So This is Love (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,37
searching for.
The duchess was already awake when Cinderella arrived to draw the curtains and help the lady out of bed.
Forgetting her place and entirely too aware of the Grand Duke’s interrogation, Cinderella asked, “Are you feeling well, Your Highness?”
“Now there is an impertinent question,” huffed Genevieve. “Didn’t you learn it was improper to ask a lady about what ails her?”
“My apologies, Your Highness, but I thought—I was hoping I might be able to help you.”
“Hah! There’s nothing you could help me with,” Genevieve said, stirring the sugar into her tea.
“Why can’t you sleep?” asked Cinderella, concerned. “Nightmares?”
The duchess scoffed. “You truly wish to know?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it isn’t any of your business, girl. End of discussion.”
Startled by the duchess’s sharp tone, Cinderella bowed her head to show she understood.
“I’ll be taking supper with my brother today. Be sure to have an extra pot of tea prepared for when I return, with a plate of shortbread. I’ll need extra nourishment for tomorrow morning. Charles suggested the most ghastly hour for a tour of the kingdom.”
Cinderella’s heart skipped a beat. “Prince Charles?”
“Do I have any other nephews named Charles I’m not aware of?” The duchess wrapped the shawl over her shoulders and reached for her walking stick. “All these girls swooning over my nephew. I hope you aren’t one of them.”
“I wouldn’t be eligible, Your Highness,” Cinderella said, swallowing the lump that suddenly formed in her throat.
“All because of some silly laws that my silly ancestors made. The world is changing, Cindergirl, and anyone—I do repeat, anyone—can make something of herself if she puts her mind to it. Oh, to be young today!”
“You think a servant could become a princess?”
“My husband came from a family without wealth, but he was smart—and practical. He was a shrewd businessman, and became one of the richest men in Aurelais. Anybody can become anything, so long as they put their minds to it.” She eyed Cinderella. “Hard work and fortitude, Cindergirl, is what will get you ahead. Not swooning over my nephew.”
Cinderella hid a smile. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Good. Besides, you wouldn’t want him anyway. He’s been so melancholy over that idiotic princess with the impractical shoes. He doesn’t even know her name.”
Cinderella bit her lip and subconsciously reached out to rearrange the flowers before her. While it warmed her heart that the prince was still searching for her and had declared that he’d fallen in love with the girl he’d danced with at the ball, she couldn’t forget how he hadn’t recognized her outside the banquet hall.
Her stepmother’s words echoed in Cinderella’s head. Look at yourself—you are nothing. An orphan and a servant. Who would want you? Certainly not His Royal Highness.
“I blame my brother for young Charles’s romantic notions. George was always the sentimental sort, a believer in love at first sight. That would explain the ball.” Genevieve sighed. “Having Charles pick a bride in such a way, having all the women parade themselves about the palace. Love doesn’t happen like that. Love takes time. George used to have more sense when the queen was alive.”
“What was the queen like?” Cinderella asked.
“She was as kind as she was beautiful—far too good for my brother.” Genevieve chuckled. Then her expression darkened. “She died far too young. . . .” The duchess’s voice trailed off, and she quickly composed herself. “Anyhow, at this rate, the only way to find this mystery maiden of his would be to hold another ball!”
Cinderella pretended to study the flowers she’d arranged so she wouldn’t have to meet the duchess’s eye. “But that isn’t happening, is it?”
“Of course not.” Genevieve made a face. “Imagine, holding another ball simply so Charles can find this glass slipper maiden. What a ludicrous idea! Though now that you mention it, I’d better talk some sense into George before he comes up with such an idea. Wish me luck. If we are all to have some peace in this castle, I will need it.”
“Good luck,” Cinderella said faintly.
After the duchess left, Cinderella sank onto the plush carpet. She’d gone from “orphan” and “nobody” in her stepmother’s eyes to “this glass slipper maiden” in everyone else’s.
Who was she now? She was still a servant, albeit one for the royal family—and she received wages for her work. It was a respectable job, one many would dream of, one she was proud of, and yet . . .
“I’m not happy,” she whispered. She said it again, louder this time. “I haven’t been happy, not in a long time.”