Roses and Black Glass: a dark Cinderella tale (17 page)

1

Isabella’s morning had begun with a loud pounding on
the door downstairs.  It had gotten worse when she’d discovered that her servant
was not there to accept the food and supplies from Lionel Carpenter, who
delivered the goods to the manor weekly.  Isabella had to take it upon herself
to supervise the unloading without Cindy, boiling with anger with each passing
moment for the girl’s negligence.  Charlotte stood behind her in the doorway
with a shawl around her shoulders, looking incredibly ill.  Isabella wondered
only briefly about her sister’s state before she dismissed it as simple
weakness.  As much as Charlotte wanted to be, she was
not
like their
mother.

“I believe
that’s the last of it, ma’am,” said Lionel, wiping the sweat from his brow
despite the chill of the messy morning.

“Thank you, Lionel,” said Isabella as politely as
possible since her thoughts had been interrupted. “I’ll have your payment sent
in a couple of days.”

She did not look at him when she spoke.  She’d spotted
a figure emerging from over the top of the hill. 

On the other side of things, Lionel had suspected that
the van Burrens were completely drained of money.  They’d never been late with
a payment, but he’d always suspected they struggled for it.  Then again, their
mother had just passed and the girls were left alone now.  He might have been
more accepting of the matter – if he hadn’t needed money himself.

“But…ma’am,”
he sputtered, attempting to reason.

“You’ll
just
have to wait,” she said insistently.

Lionel was
about to protest once again when a figure moved past him and up onto the porch
of the house, wet and dirty.  Her dress was soaked around the hem with mud and
her short hair was plastered to her pale face.  She was like a ghost or a past
memory.  The man lost all words at her sight.

Cindy did not
look at Isabella, but Isabella looked at her, ready to yell and scream until
she realized that Cindy was not going to stop.  She trudged on toward the open
door of the house.

“And just
where have you been?” Isabella demanded hatefully.

“I went to the
hanging,” was Cindy’s curt reply. 

Charlotte
moved out of the girl’s path without words, and Isabella might have been angry
with this if not for the pure satisfaction that the hanging had been all her
own doing.  Anything that caused Cindy grief increased her own pleasure.  She
turned back to Lionel, this time wearing an evil smile on her pretty lips.

“I promise
that it won’t be long before you receive payment.  Our affairs are a bit out of
order at this time.  Since mother’s death, you understand.  Besides, I’m sure
you’ll be making deliveries to the Charming house soon.  The wedding will be a
grand event when it occurs in three weeks.”

She spoke
those words slyly, for she knew in her heart that it wasn’t over yet.  There
would be a wedding in three weeks, but it would be her own.

Lionel looked
up solemnly from under his hat at Isabella.  She stared back at him in
curiosity, wondering what she could have said that would send him into this
state of shock at her words.  She made the smile fall from her face, though all
the while knowing what he was about to bring to her attention.

“You obviously
haven’t heard, ma’am,” he began.

“Heard what?”
asked Charlotte with a sniffle and a shiver from the cold.  It was the first
she’d spoken all morning.

“The lady,
Morgana Thompson, who is to marry young master Charming has fallen seriously
ill.”

There was
silence for a few moments, and even inside the house, Cindy stopped to listen.

“Sick?” asked
Isabella, feigning concern. “The flu?”

“Worse than
that, miss,” he said. “It seems that they don’t know
what
is wrong with
her.  At midnight last night she awoke feeling awful.  I had to make a special
run to take some new linens and tonic to the house.”

“Strange how
she should just come up sick like that,” said Isabella thoughtfully. “Why, it’s
just like what happened to mother.”

“True.  The
doctor compared it to that very thing, but the witch was hanged a short time
ago.  Perhaps it was the last lingering bit of her magic.  That’s what some are
saying.”  The man laughed. “I’ve heard all the gossip at my stops this
morning.”

Charlotte
seemed to have grown paler at the news, and while Isabella seemed surprised,
she didn’t seem to think it was very terrible.  But why would she?  Why would
any young woman in this town?  Christian Charming was like a prince here.  The
death of his fiancé would only mean that he would have to choose to marry
another.   

