Young Writers Society

Thanks to all you faithful followers of this fatefully fanatic tale! I know it mayn't look like I've taken all your advice, but right now, I'm rather more writing than editing. All your compliments, suggestions, and criticisms have been taken into account! Thank you for them, and please keep in mind that this is only loosely following the fairytale, Cinderella. Loosely. Very loosely. Ahem! Yes, and I hope you enjoy chapter four! ; )

The bitterness of that day was like a slow poison to me – I kept my left hand, the one with his ring on it, tucked behind me where neither Chelsea nor my mother could see it, on the ride home. I knew they would notice it if I kept it on, but I had no intention of doing anything but tossing the horrid little thing in a chamber pot somewhere, the moment we arrived home.

“Oh, Chelsea, it is so beautiful! Genuine sapphires, you say?” Mother was just as enthusiastic – if not more so – as Chelsea about her betrothal. I hoped she would be as happy when she found out about Duke Warrington, no matter how the news reached her. Disposing of the ring, I realized sadly, would not dispose of the duke himself.

“Come back down for tea when you’ve changed, won’t you, dear?” Mother said to me as I made my way up the stairs.

“Y-yes, Mother. It shan’t take me long, I’ll be down in just a moment.” I nearly tripped over one of the red-carpeted steps at that point, in such a hurry was I to escape to my bedchamber.

However, when I had finally escaped to the deepest reaches of my rooms, I began to wish I’d never left the carriage with Duke Warrington. I tugged at the ring, wet and oiled my finger in turn to get it off, but all three attempts came to naught. It, quite simply, would not release its hold on my finger.

With a moan of defeat, I slumped onto my bed. Father had known how much I loved blue, for I had told him so the moment I moved from the cradle in my parent’s chambers to the space I occupied now. Everything around me, from the wallpaper to the rug and carpets, even to the coverlets and pillows of the bed, was blue. Blue, or, if I couldn’t get it, a dark wood I always forgot the name of.

I finally succumbed to my curiosity, studying the ring closely at last. It was a thin silver wire, twisted ‘round a gold one, to form a circular band. On the front, facing up towards me, there was a ruby, with the length and breadth of the top of a thimble. In the very center of that bloodred stone, was a minute diamond, melded together with the ruby so well, I could see neither crack nor seam.

As I examined and – grudgingly – admired the beautiful little object, I almost began to ask, Why me? Why did the sickeningly wealthy Duke Warrington want to marry me? But I stopped myself, for I already knew why. My father was the second most powerful man in all of Ape’erafer, as I had once told Prince Kharles. He was King Manfred’s closest advisor in all things, not to mention almost as rich as the duke himself. Marrying the eldest daughter of such a man was a wise move, and Duke Warrington knew it. Hadn’t I been readied for this? For marrying a man who would love me no more than I would love him – that is to say, not at all.

Yes. And I am rather fortunate he isn’t old, balding, and quite portly, I told myself. Somewhere deep in my heart and mind, I had always wanted more than a safe little marriage to some nobleman. Somehow, hiding in the darkest depths of my soul, there hid a little girl, always waiting for her true love, her handsome knight to come and sweep her away, carry her off to adventure and a happy ending.

But that knight would never come. Tears rolled silently down my cheeks, and I fought to think of things besides my husband-to-be as I changed from my stiff dress into something slightly more comfortable. If only I had been born as Chelsea, as the one who grew and matured with her betroth merely waiting to swoop in and propose. And I’d had just that, until Princess Eloise danced gracefully into my future. Why couldn’t she have married Duke Warrington, and left Kharles to me? I knew that no matter how many times I relived his sinful kiss, some part of me would still love His Highness – and there wasn’t anything to prevent that. Could I learn to love another? No, said a cruel voice in my head, and I felt for all the world as if it were right.

“Milady, do you require me to help you into your evening dress?” squeaked Liza, knocking timidly at the door. I smiled, hastily brushing to tears from my face. I would have to tell Chelsea and Mother sometime, and if I did not, Father surely would. I rather wanted to be the one to inform them, to break the news as gently as I could.

“That’s quite all right, Liza, I’ve managed it myself.” I smoothed out the peach-colored dress, simple as most of my gowns were. The mirror, once looked into, informed me that my face was mostly dry, and the little bit of red still clinging to my nose and cheeks could be allotted to excitement before sadness. I let my hair fall from its messy bun, tying it back with a ribbon before meeting Liza in the hall.

