Roses and Black Glass: a dark Cinderella tale Read online

  “Charlotte, could I see you in the other room, please?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “Why, of course, dear sister,” said the red-head with a mocking curtsey. She smiled at Christian, and he was genuinely amused.

  Charlotte brushed past him and Isabella followed. Christian looked over at a glass vase that rested on the nearby table until he became bored with it. He sighed in deep annoyance as he thought. He didn’t want to stick around to hear the result of the sisters’ argument. He had gotten enough of these two already. They were fun to play with – like manipulating dolls – but there were hardly any new games.

  Standing, he peered around to look for a place to sneak off to. There must be somewhere in this huge house that he could hide for a few minutes.

  Perhaps an indoor entrance into the mortuary?

  Conscious of noises nearby, his attention was drawn to a door near the stairs. He approached out of curiosity, letting his interest take hold of him.

  Taking the knob in his hand, he turned it silently and pushed it open, revealing a few steps that led down into a basement hallway. He eased inside, closing the door quietly behind him in hopes that no one would notice. The steps were silent, and at the bottom, he tilted his head to see two long objects wrapped in white, resting on carts that lined the wall.

  Corpses? Christian felt excited at the thought. Perhaps it was simply the adventure of being in this place that no one else had even seen, or perhaps an unacknowledged fascination with death? Either way, he was compelled to go closer.

  Lifting his foot to take a step toward the human-sized bundles, a door at the end of the hallway opened and a figure dressed in black emerged. The reaper. That was his first thought before he'd gotten a good look, but his initial shock was replaced by interest when he saw that it was a girl.

  She was small and slender, wearing a black dress and a large white apron, splattered with blood. She wore thick black gloves and carried a small metal instrument that he could not make out. Her hair was raven black, wound in a thick bun at her neck. He supposed she was around his age, maybe a bit younger. Though he was obviously not seeing her at her best, she was strangely alluring to him. He ignored the bloody apron and became interested quickly. He had never seen her before.

  The girl had failed to notice him. He tilted his head to watch as she leaned over one of the bodies and looked at the tag thereon. The curiosity became so overwhelming in his mind - about her and the doings in the mortuary - that he finally gathered the gumption to speak.

  “Who is that?” he asked aloud as he looked on.

  “Edward Jones,” said the girl without looking up. “I can't believe we have so many today. Do you think it's the start of some–”

  The girl stopped her speech as she looked up at him. Clearly, she thought she had been talking to someone else. Her hazel eyes trailed across his skin and up to his blue, curious stare.

  “Looks like one of the corpses is walking again,” she said flatly to herself.

  A warm, admiring smile formed slowly on his lips, but she stood firm, unfazed by his actions of fondness.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “You’re trespassing.”

  “I’m just a curious fellow,” he informed her, taking a few steps closer.

  “Well, Mr. Curious, I think you’ve wandered off in the wrong direction. Unless of course you have an appointment with the scalpel,” she said, holding up the shiny metal instrument that had been in her hand.

  Christian smiled wider, amused. She had quite a different sense of humor than any other girl he’d ever spoken to. The only scary thing to him was that he thought he liked it.

  “To my knowledge I don’t think it’s quite time for that yet,” he replied.

  “Pity,” she said, turning back to the body in the corridor and dismissing him from her mind.

  He watched her a few moments before letting his curiosity get the best of him again.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are you doing down here? Isn’t this Madison’s job?”

  “I work here,” she said bluntly. “Mr. Madison can’t do it all by himself.”

  “Hard work?” he asked.

  “Just rather gruesome. One has to sometimes stop for the occasional vomit.” Her eyes were daring and unafraid when she looked at him. “It’s the smell.”

  He laughed lightly and the girl continued to refuse him her smile. She was trying to disgust him - make him want to leave. He wasn't fazed.

  “You live here as well then? The place is big enough. Though I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you…”

  “I’m Mr. Madison’s daughter – his real daughter – and I don’t get out much.”

  “I see,” he said, taking note of that. Isabella and Charlotte were not related to this one, which was a mark in her favor. “I noticed who you’re living with, which still doesn’t explain what you’re doing down here. Shouldn't you be off powdering your nose or something?”

  “The pig and the mule?” she asked, to his slight laugh. “I’m not like them. I’m nothing like them. ”

  “I would say not,” he said, “but personally, I think that’s a good thing.”

  She nodded. “I’ve always thought so, yet my mere existence seems an annoyance to Anna.”

  There was silence in the hallway for a few moments as the girl simply looked back to her the cart as if she'd spoken without meaning to. Christian watched with anticipation, enjoying their exchange. He moved closer once more, very near to her now. He could smell the blood.

  “You know,” he began. “You haven’t told me your name.”

  The girl looked up with large, disapproving eyes.

  “Neither did you tell me yours,” she pointed back at him. “You - the one who is a stranger here.”

  “You tell me first,” he insisted, “and I’m not a stranger. I’m a guest. There’s a strong difference.”

  The dark-haired girl took a deep breath and then met his eyes with an annoyed look.

  “My name is Cindy,” she said. “Now leave before you see something you don't want to.”

