ther, Isabella noticed the look on her face. The woman glanced at Christian and made a head motion towards him. Finally, the task at hand hit Isabella.

  “Oh! Right,” she said, standing. “Come along, Charlotte.”

  “Oh, of course,” said Charlotte, promptly putting down the dinner roll she was about to bite into. “Wait, Christian! We’ll come with you!”

  The two girls bounded after the departing man and followed down to the water. Mrs. Charming watched them all go in disapproval and apologetically turned back to her hostess.

  “I’m dreadfully sorry about the way he’s acting. So embarrassing! Something has gotten into him lately.” She shook her head. “Four brothers before him and none of them acted this way. Thank God he’s the last.”

  “Young people are quite hard to deal with sometimes,” said Anna. “But I must admit my girls are of that special perfect few who are very obedient.”

  “I don’t doubt it at all,” Samantha said. “They are both delightful girls. I must ask however – and it just occurred to me the other day that I wanted to ask it – but whatever happened to the Madison girl? Didn’t your late husband have a daughter of his own?”

  Anna had known that one day she would be forced the answer this question. She had no worries; it was all planned out.

  “Sadly, she is no longer with us,” Anna said.

  “Do you mean that she’s died?” Samantha asked, putting a calming hand to her chest.

  “Oh no, of course not. The girl left shortly after her father passed and went to live with an aunt and uncle in Massachusetts.”

  “You don’t say,” said Samantha in consideration. “I suppose. I was wondering why I never saw her.”

  “She told us that she didn’t want to be here – that she wanted to be with her real family. She was quite rude about it really,” Anna scandalized, lifting a cup carefully to her mouth.

  “What a horrible thing!” exclaimed Samantha.

  “We have gotten over it in time,” Anna assured her, “but, we still miss her. Having her around reminded me of Charles, who I still miss dearly.”

  Samantha put a sympathetic hand on the woman’s shoulder as Anna smiled within herself. She would be modest about it. Honestly though, she liked the attention, and as long as she could draw from it, she would do so.

  2

  Christian smoked calmly, watching Charlotte take off her shoes and wade through the water at the edge of the stream. Isabella stood beside him, also watching silently. She knew he had wanted to be alone, but she couldn’t have her mother thinking that she truly had feelings for him. That would ruin many things that they had planned.

  Isabella watched the smoke roll from his mouth as he continued to refuse her his gaze. The young woman craved those eyes on her always, and it killed her inside when he would not grace her with his admiration. His eyes belonged on her skin. No one else’s.

  After a few moments of standing there and being ignored, Isabella could no longer stand his silence. She took it upon herself to break it.

  “Do you think us wicked?” she asked, keeping her voice out of Charlotte’s reach.

  “Depends on what you mean by wicked,” he mused, refusing to look back at her.

  “Perhaps that wasn’t the proper word,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you think us wretched? Do you think we are wretched girls?”

  He stood in silence a moment, looking out over the water.

  “At times,” he said honestly.

  Isabella stood in defeat. A while ago, she would have said that it would do well for him to think she was wretched – even wicked – but not now. The time was growing nearer for him to choose, and strangely she could feel that she was no longer in the lead. She had no idea who might have beaten her, however. Knowing him, he would pick the most obscure lady he could find just to spite those who tried hardest.

  “We aren’t just after your money, you know,” she assured him.

  “Oh? Not just my money. You aren’t happy with just that? I suppose you’re interested in the manor and the land, the name–”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said heatedly, stomping her foot against the ground.

  “Watch that temper,” he warned. “It’s unbecoming of a lady.”

  “Why must you tease me so? Are you trying to push me away?”

  “In a way,” he said, still refusing to look at her.

  “You would have me to leave you alone then? You would ignore me?”

  She looked on at him as he breathed more smoke. He said nothing to this, which made her feel hopeful.

  “You say nothing," she pointed out. "Is it possible that you have feelings for me?”

  “Don’t take my silence to mean anything. You assume much,” he said.

  “But you gave me no answer. If you can’t say it, then there must be something there.”

  “No,” he said uncaringly, finally turning with cold eyes to look into hers.

  The girl took a deep breath, feeling heartbroken. “So I have no chance at all?”

  He sighed over the water. Was it not obvious to her? Anyone else could have seen it. Was she so ignorant?

