Roses and Black Glass: a dark Cinderella tale (5 page)

“You don’t
say,” said Samantha in consideration. “I suppose.  I was wondering why I never
saw her.”

“She told us
that she didn’t want to be here – that she wanted to be with her
real
family. 
She was quite rude about it really,” Anna scandalized, lifting a cup carefully
to her mouth.

“What a
horrible thing!” exclaimed Samantha.

“We have
gotten over it in time,” Anna assured her, “but, we still miss her.  Having her
around reminded me of Charles, who I still miss dearly.”

Samantha put a
sympathetic hand on the woman’s shoulder as Anna smiled within herself.  She
would be modest about it.  Honestly though, she liked the attention, and as
long as she could draw from it, she would do so.

2

Christian
smoked calmly, watching Charlotte take off her shoes and wade through the water
at the edge of the stream.  Isabella stood beside him, also watching silently. 
She knew he had wanted to be alone, but she couldn’t have her mother thinking
that she truly had feelings for him.  That would ruin many things that they had
planned. 

Isabella
watched the smoke roll from his mouth as he continued to refuse her his gaze. 
The young woman craved those eyes on her always, and it killed her inside when
he would not grace her with his admiration.  His eyes belonged on her skin.  No
one else’s.

After a few moments of standing there and being
ignored, Isabella could no longer stand his silence.  She took it upon herself
to break it.

“Do you think
us wicked?” she asked, keeping her voice out of Charlotte’s reach.

“Depends on
what you mean by
wicked
,” he mused, refusing to look back at her.

“Perhaps that
wasn’t the proper word,” she said thoughtfully.  “Do you think us
wretched
? 
Do you think we are wretched girls?”

He stood in silence a moment, looking out over the
water.

“At times,” he
said honestly.

Isabella stood
in defeat.  A while ago, she would have said that it would do well for him to
think she was wretched – even wicked – but not now.  The time was growing nearer
for him to choose, and strangely she could feel that she was no longer in the
lead.  She had no idea who might have beaten her, however.  Knowing him, he
would pick the most obscure lady he could find just to spite those who tried
hardest.

“We aren’t
just after your money, you know,” she assured him.

“Oh?  Not
just
my money.  You aren’t happy with just that?  I suppose you’re interested in the
manor and the land, the name–”

“That’s not
what I meant,” she said heatedly, stomping her foot against the ground.

“Watch that
temper,” he warned. “It’s unbecoming of a lady.”

“Why must you
tease me so?  Are you trying to push me away?”

“In a way,” he
said, still refusing to look at her.

“You would
have me to leave you alone then?  You would ignore me?”

She looked on
at him as he breathed more smoke.  He said nothing to this, which made her feel
hopeful. 

“You say
nothing," she pointed out.  "Is it possible that you have feelings
for me?”

“Don’t take my
silence to mean anything.  You assume much,” he said.

“But you gave
me no answer.  If you can’t say it, then there must be something there.”

“No,” he said
uncaringly, finally turning with cold eyes to look into hers.

The girl took
a deep breath, feeling heartbroken.  “So I have no chance at all?”

He sighed over
the water.  Was it not obvious to her?  Anyone else could have seen it.  Was
she so ignorant?

“You would
marry my money,” he told her, looking at the smoking end of his cigarette.  “I
don’t think you can convince me otherwise.”

“That’s what
she
wants me to marry you for,” the girl insisted, meaning her conniving mother.  “It
isn’t what
I
want.  I am
in love
with you.  Nothing less.”

“But most certainly
nothing more,” he confirmed, looking away.

“Why will you
not believe me?” she asked, raising her voice a bit, pulling on his coat to
turn him toward her again.

“You had your
chance!” he said, cutting her off forcefully, but keeping his voice low.  “I’ve
been more than fair, Isabella.  I’ve given everyone a chance.”  He shook his
head.  “I haven’t been impressed.”

“What will you
marry for then?” she asked, feeling desperate and sorrowful.  “Since you care
about nothing.”

“I will marry
for necessity and obligation.  I won’t say that I will look for nothing, though
I don’t know what to look for.”  He paused to laugh.  “Perhaps I
am
being a bit unfair.  I shun those who want to marry me for money, yet in
reality, I too am getting married for money’s sake.”

