Charm (2 page)

She watched as Ivy took her new husband’s arm and walked towards the house. Her pale face was rouged and her lips were painted pink and even her hair, almost as fine as Rose’s, had managed to find some lift and body. Money was making her prettier, that was certain, but no amount of luxury could turn her into a beauty. Cinderella’s stomach knotted in envy. It was all wasted on Ivy.

The Viscount was a nervous young man of perhaps thirty, whose right cheek had an unfortunate tic and whose shoulders hunched over slightly as if he didn’t want to be noticed. He’d met Ivy when she’d run out in front of his carriage, chasing a note of money that was being blown across the road. By the time he’d picked her up, retrieved the money and driven her home, the two had somehow found something they liked about each other. Here they were, two months later, already married.

Cinderella watched as he sat quietly, smiling as his wife talked, not so dissimilar to her own father, who spent much of his time doing the same. The Viscount must love Ivy, though, she thought, otherwise how could he sit here and pretend that this small roast beef dinner was in any way satisfactory compared to the delicious feasts they must have at home every day. There wasn’t even a girl to serve them – other than Cinderella, of course – and despite the fire the room still carried a chill. She cut into her own tiny slice of beef, eating it slowly, just as her step-mother and father were doing, to try and prevent the Viscount from realising how much smaller their portions were than his or Ivy’s. Thus far, it was working. He seemed perfectly content, but it was hard to know as Ivy was dominating the conversation.

‘There are so many winter balls coming up, mama,’ she said, her grey eyes alive with excitement and happiness. ‘You’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘Oh but I have, darling,’ her mother countered. ‘I remember my own coming out ball. I went to many balls as a young woman.’ She smiled at the Viscount. ‘I was quite the beauty then, you know.’

‘Indeed you were, my dear,’ Cinderella’s father finally joined it. ‘When I met you, you were quite breath-taking.’

His compliment earned him a sharp glance from his wife and Cinderella knew why. She didn’t want the Viscount reminded of her fall from grace, not when she was so close to getting back into court society after all these years. The Viscount smiled anyway, and Cinderella noticed that the tic in his face had calmed in their company. She couldn’t understand why, when their small house must be so far removed from the grandeur he was used to.

‘Anyway, there is going to be one at the castle tomorrow night,’ Ivy glanced at her husband and smiled, ‘and George and I thought that perhaps you and Rose would like to come with us.’

The table erupted. Cinderella’s step-mother was on her feet with her hand clamped over her mouth, but the shriek she was emitting behind it was loud enough to threaten their wine glasses. Ivy was smiling and laughing, and even the Viscount blushed slightly. Rose remained in her seat with her mouth half-open, and then within seconds they were all talking over each other, a babble of excited chatter and plans.

Cinderella cleared away the plates. No one was going to eat any more after that announcement, and Cinderella was never going to go to a ball.

O
nce Ivy and the Viscount had left, Cinderella retreated to the kitchen and busied herself with the washing up. For once she didn’t care that much about being on her own downstairs. Her step-mother’s excitement was too much for her to cope with. Tailors had been sent for and the last of the family coffers were being emptied in the search for ball dresses for Rose and her mother. There wouldn’t be any coal for the foreseeable future, even if her father did sell a few more articles and papers or take in some book-keeping while writing his interminable novel. Someone would have to go into the forest for wood, and that someone would no doubt be her. She shivered slightly at the thought. The forest was not the safest place to go wandering alone.

The kitchen, being in the basement, was at least warmer than the rest of the house. And it was quiet. If she heard her step-mother squeal once more about the joys of court life she was sure she’d scream herself. All her own cries of ‘but what about me?’ had been ignored or brushed aside, as if the thought of her going to a court ball was such a ridiculous suggestion it wasn’t even worth listening to. She finished the last of the dishes, placing the fine china carefully back in the cupboard where it would gather dust until Ivy and her husband came again, and then began to sweep the floor. She didn’t hurry. Today she was glad of her chores.