  "Who says I don't want to?" he asked, his eyes flashing at her.

  She stared at him in disbelief, locked on his eyes.

  "You're bluffing," she accused.

  "No, I'm serious," he insisted. "I came down here for a thrill and I intend to get one. Let me see one of the bodies."

  Her stare returned to him and his heart was beating furiously within, even though his face was calm. He wasn't sure if it was for this forbidden thing or simply her that had excited him. Light from the dim day shone through a small window near the top of the hall, and Cindy eventually turned away.

  "No," she said finally. "It would be disrespectful."

  "You're terrible to me, Cindy - who likes to play with cinders." He touched the side of her face where a bit of ash had been smudged carelessly. "Whoever thought someone in this house would be a little cinder girl – as well as a butcher.”

  His tone was playfully teasing, but she seemed distressed. He could tell she wished to push his hand away, but she was helpless with the blood on her gloves. She tried to lean back instead, but it seemed half-hearted. She didn't manage to dodge his touch as it lingered against her cheek.

  "Yes, you're a horrible tease, Cinderella."

  “Did you come up with that all by yourself?” she taunted instead, enduring his touch until he’d seen fit to remove it.

  “Aren’t I clever?” he said simply with a sly look.

  She shook her head, ignoring his idiocy. “And you will tell me who you are now?”

  She had seemed ready to pull out of this conversation, but Christian could tell by the position of her feet and her continued questions that she was not ready to be done with him yet.

  “Christian Charming,” he said.

  Cindy tilted her head a moment before speaking. He saw realization come into her eyes and she suddenly became even less amiable than before.

  “Oh, you’re one of them.”
Her tone was dismissive and after she said it, she turned back toward the body that she needed to take into the mortuary, beginning to adjust the cart. Christian, however, was not willing to let her escape.

  “Them?” he questioned.

  “The last Prince Charming,” she clarified curtly. “The youngest and final son of the wealthiest family in town; the one all the young maidens think is going to carry them off to some fairytale castle in the sky. Surely you knew that about yourself.”

  Christian cast his gaze to the floor, feeling somewhat abashed by her words. That was not like him, however, and he quickly snapped out of it.

  “You don’t believe in fairytales?”

  She was not looking at him now, speaking to the wall. “Perhaps the ones with monsters. Not about a young and handsome prince…” Cindy muttered, letting the words roll off her tongue in a disgusted way.

  “You think I’m handsome?” he asked, turning it back on her quickly, casting off his feigned bashfulness.

  She shot a quick glance at him, her cheeks growing pink.

  “I didn’t say that,” she said, talking to the floor. “I was just –”

  “Admit it,” he urged her on. “You might as well say what you think. I do.”

  “I – just met you!” she sputtered. He liked that he had made her nervous. Finally he had the upper hand.

  “But that’s enough to form a first impression,” he said leadingly. “So, what do you think?”

  She lifted her eyes then, suddenly unafraid.

  “You are pompous and arrogant,” she informed him. She had a better hold on herself now, sure of what she was saying.

  “Ah well, thank you for being honest. Perhaps I am. You, on the other hand, are cold and stubborn,” he said.

  She stared into his piercing eyes with no emotion.

  “You’re also a bit morbid,” he added with a smile.

  She rolled her eyes, which almost glowed in the faint sunlight from the windows above.

  “Of course I’m morbid. However, you were the one trying to sneak into a mortuary. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a bit morbid yourself.”

  “No,” he said. “Only interested in all that is morbid.”

  “You’re presumptuous,” she accused.

  “Anti-social,” he stabbed back at her.

  “Vain.”

  “A little creepy…”

  “Shameless!”

  “And strangely beautiful.”

  This was where he had gone wrong. She did not react as he had anticipated - with a small blush and a smile, for deep down, all women could be won over by saying they were beautiful, despite what he might have thought about their other traits. Instead, Cindy glared at him angrily and shook her head, as if she could not believe he had dared.

  “Get out of here,” she said lowly, and it was as harsh as anything she had said to him thus far. She turned away. He had lost her.

  “Oh come on! What did I say?”

  “You are very egotistical, aren’t you?” she asked, whirling and crossing her arms, despite the blood.

  She was angry now. He would try to put out that fire.

  “Yes, Cinderella,” he teased. “I am what you say, and I have every right to be. I mean, look at me. But that aside, it seems you have a bit of an ego yourself. There's a bit of pride in you.” He paused for a moment and smiled. “I do like that.”

  She looked back at him with glaring eyes.

  “And you make me a nickname? You act like you’ve known me forever, teasing me like this!”

  “We can pretend, can't we?”

  Christian was curious to know what she might have said, but he didn't get the opportunity to hear it. Both of them paused as a voice was heard from the hallway above. They snapped to attention, though not removing their eyes from one another. The words were blank in their ears, but soon the doorway was opened and Cindy's father leaned his head inside.

  He looked on at the two of them standing at the bottom of the stairs a moment before venturing to speak.

  “Ah, there you are. Your carriage is ready to depart, young Mr. Charming,” he said.

  Christian nodded. “Thank you, sir,” he said cordially.

