“Good. I wanted to talk to you about the living arrangements. Specifically, yours and Alexandre’s.” She looked at me, waiting for a response. I managed to nod, and she continued.
“It isn’t right that Severine has such a large bedchamber compared with Alexandre’s. Sisters should be equal, after all. So, I was thinking, if you didn’t mind of course, that Alexandre should have the room you’re in now. To make things fair.”
“You want Alexandre and me to switch rooms?”
“Oh no. Chérie, no. Alexandre’s current room is barely more than a closet. I need somewhere to store my dresses. That room will do.”
“But where would I go?”
“Like I said, sisters deserve to be treated equally. It wouldn’t be fair to stick you in a tiny closet, would it? No. The attic, though, is quite large enough. Perfectly on par with Severine’s and Alexandre’s rooms.”
“The attic?” It was so hot in the summer and would freeze come winter, no place to live, surely. Even Elodie had a cozy nook that was warmed by the nearby kitchen.
I must have looked ridiculous, staring at her blankly, responding with a two-word question. Lady Catherine was smiling like Severine did, wearing the sweetest of expressions while saying the most terrible things.
“Yes, ma chérie. The attic. Won’t it be lovely? Such a large space all your own, with so much privacy. You’ll have great fun up there, I’m sure. I’ll have those little servants of yours help you move your things before they go.”
“What about Elodie?”
“The seamstress? Oh, she is very talented. She may stay.”
But Claudine and Marius were being sent away. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I willed them away. I didn’t want to cry in front of Lady Catherine. She was looking at me like I was a silly child who needed to be condescended to, and crying would only prove her right.
“And now that said servants have been taken care of, I’m sure you’ll do your part to take care of this house, won’t you? Especially since your father’s accounts were not as robust as I had believed. Why, he was barely solvent! The sale of the country estate only paid his debts! Truly all he had was his good name. Thus, we need to conserve,” Lady Catherine said, rising from her seat and giving me a few sharp pats on the cheek. “Anyway, what does a woman need a house full of servants for when she has an enterprising stepdaughter to help her? I know your father would be very proud of you for taking on so much responsibility. And of course it is out of the question to have Alexandre and Severine perform any chores. They must keep up at court and school.”
Lady Catherine left the sitting room, her rose-scented perfume lingering in the room long after she had gone. The tears began to flow freely now. After Maman had died, Papa was always there to take care of me. And now he was gone, and I was an orphan in a house that didn’t even belong to me. It was clear from her words that I had no place here. She had sent Claudine away and now Marius. What if one day she tried to send Elodie away as well?
Without them, I would have no one. I would be entirely alone.
One Year Later
Cinder
Evil is unspectacular and always human,
And shares our bed and eats at our own table.
—W. H. Auden, “Herman Melville”
Chapter Eleven
My sixteenth birthday came and went, and the only person who remembered was me. Elodie had been away for a week, visiting relatives in the country. I was all alone. To be honest, I expected it to be forgotten, but it still stung. On my last birthday, not long before we moved to Versailles, Papa had surprised me with a brand-new dress—a beautiful blue-striped one with red laces running up the bodice, as well as a silver comb studded with pearls, and candied lemon peels from the palace. This year, I hadn’t expected anything so extravagant. A simple “happy birthday” would have been enough.
But Lady Catherine, Alexandre, and Severine didn’t know it was my birthday. They’d never bothered to ask when it was.
My chest ached when I thought of Papa. I wasn’t crying constantly anymore, like I did the first few months after he died, alone in my attic room. But even now, a year later, that bone-deep ache never really eased. Even the memory of my last birthday was tainted by the pain.
I missed him. Desperately. Papa was never coming back, and Lady Françoise had abandoned me. All I had in the name of family was Lady Catherine and my stepsisters. And they weren’t much of a family. With them, my life was an unending parade of servitude, trapped in the home that should have been mine with people who didn’t care one whit about me. I wasn’t going to live my entire life bending to the whims of my stepfamily. That was why I had to get away from them. At any cost.
I’d written to Claudine, who urged me to find some kind of peace with my stepmother, saying that I would only receive my inheritance if Lady Catherine allowed it.
“Cendrillon! It’s suppertime. You’re late!” Lady Catherine said, yelling up the attic stairs, as if she could tell I was thinking poorly of her.
Maman’s old rocking chair creaked underneath me as I got to my feet. My brief respite was over. I grabbed a blue ribbon from my old cracked ribbon box and tied up my hair to get it off my neck. The attic was stiflingly warm and the air stagnant. The one small window overlooking the château’s front lawn not nearly big enough to do more than let in the lightest of breezes and the tiniest stream of light. The temperature in the attic was entirely dependent on the weather. In the summer, the blue slates of the roof trapped the heat inside, making the room like an oven. As spring slowly turned to summer, I tried to spend as much time outside as possible. In the winter, the wind’s icy fingers crept in through cracks, sending the temperature plummeting. Without a fireplace, I had to rely on a massive pile of blankets as I slept. Comparable with Alexandre’s and Severine’s room indeed.
I didn’t have much in the way of belongings in my attic chambers. Amongst broken bits of furniture and old chests unopened in years that I’d shoved into the corners, I’d pushed my bed underneath the window, next to a small side table with my ribbon box, and a chest for my clothing at the foot of the bed. And of course, my mother’s mirror hung on the wall in the spot where the light streamed in most during the day. The rest of my furniture remained in what was now Alexandre’s room.
I had also managed to find Maman’s rocking chair in the attic, which was a wonderful surprise. It was comforting to have another connection to her in this lonely place.
The château was old, so the attic stairs and floors groaned at the slightest whisper of a footstep. If anyone approached without announcing themselves, I would know. It was a nonsensical worry, to be sure. Lady Catherine and Severine would never set foot in the attic, and Alexandre wouldn’t, either, for fear of incurring her mother’s anger, but I appreciated the privacy. If there was one decent thing about the attic, it was that I could escape from the constant demands of my stepmother and stepsisters without fear that they would follow. Lady Catherine might call up the stairs, but she would never enter.