Five Glass Slippers: A Collection of Cinderella Stories Read online

  But he paused before he’d gone two steps, his ears perking at the sound of a familiar name.

  “Yes, Miss Abendroth and a cook! Or maybe it was a footman. It doesn’t matter. I have it on the best authority!”

  The queen’s voice now, fainter. Frederick strained to hear. “And whose authority would that be?”

  “One of the maids told one of Sir Humphrey’s footmen, I think, and he told Nurse Linnet who was caring for his wife, and she told Countess Laroche, that sniveling invalid,”— Frederick smirked; it was well-known that the two old women had been determined rivals for nearly forty years—“and she can’t keep a secret, so she blabbed it at her luncheon today, and Lady Allistra told me.”

  “So it’s an unfounded rumor, Lady Lloyd?” The queen’s quiet voice held disapproval.

  Behind the door, Lady Lloyd sniffed disdainfully. “Rumors are never unfounded, Your Majesty. They may not be completely accurate, but there is always a foundation.”

  “Until there is proof that Miss Abendroth has indeed eloped, I would prefer you not to speculate on the matter,” Frederick’s mother said firmly.

  Eloped? Arella? What utter nonsense! Arella wouldn’t—

  Frederick’s stomach dropped as he recalled the abrupt way Duchess Germaine had cancelled their dinner invitation last night. He turned on his heel and ran back to the stables. “A horse, now!”

  10

  A knock at the door interrupted Drusilla’s fruitless attempt at sewing. “Come in,” she called. Could it be news of Arella?

  A maid curtseyed. “Company in the parlor, ma’am. It’s the prince again.”

  “Oh no,” Drusilla moaned before she could catch herself. She restored her composure and looked calmly at the maid. “Is Mother still out?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “I shall be right down.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” The maid bobbed again and left.

  Drusilla closed her eyes and tried to keep herself calm. Of all people she didn’t want to see at the moment, Prince Frederick was highest on the list. With Mother gone to seek her brother’s help finding Arella, Drusilla and Anastasia would have to face the prince by themselves. And Anastasia wasn’t readily available, so that left . . . Drusilla.

  She took a deep breath and descended to the parlor.

  “Prince Frederick.” Drusilla gave a formal curtsey.

  “Miss Bessette,” Frederick replied, hastily rising from the chair he had been sitting in. Drusilla noticed that his hands were clenched and his face, though calm, was strained. “I . . . came to inquire after your sister. Miss Arella. She is . . . well?” His anxious eyes searched hers.

  Drusilla felt pity for him. Obviously he’s heard rumors. No use trying to keep it hidden.

  “Arella,” she began slowly, “is . . . not here at the present.”

  Frederick’s face paled. “Is it true?” he asked in a low voice. “Has she run away?”

  The poor man. It’s almost as hard for him as it is for us. Drusilla nodded. “She left sometime before yesterday morning.”

  “With . . . with a servant?”

  “One of the stable hands, Your Highness.”

  Frederick slumped back into the chair and hid his face in his hands. Drusilla watched helplessly. He looked up after a minute. “Have you heard from her?”

  “Not yet, Your Highness. My mother sent out men, but Arella’s location has yet to be discovered. My mother is with my uncle, asking him for advice and help.”

  “Of course,” Frederick replied. His face had gone completely blank. They were both silent.

  “I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Drusilla said quietly. “I know you were attached to her.”

  Frederick looked at her with hollow, pain-filled eyes. “I loved her. But . . . she never loved me.” His voice broke. After a moment he continued with a bitter smile. “You knew that she didn’t, that she never would. I believe you tried to warn me this would happen.” He stood and strode to the window. “I suppose this means you won our little bet.”

  “I never dreamed Arella would do something like this. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he replied, turning to face her again. “It’s not your fault. None of it’s your fault. It’s all mine. I should have respected her wishes and left her alone instead of driving her to . . . this.”

  “It’s no more your fault than it is mine, Your Highness,” Drusilla replied. “Arella made her own choices.”

