Cinderela, Part 5

The night’s air was cool and crisp, and smelled of green shrubbery, flowers, and that indefinable smell of night. The trees and houses and wooden street signs rode by me, and cool air leaked from the windows. The moon was still rising, and its full-fledged glory was spread across the sky, a little ways from the horizon.

In moments, we were at the castle, a great stone figure hovering above me, melting into the darkness that surrounded it. Lights and music were coming from inside, and a man stepped up to my carriage, offering me a hand out of the carriage. I accepted, and stepped down from the seat, my skirts spilling onto the ground as I did so. “You look very good this evening, my lady,” he said, bowing.

“Thank you, kind sir. I hope you are doing well?” I smiled at him, who waited out here in the wonderful night while lights and dancing and noise were on the inside.

“I do, lady. Would you like to be escorted into the ball?” He smiled back at me.

I looked up to the castle door, so very far from here. “I think I am able to make it up all of these steps, though I thank you.”

“Very good, milady.” And he moved on to the next carriage arriving.

At the top of the steps, I paused a moment before walking in. I wanted to remember this for my entire life, the beauty of the night, the sense that something magical would happen in here, my first ball. You say first ball as though it will not be the last, said a part of me. To that, I had no answer.

I stepped through the enormous, double oak doors, and curtsied to the door man. He bowed back, smiling at me. I walked to the platform that served as a sort of balcony to the floor below.

Men and women danced in a great, flourishing, colorful pattern. The dresses were ruffled, straight, lacy, anything that you could ever imagine a dress being. They were pink, blue, yellow, green, turquoise, silver and white. I appeared to be the only one in red at the ball, though.

That fact made me uncomfortable as I walked down the great marble steps that lead to the dance floor. A musician group was playing a lively dance, one I vaguely knew, and could probably dance to. There was a table filled with food, and many people stood around it or sat in the many groupings of chairs, talking as they nibbled on small treats.

The dance ended, and it seemed as if, suddenly, everyone was looking at me as I descended the staircase. The men mostly had approving looks, while many of the woman looked at me in a way that could only be described as hostile. It really didn’t make sense. They would probably go to so many balls in their lifetime, and this was likely to be my only one, and they looked at me like that. I wasn’t really that much prettier than the other ladies, was I? I certainly didn’t think so.

I came to the bottom of the stairs just as a dance started. Three men asked me to dance, and I picked the one who looked as if he might not have the most money of the three, and probably didn’t get many dances because of it.

We started the dance, and he took my hand. “Do you live here, in the town?”

Ummm . . . “I live a little ways out of the center of town, though I do not often come to such social events.”

“I would say. I have never seen you here before.” He twirled me around so I was now on his left side, and we continued the small talk until the dance was done.

Once it was finished, I excused myself from him, and turned down the other offers to dance. I searched the crowd to find the one person I was really here for: Aubrey.

I was walking towards the table with finger treats on them when a hand was on my shoulder. I turned quickly, and saw Aubrey. “Aubrey!” I exclaimed.

He stared at me, then cocked his head to the side. “Ela?” he asked slowly.

“Yes.” I smiled at him. “I was looking for you.”

He grinned happily. “And I thought this ball would be pointless and boring. Would you like to dance?” He held his arm out to me.

“Of course I would.” I took his arm and he led me to the dance floor as the next song started, La Manfredina, a slow, but joyful tune. The musicians were playing a fiddle and a lute.

We started the slow, intricate steps as he asked, “Ela, what are you doing here?”

I smiled. “Why, I came to see you. Why else would I come to a ball?”

He looked slightly confused, but also a little happy. I took it as a good sign. “But, are you not a servant?”

I nodded. “Yes, I am, but I figured that no one else would know, and you probably would not throw me out, so it was safe to come.”

He looked down at me, then all the way up once more. “They most certainly would not, and I would never turn you away.”