“Still, that’s
not all,” Lionel continued despite himself. “Her cousin, Beatrice, who came
here with her has also fallen ill. Both are bedridden and Doctor Jameson is
quite confused.  No one knows if there is hope for either of them.”

“How awful,”
said Isabella.

Charlotte said
nothing in the door, but simply looked down at the ground.  Isabella lifted her
eyes to the sky.  The man wondered what she was thinking.  Was that a smile on
her lips?  It didn’t matter.  He couldn’t be paid if there was no money to be
paid with, and there was no sense in standing around wasting time while there
were more deliveries to be made.  Lionel pulled on his hat.

“Well, if that
is all, I’ll be off then, miss,” he said.

“We will see
you back next week.  I’ll send your pay in a couple of days,” reminded
Isabella, brushing past her sister and walking into the house.

2

     Cindy
took care to hide her stitches beneath her hair while she worked to put away
the things that Lionel had delivered.  When she’d come home, she’d gone
straight upstairs to change and then gone to work.  She’d said nothing to
Isabella.  Isabella said nothing to her.  All the while, she thought about the
shoe. 

     How would
she know what to do with it?  Amanda was gone, and all she had to go by was the
letter she had been left.  She’d let it stay with Christian as well.  One line
from it kept coming back to her mind, but she still wasn’t sure how to use it.
…
when placed within the right obsession… 
What did it mean?

     And what
of Morgana and Beatrice?  Were they part of the prophecy?  Was their sickness
supernatural and urged on by Amanda as Anna’s had been, or was it something
else?  It seemed a bit wrong to involve innocent people just because
someone
had to die, but it also crossed her mind that Christian might have been
responsible.  He knew about the prophecy and he knew that there were to be
eight deaths.  He had access to both women, for they were staying in his
house.  But would he do such a thing?  And could she feel the same way about
him if he had?    

Lost in her
thoughts, Cindy had not realized she wasn’t alone in the room any longer.  She
turned from the cupboard to find Charlotte’s troubled gaze staring back at
her.  Charlotte looked as much of a wreck as she, herself, did.  For a moment,
Cindy almost felt sorry for the girl
– almost
– but that still did not
stop her from hating Charlotte.  She was such a string-puppet, controlled by
her mother first and now by Isabella.  Perhaps, though, it was not worth any
sympathy.  Perhaps it was just pathetic.

“Did you make
Christian hate us?”

The sound of
Charlotte’s voice was foreign to her ears.  In all of her years with them,
Cindy didn’t think she’d ever seen either of them cry, and it looked now that
Charlotte had cried out several years of her life.  Cindy did not feel broken,
however.  She stared back at the red-head boldly.

“I haven’t
seen Christian in three years,” she said with firmness that promised truth when
there was only a lie.

Charlotte said
nothing else, only lowered her eyes to the ground and then stepped past Cindy
and went out of the kitchen.  Cindy watched a moment before deciding not to
concern herself with the behavior of her sisters.  She wanted them to hurt. 
She wanted them to experience the same torture that she’d been living these
three years.  Soon, they would.  She was sure of that.

Turning her
thoughts back to the shoe and the letter, Cindy returned to her work.

3

     Isabella
gazed at herself in the mirror, fluffing her golden curls and admiring the look
of her eyes and the curves of her lips.  She would not go to Christian in the
midst of this tragedy, but it would all be over soon.  After that, he would
come to her.  He would have no choice.

If there was
one thing still bearing on Isabella’s mind, it was the woman who she had seen
Christian with at the dance several nights ago.  He had certainly seemed cozy
with her, but then suddenly she was gone.  No one knew who she was, where she
had come from, or where she had gone.  And then suddenly Christian had
announced his engagement to a woman from out of the state.  But Isabella was
certain that Morgana had not been the one at the ball.  She was far too fat. 
The woman in the red dress had been so perfect-looking…

Isabella shook
those thoughts away.  There was no need to be troubled by them.  That other
woman was gone, and since Christian had made no attempt to look for her,
Isabella chose to let herself be satisfied.  She smiled at herself there in the
reflective glass.  She was beautiful
and
clever.

