She had not gone far when she heard the sound of hoofbeats behind her. She stepped off the track, blending into the darkness of the trees. Only brigands and robbers would be out at this time of night, she thought, unless it was a coach returning from the prince’s ball. And the occupants of a grand coach were hardly likely to give a ride to someone who looked like a beggar girl. The thought crossed her mind that it might be her step-mother’s coach. Could she think up a plausible reason to stop it and ask for a ride home? She tried to think of one, but lying did not come easily to her. If Step-mother arrived home first she would think that Cinderella had shirked her duties and gone to bed, and she would lock the big front door.
“I could say that I wanted to catch a glimpse of the ball gowns,” she thought out loud. “She’d scold me and call me stupid, but surely she’d give me a ride home, or I might be too tired to make her breakfast in the morning.”
The galloping hooves drew nearer. The shapes of horsemen loomed up. Not a coach in sight. She stood very still among the bushes as they passed. Suddenly one of them gave a shout. They wheeled around and were facing her.
“You, girl!” one of them shouted. “Have you seen a coach pass this way? A glass coach?”
“No, sir,” Cinderella said. “No coach has passed this way since I’ve been on the road.”
The lead horseman came closer. One of his fellows held a flaming torch above Cinderella’s head.
“And what are you doing out in the forest alone, at this time of night? I’d like to know.”
“I had to go to my relatives’ house to fetch this pumpkin,” she replied. “I had to pass the castle and I heard the music coming from the ball. I’m afraid I lingered too long, hoping to catch a glimpse of the beautiful dresses. Now I’ll be in trouble if I’m not home soon.”
“Where do you live?”
“At the tall white house on the far edge of the forest.”
“You’re a servant there?”
She hesitated and swallowed hard before saying, “Yes, I’m a servant.”
“So you say no coach has come this way?”
“On my honor, sir, no coach has passed me.”
One of the men laughed. “A servant’s honor. That’s funny.”
“What about a horseman? People on foot?”
“Nobody, sir. I have passed no one.”
“Perhaps she’s one of them,” the man with the torch said. “Disguised as a beggar.”
The lead horseman dismounted and came toward her. “What’s your name, girl?”
“Ella, sir. What is this about?” she asked. “Can’t I please get on my way? I don’t want to get into more trouble.”
“It is about a jewel robbery,” the man said, looming over her now and staring hard into her face. “A valuable ruby necklace was taken during the ball. The countess did not miss it until later and there was a frightful hue and cry. Then the guards mentioned that a young girl had run down the steps, not stopping when they told her to, jumped into a coach and galloped away. Nobody at the ball could identify her so it was assumed that she was the jewel thief. The prince was most upset.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you, sir,” she said. “As you can see, anyone dressed like me would not have been allowed near the palace.”
“Perhaps she changed her clothes,” one of them suggested.
“Pardon me, sir, but if I had been the girl who galloped away in the coach, why would I have discarded it, here in the darkest part of the forest, and changed into rags? If this girl was the robber she could have been far away by now.”
Some of the men nodded, having no argument with this. But the one with the torch held it closer. “Maybe she’s an accomplice. The robber slipped the rubies to this girl as she went past, knowing she might be pursued.”
“Search her!” one of the men urged.
“Oh no, please. I assure you…” Cinderella began, but the headman had already taken the pumpkin from her and was running his hands over her. He plunged his hand into one of her pockets and withdrew it, cursing. “What the devil?” he growled.
“Only my pet mice, sir. I take them with me because I don’t trust my employer’s cat.”
“Pet mice! What next?”
He put his hand more cautiously into the other pocket and drew it out triumphantly. “And what have we here?”
He held the glass slipper up toward the light. “A pretty little item for a servant girl!”
“I can explain, sir,” Cinderella said, her cheeks burning. Lying did not come easily to her. “I found it resting at the bottom of the palace steps. I looked around to see who had dropped it but there was nobody in sight. Since one shoe would be of no use to any of the ladies I thought I might keep it as a souvenir of the evening. I’m hardly ever allowed out, you know. And the shoe is so beautiful, is it not?”
The headman stared hard at her. “There’s something about you that makes me uneasy. You speak like an educated woman and yet you are dressed in rags. Are the rags perhaps a disguise and you are the clever jewel thief who has hidden the necklace in a convenient hollow tree to be retrieved later?”
“I grew up as the daughter of gentlefolk. My parents both died and I am not treated well by the people I now live with. But I have nowhere else to go.”
“So a priceless ruby necklace might come in handy,” the man with the torch said.
“Where do you think I could sell this necklace?” Cinderella asked him. “If I went into a pawn shop, dressed as I am, the constabulary would be summoned immediately. And I give you my word that I am no thief. If I had found this necklace I would have returned it to its rightful owner. That was how I was raised by my parents.”
“Perhaps she’s hidden the jewels in the pumpkin!” one of the men suggested. “Perhaps it’s a fake pumpkin.” The headman drew his sword and sliced the pumpkin in half with one stroke. The rich vegetable smell rose up. “Only an ordinary pumpkin after all,” he said in disappointment.