I smiled as he curled me into him, so I was between his arms. He swung me out, gently, again, and said, “I like your shoes.”

I looked down. The red tips were just visible. I lifted my skirt. The rest of the shoe, black, was revealed. “Thank you.”

He was dressed in a nice, but not extravagant, dark red almost black top which framed his face so well, and black dress breeches. The black was an endless, deep black that I would have to looked all day in to really see it. Of course, I would have looked at him forever. But it was still nice to know I was not the only one who wore black and red to the ball.

I saw him look over my head for a moment, then his eyes returned to me. Easily and gracefully, he started to lead me, still in time and step to the dance, away from the crowd. “What are you doing?” I asked.

He grinned at me. “Don’t you think it’s a bit warm in here, Ela? How would you like to go into the rose garden for some fresh air?”

I grinned in return. “I would love to.”

We danced out into the courtyard, which was filled with all of the late fall flowers I could imagine, and many I had never seen before. When the song ended while we were out in the courtyard, he took my hand and tugged me through a path that was guarded by shrubberies. He brought be into the most beautiful roses I have ever seen, bright red, the darkest red I’d ever seen, black, pink, white, and peach.

He pulled me onto a black marble bench, which almost seemed to appear in the night. We watched the moon, which was just visible coming over the trees in the courtyard, and hung over the castle. The silver moonlight pooled on the roses, outlining every curve and bend in their stalks, every swerve in their petals.

“Ela,” he said. I looked at him. “You are more beautiful than anything I have ever seen,” he whispered.

I stared at him, then shook my head. “But I am a servant. How can I be the most beautiful thing you have ever seen when you live in such beauty as this–” I gestured to the courtyard around me “–every day of your life?”

He laughed, and it was harsh. “You think this world is beautiful? Always having someone tell you how to act, what to say, who to be. It isn’t beautiful at all–it’s monsterous.”

“I don’t under–“ I was cut off by a deep, masculine voice.

“Aubrey, come here for a moment.” I looked to the speaker, and it was a portly man, with a small mustache, and a belt made from gold chain.

Aubrey stood, and sauntered to the man. They started talking in hushed voices, and the only words I could pick out was ‘guests’ and ‘one more dance.’

The man left, and Aubrey stood there for a moment, then came back to me. “Ela, my father commands that I dance with other girls, but may I have one last dance inside?”

I smiled, and although it was a little sad, it seemed to brighten him. “Of course. Another family obligation, I see.”

He smiled back, and it was a bit tense. “Yes.”

We walked back inside, just in time for the Galliard, a fast-paced, fun, and moving dance that was difficult, but fun to try, in high heels. Once it was done, he turned to leave me, but decided against it and swerved back. “Ela–is that short for something?”

I started to answer no, but a voice behind me beat me to it. “Why yes, yes, it is. It’s short for Cinderela, who is nothing but a maid in my household.”

I turned toward the voice slowly, as though if I did it slower, it would all disappear, and she would not be here. But she was. The duchess.

She looked back at the prince. “Could you leave us for a few moments? We need to talk something over.” She curtsied to him.

He looked hesitant, his eyes lingering in mine, but finally he bowed, and retreated.

The duchess circled around me, as a shark would a bleeding fish. She could tell a when a wound could be easily opened. “So, how did it feel to dance with the prince, Ela? How did it feel to dance with one that you know you will never know beyond a dance?”

“The . . .prince?” My heart crumbled, and somehow the feeling felt devastatingly familiar. The prince, who had never told me; who, she was right, I could never be with, because he would have to marry a gentle lady, and that I was not. Nothing but a wretched servant. Maybe all those men were right when they just ignored me, that I was just a hopeless, not-worth-a-penny servant.

She leaned closer to me. “I knew I recognized you from the start.” Her voice was low, and dangerous. “You lied when you said you had worked in my household for many years, didn’t you? You have been there your whole life, haven’t you? And you saw that day, when your darling father was pushed from the window, didn’t you?” She grabbed me and shook me, and raised her voice. “Didn’t you, you wretched girl? You saw it. I know you figured it out. You knew from the day it happened. I could see it in your eyes.”

