The hallway loomed large and airy. Daunting. Beeswax candles in sconces were perched along both sides of the corridor in precisely placed. A soft pleasant scent of linseed oil teased her senses.
Cinderella glanced to toward the end of the hallway and saw a window as large as it was tall. Dusk had fallen quickly. The moon would be bright in another hour. To the right the hallway wound into the depths of darkness, the silence, ominous.
She felt-forgotten. Tears filled her eyes but she blinked them away. The solitude offered a reprieve from Stepmama, Pricilla, and Esmeralda. How often had she wished for that very thing? Most times she could count on being summoned by way of a screech or slap.
She shook away the gloom. "Leastways, I can always depend on you, oui, Marcel?" Cinderella smiled at her friend, who peeped his undying loyalty. "Come," she said. "Let us explore."
She would revel in this opportunity. 'Twas too great to pass up. Raising her chin, she stepped from the safety of her chamber and tread softly toward the window.
Feeling much like a thief in the night, she glanced over her shoulder. Her slippers sunk into a deep rug that did not quite stretch the width of the hall. She couldn't detect a speck of dust. Of course there wouldn't be any dust, it was the home of the Royal Family. Marcel squeaked in the eerie hush. Cinderella smiled but faded just as quickly.
What would become of her when Esmeralda married Prince? She swallowed a pained cry. She would find a way. She would. The tall window turned out to be door. With another glance over her shoulder making certain no one snuck up on her, she braved to test it. It opened with nary a sound, but the cool night air had her pulling it quickly closed. She settle for gazing out at a full moon.
"Oh, Papa," she whispered. "How different life would have been had you not succumbed to that dreadful infirmity all those years ago." But it had not. Papa had remarried for love. There was a time she and her sisters were like sisters. She thought of how angry her sisters were. The memories were so distant, perhaps she was mistaken. But Stepmama had seemed cordial enough at the time. Oh, it was all so long ago.
"I tried, Papa. I did." This was her lot in life, for good or ill, and Cinderella tried to see the good.
For one moment in time, Cinderella managed to dance the night away, allowing hope to fill her heart. She would carry her secret to her dying day, she vowed. Leastways, no one could steal her memories. She was almost certain Esmeralda and Pricilla did not have a fairy godmother. She clung to the knowledge with satisfactory glee. Mayhap, she could reach Fairy Godmother.