Mrs. Beast (28 page)

    
"Your husband has not yet visited my kingdom, but you must be my guest while you await his arrival."

    
As they approach the castle entrance, ten trumpets sound, and countless servants scurry to greet King Paul.
 
A footman helps Beauty dismount while Paul remains in the saddle, gracing his servants with a dazzling, dimpled-cheeked smile.

    
"Now, I must be away to ensure all is well in my kingdom.
 
Princess Beauty, I leave you in the care of my wife, Queen Cinderella."
 
Paul tugs on the reins, his steed rears, whinnies and paws the air.
 
The servants, grooms, footmen, and trumpeters collectively exhale with adoration.
 
At the top of the stair is a woman veiled in Chantilly lace from gold crown to gold shoes.
 
On her shoulder perches an albino raven whose pink eyes roll suspiciously over Beauty.

    
"I don't like the sun.
 
Won't you come inside?" Cinderella squeaks in a voice like fingernails on slate.

    
"Who in blazes are you?" the raven caws when Beauty reaches the top stair.

    
"Mother, please be nice," Cinderella peeps.

    
Upon close inspection, Beauty sees that the raven's white feathers neither gleam nor shine.
 
Its beak is like a human fingernail, white at the tip and turning progressively pink until it meets the skull in a bloody crescent.
 
Its legs and claws are scaly and snag in Cinderella's veil as it shuffles nervously on her shoulder.

    
"I'm Beauty," she addresses the silhouette behind the veil.
 
"I received a message from my husband, Prince Runyon, asking me to meet him at Charming Castle."

    
"I'm sorry, Princess Beauty, your husband is not here."
 
Beauty believes she sees a pair of pouting lips ruffle the veil.

    
"Yes, King Paul told me, and he said I was welcome to be your guest until Runyon arrives.
 
I don't know how long that may be, but I do know how to discover where he is at the moment.
 
I was about to consult my magic mirror when . . . "

    
The raven drops like a stone on Beauty's satchel, closes its claws around the handles, and flies into the palace.
  
"Oh, no!" Beauty cries.

    
"Do not worry," Cinderella squeaks.
 
"Mother's simply taking it to your chamber."

    
Beauty follows Cinderella slowly and impatiently inside Charming Castle because Cinderella moves like a toddler.
 
After passing thirty thresholds, Cinderella peeping, "Moth-er" at every one, startling thirty chamber maids, each plain as dust, Beauty asks, "Are your feet causing you pain?"

    
"My, no," Cinderella giggles.
 
"My feet are so tiny, I have to take baby steps.
 
Moth-er," she puffs at the thirty-first threshold, her voice exhausted and wavery.
 
She leans against the doorframe, breathing rapidly.
 
Beauty is about to insist on continuing the search on her own when Cinderella wheezes, "There it is."

    
Beauty's satchel sits, latch open, upon an immense four-poster bed, its contents strewn over the damask spread.
 
Beauty rushes to the bed and searches through the satchel.
 
She lifts the spread and peers under the bed.

    
"How considerate of Mother to put you next to Paul and me," Cinderella squeaks.

    
"The mirror is missing," Beauty moans.

    
"Mother's fond of shiny things.
 
Don't worry, we'll find your mirror as quickly as possible."

*
     
*
     
*

Chapter Twelve

Mother

   
"Bricklebrit.
 
Someone's trying to use the mirror without rhyming," Elora curses upon seeing her crystal ball flashing red.
 
Croesus yawns and three gold coins slide off his tongue.
 
Elora snaps her fingers over the ball and a pale pink eye surrounded by white feathers stares back at her.
 
"Leapin lizards!" Elora shouts.
 
"It's Mother. Where's Beauty?"

    
Elora snaps again and Beauty appears in the Charming castle's south wing, peering into doorways. "She's made it.
 
Obviously, Mephisto delivered the phony letter and kept his shady paws off Beauty. And speaking of shady characters," Elora raps her nails on the ball and the pink-eyed raven pops into view.
 
"Mother is one of the shadiest, literally."

    
Croesus' ears flatten and he backs away from the ball.
 

    
"She's been dead forty years. She's a shade, a specter, a spook, the ghost of Gertrude, Cinderella's mother."

    
Croesus trots boldly back to the ball.
 
The raven opens its ghastly beak and caws,
Abracadabra.
 
Hocus-pocus.
 
Open sesame.

    
"She'll never figure it out," Elora scoffs.
 
"She won't give up either.
 
I may be forced to intervene."

    
Croesus wags his tail expectantly.