“I–“

”Do not speak to me, girl I know you saw, do not deny it. But I have one question.” Her voice dropped. “Why did you not tell? Why did you not tell when you saw me push him from the window, when you knew that you father was dead because of me. WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL?”

“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no.”
{i)
I turned the corner of the road leading to our four-story house. On the third floor a window was open; the lacy drapes flapped outside in the storm-wind. I frowned. My stepmother would never have allowed this to happen.

There was something else in between the lace. I squinted, and saw the beginnings of someone’s arm. Slowly more and more of the person came, and I saw a man leaning out, checking something above him. From behind, a scarlet brocade robe holding a hand leaned on his back. And pushed.

“No!” I screamed.

And I recognized him, my father.

“No!” I cried, beating at her hands that held my arms, tears running down my face. “No,” I sobbed.

Memories raced through me, of warmth, or comfort, of my father. “No,” I whispered, tears streaking down my face and falling onto my perfect dress. “Why? Why?” I screamed.

I tore away from her and ran blindly up the long staircase. I tripped and fell on the stairs, but flew up and started running again.

“Ela!” I heard Aubrey yell out behind me.

“Leave me alone!” I screamed at him. I ran out the double doors that had seemed so magnificent on my way in, and now seemed to lead to impending darkness. The moon which had cast such a beautiful silver glow, now seemed just another ugly light in the sky.

I ran to a carriage that I thought might have been mine, from the round shape. “Milady, milady! You dropped your shoe!” called the irritating servant at the great stairwell.

“Keep it! Keep everything!” I screamed at him, jumping into the carriage. “Go!” I told the driver.

I rocked in my seat. The prince, damn it, the prince was Aubrey. The man I loved. And now, the man I always had loved, my father, my only parent for so long, died at the hands of the duchess. At the hands of my supposed stepmother. The murderer.

“MURDERER!” I screamed into the harsh night. “SHE IS A MURDERER! THAT’S ALL SHE IS! A MURDERER!”

My eyes were overflowing when the carriage stopped at the house, and stumbled onto the front steps, weeping. I staggered up to the door, and dropped myself into the hall, laying flat on the ground, my face drooping onto my arms, soaking the carefully made dress.

A murderer. How could she? My father, my beloved father–how could she kill him? He had never done a single wrong thing in his entire life, except perhaps marry that dreadful woman, who would never afford love for our little family. He had married the woman who had ruined my life, and ended his–a sudden ending, probably he was not even able to finish his last novel.

A prince. How could he? How could he not tell me who, no, what he was, to keep it secret from me, so as to mislead me. He had seemed so nice, so perfect, but to be so deceiving, when he knew he that he would never want our relationship to go anywhere, for I was just a servant. Marianne was right, there were noblemen who wished to prey on servant girls.

“Honey-dear, what is it?” Marianne bustled down the hall. “What could be wrong? I thought this was going to be your perfect night . . .”

I was weeping convulsively, shattering breaths in my lungs, the impact driving the fragments of my heart into me. “He was . . . the prince.”

“Oh, dear,” she sat down, picked me up and set me in her lap, as though I were a small child needing to be consoled. “Tell me everything.”

“He . . . never said . . . anything.” I whimpered her the rest of my night. “And . . . my father’s dead.” My back wracked with sobs. “He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead.”

Marianne gasped. “Your memory came back?”

“I wish it never did. I don’t want all this pain.”

“But . . . how?”

“The duchess made it come back. I hate her. I hate her, I HATE HER!” I screamed, which only led to more tears. “She’s a murderer, a murderer. She killed my father, and I saw her do it. I saw her do it.”

I collapsed in her lap, out of tears, and tired of crying, tired of living.


