Cinderella

The Child

Cedric de Casé and Emeline Beaumont met on an August day, the humid air sticking to their faces and curling their hair. Cedric spotted her before she saw him, and he openly gaped at the beauty that befell his dull blue eyes. She was in a scarlet gown that seemed to move like water against her ample curves. Her dark hair fell like silk down her back, cascading in perfect ringlets of curls that complemented her cream skin delicately. She smiled at him when she noticed his stare, and he gaped at the strange violet shade to her eyes. He knew, at that moment, that this was the woman he wanted as his bride.

The problem, it seemed, lie in the army of other suitors that appeared to have similar plans. They swarmed like bees around the exotic beauty. She was kind and gentle to the men, but it was clear by her expression that she didn't want to be at the organized party. She begged for a moment of solitude and the men complied unwillingly. Cedric positioned himself so that he stood directly behind her when she spun like a caged animal from the swarm. When she saw Cedric she recoiled, gasping for breath.

"I'm sorry," he said at once, feeling suddenly apprehensive at his forced introduction. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

The beauty shook her head, smiling slightly. "The fault is mine. I'm a bit skittish today, it would appear."

Cedric marveled at her politeness. "I was hoping that I could learn your name. I am Cedric de Casé, heir, of course, to the Casé estate and wares."

"My name is Emeline Beaumont," she told him. "Heir to nothing and daughter to less. Mistress Auréle has taken me in, the sweet old maid, and is determined that I attend every social event she can find."

Not born of wealth? Cedric could scarcely believe what he had heard. Her stature and poise spoke to the contrary. "And your parents?"

Emeline's eyes casted down. "They died when I was very young, so I've been told. I never knew them."

"I'm sorry," Cedric told her sincerely. "If it's any consolation, I was practically raised by my governess. My parents never had time for me."

Emeline seemed positively horrified, her strange violet eyes widening. "For their son? How terrible. Not that I mean any disrespect to your family, of course."

Cedric shrugged. "It is not uncommon. Father would take me hunting now and again, and Mother let me sit in while she sewed. Somehow, those have become my fondest memories of my childhood."

"A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer," said Emeline quietly, trying to explain his reasoning.

"It sings because it has a song." Cedric finished.

The pair was married in spring, and though not many attended for the beautiful Emeline, Mistress Auréle and all of Cedric's relatives were happy to supply enough enthusiasm to go around. And, when the ceremonies came to a close, Cedric gazed upon his dear Emeline as if she were an angel sent from heaven to guide him in this life. He scarcely noticed that she was looking at him exactly the same way.

Within the year, Emeline was with child and happier than ever. She was more than ready to be a mother, and Cedric to be a father. The baby was born into chaos, however, when it was proclaimed that Emeline would not survive the childbirth. She was allowed to hold her little girl before she died. Not so much could be expected of Cedric, who was weeping more than the newborn. Emeline whispered to her husband, "Let her grow beautiful and wise." and Cedric had cried and held his wife's hand until the light had gone out of her beautiful violet eyes. He refused to hold his baby, claiming that his despair was too deep, though it was obvious he blamed the child for his wife's death.

The fact that the child resembled her mother exactly was another cause for her father to resent her. Each time he glanced into her strikingly violet eyes, he remembered. For a time, he couldn't even look at his daughter. Such was the reason that he summoned his late wife's surrogate mother, Mistress Auréle.

"Cedric," she began when she shuffled into his warm quarters. "I didn't expect to hear from you again. When my dear Emma-bless her wonderful soul-passed I thought that I would be cut from your life and-unfortunately-her child."

"Actually, that was why I needed to speak with you. The girl needs a governess, someone to raise and teach her."

Mistress Auréle raised a thin eyebrow. "Isn't that your job, Cedric?"

He shook his head offhandedly. "No, no, I'm much too busy. A governess is exactly what the girl needs, I think."

"'The girl'?" Mistress scoffed. "Can you not refer to your own child by her given name?"

Cedric didn't seem to hear her, or he didn't care. He gestured to the maid that was dusting a bookshelf. "Fetch my daughter please; there is someone here I would like her to meet." The maid complied, slipping out of the room as if she had never been there. In truth, no one would notice if she hadn't; the de Casé estate was large and another maid could have easily stepped in.

Within moments there was a small disturbance at the door, and Mistress Auréle turned to see what was there. She gasped as her eyes fell upon what was surely the late Emeline de Casé. Her mind caught up with her thoughts however and she realized that not only was Emeline dead, but she was certainly not a small child.

"Mistress Auréle, this is my daughter Mariette," Cedric said, pronouncing it Mary-et. "She is approaching her fifth year, yet she speaks as much as a toddler. Perhaps her lack of speech is especially for me, for the maids always seem stunned when I bring it up."

Mistress Auréle studied the small child delicately, noticing the way the girl blushed at her stares, turning the translucent white of her cheeks rosy. She had her mother's face surely, with a few subtle differences that increased rather than decreased her beauty. She approached the girl, Mariette, slowly, like one would a wounded animal, and crouched before her.

"Hello," she said to Mariette. "My name is Cynthia Auréle-or Mistress Auréle, if you please. In a way, I was your mother's mother. Your grandmother, of a kind. I think that I am here to take care of you for a while. Is that okay?"

"Is Papa leaving?" said a small yet beautifully defined voice. Mariette seemed disconcerted by the idea.

Mistress Auréle smiled. "No, your Papa is going to stay right here. He's simply a busy man and he needs to make sure you're properly taken care of."

"Okay," said Mariette, though she seemed utterly taken aback by the idea. "Can-can you teach me how to read books like Papa?"

"If you'd like," Mistress Auréle said, though she had never heard of a child that wanted to learn how to read. "But for now, I'd like you to change out of those fancy clothes and go outside. Take no offense dear, but you look positively pasty."

"My maid, Charlotte, says that dressing nice is a necessary quality for a young woman."

Mistress smiled warmly. "You have a few years yet before you become a young woman. Why not enjoy them?"