Cinderella’s Secret

“Cinderella, why are there still rats roaming around the house? I thought I told you to take care of them,” screeched Ester, throwing a stern gaze at several gray rats, which scurried into hiding as the light disturbed the dark sanctuary of the closet. She shook her own grey hair in discontent at the filthy, unwanted visitors. “Also, are the dresses for Brianna and Bertha ready for tonight? You know they plan to attend the masquerade party. It’s their chance to finally connect with an aristocrat. I would love it if one of my beautiful daughters could marry a rich politician, or even a business owner. It would mean more money for the family.”

Cinderella darted into Ester’s spacious bedroom, curly brown hair flailing. She had a small plate of food in her right hand and a bottle of arsenic in her left. Laying a plate of food in the closet to attract the rats, she responded. “Sorry ma’am. I thought I had laid the plate out last night. I must have forgotten.”

“Stupid, ungrateful girl,” Ester complained under her breath. She rolled her eyes in disgust. “I take you in after your father passes, and this is how you say thank you?”

The mentioning of her father, Marcus, stunned Cinderella for a brief moment. Marcus had escaped slavery with Cinderella when she was an infant. His wife’s death during childbirth signaled him to flee from the South to support a better life for his daughter in the Union. Once they were free from the Southern laws, he made education a priority for Cinderella. He was fortunately gifted with language, and taught her how to read, while he started a writing career. He used a pen name to hide his ethnicity. As his success grew, he met Ester.

Ester was a fan of his works and the first to learn his true identity. Sensing an opportunity for both of them, she concocted a plan to attend social events in his place, Her pale complexion would grant her access to social events he was unable to attend. She would use the invitation to promote his stories. Ester’s plan proved victorious, and Marcus was beginning to make a lavishing lifestyle from his royalties. Eventually, she expressed amorous emotions for Marcus, and they married. Cinderella was elated to be part of a larger family, but discovered the harsh reality of racism.

Her step-sisters were kind in the presence of the parents, but mocked Cinderella in private. They often called Cinderella an abomination and constant display subtle disgust towards the young family member. Cinderella wanted to inform her father, but witnessing his happiness motivated her to endure the verbal lashings of her step-sisters.

Marcus made Cinderella's education a priority, but feared she may be discriminated against because of her dark complexion. He hired a private tutor to educate her. Cinderella reveled in literature, taking interest in Shakespeare’s work once she began her ninth year. She enjoyed the various excursions she was allowed on, taking a hands-on approach to Science. Her academic accomplishments brought deeper pride to her father.

Unfortunately, this moment of bliss ended when Cinderella returned home to a tearful Ester, mid-school year. She hugged Cinderella and shared the sad news of Marcus’s passing. He had suffered from a poor heart condition, while she was exploring for school. Cinderella was distraught and feared what her life would transform into without the protection of her father. Ester agreed to care for Cinderella and weeks after the grieving period, the torment began. Subtle hatred from her sisters become blatant, and Ester refused to side with Cinderella in any of her accusations. The need to hide her own disdain for Cinderella vanished with Marcus’s death. She halted Cinderella’s tutoring and made her into an involuntary servant. Cinderella has been secretly serving her family for five years.

“You know, my family in the South could use a girl like you,” Ester threatened. “Perhaps you should find a better way to show your gratitude for my kindness of allowing you to live with us.”

Cinderella smiled, ignoring the snide remark, “yes ma’am, sorry ma’am.”

“What of the evening gowns for the ball tonight?”

“I shall have them prepared by sundown, ma’am,” Cinderella added with politeness.

Ester frowned at the response. “They’re not ready yet? Do you realize the importance of this gathering? One of my precious daughters will become the wife of an aristocrat. You must finish the gowns.”

“Sorry, ma’am. I have been preoccupied with my daily chores,” Cinderella stated, bowing respectfully.

Ester threw an exasperated expression. “Another excuse. Always full of excuses. Maybe another beating will get your head out of those books, so you can complete your daily chores. A girl of your complexion doesn’t need to read. You’re where you belong, you foolish girl,” Ester raised her hand in an attempt to strike Cinderella, who flinched, but Ester paused. Ester’s watery eyes melted the anger, and she buried her face in her hands.

“Your father, dear Marcus, rest his soul, would be so disappointed in the manner you treat us. With all I have done to keep you here,” she wept.

Cinderella’s held her hands in front of her heart, sympathizing with her step-mother’s break down. “Step-mother, I promise, I shall have the dresses ready by sundown. Hamlet will just have to wait until then,” Cinderella stood up and exited the bedroom. Sounds of her stepmother sobbing chased after her.

