I've always wondered why no one in the story questions how a scullery maid ended up at the ball with a gorgeous coach and gown, then reverted back to her former existence with almost no trace. This is my take on what might have happened if someone had brought up the issue.

Lady Tremaine sat on the stair, numb. A tiny corner of her mind registered the hush as the king led Cinderella out the door, his statement to his waiting men, the ensuing loud cheers. The few minutes after that were a succession of muffled conversations between the king and the captain, the captain and the soldiers, and the tramping of feet. That's what she later would remember most: the tramping of horses' feet on the driveway, of people tramping in and out the front door, of soldiers tramping all over her house, including up the stairs right by her. She just sat there, still trying to absorb what had just happened. At some point the Grand Duke started yelling. Looking down, she saw soldiers fastening shackles onto his wrists. Anastasia and Drusilla were not in sight, but after the Duke started his protests she heard their panicky squeals coming from the parlor; no doubt they were wondering if they were next.

It was their shrieks that finally broke through her numbness and she slowly rose, smoothing her skirt and brushing a stray hair out of her face. She started to arrange her features in her usual gracious smile – a feat that took much more effort than usual - when she saw a soldier at the bottom of the stairs staring at her. Had he been there the entire time watching her? He called to a soldier exiting the parlor and spoke quickly to him, his gestures and glances indicating that she was the subject of the conversation. The other soldier nodded quickly, went out the front door and, just as she reached the bottom of the staircase, returned with the captain.

"Madam," he spoke in an icy tone.

"Yes, Captain, I was hoping we might speak for a moment. In private." Ever the planner, she had had a story ready in case the Grand Duke's plans had been exposed prior to the king's wedding Princess Chelinna and Cinderella's being consigned to the Grand Duke's care; although she had not anticipated the precise turn events had taken, it should suffice.

"While I do wish to speak to you, Madam, it will not be in private. Please give me some time to assemble a scrivener and witnesses and you may speak as much as you wish." He turned to go, then pivoted back to the two waiting soldiers. "Please take the lady into a room where she may sit. But not the parlor."

Oh, so he did not want her communicating with her daughters. "Captain, may I check on my daughters' well-being first?" she asked, her face now a mask of motherly concern. "I am worried the excitement of this afternoon may have an adverse effect on their health."

"They are fine, Madam," the Captain answered, and gestured for her to join him in the parlor doorway. Indeed, Drusilla and Anastasia were both seated on the couch, surrounded by four soldiers arrayed around the room. Drusilla was dropping as many objects as possible to get the nearest soldier to pick them up and return them to her, at which point she batted her eyelashes rapidly and gave extravagant praise to the man, who looked extremely uncomfortable and backed away as quickly as possible. Anastasia was ostensibly reading a book, but peeking over the top and watching the other three soldiers like a cat about to pounce.

Lady Tremaine smiled graciously at the Captain. "Yes, they seem to be in quite capable hands."

The Captain nodded at her, then nodded at the soldiers to take her. The led her into the dining room, where she seated herself at the head of the table, with her back to the window. Anyone entering would have a difficult time seeing her expression with the backlighting.

As she waited, she looked around the room with a sense of satisfaction. She had replaced the wallpaper and furniture within a few months of moving in; the chandelier also was her addition. The few remaining pieces – some old-fashioned candlesticks and keepsakes on the mantle – had been exiled to the attic with Cinderella (Ella, she thought. I must remember to refer to her as Ella). All remnants of Cinderella's (no, Ella's) mother had been thoroughly scrubbed away, replaced with fashion and modernity. This was Lady Tremaine's room, and no one else's, and sitting at the head of the table she felt her confidence and command returning.

The sun progressed through the sky and just as she started wondering if she should request food, the door opened and the Captain entered, followed by three soldiers and three civilians. Two of the civilians she recognized – the local magistrate and a member of the town council. The third, in a worn suit with ink-stained hands, must be the scrivener.

The Captain strode to the far side of the table. "Madam, would you be so kind as to move to this side of the table? The scrivener will need as much light as possible." His words were gracious, but his tone was still cold. She thought of objecting for a moment, but knew she would lose the battle and start to lose her credibility in the process.

She stood and deliberately walked to the chair the Captain had pulled out for her, gracefully lowering herself with a murmured word of thanks. She would remain a lady, no matter what.

"Madam, I have requested that Magistrate Harkazy and Councilman Gabillon join us as witnesses for your statement," the Captain resumed. Magistrate Harkazy was kind enough to summon his scrivener. I trust that you have no objections to my choice of witnesses?"

"Of course not," she murmured, smiling warmly at all three men.

"Excellent," the captain stated. "Magistrate, would you please administer the oath and we shall begin?"

Lady Tremaine smiled to herself. Perhaps she still could regain the upper hand.

To be continued…