Charm (6 page)

‘Don’t forget our arrangement.’ Her fairy godmother stood on the pavement watching her through the open door. ‘It won’t go well for you if you forget.’

‘I won’t forget.’ Cinderella heard the menace in the woman’s words and shivered slightly. ‘And thank you.’

‘One more thing,’ the fairy godmother pushed the door closed. ‘Make sure you leave by midnight at the very latest. Both nights.’

‘Midnight?’ Inside the carriage, Cinderella’s smile fell. ‘But the last dances will barely have started by then. He’ll dance with others. He’ll forget me.’

‘You have a lot to learn about men. Wind him up then leave him wanting.’ She smiled but there was a touch of bitterness in it. ‘That’s where your real power lies.’ She nodded to the driver. ‘Midnight. Don’t forget!’

And then the carriage was moving under her. When Cinderella peered out to the street behind them, the fairy godmother was gone. There were just the faint fireflies of sparkles left in the cold, night air.

T
he temperature was dropping as night took hold, but Cinderella hardly noticed the chill as she stepped down at the entrance to the castle. She could barely breathe with the beauty of it. No wonder her step-mother was so keen to get back into favour at court if it meant visiting here often. She wondered how she could have borne losing it in the first place. Built entirely from white marble, the castle rose up in elegant towers that surrounded the main building, each a different height from the rest, and each with a burning beacon at its tip.

The tales told that in the days of dragons the great beasts would sweep and circle the lights of the castle in their mating rituals before flying to the far mountain to nest. She could believe it. They looked like stars hanging low and smiling down on her sudden good fortune. Tonight it looked as if there were candles burning in every window of every tower for the ball. She ached at the sight of it.

‘At the end of the day, it’s just a house.’

Cinderella realised that, lost in her awe of the castle, she hadn’t let go of the driver’s hand after he’d helped her down. She quickly pulled it away.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she said.

‘Beauty can be over-rated.’ His dark eyes seemed to be mocking her. ‘And it fades.’

Her skin flushed slightly. ‘Well, it will be my beauty that captures the prince,’ she said, defiant. ‘Wait and see.’

He laughed, his weathered face cracking into a grin, and she was surprised at what a warm sound it was.

‘What’s so funny?’ she asked. He unsettled her. She didn’t like it.

‘That you think you’re the hunter this evening.’ He bowed slightly. ‘Now run along inside and prance with all the other pretty little deer and let your shoes do their work. Just be back here by midnight. I’ll be waiting.’

She lifted her chin and glared at him, before turning and making her way up the elegant stairs to the footmen waiting at the door. She didn’t look back. He could laugh at her all he wanted, she didn’t care. He was nobody. Nothing. Who cared what he thought?

By the time she came down the red carpeted stairs into the main ballroom, all thoughts of the rude driver were gone from her head. At one side a champagne fountain flowed over a tower of delicate glasses. Footmen were spaced out at intervals along the walls, their wigs dusted blue to match their jackets. Music played, an elegant waltz, and beyond the sea of young women and the prince’s noble friends, she could see the masked band, all dressed in white and raised high on a glass stage. It was everything she’d imagined and more. She took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and was surprised by how steady her hand was. She’d expected to be more nervous, but with the warmth tingling through her from her shoes she breezed into the room, her head held high. She would be confident and mysterious, just like her fairy godmother.

She sipped her drink, enjoying the bubbles but not so keen on the sharp taste, and scanned the room. It was a sea of colour, each of the noble women in the city wearing the finest dresses their money could afford. Her own silver dress nearly faded in comparison, but as she walked further into the vast ballroom heads turned her way as she passed, and voices dropped to a hush. The women eyed her suspiciously, but the men’s glances ran the length of her body and lingered. She fought the urge to smile. She would be the belle of the ball. She really, really would. She didn’t return any of the young men’s smiles. There was only one man she was interested in dancing with; the prince himself.

