“Oh, please, you don’t think—” Cinderella tried to defend herself, but Lady Tremaine cut her off.
“Hold your tongue! Now!” she snapped, then continued. “It seems we have time on our hands,” she said, picking up her coffee cup and smiling.
“But I was only trying to—” Cinderella began, but again Lady Tremaine cut her off.
“Silence! Time for vicious practical jokes? Perhaps we can put it to better use.” She poured cream into her coffee and continued.
“Now…let me see. There’s the large carpet in the main hall. Clean it! And the windows, upstairs and down. Wash them! Oh, yes…and the tapestries, and the draperies…” Lady Tremaine felt a sense of power in making Cinderella pay for everything she had done to make her life miserable—the mice, of course, and the unforgivable betrayal. But she also enjoyed it because she and her daughters had spent years cleaning up after Cinderella and doing her father’s bidding, all under the watchful eye of her poor, sweet, perfect, deceased mother. The mother Lady Tremaine had never had a hope of replacing. She was delighted to turn the tables now on this deceitful and traitorous little brat. That is how Lady Tremaine saw her. And who could blame her really?
And because she had grown to hate the girl so much, she took delight in not letting her speak.
“But I just fin—”
The fact was, Lady Tremaine hated the sound of Cinderella’s simperingly sweet voice. She was sick of it, and she was sick of her. She hated the sight of the girl.
“Do them again!” Lady Tremaine snapped. “And don’t forget the garden. Then scrub the terrace…sweep the halls…and the stairs…clean the chimneys. And of course, there’s the mending, and the sewing, and the laundry.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Oh, yes, and one more thing. See that Lucifer gets his bath,” she added, knowing how much Cinderella hated giving Lucifer his bath.
It was mornings like this that gave Lady Tremaine life. They made her feel like the strong, capable woman she was and not the coward she had become under the dominion of Cinderella’s father.
However, no amount of tormenting the girl would change their circumstances. She needed a plan. But then a solution to all their problems magically presented itself to her.
An invitation from the castle.
It came that afternoon while she was with her girls, who had been bickering, no doubt because they were feeling high-strung from Cinderella’s constant antics.
Lady Tremaine had been under tremendous stress and agitation but rarely let herself lose control, not since she had started wearing her brooch every day. She held her composure like a statue. Cold, resolute, and in complete control. She did her best to impart this way of thinking to her girls, to no avail. Anastasia and Drizella always had been difficult to control, now that she reflected on it.
The girls became wild as ever when Cinderella brought in the invitation, snatching it back and forth from each other until Lady Tremaine took the letter and read it herself.
“Well, there is to be a ball,” she said, realizing this was the perfect opportunity for her girls. If one of them could marry the prince, their prayers would be answered! But then she heard Sir Richard in her mind, laughing at her when she had called her girls beautiful and saying they were not presentable. Of course he thought his own daughter would make a better match for the prince. As much as she believed her daughters were lovely, she couldn’t shake the fear that if Cinderella attended the ball with them, Anastasia and Drizella would be overlooked.
Lady Tremaine decided she would do what she could to keep the girl from attending, to give her girls a better chance. The girl had done everything in her power to make Lady Tremaine’s life unbearable, and she wasn’t going to let the little twit ruin this for her daughters, not after everything she had already done to them. This time her daughters would shine, and they would finally have a happier life, the one she had hoped for when they first moved to this miserable place.
But Cinderella had read the letter herself and pointed out in that too-sweet, simpering voice of hers that the letter said that, by royal decree, every eligible maiden should attend the ball.
“Yes…So it does,” said Lady Tremaine. “Well, I see no reason why you can’t go…if you get all your work done.”
“Oh, I will! I promise,” said Cinderella.
“And if you can find something suitable to wear,” she added, knowing full well Cinderella had no ball gowns of her own.
“I’m sure I can! Oh, thank you, Stepmother.” Cinderella left the room smiling, no doubt with visions of marrying the prince dancing in her otherwise feather-filled head.
Lady Tremaine was satisfied. There was no way Cinderella would be able to finish all her housework, make a dress, and still have enough time to get ready for the ball. She touched her brooch happily, thinking about how it would break Cinderella’s heart to see them go to the ball without her. But her girls didn’t seem to catch on to their mother’s plan.
“Mother! Do you realize what you just said?” Drizella asked.
“Of course. I said if…” said Lady Tremaine, smirking.
The castle was everything Lady Tremaine had imagined. She felt at home there. It was the first time since she had left England that she felt like she was in familiar surroundings. She was even happy to see the gangly Grand Duke rushing about, though their first uncomfortable meeting years ago had made it impossible to become true friends, which would probably account for his not stopping to say hello to her and her daughters as they made their entrance. Well, this time if she had the opportunity she was going to make the grandest of impressions on him. They did know each other, after all, and her husband had been part of the court. Things were so odd in this kingdom; it never made sense to her that she hadn’t been invited to court before now, or that no one had sent their regrets at Sir Richard’s passing, or simply checked in to see if she and her girls were all right.
As she and her daughters stood in line waiting to be announced to the royal family, Lady Tremaine fussed over Drizella’s and Anastasia’s feathers and ruffles, making sure they looked perfect.
“Mother, please stop! You’re making me nervous,” said Anastasia, stamping her foot.
“I’m sorry, my darling. I just want you to look beautiful for the prince. I know he’s going to want to marry one of you. You’re the most beautiful girls here,” she said, looking around the room at all the other courtly ladies and gentlemen hoping their daughters would catch the eye of the prince.
“Oh, Mother, please! You know that’s not true,” said Drizella. “Look at all these beautiful girls, they’re all like Cinderella. We don’t stand a chance.” She sighed deeply.