Roses and Black Glass: a dark Cinderella tale (18 page)

Charlotte
stared into her sister’s face and felt her mind falling apart.  The tiny
threads that held her together were pulling taut and beginning to snap. 
Isabella didn’t understand.

“You are
right,” Charlotte said calmly. “But how am I to be seduced into this by my own
sister!  Your spontaneous actions will get us killed or worse!”

The red-haired
girl threw her sister’s hands from her face in anger.  Isabella came back at
her sister with a powerful slap across her cheek.

“You know
nothing, you pathetic child!” she screamed. “Mother is dead and Christian will
be mine!  What happens to you does not have to be my concern!”  Isabella shook
her head.  “I try to give you the world, yet this is how you repay me!”

Isabella
stormed out then, leaving Charlotte to stand in the bedroom alone with her own
guilt.  Her mother had a plan for them.  That plan would have them taken care
of.  Isabella’s jealousy and anger had made her step outside the original plans
and aim to bring death to Morgana and Beatrice.  Isabella had told Charlotte
all about what Beatrice had asked Christian to do for her – she had been
outside and overheard their conversation when she’d asked him.  Isabella wasn’t
going to hear of such an affair.  That was why she had insisted they place the
poison in the women’s drinks.  It was the same poison that kept Cindy’s mother
sick and killed Cindy’s father – and was the very same that was meant for Christian. 
Charlotte had refused and thought she had talked her sister out of it, but it
appeared now that she had been mistaken.

Charlotte had
been feeling distressed since Isabella’s bursts of rebellion.  The plan was set
in stone for safety.  Isabella did not understand these things.  Mother knew
best – and she would
not
have been pleased.

4

     The
doctor was downstairs, trying to do whatever he could for Morgana and Beatrice,
but he hadn’t been having much luck when Christian had left.  Both women were
only vomiting continuously – sometimes even with blood – and he didn’t know any
good reason why he should stick around for that.  Christian returned to his
room and locked himself inside.  When he was sure that no one was going to come
after him, he reached into the drawer and withdrew the shoe of black glass and
the letter.

     He sat on
the floor against the wall, turning the dainty shoe in his hands and trying to
learn its secret.  He’d read the letter over and over again, and there was only
one passage describing the shoe itself. 
Cindy, the object you will be left
with is a magical item, but it will not bring powerful results just by wearing
it.  But, like an ordinary item, when placed within the right obsession, even
the unthinkable can happen.
  That was all very nice as far as Christian was
concerned, but it didn’t seem to help him at all.  Still, he couldn’t put the
shoe down.           

     The glass
was smooth.  So smooth and cool like… 
Cindy’s skin
.  He closed his eyes
and remembered first putting his hands on her.  It was like she hadn’t felt
warmth in ages.  He thought about when he’d first seen her, covered in soot and
blood.  But at least she’d been tending a fire.  At least she’d been warm
then.  Her wicked family had taken away the fire – even in her eyes.  He’d seen
that fire rekindled last night.  He hadn’t seen it before when she’d come back
to him at the party.

    
The
party.
  He saw a white image, and in the midst of it, he saw the dark
shoe.  It stood alone, and then a pale foot was sliding down into it.  As soon
as the heel of the foot touched down inside the shoe, a cascade of blood began to
ooze out from within and trail down the glass.  What was this he was seeing?  A
vision?  A creation of his own mind? 
  

     Christian
opened his eyes and looked down at the shoe in his hands.  Perhaps it was
Cindy’s place and not his, but he had an idea of what to do with this gift they
had been given.

1

     Within
the sanctity of her attic room, Cindy sat on the bed, staring into the small
cage on the table.  Within, her loving pet, who had been her only friend for
the past three years, lay unmoving.  The rat’s legs were stiff, his nose dry. 
The girl couldn’t help but wonder if this was a result of the curse upon her,
but she dismissed it quickly.  This was only death, and she understood that
within and without.

     “You were
good to me, Augustus,” she said.  There were no tears; only acceptance. “But it
is better this way.  It is better for you not to see what I have become.”

     She did
not realize that her hands were shaking.  Why?  What
was
this feeling in
the air?

2

     Charlotte
had wandered into the kitchen after her argument with Isabella and now she sat
at the table, staring blankly at a large black crow that was perched on the
window ledge, out of the rain.  It was nothing significant to her; only a focal
point to aid her misery and confusion. 

She had no
idea of what to do now about her situation.  Stay with Isabella?  Try to leave
on her own?  It might not be too hard to find some simple husband, but she had
nothing to take with her.  Perhaps though, if indeed Isabella got to marry
Christian, Charlotte might be able to continue with their mother’s plan on her
own.  How was Isabella to watch her ever second?  She could not guard Christian
always.

     The crow
ruffled its feathers and then took flight from the window, breaking her
concentration.  The swiftness startled her, but she just gathered herself in
the shawl and sat back more.  The girl was not aware enough to know that she
was falling apart.  She felt confused and desperate.  Surely there was some way
to save herself.

    
Cindy.

