Cinderella’s
Stepmother
Once upon a time there was a woman who had two daughters.
This woman was arrogant and proud, and quite convinced that her daughters were the most beautiful girls in all the land. Her name was Sophia Deghant and her daughters were called Miriam and Genevieve.
The two daughters were very bossy. If they did not get their way at once, they would shriek so loudly that the entire household would hurry to do what the girls wanted just to make them shut up. Sophia was out calling on other high-class people, like herself, or attending dinners or balls most of the time. Miriam and Genevieve always behaved like perfect angels whenever their mother was around, and the servants didn’t dare to tell Madam Deghant that her jewels were not as precious as she believed them to be. One servant had been foolish enough to try to explain to Madam Sophia Deghant that her little angels were really little devils: she had been beaten and then fired. Mademoiselles Miriam and Genevieve had laughed behind delicately manicured hands.
Monsieur Deghant was high in the favor with the kingdom’s monarchs and this gave his wife and daughters still higher opinions of themselves than ever. Madam Deghant schemed to marry one of her daughters off to the crown prince of the realm, who was only a year older than Miriam and two years older than Genevieve.
After Monsieur Deghant’s death the royal family forgot about the Deghants. Very often the Deghants were no longer remembered on royal guest lists for balls.
Sophia realized that her hope and dream of making one of her daughters queen was about to be lost. There was only one thing left to do.
Sophia threw a grand ball at her house to which she invited all of the people who were high in favor at Court. At the ball she noticed that one man, a duke, was keeping to himself. Sophia watched him for a good part of the evening. Halfway through the ball Madam Deghant approached the duke.
“Your Grace,” said she, with a deep curtsy. And the two began to talk.
It was not many months before Sophia managed to convince Duke Henry Adron that she was in love with him, and that he was in love with her. Soon they were married amid great festivities.
Once again Sophia, now Duchess Adron, was called to tea with the queen. She was once again on all of the royal guest lists. Once again her goal was in sight. There was only one obstacle.
Sophia’s new husband was a widower. He had, by his first wife, a daughter who was about the same age as Miriam and Genevieve. The beautiful Eleanor Adron was only a year and a half younger than her best friend, Alessandro, the crown prince.
Well, Sophia had no intention of losing sight of her goal for a second time. She decided that Eleanor should become a servant and she made it the girl’s special task to attend Miriam and Genevieve.
“The bothersome little wretch is continually getting in my way, dear,” the duchess explained to her husband. “Such work will keep her out from underfoot.”
By that time the duke was completely under his new wife’s spell and he made no arguments about the work his once-cherished daughter was being forced to do.
Miriam and Genevieve started calling Eleanor “Cindersoot” or “Cinderwench” to mock her. Sophia, who wasn’t really trying to be cruel (she only wanted to see her real daughters happy), called the girl Cinderella.
A year later Sophia decided she ought to forbid her stepdaughter to see the prince.
Sophia spoke to her husband one day about her new plan. “Dear, that blasted, no-good daughter of yours is always running off to the palace to see the prince when she should be working. I know she only does it to spite me,” Sophia made a sad face that she had been working on all day. She forced her voice to sound hurt, “I don’t think she likes me at all, and all I ever do is love her, as a mother ought.”
“Of course, darling,” replied the duke, patting her arm sympathetically. “I understand. Would you like me to speak to her?”
“Would you?” Sophia could smell success.
“I would do anything for you,” Duke Henry said with a smile.
Two years later the duke and the duchess threw a magnificent ball in honor of Miriam’s fifteenth birthday. The year after they threw another grand ball to honor Genevieve on her fifteenth birthday. Nothing was done for Eleanor’s coming-of-age.
“It won’t be long now,” Sophia told herself every night when she went to sleep.
When she woke in the morning she whispered to herself, “Soon, very soon.”
One day, when Sophia and her daughters were having tea in the Red Parlor they heard horses coming up the drive. Then they heard a loud, booming knock at the main door.
