Five Glass Slippers: A Collection of Cinderella Stories by Elisabeth Brown & Emma Clifton & Rachel Heffington & Stephanie Ricker & Clara Diane Thompson

Author:Elisabeth Brown & Emma Clifton & Rachel Heffington & Stephanie Ricker & Clara Diane Thompson [Brown, Elisabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rooglewood Press
Published: 2014-06-08T21:00:00+00:00

11

The night of the Prince’s birthday had arrived. The night on which I had long planned to steal his crown. In a way, I’d still be stealing the crown, as after tonight there would be no Prince Auguste. I would kidnap and “murder” my love, and we’d flee the country forever, taking up residence in some foreign chateau where Auguste could have the trappings of his idealistic life and I a prince if not a throne.

I laid out the gown I had ordered from the tailor and his wife and called for Lord Humphries’s maid, Jane, to help me fasten the multitude of stiff petticoats and rustling tulle that comprised the under-layers of the concoction. After wrestling the under-things in place, I wriggled into the gown; Jane laced the stays and the ribbons that held the back of it together while I sucked in my waist.

I rustled to the dressing table and tried to sit in the little red chair before the mirror. After a futile attempt, I knew there would be no sitting for me in this costume and wondered if it would impair my escape. Jane gave me a long look and, before I could stop her, had taken the pins from my bun and let loose my mane.

“Jane, what are you doing?” I grabbed my hair in both hands, unused to seeing the waves of it crowding my face, though my reflection looked unusually pretty, I thought.

“You’re not going to th’ball with a topknot, Lady Alis.” And, with a few deft movements, Jane coiled my hair into an elegant, twisting mass on the back of my head. She tucked something into the coils and handed me a mirror. “There y’are. Clean up nicely, don’t you?”

“Bless you, Jane.” I kissed her cheek and squeezed her arm in my abundant gratitude.

“One would suspect she had never touched a dishpan in her life,” Lord Humphries said in a voice thrilling with amusement.

My heart galloped and I turned to greet him. His arrival had kicked off the faint sense of girlish satisfaction attending preparation for my first party. “I’ve kept you waiting.”

“You have.” He held out his arm, which I took. “By Jove, woman. You’re a raving beauty.” But even this light-handed flattery could not still the roiling of my nerves.

“Is all well?”

“All is ready,” he said with a grunt. “You know the prospects of success.”

The ride to the palace was quiet and uneasy, punctuated only by gruff remarks and instructions from my uncle as to exactly what I was to do and how we were to get Auguste away from the party. We were to make our move at midnight, just before the proclamation of his Accession. If all went as planned, the gathered well-wishers would discover the pool of blood on the balcony at a quarter past twelve.

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