“Where is she?” He yelled at the woman. “Where can I find Ela?”

The mistress of his Ela shook her head. “I am sorry your highness, but I do not know. I have no idea where she works.”

He grabbed her arms. “You lie! You told me she worked in your household, you scum! Tell me where she is, you–“

”Aubrey, that will be quite enough.” His father came into the circle, and he let the woman go. “Gentle woman, I believe you owe my son an answer. Where can he find this girl of his?”

“It won’t make any difference. She’s just a servant. But you can find her at the end of the road.”

“Thank you.” He pushed through the crowd, and was to the door just as the doorman came through. “Your Highness, a lady left her shoe–“

It was Ela’s, a tall, black shoe with a red toe. “I’ll take it. Can you drive me?” he asked, while grabbing the shoe from the doorman's hands. “She lives at the end of the road, and I need to see her.”

“Of course, sir.” Aubrey sprinted down the steps, and stepped into the first carriage there. The doorman followed closely behind him, and sent the horses off at a fast trot. “Faster!”

They went at a gallop.


"What happened? Who's Ela?" the people at the ball asked.

"I...I do not know," proclaimed the duchess. "Come, let us get back to dancing."

"No. No, I know who you are," said one man at the front. "You said you lived at the end of the road, right? In the house where the duke used to live? I remember you. You married him some years ago. After you married him, he said he couldn't come and play cards with us anymore."

"I..." the duchess stood, unable to defend herself.

"You married him right before he fell out of that window. And what was that girl saying about a murderer?"

"I...I didn't do it!" the duchess screamed, as the townspeople descended upon her, with the king at the lead.


Marianne was helping me out of my dress. “Dear, I’m sorry your night went so badly. I was truly hoping it would go well, and I could tell you that you were a duchess, and you could marry the man–“

”But I can’t marry him. I’m just a servant, Marianne, and, regardless of how you dress a servant up in fancy clothing and titles, they are still a servant.” The tears had left me and now all I had was a cold, emptiness inside of me.

“Dear, that’s not true. You are still a duchess, regardless of the clothes we put on you for the years that you lost your memory. You were born a duchess, and you will always be a duchess.”

“I have been a duchess once, but I am no longer, and I haven’t been for eight years. I am a servant, and that’s all I’ll ever be.” I put on my regular ragged servant attire, and that ended the conversation.

Iisha came to the door. “Ela, there is a man at the door for you.”

Marianne walked to the door, but I stayed put. She turned around. “You may stay here, fine, but think on this: your name is Meladria.”

She left the door open, maybe to entice me to come out, but nothing could make me come out at this moment. Meladria. As far as I was concerned, it was just another name they were trying to dress me up in. It wasn’t mine, not truly, and it felt as though it never was.


Aubrey paced in the hall, and when the servant girl came back, he jumped. “Where is she, my Ela?” he asked anxiously, wiping his hands down his shirt.

The girl shrugged. “I told them you were here, but I don’t think she’s going to come. She’s spent the last hour crying for some reason.” She peered at me. “Are you that reason?”

He shook my head. “I’m afraid I may be.”

Another woman came down the hall. “My name is Marianne. I have taken care of Mel since her mother died the day after she was born.”

“Mel?” he asked delicately.

Marianne nodded. “Her true full name is Meladria.”

“Meladria.” He bit my lip. Perhaps she did not want him to know her name, much as he had not told her he was the prince. “Marianne, is she well? Why was she screaming about a murderer at the ball? Has something happened?”

Marianne shook her head. “Your highness–“

”Please call me Aubrey.”

“Aubrey, when Mela was eight, her father died after falling out of a window while leaning out during a storm. She swore to me that she saw the duchess, his new bride, do it, and she was right. I tried to make her to leave with me, because the duchess wanted her dead as well, but she did not consent, and instead ran to the garden in the rain, and fell on the marble, and hit her head. She was never able to remember a thing . . . until tonight.”

