Once upon a Time…
Margaret Hale used to live in the most beautiful place on Earth, together with the dearest family one could ever wish for. Her golden days were spent strolling around the forest, deciphering shades of green with her brother, learning purple hues with her mother's embroidery and shaping the most wonderful stories her father read to her with rainbow colors. Those were days spent in bliss and never a single worry occurred to the beautiful girl's eternal spring, for she was a most beloved creature amongst all of those who made her acquaintance, and only knew of goodness and warmth.
At the age of sixteen, however, young Miss Hale would learn of the sadder tones of the world. It was only a change of seasons after her brother left to explore the summer blue seas with his new captain. They managed to exchange a couple of letters that Margaret read every evening, recounting the adventures Fred has lived so far. It was so exciting, neither she nor her parents ceased to be amused every night by the tales retold. Since his letter was most handled by all, every other week Margaret would copy it anew on parchment, the words taking a breath of fresh air with every stroke of her feather pen.
Until one day, a black and yellowed paper turned their lives towards an unforeseen path. The colors seemed to all turn to mud as they were informed that their sweet, rosy Fred was painted as the head of a mutiny in his ship. All sailors rebelled against their captain and a handful of superiors, throwing them out in a boat to wander at sea, and were now considered utmost traitors of the country. Margaret has never seen color drain so fast from skin as her mother lost her footing, her father immediately holding her up, although barely managing to keep his stance up himself.
At that time she learned doubt and fear, feelings that settled deep inside her, and didn't seem to go away so easily. They stuck around, heavying her pace, covering their once cheerful household in a thick fog that seemed to make the air like sludge. There was no vibrancy anymore, not even the early autumn leaves had the courage to irradiate an orange so bright, settling in a strange, abated hue.
Her mother waited on the path beyond their gates every single day. There would have to come a time, she mused, when Fred would be back, so she waited and waited. One day – although no one knew how many days or weeks past – he did. Burnished and weighted down, the prodigal son returned, to finally bring a burst of happiness back. But it didn't last long – couldn't, for his actions were brandished as treason by the state, although for all the wrong reasons. His last act of shining bravery was to reach for his family, try and give them some much needed breath, and then leave – perhaps forever.
After he left, the muddied colors started fading. It gave every surface Margaret gazed upon an ineffable quality – a new word that broadened her small world so – albeit with a gloomy tinge.
It was the talk of the town how the once beautiful Miss Beresford was now colorless, a dull little thing with no more regard towards life. Margaret and her father watched every day how she wilted and wilted until she was no more, parting from her daughter with a last advice: "My dear child, be pious and good, and know that I will always look down upon you from heaven". Her no longer presence left a big crimson gash in their hearts, a wound her father never seemed to recover from.
Margaret held on fast to her mother's last words and took it as a promise to live as her mother asked. And so she did, watching the time go by while trying to bring goodness and joy to her dear father. One day, as she sat by her window contemplating when the whiteness would finally melt so that her dear greens could start picking up again, father cleared his throat, stopping her dangling feet.
"Margaret, dear" she looked up, "I decided it is time for a much needed change."
And change it was, drastic enough to knock out her breath for a few seconds. And like a whirlwind, passing so fast and so suddenly that only when her feet touched the northern station did she finally notice how many shades between black and white there could possibly be. Milton was a challenge to the senses, everything that Margaret could never imagine. And unfairness was a long forgotten word that made a vindictive return. Careful as not to be swallowed by the rustle and bustle of the big city, she cautiously recomposed herself, holding her head high as she once learned, and faced the unknown territory bravely, with only goodness in her heart. And through all the stares and whispers, all she could think of was her mother's sweet voice, and her own promise that no matter how life would treat her, she'd strive to unfold beauty in the world, and think of all with kindness.
oOo
"Call me aunt" she once said, "Stepmother sounds like such a terrible thing". Indeed, it did, and indeed, it fitted her better, Margaret thought with resent. The last year of her life seemed to have crumbled all the way to its current state – a continued path of discovery towards the obscurest places of the human heart.
Every night she sat with her father (the only precious time she spent with him these days) and prayed and prayed that she could continue to be the good daughter her mother wished her to be. Each day was trying, as if pushing Margaret to break her promise. And sometimes it managed to succeed, leaving her devastated as she retired to her rooms.
It has been barely past spring when Mr. Hale took a new wife. Although Margaret was all sunny disposition to meet with her, she was left sorely disappointed after their first meeting. Mrs. Shaw was a rambunctious lady, so as not to say flimsy and ostentatious. Her previous husband was a very rich man, and left her a very rich widow. There was no reason Margaret could think of that would paint kindly Mrs. Shaw's interest in her father. He wasn't wealthy – or healthy, for the matter – and his quiet ideas of livings didn't match the woman in the least. It wasn't long after the wedding that she started showing her true colors to the young Miss Hale.
Her father's new wife came with a daughter, beautiful, fair thing that she was, Edith's heart knew nothing but selfishness. Her pale, nimble fingers were full of greed, claiming everything they touched – books, diaries, jewelries, shawls, dresses, all of Margaret's dear handkerchiefs, nearly all of her memories from her brother and mother. It was an amusement to aunt having Margaret so dispirited after her room being raided token after token – for what, she never really found out, didn't even enter the other women's chambers out of respect, even when they would never do the same for her.
Mr. Hale was too weak to take any notice of what was happening in his household. He married out of worry for his daughter when he passed – unknowingly making sure she would spend those days in injustice. So Margaret did what she knew, treated him with kindness, hid the last of her treasures, and endured the poor treatment on her own, praying and believing everything would turn out for the better.
It didn't.
Widow to the late Mr. Shaw, Madam Hale now stood beside Margaret and Edith as the body of Mr. Hale was lowered to the ground (she never really got used to the Mrs. Hale title, nor did Margaret – who could only think how it soiled her mother's memory). Having donned black for the second time in such a short period, Margaret and her stepfamily couldn't have more disparate feelings about the new quality of their silks. Madam Hale was resolved to have the bare minimum period of mourning before she resumed her social activities back, and was already arranging an order for a full, fresh wardrobe for the upcoming summer. Edith was to be relieved in a month's time, to be engaged to a certain Captain Lennox.
Margaret was left in the basement with two graying cotton gowns and a damp bed.
AN: Say what, a Cinderella!AU? Well, yes indeed! I just couldn't resist, so please bear with me here. I'm loosely basing this on miscelaneous sources, mainly the brothers Grimm's version, where the title comes from, but with a touch of the latest movie and the Disney animation. As for North and South itself, it's a mix between the book and the series, but the plot will obviously be very different from both. I do hope you enjoy it!