“Where are we having tea today, Liza?” I asked, relieved there was no tremor to my voice. She led me down the stairs, and past the kitchen and dining room, into Mother’s plush little sitting room. Chelsea was already there, dressed in trailing silk gown. She looked just as beautiful as ever in her deep purple dress, with those little white ruffles clinging to the long sleeves. I smiled first at her, and then Mother, still with my ring-fingered hand behind my back.

“Mother, before we speak of lighter things, I have s-something to tell you,” I said, seating myself beside Chelsea. Trying to mimic something like elegant calm, I draped one hand over the arm of the sofa, leaning back against the soft cushions. “Father h-has offered my hand in marriage to someone.” It tumbled out in the most disgraceful way, and I was sure for a moment that Chelsea would gasp, or shoot me a reproving glare.

She did neither, but turned immediately to stare at me, round eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, Delle! Who is it?”

Mother looked as stiff and ladylike as ever, but for a moment, I thought I saw something like pride flit across her face. Proud, because I do not seem to mind being betrothed so soon after Kharles’s wedding, I thought.

“Father, King Manfred, and – and Duke Warrington of Jharrim were speaking of the war, early this morn. Father knew, I believe, that Prince Kharles was n-no longer an option, and told His Excellency such. Th-they decided that the best, most peaceful tie to prevent war between Ape’erafer and Jharrim would be marriage. Who else to offer but the Grand Count’s eldest daughter?” I said, and couldn’t prevent the bitterness that stung my words.

“But this is wonderful, Mariadelle! I was concerned after – well, the prince’s wedding, that ‘twould be heard to find you a suitable husband, but look how the gods bless us! Duke Warrington of Jharrim, royalty itself!” Mother exclaimed, eyes shining with thoughts of the future.

“And, remember, Sea, when that man came up and asked for a word with me?” I looked to Chelsea, and she nodded, eyes still as wide as dinner plates.

“Yes, of course! Was that he, was that Duke Warrington? He was so very handsome, Delle,” giggled Chelsea, and I looked quickly at my hands, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. He had been rather handsome, once I put thoughts of dislike aside. Besides, it wasn’t like me to so ungrateful…

“Yes, that was he. He had come to tell me about the – the betrothal, and before we parted, he gave me this.”

There were gasps of admiration as both my mother and sister examined the ring. “That must be terribly expensive,” breathed Mother, stroking the pea-sized ruby. “What else did he say, other than news of the arrangement?”

I smiled ever so slightly at the looks of amazement on both of their faces, but the expression faded as I remembered what he’d said.

Your father was most enthusiastic – it could prevent the war! Not that I wouldn’t be slightly disappointed at that, but you, I’m sure, could distract me from my woeful emotions... I remembered him saying, and with that dreadful grin tugging at his lips. My stomach turned over, and I felt, with horrible suddenness, as if I were trapped.

The remainder of the day I spent imagining daring escapes, clever ways to worm my way out of marrying the duke. Every time the voice of reason began to speak up in my mind, I thought of that smile, the distraction he was expecting me to be, and the voice quieted. Throughout tea, embroidery, and supper, I fantasized a world where one didn’t have to marry if one didn’t want to, a world where no such people like Duke Warrington existed.

Father wasn’t home until long after supper, looking less exhausted and more bright-eyed, like Mother. He, I realized, must be just as happy about the arranged marriage as the rest of the household. Before I retired to bed, as Liza was stoking the fire and helping me into my nightdress, she could talk of nothing but the wedding – or, weddings – of the two Tadstreet girls, Chelsea and I.

“What did he look like, milady?” she finally asked, after wearing out the subject of what my wedding dress should be made of. I blinked once, twice, trying to tear myself from the depths of my newfound fantasy world, and turned to smile feebly at her.

“He was foreigner, from the coal-black hair atop his head, to the very tips of his toes. He had dark skin, rather like chocolate, and deep brown eyes, that danced and twinkled when he laughed,” I murmured, and I heard her sigh longingly behind me. “Perhaps he will visit soon, and you’ll see for yourself how handsome he is. Good night, Liza.”

Liza curtsied, backing quickly from the room. “Good night, milady.”

The next few days were spent in premature preparations for Chelsea’s wedding, mostly with Chelsea sitting in an armchair by the fire and embroidering her name and Jarald’s upon various bits of fabrics, or helping Mother sketch different prospective gowns. I spent my days shut up in my rooms, or wandering through the gardens and trying not to cry at the thought of Duke Warrington.

