Cinderela, Part 3

I didn’t have to work supper shift, so I awoke from a long night’s rest refreshed. As I was dressing in the bathroom, I talked to Iisha. “I have not felt this good in days. Maybe Marianne was right. Maybe all I needed was some rest.”

“Mmph,” came from the shower.

“You know, I really think that much sleep was good for me.” I looked in the mirror. “I even look refreshed.”

Iisha drearily peeked out from behind the curtains. “Yeah, you do.”

I thought about that. “Something really good is going to happen today. I can feel it.” I twirled around the bathroom floor, doing a random dance step that I had learned somewhere. “The day couldn’t get any better. Maybe I should just run around the orchard as I did as a child, and forget all the chores to be done. After all, you only have one life.” I started humming a melody, and swayed to the beat.

Iisha poked her head our from the shower. “Have you run mad?” she asked. “This is all we have. And it may not be much, but it is our life. And regardless of how many you have or have not, you cannot just give this life up in favor of another. This one is yours, Ela, and you have to live with it. Servant or no, you are what you are.”

A defined anger swelled over me. “Then maybe I don’t want this life anymore; I just want to live like . . . I don’t know, like I’m free. I don’t want to have to go around saying what do you need. I want to live for me, just me.”

“You are mad.”

I slammed out of the bathroom, then opened the door again and left it open just to annoy Iisha. Yes, it was childish, but I was feeling childish.

I stormed into the kitchen and put water on the stove. I wasn’t sure what I was making; I didn’t have breakfast duty. I just needed to be doing something and stop thinking about my life

“Ela, what are you doing in here?” Marianne came bustling in.

“I’m boiling water.”

“Why on earth are you doing that? Do you not have anything better to do? If you do not, I will most certainly give you something to do.” She turned off the heat, took my pot off the stove, and poured the water out.

“Fine.” I slammed out of the second room today. The day had started out so perfect, but you could never trust that. Whenever a day started out perfect, there was only one way for it to go: downhill.

I wandered through the orchard near our lands. I liked being able to walk around without anyone to tell me what to do. I would probably get in trouble with Marianne later, for doing none of my chores for the last two days, and with the other girls, for when I neglected my chores, they had to do them. And maybe with my mistress, although she does not really know any of her servers, except to deliver a spiteful word.

I climbed a tree and sat there for a while, eating another perfect apple on another perfectly good, wasted day. The sweet, sticky smell of apples clung to me, calming me. Juice ran down my chin from the apple I was eating. The sun shone brightly in the sky, and a small flicker of hope washed through me. The day was not yet up; my prophecy of this being a wonderful day was not yet ruined.

I laughed and jumped down from the tree, and landed right before a man. The man. The one I had met at the market the other day. “Why, hello,” he said. Always smooth, he was.

I, of course, was startled, looking at him as though he magically appeared, which he sort of did. “Hello.”

He smiled. He had a dimple on his left cheek. When he smiled, his face lit up and his eyes shined. “How are you doing today?”

I smiled back, shyly. “Fine. And you?”

He started walking, and I followed him, for I had decided that this day would not be a waste, and he was definitely not a waste.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing around these parts?” I asked. I could be smooth as well.

“You see, I rode my horse here, and I decided to take a walk when you fell from the sky.” He smiled over at me.

“It was actually an apple tree.” I was the cleverest of them all, informing this fine gentlemen that it was an apple tree when we were in an apple orchard. Sigh.

“I see. What are you doing out here?” We stepped over a fallen branch, and long grass snaked around my ankles.

“I was . . . ummm . . . Actually, I was picking apples.” That was a good reason to be in an apple orchard . . . right?

“Really? Where is your carrying basket?” He looked at me politely, but his eyes laughed at me.

“Well, you see, when I fell from the sky, it sort of stayed up there on a cloud. You can see it, if you look hard enough.” I pointed into the sky. “Right there.”

He laughed. “You’re funny. What are you really doing here?”

I shrugged and smiled. “Getting away from work and . . . people.”

There was a log across our path, and we both sat down on it. There was soft moss on it, the light green fuzzy kind, that was soft to the touch, and always reminded me of snuggling my feet into it when I was nine. The bark was rough, with many ruts, but had a warm, homey feel to it, as though it had always been there, and would always be there.

