Roses and Black Glass: a dark Cinderella tale (3 page)

Though he was
cold and had no affection for Isabella, in truth, he saw himself marrying
someone like her.  That was why he had told her those things.  She was someone
he could manipulate – without doing it directly.  She was a woman who wasn’t
quick to his sarcasm.  He would admit: Charlotte seemed the more agreeable,
though also more desperate, but Isabella’s jealousy and anger was what made it fun
for him.  He found her wrath amusing, while Charlotte only complied with his
every word.  He wanted someone to argue with.  Isabella would stay by his side
forever.  The way they were now was what he pictured married life to be.  He
would still treat her with no mercy for her ignorance, though she never seemed
to realize this.  If she was not turned away from him now, she would never
leave.

Still, though,
his mind was filled with the girl he’d just met.  Why had he never seen her
before?  It was a shame to keep her shut away like she was.  Perhaps, were it
not for that, he would have been interested in the pretty, melancholic girl. 
His curiosity now rested squarely with her – the young woman with the pale
skin.  She seemed his equal in every way, and he imagined them engaging in
hours of conversation, sharing thoughts all their own, with plenty of
bickering, of course.  Though he thought this, his meeting her had not in any
way convinced him that he would avoid his destiny or that he would not have the
marriage he pictured.

He lifted his
feet to step up into the carriage as one of the footmen closed the door.  His
brief step away from reality had made no impact on the world, and down the hill
awaited the unpleasant norm. 

4

Isabella
watched him leave silently from the step. Jealousy and anger boiled inside
her.  He had met Cindy?  How was that possible?  She was working all day in the
basement.  Had he snuck down to meet with her?  Was that where he had been? 
The little tramp!  There would be an end to this, Isabella vowed.  It was a
different thing all together than his flirtatious arrogance with her sister,
Charlotte.  Cindy was different…  
Anyone
but Cindy!

She held in
the anger, tightly compressed in her belly.  A lady would never act as Isabella
felt then, but the dead girl downstairs could rest assured: she would be seeing
no more of Christian Charming.

5

Cindy put on
her night dress and pulled back the covers on her bed.  She had said goodnight
to her father and taken a warm bath to wash away the blood and soot.  The bath
had felt good to her after a long day of working in the cold mortuary. 

She had just
prepared the body of Kate Hensen, a woman who died of a long illness.  The
funeral was set for tomorrow at eleven a.m. at her father’s advisory.  Soon
after, she had found out that Mrs. Hensen had been Christian’s aunt.  Cindy
found herself satisfied that the reason he was there was not to see her
step-sisters.  The way they both swooned over him made her want to vomit more
than the smells from the corpses.  She only wished she could have seen them
falling over themselves like she was sure they had done.  To be so hungry for a
man’s attention was shameful.  She would never be caught doing it.

And yet…

Christian Charming… 
Their meeting today had not drifted far from her mind all evening.  She had
thought he was handsome as soon as she had looked up to see him standing there
in the basement hall.  She was quite curious as to who he was underneath that
beautiful exterior, but as soon as he had told her his name, she knew him.  He
was the one: the topic of all Isabella and Charlotte’s rambling.  They had even
spoken of him earlier today while they made the servants ready their finest
dresses.  Now that Cindy had seen him, she hated herself for falling under the
spell of his eyes, and refused to acknowledge it.

Sighing, she
walked to the iron cage on the table beside her bed and looked inside at the
fattened rat there.  He was slick and black with little black eyes that looked
at Cindy lovingly.  She had rescued him from a trap near the attic, and he had
been her pet ever since.

“Hi,
Augustus,” she said, sticking her finger through the bars.  The rat sniffled it
with its pink nose. “I hope your day was better than mine.  I met a man who was
completely full of himself.  He was the worst I’ve ever seen - yet there was
something about him.  He was pompous, no doubt.  A total windbag, it’s true,
but those eyes.  That dark hair…  He was perfect on the outside – though how
could I have expected less.  Did you know he is the one that Isabella and
Charlotte are always fawning over?  It’s funny: I don’t want him – no, I don’t
want him – yet I can’t bear the thought that he’d be with the pig or the mule! 
Such a waste.  Perhaps I just don't want them to have what they want.”