At last, a week after I’d gotten the ring forced onto my finger by my husband-to-be, news of the duke arrived.

“Monsieur Kellith, Madame Arasiel, Mademoiselles Mariadelle and Chelsea, I have a message from Duke Percival de Torre Warrington. He wishes to, ‘drop in for a spot of tea,’ if the inhabitants of the Grand Count’s manor have no other plans,” announced the messenger, still catching his breath from the long journey.

“He is invited to our manor at any time, with open arms!” Father boomed, mustache quivering slightly. His ruddy red cheeks seemed to be the only thing I had not inherited, thankfully. I often wondered how a man so thin and, some said, short, could manage to possess such a very loud voice.

“Then he shall be here this afternoon, in time for two o’clock tea,” said the messenger, in somewhat quieter tones, and was gone from the sitting room before any could say another word.

“I – I should prepare myself,” I said calmly, and I strode purposefully up the stairs to my rooms.

My calm did not last anywhere beyond my bedchamber’s door. I flung myself onto the sofa, and I wept. Every time my eyes closed, I heard his voice, saw his greedy smile. Was I embellishing upon a simple truth, or was he as horrible as I imagined? By the time I found out, I’d be safely married, and there would be no going back. Hours could have passed between the time I went up from the sitting room, or perhaps merely minutes, but when the answer finally came to me, it came in an unexpected flash.

I would have to run.

No, said the lady, the sensible side of me, No, you shouldn’t run. Marry him, just as Mother married Father: not because she wanted to, but because she was told to. But what was right?

I comforted myself with the idea that, perchance, he had only seemed like a bad man – that I was being… silly, overdramatic. Fixing the thought in my mind, I stifled my fear and stood, knowing I would have to face him soon, and when I did, I might just learn something of his true nature.

“Liza! Come here!”

Liza came stumbling in, her familiar smile exceptionally bright at the prospect of an unexpected visitor. “Will you bring me down with you, milady, when he arrives? Oh, such short notice, he must be dashingly romantic,” she squealed, and I shot her an I-do-not-want-to-talk-about-it look. “Sorry, milady. I just—”

“I understand, Liza. I’ll take you down with me, if you stop that infernal squeaking,” I said, and heard her giggle as she searched for a suitable dress in my bureau.

“How about this one, milady? It’s just the color of your eyes.” She held up a flower-embroidered gown, and it did remind me of my – and I flinched at the description, considering the prince had said it first – ocean-colored eyes. After a moment’s deliberation, I nodded, and Liza helped me switch dresses.

A half-hour later, I stood before the full-body mirror beside my bed, while Liza fastened a thin silver rope ‘round my neck. I look critically up and down the bell-skirted dress, and asked Liza to tighten the gray silk ribbon that was tied around my waist three times before I was satisfied with it. Why did I want to impress the duke? Perhaps because the day I’d met him, my hair had fallen away from its clips, long and tangled, my face flushed from crying, and I didn’t mean to make such a disgraceful appearance again.

“That will do, Liza. Do go and tell Mother I’ll be down in just a moment,” I said, and waited until I heard the door shut softly behind me before rushing over to my dark-wooded desk. I tugged one last time at the silver-and-gold ring, pulled and yanked at it until there was a distinct band of raw red skin ‘round Duke Warrington’s gift, but the ring itself stayed tight upon my finger.

I walked slowly to the door, drawing out every step until my hand was resting on the silver knob. One deep breath and twenty steps later, I descended the last red-carpeted stair into the front hall. Everything that normally looked so home-like, so comfortable, seemed unfamiliar, from the long green rug leading to the huge oak doors, to the little table with Mother’s freshest roses resting in their little white vase.

The sitting room door was opened so I could just see a sliver of the open window beyond, shining in to cast what I always imagined as a warm, soft glow upon the tables and chair, sofas and the empty brick hearth of Mother’s favorite space. I listened hard, trying to place those inside and where they sat – eavesdropping seemed to be becoming a habit, and I was not sure if I should be ashamed of it.

“I’m sorry Mariadelle hasn’t come downstairs yet, Your Excellency. She is always so very punctual, I can’t imagine what’s keeping her!” Mother said, and my heart seemed to stop as another voice replied; one I knew, and all too well.

“Quite all right, I can assure you, Madame Tadstreet. I’ve found she has, ah, an aversion to royalty, since that nasty business with Prince Kharles.” Duke Warrington chuckled, and I could just imagine that knowing little smile on his face.

