Roses and Black Glass: a dark Cinderella tale (novel preview)

Chapter Seventeen

                                           Roses and Black Glass: A Dark Cinderella Tale 

                                                                  Chapter Seventeen 

                                                                                  1

                                                                    Three weeks later… 

            Standing in the chapel, the tune from the organ bit at Christian’s ears.  He looked over all of the faces in the pews.  People who he didn’t even know were crying for the joy of the union, and there on the front sat his parents – his mother smiling proudly with a tissue in hand and his father holding no expression in particular.  Actually, the man looked as though he was ready to nod off at any moment.  Poor chap…  He hadn’t been the same in three years.  It was only so long that you could have a love affair with your own sister before your jealous wife sought to have her dead.  It was a shame to Christian; he had always liked Aunt Kate.

             But it was her death that had led him to meet Cindy.

             His mother had invited damn-near the entire town.  There were more people at this wedding than came to the worship services on Sunday – before the witch scare of course.  It was sickening to him, but what did he care really?

             Sunlight flooded in through the open doors and Christian could see the carriage outside and down the steps, waiting to take him off to the beginning of his miserable destiny.  His fate with Isabella would be less than pleasant, but he had lost all feeling inside.

             Now he stood, for all eyes to see, in one vest or the other from the tailor shop.  He didn’t recall which.  He took an accepting breath and let his mind drift away to the object of his every thought for the past three weeks: Cindy.

             Cindy…

             Once the fire had been mysteriously vanquished from the house, he had searched everywhere looking for the girl.  She had been nowhere to be found.  He’d searched the town as well for her, taking the rest of the rainy day, but still there was nothing.  He did not believe she had died in the fire, but he had accepted that she was dead.  He had imagined that she had killed herself, for it was part of the prophecy that one would die by her own hand.  He accepted this, only because it hurt less than thinking she had left him.

              After their joining, he suspected that he and Isabella would die leaving this place.  Two would die together on the road. If that was how it would be, he welcomed it. There was nothing else to go on for.  In fact, he had a pistol in his pocket to take care of that piece himself.  They would die whether Isabella liked it or not.

             She came now, dressed grandly in white, though Christian thought the color was unbefitting of her.  The dress was made of the finest material on the market and was custom made to fit Isabella perfectly.  Her hair had been pulled up and curled into ringlets, and a long veil fell over her and trailed down her back.  Any other man would have been pleased to have such a lovely wife, but all Christian saw was his defeat coming on fast.

             The minister muttered on with his words as Isabella smiled on in victory and adoration.  Christian did not hear the words; in only a short while his life would be done.  He began to hear the sniffling of the crowd.  The service did seem to be lovely, didn’t it?  Oh yes, so wonderful.  How could they be so audacious?  Could they not see his unhappiness?  His Cinderella was gone and nothing made sense.