Charm (7 page)

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry—’

‘Sorry isn’t good enough! You’re ruined everything! Everything!’

Cinderella pulled the covers over her head and pushed her fists into her ears. She wouldn’t let them spoil her happiness. She wouldn’t. And if she did win the prince’s hand the next night then she made a quiet promise to herself that she’d find an Earl for Rose to marry. A handsome one.

T
he next day passed interminably, and once her chores were done she hid in her room avoiding her step-mother. She veered from berating Rose to encouraging her to make the best of the second night to come while Cinderella wished the hours away. Finally, night came round again and she watched from the window as Rose went off in Ivy’s carriage. This time, however, she felt no jealousy, just her own overwhelming excitement. Once her father had gone up to his study to work into the early hours, she ran down to the kitchen and cracked the second nut open.

This time, her dress shone like spun gold, reflecting every shade of red from her magnificent hair. Her feet tingled with the warmth from the slippers and her face glowed.

‘Very nice,’ the driver said, as he opened the door, ‘if you like that kind of thing.’

‘Are you being rude to me on purpose?’ Cinderella asked, frowning at him. ‘If you think I’m so ugly just keep your opinions to yourself.’

He smiled again, laughing at her she was sure. ‘What?’ she snapped, crossly.

‘It wasn’t the raw product I was commenting on, it was all the trimmings. You look like a proper little court lady, that’s for sure.’

‘What’s so wrong with that? That’s what I
want
to be.’

‘Nothing. It suits some. I just prefer a real woman, that’s all. The type who runs free through the forest. Now, let’s get you to your perfect prince, shall we?’

She didn’t say another word, but pressed her lips tightly together. She could quite happily not speak to the insufferable brute for the rest of her life.

R
ose was trying to talk to the prince as Cinderella swept into the ballroom, and she was glad to see that he was showing no interest in her whatsoever. If anything, he looked distracted and irritated, his glance going this way and that, scanning the room. Her heart lifted at the sight of him and she took a glass of champagne and waited until he’d fully spurned her step-sister, sending her scurrying to the sides of the ballroom in shame, before she approached him.

‘Hello,’ she said, simply, as his mouth dropped open.

‘You! You’re here! You look . . .’ He stared at her and smiled. ‘Perfect.’

‘I’m sorry I left,’ she said, as he took her in his arms and swept her onto the dance floor. Around them, couples pulled back slightly and the partnerless young women drifted into the corners to console each other. It was clear the prince had eyes for no other. He had come back to life with her arrival, his listlessness suddenly shed like a second skin.

‘I thought you had left me,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I’ve thought of nothing but you.’

‘I’ve been the same,’ she said and smiled. Could he have become more handsome overnight? It seemed that way. Once again, just like the previous night, they danced and talked and revelled in each other’s presence until he gave a signal and the music paused, and then the prince took her hand and led Cinderella out towards the balcony.

‘Let’s go somewhere more private,’ he whispered into her ear. His voice was like electricity running through her, and she simply nodded. She was breathless. Her skin was flushed. Two servants pulled the glass doors open for them and they stepped out into the night. The doors closed, sealing them off from the rest of the party. No one would join them out here, that was clear, and now that the dance had stopped Cinderella was glad to be away from the rest of the guests. Rose and her step-mother wouldn’t be expecting to see her here, and certainly not dressed so glamorously, but that still wouldn’t stop them recognising her if they looked for too long – and everyone’s eyes had been on her by the time the music finished. Everyone thought the prince had made his choice.

At some point while they’d danced soft snow flakes had started to fall, but the balcony was covered in a silk canopy and fires burned in ornate metal stands and the air was warm. Cinderella was sure that even if it was pouring with icy rain she wouldn’t notice. Ahead of them the city was spread out, an ocean of darkness with only occasional ships of light in the gloom. It was late, and while the castle was still filled with music and dancing, the ordinary people had long days ahead. As she stood at the low wall that ran around the balcony, looking out over it all, she felt a lifetime away from the grime and cold of the city’s winter.

She looked up at the handsome man beside her and smiled. The prince, saying nothing, pulled her close, one arm wrapping tight around her. He lifted his other hand and traced his fingers down her face and to her neck, his eyes lingering on her skin. Her breath came more rapidly as her stomach knotted with longing. Each controlled touch sent a thousand shivers through her. His hand finally reached the curve of her breasts, which pushed upwards as the dress was designed to have them do, and she arched her back against him slightly, unable to control herself. She moaned softly as he brushed over her skin and then he lifted his gaze and his eyes met hers. He leaned forward and finally they kissed. His mouth was warm and soft, and his lips were gentle, barely touching hers at first and then pressing harder as she responded, his hands exploring her body through the confines of her dress. She touched him back, her fingers running down his chest, and then resting one hand on his thigh, his leg strong beneath the material of his trousers. Unable to stop herself, she lifted the hand higher, enjoying the heat coming from him, and the urgency of his breath. He kissed her harder, his hand pulling at her skirts and she thought of Buttons’ fingers, slim and feminine and wondered how different the prince’s would feel.

She barely heard the clock chimes ringing out. She was lost in the moment, fireworks exploding in her mind and sending traces of intensity throughout her body. Even in her fantasies it had never been like this. She wanted to pull his clothes free and feel his skin next to hers. She couldn’t stand the longing, she was desperate for him. His hands were struggling with her underskirts and she wanted to tug them up and give him access. All childish thoughts fell away from her and she was suddenly all woman, eager to do all the things she had only heard about from Ivy and from the other, less well-behaved, girls in the town.

