Perception ✔

30 Tempest & Rain

Within a month, as my condition momentarily improved, Edmond used the king's bestowed title and secured our marriage.

No one was thrilled. Edmond looked miserable, I felt miserable. Poppy and Piglet were in attendance in the garden with us, which was surprising.

Even the priest made no eye contact, embarrassed on my behalf.

I did not care. My eyes cast low, I took my vows and Edmond his. For a man like Edmond, money and status helped somewhat. The fact that I was quite disgraced also assisted in making our nuptials possible.

The very same day as we signed the ledger, finalizing our marriage, Edmond sold that estate and that title away.

Some of the money he used for the manor, the rest went to Poppy's schooling which we paid for in full. It wasn't the most coveted establishment in the country, as we no longer had the status, but it was still impressive. Far more impressive than I'd anticipated. Edmond had been determined.

Two weeks later, she climbed into a carriage with her sister, Edmond at the reigns, and informed me she did not want me to join in her send off.

So, I stood at the doorstep, watching as the carriage rounded. Our eyes met, just briefly, and her tears broke me.

With only the three of us, I decided to not make the same mistake with Piglet. That effort ended in several doors slammed in my face.

The day I awoke to find my fifteen-year-old Piglet run off with the new young porter, I nearly fell down the stairs.

Edmond relieved the cook as well.

An empty house was why he carried me to bed without hesitation most nights.

We waited and waited, praying for Piglet's return but after a month, I forced myself to accept this hard truth—I was a failure as a mother.

And now I was dying.

"You are not dying," Edmond told me, lying in front of me.

Then why did I feel as if I were? He pulled me close, and I cowered in his embrace.

"It'll pass," he promised.

But I hadn't anticipated what my life would become. One year led to two and then four. I was proud and relieved to hear that Cinderella was twenty by the time she agreed to marry. That meant she wasn't forced. I'd thought to never hear from her again so to receive an invitation to the debuting of her first child at twenty-two thrilled me.

Poppy no longer spoke to me. In fact, only Edmond ever received steady letters from her. That was for spite, but I was still grateful for the correspondences, though none were directed at me. Piglet was my bigger worry.

Over the years, Edmond and I had searched with little success. It was almost as if she disappeared into thin air.

My first husband was a dollmaker. That was his trade. When his first wife died without granting him children, he became somewhat obsessed with the idea of carrying on his bloodline. So much so that he'd pretend his dolls were real.

It was a sad habit he overcame once we were wed. And although he never received the son he wanted, he decided to find happiness with his small family. I resolved to follow his path. Our funds were meager and would never grow thanks to my reputation but that was all right.

With the invitation in hand, and a new doll which I created as a gift, I looked up at the castle steps. The crowd filed into the main doors. I managed to make it halfway before my body gave out.

This felt like a betrayal. How could I celebrate this with Cinderella when I couldn't even find my own daughters?

Rather than up at the gaping doors, I looked down at Edmond who stood beside Gareth's little carriage; we'd long sold mine.