There was a light tapping at the back door – three small knocks and then a pause before one more – and Cinderella’s mood lifted. She pulled back the bolts and opened up, still smiling even though the blast of cold that rushed in threatened the tiny amount of warmth the room was managing to contain.

‘Buttons!’

‘Evening, princess.’ He nodded at a brown sack by his feet. ‘Shall I put it straight in the scuttle on my way back?’

‘You’ve brought coal?’

‘No one will miss it. They’ve got more than they need.’ He grinned at her, dark eyes twinkling in the night. ‘And we wouldn’t want your pretty nose getting frostbite, would we? Speaking of frostbite, are you going to let me in?’

She ushered him inside and closed the door as he pulled another chair close to the stove and sat down. ‘This winter’s a bastard.’ He shivered.

‘You didn’t need to bring me anything,’ Cinderella rummaged in the cupboards, put some bread and cheese on a plate and poured him a glass of her father’s table wine. ‘You’re too kind to me.’

‘It’s not my coal, princess. Just like the half a ham I just left at Granny Parker’s wasn’t my ham, so don’t worry.’ He winked at her. ‘But I like bringing you things best.’

Cinderella blushed and sat down, happy to give him a moment or two of silence while he ate. Sometimes it felt like Buttons was her only real friend in the world, and she didn’t even know his real name. She called him Buttons because he’d brought her two fine pearl buttons for her torn dress when she’d first met him and then the nickname stuck. He probably had grateful nicknames in houses all over the city. The winter made times hard, but Buttons made them better.

He couldn’t be more than twenty or so, she thought. Thin and wiry with a mop of black hair and sharp eyes that were always up to mischief. But what a heart he had. He had a crush on her, she knew, but she never encouraged it, no matter how extraordinary he was. She wanted more from her life. She wanted what Ivy had, but with a tall, handsome man. She longed for it so much she ached from it.

‘I hope you’re careful,’ she said. ‘If you get caught, well . . .’ She didn’t need to finish the sentence. They both knew what the consequences would be.

Buttons was a thief. He was also an errand boy at the castle and spent much of his time delivering messages to the great houses or doing chores in the castle itself. The latter fed into the former and Buttons was an expert at taking small but valuable items that no one would notice were gone and they would either be sold and the money given away, or he’d pass them on directly.

‘I steal from the rich and give to the poor,’ he’d told her once. ‘It’s the only way to be a happy thief. And so many people have so little while so few have so much. It’s not fair.’

Buttons had made their winter easier, even if her family didn’t notice. Why would they? It was Cinderella who did the day to day housekeeping and not even her step-mother had noticed they didn’t have enough money for the food that was appearing on their table. But then her step-mother had never understood money – not until they’d run out of it, at any rate. She had been born in wealth and married in wealth and it was only when she’d run away with Cinderella’s father she’d had to learn the cost of things. It appeared to have been a very long learning curve.

‘Ah, there you are!’ Buttons smiled as a small brown nose emerged from the warm gap between the oven and the tiles. He broke off a piece of cheese and held it out.

‘Urgh, a mouse,’ Cinderella pulled her feet up onto the chair. ‘That must be the one all the fuss was about this morning.’

‘He’s a cheeky little fella this one,’ Buttons said, as the mouse confidently ran towards him and sat up on his hind legs to take the offered chunk of cheddar. ‘He’s everywhere I go. Well, he was until last week. He must have followed me here and decided to stay.’ The mouse didn’t scurry back to his hiding place as Cinderella expected, but stayed where he was, settling down on his haunches and nibbling contentedly. ‘I don’t blame him,’ Buttons said. ‘He a mouse with good taste.’

‘It’s probably not even the same mouse. Mice don’t follow people around.’ She smiled. Sometimes with Buttons it was very hard to tell if he was joking or not.

‘Oh, it’s him. Look, he’s got a little scar on his back. See?’ He winked at her. ‘Same mouse.’

