but she’s nothing more than a spoiled child. The way she treated you is just as bad as the way she treats me, Raoul. And if she thinks you smell bad after working with the horses, I suggest you pay her a visit after you’ve been mucking out the pig sty.”
Raoul’s lips gave a reluctant twitch. “You’re trying to tell me I’m being an idiot,” he said.
“No,” I replied. “I’m trying to tell you Anastasia is one. The fact that she hurt your feelings doesn’t make her right, you know.”
“I do know that,” Raoul said. “It’s just—”
“It’s just that even idiots sometimes have a way with words,” I said. “And some words have sharp tongues. I know.”
“I
am
being an idiot,” Raoul said.
“Well, if you insist,” I replied. I picked up the empty laundry basket, settled it onto one hip. “I should go back inside. Just this morning, Anastasia suddenly discovered half a dozen dresses in immediate need of mending. She’ll pitch a fit if I don’t at least get starred on them.”
Before I quite realized what he intended, Raoul leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. I felt my face flame, put my hand to the spot, as if to hold the kiss in place.
“What was that for?”
“To thank you,” Raoul replied, his own cheeks ruddy now. Displays of affection were rare between us, between Raoul and anyone. “You’re a good friend to have, Rilla.”
“As are you,” I said. “And I’m going to remind you of those fine words the next time I annoy you.”
A light I knew very well came into Raoul’s eyes. “Maybe you should just start now.”
I laughed suddenly, threw my arms around his neck, and kissed him back. “I’ll see you at supper,” I said. “Don’t forget to wash up.”
“Oh, I intend to,” Raoul said. “But first, I think I’ll just go and see how the pigs are doing.”
He was whistling as he turned on his heel and sauntered across the courtyard.
“Oh, Cendrillon,” Anastasia said as I entered her room in obedience to the bright
come in
that had answered my knock. “There you are. I was beginning to think this dreadful March wind had blown you out to sea, you were taking so long.”
She was standing at the window, staring out toward the water, wearing a white dress with pale pink flowers embroidered all over it. It was the perfect foil for her dark beauty. All of a sudden, I felt a strange lump in my throat. Would I be beautiful, too, if I had a dress like this? If I had dozens of them? What might I look like, if I could dress like the nobleman’s daughter that I was?
In the next second, I grew ashamed of myself.
Perhaps you shouldn’t be so quick to think you know yourself or anyone else, Cendrillon,
I thought. Jealousy had never been a part of my nature, not until Anastasia had arrived.
She turned from the window. “I am waiting,” she said, in a tone like cold, clear glass. I could almost feel the way it pressed against me, trying to find a way to cut.
I hesitated, sensing the trap, but unable to see how I could avoid stepping into it anyhow. I gave up the struggle and spoke.
“For what?”
“Not even you can possibly be so stupid,” Anastasia snapped. “For my apology, of course.”
“Your apology!” I exclaimed before I could help myself. Abruptly, I could feel my own temper start to rise. I was spending hours agonizing over how to tell Anastasia, her mother, and her sister the truth about who I was in a way that wouldn’t hurt their feelings, and this vain and silly girl stood there in her finery demanding an apology for only she knew what.
“Why on earth should I apologize to you? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“That is a matter of opinion,” Anastasia huffed. “As servants do not have opinions, none that count anyway, the only opinion in this room is mine. And I say you owe me an apology for keeping me waiting. You are here to serve me, not to chat in the yard with foul-smelling stable boys.”
“Raoul is not foul-smelling,”
Raoul’s lips gave a reluctant twitch. “You’re trying to tell me I’m being an idiot,” he said.
“No,” I replied. “I’m trying to tell you Anastasia is one. The fact that she hurt your feelings doesn’t make her right, you know.”
“I do know that,” Raoul said. “It’s just—”
“It’s just that even idiots sometimes have a way with words,” I said. “And some words have sharp tongues. I know.”
“I
am
being an idiot,” Raoul said.
“Well, if you insist,” I replied. I picked up the empty laundry basket, settled it onto one hip. “I should go back inside. Just this morning, Anastasia suddenly discovered half a dozen dresses in immediate need of mending. She’ll pitch a fit if I don’t at least get starred on them.”
Before I quite realized what he intended, Raoul leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. I felt my face flame, put my hand to the spot, as if to hold the kiss in place.
“What was that for?”
“To thank you,” Raoul replied, his own cheeks ruddy now. Displays of affection were rare between us, between Raoul and anyone. “You’re a good friend to have, Rilla.”
“As are you,” I said. “And I’m going to remind you of those fine words the next time I annoy you.”
A light I knew very well came into Raoul’s eyes. “Maybe you should just start now.”
I laughed suddenly, threw my arms around his neck, and kissed him back. “I’ll see you at supper,” I said. “Don’t forget to wash up.”
“Oh, I intend to,” Raoul said. “But first, I think I’ll just go and see how the pigs are doing.”
He was whistling as he turned on his heel and sauntered across the courtyard.
“Oh, Cendrillon,” Anastasia said as I entered her room in obedience to the bright
come in
that had answered my knock. “There you are. I was beginning to think this dreadful March wind had blown you out to sea, you were taking so long.”
She was standing at the window, staring out toward the water, wearing a white dress with pale pink flowers embroidered all over it. It was the perfect foil for her dark beauty. All of a sudden, I felt a strange lump in my throat. Would I be beautiful, too, if I had a dress like this? If I had dozens of them? What might I look like, if I could dress like the nobleman’s daughter that I was?
In the next second, I grew ashamed of myself.
Perhaps you shouldn’t be so quick to think you know yourself or anyone else, Cendrillon,
I thought. Jealousy had never been a part of my nature, not until Anastasia had arrived.
She turned from the window. “I am waiting,” she said, in a tone like cold, clear glass. I could almost feel the way it pressed against me, trying to find a way to cut.
I hesitated, sensing the trap, but unable to see how I could avoid stepping into it anyhow. I gave up the struggle and spoke.
“For what?”
“Not even you can possibly be so stupid,” Anastasia snapped. “For my apology, of course.”
“Your apology!” I exclaimed before I could help myself. Abruptly, I could feel my own temper start to rise. I was spending hours agonizing over how to tell Anastasia, her mother, and her sister the truth about who I was in a way that wouldn’t hurt their feelings, and this vain and silly girl stood there in her finery demanding an apology for only she knew what.
“Why on earth should I apologize to you? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“That is a matter of opinion,” Anastasia huffed. “As servants do not have opinions, none that count anyway, the only opinion in this room is mine. And I say you owe me an apology for keeping me waiting. You are here to serve me, not to chat in the yard with foul-smelling stable boys.”
“Raoul is not foul-smelling,”
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