She returned to her cellar room and stared at Shakespeare’s book longing to be held by her on the bed, sighed, and walked over to the sewing machine. Immediately, she sat down to continue work on the royal blue and white antebellum gown for Bertha. Adjacent to the machine, draped over two mannequins, were additional garments. One green for Brianna and pink for herself. Each gown was near completion; just requiring a few hems and snips. Of course, she had to have her stepsisters try them on to ensure the measurements were correct. She lowered her head to focus, racing against the limited time.

The announcement for the party happened months ago. Since Marcus’s fame still represented the household, Ester was often invited to wealthy social engagements. The masquerade ball was another chance for single men to find a potential future spouse among other affluent members of society. Furthermore, it was hosted by one of the most popular bachelors in town, Sir William Hamilton. With her deceased husband’s earnings gradually reaching depletion, Ester viewed it as an opportunity to maintain the flow of funds. She thrusted the task of dress design on Cinderella, hoping her enslaved step-daughter would craft a gown to have her birthed children receive enough recognition to catch wealthy suitors. Cinderella accepted the task and had been working diligently during her spare time.

Minutes into sewing, a shriek pierced the air from the floor above Cinderella’s room. She dropped the needle and thread to dart up the flight of stairs to the source. Bertha and Brianna were standing atop chairs, sounding like vengeful banshees. The screams were blended tightly to their words, making it difficult to understand what they were saying. However, they were pointing feverishly towards the floor. Cinderella peered down. Aside from a few crumbs, it was empty. She deducted they must have seen a rat to explain their frightful behavior. She raised her hands and began speaking as soft as she could.

“It’s ok, calm down. It’s gone,” she repeated several times before the terrified twosome silenced themselves. “See, look,” Cinderella pointed to the rat-less floor. Bertha scanned the area first, while Brianna kept her head held high, averting her eyes from the evidence. Bertha met Cinderella’s smile and eyes, a sense of relief washed over her. She steadily dismounted the chair, and when her feet were firmly planted back on the kitchen floor, she sighed, but her demeanor switched from fear to angry unexpectedly.

“What the hell! I thought you were supposed to kill those rats! Mom!” Her voice shook the room while Brianna dropped beside her.

Brianna chimed in with her soprano, nasally voice. “That grotesque creature had no business residing in our home, Cinderatta. Granted, it’s better looking than you, but at least you have two legs and not four.” Both sisters cackled.

Ester barged into the kitchen, acrimony spewing from her face. “What is going on in here?” She demanded, throwing a piercing gaze at Cinderella.

“Cinderella's friends came out to play again,” Bertha teased, but realized Ester was present, and switched to balling her eyes out. “It was terrifying! I thought we were going to die. They are so hideous. Mom, one of them almost bit me.”

Brianna smiled subtly, knowing it was her turn to chime in. “They kept nipping at us, but ran the minute their master entered the kitchen.” She pointed at Cinderella.

Ester fiery glare burned Cinderella. “I thought I told you to take care of the rats,” she scowled; then glided towards Brianna and Bertha, throwing her arms around them to soothe their spirits. “Clearly those little beasts have terrorized my precious daughters.” She woefully added.

Cinderella lowered her head in shame. “I… put out the arsenic. They must not have taken the bait. I’ll have to try again, once I finish our dresses for tonight’s ball.”

“Our dresses?” Bertha cast a quizzical expression. “What do you mean, our dresses?”

“You don’t think you’re attending, do you?” Ester interrupted in disbelief, reading Cinderella’s thoughts. She erupted in a fountain of laughter, followed by her daughters’. “You really think these men would have interest in a filthy looking girl, such as yourself?”

“Yeah, even with a bath, you are still dirty looking. You can’t change the mud color that’s stained on your skin,” Brianna's high-pitch voice mocked, shattering Cinderella’s spirits.

It was a direct hit at Cinderella’s self-esteem. She had always thought people would love her for who she is, and not the color of her skin. At least, she hoped. She knew it was the reason she had been forbidden to leave the house. She had become the dark family secret, and was blind to that self-deprecating fact. It became clear why her father refused to accept literary accolades in person. He was concealing the truth. He knew society would refuse to accept their favorite author was a person of color. Ester and her daughter with their pale, white skin easily blended with the high society they were a part of, or what her father had built for them. Reality slapped Cinderella in the face. She was made to remain an in-house slave to her step-family in the death of her father.

“At least she talented,” Bertha finally said, recovering from her laughter. “When are you going to have us try on the dresses? Don’t we need to see if they fit?”

Cinderella nodded in heavy silence

She sulked back down the cellar steps to finish preparing the dresses. She would have her step-sisters’ completed within a few strokes, but her attention was captured by her own pink gown. Tears rolled down her cheeks in an attempt to calm her from the disappointment of not being able to showcase her craft to the eyes of others. Her chance to escape the chains of involuntary servitude for happiness fleeted with each stitch she made on the other two gowns. Thoughts of abandoning the project crossed her mind several times, but she knew she would rather endure life with her step-mother than all three women. If two out of three could leave the house, then caring for her step-mother would alleviate her from the combined emotional pain Brianna and Bertha caused. As she finished the last stitch, she called for the obnoxious trio to examine her work, but concealed her own gown before any of them began their descent down into the cellar.