‘Well, I can’t guarantee his safety if my step-mother finds him.’ Cinderella slowly lowered her feet back to the ground. If it was Buttons’ mouse then she was somehow less afraid of it. And there was something quite endearing about the way it was sitting between them, happily munching on the cheese.

‘I think he’s a hardy little fellow,’ Buttons said. ‘I know a survivor when I see one.’

‘I hear there’s a ball at the castle tomorrow night,’ Cinderella suddenly blurted out. ‘My step-sisters are both going. It’s not fair.’

‘Yes, yes there is. There are a few balls lined up I think. I’ve spent a lot of the day fetching polish and ordering the finest wines and foods to be delivered.’

‘And the ballroom?’ Cinderella asked. ‘Are the chandeliers glittering? Will there be musicians?’

‘You know all this,’ he smiled, but his eyes were thoughtful. ‘You ask me to tell you every time. But yes, it will be quite fantastic. There’s a rumour that the Prince might be reaching the time when he wants to find a wife. If he does, he’ll set a trend for all the young noblemen to marry. Where the prince leads, they follow.’

‘Oh, how wonderful,’ Cinderella said, taking a sip of Buttons’ wine and then leaning back in her chair. ‘Imagine how that must be, to have the prince fall in love with you.’ Her voice had dropped to a slightly deeper tone, and Buttons raised an eyebrow. She smiled at him. This wasn’t a new game, nor was it one they played often, but she needed an escape and Buttons was good at providing it.

‘Can we?’ she asked. She didn’t need to elaborate. He smiled at her slightly and she smiled back. She didn’t analyse their actions, and nor did she feel any guilt over it, even though no doubt her step-mother and father would be furious if they were caught. They weren’t doing any real harm. It was just a game, and Cinderella was not the sort of girl to feel any shame over her body.

‘Whatever you want, princess,’ he said. ‘What are friends for?’

Cinderella smiled and closed her eyes. They weren’t hurting anyone. And they were friends, after all. As Buttons began to whisper to her, his breath warm in her ear, her drab surroundings were forgotten and she was transported to the castle, full of light and heat and beauty as couples danced around her and waiters moved elegantly between them with glasses of the finest champagne. She twirled from handsome man to handsome man in a dress of emerald green with jewels to match at her slim neck. Even the footmen at the doors couldn’t take their eyes from her. In her fantasy – and it was one she had often – by the end of the evening she would have three men in love with her, all three ready to duel for her, and then the prince himself would sweep her away and marry her with more haste and urgency than even the Viscount for Ivy, and both her step-sisters would watch enviously as she lived happily ever after in the castle.

Buttons spoke softly of dancing and romance and, as she imagined the prince’s body pressed close to hers, his hand slid up under her dress and his mouth softly kissed her neck. Her breathing came faster as finally, after teasing the soft skin of her thighs, his fingers hit their mark, teasing her to wetness and then sliding inside. She pushed against him and panted as he told her of beauty and music until eventually, her mind a whirl of ballrooms and the prince and music and love, she shuddered against his touch.

S
he sighed and lingered in her fantasy for a moment longer before opening her eyes and adjusting her dress and letting her miserable reality settle around her. ‘It’s so much better when you do it than me,’ she said, and smiled, leaning forward and kissing Buttons’ cheek.

‘Oh you’re a strange one, Cinderella,’ Buttons’ face had flushed slightly. ‘There aren’t many girls like you.’

‘There are lots of girls worse than me,’ she answered. ‘It’s only touching. What’s wrong with that? It feels good. It’s natural.’

‘I’m not arguing with you,’ he said. ‘You’re just full of contrasts.’ He poured himself more wine. ‘And rather me than another. I’m your friend. I’ll never hurt you.’

‘You’re as strange as I am,’ she said. Her comment didn’t need an explanation, they both knew what she meant. She’d tried once, the first time they’d found themselves playing this game, to touch the boy. Not from any passion for him, but because she was curious and wanted him to feel as nice as she had, but he’d stopped her. He’d said that wasn’t for him.