We sat in silence for a while. “So, where’s your horse?”

He nodded to the hill to our right. “Over there somewhere.” He brightened up. “Do you want to see her?”

“I’d love to.” We walked up a dirt, beaten trail that curled around the apple trees. I grabbed an apple on the way by. When we got to her, I gasped.

She was gorgeous. She had a shining, dark brown coat, that almost gleamed in the sunlight, a wash of color that could best any silk on the shelf. Her mane was a waterfall of shimmering black, silking over her shoulder. The glistening strands of her hair reminded me of rivers flowing through deep valleys, the small, defined, rivers that all melded together to make one.

“She’s beautiful.” I walked slowly towards her, scared of frightening her, but she watched me peaceably with deep brown eyes.

“Thank you.” Pride showed in his voice. “Her name is H’ajje. I have taken care of her since she was a foal, and her mother died.”

“You have done an excellent job.” I turned to the horse. “You are a beautiful lady. And such a lady deserves a treat.” I had seen how she had been watching the apple in my hand. “This is for you.”

She daintily took it with her teeth. “Oh please, you are so spoiled.” He walked over and gave her a hug. “She gets treats all the time at home from everyone,” he explained to me. “They all pretty much share your opinion.”

“As they should. She deserves it.” I petted her velvety nose, and she butted my hand back. Her deep eyes seemed to smile at me with an understanding of something that even I did not understand I saw in her eyes.

“Ela! Ela! Answer me, girl!” That was Marianne. I rolled my eyes.

“I’m sorry, but I must go.” I backed away. “I must get back.”

He smiled kindly. “As must I. Good day, lady.”

I nodded to him. “Good day to you as well.”

He stared at me for a while longer, a slightly sad look overtaking his eyes. “I do wish you would reconsider your opinion of noblemen.”

I stared open-mouthed as he trotted away, but came to in time to say, “But wait! What is your name?”

He looked back and called, “You may call me Aubrey!”

“Aubrey,” I said dreamily. “Aubrey.” I flounced down the rest of the hill to Marianne, who was standing with her hands on her hips, watching me stonily.

I laughed and danced around her, repeating the name. “Oh, I just met the most wonderful man! Wonderful, wonder, wonderful!” I sang a tuneless song and danced more. The long grass reached to me, and pulled me down to it. I landed in a heap, laughing. I lay on my back, looking at the clouds, and repeated it once more. “Aubrey.”

Marianne came into my view above me. She was trying to look stern, but a smile was creeping onto her face. “And who is this Aubrey?”

“Oh, just the most wonderful man in the world. I met him at the market yesterday, and he looks at me in the most wonderful way–as though I were really there, do you know what I mean? As though I existed for him, which for many noblemen I don’t–“

”Wait–he is a noblemen?” Marianne looked doubtful and slightly . . . regretting.

“Yes. The most wonderful one I have ever met.” I smiled up into the true-blue sky.

“Are you sure it is wise to fall for someone who you may never be with?”

I turned to her, my brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?” My head was getting fuzzier, more than just what this Aubrey did to it. I blinked twice and tried to pay attention.

“He is a noble, and you are a servant. This will never come of anything.” But I didn’t hear what she had to say. “Marianne?” I asked. The whole world was unclear, as though I had spun around many times and then lay down. Everything was spinning, and I didn’t know how to stop it. Then it dissolved.

I lay in a large bed, with four white posts, and pink sheets all around me. I had been crying for someone, but I couldn’t figure out who. There was a white and pink canopy that I kept staring at, thinking. Thinking of . . .

I struggled to open my eyes. I couldn’t remember what I was thinking of. I just couldn’t. Marianne’s voice awakened me. “Honey-dear, are you having another dizzy spell?”

I tried to nod, but I think it didn’t work. “Mmmmm.”

“Well, just lie down until you feel you can walk, then come down to the house. I’ll help you down.”

Long minutes passed, and finally the shape of Marianne came into focus. She helped me down to the house, and I sat the remainder of the day in my bed.

