by Lenore, Lani
Isabella shook those thoughts away. There was no need to be troubled by them. That other woman was gone, and since Christian had made no attempt to look for her, Isabella chose to let herself be satisfied. She smiled at herself there in the reflective glass. She was beautiful and clever.
The smile faded when the mirror showed her the figure standing behind her. Wrapped in a shawl, it stood still near the door. The woman there was dressed in white, her long dark hair hanging in damp curls. She swayed slightly as she stood staring at Isabella.
With a short gasp, the girl turned toward the doorway, finding that the woman with the dark hair that she thought she’d seen was only her sister Charlotte, looking at her with stinging eyes from within a pale face.
“What is it?” Isabella demanded as her heart finally began to slow. Charlotte stared deep into her eyes.
“Why did you have to do this?” she asked. “I know you’re responsible for those girls being sick. Mother would not approve.”
“Oh would she not?” Isabella asked in return, unable to stop the laugh that burst from her throat. “What part of it, exactly, would she find unladylike?”
“It was too reckless,” Charlotte said, her sorrow turning to anger. “How did you even manage to get close enough to poison them both?”
A snide smile crossed Isabella’s lips.
“Magic,” she said sarcastically, moving toward the door to escape this conversation. If Charlotte sat and thought a moment, she would realize that she was being foolish. Isabella was only doing what had to be done. She’d had no remorse when she’d cleverly poisoned the drinks of Morgana and Beatrice the night before at the party.
“I’m serious!” Charlotte yelled, refusing to let Isabella get away. “What if you get us caught this time?”
Isabella rolled her eyes in anger, turning back on her sister with the air of command passed on by their mother.
“Would you stop this?” she demanded. “Why must you be so weak? This had to be done! We are going to get what we deserve!”
“But mother’s plan was – ”
“Mother is dead!” Isabella screamed in a harsh tone.
Charlotte fell silent. She was still traumatized by the event, but she had to accept it! There was no sense in believing that the woman was coming back to save them, because she was gone! Isabella began to pace heatedly.
“I will have Christian,” she said. “No one will stand in the way of that – not even you! And mother has nothing to do with this anymore!”
Charlotte shook her head in helplessness.
“How can you say this?” she asked. “Mother did so much for us! She saw that we had money! She planned everything!”
“And she made you kill,” she said. “You didn’t want to kill either of them.”
The red-head was silent. It was true. She hadn’t wanted to kill either of Cindy’s parents, but mother had insisted that it was the only choice.
“But that was what mother wanted,” said Isabella. “And so you helped. When Mrs. Madison was diagnosed with the wasting disease, you helped make sure she died more quickly. When Charles Madison’s money was not enough for eternal support, you helped poison him to make him sick as well!”
“Stop it!” Charlotte screamed pressing her hands to her head. “I didn’t want to kill him!”
“Of course you didn’t want to kill him!” said Isabella. “Do you think I wanted to kill him? He was the only father I’d ever known as well. All I wanted was a little fatherly attention – a little love. Yet he wouldn’t give it to us, would he? All he wanted to do was give his love to Cindy, his blood daughter. He didn’t care that we existed!”
“Is that why you hate her?” Charlotte considered quietly.
“That is why we both hate her, dear sister,” she corrected. “And that is why our emotion for him was not strong enough to keep us from helping mother kill him.”
“He dies,” Charlotte quoted from her mother. “And onto the next…”
“I am telling you, silly girl, there will be no ‘next’. There doesn’t have to be a ‘next’. After Morgana is dead, I will convince Christian to marry me, and then, my sweet foolish sister, I will be able to take care of you.”
Isabella softened her voice and put her hands to Charlotte’s face, stroking her hair gently.
“You want to be taken care of, don’t you?” Isabella asked, looking into her green eyes. “Everything will be wonderful then. Mother would be proud.”
Charlotte stared into her sister’s face and felt her mind falling apart. The tiny threads that held her together were pulling taut and beginning to snap. Isabella didn’t understand.
“You are right,” Charlotte said calmly. “But how am I to be seduced into this by my own sister! Your spontaneous actions will get us killed or worse!”
The red-haired girl threw her sister’s hands from her face in anger. Isabella came back at her sister with a powerful slap across her cheek.
“You know nothing, you pathetic child!” she screamed. “Mother is dead and Christian will be mine! What happens to you does not have to be my concern!” Isabella shook her head. “I try to give you the world, yet this is how you repay me!”
Isabella stormed out then, leaving Charlotte to stand in the bedroom alone with her own guilt. Her mother had a plan for them. That plan would have them taken care of. Isabella’s jealousy and anger had made her step outside the original plans and aim to bring death to Morgana and Beatrice. Isabella had told Charlotte all about what Beatrice had asked Christian to do for her – she had been outside and overheard their conversation when she’d asked him. Isabella wasn’t going to hear of such an affair. That was why she had insisted they place the poison in the women’s drinks. It was the same poison that kept Cindy’s mother sick and killed Cindy’s father – and was the very same that was meant for Christian. Charlotte had refused and thought she had talked her sister out of it, but it appeared now that she had been mistaken.
