Dearest Cinderella (4 page)

"I was on my way to read and
respond to his message when I found my original diary in the hands
of one of the thugs, they were all laughing, I assumed that one of
them was Jon."

"He sounds terribly romantic.
Your Jon I mean, not the thugs of course." Cinderella laughed at
the faraway look on the woman's face.

"Far from it, he's terribly
awkward, slow to catch onto jokes, arrogant..."

"Oh but you care for him."
Cinderella blushed. Fairgem had always been incredibly perceptive.
She could look at a person and just know.

"I do." She sighed.

"Well don't look so forlorn
about it. He must like you too." She smiled in amusement at Fairgem
and her assumption.

"I don't know anything about
him. He could be an old married man with grandchildren for all I
know." Fairgem regarded her thoughtfully, pulling the flask
smoothly out of Cinderella's hands, taking a swig, and smiling
softly at her daughter.

"Or, he could be a titled young
lord who has just come into his inheritance and is ready to find
himself a bride."

"It matters not anymore, I doubt
I could ever reenter the forest again after today. I suppose I will
never know." Fairgem regarded her thoughtfully. Her mind ticking
over Cinderella's options. Determined of her to meet her mysterious
writer.

CHAPTER

FIVE

It had been exactly six days
since Cinderella had written. Prince Mark knew this because each
day, without fail, he would open that book he'd put in the hole, in
the hopes that she'd replied, and find an empty passage where her
thought provoking words should have been held. He'd asked her to
draw a picture of herself in his last message and instead received
silence. He wanted to talk to the girl who held his attention day
and night. Often he thought about her, wondering whom she was,
worrying about her and her family. But she'd told him not to
interfere, now with her silence looming over him he wondered
whether he'd done the right thing by respecting her decision. He
threw the book down in frustration. Where the devil was she? For
although he was mostly certain that something was keeping her from
talking to him, in the back of his head there was an ever-present
possibility that maybe he'd bored her, maybe she'd decided she had
better things to do with her day. Maybe he should have told her
that he was the Prince...No. He couldn't bear the idea of his best
friend only talking to him because he was royalty. He paced and
paced by the tree, overwhelmed with worry for her, what had
happened. Probability pointed to her family for the reason she
hadn't been heard from in almost a week but he couldn't contact
them, didn't even know where they lived as a start. He knew nothing
about Cinderella other than what she'd told him and she'd told him
very little. She'd told him that she adored strawberries but not
where she lived, that she hated cats but not birds. Indeed it
seemed to the Prince that maybe he knew her not at all. He sat down
next the tree and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to calm
himself for he'd started to panic. Images of her being hurt or kept
inside because of their correspondence flashing through his head.
Oh what he'd give to go back in time and demand to know more
about-

Footsteps rang in the distance.
His heart raced, he jumped up from the forest floor and brushed a
nervous hand through his hair before rolling his eyes and yanking
his hand down to a more casual position. Cinderella.

She walked through the trees and
stood facing him in the clearing. She looked nothing like what he
thought she would. Her hair loose around her shoulders, long
silvery white hair that reached bellow her bosom. Her face aged
with time, crinkles marring at the corner of her eyes hinting at a
life spent laughing. She walked slowly, as her eyes met his she
froze.

"Your Majesty." Her eyes wide,
she bowed deeply. The Prince watched her, confused. How could this
frail small woman be his lively Cinderella?

"Cinderella?" Her eyes widened
even further then she smiled, her body humming with restrained
laughter. She came closer.

"No, your Highness. I've come
with a letter." She placed a small folded piece of paper in his
hand then took a step back. He watched her in complete confusion.
Had he missed something? Who was this lady?

"Who are you, madam?" She smiled
softly.

"I am a very good friend of
Cinderella's, we were separated for some time but we've been
recently reunited."

"Nurse Fairgem?"

"Yes, your Majesty. I see she's
told you about me." Cinderella had mentioned her nurse, but that
she'd lost her. With vague terms the Prince had assumed that by
lost she'd meant dead. He looked down at the page, wondering what
it meant that she'd sent someone to deliver her message.