Minutes later, Brianna and Bertha were elated with the quality of their gowns. They were sure to impress any affluent politician to appease their mother. Ester was also satisfied with observing the happiness flourish from her daughters.

Ester admired the beauty that lay before her eyes. Cinderella’s handiwork was emotional. Every stitched perfectly aligned with the garment.

“Cinderella,” she started, wanting to shower her with compliments, but paused to rethink her words. She grimaced. “I suppose these will have to do, given the lack of time we have remaining. I had expected a lot more from you. You better pray my daughters find potential partners tonight, or I may have to reconsider your residence with me.”

Icy guilt for creating her own gown washed over Cinderella, but she smiled brightly. “I am confident they will turn many heads at the ball.”

“We shall see,” Ester muttered, eyeing Cinderella sternly. “Come, my beauties, we would rather not be late for the ball. Oh, and Cinderella, make sure the kitchen is spotless prior to our return.” With her last order of the day verbally nailed, the trio exited the cellar and headed to the carriages. The galloping sound of hooves echoed until it dissipated in the distance.

Cinderella released a heavy breath of relief. She walked up into the kitchen and laid a fresh plate of food on the floor. The rats quickly ran out to eat, while she took the leftovers from the table and dumped it in the rubbish bin. “It makes me wonder who the rats really are?” She muttered while they hungrily scarfed down the impromptu meal before them.

Five years of scars collected on her back were reminders if she left the chores incomplete, but her mind was abducted by a fantasy of the ball. The desire to attend grew gradually with each sweep of the floor. She turned to the dishes, but every wipe from her towel were whispered words of encouragement to abandon her duties and attend.

“You deserve to attend just as much as your step-sisters do. You are sure to impress any politician with your beauty.” The words blew in with the night breeze consistently, to the point where Cinderella was able to hear them perfectly. She dropped her cleaning supplies and darted down the cellar to uncover her pink ball gown. Whether she was to attend or not, she wanted to still wear her craft. Once she donned the pink and white gown, she felt like a princess. She swayed back and forth, as if dancing with a partner.

“You are gorgeous both in and out. You must attend the party. Let your mask hide your identity,” the wind howled, providing courage and rationalization. The only obstacle preventing her from attending was transportation. The house was miles from town. Ester would always accompany her on the two-horse carriage when she went shopping for items beyond the local markets. The stable was empty, making it impossible for her to travel by foot. She sulked down atop her bed and burst into tears, realizing it would be impossible for her to attend.

A warm breeze embraced and comforted her. “Show no tears, my love” it chimed, carrying the sound of hooves. Cinderella perked up, curious what creature could be trespassing the property. She climbed the steps, and exited the house. Waiting outside the main entrance stood a majestic black stallion under the full moonlit sky. It leaped onto its hind legs and whisked its head, signaling permission to be mounted by Cinderella. “Go, my child, go,” the wind pushed her warmly with a sense of familiarity. She clambered up the stallion with the weight of her dress. Once she was settled, they sped off towards the ball.

The valets were shocked to see an elegant woman skillfully arriving by horse, but still assisted her down from the four-legged traveler. She covered her face with a mask and double-check her arms to ensure her gloves concealed her skin, before making her way to the main entrance. She inhaled deeply with her eyes closed, hoping her identity would not be revealed, then she walked through the double doors to a sea of people dancing harmoniously with one another.

The vast number of attendees made it impossible to detect her stepfamily. As she was washed into the crowd, a well-dressed gentleman bowed politely to request a dance with her. She was flattered, for no man had ever asked to dance with her. She curtsied, and together they moved rhythmically to the music playing. Many minutes later, entertained by a variety of suitors, Cinderella needed to rest.

She fought through the ocean of inebriated dancers to an outdoor garden. Though it was nighttime, the white smiled shined under the moonlight. She strolled down a path to explore the garden. Experiencing the exotic plants such as roses, fuchsias, and gladiolus was new to her. More flowers seemed to introduce themselves the further she walked. Near the center of the garden, she found a bridge over a pond with a bench resting on it for people to enjoy the view. The pond sparkled with the stars reflecting from its surface, and water lilies were glissading in their section. Cinderella sat down and removed her mask, taking in the beauty of nature, while still in disbelief over her defiance. She knew her time was limited and would have to return home.

“Well, hello there,” a deep masculine voice startled her from behind. Her mask fled from her hand and plummeted into the pond below. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the voice called. Seconds later, a six-foot man appeared in front of Cinderella. His skin was fairer than hers, and he had dark hair from what she could tell.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” Cinderella stuttered, trying to retrieve her mask simultaneously.