  Frederick sank into a chair again. “And she chose to run away with a servant.”

  Drusilla opened her mouth but changed her mind. What was there to say? Instead, she simply sat. They passed several moments in silence.

  Finally Frederick looked up. “I suppose I’m not needed here.”

  “We’re just waiting for some word, Your Highness,” Drusilla said. “But . . . you may stay and wait with us if it comforts you.”

  He looked at her hesitantly. “You won’t mind if I stay a while? I won’t be in the way? I know I’m not doing anything . . . but I feel closer to her here.”

  “I understand, Your Highness. Please make yourself at home. If there’s anything I can do or get for you, simply say the word.”

  “No, no, don’t bother yourself. Please. I would just like to wait with you.”

  Drusilla nodded. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

  The duchess returned late in the afternoon and found Drusilla and Frederick still sitting in the parlor, Drusilla with her sewing again, Frederick absentmindedly stroking the kitten that had climbed into his lap. All three startled when she entered the room, and the kitten leaped from Frederick’s lap and slipped under his chair, where it set to washing its face.

  “Any news, Mother?” Drusilla asked anxiously.

  Germaine paused, noticing the prince. Then she indicated a letter in her hand. “Arella sends a note.”

  Drusilla jumped up, hand outstretched. “May I read it?”

  The duchess handed it to her wordlessly. Drusilla fumbled to unfold it and scanned the lines. Frederick stood by while she read.

  Finishing the note, Drusilla took a deep breath. “So. That’s that?”

  The duchess nodded slowly. “It appears so.”

  Drusilla read the paper again, more slowly. Frederick cleared his throat. She turned to him in surprise. “Oh yes. Your Highness.” Drusilla looked at her mother. The duchess, not knowing how much he knew, hesitated.

  “Arella writes? She is . . . married?” he inquired.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” the duchess answered. “She was married yesterday.”

  “Would you care to read it?” Drusilla offered the note to the prince.

  He took it but hesitated. “You don’t mind if I see it?”

  “You are feeling as hurt as we are,” Drusilla replied. The duchess nodded. Frederick unfolded the paper.

  Dear Stepmother, Drusilla, and Anastasia, it read, I married Alfie this morning. We are going to live near his family in Finch-under-Clay, and we are very happy together.

  I hope and pray most earnestly that you will not hold this against me. I know that my marriage did not start conventionally, and I know that you will perhaps face some criticism. I can say only that I hope you can forgive me for the hurt I caused, and I hope you will allow me to continue corresponding. If you would rather not, I understand.

  Much love,

  Arella Stone

  “Well,” Frederick said as he finished reading the brief letter, his face a mask. “I suppose that settles that. Is there anything we can do for them?”

  “I think not, Your Highness,” the duchess replied. “I shall write back—naturally we don’t want to ostracize her—but I think they must be on their own now, at least for a while.”

  “To be sure,” the prince assented. He glanced down at the paper in his hand again and let his eye rest on the signature. Arella Stone. So plain, so strange, so final! It could have been Princess Arella d’Arceneau. But it wasn’t.

  Frederick took a breath and for
ced himself to remain composed. He refolded Arella’s letter and handed it to the duchess. “I believe I must be going,” he remarked as calmly as he could. His manner fooled neither woman.

  “Of course, Your Highness,” the duchess assented. “And please allow me to apologize for the way you have been treated in this sad situation.”

  “No, please, don’t apologize,” he replied, swallowing hard. “I hope Miss Arella—er, Mrs. Stone—will have a happy and prosperous life with her . . . with her new husband. Thank you for allowing me to stay so long. Good day.”

  Drusilla’s heart ached for the forlorn prince as he left the room. If only he hadn’t been so stubborn in pursuing Arella! If only Arella hadn’t been so shy.

  Drusilla shook her head. Such meditations were worthless now. All she could do was pray that Frederick would be able to find someone who reciprocated his love.