    
"Now I
know
I've told you Cinderella's story.
 
It's the oldest fairy tale in Grimm Land; the most cliché fairy tale metaphor in history."

    
Croesus whines and paws the crystal ball.

    
"No I won't show you.
 
I want to keep an eye on that bird, but I'll tell you Cindy's tale in a nutshell.
 
Happy little beauty; only child of Luther, a rich merchant, and Gertrude, a doting mother.
 
When Cindy was ten years old, Gertrude came down with the pox.
 
She called Cindy to her bedside and said,
My dear child, be pious and good, then God will protect you, and I will look down upon you from heaven.
 
Then she died.

    
Cindy lay down on Gertrude's grave and cried four months straight.
 
Then her father married Lavinia, a widow with two teenage daughters.
 
Sweetness and Light were attractive girls with hearts like lumps of coal."

    
Within the crystal ball, the raven blinks a milky white lid and caws,
Show me where King Paul is.

    
"The step-sisters stole Cindy's fine clothes, gave her rags and wooden shoes to wear, worked her from morning till night and made her sleep on the hearth. Three years passed and Cindy remained pious and good because she believed God and her mother were watching. Then one day, before leaving for the fair, Luther asked his daughters what he should bring them.
 
Sweetness said,
Beautiful dresses
.
 
Light said,
Pearls and precious stones
.
  
Cindy said,
The first bough, Father, that knocks against your hat on your way homewards, break it off for me
. Sound familiar?”

    
The raven asks,
Is King Paul with another woman?

    
"Cindy planted the mountain ash branch on Gertrude's grave.
 
She cried buckets, and when she finally stopped, the branch sprang into a full-grown tree.
  
On the top most branch sat Mother with blood in her eye.

    
The raven caws,
Make Cinderella eighteen again.

*
     
*
     
*

    
Cinderella is already seated in the smallest of Charming Castle's ten dining halls when a page escorts Beauty to dinner. The room is pale yellow, the place settings are gold, and the lights from three candelabras on the table create an ambiance as soft as butter.
 
Queen Cinderella wears a short, translucent pink veil.
 
Her hourglass figure is wrapped in a pink gown as wispy as cotton candy; pink kid gloves extend above her elbows. From her waist hangs a small hand mirror tied with white velvet ribbon.

    
"Has my mirror been found?" Beauty asks as soon as she's seated.

    
Cinderella checks her reflection in the hand mirror. "Sorry, not yet."
 
She extracts a powder puff from somewhere in the folds of her dress.
 
"My, my, my, what a relief it is to have a quiet evening. Usually all ten dining halls are filled with guests. Paul knows we always dine at eight.
 
He'll be here soon.
 
I'll just have to compensate with my undivided attention," Cinderella gushes and douses her face with talc. "My life has always been gay as spring.
 
When I was a tiny princess, my father and my mother arranged parties every day for my two sisters and me."

    
Watching Cinderella speak, Beauty can faintly see white blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
 
She guesses that the queen is close to her own age, perhaps a few years older.
 
This would make her approximately thirty years younger than King Paul, which is not uncommon because many queens die in the bloom of youth and must be replaced with young fertile wives.

    
Cinderella prattles on about her joyous childhood, and Beauty's stomach growls.

    
"Oh, my, how embarrassing," Cinderella squeaks.
 
"Perhaps you should have an hors d'oeuvre."

    
Beauty helps herself to a caviar canapé. Cinderella lifts her mirror again and powders her nose. "I'll wait for Paul.
 
I have the appetite of a bird.
 
I haven't gained a pound since our wedding day.
 
I notice you're plump as a pigeon"

    
"I believe pregnancy becomes me," Beauty says with a blush.

    
"You're expecting?"
 
Cinderella turns to the footman.
 
"Serve Princess Beauty at once. Tell cook to keep King Paul's dishes warm."

    
The servant returns momentarily with a bowl of soup and Kaiser rolls.

    
"While you're eating, I'll tell you how Paul and I met, it's so romantic," Cinderella squeaks.
 
For the next hour, Beauty enjoys both the excellent cuisine and the sound of a happy human voice. Cinderella gaily chatters about every detail of their courtship, the presents he gave her, and the princesses from every kingdom in Grimm Land who competed for the privilege of becoming Paul's bride.

    
At nine o'clock, King Paul sweeps into the dining hall, his cape flowing, and his expression beguiling.
 
Cinderella teeters to his side and leans against him as if he's just returned from the Crusades.

    
"Champagne to celebrate!"
 
Paul laughs heartily, lifts Cinderella by the waist and twirls her around three times.