There was another letter.
Cinderella frowned at the envelope that she had found at the bottom of the waste paper basket in her stepmother's office.
That same elegant curling handwriting on the envelope, no return address or seal to state who the letter had come from, and no letter.
Folding it up and slipping it into her pocket, she walked out of the office and to the dressing room.
It was the day of the ball.
The biggest day of the year – the first of three. Even from their home on the outskirts, the fizzy excitement that choked the atmosphere of the town could be felt throughout the manor.
Giselle hadn't slept at all the night before – resulting in shadows under her eyes and her mother had banished her to her room after breakfast with a sleeping draft to be sure she would actually be awake for the night.
The day itself was given over entirely to preparation.
Cinderella's morning was filled with last minute adjustments to the dresses. The afternoon was strictly reserved for last minutes lessons for the girls from their mother – the do's and don't's of such a grand affair and what she expected from them.
Dia's dress vanished from the dressing room after lunch but Dia wasn't allowed to change until the family was ready – she would be leaving later after all, there was less need to rush.
The evening was time for preparation.
Dia handled the makeup.
Cinderella did the hair – both natural (for her Stepmother) and glamourous wigs (for her Stepsisters).
After that, the family was stuffed into their gowns, corsets wrenching the waists tight, accessorises shimmering in their evening light, dancing slippers secured.
And finally the masks.
Glittering and feathered, each as carefully attached to the face and looped around the back of the hair.
"I feel so heavy!" Giselle cried a half hour before they were set to leave, rolling her shoulders once again, her huge wings shining in the candlelight.
"Oh shut up," Jezabelle said, securing a choker necklace around her throat. "You're the one who insisted on gargantuan wings."
"Well I didn't know they'd be so heavy!" Giselle snapped.
"Well there's hardly time to change now," Lady Constantia said, striding in, holding four invitations.
Giselle grumbled something under her breath and her mother ignored her.
"Dia," she snapped instead, "Time to get ready, your dress is in your room, hurry up, I want to be sure you look presentable before I leave. I shan't have my servant embarrassing me."
Dia curtsied and raced out, a look of undisguised excitement on her face.
"Cinderella, I have changed my mind about these shoes, collect the black ones with the green trim," Lady Constantia continued.
Cinderella walked out and headed for her stepmother's personal dressing room, digging the shoes out and going back, only to find the family had already made their way downstairs and her milling by the front door, checking last minute bits and pieces.
Taking a seat, Lady Constantia held out a foot for Cinderella and she quickly changed the shoes around.
"Such a shame you shan't be joining us this evening, Cinderella dear," Lady Constantia said in a mock sympathetic tone, moving one foot away, almost kicking Cinderella in the chin as she did so, holding out her other foot.
YOU ARE READING
Dancing on Glass
Fantasy#26 in Fantasy ~ In six months, Cinderella will be free. At nineteen, she comes into her inheritance and will be rid of her wretched stepfamily. All she has to do is: Behave: (to a point) Do as she's told: (for the most part) Stay out of...