Charlotte had been feeling distressed since Isabella’s bursts of rebellion. The plan was set in stone for safety. Isabella did not understand these things. Mother knew best – and she would not have been pleased.
4
The doctor was downstairs, trying to do whatever he could for Morgana and Beatrice, but he hadn’t been having much luck when Christian had left. Both women were only vomiting continuously – sometimes even with blood – and he didn’t know any good reason why he should stick around for that. Christian returned to his room and locked himself inside. When he was sure that no one was going to come after him, he reached into the drawer and withdrew the shoe of black glass and the letter.
He sat on the floor against the wall, turning the dainty shoe in his hands and trying to learn its secret. He’d read the letter over and over again, and there was only one passage describing the shoe itself. Cindy, the object you will be left with is a magical item, but it will not bring powerful results just by wearing it. But, like an ordinary item, when placed within the right obsession, even the unthinkable can happen. That was all very nice as far as Christian was concerned, but it didn’t seem to help him at all. Still, he couldn’t put the shoe down.
The glass was smooth. So smooth and cool like… Cindy’s skin. He closed his eyes and remembered first putting his hands on her. It was like she hadn’t felt warmth in ages. He thought about when he’d first seen her, covered in soot and blood. But at least she’d been tending a fire. At least she’d been warm then. Her wicked family had taken away the fire – even in her eyes. He’d seen that fire rekindled last night. He hadn’t seen it before when she’d come back to him at the party.
The party. He saw a white image, and in the midst of it, he saw the dark shoe. It stood alone, and then a pale foot was sliding down into it. As soon as the heel of the foot touched down inside the shoe, a cascade of blood began to ooze out from within and trail down the glass. What was this he was seeing? A vision? A creation of his own mind?
Christian opened his eyes and looked
down at the shoe in his hands. Perhaps it was Cindy’s place and not his, but he had an idea of what to do with this gift they had been given.
Chapter Fourteen
1
Within the sanctity of her attic room, Cindy sat on the bed, staring into the small cage on the table. Within, her loving pet, who had been her only friend for the past three years, lay unmoving. The rat’s legs were stiff, his nose dry. The girl couldn’t help but wonder if this was a result of the curse upon her, but she dismissed it quickly. This was only death, and she understood that within and without.
“You were good to me, Augustus,” she said. There were no tears; only acceptance. “But it is better this way. It is better for you not to see what I have become.”
She did not realize that her hands were shaking. Why? What was this feeling in the air?
2
Charlotte had wandered into the kitchen after her argument with Isabella and now she sat at the table, staring blankly at a large black crow that was perched on the window ledge, out of the rain. It was nothing significant to her; only a focal point to aid her misery and confusion.
She had no idea of what to do now about her situation. Stay with Isabella? Try to leave on her own? It might not be too hard to find some simple husband, but she had nothing to take with her. Perhaps though, if indeed Isabella got to marry Christian, Charlotte might be able to continue with their mother’s plan on her own. How was Isabella to watch her ever second? She could not guard Christian always.
The crow ruffled its feathers and then took flight from the window, breaking her concentration. The swiftness startled her, but she just gathered herself in the shawl and sat back more. The girl was not aware enough to know that she was falling apart. She felt confused and desperate. Surely there was some way to save herself.
Cindy.
The thought floated to the top of her mind like a bubble to the surface of water. Perhaps leaving was possible. Perhaps she could order Cindy along with her. Cindy was smart and resourceful. She would not let them perish.
“Charlotte?”
The quiet voice behind her urged her to shiver. She turned to look behind her and saw the man standing there. Only when she saw him did she realize that it was a male voice that had called to her. He stood in the entrance from the garden, just a shadow against the gray sky.
“Christian?” Charlotte asked in disbelief, standing to get a better look.
The young man allowed himself to come fully inside without being asked, reaching in his coat pocket as he came nearer. Charlotte took cautious steps toward him in curiosity. It was quite strange that he was here – especially since he had entered through this door which he should have known nothing about.
“What are you doing here?”
“Does this look familiar to you?” he asked, pulling his hand from his pocket to show her an object.
Charlotte took the black object carefully in her hand to examine it. She found herself staring back at her own reflection in a shoe of black glass.
“Remarkable,” she murmured. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite–”
“Yes,” said Christian, “but does it look familiar?”
She could say that she’d never seen Christian like this before. He seemed frantic to have her answer his question, looking back at her in anticipation.
“I…” she began, but thought twice. “Why?”
Christian put his hand to his head in disappointment and closed his eyes.
“I wasn’t completely myself at the party the other night,” he explained after taking a deep breath. “I’d had too much to drink and I hardly remember any of the faces I saw there. But, I met this one woman… My God, she was an angel!”
Charlotte looked on in interest. A desperate Christian? What was he getting at?
“I actually told her of my state and then said that I was afraid I wouldn’t remember her after that night – not her name or her face. She then gave me this shoe so that I would be able to find her, yet I have tried everywhere and have not been able to locate her!”