I tried to read, but the words were a blur, and I kept thinking of what Marianne had told me later about Aubrey. Was he really all that much out of my reach? Could not love conquer all? Wasn’t that what it was supposed to do?

Marianne came in, and quietly shut the door behind her. “Honey, I want you to tell me everything that happened.”

I smiled. “Well, yesterday at the market I met this most wonderful man, Aubrey. And he treated me as though I was someone to listen to, even though I was a servant and he was a noble. He was wonderful, and tried to apologize to me because he thought he might have insulted me, although he didn’t–“

”Although I would love to hear all this, darling,” she cut in, “I was actually asking about your dizzy spells. They concern me much more than this boy of yours.”

“Oh. Those. I pretty much told you everything I know yesterday . . . They’ve been coming for about two months now, but they started as just dizziness. Then I started having visions and remembrances with the dizziness.” I shook my head. “I just don’t understand. Why am I having these?”

Marianne’s brow furrowed. “I do not know. Perhaps it was something you ate.” When she said that, I knew she was lying. That was her average, over-used, I’m-not-telling-you line.

She stood up and walked towards the door. “Marianne, why don’t you want me to know what these are about, whether they are about my past or not?”

She stayed with her back towards me. “Because, Ela, there are some things that should be left alone, and your past is one of those things, for fear of your life.” And she walked out.


The next morning, I was not at all happy. Dark circles ran under my eyes like the nightmares through my head the night before. My bed was not happy either; the pillow lay on the other side of the room, and the sheets, which had attempted to strangle me through the night, were strewn in all directions.

I dragged myself into the bathroom to wash. I looked in the mirror, and did not like what I saw. The girl in the mirror was worn, tired, and simply did not look good. How would it do to have Aubrey find you like this? I asked myself. That question was easily answered: it wouldn't do at all.

I took a deep breath, and splashed my face with cold water. I shook my head, dried my face, and looked at the mirror again. It was better; not perfect, but better. Nothing makes you more self-conscience of your appearance than the knowledge that a boy might be looking.

I tied my hair in a red ribbon that complimented my complection; the red flamed to life in the sea of darkness that was my hair.

I ran to the kitchen and turned water on. The kitchen still smelled faintly of bacon from breakfast, and the chicken was already roasting in the over for the noon meal. Marianne didn’t stop me this time; she could see I was actually doing something, not heating up water just for the heck of it. I poured the hot water in the teapot, and waited while it seeped. Then I poured a large cup for myself, putting in a bit of honey while Marianne was not looking, to sweeten the taste. If she had seen, Marianne would probably only have scolded me. “She’s taken care of you all your life, and that softens a woman much,” a servant once told me. I think it was Suzanne, but I am not certain, for it was several years ago, when I was twelve.

“My dear, do you not have anywhere else to sit?” Marianne stood in front of me and, now finished with the day's breakfast, raised an eyebrow at me.

I looked around. I was the only one sitting on a metal stool in the middle of the kitchen. “No, not really.”

She crossed her hands over her chest. “Shouldn’t you be doing something this morning?”

I smiled. “Well, if you need anyone to go into the market today, I would be very glad to go. In fact, if there is anything that needs doing out of this house, all’s the better.”

Marianne pursed her lips. “Although I question the intelligence to this relationship, there is one thing that is to be done out of the house. And since I do not want, in the mood that you have been in, fighting with any of the mistresses, perhaps you should take the task.”

I grinned. “Oh, most certainly. After all, no one wants such a thing more than I. After all, fighting with one of the mistresses would almost assure my dismissal.”

Shaking her head she said, “Here you are. All I need is raspberries for a cobbler that will be made for tonight, since, quite unexpectedly, one of Laurece’s prime victims is coming tonight for dinner.” Marianne always referred to Laurece’s suitor as victims and frankly, I completely agreed.

I enjoyed the quiet, peaceful walk that entertained me on my way to the market. When things were so tranquil, it left room for me to fill the silence with my thoughts. And today, I had one very attractive thought.

Today I stopped at many stalls, but one in particular. I stared at all the beautiful silks and laces that one could buy, and imagined the dress I would wear for Aubrey if I had enough money to buy anything like these fabrics. It would be black and red, with a low back, and frills around the bottom, with a thick sash thrown around my waist. It would be perfect.