Cindy looked
over to the rodent, who was giving her his full attention through the bars and
wiggling his nose.  As she looked, she could see his ears moving carefully,
hearing sounds she couldn’t hear.

“What is it?”
she asked, but expected no answer.

In a quick
dash, the mouse turned and ran into the safety of a glass cup she had turned up
inside the cage.  Almost as soon as he had hid himself from view, there was a
pounding on Cindy’s door.

“Open the
door, Cindy!” came the call.

Cindy rolled
her eyes and lay down on the bed, ignoring the knocks.  She knew who it was,
but didn’t care what she wanted.

“What do you
want, Isabella?” she asked.

“Open the
door.  I have to talk to you,” she insisted.

“Go to sleep,”
Cindy insisted, laying an arm across her eyes.

“Open this
door or I won’t give you a moment’s peace!” the girl said, beating on the wood
again.

Cindy rolled
her head to look toward her pet.  “She’s probably not lying,” she said to him
secretly.

Cindy pulled
herself up angrily and walked across the cold floor in her bare feet. 
Isabella’s noise was sure to wake the whole household, and she wouldn’t stop
until she was appeased.

“What do you
want?  You’re going to wake the whole house!” Cindy said in a harsh whisper
after she had pulled the door open.

“I heard you made
a new friend today,” Isabella said, twisting her blond hair around a slender
finger.

“What are you
talking about?” Cindy asked in annoyance, aiming to push the door closed again. 
She was done with her step-sister’s ridiculous drama, but Isabella caught it
abruptly and pushed it back open.

They glared at
each other through the crack in the doorway where Isabella had wedged her
slippered foot.  The girls had been rivals ever since the first day that Anna
and her daughters had moved into this house.  Once mere girls of ten, there had
always been a grudge between them.  Isabella had been determined to crush Cindy
and steal the affection of both parents, and Cindy had been smart enough to
recognize the other girl’s intention.  They had been destined for pure hatred
from the beginning, and Cindy would be happier to watch her die than to spit on
her if she erupted in flames.

“Christian. Charming,”
Isabella reminded her in a haughty tone. “You spoke to him today.  He came to
see you.  I just want you to know that you will never be seeing him again. 
He’s
mine
.”

“Not that I
would want to,” said Cindy disgustedly.  She was being accused of setting her
intention’s on a boy she had only just met?  “I think the two of you belong
together.  Goodnight, Isabella.”

“Sure,” she
said. “You say that, but no one can resist Christian’s appeal.  He’s completely
irresistible.” She snarled her lip. “But he’d never be interested in you
anyway.”

This sent a
flame of anger through Cindy. 

“What if he
was?” she asked, only aiming to make the other girl feel the same humiliation
that she felt.

It seemed to
work.  Isabella’s expression grew sour.  “He
isn’t
.  Besides that, if I
have to make sure of it, I will.”

“What could
you possibly do?”

“You’ll see,”
said the blonde with a knowing smile. “As if I didn’t hate you enough already. 
I will completely
ruin your life
if it means I can keep you away from
Christian.”

“I welcome you
to try,” said Cindy darkly, feeling confident in her immunity.  As long as she
had her father, none of these others would be able to touch her.

“Have it your
way,” said Isabella, also confident in her own threat. “Sleep well.  Tomorrow
is the first day of hell.”

6

That night,
Cindy dreamed of blue eyes and dark hair.  Those things took on a form of
beauty that stood out above anything else.  There was a tall, strong young man
smiling at her - just for her - and then abruptly he moved into the distance. 
He was no longer a man.  He was a tree.

She saw the
lone tree behind the house where her mother had been buried years ago.  She saw
herself sitting beneath that tree, crying for days on end as the sun sank and
rose again over the horizon.  She heard her own sobs, but in the midst of them,
she heard her mother’s voice – the last words the woman had ever spoken to her
before her death. 

