"Honestly, Denise," I scold, "get up. You're a lady of noble blood. Stand up this instant." She obeys, but she's barely letting her altered foot touch the ground. "Let's go put that slipper on and meet the prince. Our family is going to rise today."
I jump down from my stool and wince as the pain of impact shoots up my leg. I grimace, determined not to let Denise see my pain. On my toes, I lead the way through the chateau to the parlor where the Viscount's man is waiting with the glass slipper.
Mother announces our decision, her little voice full of false sweetness. "We have decided that it is not beneath us to participate in this study of the Viscount's. We all three will try on your master's shoe."
Mother rings the parlor bell, summoning Cinderella once again. She has always been a lazy thing, but she's never taken this long to respond to a call.
Mother sits before the Viscount's man and offers him her foot. He gingerly lifts the little shoe from its case and attempts to slide it over Mother's large toes. There's no surprise that it doesn't fit. The slipper goes over her toes, but the back doesn't even reach to her heel. I get my size from her. I'm suddenly very glad she took off so much of my heel.
The man turns to try the slipper on Denise next, but she is shaking so badly I worry she might break the slipper before I get a chance to try it on. "Me first," I say to him before he can kneel down in front of her. "I am older. You must serve me first in this house."
I swear he rolls his eyes at me. Normally I would banish him from my presence for behavior like that, but this is too important. Even though he is only a servant, I can't afford to let him leave without me. Not if it takes away my chances with my Edmond.
The man kneels before me and I position my foot to the best advantage. It's a good thing I thought to cover my legs with red stockings. I can feel the dampness of blood seeping through the bandages. "It's so warm in here," I complain. "Where is Cinderella? Can't she open a window? I'm so hot my feet are perspiring." I give the man a smile as an apology. Hopefully that will keep him from asking about the bandages.
"If you mean your maid, she's gone to wash. She didn't want to get the slipper dirty with what she called the grime of her station. It was very considerate of her. I've handled more dirty and putrid feet today than I ever wish to see again."
My goodness, this man is forward. How dare he speak to me like this. Think of Edmond. I'm going to marry Prince Edmond. I plaster a smile on my face and grit my teeth. "How thoughtful of her. I would like to try the slipper now."
"Of course, my lady."
My foot slips in and the back cups my newly formed heel. It fits. I pray that he doesn't ask me to stand and I'm relieved when he says simply "that's a fit," and takes it off again.
The parlor door opens and Cinderellla enters, carrying our morning tea. Mother glares at her and scolds her for not coming sooner.
"I am sorry, Madame. I washed as quickly as I could. The slipper is so beautiful. I didn't want to soil it with my dirty feet."
"You're pink all over. I can see what you've been up to. You took advantage of this and washed all over. You are a servant in this house, Cinderella, and you will behave like one. You get your weekly washing before we worship and that is it! You remember that or I will throw you out as I should have done years ago." Mother has made that threat so many times now, even Denise has figured out she'll never do it. I can't imagine why, though. Mother hates Cinderella and treats her worse than any of rest of the servants in the household. And yet she's dismissed others, but Cinderella keeps her place. I suppose Mother is still harboring some feelings for the long-gone Sir Eccles and that's what allows Cinderella to stay.
Denise begins to whimper and I turn my attention to her in time to see the shining shoe snug on her foot and hear the man say "Another fit. How interesting."
Behind his back, I motion for Denise to be quiet. If this man suspects at all that we didn't fit that slipper last night, we're done for.
I sweetly place my hand on the man's arm and give him my most radiant smile. "So, I guess that means we go to see the Viscount now? Will you take us there directly or will we stop at other estates to fit more ladies?" I know the answer to this. The only houses around are peasants and servants. Townspeople. That girl was too delicate and refined to be a commoner. No, we will go straight to the Viscount.
He confirms my thoughts almost instantly. "We will go the Viscount of Bellamy." I cannot contain my grin. "After this maiden has tried on the slipper." My grin dissolves into a grimace.
"Of course," I say. "Anything for the Viscount."
She approaches and the man has the gall to ask me to give up my seat to her. To Cinderella. A servant! How dare he? I almost refuse him, but the image of me wearing a crown and seated in a throne next to my dear Prince Edmond calms me. I take a deep breath to steady myself and rise to give the dirty serving girl my seat.
At least she has the decency to look uncomfortable about this situation. She thanks me and sits, pulling off her little, ragged, brown stocking and revealing perfect little pink toes. I have never noticed just how tiny her feet are before now. The man slips the glass slipper onto her foot in one easy movement. It fits perfectly. It fits like it was made for her foot.
This really isn't fair. How can this obnoxious little serving girl fit perfectly into the shoe of a princess? I worry now that there will be many more girls than I had originally expected at the Viscount's home. If Cinderella can go to meet the prince, who else will be there?
Mother comes to my defense at once. "She cannot go. I need her here in my service. You cannot take her."
"I must, Madame. My instructions are to bring every girl who fits the slipper. Serving girl or Lady. I am sorry for any inconvenience." He doesn't look remotely sorry.
Mother doesn't let up. "The Viscount will have to excuse this particular girl. She cannot go." Mother has her hands on Cinderella's arm and is pulling her out of the chair with the slipper still attached to her foot.
He is flustered by this and grabs Cinderella's leg, pulling the shoe and the girl back toward him. Denise laughs at the surprise on Cinderella's face. What a child. This is much too serious. If Cinderella comes, that's one more person who could steal my prince.
The man has managed to slip the shoe from Cinderella's foot, but her has not let go of her. "What makes you think you are more deserving than any other?" he asks Mother. "Others have had servants who fit the shoe and they have all gone to meet the Viscount. Why should this girl not have the same opportunity?"
Mother is frantically trying to drag Cinderella out of the man's reach, but he is too strong for her and he will not relax his grip. Mother is making a fool out of herself and by extension me, and I cannot have that.
"Let her go, Mother," I say. But she doesn't hear me. I yell "let her go!" and Mother drops her to the floor, shocked at my voice. I have never yelled at Mother before. Servants, groomsmen, shopkeepers, yes, but never Mother.
For once I am grateful for Denise. She speaks quietly, but boldly in my defense. "You couldn't hear her. You can do without her for a few hours, Mother. Tom and Sydney will be able to fulfill her duties while she is away. You are doing more harm by refusing to let her come than she can do by coming."
Well, this is a day for firsts. I yell at Mother and Denise speaks wisely. Whatever will happen next?
The man dusts himself off and helps Cinderella to her feet. He gives Cinderella his arm and she takes it, looking like she's afraid that if she lets go, she'll never escape the house. The man nods to Mother, mutters an abrupt and only just polite enough "good day, Madame," and walks to the door with Cinderella. She pauses and looks back into the room at Denise and me. Denise stands and gives Mother the briefest of curtsies before following them out the door.
I am left alone in the parlor with Mother. The look she gives me is whithering, and I am ashamed for my outburst. My eyes drop to the ground and I offer her a deep, respectful curtsy before whispering "I will win Prince Edmond, Mother," and walking out the door after my sister.
No comments:
Post a Comment