“You have not
answered me,” she said.  “Do I have a chance at all?  Will you not choose me?”

Christian stood in silence a moment.  He was unsure of
what he would do.  He supposed he would wait until the last moment and then
marry whoever was in his good graces.  He didn’t want to get this girl’s hopes
too high, for he knew not what he would choose.

“I don’t know,”
he said, honestly, and she knew it was the truth because of the way he looked
into her eyes.

The two stared
back at each other for several moments, neither one smiling.  Isabella wondered
what the young man was thinking, while Christian only wondered why he was still
standing here with her.

“I don’t love
you,” he said quite bluntly, to assure no confusion.

A small smile
reached Isabella’s lips and she lowered her head.  “I know,” she said. “But
perhaps, over time…”

He began to
shake his head slowly in assurance.

“I could never
love anything,” he said. “You would still have me?”

“Of course,”
she said.  “Why should I stop loving you simply because you don’t return it?”

He stood in
silence, peering at her.  How could she say this?  What would there be for her
then?  There was something not right about this girl.  He remembered a time
when he had gotten up in the morning and wouldn’t be pleased with himself until
he’d found something to annoy her with.  For a while, he’d had something very
special to bring up, which never failed to irritate her.  When he wanted to
make her eyes narrow comically and her mouth shrivel like a prune, he would
merely ask her about Cinderella. 
How is Cinderella?  Tell Cinderella I said
hello
.  Eventually, that too had ceased to amuse him and he hadn’t
mentioned it in years. 

But he had not
forgotten that girl with the dark hair and blushing lips.  He remembered her
now.

“What about
your step-sister?” he asked unexpectedly. “What ever became of her?”

Isabella
turned to face him in confusion and anger.  Where had that come from?  All
these years that she had tried so hard to keep Cindy away from him and
still
he thought about her?

“Cindy?” she
asked, baffled.  “Why would you ask about her now?”

“Why get so
defensive?”

“I’m not,” she
said, huffing and regaining herself.  “I was just curious as to why you would
think of her so suddenly, especially when talking about marriage.”

“And so?” he
asked, ignoring that.  “What about Cinderella?”

Isabella
huffed in disgust, hating the sound of him saying the name she’d chided the
girl with these past years.

“I told you,
she doesn’t live with us anymore,” she lied.  It was the same lie she had told
him before.  “She has gone to live with her aunt and uncle in Massachusetts.  I
think she married off to some shoemaker or something, last I heard.”

Christian
stopped short in his smoke.  He said nothing as he stood in thought.  So, she
was gone.  He had been right all those years ago about never seeing her again. 
Painfully right…

Isabella held
her jealousy within.  She wondered greatly if he would even think to ask about
her
if she was gone herself.  All of a sudden, the hell that she had given Cindy so
far didn’t seem to be enough.  Time was growing short.  She had to do something
drastic.  Isabella gripped the man’s coat, pulling herself close to him.  She
looked at him with hopeless longing.

“Come to the
house tonight,” she begged sensuously. “I’ll leave the kitchen door unlocked
for you.  You can come up the back stairs.  My room will be open.”  Her hand
slid across the front of his pants. “So will I.”

Christian
couldn’t say that he wasn’t stirred by the sound of this, or by the feel of her
fingers treading across his trousers that were growing tighter.  He didn’t love
her, but would it defile him to defile
her
?  He let his lips drift close
to hers.

“You know that
it would ruin you for any other man,” he whispered to her, letting their lips
brush.

“There is no
other man,” she told him, and he believed she meant it.

If he’d had
his way, even if it was only out of frustration, he would have lifted her
skirts and had her right there on the bank, but his thoughts were broken soon
enough.

Hearing a disturbance in the form of a large splash,
the two of them looked up to hear a small cry as Charlotte lost her balance and
fell backwards into the water.  Her dress was now wet, the liquid soaking
through her petticoats, and her face held a mortified expression.

Christian
smiled through his bad mood, forgetting about Isabella.  He waited a moment for
his arousal to fade and then went over to help the fallen girl. 

“That was very
clumsy of you, dear sister,” Isabella said with a scowl, angry that her moment
had been interrupted.

“Shut-it, you
mule!” Charlotte screamed and took Christian’s arm to be pulled up.