My attention was drawn away by a crier in the center of the market. I pushed through the crowd that was packed around to hear what he had to say. I arrived there as he started speaking.

“Attend to me, you here in this market,
for I bear a message,
from thy royals, king and queen.
Their message be:
two nights from now
there be a ball
from which their loving prince shall choose
a bride to be, a new princess.
And invited to this ball, are all
of those born of noble parentage.
You who wish to come, arrive
at thy sire’s palace here,
at promptly eight.”

I gasped. A ball A beautiful, dancing ball, with all those whom are nobles will attend. That could mean only one thing–Aubrey would be there.

I dashed out of the market, then remembered the raspberries, and ran back to get them from a vendor. Once retrieved, I ran home, the fastest I ever had. “Marianne Marianne ” I shouted as I ran into the kitchen.

“Yes, honey-dear, what is it?” She sounded a little suspicious, as though it might be another of my obscure ideas that would get everyone into troubles.

I laughed, a light and high sound that made Marianne smile. “What is it, dear? Something to make you so happy is sure not to be good for me.”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic.” My eyes shined as I said, “There is a ball two nights from today, with all the noblemen and -woman to be invited. May I go?”

Marianne looked at me as though at first I had deceived her, that she had been right, it was another of my mad schemes. “No.” She turned back to what she was mixing.

“But–why ever not? I will be sure to do all my chores, and anything else you wish me to do, beforehand. I’ll help all the mistresses get ready, then I’ll do myself, and–“

”Honey, there is one problem to your plan.” She turned around to look at me. “Are you a noblewoman?”

I shook my head. “No. But I don’t see how that would be of any relevance. They would have no knowledge that I was not, and the mistresses would never guess it was me, they don’t even know my name–“

”I said no,” she said, going back to cutting vegetables. “That is my final answer.”

“But--Marianne, why?” Tears were on the verge of disobeying me and releasing themselves from the pits where they belonged.

“Because I do not think that this relationship is for the best. It’s fine to admire this man from a distance, but to see him, talk with him, and dance with him, no. You will only be heartbroken.”

“No, I won’t. And even if I will, I’ll enjoy it while my heart breaks.”

“Dear, there is simply no way that I am going to let you go. There are many noblemen who would take advantage of a pretty servant like you. I just don’t think it’s in your best interest to go.”

“How do you know what’s my best interest?” There was poison in my words and in my gaze.

Marianne turned around. “Because, I’ve raised you since you were born, and I know that you will fall for this man, and then be ruined when you realize you can’t be married to him.”

“Who says that a servant can’t be married to a noble? Is there some law about it?”

“It is an unspoken law, but still a law. A noble may court you, or even make love to you, but he will not wed you.”

“And how do you know this man is like that?”

“Because they are all the same ” she yelled. “Every noblemen will take your heart and then crush it in his palm.” She was crying, tears streaking her face.

“Marianne, what is it? You are not the one who should be crying.”

“Yes, yes, I am.” She looked at me sadly. “If things had just gone a little bit differently, then you could have gone to this ball, and met this man, and fallen in love, and been married.” She shook her head and wiped her eyes. “But things didn’t go differently. They went the way they went, and you can’t go and fall in love.”

I glared at her, then ran from the room, slamming the door behind me. I ran to my room, and by the time I was there, tears were streaming across my face.

I didn’t know what she meant. “If things had just gone a little bit differently . . .” she had said. What did it mean? It made something in my head ring with memories, but I could not find what it was that she made me think of. And that was the most frustrating thing that could ever happen.

Marianne came to my room before dinner, and told me that I was meant to wait on Laurece, the mistress of the house, and Laurece’s potential suitor. I nodded, then turned away, but she sat on my bed.

“Dear, there are things about you that even you don’t know, and I know that must be hard. And I’ve been thinking about my ultimatum earlier this afternoon, and I decided, it just wasn’t fair. And I think–well, I’ve decided, that you may go to the ball.”

I turned around and hugged her. “Really? Oh, thank you, Marianne.” When she turned to leave I said, “But, why?”

She smiled. “Because you’re memory’s coming back.”

View the next chapter: "Cinderela, Part 4"