“Be a good
girl, Cindy.  Make me proud of you.  God will take care of you and I will be
with you always.”

Lastly, Cindy
saw roses, and a tear trickled down her cheek, soaking into the pillow.

1

“Upon the
death of Mr. Charles Henry Madison, the whole of his estate and fortune shall
be left to his wife, Anna Madison though if she becomes unable to fulfill her
duties or if death takes her first, the house and land shall fall to his
unmarried daughter, Cindy Madison, to be held until the time of her marriage. 
Charles requests upon death that Anna will keep watch over his daughter Cindy
and that she might be allowed to dwell in the house with Anna and her two
daughters until the day comes that she will wed, at which point, if she
requires the house, it will become hers… 

"
Mrs.
Madison?” 

The words had
been a puff of smoke in Anna’s ears, but she looked up when the magistrate
called her name.  Anna’s eyes, once beautiful but now entrenched with stress
and age, looked up toward the man with such a look of sorrow and bewilderment
that would make even the sternest of men fall to their knees.  To be widowed
was to evoke the softest form of pity, and she was not new to it.   

“Yes, I’m listening,”
she said distantly, wringing a handkerchief in her hands and peering at him
with misty eyes.

 “I am
dreadfully sorry about your loss,” the man said gently.  “The will requires you
agree to these terms concerning his daughter if I am to sign the property
titles over to you.  Will you comply with your late husband’s wishes and agree
to accommodate his daughter in your house?”

“I will,” she
said somberly.  “I will treat her like she was my own.”

Anna threw in
a heartbreaking smile as a tear rolled down her fair cheek, and the deal was
done.  

2

Three years
later…

The sign that
had hung near the road was no more, but the post still stood.  The business by
which Charles Madison had made his living was no longer in operation and the
basement of the house had been sealed away, no longer welcoming anyone to come
inside.  It was a piece of the Madison legacy that begged to be forgotten.

Over the past
years without its master’s care, the house had fallen into disrepair.  No
longer were the hallways filled with servants to keep the manor intact.  The
fortune had been squandered by the lavish tastes of its users, and it was never
to be replaced.

Only four
people let their presence linger in the household now, three years since the
death of Mr. Madison had taken its toll on everyone inside.   For a long while,
nothing at all was in any social order, but slowly, as time passed, Anna came
to gain control over the house and those who lived inside.  One by one, servants
left, until all that remained, living off the fantastic riches that they
withheld for themselves, where Anna and her two daughters.

Cindy still
dwelled in the house, but it was quite different from old times. The
dark-haired girl no longer went ignored and unnoticed, though she wished
greatly for it as days passed.  Her presence was needed in the house.  By her
father's death, she was made important.  Cindy was given the job as the only
maid and servant, forced by brutalities and torture. Though she performed many
of the household duties, her company was spoken of as a burden and she was
constantly reminded that the only reason she was still allowed to stay was
because it was her late father’s request, but there were no orders on how she
was to be kept.

Unsettling
thoughts of her father’s death still hung with Cindy.  Isabella had promised
her hell, and though the others were living in luxury, Cindy knew she was truly
living in the burning darkness.  Only a short few months after Isabella’s
promise, her father had died, and since that, everything had fallen darker than
before.

The man had
not been buried beside her mother beneath their tree, and that thing alone
caused Cindy great anger and pain, like a bad omen that spoke harsher of the
things to come.  Cindy had not been allowed to prepare him properly for the
earth - to search his body for the cause of his illness - and so he had been
thrown into the ground in a box with few words spoken over his body. 

She would
never forget this.

The girl’s
hair was usually dirty now, though so long it reached her thighs.  Her father
had always told her that her hair was what reminded him most of her mother, and
after he died, she had made a promise: she would never cut her hair again.  She
kept it pulled up tightly in a braided bun to save it from the toils of her
work.  