“Perhaps you
should be getting back home,” said Christian. “You wouldn’t want to catch a
cold now that you’re soaking wet.  The autumn chill isn’t good for you.”

“Don’t be
silly,” said Isabella jealously. “She hardly ever gets sick.”

“I insist,”
said Christian, to spite her. “In fact, I’ll see her home myself.”

Isabella
boiled with anger, but remained calm.  Christian was pulling her along.  If that
was what he wanted, that was what he would have – for now.  Though this picnic
was over, there was still time for careful planning.  Isabella would win this
at all cost.  He would come to her tonight; there was no doubt in her mind
about that.  She would show him how much she loved him.

1

Rain came down
heavily that night upon the roof of the Madison manor.  A fire was going in the
main parlor and all four of the house’s occupants were gathered there.  Anna
braided her long, graying hair while Isabella trimmed her nails and Charlotte
sat on the posh red sofa reading a love story.  The parlor at least was kept
intact and all the best furniture resided within.  This was just in case
someone did have to venture inside; they would not be appalled by the poverty
within.

Cindy sat by
herself in a corner, mending Charlotte’s dress.  The girl had stepped on the
train and ripped the wet material when Christian had helped her from the
water.  Though Charlotte had been escorted home by the man in his carriage, she
had felt the heat of embarrassment the whole time.  Ladies were not supposed to
be clumsy. 

“This was the
most embarrassing day of my life!” Charlotte declared, closing her book in
disgust.

“Then perhaps
you shouldn’t show your face at the party tomorrow.  You wouldn’t want
Christian laughing at you,” Isabella said as the rain pounded against the glass
behind her.

“He would
never laugh at me, you stupid girl!” said Charlotte angrily. “Besides, he’s
promised me that
I
will be the one.”

Isabella
looked up in anger.  “Like hell you are,
pig
!” she screeched.

“Girls,
please!” their mother chimed in. “You mustn’t practice these habits of speech
and manner.  In good time, it will all be revealed.  How many times must I tell
you that it doesn’t matter which one of you it is?  Sure, Christian is an attractive
young man, but it isn’t as though either of you truly
love
him.  Quite
honestly, you shouldn’t fight like you do.”

Both girls
fell silent at this, accepting their mother’s words.  It was true that
Charlotte was only in the game for her mother’s approval and because Christian
was quite handsome.  Isabella, however, had a different reason, and had
neglected to tell her mother of her true feelings.

Isabella had
been in love with Christian Charming ever since she had seen him four years ago
at his brother’s birthday celebration.  She had only been sixteen, but had been
the loveliest girl there.  She had danced with his brother and he had been
pleased with her.  It seemed she would get his proposal, but soon after, she
had seen Christian.  He had been standing against the wall - pale, tall, and
broad-shouldered, scowling lightly with the most wonderfully chiseled features.

Though she had
been chosen first, she declined the proposal of his brother, only to have a
chance with the younger Charming.  Her mother had been upset, but Isabella had
simply explained that she had not been the one, and that there was still
another brother she would try for.  Her mother had been content at this,
telling her to make sure she kept this one.

Isabella was
content, yet after today’s events, she felt closer to her goal.  She had
considered her afternoon for the rest of the day.  She remembered the feel of
him.  There had been desire in his eyes, even if there was nothing else.  He
would come to her bed tonight, and she would convince Christian that he needed
her.  Yes, everything was going accordingly.

Everything in
the room came to a sudden halt when a sharp pounding resounded at the front
door.  All four of them glanced up to look toward the entrance, but all were
too shocked to move at all.  The sound of rain grew louder in their ears.

“Who could
that be at this hour?” wondered Anna aloud.

“And in this
storm!” added Charlotte, setting down her book.     

Anna snapped
back to herself after a moment and looked over to Cindy, who was paused, needle
in hand, staring at the door.

“Don’t just
sit there, girl,” scolded Anna. “See who it is!”

Cindy draped
the dress over the arm of the chair and rose, taking small, hesitant steps to
the door.  Who would be there when she opened it?  She was in deep dread.  The
only reason she could think of for someone coming to the house so late and in
this storm was that something terrible had happened.  Though she feared this,
she was unsure of what exactly could have come about that was so terrible.