A wash of sadness shattered through him. “Poor Ela. So it is as if her father has died all over again, is it not?” Marianne nodded. “I must go to her. Take me to her, please.”

“I am not sure that she will talk to you, but I will take you.”


I paced around the tiny room, looking at my perfect dress, lying on the floor where it had slipped down from the chair. You could not truly make a servant a noble with just a name, could you? No, most certainly not. A name meant nothing. Then, if that were true, then why would the name prince mean anything to anyone? But it did, didn’t it? And if that was so, then would the name Meladria mean anything at all, anything other than a name that was long ago extinguished by me?

I shook my head and sat on a chair. There was a soft knock on the open door, and Marianne and the Prince entered. He walked towards me, one arm outstretched. “Ela . . . I am sorry about your father. Please. I’m sorry about not telling you that I was a prince. Please forgive me, please. I do not think I could stand it if you did not.”

I looked away from him, the perfect image of forgivingness. “I forgive you, though I do not see how it will change anything.” I turned away from him.

He knelt in front of me. “Meladria–“

”That is not my name.” I put my hands over my ears.

He gently took my hands off of my ears. “Yes, it is, and it is the most beautiful name I have ever heard.” He softly let go of my hands, so they were back in my lap.

“There is nothing more for us. You are a prince, and I am a servant.”

He tilted up my chin, and met my eyes. “Meladria, I want you to look at me and answer this one question: do you love me?”

I tried to look down, away, but he held me by my chin. “Please, Meladria, just this one question, and if the answer is no, I will not bother you again.”

I looked back at him, and whispered, “Yes.”

He laughed, grabbed my arms tightly, and gently kissed my face. “Marry me,” he whispered. I pulled away.

Hot salted rivers ran down my face, and I buried it in my hands. “You can’t want to marry me. I have been a servant for years. You can’t marry a servant.”

He held out my shoe, in its beautiful, glossy black and red self. ”This does not look like the shoe of a servant. Please, please marry me,” he said.

I shook my head. “How can you, a prince, be asking me to marry you?” I said, angrily wiping the tears from my face. “Have you not heard me? Have I not made it clear that I, a humble servant, would do nothing for your wants? That you would grow tired of me as I with the old rag that I have cleaned with?”

A hurt, battered-child look came into his eyes. “Do you really think that of me?” he asked quietly. “Because if you do, I will leave at this moment, just tell me.”

I looked at him, then shook my head. I didn’t truly think he would ever do such a thing. “But I am a servant.”

“Meladria,” he threw his hands up in frustration, “I do not care whether you are a servant, a noblewoman, or a dancing bear, I love you.” He stopped, and stared at me. “Please marry me,” he said softly.

I shook my head. “But what of the kingdom? They would never accept me.”

He smiled slightly. “Meladria, my dear, you are a duchess. The court will never think to look past all of that. They will never think that you are anything other than what you appear to be, which is, beautiful.” He grabbed my hand and kissed it, smiling.

“I do not understand why you want to marry me. Tell me.” I looked at him, tears starting in my eyes, wanting to spill over.

He smiled, gently and amorously. “Because the way your hair shines in the sunlight moves me. Because I can barely breathe when you smile. Because your eyes make me want to tell you all the secrets of the world, so we could share them. Because when your face shows sorrow, all I want is to take it all away, into myself, to save you from it. Because when you laugh, it is as if the sun has risen for the second time that day. Because when you speak, it is as if heaven itself is coming from your words, unto me. Because when you walk, all I can think of is stars, and the moon shining silver on everything, on trees, on snow, on you. When I see you, it is a sunrise every moment of the day. And when you leave, it is as if the sun will never come again. Because rivers, dancers, snow falls, all the beautiful things in the world cannot compare to what I see in you. And because . . . I love you.”

I threw myself around him. “I love you, too,” I whispered into his neck. He pulled back slightly, and the world dissolved into my love’s kiss.