Roses and Black Glass: a dark Cinderella tale

by Lenore, Lani

  Christian was unhappy with this turn, but he allowed her to pull from his embrace.

  “Are they really that bad to you, Cinderella?”

  She said nothing, but turned to walk away. She had to get away from him before he could make her beg for salvation.

  Yes, please, Christian. I’ll be yours and never leave your side if you will make it all go away.

  I can’t do this. I can’t let him save me. I have to do it myself.

  “Wait,” he called. His voice stopped her automatically.

  He walked into her path, placing his hands on her arms.

  “You won’t see me again, and yet you won’t tell me why,” he began. “I won’t have you walk away from me like this. I must take it by your silence that they do treat you wrongly.” He paused and then added: “I saw your room.”

  She was shocked further into silence by these words. When had he been in her room? She felt her face flush with embarrassment.

  “Let me just say this,” he said carefully, slipping into her thoughts. “If there is ever anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask. I think there is something between us. I know. I think we were meant to have met, but since you deny me, I can only assume there is another reason for our meeting. There is something we are meant to do together, so promise me you will ask. I will not turn you away.”

  Though she’d been embarrassed, she couldn’t overlook how genuinely he was reaching out to her. Cindy smiled as she watched the soft wind play with his hair. Tilting her head, she pushed herself upward and pressed her lips to his. He did not try to get more from her than she wanted to give him, and when she pulled herself away, he did not urge her back.

  “I promise,” she whispered.

  Cindy then took her eyes away and walked past him to exit the grounds through the far end of the courtyard. She felt she had done what she had come to do. They had certainly reconnected, and she had his ring in her hand. Now there was only to get home by midnight - before the magic of the roses was done.

  4

  “My, they sure do seem cozy, don’t they?”

  It was their mother’s voice that disrupted the van Burren sisters as they stared out into the courtyard. Charlotte turned to glance at her mother before looking back. Isabella did not move.

  Christian was off chatting with some young woman, and while many had noticed, most of them had withdrawn from their curiosity and gone back to the party. Others had simply left. This particular group of three would not leave until the last person was gone, and Isabella and Charlotte were content to do nothing but stare on at the woman who might have stolen their prince from them.

  They could only see her from the back where she sat on a bench far across the courtyard, noticing that she was wearing a red dress and had exquisite black hair.

  “They’re talking like he’s known her forever, and yet I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her before,” Charlotte said quietly. Isabella said nothing.

  “You have no idea who she is?” Anna asked, looming over her girls. They were so used to it that they thought nothing of it.

  Charlotte shook her head in desperation. Isabella also shook her head slowly with a sharp expression on her face.

  “I’ll see if I can find out anything,” Anna told them, passing back out onto the floor to try and pick up some gossip.

  The sisters only stood there, staring as the gentle wind blew into their faces.

  “Christian will return to us eventually,” Charlotte ventured. “He always does. Perhaps we should just try to enjoy the party?”

  Isabella didn’t respond, still staring off at the girl who she did not recognize. How could she turn away? Here was this man she loved, sitting with another woman. Perhaps it was just to spite her? No; Isabella was beginning to see the truth. He had no interest in her other than the way he was able to cause her distress, but she had never thought that he would have anyone else either. She watched Christian with this girl now, her gaze affixed with unrelenting scrutiny.

  She saw him sit down beside her; so close. Too close. She watched him move in to kiss her. Isabella grew hot beneath her skin. She watched the young woman with dark hair rise up and try to leave. He stopped her. She kissed him before she departed through the courtyard, vanishing into the dark countryside as if she had only been a ghost.

  Christian watched the woman until she was out of sight, and then he was coming back toward the house. Isabella withdrew back inside so that she would not be seen through the window. She hadn’t even noticed that Charlotte had left her side. Her mind was filled with thoughts of fury, but she tried to calm herself.

  In the end, Christian would choose her. She was not going to give him a choice.

  Chapter Seven

  Some time passed after Cindy had left the Charming manor, and she had made her way home in the black carriage with black horses that had been waiting outside for her – another gift from Amanda’s roses. Her head was filled with fond thoughts of Christian, his kiss still fresh on her lips. Part of her still wasn’t sure if it had been merely a dream, but even if it had, she believed that she and Christian had seized their moment, and she would hold onto it for as long as she could.

  Cindy’s dress had faded away after midnight, which had only been a few moments before she had gotten to her home on the hill. The carriage floor had been covered with bloody rose petals, leaving her naked, but she had managed to get into the house without anyone seeing her. She’d arranged herself back in her work clothes and looked like her usual, unpainted self as if the black magic had never touched her. She had beaten her family home, and they would be none the wiser.

  Her heart had settled, she took a deep breath and grasped Christian’s ring in her hand, moving toward Amanda’s room. Cindy couldn’t say that she was entirely satisfied with the night’s events, but for a moment, perhaps she actually had been happy. The girl had enjoyed seeing Christian again.

  Perhaps too much.

  Coming around the dark corner, Cindy peeked in through the cracked door of Amanda's room. Everything was quiet inside and Cindy wondered if the woman was even present. Could she have deserted her? Soon, a voice reached the creeping girl’s ears.

