PROLOGUE
In life there are single moments
that can determine a character. Shining fragments of time,
blindingly beautiful to behold. They are cherished for a lifetime
and become a beacon of hope during times of despair. These are not
the moments that define us. Darkness and fear, the creation of
doubt and sorrow. Times when you fear that all hope is lost but are
nevertheless capable of arising from the darkness, striding in the
sun, walking towards the future. These were the moments that
plagued Cinderella's early childhood.
Indeed, it seemed that
Cinderella's fate had been chosen for her before her conception,
borne by her mother’s cruelty and her father's deception. She was
born in the middle of May, on a thoroughly inconsequential day,
faded from the memory of most who attended. Her mother,
Mademoiselle Bouchelle, a courtesan involved with Cinderella's
married father, an Earl, had been engaged in an affair for months
before Mademoiselle Bouchelle discovered that she was in love.
Driven mad by the idea of the Earl at home with his saintly wife,
she became with child in the hope that he might be taken with
running away with her. Escaping from English society and raising
their new-born babe in Italy, away from his wife and together. The
notion of his refusal or even his amusement at the idea had never
occurred to Mademoiselle Bouchelle but nevertheless she continued
growing. Ignorant that as her womb expanded, so did the spaces
between each of the Earl's visits.
On the day of Cinderella's birth
the Earl didn't appear. As her mother cradled her child in her arms
she wept, the baby hadn't worked. She knew, Cinderella was without
point if her mother was without the Earl. She stilled the baby
against her breast and motioned to her nurse to leave. Cinderella's
mother lowered her naked babe onto the bed and crossed over to her
dresser where she opened a drawer and slowly retrieved a small
switchblade. If it had have not been for the intrusive knock on the
door Mademoiselle Bouchelle might have carried through with her
nefarious actions. Alas, the door swung open to reveal the Earl,
immaculately dressed and regal. His features tightened at the site
before him.
"What the devil, woman" he
strode over to his daughter and protectively held her to his chest.
"Put the knife down!" Mademoiselle Bouchelle, sensing her immediate
danger at the wrath of the Earl's hands, artfully burst into
hysteria.
"I didn't intend to hurt her,
I-" her voice wobbled as she attempted to steady herself by placing
her palm on her chest. "My love?"
Without a response, the Earl
turned on his heel. Sweeping the now crying baby into his arms and
carrying her out of the fashionable town house, away from the
wailing mother. It was perhaps the only gentlemanly deed of his
life. He paused to look back at the small townhouse he'd often
frequented and then down to consider the child in his arms before
hurrying into the carriage quickly. Praying that nobody had seen
him exiting a known courtesans home with a child in tow. Later,
when the Earl returned to the townhouse to request Cinderella's
mother's immediate departure, he found that she was gone. She'd
found that there was no point to her life if there was no Earl in
it.
At the Earl's insistence, he
couldn't bear the idea of his daughter roaming the city beyond his
control, or worse, working in a brothel, the Earl's wife was forced
to welcome Cinderella into her life and acknowledge her as a
distant cousin. She was heralded off to a young maid of five and
twenty to be raised away from the family. On the occasion of her
birthday Cinderella was granted the brief attention of her father
before being deprived of it for another year. When Cinderella had
reached her fifth birthday the Countess announced her pregnancy, of
which Cinderella heard from her only friend and mother, Nurse
Fairgem. The Countess birthed two healthy girls that she named
Anabeth and Rebecca, after the Earl's two sisters. The arrival
In life there are single moments
that can determine a character. Shining fragments of time,
blindingly beautiful to behold. They are cherished for a lifetime
and become a beacon of hope during times of despair. These are not
the moments that define us. Darkness and fear, the creation of
doubt and sorrow. Times when you fear that all hope is lost but are
nevertheless capable of arising from the darkness, striding in the
sun, walking towards the future. These were the moments that
plagued Cinderella's early childhood.
Indeed, it seemed that
Cinderella's fate had been chosen for her before her conception,
borne by her mother’s cruelty and her father's deception. She was
born in the middle of May, on a thoroughly inconsequential day,
faded from the memory of most who attended. Her mother,
Mademoiselle Bouchelle, a courtesan involved with Cinderella's
married father, an Earl, had been engaged in an affair for months
before Mademoiselle Bouchelle discovered that she was in love.
Driven mad by the idea of the Earl at home with his saintly wife,
she became with child in the hope that he might be taken with
running away with her. Escaping from English society and raising
their new-born babe in Italy, away from his wife and together. The
notion of his refusal or even his amusement at the idea had never
occurred to Mademoiselle Bouchelle but nevertheless she continued
growing. Ignorant that as her womb expanded, so did the spaces
between each of the Earl's visits.
On the day of Cinderella's birth
the Earl didn't appear. As her mother cradled her child in her arms
she wept, the baby hadn't worked. She knew, Cinderella was without
point if her mother was without the Earl. She stilled the baby
against her breast and motioned to her nurse to leave. Cinderella's
mother lowered her naked babe onto the bed and crossed over to her
dresser where she opened a drawer and slowly retrieved a small
switchblade. If it had have not been for the intrusive knock on the
door Mademoiselle Bouchelle might have carried through with her
nefarious actions. Alas, the door swung open to reveal the Earl,
immaculately dressed and regal. His features tightened at the site
before him.
"What the devil, woman" he
strode over to his daughter and protectively held her to his chest.
"Put the knife down!" Mademoiselle Bouchelle, sensing her immediate
danger at the wrath of the Earl's hands, artfully burst into
hysteria.
"I didn't intend to hurt her,
I-" her voice wobbled as she attempted to steady herself by placing
her palm on her chest. "My love?"
Without a response, the Earl
turned on his heel. Sweeping the now crying baby into his arms and
carrying her out of the fashionable town house, away from the
wailing mother. It was perhaps the only gentlemanly deed of his
life. He paused to look back at the small townhouse he'd often
frequented and then down to consider the child in his arms before
hurrying into the carriage quickly. Praying that nobody had seen
him exiting a known courtesans home with a child in tow. Later,
when the Earl returned to the townhouse to request Cinderella's
mother's immediate departure, he found that she was gone. She'd
found that there was no point to her life if there was no Earl in
it.
At the Earl's insistence, he
couldn't bear the idea of his daughter roaming the city beyond his
control, or worse, working in a brothel, the Earl's wife was forced
to welcome Cinderella into her life and acknowledge her as a
distant cousin. She was heralded off to a young maid of five and
twenty to be raised away from the family. On the occasion of her
birthday Cinderella was granted the brief attention of her father
before being deprived of it for another year. When Cinderella had
reached her fifth birthday the Countess announced her pregnancy, of
which Cinderella heard from her only friend and mother, Nurse
Fairgem. The Countess birthed two healthy girls that she named
Anabeth and Rebecca, after the Earl's two sisters. The arrival
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