"Is she hurt? Injured? Ill?" He
stepped towards her nurse. She shook her head silently.

"Read the letter, your
Highness." He felt a faint touch of annoyance. She refused to look
him in the eye. From what Cinderella had written, he'd taken to
believing that her nurse was outspoken, mischievous and loud.
Nothing like this docile creature standing before him. Pushing the
thought from his head he opened the letter and read:

Dear Jon, I apologise for not
writing sooner. You see a few days ago when I came into the forest
to reply to your message I was instead met by thugs. I am safe now,
there is no need to worry...

"What happened?" Her words
chilled him. Nurse Fairgem looked at him hesitantly. "Please, you
can trust me, I mean her no harm." Her eyes flashed.

"Trust, your Highness. I came
into the forest today in the hopes that I might meet a Jon." There
was the sharp tongue that Cinderella had warned him of.

"You are angry with me. Please
speak freely, I wish only to listen. Think of me as a friend." She
took a step closer.

"Cinderella is under the
impression of you being a simple gentleman." He ran his hand
through his hair again, trying to think of what to say. The woman's
piercing eyes offering him no escape.

"I thought it might be easier
than telling her."

"Do you care for her?" He looked
away, avoiding her gaze.

"That is something between her
and I, not something I care to discuss with the rest of the world
before discussing with her first." To this the lady grinned and
laughed.

"Just as I'd hoped." He regarded
her warily. She still hadn't told him what had happened.

"Please tell me, what happened
to Cinderella?" The lady's face sobered.

"Thugs carried her into town to
sell her to a local brothel, but I intervened at the right time,
called the attention of a police man, stopped the whole thing.
She's at home safe now, but she won't be coming into the forest
again, you can understand why." The woman spoke fast, hardly
pausing to take breath. "She didn't even want me coming in, told
her I'd give the letter to the bakers boy down the road to deliver
it but I couldn't miss the opportunity to become acquainted with
her Jon. If you don't mind me saying, your Highness, you should
read the rest of the letter."

... A week from today I shall
be attending the King's ball. I know you would hate such an event
but I would dearly love to see you there. Perhaps we can meet
face-to-face, share a dance or two. I will be the one wearing the
pink dress with lace sleeves. You may find me if you wish.

Post script: I promise to do my
best to not fall in love with the Prince.

The Prince groaned. Looked away
from the letter to the woman's grinning face then groaned
again.

"Have you read this?"

"I might have." He folded the
page then deposited it into his pocket. He ran a hand over his jaw
and mouth, smoothing his roughened cheeks.

"Will she hate me?" Nurse
Fairgem seemed to notice the faint sound of hopelessness in his
voice and came over to lay a hand upon his shoulder as if he were
her son and not the future ruler of the kingdom.

"Cinderella isn't like others.
Her heart is pure. She doesn't hate. She forgives. When I offered
for her to stay with me instead of returning to that wretched house
she calls home, she refused. Said she couldn't just leave her poor
sisters with their mother. That she had to help them to be better.
That is the type of girl Cinderella is, so banish any thoughts of
her treating you differently or being after the crown. She's
remained truthful to you, now you must return the courtesy."

"Thank you." He was truly
touched by the woman's acceptance "Please, allow me to be the one
who tells her," she bowed her head in affirmation. "Come, I shall
escort you home."

"Oh there's no need, your
Highness." He grabbed ahold of the reins of his horse.

"It is the least I can do." They
began walking toward the direction of Nurse Fairgems modiste with
the old lady's hand looped through the Princes arm as though she
were royalty. She smiled giddily, not feeling any of the fear that
had trailed behind her on the way into the forest.

"I would like to ask you for a
favour."