Reaching for
the handle, she pulled the heavy door open and lightning bolted through the
sky.  Before her was a figure in a long cloak hidden in the darkness, only to
come into shape when lightning illuminated the heavens.  Cindy could only stare
out, feeling a strong presence there.  Anna grew tired of waiting.

“Cindy! 
Welcome them inside!”

“Please step
inside,” Cindy bade, allowing the figure to enter, though feeling a creeping
chill when the stranger moved past her.

“Thank you
very much, dear,” said a feminine voice from under the hood.

All four women
waited in anticipation for the figure to be revealed.  Finally, drawing back
the hood, the four found themselves looking on at a woman of an unknown age
somewhere between twenty-five and forty years; it was almost impossible to tell
for certain.  Out from under the hood fell long, wine-colored locks and,
staring out, examining them all, were two large, black eyes.

“It’s coming
quite a rain out there,” the woman said, not overstepping her boundaries or leaving
the door area.

Cindy pushed
the door closed, not able to peel her curiosity from this mysterious woman. 
Who was she?  Where had she traveled from?

“Who are you?”
asked Isabella suddenly with skepticism.

“Oh!” the
woman cried.  “How rude of me!  Where are my manners?  My name is Amanda.  Miss
Amanda Jefferson.”

Amanda glanced
around the room before venturing to speak again, directing her attention to
Anna and ignoring the stares of her daughters.

“Could I ask
you, ma’am, if I might stay the night?  I have traveled a long way and the inn
is full.  I’ve checked.  I saw the large lovely house and figured you must have
rooms to spare.  I would be most appreciative.”

Anna thought
for a few moments about this, hesitant.  She didn’t like this woman's face.  Perhaps
it was those large, empty eyes…  But if people in town were to hear that she
had turned a traveler away, it would reflect badly upon her.

Very well
,
she thought. 
One night.
 

“You may stay
for the night,” Anna agreed.

“Might I ask
respectfully, madam, if the inn is full tomorrow, that I might have one more
night here?”

Anna continued
to eye her suspiciously, but couldn’t find it in her to be inhospitable because
of the impact it would make on the gossip circle.

“Very well,
Miss Jefferson.  Two nights,” the woman directed her gaze to the maid by the
door.  “Go and ready her room, Cindy.  Work quickly.”

Cindy sent a
last glance at the woman and then hurried upstairs to put down some clean linen
in one of the more decorated rooms.  The three other women stared on at Amanda
carefully in concern as to who she was.

“What did you
say your name was again?” asked Isabella curtly.

“Amanda
Jefferson,” the woman repeated, looking around with her black eyes.

“What brings
you to Greenhaven?” asked Anna conversationally.

“I have some
business in town,” the woman assured her without being direct.

“What kind of
business?” Charlotte demanded.

“Charlotte,
don’t be rude,” scolded Anna.  The young woman looked back up to Amanda with an
upturned nose.

“You’ll have
to excuse my daughters,” Anna apologized.  “They are quite unreasonable at
times.”

“That’s
alright,” Amanda assured her.  “I’ve dealt with worse.”

No matter how
awkward it seemed, the three van Burren women could not bear to take their eyes
off the mysterious woman.  It was as if she would attack them if they looked
away.  There was indeed something unsettling about her and each of them felt it
as an individual ache.

Hearing a
disturbance to the side, Amanda turned her head to the hallway arch to see a
large white cat sitting there, menacing at her with glowing eyes.  The cat
hissed once, and Amanda said nothing, only continued to peer down at it.  After
a moment of tail swishing, the cat obediently turned and darted away, as though
it had been scolded or stricken.

“Lovely cat
you have,” Amanda commented with a smile, turning her attention back to them.

“Yes,”
Isabella muttered.

After what
seemed like a long while, Cindy finally emerged from upstairs, to the relief of
them all.  She broke the awkward moment.

“Show our
guest to her room,” Anna instructed hurriedly. “After you are finished you
should go ready our beds – and please hurry.  I’m quite tired.”

2

Cindy did as
she was told, leading the strange woman up the creaky stairs.  There was a
heavy feeling in her stomach like lead weights, but she wasn't sure why.  The
presence of a stranger shouldn't have had any effect on her.  This was not her
house, after all.  Not anymore.     