Cindy’s face
was always dirtied with soot and dust, gathering on her cheeks and along her
chin.  She was only allowed to bathe at the end of the day – only if it didn’t
interfere with her family’s plans.  Though they were cruel to her in this way,
she was always made to wash her arms and face before preparing food.

Cindy wore a
ragged brown dress, torn across the shoulder to reveal some old material of
white that she had made to cover her bare skin.  Only one sleeve of the dress
remained to protect Cindy’s arms from work.  The dress was ripped at an angle
across the bottom and gracing it was a dirty, white apron which was the only
thing on the poor girl that was not torn.  It bore the stains of her life like
a painted collage.  Protecting her slender legs were two oversized stockings,
and on her feet rested two old, black shoes that she had learned to maneuver in,
though they were too big for her.

Her hands were
wrapped carefully in dirty bandages. Tending to the fire had taken quite a toll
on her delicate hands, not to mention the scrapes and cat scratching she
received every day while dealing with a spoiled pet of Anna’s.  There was
emptiness in the girl's eyes, but if one looked hard enough, they might just
see a glimmer of life still dwelling inside her in some deep and forgotten
place.  There was not much left, for her sisters and mother had crushed most of
her spirit, but a spark of something remained.  Perhaps it was only hatred.  

Cindy endured
all of these things which had been Isabella’s promise of hell, and without her
father there to protect her, she was truly only at the mercy of the devil.   

The dining
room in which they all sat on this crisp autumn day held only a remnant of the
glory it had in the past.  The long redwood table still stood, accompanied by
its matching chairs.  The large crystal chandelier had been removed.  Long
drapes covered the windows to protect the interior from the outside world.  Aside
from removable items, a fireplace was set in the wall with a convenient pot for
cooking or warming food.  Other than those features, the room was empty, and
their footsteps echoed across it.  Most items that had been unessential were
sold to buy more pretty clothes for the van Burrens. They were all about
presentation, for they never spent much time at home.  As in former days, no
polite company wanted to venture here, and that suited them well.

Cindy’s place
at the dining table was on the far end near the door were the draft blew in.  The
other three chairs were arranged together at the other end, leaving Cindy to
stare down at those three vultures as they talked amongst themselves about
things to which Cindy was not welcome.  Once, they had made her take her food
in the kitchen like a servant, but had eventually decided that it was much more
convenient for her to be close if they wanted something.

The girl would
much rather be alone.

Isabella
dipped a silver spoon into the soup before her, stirring it gently before
raising the liquid to her dainty lips.  Almost as abruptly as she’d let the
soup enter, she spit it out into her cloth napkin unyieldingly and with
exaggerated stress.

“This is
cold
,
Cinderella!” said Isabella, who had insisted on calling Cindy the nickname ever
since she had heard it from Christian those years ago.

“You should
have come down to dinner when I told you it was ready,” the girl said quietly. 
Her fingers may have been worn, but her tongue was still sharp.

“Cindy!” Anna
scolded at once. “Where are your manners?  Don’t speak to your sister that
way!  Why don’t you ask her if she would like you to warm it for her?”

Charlotte
giggled a bit, pushing her red hair behind her ears as Cindy scowled.

“And wipe that
look off of your face,” said Anna. “Would you look at company in that manner? 
You should not treat your own sister with such disrespect.”

Cindy lowered
her head at the scolding.  Anna always took on this stance when dealing with
her.  She tried to keep Cindy’s spirit crushed by always reprimanding her so
calmly – as if they were all equals.

Cindy knew why
she allowed them to treat her this way.  They reminded her often – she was only
allowed to stay in the house because it pleased them.  Her father had left the
house and property to Anna, and they could throw her out into the street
whenever they desired to.  They would ensure that her reputation was disgraced
in the town, and she would have nowhere else to go.  This was Cindy’s life, and
was all that remained of what she’d had. 

Taking a
tolerating breath, Cindy rose and walked to Isabella’s seat, taking the bowl
from in front of her and going back to the kettle.  She poured the soup into
the pot and put the lid on. 
Like the obedient slave I am
.  She tended
to the fire with bandage-wrapped hands as the family she served continued their
conversation.