The smile
faded when the mirror showed her the figure standing behind her.  Wrapped in a
shawl, it stood still near the door.  The woman there was dressed in white, her
long dark hair hanging in damp curls.  She swayed slightly as she stood staring
at Isabella.

With a short
gasp, the girl turned toward the doorway, finding that the woman with the dark
hair that she thought she’d seen was only her sister Charlotte, looking at her
with stinging eyes from within a pale face.

“What is it?”
Isabella demanded as her heart finally began to slow.  Charlotte stared deep
into her eyes.

“Why did you
have to do this?” she asked. “I know you’re responsible for those girls being
sick.  Mother would not approve.”

“Oh would she
not?” Isabella asked in return, unable to stop the laugh that burst from her
throat.  “What part of it, exactly, would she find unladylike?”

“It was too
reckless,” Charlotte said, her sorrow turning to anger. “How did you even
manage to get close enough to poison them both?”

A snide smile
crossed Isabella’s lips.

“Magic,” she
said sarcastically, moving toward the door to escape this conversation.  If
Charlotte sat and thought a moment, she would realize that she was being
foolish.  Isabella was only doing what had to be done.  She’d had no remorse
when she’d cleverly poisoned the drinks of Morgana and Beatrice the night
before at the party.

“I’m serious!”
Charlotte yelled, refusing to let Isabella get away. “What if you get us caught
this time?”

Isabella
rolled her eyes in anger, turning back on her sister with the air of command
passed on by their mother.

“Would you
stop
this
?” she demanded.  “Why must you be so weak?  This had to be done!  We
are going to get what we deserve!”

“But mother’s
plan was – ” 

“Mother is
dead
!”
Isabella screamed in a harsh tone.

Charlotte fell
silent.  She was still traumatized by the event, but she had to accept it! 
There was no sense in believing that the woman was coming back to save them,
because she was gone!  Isabella began to pace heatedly.

“I
will
have Christian,” she said. “No one will stand in the way of that – not even
you!  And mother has
nothing
to do with this anymore!”

Charlotte
shook her head in helplessness.

“How can you
say this?” she asked. “Mother did so much for us!  She saw that we had money! 
She planned everything!”

“And she made
you kill,” she said. “
You
didn’t want to kill either of them.”

The red-head
was silent.  It was true.  She hadn’t wanted to kill either of Cindy’s parents,
but mother had insisted that it was the only choice.

“But that was
what mother wanted,” said Isabella. “And so you helped.  When Mrs. Madison was
diagnosed with the wasting disease,
you
helped make sure she died more
quickly.  When Charles Madison’s money was not enough for eternal support,
you
helped poison him to make him sick as well!”

“Stop it!”
Charlotte screamed pressing her hands to her head. “I didn’t want to kill him!”

“Of course you
didn’t want to kill him!” said Isabella. “Do you think
I
wanted to kill
him?  He was the only father I’d ever known as well.  All I wanted was a little
fatherly attention – a little love.  Yet he wouldn’t give it to us, would he? 
All he wanted to do was give his love to Cindy, his blood daughter.  He didn’t
care that we existed!”

“Is that why
you hate her?” Charlotte considered quietly.

“That is why
we
both
hate her, dear sister,” she corrected. “And that is why our
emotion for him was not strong enough to keep us from helping mother kill him.”

“He dies,”
Charlotte quoted from her mother. “And onto the next…”

“I am telling
you, silly girl, there will be no ‘next’. There doesn’t have to be a ‘next’. 
After Morgana is dead, I will convince Christian to marry me, and then, my
sweet foolish sister, I will be able to take care of you.”

Isabella
softened her voice and put her hands to Charlotte’s face, stroking her hair
gently.

“You want to
be taken care of, don’t you?” Isabella asked, looking into her green eyes.
“Everything will be wonderful then.  Mother
would
be proud.”