  “You would marry my money,” he told her, looking at the smoking end of his cigarette. “I don’t think you can convince me otherwise.”

  “That’s what she wants me to marry you for,” the girl insisted, meaning her conniving mother. “It isn’t what I want. I am in love with you. Nothing less.”

  “But most certainly nothing more,” he confirmed, looking away.

  “Why will you not believe me?” she asked, raising her voice a bit, pulling on his coat to turn him toward her again.

  “You had your chance!” he said, cutting her off forcefully, but keeping his voice low. “I’ve been more than fair, Isabella. I’ve given everyone a chance.” He shook his head. “I haven’t been impressed.”

  “What will you marry for then?” she asked, feeling desperate and sorrowful. “Since you care about nothing.”

  “I will marry for necessity and obligation. I won’t say that I will look for nothing, though I don’t know what to look for.” He paused to laugh. “Perhaps I am being a bit unfair. I shun those who want to marry me for money, yet in reality, I too am getting married for money’s sake.”

  “You have not answered me,” she said. “Do I have a chance at all? Will you not choose me?”

  Christian stood in silence a moment. He was unsure of what he would do. He supposed he would wait until the last moment and then marry whoever was in his good graces. He didn’t want to get this girl’s hopes too high, for he knew not what he would choose.

  “I don’t know,” he said, honestly, and she knew it was the truth because of the way he looked into her eyes.

  The two stared back at each other for several moments, neither one smiling. Isabella wondered what the young man was thinking, while Christian only wondered why he was still standing here with her.

  “I don’t love you,” he said quite bluntly, to assure no confusion.

  A small smile reached Isabella’s lips and she lowered her head. “I know,” she said. “But perhaps, over time…”

  He began to shake his head slowly in assurance.

  “I could never love anything,” he said. “You would still have me?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Why should I stop loving you simply because you don’t return it?”

  He stood in silence, peering at her. How could she say this? What would there be for her then? There was something not right about this girl. He remembered a time when he had gotten up in the morning and wouldn’t be pleased with himself until he’d found something to annoy her with. For a while, he’d had something very special to bring up, which never failed to irritate her. When he wanted to make her eyes narrow comically and her mouth shrivel like a prune, he would merely ask her about Cinderella. How is Cinderella? Tell Cinderella I said hello. Eventually, that too had ceased to amuse him and he hadn’t mentioned it in years.

  But he had not forgott
en that girl with the dark hair and blushing lips. He remembered her now.

  “What about your step-sister?” he asked unexpectedly. “What ever became of her?”

  Isabella turned to face him in confusion and anger. Where had that come from? All these years that she had tried so hard to keep Cindy away from him and still he thought about her?

  “Cindy?” she asked, baffled. “Why would you ask about her now?”

  “Why get so defensive?”

  “I’m not,” she said, huffing and regaining herself. “I was just curious as to why you would think of her so suddenly, especially when talking about marriage.”

  “And so?” he asked, ignoring that. “What about Cinderella?”

  Isabella huffed in disgust, hating the sound of him saying the name she’d chided the girl with these past years.

  “I told you, she doesn’t live with us anymore,” she lied. It was the same lie she had told him before. “She has gone to live with her aunt and uncle in Massachusetts. I think she married off to some shoemaker or something, last I heard.”

  Christian stopped short in his smoke. He said nothing as he stood in thought. So, she was gone. He had been right all those years ago about never seeing her again. Painfully right…

  Isabella held her jealousy within. She wondered greatly if he would even think to ask about her if she was gone herself. All of a sudden, the hell that she had given Cindy so far didn’t seem to be enough. Time was growing short. She had to do something drastic. Isabella gripped the man’s coat, pulling herself close to him. She looked at him with hopeless longing.

  “Come to the house tonight,” she begged sensuously. “I’ll leave the kitchen door unlocked for you. You can come up the back stairs. My room will be open.” Her hand slid across the front of his pants. “So will I.”

  Christian couldn’t say that he wasn’t stirred by the sound of this, or by the feel of her fingers treading across his trousers that were growing tighter. He didn’t love her, but would it defile him to defile her? He let his lips drift close to hers.

  “You know that it would ruin you for any other man,” he whispered to her, letting their lips brush.