“What are we
doing today, mother?” asked Isabella, sitting straight as she waited for her
meal to return.

“We’re going
to buy
me
a new dress,” said Charlotte, before sipping her drink.

“That’s not
fair!  I want a new dress as well!” demanded Isabella, slamming her fist on the
table and then looking towards her mother.

“You got a new
dress
last week
!” yelled Charlotte.

“That was a
church
dress!” Isabella insisted as if her sister was an idiot. “I need a new one for
when we are to dine with Christian tomorrow.”

Cindy felt her
chest tighten at the mention, but she tried not to show that she'd been
affected. 

“You remember
Christian, don’t you, Cinderella?” Isabella asked pointedly.

Cindy put some
of the steaming hot soup into the bowl.  One would think that after three years,
Isabella would have stopped thinking these words had an effect, but the
arrogant girl never tired of those taunts.  Cindy said nothing in reply.

“He’s even
handsomer now than he used to be, don’t you think, Charlotte?”

“Oh yes,” said
the younger girl. “He’s truly grown up.  The three years have done him well.  I
do mean his face of course, though it would be wrong to ignore the rest of
him.”  She giggled scandalously.

“I believe he
is more attractive this month than last,” Isabella said leadingly, examining
Cindy’s face as she set the bowl back onto the table.  Cindy gave no indication
that she was even listening.  Inside, however, her heart and temples were
pulsing with blood. 

“And he would
make the perfect husband for one of you,” said Anna to her girls.

“You mean
me
,”
corrected Isabella as Cindy walked back to her seat.

“Don’t be so
sure,” said Charlotte, taking a spoonful of her soup.

Isabella
watched her a moment before speaking.  “Who would want to marry
you
? You’re
sloppy and messy - just like a
pig
!”

“Shut it, you
old mule!  Who would want to marry
you
?”

“Girls,
please
,”
scolded Anna. “You shouldn’t call each other names.  Besides, I’m sure that
one
of you will get Christian, and when you do, we will all reap the benefits of
that
loving marriage!”

This sent the van
Burren women into a round of excited laughter, though Cindy felt she had lost
her appetite.  Not only were her sisters after young Mr. Charming for his
radiant looks – and no doubt his superior seed – they were also groping for his
wealth with sticky fingers.  It made her sick.  Surely he was aware of this.  Cindy
honestly wished to see him together with her sisters just once, only to know how
he truly felt about them.  She wanted to see that he was above them, but she
wondered if she truly had hope for that.

But if I
could, at least I would know that he's not worth my thoughts.

“What are you
thinking about, Cinderella?” asked Isabella, when she noticed the girl was not
touching her soup.

Cindy looked
up to find six green eyes staring down the table at her in waiting.  This sight
truly
did
make her lose her appetite.

“Nothing,” she
said quietly, moving the spoon around in her bowl for a bit before she gave up
and set it aside.  “Could I be excused?  I’d like to get on with my chores.”

Anna sat for a
moment in silence and then finally nodded in consent.  “Of course,” she allowed,
“but be sure to get straight to them.”

Cindy rose
quickly from her chair as the eyes watched and she headed for the door.  Her
stepmother’s abrupt speech made her stop.

“You may
return in twenty minutes to clear the dishes.”

"Yes,
ma'am."  She felt daggers in her chest each time she said it, but had
become accustomed to being submissive by now.  This was her life.  There was no
escape.

3

Cindy wandered
down the hallway and out of sight.  Isabella watched her leave with disapproval
in her eyes, then stirred a bit of the steaming soup.

“That girl,”
she muttered aloud. “She can’t do anything right!  Now my soup is too hot!”

“Perhaps it is
all she
can
do,” their mother said with a dismissive shrug.  “You should
not comment on the failings of others.” 

She said this,
but she was smiling with approval.

“Personally, I
think she’s holding out on us,” said Isabella.