Charm (10 page)

They ate dinner without the queen, who was apparently indisposed with a chill, the delicate clinking of their silver knives and forks against the bone china echoing around the vast dining room. Cinderella sat opposite the prince, but it was Rose and Esme who sat to either side of the king himself, and Ivy and her Viscount made up the rest of the table, the group talking and leaving the young lovers with a little privacy to talk. Although the prince smiled at her often, their conversation was somewhat stilted, as if the passion they had felt two weeks previously had left them awkward in each other’s company. Cinderella found herself reaching for her wine glass frequently to try and calm her nerves.

Rose, however, was having no trouble talking to the king.

‘I think it’s as many as fifteen children now,’ she said. ‘It’s terrible. And they’re all tradesmen’s children because they can’t afford to buy coal or logs from the merchants to warm their homes. So they have to go into the forest for firewood while their parents are working.’

‘And no bodies are found? They’re not simply being attacked by hungry wolves?’

‘Who knows, your majesty. But I’m sure the people would feel much safer knowing you had soldiers in the woods protecting them.’

‘Hmmm.’ The king nodded.

‘In fact,’ Rose said, ‘if your majesty’s soldiers were to gather the firewood and give it to the children, it would be a sign of the great affection you obviously have for the ordinary people.’ She sipped her wine. ‘Such good feeling would probably make taxes easier to collect too.’ The last sentence was spoken so delicately that it was almost an afterthought, but the king’s heavily-laden fork paused on its journey.

‘I do love the people,’ he said. ‘This is true. And there are always spare soldiers.’ He looked up at the prince. ‘Did you know about these missing children?’

‘I had heard something.’ The prince shrugged, but it clearly wasn’t a subject that interested him much. Cinderella thought of the baker’s boy with his cheeky grin and she was proud of Rose for bringing it up.

‘Why had I not heard about it?’ The king frowned slightly. ‘There used to be a newspaper. What happened to that?’

‘It was closed down, your majesty,’ Esme said. ‘I believe some of your advisors worried that copies would be smuggled out of the city to your enemies who would gain a greater understanding of your kingdom.’

‘Advisors,’ the king snorted. ‘They do get over-enthusiastic.’

‘My dear Henry was the editor,’ Esme touched her husband’s hand. ‘I’m sure he could help re-start it should you so wish. There’s really nothing like reading all the news from the streets’ perspective before hearing it, from perhaps somewhat protective advisors.’

The king nodded. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’ He looked at Esme and smiled. ‘I remember your first wedding you know. He was very old, the Earl, wasn’t he?’

Cinderella’s step-mother nodded. ‘But he was a good man.’

‘A randy old bugger from what I hear.’ The king patted her hand. ‘You were too young. Your actions are forgiven.’

Esme smiled and so did Cinderella’s father, and the love between the two of them shone, infecting the old king’s own smile with the warmth of the man, rather than the affection of a monarch. Cinderella looked to the prince and smiled at him hoping to see some of that same glow coming back to her, but she and the prince didn’t have the years of companionship behind them – in fact, she realised, they didn’t know each other at all. Her feet felt cold in her beautiful, charmless shoes.

W
hen dinner was finally over, the king dismissed them all back to their apartments insisting that the family must be tired after their move and that Cinderella must get her beauty sleep before the preparations for the wedding began in earnest the next day. He signalled for the prince to retire with him for a nightcap.

Cinderella did not go back to her apartments. She lingered behind her family, who were intent on saying farewells to Ivy and then, as they followed her step-sister down to the courtyard where their carriage waited, Cinderella loitered in the corridor for a few minutes, then took her shoes off and crept barefoot and silent back to the drawing room. The door was open a tiny crack and she pressed her face against it. A huge fire, built with as much coal as they would be able to afford in a month, blazed in a vast grate. She heard the tinkle of liquid being poured into a glass and the heavy creak of leather as the king sat down. She could see neither her beau nor his father, but their voices drifted to her as they spoke.

‘I had hoped that your recent adventures would make you grow up.’ It was the king. ‘But apparently not. What on earth possessed you to make a grand gesture like that? A few dances and your cock is so hard you want to marry the girl?’

‘If it offends you so much father, we can call the wedding off.’ The prince’s voice was cold and Cinderella’s heart dropped to her stomach. Surely he would fight for her? He loved her, didn’t he? Surely he hadn’t gone through all this searching to send her packing now? She’d be humiliated. Tears stung her eyes and she swallowed hard and willed them to pass.

‘After this nonsense with that shoe, have the whole kingdom think you’re a fool who can’t keep his word?’ The king snorted. ‘No. We’ll play this farce out. She’s a pretty enough little thing and she’ll give you heirs. I’m sure of it.’ He sighed again. ‘But the other one would have been a much better choice. At least she’s noble. And she has a brain. She reminds me of your mother.’

‘Cinderella is prettier,’ the prince said. It sounded weak. From her place at the door Cinderella couldn’t decide if he was defending her or himself with the statement.

‘Listening at doors so early in your relationship? Where’s the trust?’

A hand suddenly reached in front of her and closed the door and Cinderella jumped backwards, her heart racing. The driver, the fairy godmother’s servant, leaned against the wall. He smiled but she was sure he was laughing at her. ‘I didn’t take you for the sort.’

‘I just wanted to . . . I just . . .’ She couldn’t finish the sentence. ‘It’s none of your business anyway. And how did you get in the castle?’

‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’ Even in the gloomy corridor she could see his eyes twinkling. He folded his arms across his chest. ‘So how’s true love working out?’