  11

  “Did you see the way he looked at me when I told him I was already engaged for the waltz?” Anastasia asked, her face wreathed with delighted smiles. “I think he likes me!”

  Drusilla smiled at her excited sister. “Making him just one more on an increasingly long list,” she replied. “The question is, do you like him?”

  Anastasia blushed. “Well, maybe a little. He’s such a gentleman, and so nice, and so handsome! And he isn’t just a gentleman in company, either. Why, just the other day Eloise told me that—”

  These interesting confessions were interrupted by a maid bearing a note. “For you, ma’am.” She curtseyed to Drusilla.

  “Thank you, Mary.” Picking up the note, Drusilla’s brow puckered. That looks like the royal seal . . . but why would anyone from the palace write to me? She quickly broke the wax seal and scanned the contents of the letter.

  “I’ve been summoned to the palace,” she said, blinking in surprise.

  Anastasia’s jaw dropped. “Whatever for? When? By the queen?”

  “I don’t know why, whenever it is convenient for me, and by . . . Prince Frederick.”

  “The prince?” Anastasia’s jaw miraculously found a way to open wider. “What on earth could he want?”

  “I have no idea,” Drusilla said. “But I believe this summons is scarcely one I can put off.” She rose to go, thinking aloud. “I’ll tell Mother . . . I suppose I’ll need to change. One goes to the palace by carriage at a time like this, I believe.”

  She stopped and turned at the door, smiling mischievously at her sister. “But, when I get back, I still expect a full report of everything Eloise told you about the gentlemanliness of this young man!”

  Duchess Germaine looked up from the letter she was writing. “Yes?”

  Drusilla entered the sitting room and handed her mother the letter from the castle. “Prince Frederick would like me to call on him at my earliest convenience.”

  Duchess Germaine looked surprised. “The prince? At the palace?” She looked at her eldest daughter in confusion. “Do you know why?”

  “I have no idea!” Drusilla replied. “We haven’t seen him since the day Arella sent that letter, and that’s three weeks ago. What could he want?”

  The duchess read and re-read the note. “I suppose the only way to find out is to go as he requests.” She surveyed her daughter critically. “Put on your blue visiting dress, but leave your hair like it is. I shall order the carriage.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Drusilla submitted. But inside, her mind was awhirl. What on earth could he want?

  Prince Frederick stood courteously as the butler showed Drusilla into his study. “Miss Bessette! Thank you for coming,” he said, bowing over her hand. “Please, take a seat.”

  They exchanged formal small talk as Frederick resumed his chair and studied the woman sitting across from him. She didn’t look uncomfortable, even though he knew that his note must have come as a surprise. But Drusilla always had an ease of manner, no matter the situation.

  “I suppose you are wondering why I asked you to come here today,” Frederick said.

  “I’ll admit I am a little curious, Your Highness.” Drusilla smiled. “It isn’t every day one is summoned to wait upon the crown prince.”

  Frederick grinned. “And it’s a good thing, too. One would find it rather boring.”

  “Indeed?” Drusilla laughed. “All those years of education, and you are a boring conversationalist? Your mother must be disappointed.”

  Frederick shook his head woefully. “Can’t live up to everybody’s expectations, you know.” Then, turning serious, he added, “But that is actually why I wanted to speak to you.”

  If Drusilla was confused, she didn’t show it. She merely waited for the prince to go on.

  He cleared his throat. “You know that I held a ball some time ago in order to find a suitable bride.”

  Drusilla nodded.

  “At which task I failed.” Frederick drummed his fingers on his desk and smiled wryly. “My royal mother gave me a firm upbraiding yesterday for my still-unattached state and instructed me to remedy the situation as soon as possible. However,” he glanced at Drusilla, “I have no idea what to do. Which is where you come in.”

  “I, Your Highness?”

  “Yes. You may remember a similar conference we held some weeks ago regarding your sister.”

  Drusilla remembered that interview quite well.