"Anything, your Highness"

CHAPTER

SIX

It was the middle of the night,
not a sound could be heard in the entire house but for the faint
whisper of fabric over fingertips and Cinderella humming under her
breath. Not a soul was awake, nobody knew that in her room, with
only the smallest candle for light, Cinderella was busy sewing a
gown. It was one of her stepmother's old dresses, but she was sure
that with more than a few adjustments she would not recognise it.
Cinderella had found the dress thrown in the dumpster after her
stepmother had spilled wine on the hem of the full skirt. It had
taken her two days to fully clean it and then another three to
completely remove the stain. The dress was of such a fine quality,
made almost entirely from Italian silk, that it would have been a
shame to waste such a beautiful garment. Cinderella set about
adjusting the height of the bodice, restitching elements that had
fallen off or frayed throughout the cleaning process. She adjusted
the height of the sleeves and length of the skirt, hemming it at
the bottom to shorten it. All the while she dreamt of the ball.
Imagining twirling, dancing and laughing. She wondered what Jon had
thought of her letter. Whether he would deign to meet her.

Every night, once her chores
were finished, everyone had taken supper and the last light had
flickered out, Cinderella would continue working on the dress. Now
with the ball in the evening, Cinderella was even more determined
to attend. She entered town, helping her two sisters to shop for
last minute fixtures to their dresses, waiting as they took their
fittings and measurements, carrying their bags. They walked into
ribbon shop after ribbon shop, looking for ribbons and trinkets
that might attract an unwitting Prince or any young rich gentleman.
It had been some time since her stepmother had allowed Cinderella
to spend time with her sisters. She'd sent word down with a servant
that she'd taken to a migraine and that Cinderella would go along
with the girls instead. She watched them as they strolled down the
street, ahead of her, as if she were a common servant. It saddened
Cinderella for she hoped that if only she could be honest with
them, they could treat her like a sister. Share with her their
secret jokes, carry some of the bags, stop ordering her about. All
they knew of her was what their mother had told them, that
Cinderella was a distant and disgraced cousin. So far removed from
what was proper and correct that she'd been reduced to the work of
a servant. Cinderella was dim-witted, lazy and hated their entire
family. The only time they ever willingly talked to her was when
they were asking for breakfast, luncheon and dinner. Sometimes,
when one of them was upset she'd watch them retreat to their room
to deal with it alone, for that had been what their mother had
taught them, to pull their feelings deep within, so far that nobody
could see the pain. Especially those who cared. Cinderella
contemplated this as they made their way home, travelling in the
coach. As they descended the steps of the carriage Cinderella could
feel that something was wrong. Like a tug in her chest, an uneasy
feeling in her stomach. She entered the house cautiously behind her
sisters, placing the bags down by their rooms. As she passed her
stepmother's room she heard a clear, "Oh, Cinderella."

Her voice was sugary sweet, it
left an awful taste in Cinderella's mouth as she turned to face her
stepmother. She opened the door fully and stepped into the room,
finding her stepmother lounging on the end of her bed with, to
Cinderella's horror, a pink dress with lace sleeves.

"S-stepmother." Abruptly she
stood from the bed and threw the dress Cinderella had laboured over
down.

"How many times have I warned
you not to address me as such?" Her eyes flashing, taut with barely
restrained fury.

"I'm sorry." Cinderella noticed
the way her stepmother slowly approached, drawing in on her and
forcing her to take steps backwards until she found her back flush
against the wall. Her stepmother eyed her disdainfully before
turning back to the bed and picking up the dress once more.
Cinderella watched, her breathing hitched, nerves on end.

"So..."

"Madame, I can explain." She
rushed to assure her, taking careful notice of the way her
stepmother's hands seemed to be testing the stitching, pulling the
dress to the point of which it almost ripped then releasing, only
to begin again in another area.

"Please." Cinderella hadn't been
expecting to be allowed to explain herself, so when given the
opportunity it all fell out without elegance or alacrity.

"I wanted to go to the ball
tonight, everyone has been invited, even I have. I thought you
didn't want the dress because I found it in the dumpster and I
didn't want to ask you to buy me a new dress so I thought it would
be easier. I've been mending it after I finish all my chores, I
haven't neglected anything I promise." A slow smile crept along her
face as Cinderella watched her stepmother rip the skirt at the hem
strait along so that the dress hung in the air, from her hand, in
tatters.