“And now I shall be scolded for damaging a good pumpkin that we were supposed to be using for a pie,” Cinderella said, enjoying a brief moment of his embarrassment.
“Tall white house on the edge of the forest, eh?” The headman frowned, staring at her. “We may be paying a call on you tomorrow—after we’ve searched these woods for hiding places. But there’s not much we can do in the dark. Go on, then. On your way.”
They wheeled their horses around and galloped back the way they had come, leaving a cloud of dust behind them. Cinderella’s heart was still beating fast. She retrieved the two halves of the pumpkin, put the slipper back in her pocket, and set off on her weary way.
She was relieved to arrive home before her step-mother and sisters and curled up in her narrow bed.
“I danced with a prince,” she whispered to herself. “It wasn’t a dream. It was real.” If only the magic had lasted a little longer. And now she still might find herself accused of a robbery. How could she explain to her step-mother if the men came knocking at their door?
Her step-mother and step-sisters did not get home until after two. Cinderella heard them stomping up the stairs, arguing as usual.
“I am exhausted. I danced so much my feet are killing me.”
“I don’t know why. You hardly danced at all. You were sitting there nursing a glass of wine every time I saw you.”
“Well, you only danced with that count who must have been close to a hundred years old. Certainly not with the prince.”
“Well, neither did you.”
Their conversation drifted out of hearing range. Cinderella fell asleep, awoke with the sun and went down to the kitchen, finding comfort in her usual tasks. Because the sisters had come home so late she let them sleep through most of the morning and only took up their morning tea when a bell rang furiously.
“And how was the ball?” she asked politely as she put down the tray between them.
“Delightful. So glamorous,” Esmerelda said with a smirk.
“And the prince?”
“Not really handsome at all, was he, sissy?” Esmerelda said. “Rather pale and boring, if you want to know. And he only danced with an equally unattractive girl in an ostentatious blue dress.”
“So you didn’t have a good time?”
Cinderella glanced across at Ermintrude, her other step-sister.
“Oh yes, I had a good time,” she said. “Now take my shoes and polish them. I stepped in a puddle last night.”
“And take our wigs to be brushed and styled,” Esmerelda snapped.
As Cinderella left the room something was troubling her, apart from the sisters’ usual rudeness. Ermintrude’s face. Something about the way she had looked when her sister mentioned wigs. Cinderella had seen that expression before. When Ermintrude had taken her sister’s hair ribbon. When she had sneaked the last cake from the cake stand and tried to blame it on her sister. Guilt mixed with triumph. And a strange idea began to form in Cinderella’s head. Esmerelda had said that her sister had sat nursing a glass of wine all evening. Cinderella could picture it now. Her sister sitting alone at a side table while the dancers twirled around her, with a glass of red wine in her hand. But she didn’t drink red wine. It made her skin go blotchy and red. Why would she have risked that at a ball? And then she was still carrying that glass, undrunk, when she went to the powder room. Cinderella had not seen her return—she had been too busy dancing with the prince. But at a later glimpse there was something not quite right with her sister’s wig. It sat a little too high on her forehead. It made her look rather comical, Cinderella had noted.
Cinderella polished the shoes and brushed the wigs. Sure enough there was a trace of red stain inside Ermintrude’s. She waited until Ermintrude was alone, sitting at her dressing table. “Here are your shoes, sister.”
“Put them in my closet.” The step-sister waved her away.
“And I have your clean undergarments. Shall I put them in your drawer?”
“No. Leave them. Just go,” Ermintrude snapped, reaching out a hand to prevent the drawer from being opened.
Still, Cinderella lingered.
“Just go. What are you waiting for?” Ermintrude said.
“I thought it only fair to warn you that a valuable necklace was stolen at the ball last night. We may have a visit today from palace guards who will search the house,” she said.
“Why should that concern me?”
“Because they will certainly come into this room,” Cinderella said. “Open all the drawers, rummage through your clothing.”
“Why would they do that, pray? I am a gentlewoman. They would not dare.” The step-sister’s face had turned very red.
“Ah, but they would dare. And what would they find, dear sister?” Cinderella paused. “I know you stole the necklace.”
“How dare you! What can you know about anything?”
“I know how you did it,” Cinderella said. “I suspect the necklace slipped off a lady’s neck while she was dancing. You saw it on the floor, picked it up and dropped it into a convenient glass of red wine, where rubies would be invisible. You held onto that red wine all evening until you realized you could not take the glass with you. So you went to the powder room and managed to tuck the necklace under your wig. It didn’t quite sit properly after that.”
Ermintrude was staring at her. “How could you possibly know any of this? It’s all lies. You are insane.”
“I just hope the men don’t search the house too thoroughly, because if they find the necklace, it will be a lifetime in prison at the very best. Or even the noose.”
The color had now drained from Ermintrude’s face. “Why should they want to search this house? We are respectable people.”