  Turning back to the girl he’d just met, he opened his mouth to speak - but he heard the sound of a closing door and found himself peering down the empty hallway. She had withdrawn herself deeper into the mortuary to escape him.

  He smiled to himself. It was clever on her part. What better way to show she had no interest in him than to not even allow a closing to the meeting? He nodded knowingly. It was a shame he couldn’t say goodbye to her personally though. Then again, perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps he was destined to never see her again. There were other queens in his deck to choose from.

  Content with what he’d seen here, Christian made his way up the stairs and exited toward the parlor where his father was stepping out the door. He made the motion to follow, but was stopped abruptly by the two bothersome Van Burren maidens. Could they not give him a single moment’s peace?

  “Christian! Where did you go?” asked Charlotte. “We were looking all over for you!”

  The girl jumped at a sharp pinch from Isabella.

  “Sorry you couldn’t stay longer, Christian,” Isabella corrected. “Or perhaps, we are sorry we missed you.”

  “Not to worry,” he assured them. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon. You’ll be at the church tomorrow, won’t you?”

  “Of course,” Isabella said.

  “Then I’ll see you at the funeral,” Christian said, desperately trying to make his way to the door.

  “Good day, Christian,” said Charlotte with a curtsey and withdrew herself into the parlor. Isabella was not so ready to give up. Christian was drawn back by a rough grip on his arm.

  “Why must you do this to me?” she demanded.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, blowing her off as he tried to leave again.

  “You know exactly what I mean!” she insisted, cornering him. “I am one hundred times more desirable than that pig!”

  Isabella pointed after her sister. Christian smiled.

  “Why do you call her pig? I never thought she was fat,” he said dumbly.

  "She's a rude mess,” Isabella said. "But it doesn't matter. Stop trying to dodge!"

  “Isabella, darling, relax,” he urged, putting his hands on her soft shoulders. “We both know the truth. You and I know that we’re the same. Since you know that we’ll probably wind up getting married anyway, will you let me leave now?”

  “You don’t mean that at all!” she whined.

  He shook his head at her.

  “You’re such an infant! Look, you know the rules. The Charming offspring have to be married by twenty-one,” he said, sliding out the door.

  “And you would pick me?” she asked, wanting assurance as she followed him out onto the porch.

  He waved his hand behind him as if she were an annoying bug.

  “Let me know if I have a better option,” he said.

  He moved down the steps, starting along the stone pathway when a thought came to him.

  “Ah yes,” he said, turning slightly back to her. “Tell Cinderella I said goodbye, won’t you? I didn’t seem to have the chance.”

  “Cinderella?” she asked in confusion.

  He laughed. “You never were the quick one, were you?”

  She scowled back at him with her sharp green eyes.

  “Cinderella,” he said again. “Your sister that doesn’t come out from the morgue. Tell her goodbye for me and that I enjoyed our chat. I suppose I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, so I won’t bother telling you the same.”

  Turning on his heels, Christian continued along down the path to the carriage, where the horses waited impatiently. He smiled after he turned from her. It was true that he was free to marry whoever he wished before he was twenty-one, but truthfully, Christian had only one idea about marriage. He believed that marriage was nothing more than ano
ther relationship that he would control. No emotion would be able to find its way inside it for him, but he would not give in to an arranged marriage as many had before him. Christian had seen it happen to so many; they were forced to marry and finally learned to love whoever they were bonded to. Not him. No love would emit from his heart or actions.

  Though he was cold and had no affection for Isabella, in truth, he saw himself marrying someone like her. That was why he had told her those things. She was someone he could manipulate – without doing it directly. She was a woman who wasn’t quick to his sarcasm. He would admit: Charlotte seemed the more agreeable, though also more desperate, but Isabella’s jealousy and anger was what made it fun for him. He found her wrath amusing, while Charlotte only complied with his every word. He wanted someone to argue with. Isabella would stay by his side forever. The way they were now was what he pictured married life to be. He would still treat her with no mercy for her ignorance, though she never seemed to realize this. If she was not turned away from him now, she would never leave.

  Still, though, his mind was filled with the girl he’d just met. Why had he never seen her before? It was a shame to keep her shut away like she was. Perhaps, were it not for that, he would have been interested in the pretty, melancholic girl. His curiosity now rested squarely with her – the young woman with the pale skin. She seemed his equal in every way, and he imagined them engaging in hours of conversation, sharing thoughts all their own, with plenty of bickering, of course. Though he thought this, his meeting her had not in any way convinced him that he would avoid his destiny or that he would not have the marriage he pictured.

  He lifted his feet to step up into the carriage as one of the footmen closed the door. His brief step away from reality had made no impact on the world, and down the hill awaited the unpleasant norm.

  4

  Isabella watched him leave silently from the step. Jealousy and anger boiled inside her. He had met Cindy? How was that possible? She was working all day in the basement. Had he snuck down to meet with her? Was that where he had been? The little tramp! There would be an end to this, Isabella vowed. It was a different thing all together than his flirtatious arrogance with her sister, Charlotte. Cindy was different… Anyone but Cindy!