     The
thought floated to the top of her mind like a bubble to the surface of water. 
Perhaps leaving
was
possible.  Perhaps she could order Cindy along with
her.  Cindy was smart and resourceful.  She would not let them perish.   

“Charlotte?”

The quiet
voice behind her urged her to shiver.  She turned to look behind her and saw
the man standing there.  Only when she saw him did she realize that it was a
male voice that had called to her.  He stood in the entrance from the garden,
just a shadow against the gray sky.

“Christian?”
Charlotte asked in disbelief, standing to get a better look.

The young man
allowed himself to come fully inside without being asked, reaching in his coat
pocket as he came nearer.  Charlotte took cautious steps toward him in
curiosity.  It was quite strange that he was here – especially since he had
entered through this door which he should have known nothing about.

“What are you
doing here?”

“Does this
look familiar to you?” he asked, pulling his hand from his pocket to show her
an object.

Charlotte took
the black object carefully in her hand to examine it.  She found herself
staring back at her own reflection in a shoe of black glass. 

“Remarkable,”
she murmured. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite–”

“Yes,” said
Christian, “but does it look familiar?”

She could say
that she’d never seen Christian like this before.  He seemed frantic to have
her answer his question, looking back at her in anticipation.

“I…” she
began, but thought twice. “Why?”

Christian put
his hand to his head in disappointment and closed his eyes.

“I wasn’t
completely myself at the party the other night,” he explained after taking a
deep breath. “I’d had too much to drink and I hardly remember any of the faces
I saw there.  But, I met this one woman…  My God, she was an angel!”

Charlotte
looked on in interest.  A desperate Christian?  What was he getting at?

“I actually
told her of my state and then said that I was afraid I wouldn’t remember her
after that night – not her name or her face.  She then gave me this shoe so
that I would be able to find her, yet I have tried everywhere and have not been
able to locate her!”

“And that was
why you consented to marry Morgana?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes,” he
lied. “I could not find the woman I truly desired.”

Christian
picked up the shoe and moved it between his hands, staring down at the smooth
surface.  She watched his hands move, thinking of how they might caress her own
body.

“You have no
idea, Charlotte,” he said quietly, staring down at the shoe. “I would marry her
in a heartbeat!  Just let me find the lady who can wear this shoe!  I don’t
care who she is.  Her conversation was enough to win me over.”

A smile
touched her lips and she opened her mouth, quite ready to say that he was in
luck, for she was in fact the woman who had worn that shoe.  But before she was
able to speak, he interrupted her.

“That was when
I thought of Isabella.”

Charlotte
stood in shock, forgetting her earlier tears.  “Isabella?”

“Yes,”
Christian confessed.  “Now I can’t get her out of my head.  I’m so certain that
it must have been her that I was with at the party.” 

Charlotte held
her breath, but nothing else he could have said would have offended her more.

“I have to
go,” he went on, “but would you do me the favor of seeing that your sister gets
this shoe?  So that she will know that I came looking for her?”

The gears in
Charlotte’s mind began to turn at this.  Christian was so overcome with love
that he wasn’t thinking properly!  He didn’t care about reason.  Charlotte
looked down at the shoe.  The size appeared smaller than her own, but with a
little effort she might be able to fit her foot inside the shoe.  Then her
mother would be proud of her.  She would be Mrs. Christian Charming – and the
plan would be corrected.

“I will help
you,” Charlotte volunteered. “Leave the shoe with me and I’ll see that my
sister has it.  But if it is not hers, I will see that the woman who can wear
it is found.”

Christian’s
lips smiled slightly to reflect the thoughts of his mind, but the smile faded
quickly as he again fell back into his lie.

“You would do
that – even if I am to end up with another?”

Charlotte
smiled sweetly back at him.

“Your
happiness is my happiness,” she said.

The man smiled
again, letting his eyes express his pleasure in her acceptance of the gift –
and her failure to see through him.

“That’s damned
decent of you,” he said graciously.

She nodded
with a smile, and he smiled warmly back before exiting to the garden.  With
that smile, Charlotte’s devotion was set.  She would indeed have him, and she
would enjoy him greatly – while he still lived
.  Isabella
would be the
unfortunate one.

Looking around
her, Charlotte scooped up the shoe carefully and wrapped it in her shawl.  No
one would see this shoe except her, and somehow she would make it fit.  She
turned, ready to head to her room and try to force the shoe onto her foot.

Facing back
towards the kitchen door, she stopped abruptly at the sight of Isabella who had
just come through the doorway, looking for her no doubt.  The blonde stared on in
surprise at the look of guilt on her sister’s face.  What was she up to?

“What are you
doing, darling sister?” she purred, looking on suspiciously.

Charlotte
shook her head slowly, not taking her eyes from her sister’s.

“Nothing,
dearest sibling,” she assured Isabella.

Isabella
stared back at her in silence for a moment, examining all of Charlotte’s
twisted features and wide eyes.  The red-head shifted her weight and breathed
in large nervous sighs.

“You’re
lying,” Isabella finally deduced.

“I am not,”
said Charlotte as innocently as possible.

“Yes you are
so!” Isabella claimed. “Who were you talking to?  And what is that in your
shawl?”