“And that was why you consented to marry Morgana?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes,” he lied. “I could not find the woman I truly desired.”
Christian picked up the shoe and moved it between his hands, staring down at the smooth surface. She watched his hands move, thinking of how they might caress her own body.
“You have no idea, Charlotte,” he said quietly, staring down at the shoe. “I would marry her in a heartbeat! Just let me find the lady who can wear this shoe! I don’t care who she is. Her conversation was enough to win me over.”
A smile touched her lips and she opened her mouth, quite ready to say that he was in luck, for she was in fact the woman who had worn that shoe. But before she was able to speak, he interrupted her.
“That was when I thought of Isabella.”
Charlotte stood in shock, forgetting her earlier tears. “Isabella?”
“Yes,” Christian confessed. “Now I can’t get her out of my head. I’m so certain that it must have been her that I was with at the party.”
Charlotte held her breath, but nothing else he could have said would have offended her more.
“I have to go,” he went on, “but would you do me the favor of seeing that your sister gets this shoe? So that she will know that I came looking for her?”
The gears in Charlotte’s mind began to turn at this. Christian was so overcome with love that he wasn’t thinking properly! He didn’t care about reason. Charlotte looked down at the shoe. The size appeared smaller than her own, but with a little effort she might be able to fit her foot inside the shoe. Then her mother would be proud of her. She would be Mrs. Christian Charming – and the plan would be corrected.
“I will help you,” Charlotte volunteered. “Leave the shoe with me and I’ll see that my sister has it. But if it is not hers, I will see that the woman who can wear it is found.”
Christian’s lips smiled slightly to reflect the thoughts of his mind, but the smile faded quickly as he again fell back into his lie.
“You would do that – even if I am to end up with another?”
Charlotte smiled sweetly back at him.
“Your happiness is my happiness,” she said.
The man smiled again, letting his eyes express his pleasure in her acceptance of the gift – and her failure to see through him.
“That’s damned decent of you,” he said graciously.
She nodded with a smile, and he smiled warmly back before exiting to the garden. With that smile, Charlotte’s devotion was set. She would indeed have him, and she would enjoy him greatly – while he still lived. Isabella would be the unfortunate one.
Looking around her, Charlotte scooped up the shoe carefully and wrapped it in her shawl. No one would see this shoe except her, and somehow she would make it fit. She turned, ready to head to her room and try to force the shoe onto her foot.
Facing back towards the kitchen door, she stopped abruptly at the sight of Isabella who had just come through the doorway, looking for her no doubt. The blonde stared on in surprise at the look of guilt on her sister’s face. What was she up to?
“What are you doing, darling sister?” she purred, looking on suspiciously.
Charlotte shook her head slowly, not taking her eyes from her sister’s.
“Nothing, dearest sibling,” she assured Isabella.
Isabella stared back at her in silence for a moment, examining all of Charlotte’s twisted features and wide eyes. The red-head shifted her weight and breathed in large nervous sighs.
“You’re lying,” Isabella finally deduced.
“I am not,” said Charlotte as innocently as possible.
“Yes you are so!” Isabella claimed. “Who were you talking to? And what is that in your shawl?”
A wave of panic overtaking her, Charlotte gripped a large skillet from the stove and raised it high over her head. Isabella eyed it, but with little fright.
“
You wouldn’t dare,” she warned.
The hard gaze of her sister shut her down. Charlotte dropped the skillet quickly and carelessly and rushed out of the kitchen. Her feet carried her across the hall and into the dining room where she quickly locked the door, holding the glass shoe tightly in one hand.
“I don’t have time to bother with you,” Isabella called faintly from beyond the door.
Charlotte stood silently and listened for several moments. Isabella had not come after her. In fact, her sister was walking away. She knew she was safe now – safe with the shoe – and a short giggle escaped her lips.
Looking around, Charlotte walked to the table and sat the shoe down carefully. Pulling out one of the tall-backed chairs, Charlotte made her own seat, straight in front of the shoe and stared at it silently as though it were some holy item. Her heart thumped rapidly in her chest. She took a deep breath as she stared down at it. It was time.
Lifting it carefully, she pulled off her own shoe and placed the glass slipper on the end of her foot. Her toes were a bit too wide, but she pushed as hard as she could and forced them within the shoe. Pushing more of her foot inside, she managed to press her toes against the very tip, yet her heel would not go in.
She strained her foot and tried to bend it to fit her heel inside, but despite her efforts, her foot would not go into the shoe. After much exertion and the color of her hand and foot turning from white to red, she stopped and set the shoe back upon the table. It was useless. The shoe would never fit. She would never make her mother proud.
Tears began to fall from her eyes in stress. What would happen to her? She and Isabella were both left here without mother and had no idea what to do to carry on life. They had both lost Christian and what was worse was that she had promised she would help Christian find the one who could wear the shoe. If she was to fall into his good graces at all, she would have to do this. The girl sobbed in defeat. All hope was gone.