Cinderella

The Smudge on Her Nose

The days while the pair warmed to each other were as unpredictable as a hurricane. Some days, Mariette looked upon her dear Auntie (for that was what she called her) as if she were a god. Some, she yelled at her and blamed her for not being her mother. As Mariette grew, she became curious about the woman she so resembled. She questioned Auntie daily, and her guardian began to use stories of her mother for a reward.

"What was she like?" Mariette would ask again, and Auntie would say, "Just like you."

Mariette began to dislike this answer, and would ask more specific questions. "Was she kind to the servants?" she asked one day. Auntie told her that, yes, her mother (who Mariette now knew as Mother Emeline) was kind to her servants. "Did she have dark hair and purple eyes like me?" Mariette would ask, and Auntie said that Mother Emeline looked almost exactly like her.

One day, when the sun was shining like the day her parents had met, she decided she wanted to meet other children. By this time, Mariette was ten and, aside from Charlotte's daughter who was only six, had never seen another child. Auntie, secretly deciding this was a wonderful idea, told her that if she was well behaved and did all she was told, that they would travel to a nearby village and find other children.

Mariette could barely contain herself; she washed every dish, cleaned up all of her toys and sternly told the maids thatshe needed to dust the shelves. Auntie was content it would appear, because that afternoon they took a carriage into the village. Mariette, dressed in her play clothes, stepped out of the carriage slowly, as if entering a whole new world, and stared around her with wonderstruck eyes. To a child of ten, it was the most beautiful place she had ever seen. The streets were crowded with other children of all ages, the grassy fields green and thick. She hardly noticed that most of the children turned to stare at her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. She turned to Auntie excitedly. "Oh, Auntie! Everything is so beautiful! May I?" She gestured to the children who stared at her.

"If you need anything, I'll be in that clothing makers there," she pointed. "You will need more play outfits if you plan to come here often."

Mariette's face brightened. "Do you mean it?"

"I mean it." She touched Mariette's cheek briefly with the back of her hand. "Now run along and play. We don't want these nice children to think you're a snob, now do we?"

Mariette shook her head, already running toward the children as her curly dark tendrils unfurled behind her. Auntie watched as the children froze at her approach, appraising her. One of the children, a tall boy with mouse brown hair said something to her; she replied with her fists on her hips. The boy smiled, accepting it-and her-it appeared, and gestured toward his friends as he made introductions.

Smiling smugly at the scene, Auntie turned into the clothing store. An obese, elderly man sat behind the counter.

"Cynthia!" he bellowed when he saw her. "It feels like years! How are you?"

Cynthia smiled at her old friend. "It hasbeen years, Ulric. Now isn't the time for a reunion, however. I need play clothes for the child...Emeline's daughter."

"Ah," Ulric said sadly. "Your daughter, so to speak. I heard of her death. They say she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Is her daughter any comparison?"

Mistress Auréle-who was happy to speak to someone who referred to her as her given name-sighed. "Mariette is the vision of her mother."

"Does she need extravagant gowns? Silk shirts? Embroidered slippers?"

"No, no, she has tons of those. Its play clothing she needs. The poor child has nothing of the sort. She had to borrow clothing from her maid's daughter." She reached into the satchel behind her and handed Ulric the bundle from within. "Here are some of her clothes. Take measurements from them. I will need at least four sets of trousers and shirts-no expensive fabrics-and two riding habits. The child must learn to ride soon."

Ulric nodded. "As you say, ma'am." He glanced behind her momentarily and smiled at something she couldn't see. "You were right, dear Cynthia. The child resembles her mother exactly. May I ask her name?"

Cynthia realized that he must be watching the children from his window. "She is our Mariette, a strong, French name. Charlotte-her maid-has her convinced that her father wished to name her 'Mary' but, as a man who has lost his faith in God, he revised it."

"Is it true?"

Cynthia seemed to consider this at great length. "No. I don't think so. If anything, Cedric named her that in spite of a god he believes to be cruel."

Ulric grinned widely at the scene behind her. "My grandson, Winslow, seems to have taken to her."

Cynthia turned to see what he meant. A tall boy with choppy brown hair was leaning closer to Mariette. Cynthia couldn't help but laugh as Mariette's fist swung forward and she punched him in the face.

...

From the moment Mistress had stepped into the store, Mariette knew this had been a bad idea. The children gazed upon her as if she were an animal to be dissected. She approached them slowly, delicately, as she gauged their reaction. The brown haired boy seemed to be the leader, his large grey eyes steady as he gazed at Mariette. Two other children flanked him-a boy and a girl. The boy had white blond hair and freckles that spilled over his cheeks in heaps. The girl had frizzy blond hair with thin strikes of red that was caked with dirt, and in one hand carried a large stick like a weapon.

"You there," the leader called. "What's your name?"

"Mariette de-" she froze midsentence, realizing she didn't want to be known by her father's title. "Mariette," she corrected.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "My name is Winslow, and this is Leo and Perriwinkle-who is really just Perri. We're a club."

"Oh," Mariette responded. "That's nice. Can I play with you?"

"You can't," Perri piped in. "Only club members can play with us."

"Then can I join your club?" Mariette asked, becoming impatient.

The three glanced at each other. In truth, they had never really thought about it. They certainly didn't expect a new member; they'd simply never had one before.

"Well," Winslow said. "You could, but you can't. We don't have girls in our club, you see."

Mariette huffed, planting her hands on her hips. "Is that so? Then how come Perri can be in the club?"

"'Cause Perri is protected by the Marriage Clause. Which basically states that a girl can only enter the club if she marries one of the boys-because we boys have to marry within the club, you see."

"Can't I do that?" Mariette asked.

She surprised them yet again, they were struck into silence. Winslow chewed on his cheek for a second. "I suppose so. But that means you'll have to marry me. Andwe'll have to change your name. We don't use girly names in our club. That's why we changed Perriwinkle to Perri."

Mariette shrugged her tiny shoulders, "That's okay; I never liked my name, anyway. And I would have to marry somebody, someday, and better it be a friend than a stranger."

He assumed a straight-backed stance. "Then I should...um...consult my...um...quorum. Yeah, my quorum."

Mariette giggled a little as his atrociously formal countenance. She hoped dearly that he would prove to be a better friend than diplomat. After a few moments, the three turned to her.

"We've decided that you can be part of our club," Winslow said. "Provided you change your name to Cinders."

Mariette was willing but curious. "Why Cinders?"

For the first time, Perri spoke up, "'Cause you have a spot of cinder on your nose. And it's better than Mariette."

Mariette silently agreed.