When he came into view she stopped short and drew in a breath, her heart suddenly racing. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. She’d wondered if he could match the picture she kept by her bed, but now she knew that was really just a poor imitation. He was tall and broad, and was dressed all in black. His dirty blond hair was smoothly combed to one side, and his perfect face was tanned. Cinderella watched, entranced, as he danced with a short girl in a blue dress. He moved effortlessly and the girl was obviously already in love with him, but it was also obvious that however charming the prince was, he wasn’t focusing much of his attention on his partner. His smile was going over her shoulder to someone just out of Cinderella’s sight.

‘He’s still looking at her.’

‘Why her? He’s danced with her twice. She’s the only one he’s danced with twice. I mean, she’s not even that pretty.’

‘She’s interesting looking though.’

‘If you like that sort of thing.’

Cinderella wasn’t sure which of the gathered girls around her was whispering and she didn’t look, but she did listen hard. Someone had already seized the prince’s attention? Her stomach twisted in a cold sickly knot. Who? Who was her competition? Her feet burned in her shoes.

‘And you know what her mother did, don’t you? She left an Earl for a secretary! How ridiculous! Maybe he just feels sorry for her.’

Cinderella leaned on a pillar to steady herself. Rose? They were talking about Rose? Surely they couldn’t be? She stepped forward, suddenly having to know. It didn’t take more than a moment to spot Rose standing at the edge of the circle watching the prince dance, her red dress matching the flush high in her cheeks. She was smiling at the prince and her face was transformed into something very close to beautiful. The weight she’d lost in the diet she’d been forced to undertake had made her features stronger, and for the first time Cinderella realised that her step-sister wasn’t ugly at all. Unusual perhaps, but not ugly. She gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t lose her prince to Rose. Not to Rose of all girls.

The music stopped and a smattering of applause ran round the room. Many of the girls were now turning their attention to the other noblemen in the room, realising that the prince’s eye had already been taken but there were plenty of other good matches to be made at this Royal Bride Ball. Cinderella looked down at her shoes. They twinkled reflected silver from her dress, like moonlight on water. She took a deep breath. This was magic. And Rose couldn’t fight magic.

The prince, after bowing politely to the girl who was no doubt already forgotten in his mind, but who would probably remember the feel of his hand on her back for the rest of her life, was heading back towards Rose.

Cinderella made her move. With her back to her step-sister, she crossed the room, cutting into the prince’s path. Her arm brushed his and she looked up at him, her eyes wide. ‘I’m so sorry, your highness.’ She dropped into a curtsey. ‘I should have looked where I was going.’

‘No, I should have looked . . .’ his eyes had been locked on Rose, but now he glanced down at Cinderella. It was enough. The end of the sentence drained away. He held his hand out to her. ‘I don’t believe we’ve danced this evening. I would have remembered.’

‘We haven’t.’

‘Then we should rectify that.’ Without taking his eyes from hers, he pulled her close, much closer than he’d danced with the last girl. His arm was strong around her waist, and every inch of her skin tingled at his touch. Her face was inches from his neck and she could smell his scented warmth. She looked up at him and their lips almost brushed.

‘Who are you?’ he whispered.

‘I’m . . .’ She thought of Rose and her step-mother somewhere close by and she thought of her father, the secretary, and in the end she said all she could think of to escape discovery. ‘Names can wait until later. Just dance with me.’

‘As you wish, mystery girl,’ he said and when he smiled she thought that all the beauty in the world was caught up in that expression. She melted into his embrace and let him whirl her around the floor, their feet in perfect harmony against the marble. She didn’t care if Rose or her step-mother saw her. She didn’t even look for them. As far as Cinderella was concerned no one else existed. It was just her, her handsome prince and the music. She had no concept of time passing; she was simply caught up in a moment she wanted to last forever. Eventually, the musicians paused for a rest, and the prince led Cinderella to a seat at the side of the room, the two of them sharing a velvet bench, his courtiers ensuring the rest of the guests allowed them some privacy. Cinderella still turned her head sideways and tilted her face down in case her step-mother or Rose should stare at her too hard.

‘I’ve dreamed of meeting you,’ she said, the words blurting out before she could stop them. She blushed slightly. ‘I know that sounds stupid.’