  “Come in. Don’t be bashful,” Amanda’s voice instructed.

  As the girl entered, she saw that Amanda was positioned on the bed near the nightstand. Her back was turned to the door and her eyes were closed in concentration. As Cindy came closer, she could plainly see an object lying on the blanket. She recognized it quickly as her step-mother’s broach. For a moment, the sight of it troubled her. If Amanda stole from the house, Cindy would be blamed for it.

  “That’s Anna’s,” she said, staring at the broach as it glistened in the candlelight.

  “Don’t worry over it, dear. Did you have a good time at the party?” Amanda asked, still refusing to open her eyes.

  “I – yes, I did,” Cindy said, deciding to be honest. “Christian and I talked quite a bit. He seemed glad to see me.”

  “Of course he was. Did you get the ring?”

  “He gave it to me. All I had to do was ask for it.” Cindy placed the ring on the quilt. The woman with the locks of wine folded her hand around the ring, grasping it tightly. She did not explain what she would use it for.

  “Now, Cindy, there is something I must say to you, which is the main reason I have come to this house and shown you all of this.”

  “What is it?” Cindy asked as she sat down politely on the floor so as not to dirty the bed.

  Amanda took a deep breath to cleanse her mind.

  “There is a place,” she began, “where you and your father used to leave each other things. This place was secret to everyone else and you used to leave notes and such there, correct? It was in a dark place.”

  Cindy knew what the woman spoke of. The secret place – it was in the morgue. She and her father had a special box there where they would leave each other notes that no one else knew about. It was how they communicated without Anna knowing what they w
ere planning. This was how they planned all their special outings for just the two of them, and where Cindy would complain about her new sisters.

  “Yes,” Cindy acknowledged. “There is a place.”

  Amanda took another deep breath. “Something is there for you now.”

  “How?” Cindy asked. “It's in the morgue. The mortuary is shut away. No one can get inside.”

  “There was a door beside the stairs,” said Amanda, eyes closed.

  “Yes, but it is sealed now,” Cindy said. “There is no way inside the place.”

  “How long has it been since you have checked for the door?” the woman asked.

  Cindy contemplated this a moment. She had not needed to check for the door, because she knew that it wasn’t there. Anna had replaced the wall over it just after her father’s death. But Amanda had shown her impossible things already, and Cindy had no reason to doubt.

  “Do you mean to say that if I go back and check, the door might be there?”

  “Perhaps,” Amanda confirmed slyly. “You should go and look. The thing that is down there for you is very important.”

  Cindy didn’t know how she could believe this, but she turned to leave the room. She was stopped at the door when Amanda spoke up again.

  “Take great care that you keep yourself under control when you find what you are looking for,” Amanda warned. “It will not be easy. When you have found it, come back and speak with me.”

  Cindy thought her words strange, but now her curiosity grew more and she knew she had to venture to the stairway.

  Stepping down the hall, she could see the impossible door in front of her before she reached the end. It looked as if the plaster had been peeled away, the edges jagged. Tiny pieces still crumbled away and fell as she approached with small steps. Her heart began to beat faster in anticipation. What would she find behind the door in the secret place?

  Hidden in a drawer, there was a small box where notes would be left by her father to her and likewise, from her to her father. She had not been able to check it after her father had died - not that she'd thought there would be anything there. It had never occurred to her that there might have been something she'd missed. Now, clenching the doorknob, Cindy pulled open the door to let herself in, unsure of what exactly she would find.

  She went down the weakened steps into the waiting hall. The air was damp and musty. It was dark and the spiders had already made their presence known. Cindy pushed through the cobwebs and made her way to the windows, pulling the drawn curtains away. The full moon outside illuminated the area through the dust-covered panes.

  Taking unsure steps, Cindy crossed the hallway and went on to the mortuary door. Turning the handle, she pulled it open and waved the dust from her face. Within, she could see a faint light, and she noticed that a lantern on one of the tables was lit. How…?

  Trying to ignore the sour smells, Cindy crossed the room and went towards the light, under which was the drawer with the box. Her heart sped once more in worry as to what she would find. What had her father left for her?

  Looking at the dresser top, her eyes fell across some of her father’s old tools, some still covered with dried blood. She smelled the metallic scent that she was so accustomed to and sorted through the things to find the drawer key. Locating it and taking it in her hand, she unlocked the drawer and pulled it out quickly. The box was still there, covered in dust.

  She took a deep breath as she lifted the lid to reveal the secret item. Staring up at her was a folded letter. The paper had been bound with string and was obviously several years old. For a moment, she wondered if she even wanted to read it, for she feared the worst. An unsettling feeling hung in the air.

  I have to, she told herself. I have to see what he left me. I owe him that.

  Breathing deeply to try and ease herself, dread filled her as she lifted the yellowed paper and began to read the scribbled writing.

  My dearest Cindy,

  If you are reading this letter, I am already gone from you. I have died, but do not fear. I’m sure I am happy in death. I am with your mother, after all.