A wave of
panic overtaking her, Charlotte gripped a large skillet from the stove and
raised it high over her head.  Isabella eyed it, but with little fright.

“You wouldn’t
dare
,” she warned.

The hard gaze
of her sister shut her down.  Charlotte dropped the skillet quickly and
carelessly and rushed out of the kitchen.  Her feet carried her across the hall
and into the dining room where she quickly locked the door, holding the glass
shoe tightly in one hand.

“
I don’t
have time to bother with you
,” Isabella called faintly from beyond the
door. 

Charlotte
stood silently and listened for several moments.  Isabella had not come after
her.  In fact, her sister was walking away.  She knew she was safe now – safe
with the shoe – and a short giggle escaped her lips.

  Looking
around, Charlotte walked to the table and sat the shoe down carefully.  Pulling
out one of the tall-backed chairs, Charlotte made her own seat, straight in
front of the shoe and stared at it silently as though it were some holy item. 
Her heart thumped rapidly in her chest.  She took a deep breath as she stared
down at it.  It was time.

Lifting it
carefully, she pulled off her own shoe and placed the glass slipper on the end
of her foot.  Her toes were a bit too wide, but she pushed as hard as she could
and forced them within the shoe.  Pushing more of her foot inside, she managed
to press her toes against the very tip, yet her heel would not go in.

She strained
her foot and tried to bend it to fit her heel inside, but despite her efforts,
her foot would not go into the shoe.  After much exertion and the color of her
hand and foot turning from white to red, she stopped and set the shoe back upon
the table.  It was useless.  The shoe would never fit.  She would never make
her mother proud.

Tears began to
fall from her eyes in stress.  What would happen to her?  She and Isabella were
both left here without mother and had no idea what to do to carry on life. 
They had both lost Christian and what was worse was that she had promised she
would help Christian find the one who
could
wear the shoe.  If she was
to fall into his good graces at all, she would have to do this.  The girl
sobbed in defeat.  All hope was gone.

“Charlotte…”    

The girl heard
her name like wind whispering in her ears.  A familiar voice was calling to
her.  She lifted her tear-stained face and looked forward carefully, seeing
that she was alone.  Still, she knew the voice.

“Mother?” she
asked quietly.

The voice came
back to her without hesitation.  “
Do not cry, my little girl
,” it said.
“
All is well.”

“Mother, where
are you?” Charlotte asked frantically, looking around like a helpless child. 
“I can’t see you.”

“
I am far
away from you now, but you must listen: Charlotte, you must make the shoe fit! 
It is your only chance!”

Charlotte
shook her head helplessly.  “I can’t!” she cried. “I tried so hard!”

“
No
excuses!”
her mother said harshly. “
Isabella has betrayed what she knows
is right!  You are the only one who knows what must be done!
”

Charlotte
buried her face in her hands as they began to shake.  The girl did not stop to
think that her mother was dead and that the woman could not possibly be talking
to her.  Here she was, listening to the words and knowing they were what her
mother would have said if she was still alive.  Charlotte could not know that
her own mind was generating the words and dragging them through her head like a
knife on glass.

“Tell me what
to do mother,” Charlotte begged. “I’m afraid.”

“
Look on
the table.”

Charlotte
raised her red eyes to the tabletop and stared on at the object there, just
within her reach.  The knife gleamed up at her, with a sliver of Cindy’s dried
blood along the edge.

“
Take the
knife in your hand,”
Anna’s voice said.

“What shall I
do with it?” Charlotte asked, awaiting her mother’s commands anxiously.

“
Make the
shoe fit,”
she said. “
It is your only hope.  In the end, the reward will
be worth your pain.”

Charlotte
stared down at her smooth white foot in uncertainty, but this feeling only
lasted a brief moment.  She trusted her mother; she knew best.

Taking the
knife carefully and staring into it at her reflection briefly, Charlotte
lowered the blade to the back of her stocking-shielded foot and began to slice
the skin in a circle around her heel to map the spot she would cut.  Her heel
would not let her fit into the shoe.  She would rid herself of it.

Closing her
eyes, she dug the knife deep into her flesh.  She winced in pain as the blood
from her cut soaked into her white stocking.  She took hold of the bloody flesh
flap and sliced through the rest of the meat, laying the mushy slab of skin on
the table.

The pain was
intense and the sight of her own blood was less than pleasing, but in the end
it would be worth it – just as her mother had said.

She picked the
shoe off the table and forced her foot down into it.  The pain was even worse
once the back edge of the glass shoe touched the open wound, but she tried to
ignore it as best she could.  She pushed her foot as far as it would go into
the shoe, but still it would not fit.  Standing up, Charlotte tried to force
her bloody foot down into the shoe by stomping it on the floor.  This still did
not work.

She began to
get angry at this.  She could swear that she had cut off enough of her heel! 
Yet still the shoe would not fit!  It was almost as though the glass slipper
had magically
shrunken
.

“
Do not
give up, dear daughter!”
Anna’s voice hissed. “
There are still your
toes!  Rid yourself of them and then the shoe will fit!
”