The man laughed, “I do believe it will be impossible to fish out your mask. The pond is rather deep under the bridge. I should know, I have fallen in this pond many times.”

Cinderella blushed and giggled.

“Sorry, I’m Sir William Hamilton,” he introduced.

William Hamilton was a popular politician who believed strongly in human rights. He had introduced many labor laws, allowing freed people from the South employment. Her father often referred to Hamilton’s work before his death. Fortunately, the night sky concealed her zealot over William.

Cinderella nervously turned towards William. “Then I must apologize for ruining your pond.”

“I shall have one of my servants fetch it tomorrow. Until then, entertain me with your name, so I know whom to return it to.”

Cinderella shied away. “Regrettably, my identity must remain anonymous. There is a party in attendance who would be ill, should they be made aware of my presence.”

William frowned subtly at failing to know his company. “Ah, a mystery. I do appreciate that. Much like Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice,” he chuckled.

Hearing the name of her favorite author coerced Cinderella into comfort. “Sir Hamilton, are you familiar with the works of Shakespeare?”

“I may be a man of politics, but I am also one of literature. Shakespeare has always captured my mind and heart. My mysterious enchantress, do you also enjoy his masterful works?”

“I do,” Cinderella beamed. “From the tragic romance of the star crossed lovers; the dreams of midsummer, to the madness of a King.”

“Intriguing. I have never met any woman who has enjoyed the works of Shakespeare. Allow me to accompany you for a moment.” He waited for her consent before sitting next to her on the bench. Minutes later, they were engrossed deep in conversation, bloviating over the writings of their favorite author. Cinderella and William had forgotten about time and the ball, wrapped in a dream of their own. Drawn by laughter, soliloquies and various passages. William began reenacting scenes in front of Cinderella, who would occasionally join him.

The moon climbed to its zenith in the sky, before the couple was abruptly interrupted by one of William’s servants. “Sir Hamilton, I apologize for my intrusion, but a matter of grave importance erupted, and your audience is required.” His announcement remained stoic, expressing the urgency of the situation.

William turned to Cinderella. “Well, my mysterious mistress, duty calls. If you could, I would appreciate it if you were to await my return.”

Cinderella wanted to stay, but became aware of the lateness of the night. She stood from the bench. “I...I cannot. I must be making my exit. There is a matter of my own in which I must attend to as well.”

She briskly walked away from William without looking back, and returned to the ballroom. She reentered into the vast dance hall, but was halted by the unexpected silence in the previously joyful room. People were huddled in the center; whispers and murmurs replaced the music. William joined Cinderella shortly after.

The threat of being banished flashed in her mind, but her legs refused to respond to her requests to leave. Her curiosity over the situation was stronger, calling her closer to the crowd. She meandered to the center of the room, unaware of the people parting away with each step she made. When she arrived at the source, she froze and realized she was maskless simultaneously.

“You!” A terrifying, harsh female voice shot directly at her. “You...” a cough interrupted the sentence. Cinderella had now become the center of attention. Three bodies lay at her feet. Two were motionless, donning familiar garments, and the third appeared to be on her last breath.

“What...did...” an older woman breathed sporadically, clutching her chest. It was Ester. Before she could utter her final word, her head crashed onto the dance floor. Gasps echoed around the room. The patrons’ eyes bore into Cinderella. Her hands instinctively hid her face, while tears escaped through the gaps of her fingers.

William glided behind her and embraced her. “Do you know these people?”

Through her sobs, she spoke, “they were my step-family.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” he comforted. “I am assuming they were the reason for your anonymity?”

She nodded. Words were stuck in her throat. She turned and hugged William, burying her face into his chest.

Months later, Cinderella was reading peacefully in her house. It had changed drastically since the death of her step-family on the evening of the masquerade ball. Though she resided alone, she decided to use her love for literature and started publishing her own works. William was still amorously communicating with her, but she was resisting marriage until she was able to independently make a name for herself, as her father had done. She had to prove the color of her skin needed to be respected as any other. William honored her wishes and supported her efforts by providing a publisher for her works. Though she had a pen name, her works were proving to be popular in the literary world despite their grimness.

Physicians were unable to determine how her step-family had died at the ball, but there had been many speculations of other male suitors or jealous aristocrats. Ester had been well-known in the society, and many people were able to see past her facade. Additionally, her sisters were often rude to the townspeople with ridiculous demands and malicious threats. Their deaths were expected, based on their own human nature, but the cause stumped the medical world.

Many people had sympathy for Cinderella since she had endured years of abuse, and was quickly deemed the owner of the home. Cinderella smiled finishing the last act of Merchants of Venice, a story she was inspired to read because of William. As she closed the book, a small four-legged creature climbed onto her lap. She petted the little fat rat, before hand it some food from her palm. It not only kept her company during her enslavement, but also kept the secret of what happened to her step-family.