‘
I
t’s only midnight,’ he said, as the first chime echoed across the city. ‘We have hours yet. We could go somewhere and—’

‘Midnight?’ Her head still a haze, Cinderella could barely focus, but the word cut through the heat that filled her. ‘It’s midnight?’

‘Yes, but—’

She broke free from him so suddenly it took him by surprise. His arms fell away, and by the time he reached for her again she was already at the doors. She had to leave by midnight, even though every inch of her wanted to stay in the prince’s arms and kiss him all night. The fairy godmother’s icy expression flashed behind her eyes. She had to do as she’d been told.

‘I have to leave!’ she called back as she yanked the door open, grasping the handle from the footman in order to get back in more quickly. ‘I’m sorry. I have to leave.’

She let her eyes drink in his handsome face one more time and then she turned and fled. As she pushed her way through the dancing couples, she knew he was coming after her. She kept ahead and finally broke clear of the ballroom, running down the sweeping red staircase to the exit. She could see the carriage, door open, waiting for her, the rough driver already sitting at the reins.

‘Hurry up!’ he called.

‘Wait!’ the prince shouted, chasing her down the stairs. ‘Wait! I don’t even know your name!’

Cinderella ran faster still and threw herself, all dignity forgotten, into the back of the carriage that was already beginning to move away. She dragged the door closed as the horses picked up speed, and then, recovering her breath, she peered back through the window. The prince was staring after her, one hand reaching out as if he could somehow pull the carriage back to him. The cold night air gripped one foot and she looked down and the last chime rang out. One of her enchanted shoes was missing. How could it have come off? And when? They fitted so perfectly. And what would her fairy godmother say?

A
s it turned out, the fairy godmother was waiting for them and as Cinderella climbed out of the coach in her dull house dress with her hair loose, she didn’t seem overly concerned about the diamond slipper. ‘It’ll find its way back, I’m sure,’ she said and smiled as if she understood something that Cinderella didn’t. That didn’t surprise Cinderella. She thought there were probably a lot of things the fairy godmother understood that were beyond her own reach.

The night was cold and she was suddenly tired, even though her heart was racing.

‘You’ve got your prince. Now remember your promise,’ the fairy godmother said. ‘Do what I asked of you or none of this will end well.’

Cinderella nodded. Not that she knew how she was ever going to get back into the castle again. The prince didn’t even know her name, and she’d been in too much of a panic to shout it to him.

‘And you,’ the fairy godmother glanced at the driver as a flurry of stardust swallowed up both her and the glittering coach, ‘Remember, it’ll be morning soon.’ By the time she’d finished the sentence, the echo of the words were all that was left of her. Cinderella shivered and glared at him. ‘You were going to drive away without me.’

‘I knew you’d make it.’ He leaned on the wall. ‘Did you get what you wanted? Is true love in the air?’

‘What would you know about it?’

‘I know a few things,’ he said, leaning in closer, one hand teasing a strand of her wild red hair. Cinderella pressed herself back against the kitchen door, but she could feel his musky heat and she still throbbed from her embrace with the prince. He touched her hair. She couldn’t help but shiver slightly and she couldn’t decide if it was revulsion or attraction.

‘I know your hair looks prettier free than trapped,’ he said. ‘Like most things. I also know princes are just men. Mainly not very good ones. And a castle can’t give a girl like you what the woman inside will want.’

‘You don’t know anything.’ Why did he make her feel so uncomfortable and awkward? Why couldn’t he just shut up and leave?

‘I know you’re no court lady.’ He smiled, his teeth white and even against his rugged face. ‘And it would be a shame to see you turn into one.’

‘The prince loves me,’ she said, defiantly.

‘So you say. But do you love him?’

Finally, behind her back, she found the latch to the gate and pushed it open. ‘That’s none of your business.’ He was so arrogant. Who was he anyway? Just some lackey. She stomped down the stairs to the kitchen door. ‘But yes,’ she said. ‘I think I do!’ She closed the door behind her without looking back.

O
ver the course of the two days after the prince’s last Bride Ball a black storm raged over the city. A fierce wind blew down from the mountain so hard that they said it was the ghostly fire of the dead dragons’ breath, so long cold in their graves. It blew the snow canopy from the forest into the city streets. Thunder and lightning waged a war in clouds so low that those brave enough to venture out claimed that if they stretched an arm up they could touch them. The sky was a roiling ocean and all the people could do was to huddle round their small fires and wait for it to pass.

The anger of the storm outside, however, was nothing compared to the dark atmosphere that gripped Cinderella’s house. Ivy, like everyone else in the city who had heard of the strange turn of events at the second ball, braved the weather and visited her sister and mother. She didn’t stay long. Cinderella hid while her step-mother railed at Ivy for not helping them more, and then launched into a bitter attack on the pathetic physicality of her noble husband. Ivy slapped her and left. The house stood in silence for a long time after that, the girls staying in their rooms to avoid being caught by a wandering lash of Esme’s tongue.

Rose got everything worst. Her pale skin was constantly blotched from crying and, at every meal time, Cinderella and her father would listen to the digs and jibes and feel the stings with her. Esme was drinking too. It was as if something inside her had cracked. Finally, as she berated Rose once more for being useless and destroying all her dreams of her old life which she’d come so close to achieving, Cinderella’s father finally slammed his hand down on the table and stood up.

‘If this life is so bloody terrible, Esme, why did you choose it? It was love that mattered then? Don’t you love me now?’

Cinderella and Rose both shrank down in their chairs. Their parents didn’t argue. They didn’t appear to have much in common, but they never fought.