‘It’s uncanny,’ the prince murmured. ‘I feel as if I know you and I don’t even know your name. From the moment I saw you, my heart, well . . .’ He leaned forward and touched her hand. ‘Everyone else faded . . . I just
knew
.’

His hand was warm against hers and as he stroked the back of her hand gently with his thumb, she could feel her breath getting quicker. His face was thoughtful as his eyes searched hers.

‘I’d given up on love, you know. True love.’ He had leaned in closer to her and their lips were almost touching as they spoke. Cinderella longed to touch his face, to feel his hands on her. Her heart thumped in her chest. This was everything she’d dreamed of since she’d been a little girl. She’d never seen such a beautiful man, and here he was, and he wanted her.

‘So much isn’t as it seems, don’t you think?’ he said. ‘But this, it’s magical.’

‘Love at first sight,’ she said. She ignored the faintly unsettled feeling the mention of magic gave her.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I do believe it is.’

‘Shall we dance again?’ she said. She wanted to feel his body against hers and wrap her arms around his neck and move freely. Break away from the formality of the set pieces. More than anything, she wanted to kiss him.

‘Your wish is my command,’ he said.

She felt as if she was floating when she got to her feet, and it was only when she glanced at the clock as they passed it, that she came crashing back to earth. It was quarter past eleven. It couldn’t be. Her heart raced. Leave by midnight or be home by midnight? What had the fairy godmother said? She couldn’t take the chance of being late. Of having the second night stolen from her. The night when the prince would
choose
.

‘Would you excuse me for a moment?’ she looked up at him, and let her eyes absorb the perfection of his face, storing it in memory. ‘I must . . .’ she wasn’t quite sure how to finish the sentence. Thankfully, he simply nodded.

‘Hurry back, my love.’

She tore herself away before she lost her determination, and then scurried through the revellers towards the stairs. She didn’t look back.

T
he carriage was waiting for her, the driver leaning against the door watching as she fled the castle.

‘Did you meet your handsome prince?’ he asked. Again, there was a tone in his gruff voice that hinted he was laughing at her. She glared at him, wanting him to move away from the door so she could climb in. Although broad, he wasn’t as tall as the prince, and where her love was blond and beautiful, this man had dark hair that hung slightly over his eyes and rough stubble peppered his chin and cheeks. His brown eyes made her nervous. She couldn’t read them.

‘Yes I did,’ she said. ‘Now get me back home before we’re both in trouble.’

He laughed a little, an earthy sound, and stepped back, pulling the door with him and giving a brief mock bow as she climbed in.

‘I was born in trouble it seems,’ he said. ‘But at least I’m no pansy prince who can’t take care of himself.’

‘What do you mean?’ Cinderella asked, leaning forward in her seat. He either didn’t hear her or just refused to answer because suddenly the wheels were turning and they were on their way. He was jealous, she decided. Who wouldn’t be? The prince had everything a woman could want. That much was obvious. And he was going to be hers. That thought made her smile and, as they raced back to the house, she lost herself in the memory of his touch on her hand and the way he’d held her close as they danced.

T
he magic vanished as soon as she’d stepped through the kitchen door, her hair tumbling free down her shoulders and her fine silver gown evaporating to leave her back in her house dress. Her feet cooled as her own shoes, clunky and uncomfortable in comparison, replaced the diamond slippers. She was still smiling though, and made sure the other two nuts were safely into her pocket before drinking a glass of her father’s wine and dancing with a broomstick across the kitchen floor and giggling to herself.

She’d barely crept upstairs in the dark and crawled into her cold bed by the time the front door slammed and lights went on throughout the house. She could hear her step-mother shouting. She was sure Rose was crying.

‘You stupid, stupid girl!’

‘It wasn’t my fault, I—’

‘You
had
him. In the palm of your hand! All my dreams – all your dreams – shattered!’

‘Look, mother, I did my best—’

‘Well it wasn’t good enough!’

Cinderella pulled her knees up under her chin. Her excitement and the glow of love still burned in the pit of her stomach, but hearing her step-mother screeching so hysterically was something new and it gave her a sickening twist. As did Rose’s sobbing.