Her
step-mother hadn’t mentioned that she was tired before the guest had arrived,
but she insisted that Cindy come straight back to prepare their beds.  All she'd
meant was that Cindy shouldn’t have time to talk to the woman.  If she lingered
too long, Anna would know that she had engaged her.  It didn’t matter to
Cindy.  It wasn’t as though this woman could get her out of here or that she
truly had anything that Cindy desired.  There was no reason to have a
conversation.

Cindy walked
to the door of the quest room and pushed it open, revealing a rather stark room
with a bed and bureau, but there was a blazing fire within, which should have
been good enough for a soaked traveler.

“Here’s your
room, ma’am,” she said. “Rest well.”

Amanda smiled
at the servant girl with warmness.

“You are
Cindy?” she asked.

A cold shock
ran through her, freezing her in her tracks.  Cindy looked on at the woman with
a curious look.  The woman began to laugh.

“What is it,
dear?  You look as though you’ve seen a ghost!”

The maid shook
her head slowly. “Strange,” she said. “Do I know you?”

“Perhaps you
do,” said Amanda. “I know
you
, Cindy Madison.”

The girl
stared back with wide eyes.  How could she…?

“Tell no one
of this.  Tomorrow we will speak,” the woman said simply and stepped into the
room, disappearing into the darkness.

Cindy closed the
door after her, unsure of who the woman was, yet she'd felt much familiarity
there.  Cindy had felt it as soon as she opened the door to the woman.  The
question was: why did she feel this way?

Cindy knew no
one, and no one was supposed to know she existed.  What was this woman's game?

3

In the deep
night after the storm had settled, Christian lit a cigarette and started to walk. 
He thought the night was pleasant with the cool, clean feeling of the air, even
if his shoes were splashing through mud.  No one had seen him leave, and no one
knew where he was going.  He did.  He was going up the hill.

Isabella had
offered herself to him, and he was going to take her – at least, that was his
intention.  He could never be quite certain of what he would decide once he got
there, fickle as he was.  Still, the thought of making her bleed and cry – of
ruining
her – brought him a certain sadistic pleasure.  But it was also curiosity that
was pulling him closer toward that house with each passing step.

He felt an
old familiarity here, like coming home after a very long time, though he knew
it was nothing like that.  How could it have been?  He’d only been up this hill
a few times in his life and he had little connection with it.

Christian
stood before the front stoop where he’d stood three years before, tossing his
cigarette and then letting his eyes drift around the corner of the house.  The
path to the legendary drop-off had been planted up with shrubs as if there had
never been a road there.  He knew differently.  The place that road had led to
was where he had met -

Her.

He
remembered her face even now, years later.  He wondered if it had changed
much.  His had.  He was certain hers had as well.  It must have been beautiful.

The sound of
a cawing bird broke his thoughts, and he looked to an eave of the house to see
two large crows sitting there, staring down at him as if expecting to see what
he would do.  He remembered where he was then, and he remembered why he was
here.  He began to think warm, wet thoughts as he passed from the front stoop
and toward whichever door would lead him into the kitchen. 

He found the
door past a small garden, and a twist of the knob revealed it to be unlocked,
as she'd promised.  He pushed open the silent door and let himself into the
house.  It was quiet and dark inside, but he found the back stairs easily
enough.  He passed up them and onto the second floor, squeaking only slightly
every few steps. 

The hallway
was empty and quiet.  Before him was a door that was ajar.  He reached out to
grip the handle. 

A voice
behind him stopped him.

“You
shouldn’t have come here for this
.”   

It was only
a whisper drifting past his ear, slow and distant, but it turned him around. 
He saw a thin figure dressed in white treading up the stairs.  It was a woman,
but he only saw the bottom of her gown as she vanished on the next floor.

Was it
Isabella?  Could she have possibly been making this fun for him?  He hadn’t
thought she had it in her to be creative.  A smile touched his lips as a tingle
of excitement ran through him.  He followed the woman quietly up the stairs.

Christian
followed past the third floor to get to the forth – the loft space – and when
he stepped off the stairs, he found that there was only one room here.  He saw
the woman dressed in white walk slowly away from him and into the room, but he
knew now that it was not Isabella.  The woman he saw had long, black hair
trailing down her back.