She turned her back on him and started to walk away. She didn’t have time for him now. What did he know about anything anyway? She thought he’d stayed by the door until she rounded the corner and then glanced back. She jumped again to find him right behind her.

‘You’re not the only one who can move silently, you know.’

Close up she could see the roughness of his tanned skin, and was struck once again by how different it was from the prince’s smooth pale face. Even though she was sure he wasn’t very much older than her, creases had formed on his cheeks and she wondered if they’d been made where he smiled. His dark hair flopped slightly over one eye, and she knew that, unlike his skin, it would be silky soft to the touch. He was standing so close to her she could smell him; warm and almost musky. He reminded her of the forest and all the wild things that lived there.

‘What do you want?’ Her voice was cold and she stood tall. He was not going to intimidate her. The king’s words still rang in her head.
She’s a pretty little thing
. They stung her and she wasn’t entirely sure why.

‘Just reminding you of your promise. To search the castle.’

‘I hadn’t forgotten.’ Cinderella lifted her chin. He irritated her. It was the way he spoke. The way he was so confident. He irritated her
a lot
. ‘I don’t need a lackey to remind me.’

‘Good.’ This time he was the one to turn and walk away. ‘I’ll meet you at the back kitchen door tomorrow night at three. Don’t be late.’ He didn’t even look back.

Cinderella crept to her room, crawled into her bed and stared at the ceiling. It was a warmer and more comfortable bed than she’d slept in for years, but she couldn’t sleep. When she finally did her dreams were plagued with nightmares of running endlessly through the castle trying to find a way out.

O
ver the next few days things seemed to get better. The prince began to court her properly and amidst the dress fittings and wedding preparations he lunched with her and walked her through the frozen maze gardens that were so beautiful, even in the grip of winter, that they almost took her breath away. They became more familiar with each other and while she told him stories of her childhood, the prince regaled her with tales of his adventures abroad. She would watch him and sometimes have to pinch herself that her arm was linked with his and that they were going to be married.

He kissed her often and his lips were soft on hers, but she ached to feel the passion they’d shared on the night of the Bride Ball. Much of her time though was spent learning everything that was expected from a royal bride – how to walk, how to sit, how to speak to dignitaries, how to treat servants and how to dance – while all the time having her lack of noble grace bemoaned. Oftentimes, she just wanted to cry from the effort of it, and then Rose would find her and help her and that would make her feel worse as she remembered her own selfish actions from what seemed like a lifetime ago. Her father was busy setting up the new national newspaper and her step-mother was helping him and when the two young women did see them they were full of such excited happy talk that it made the small empty space inside Cinderella grow.

She was also tired from her nightly explorations. The castle might not have been as large in reality as it always had been in her imagination but she’d begun to realise it would take her several weeks to search every room. Often she couldn’t escape from dinner until after eleven, and then had to go through the pretence of going to bed before sneaking out again. She was also surprised at how many people seemed to live here. Although she was light on her feet she often had to duck behind curtains or hide beneath tables as servants or soldiers toured the building checking it was safe. What surprised her more, however, was the discovery that she found her secret task quite exciting – far more than her new life as a princess – especially when she came close to getting caught. On those nights she would arrive at the kitchen door with her face flushed and so high on the thrill that the huntsman would laugh out loud; a rough, earthy sound, and she would laugh with him even though she had nothing to report.

One night her search brought her to the prince’s apartments. That afternoon they had played chess together and she had won and he’d looked at her in such surprise, as if seeing beyond the
pretty little thing
she was to the woman beneath. The woman she was growing into. Her heart had surged with the possibility that he might love her after all.

As she stood outside his bedroom, the floor cold beneath her bare feet, she couldn’t help but push the door open a little to look inside. She didn’t want to wake him, just to see him sleeping and imagine herself next to him, their naked bodies entwined in life as they often were in her fantasies.

The bedroom was empty and the covers still perfectly made. She stared for a long moment, the cold from the floor suddenly nothing next to the chill in her heart. Where was he? It was nearly three in the morning and he’d said at dinner that he was tired. Slowly, she closed the door. She tried to turn her mind from the only logical reason for his absence but she couldn’t quite manage it. He was somewhere in the castle with another woman. She felt sick. Suddenly, she wanted her old bedroom with his picture on her wall where she could look at him and imagine him perfect. She’d been stupid. A stupid little girl. She turned and ran, her heart a little more broken.

‘
I
still haven’t found anything,’ she snapped at the fairy godmother’s man, waiting as he was for her by the kitchen door. ‘But it would help if I knew what I was looking for.’

‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘You’ll know when you find it.’

‘Trust you? I don’t even know you.’ She knew the words were harsh but she couldn’t help it. She felt sick. Her prince was in another woman’s bed. He hadn’t even tried to get into hers – even after everything at the Bride Ball. She thought of the fairy godmother. What had she said? She’d make sure Cinderella got her prince, but she couldn’t guarantee true love? How arrogant she’d been to think that love wouldn’t be a problem. She thought of the third dark nut tucked into the folds of her dress. What would happen if she cracked it? Would life go back to as it was before? Her stomach tightened. Even if she really wanted to – and she wasn’t sure she was ready yet – she couldn’t escape before fulfilling the fairy godmother’s commands. She’d made a promise to search the castle. She had to see that through.

‘You know me well enough. As I know you.’

‘That’s not true. I don’t know anything about you.’

‘I’m a huntsman,’ he said. ‘One who is very tired of royal games. Will that do?’ She felt his dark eyes studying her. ‘Why did you fall in love with the prince?’ he asked eventually.