“I heard they will be searching everybody who was at the ball.”
“And how could you possibly know any of this? A servant girl, sitting all alone by the fire?”
“Suffice it to say that I do know. Maybe I followed you to the ball last night. Maybe I watched you… And I will tell the truth if the men come. And they will search until they find the rubies. Even in among your undergarments.”
Ermintrude’s hand went to the drawer before she realized she was giving herself away.
“I’ll bury them in the garden,” she said, defiantly. “They will never find them.”
“Oh, but I understand they will bring dogs with them. Dogs specially trained to sniff out jewels.”
“Then what should I do?” The defiance had gone from her voice.
“I have a suggestion that will save you and the honor of this house,” Cinderella said. “You will take the jewels and go straight to the palace. Tell them you found them lying in a puddle last night. You looked around but there was nobody to hand them to and your mother was anxious to go home, nervous about being out alone in the dark. So you had to wait until this morning to return them. You will receive their undying thanks, and there may even be a reward.”
“Do you think so?” she asked in a small voice.
“Either way you will be seen in a favorable light by the palace. That is important, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is.” She opened the drawer, tipped the rubies from a stocking and stood staring at them. They were indeed very beautiful. “I saw them on the floor. I grabbed them on impulse. I’ll never own anything so lovely.”
“I know how you feel. I felt the same way when you all left for the ball.”
For a second the step-sister looked at her as if she was seeing a real person for the first time. “Why are you doing this for me?” she asked. “You could have kept quiet and let the guards find the rubies and arrest me.”
“Because, dear sister, unlike you I was brought up to be a good person. Nothing can change that.” She walked toward the door. “But I will warn you of one thing. I have my ways of knowing what you do. I saw you at the ball last night. And I may not always feel so generous toward you. So I’d like to be treated with a little more respect in future.”
“All right.”
Cinderella smiled to herself. She had only just gone down the stairs when there came a furious knocking at the front door. She went to open it, her heart beating fast. Ermintrude was now trapped in the house. But outside stood a man in magnificent clothing. “I have been sent at the order of the prince,” he said. “To find the young lady who lost this glass slipper last night.”
CINDERELLA 2
He came out of the bar just as the clock on a nearby church was striking midnight. A cold wind was swirling up from the desert to the south, making him button his jacket. He needed to get going if he wanted to make Tucson by morning. He was about to get into his car when he noticed the girl. She was sitting in the bus shelter hugging a guitar almost as big as she was.
Their eyes met. “Nice car,” she said.
“Yes, isn’t it? Latest model,” he said with pride in his voice.
She continued to sit there, hugging her guitar to her body.
“You won’t find a bus at this time of night,” he said to her.
“I know that.”
“Shouldn’t you be at home, a girl of your age?”
“That’s what I’m trying to do—get home,” she said, defiantly.
“And where is that?”
“California.”
He gave an incredulous laugh. “Then you are a long way from home.”
“No kidding.”
“What on earth are you doing out here in this God-forsaken place? Going to college?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “I wish.” She paused. “I’m trying to get home from Nashville.”
“Tennessee?”
“No, Nashville on the Moon. Of course Tennessee.”
“You’re a brittle little thing,” he said.
“Yes, well, I haven’t exactly had it as easy as you.”
“What took you to Nashville? Dreams of becoming a country music star?”
“Why else does anyone go to Nashville?” she asked.
“And it didn’t work out?”
; “I learned all I needed to know about the music industry and what goes on in Nashville.”
“And it wasn’t for you?”
“There was nothing there for me.” She hesitated. “Or at least I found out there was nothing there for me.”
“So you’re heading home. Have you hitchhiked this far?”
“No, I took the bus this far. But I’m running out of cash.”
“I could give you a ride as far as Phoenix, if you like.”
“That would be great.”
“Come on then.” He clicked open the car door. “Put your things on the back seat and let’s get going.”
She stood up, carefully laying her guitar on the back seat but keeping her small backpack with her in the front. The engine purred to life and the big car took off, leaving the lights of the city behind. There was an occasional truck on the road but otherwise they were driving through total darkness.
“So are you any good as a singer?”
“Not bad,” she said.
“You want to sing something for me?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Suit yourself, but you know I happen to be a big music producer.”
“Really?”
“Really. I used to be in Nashville, years ago, but now I’m based in LA. I do more film music these days. Where the money is.”
He had expected her to sing for him then, but she remained silent. After a while he asked, “What’s your name?”
“Jolene Kent.”
“Good name for a country singer.” He chuckled, “Was it really your name, or did you make it up?”
“It’s a real name.”
“Jolene. I used to know a girl called Jolene, years ago. She was good. Great voice. Really cute too. Looked a bit like you.”
“Really? What happened to her?”
“I don’t know. It didn’t quite work out for her. She got messed up. Drugs. It happens a lot in Nashville.”
“What’s your name?” She countered.
Nothing Good Happens After Midnight: A Suspense Magazine Anthology Page 21