  I’m sorry that I must give you this burden, but I felt that you should know the truth. It was hard for me to accept as well, but here I am, face to face with death and I finally believe – only it is too late. I feel myself growing weaker by the day. I fear I will not last much longer.

  Cindy, I am writing you this note and have asked the doctor to leave it in our special place because I know you will be the only one to find it there. I only wish for you to see this and no one else. The truth is, dearest daughter, that I am not sick by nature.

  I have been fed this illness from the spoon of your step-mother. She and her wicked daughters poisoned me slowly, little by little. It was hard for me to accept, but I smelled the poison in the food and medicine! Now that I know, I have stopped eating what they bring, but I fear it is too late. I am growing sicker and I cannot speak, but only to write these truths.

  None of them are innocent! All three of them conspired to keep me sick! I was blind not to see that they were wicked women and were using me for gain. Cindy, you are the only one left now. I pray they do not do the same to you. I am greatly troubled by these events.

  I don’t pray that you avenge me, dear daughter. I do, however, want you to have what is rightfully yours. I was not able to change my will. I tell you, take back what is rightfully yours. Reclaim our name! I had no idea that this would come about and I’m sorry for any pain I caused you. I did not know any better.

  I love you, dearest, and send all my support with you.

  Love,

  Your Father

  Charles Madison

  Cindy could hardly read the entire letter for her tears of rage. Her hands shook with fury as burning tears rolled down her face. She dropped the letter immediately and clenched her hands to her head to stop the throbbing.

  “This can’t be,” she sobbed in disbelief. “This cannot be!”

  Turning, she ran blindly toward the hall, anger overtaking her. Reaching the waiting hall, Cindy stormed straight into Amanda’s awaiting arms, shaking violently. Amanda ran her long fingers through the girl’s hair, trying to silence her.

  “How could they?” Cindy muttered. “How could they?”

  “Shhh,” Amanda urged gently. “You must be silent about this now. You needed to know, but you must promise to control yourself. It is not the time.”

  “You knew of this?” Cindy asked, pushing herself back from the woman who was such a stranger to her.

  Amanda wiped the girl’s tears in a motherly fashion. “Your father’s troubled spirit came to me and told me of the letter he left for you. He has watched and is greatly distressed at how they are treating you,” she said. “All will happen in due time. I promise you that. I have come to help.”

  Cindy managed to stop her shaking, but the tears still fell. “And that is the real reason why you are here?”

  The woman nodded, running hands through Cindy’s hair.

  “I have come to help you reclaim what is yours, and – though your father didn’t request it – I am a firm believer in revenge. They are even wickeder than I for what they did to you, Cindy.”

  The girl nodded.

  “But not yet,” Amanda urged her. “You must continue to act as you were, not letting them know that you are aware of their sins. Bide your time.”

  Cindy nodded and wiped some of her own tears away. Amanda continued to examine the girl’s hair carefully. Finally she spoke.

  “Your hair is quite lovely,” she noted. “So shiny. It has the texture of black glass.”

  Cindy could hardly hear the words, which seemed like pointless chit-chat to her. Instead, Amanda spoke again.

  “Would you give it to me?”

  Cindy looked up with red eyes in confusion. “Cut my hair?” she asked, “but I haven’t cut it since…”

  “Since your father died,” Amanda finished for her. "I know."

  “He said my hai
r always reminded him of my mother. I swore I’d never cut it again.”

  “Do you trust me?” the woman asked.

  Cindy took a deep breath. Of course she trusted her by now. Though she had promised herself she would never cut it, if it would aid them in their plans, she would have to consent.

  “Alright,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

  Amanda led the girl back upstairs into her room. Tying two white ribbons around her hair, Amanda took a long knife and cut the hair evenly at length with Cindy’s shoulders. Cindy cried through the cutting, but not for the hair itself. She knew that Anna had been interested in her father for his wealth, but she had never suspected murder. She couldn't stop imagining Isabella and Charlotte bringing him a cup of tea and chatting happily about their day as if there wasn’t poison in the cup. If she had known – if she had even suspected – she would have burned this place to the ground years ago.

  When Cindy was aware that an enormous weight had been removed from her head, the girl looked at her reddened face in the mirror as Amanda folded the hair and put it away in a drawer.

  Hearing loud voices from downstairs, Cindy got an instant headache. The murderers had returned.

  “Go to your room and try to get some sleep,” Amanda instructed hastily. “Lock yourself in tight until morning and ignore your sisters, should they come by. Things will be quite different tomorrow.”

  Cindy nodded and left the room, hoping to get some sleep, but sure she would find none.

  Chapter Eight

  1

  Cindy’s night was filled with sleeplessness and unsettling dreams. Aside from the same dream that the heavens shared with her about her mother and the demon, many other strange visions kept her awake through the night. Despite what Amanda had commanded of her, it was hard for her to keep the sick ideas of her father’s death from her mind. How could she continue to act the same around the people who had conspired to kill her beloved father? How was she to serve them when she wanted only to spill their blood? She trusted Amanda deeply and believed her words. She, however, was unsure of how long she could hold off without revenge.