The unwelcome fortnight passed with the same haste the tower clock had struck midnight two weeks past. And now, here Cinderella sat imprisoned with her evil stepmother and two vicious sisters, in a cramped, albeit, plush cage. She fixed her gaze on the dark paneled wall and lovely sconces. Brocaded silk draped the interior for added insulation. She huddled deep in her thin wool pelisse, using a tight fist in place of missing buttons. Her other hand was sunk deep into the pocket of her apron seeking Marcel. Her smuggled companion warmed her more than the heated bricks used to offset cool fall air.
He nudged her calloused fingers as if offering his reassurance.
Cinderella swallowed. She could only pray she did not cast up her accounts in the confines of the luxuriant royal contraption-that or cry. She focused on the heavy curtains trimmed with thick gold tatting and concentrated on the bounce of perfect matching horses as they trotted closer to Chalmers Castle.
Cinderella had yet to sleep one night without the plaguing nightmare of Esmeralda marrying Prince Charming. Her Prince. She bit back the bitter tears clogging her throat and looked out the carriage window.
"My daughter, the Princess of Chalmers." Stepmama's elation in the words chilled Cinderella to her bones. She prayed, yet again, for a miracle. At the very least, sustaining stomach. The sustaining stomach shouldn't prove too difficult since she'd not had much in the way of sustenance. She tugged her gaze from the passing landscape of bright colored foliage risking a glance to her arch enemy, Esmeralda. The effort to keep her face bland was excruciating.
"Maman, s'il vous plait," Esmeralda breathed.
Esmeralda did seem rather terrified, but Cinderella knew it was just an act. She'd seen it time and time again through the years; from both Pricilla and Esmeralda. Consummate actresses-both of them. Cinderella's resentments ran too deep to harbor much in the way of sympathy.
Esmeralda's downcast eyes beat as rapid as the wings of a…a…flying monkey! Cinderella bit back a derisive snort that would have more than likely earned her being bodily tossed from the carriage. She could just make out a pale strain of white around Esmeralda's mouth. Esmeralda certainly had no trouble playing up the fear.
Across, Stepmama reclined on the leather upholstered bench her focus on Esmeralda. Unfortunately for Esmeralda, Stepmama did not care for Esmeralda's batting eyes one bit. Poor little Essie. If she had not taken to snatching Prince from Cinderella's grasp, she might have been inclined to feel more empathy towards Esmeralda. Cinderella knew all too well the detriment of her stepsister's position. In any event, Stepmama had never treated her own daughters with anything less than pampered favor.