  “In light of recent circumstances,” Frederick continued, “I have come to realize that you demonstrated a goodly amount of wisdom that day. And I need some wisdom now. You see . . .” he paused, considering. “Mother isn’t the sort of person to give advice. Not personal advice, anyway. And Father told me to just pick someone, which wasn’t exactly helpful. So I thought, given your good sense, perhaps you could advise me as to what course I should take now that, uh, my original plan fell through.”

  Prince Frederick is asking me for marriage advice. Drusilla took a deep, calming breath. He looked at her expectantly, waiting. She struggled to put her thoughts in order, hoping her voice sounded somewhat normal when she responded.

  “I thank you, Your Highness, for this compliment. However, I must confess that I am not exactly sure what you would like me to say.”

  “Just . . . tell me what you think I should do. Whom to choose,” he said, a note of pleading in his voice. “I don’t know how to go about this bride-selecting business.”

  He’s completely serious, she realized. He needs help. Oh dear. But she maintained her composure with masterful care and said simply, “I believe, Your Highness, that you already know what you need to do.”

  “I need to find someone to marry,” he replied. “How do I do that? I didn’t do well the first time I tried.”

  Drusilla waited a moment before answering. “Your Highness,” she began, making certain her tone was respectful, “why did you choose my stepsister?”

  “I fell in love with her.”

  “What made you fall in love with her?”

  “Arella was perfect. Beautiful. Unlike any girl I’d ever seen.”

  “And?”

  He looked at her in surprise. “And what?”

  “What else?”

  “What else? I don’t know. I didn’t need to know anything else. I think I loved her as soon as I saw her.”

  Drusilla was quiet.

  “This reminiscing will hardly help, I think,” Frederick objected in frustration. I need to find someone new. Not think about Arella. Arella! Mrs. Stone, now . . .

  “Your Highness,” Drusilla continued, ignoring the prince’s last comment, “you had no reason to marry my stepsister besides the fact that she was uncommonly beautiful?”

  “Of course that’s not why I wanted to marry her! I already said I loved her. Surely you saw that!”

  “But you only loved her for her beauty.”

  Frederick stopped, aghast. Had this woman really just dared to accuse him of loving Arella for so base a reason? Had she really just insinuated he was that shallow?

  And worse, was his heart agreeing with her condemnati
on?

  Drusilla’s heart thudded uncomfortably. Perhaps that had been a little too harsh. Still, he had asked her opinion, hadn’t he?

  Stupid girl. Her mind raced. One doesn’t just tell the prince what one actually thinks! Too late now. Drusilla forced herself to meet the prince’s gaze steadily.

  The silence lingered awkwardly. Frederick cleared his throat. “Miss Bessette,” he said stiffly, “I fail to see how this conversation pertains to the question I asked you.”

  “Your Highness, you described your first choice as a failure. Perhaps, in order to make a better second choice, you need to discover why your first didn’t succeed.”

  Her humble tone did little to ease the pain Frederick felt upon hearing her words. This is not exactly the kind of advice I expected, he thought in frustration.

  But maybe it’s the kind you need, another part of him prompted

  “So,” he ventured to say. “What do you think I need to do now?”

  Drusilla smiled. “I think you need to be honest with yourself, Your Highness.” Frederick stared at her moodily. She continued. “Just as you are more than a title, so must your queen be.”

  He waited for something else. “That’s all you can offer me?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid so, Your Highness.” Drusilla rose to go.

  He eyed her for a moment and then nodded. Rising and bowing graciously, he said, “Very well. And I do thank you, Miss Bessette, for doing me the honor of speaking with me today.”

  “I’m only sorry I could not be more helpful, Your Highness.”

  The prince watched her go with a sigh. Well, that didn’t go exactly as planned. But what had he planned, anyhow? For some reason, asking Drusilla’s advice had seemed like a very good idea earlier. Frederick supposed he’d thought she could tell him which girl on his long list would be the best.

  I guess I’m on my own. He stared down at the paper in front of him. Written in his mother’s stately hand, it was the list she had prepared for him before his ball.