It was horribly rude to spy on them, but my legs were sore, making it terribly inconvenient to walk all the way back to the road. Besides, I wanted to be sure that Elodie was happy, that Alexandre was good for her. A little spying in the interest of a friend was justified, right? Elodie complained that I worried too much, but how could I not? She’d done so much to care for me, looking out for her in return was the least I could do.
“Alexandre? Where are you? Your lessons are starting right now. Severine is already in the study,” Lady Catherine called from inside the house, her voice growing louder as she approached the kitchen door.
Alexandre pushed Elodie away, hard, then spun around to face her mother, hands clasped primly behind her back.
“I’m coming, Mère. I’ll be inside in a moment.”
“No, I want you inside now. You’re already late.” Lady Catherine appeared in the doorway and leaned out to speak with Alexandre.
“Is that the seamstress just there behind you? What is she doing outside when she should be working?” Lady Catherine asked, speaking to her daughter and ignoring Elodie entirely.
“She was asking what sort of lace I preferred on my dress and will be back inside shortly.”
Alexandre herded her mother into the château and shut the door in Elodie’s face. I ran over to Elodie, but she took one look at me, her face turning red, and bolted, circling around me to get to the road.
“Elodie! Wait!”
But she continued to run, faster than I’d ever seen her run before, until she was so far ahead of me I would never be able to catch up. And even if I did manage to catch her, I didn’t think she would want to talk to me. When Elodie wanted privacy, she would go to incredible lengths to get it. Maybe tonight, when she calmed down a little, I would see if she was ready to talk.
Anger flared in my belly as I entered the château. I wanted to march right into the study and give my stepsister an earful, but Lady Catherine’s presence in the kitchen put an end to that idea.
“It seems that everyone is running late today. What took you so long? You’ve been gone for hours.” Lady Catherine leaned against the kitchen table, arms crossed in front of her chest. She looked perfectly poised and in control, not a pale blond curl out of place or wrinkle to be found on her white satin dress with roses embroidered on the skirt. She scrutinized me as if I had been gallivanting about instead of completing a chore she tasked me with.
Nothing I did was good enough to please her. Severine could throw a tantrum because her mutton wasn’t warm enough, and her mother would coo and coddle her, but if I spent the day washing the floors and cleaning the windows, Lady Catherine would complain that I should’ve done the laundry as well.
“The market was crowded today. I had to push through a mob of people just to walk between stalls.”
Lady Catherine sniffed. “Did you get the fruit and cheese? I want Brie and pears for dessert tonight.”
I hauled the basket up onto the kitchen table and started to unpack.
“I got the fruit, the cheese, the meat. Absolutely everything you asked for.”
Did she detect the sarcasm? I couldn’t tell. She didn’t seem upset as she walked over to watch me unpack the basket, but the way she looked wasn’t always a reliable marker. I knew better than to be sarcastic, especially when she was in a mood. But the mysterious encounter at the market and Alexandre hurting Elodie’s feelings had worn away any patience.
I pulled the fruit out first, examining each piece to make sure nothing was bruised. Lady Catherine grabbed my wrist as I picked up one of the oranges, her nails digging into my skin.
“What is that?” she asked. “Is that an orange?”
Her grip on my wrist was tight enough to bruise. My skin was going numb underneath her fingers.
“Yes. Why? What’s wrong?”
I tried to pull away, but she only held on tighter. Lady Catherine was not a delicate little flower, no matter how she looked, but I hadn’t realized she was this strong. She was starting to scare me.
“Where did you get the money for an orange? No. Wait. Three oranges?” she said, peering into the basket. “I know I didn’t give you enough money to buy our necessities and three oranges.”
Lady Catherine’s icy gaze, accentuated by the pallor of her face, silenced any responses. “Well? Are you hiding money from me, ma chérie? Secreting away precious funds that could be used to care for your family?”
Lady Catherine plucked the orange from my fingers and dropped my wrist. I ran to the other side of the kitchen table. She was blocking the door. I couldn’t get out without going past her. Lady Catherine had a temper that was generally contained behind frosty looks and biting words. I’d never seen her like this before.
“I didn’t have enough money for the oranges. I didn’t pay for them,” I blurted out, the words finally escaping only for me to realize that they were the exact wrong words.
Lady Catherine gently placed the orange on the table and clutched the back of a kitchen chair. She leaned on it heavily, like a cane, her knuckles turning white. It was quiet in the kitchen as she looked at me, so quiet that I could faintly hear the tutor speaking on the other side of the château. The air was thick with tension as I watched her in turn. I waited breathlessly for her to move, or speak, or do anything other than stare at me with those pale eyes.
“You didn’t pay for them? So you stole them. My stepdaughter is stealing oranges from the market?” she said as she walked slowly around the table toward me.
I watched her approach, my limbs frozen, beyond my control.
“No! Of course not. I would never steal. Not ever. A stranger at the market paid for them. I asked him not to, but he insisted and—”
Lady Catherine surged forward and slapped me across the face. I stumbled back into the table, too shocked to even try to run away. There wasn’t much time for that anyway, not when she grabbed me again and pulled me toward her.
“Do you think that makes it better, Cendrillon? Instead of my stepdaughter stealing, she’s accepting gifts from strange men like a harlot. Is that what you are? Are you a harlot disgracing this family’s good name? Your father’s good name, might I add,” she said, punctuating each word with a jerk of my arm.
Lady Catherine didn’t yell, but there was a bitterness to her voice, a venom in every word she spoke that filled my veins with ice. I was trapped by her eyes and her voice more than I was by her hold on my arm.
“What do you think he would say, your precious father, if he saw you now, cavorting with men and utterly disrespecting me, after all I’ve done for you?”
I stayed silent and met her gaze as bravely as I was able, ignoring the stinging in my cheek and the barely contained anger moving behind her eyes.