“I know what you mean – what I still can’t understand is why she never met us at the wedding! At first I thought she must have found someone else to sit with, but then I didn’t see her at the banquet either. Did you, Chelsea?”

But before anyone could say another word, I tentatively nudged the door open, putting one, and then the other foot firmly inside so I couldn’t turn around and back out again. I looked first at the duke, in his spotless evergreen breeches and loose white undershirt, sleeves tightened slightly at the wrists by gold buttons. He wore a vest the color of his breeches over the shirt, and I remembered vaguely seeing his black traveling cloak hanging on one of the hooks by the front door. His face was suddenly alight with that secretive smile, as though he thought I was the only other to see it, and wanted to remind me of where I stood, in his eyes.

“Your Excellency,” I said quietly, curtsying before I seated myself beside Mother.

“Milady, have you been keeping well?” he asked, and I nodded once. “And where is the other Tadstreet girl; Mademoiselle Chelsea?”

“She had an engagement with Sir Matheson, and sends her greetings and apologies,” Father said in his deep bass voice, with that gracious smile he wore so often.

There was the slightest pause, and then I heard Mother make the tiniest gasp from where she sat on my right, snatching up my hand from its resting place. “Dear, whatever happened to your hand?” she said.

I glanced up, and saw the expression on the duke’s face change from one of curiosity to coy realization. A smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth, and he turned to ask Father, “What did you say about His Majesty, before Mademoiselle Mariadelle arrived?”

Father frowned for a moment, trying to remember, and then laughed, bouncing up as though he weighed naught. “It completely slipped my mind! I must go, ladies and sir – the king wishes updates on… a certain happening.” His bright eyes flitted from me to the duke, and back, and then he was out the door before we could ask any more about it.

“And you, Your Excellency, how have you fared since our – our last meeting?” I only stumbled once, when I remembered the circumstances of the last time I had seen him; he didn’t miss the stutter, from the way his lips twitched upwards.

“Oh, quite well. Missing our enlightening conversations, of course, but otherwise, things have been going smoothly.”

Mother opened her mouth, but I never found out what she planned to say, for her lady-in-waiting came in at that moment, and said in a rush, “The milkman has arrived, but for some reason he won’t give us a single ounce without being paid by the Grand Countess herself, he says. Will you see to him, Madame?””

“I’ll come with you, Emmaline. I’m so sorry for the interruption, Your Excellency,” she said to Duke Warrington, but he waved away the worry in her voice with a graceful flutter of his hand and a simple nod of his head. Mother followed Emmaline out the sitting room door without further hesitation, still murmuring her apologies.

The duke stood, and stepped around the table to help me rise. “Would you fancy a walk in the garden while Madame Tadstreet is occupied, milady?”

“If ‘tis your wish, milord,” I said, smiling with a demure flutter of my eyelashes.

“Ah, obedience, the crowning jewel of the good wife,” he said, linking my arm through his as we proceeded out the backdoor, into the gardens beyond. We strolled in silence for some minutes before he seemed to find the place he’d been looking for: a small wooden bench beside my favorite little fountain.

He stepped away from me, taking up my left hand and studying the finger on which clung his ring. “It won’t come off, you know,” he said quietly, looking up into my eyes. “It just so happens to be enchanted – the owner, and no other, has the power to take it off.”

I stared at him in disbelief, stared into those deep, almost depthless brown eyes, mouthing words I couldn’t quite give voice to.

“Watch,” he said. Gently, carefully, he set thumb and forefinger atop and under the ring, and slid it off with ease that set my heart into a strange and uneven beat. “I should have told you before, but I rather wanted you to find it out for yourself. You won’t try to take it off again, will you?”

It wasn’t, I knew immediately, a request. He brought my hand up, level with his lips, and kissed it softly. After the slightest pause, the ugly red rash that had formed around my finger faded, and he slipped the ring back onto it.

“Th-thank you, milord.” I couldn’t find anything else to say, so I turned to walk back towards the manor. He caught my wrist before I could take a single step, pulling me back so suddenly I fell against him.

“I think I would kiss you, milady, but perhaps you’ve had enough excitement for today,” he said, both arms encircling my waist so as to keep me close.

I don’t know why I did it – I didn’t love him, I wasn’t the slightest bit drawn to him, and in the end, I allotted it to my determination to prove him wrong in every respect, but I could never forget what I did after he said that. Standing up on my tiptoes, I threw my arms around his neck, and kissed him.

And then I fainted.

Strange, strange, but then she never was a normal girl. You will review, won't you?