“Go see who it is, Cindersoot,” Miriam snapped at her stepsister, who was dusting the bookshelves at the back of the room.
“Yes, Mademoiselle,” Eleanor muttered, heading for the door.
“Wretch!” Genevieve screeched. “Curtsy when you address your betters, and speak more politely! Do not mutter!”
“Genevieve, dear!” Sophia exclaimed, much surprised. “Do not raise your voice like that! It isn’t becoming of a young lady who may be destined to be the prince’s bride.”
“Yes, Mama,” Genevieve murmured, sounding properly ashamed. “I shan’t do it again. Only don’t be angry.”
“Very good, sweet,” Duchess Adron smiled, “and I’m sorry I got upset.”
“Now do as you were told!” Miriam snapped at Eleanor, who had been inching towards the door.
The raggedy girl sighed, curtsied, and said clearly, “Yes, my lady.” Then she reached to open the door.
But before she had touched the handle, the door flew open and one of the other maids stood, gasping for breath, in the doorway, a rolled up piece of parchment clutched in her hand.
The sound of hoof beats could be heard again.
“What is it, Louise?” Sophia asked, shocked. “Whatever is the matter?”
Louise couldn’t speak, she could only wave the parchment weakly.
“Bring it here, girl!” Genevieve commanded.
Eleanor took the roll from Louise and handed it to Sophia.
Sophia turned it over to open it, feeling the silky parchment beneath her fingers and wondering who had sent such a fine thing. It had to be special, judging by the shape that silly maid was in! She glanced at the seal, and gasped. It was from the king! She would know that heavy golden seal anywhere.
She had felt something that morning when she had woken up. This day was going to be special. She just hoped that what she held in her hand wasn’t an invitation to the prince’s wedding.
No! She must not think of such things! Her dream for her daughters would come true! One of her daughters would marry the prince and become queen. Her daughters would be rich and happy for all the rest of their days. They would not have to live their lives always hoping for a better place in life for themselves and their daughters. They would have all they needed. And more.
Carefully, with trembling fingers, she broke the seal. Slowly she opened the scroll and began to read. Then she gave a great sigh of relief.
“Come look, my girls!” she cried with excitement. “Our dreams have finally been answered!”
Miriam and Genevieve rushed over to their mother’s chair and read the invitation over her shoulder.
“A royal invitation to a masked ball!” Genevieve squealed.
“A ball for the prince to choose his bride!” Miriam gasped at the same moment.
“Oh, I can’t wait!” Eleanor, who had also read the letter, sighed.
“You aren’t going!” Miriam snapped with annoyance.
“Everyone would laugh to see a Cinderwench at a royal ball!” Genevieve added, giggling.
“But it says that all of the ladies of the Ducal House of Adron are invited,” Eleanor protested. “And Duke Henry Adron is, after all, my father!”
Sophia sat frozen. If Eleanor went to the ball, all of her careful planning would be ruined. The prince would certainly fall in love with her, since the two had been so close when they were children, and the wretched girl was indeed very beautiful. But she could not just refuse to let the girl go. The idiot wench had indeed been right to say that she was invited as well…
Then Sophia got an idea.
“Of course she may go,” Sophia said silkily.
“What?” all three girls said at once.
“She is, after all, a lady of the House of Adron.”
“Mother!” Sophia’s daughters gasped indignantly.
Sophia thought Eleanor looked smug.
“But,” Sophia went on.
Eleanor’s face fell.
“If you want to go to the ball, girl, you must be perfectly good. You must make your own gown, for I shan’t waste my money on a wretch like you, and you must help my daughters prepare. And you must complete all of the other chores I assign you before then. Is that quite understood?” Nothing was going to take away that crown from Sophia’s daughters, not when she was so close.
“Yes, your grace,” Eleanor curtsied.
“Very good,” Sophia said, rising to her feet. “Now, off we go to decide what to wear!” and she swept out of the parlor and up the stairs to the bedchambers, her daughters in tow, leaving Louise and Eleanor to clean up the tea things. That had gone splendidly. Sophia smiled to herself. She could almost taste the wedding cake.
