So This is Love (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,59
She’s still asleep for now.”
“All right, then take care of these.” Louisa practically tossed a pair of trousers at her. “It’s an urgent order. I’ll work on the duchess’s collar.”
Cinderella claimed one of the three-legged stools in the corner and laid the pants on her lap. There was a note pinned to one of the legs that the left pocket needed to be mended.
That would be easy enough. Cinderella reached for a needle and a spool of thread in a matching blue. As she tugged at the trouser pockets, a few handkerchiefs and an empty snuffbox fell out. Cinderella carefully put them aside and resumed her work only to find there were yet more hidden pockets in the trousers. One held an empty vial.
“Whose are these?” she asked, turning them inside out.
“I don’t know. They don’t usually tell us who the garments belong to, unless it’s a member of the royal family. Such pockets are commonplace enough.” Louisa grinned slyly. “Nobles need all sorts of hiding places for their fans and secret love letters.”
“Secret love letters? You’re joking, aren’t you?”
Louisa laughed. “What do you think the nobles do all day? They don’t have to toil for their wages like we do.”
“The king works,” Cinderella reasoned, “and so does the Grand Duke.” If you call spying and scheming “work.”
“True, but the rest of them busy themselves with balls and gossip.” Louisa sighed, staring longingly at the duchess’s gown. “And beautiful, beautiful dresses.”
A strand of pearls had fallen off the trimming on one of the sleeves, and Louisa stroked her chin, studying how she should begin her work. “The lace on this alone costs a fortnight’s salary. Can you imagine owning a gown so beautiful?”
She took the sleeves and tucked the dress under her chin, letting the skirt fall over her legs with a swoosh. Cinderella did the same, holding up the trousers and pretending to be a young lord.
“Miss Louisa, would you do me the honor of a dance?” She bowed with a flourish, and Louisa curtsied; then the two girls danced to an imaginary waltz.
“You know, you look a little like her.”
Cinderella tilted her head. “Hmm?”
“The runaway princess. Has anyone told you that? A couple of the girls from Blooms and Looms have mentioned it.”
Cinderella’s mouth went instantly dry. Her throat constricted—could she trust Louisa with the truth? “Well, I . . . um, I—”
Thankfully, at that instant, the door burst open and the two girls immediately rushed to the nearest chairs. In stormed Madame Irmina, heaping another basket of clothes by the ones already next to Louisa.
“I see I was wrong about you,” Irmina said, frowning at Cinderella. “I reward you with a permanent position in the palace, and the first thing you do is stir up mischief with my niece! Disappointment always abounds when it comes to these new young hires.”
“No, no, Madame Irmina,” said Cinderella. “I was just dropping off Her Highness’s gown—”
“Then she was helping me with some of the mending. Truly, Aunt Irmina.”
“I hope so,” Irmina replied, still frowning. “You girls better get back to work. There’s a ball tonight, and both your jobs are on the line.”
When she left, Louisa erupted into laughter. “That was close. Did you see how cross she looked?” Louisa pretended to fan herself. “I think she isn’t happy unless she threatens at least one person’s job a day, old Aunt Spoilsport.”
Cinderella smiled. “She’s not so bad. Compared to my stepmother, your aunt’s as gentle as a mouse.”
At the memory, Cinderella’s amusement faded. She lowered her gaze so Louisa wouldn’t ask about her past and resumed work on the “urgent” trousers. Now that the pockets had been emptied, Cinderella quickly checked the material, especially the white stripes on the pant legs, for stains. As she finally began to sew, something rustled against her ankle.
“What’s this?” she murmured to herself, removing several scraps of paper from yet another one of the hidden pockets. The papers had gone through the wash, smearing the ink, and while the writing was small and neat, it was barely legible. Cinderella glanced at the scraps to make sure they weren’t anything important, but the only words she could vaguely make out were concoction and pain. Not knowing what to do with them, she crumpled them into her pocket to throw away later.
Louisa tilted her head at her. “You know, everyone says the duchess is such a terrible mistress, but you don’t seem to be that afraid of her.”
“I’m not,” Cinderella admitted. “I’ve seen real cruelty, and