* * * * *
The next week nothing except the balls was discussed in the house. Eleanor did everything she was told. And every time the dratted girl completed a new task, Sophia fumed. The little brat had even found the time to make a gown for herself!
The day of the ball arrived. Preparations began immediately after breakfast. Sophia and her daughters took long, perfumed baths. They had servants running every-which-way. Finally they were elegantly dressed and waiting by the door for the carriage that was going to take them to the palace.
Eleanor was still in her rags, but if Sophia didn’t do something quickly, she knew the stupid girl would get to the ball somehow.
“Eleanor, dear,” she purred as the coach pulled up outside the door. “I have one last little task for you.”
“Yes, your grace?” Eleanor gritted.
“You must scrub out the entire cellar before we return.”
Eleanor gaped in amazement and anger. The cellar was huge and filthy.
“I’ll inspect it when I come home, dear. See you at the ball!” she laughed as she closed the door and climbed into the carriage. Now there was no way the brat could ruin Sophia’s plans.
At the ball everything was going according to plan as well. Prince Alessandro danced several times with both Miriam and Genevieve.
Then disaster struck.
Sophia, scrutinizing the prince’s dancing partners, recognized Eleanor’s white silk ball gown. She wasn’t wearing a mask. The wretch had managed to get to the ball after all!
The prince whispered something in the girl’s ear.
This had to stop.
The clock started to chime twelve.
Sophia marched towards her stepdaughter and the prince.
Eleanor saw Sophia coming. She dropped the prince’s hand and fled. Prince Alessandro sped after her. Sophia was not far behind.
Sophia saw Eleanor trip on the stairs, then gain her footing again. As soon as Eleanor was steady, she was off once more, but she had lost one of her slippers.
The next day Sophia was sitting again with her daughters in the parlor. Eleanor was in the cellar, scrubbing.
Horses were coming up the drive. Someone banged on the front door. A moment later a servant opened the parlor door. There, in the doorway, stood the prince and his retinue.
Sophia and her daughters rose and curtsied gracefully.
The prince beckoned one of his servants forward. The servant carried Eleanor’s lost slipper on a blue velvet pillow. “This is Lady Eleanor Adron’s slipper,” the prince said, lifting the shoe gently to show Sophia, Miriam, and Genevieve. He placed it very carefully back on the pillow, and continued. “It will fit her, no matter what disguise she is in. Every maid must try it on until I find her. I know that Ella is the only one whose foot it will fit properly. When I find her, I will make her my bride.”
Sophia shot a look at her daughters. It would be a long shot, but this was their last chance. Sophia’s brat of a stepdaughter couldn’t really be the only one the shoe would fit. Could she?
Miriam caught her mother’s look and gasped. “That’s my slipper!” she cried.
“Try it,” the prince offered.
Miriam sat and removed her own slipper. The servant knelt beside her and tried to put the shoe on Miriam’s foot. The shoe was too small.
Sophia saw the Eleanor standing in the doorway. She shot the girl a venomous glare, which Eleanor ignored. Sophia nudged Genevieve, her last hope.
“I had a slipper just like that,” Genevieve said. “I lost it.”
“Try it,” the prince repeated.
Genevieve sat and pulled off her shoe. The servant slipped the slipper on her foot. The shoe was too big.
“May I try it?” Eleanor asked from the doorway.
The prince turned, and his eyes lighted up as they fell on his friend. “Of course,” he said.
Eleanor sat. She was already barefoot.
Sophia gave a strangled cry. She could barely breathe. It felt like someone was gripping her throat.
Her cry was ignored.
The servant slid the shoe onto Eleanor’s foot. It fit perfectly.
“Ella,” the prince whispered. He leaned toward Sophia’s stepdaughter.
Sophia gave another cry, trying to draw in air, and everything went black.
A/N: To e-mail me (reviews etc.), click the link below.