A Cinderella in Narnia: chapter five

When I woke up again three hours later, stepmother and Susan had received an invitation. Edmund's mistress had invited them to afternoon tea with her ladies-in-waiting in the gardens. I didn't know that Edmund had a mistress. That saddened me more. Peter took notice and sent me a sympathetic look; until stepmother snapped him out. "Peter, make sure Lucy does all her chores while we're away. We shall be gone for four days. His Majesty's mistress wishes us to stay for the holiday." Stepmother told. YES! I thought. I get time alone from my stepmother and stepsister! I was thrilled but I tried so hard not to show that either.

I was never allowed to show any emotion in front of stepmother. I was glad I had Peter. I was allowed to be myself around him even though I was three years younger than him. Sometimes he just doesn't want me around because I talk too much, but when he's like today I'm allowed to talk to him and be myself. Stepmother took one look of disgust at me and scoffed. Susan did the same and followed her mother out. Peter and I looked at each other after they left. "I guess I better get started on my chores," I whispered.

Peter took hold of my arm. "I am going to get you over there so you can spend time with Edmund." Peter exclaimed. I was just stunned. "For once, I want to see you happy and not moping around."

"Peter, they'll be there though! They'll see me and sell me!" I cried, gripping onto his shirt. "You won't be able to stop it then!" I added. It was true. He didn't want to face the truth. "I'll do my chores like she asked. I don't want to be disobedient anymore."

He was reluctant. I knew he meant for the best but he would get in trouble for helping me. I would get in trouble for sneaking out. Stepmother hated it when Peter was so nice to me. She sometimes despised him too. I wanted to find out more why Susan was such a brat. Peter refused to tell me anything. Peter was nothing like his mother or sister. Maybe his father was like how he was; nice, charming, caring, loving, and protective (sometimes too much), no doubt handsome, and brave. Maybe my stepmother was different—once. I also wondered about her. If my father hadn't died, would she have been nicer to me? So many questions filled my head as I was cleaning the house.

I walked out doors and went to the barn to feed the pigs and the horses that remained. I found my father's old chest in the attic of the barn and looked through it. His sword was there. My favourite book was there; Lands of the West. It told dark tales of the people from the west and other folk-lore. His chest also held my mother's dress…her wedding dress, necklace and tiara that were given to her by her mother. I found my old silver that belonged to us before the war came around. Of course they still belonged to me, but stepmother never knew that father had hid them here, neither did I. Another thing that was interesting! His true will! I found it! I dared not read it. Stepmother had not seen the silver so I took that in for safe-keeping so she wouldn't find it. My mother's dress? Well, I'd come back for that. She was just as slim as me. So, I was most likely able to fit into the gown.

The barn door opened. Peter came up to the attic. "What are you doing?" he asked, coming over me. I jumped up and dropped the silver by accident from my rag. He backed away as I stood up and faced him; frightened. I didn't even know what he could do to me. "This is my father's chest…and my birthmother's. I'm allowed to look through it, aren't I?" I asked. Peter rolled his eyes and put the things back, including the silver. Now there was no hope! Peter sat on the chest after he closed it.

"Why is it so important for you to remember the past anyway?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest. I was still frightened and now upset. "Can't you just forget it?"

"Peter, they're my parents! My things are in there too!" I cried. "Why can't I ever have a single memory of my parents?! The only thing that I have was that nightmare from last night!"

He stood up. "Do you think that I ever think of my father?" he asked. I was in tears. Peter stood up. He held out his hand but I smacked it away. I ran back downstairs and finished feeding the animals and left the barn then. I ran into the house to my little attic. I felt miserable. I had two splinters from the wood in the barn. My back ached, I was dirty and sweaty. I dropped onto my bed sobbing and I turned over to face the wall and held myself as I cried. "Aslan, what have I done to deserve this? Why did my mummy have to leave me? Why did my father have to leave me?" I whispered. I heard footsteps coming up. "Lucy, can I talk to you?" Peter asked, knocking.

"Why?"

"Please, Lu? I just need to tell you."

I wiped my tears and let him come. He took me into his arms. "I do think of my father often. My mother just tells me to forget it. I was five when he died. When my father lay dying, he told me that I had to look after my family and my future family. I've kept to his oath. You're a part of my family. I'm sorry if I lost control. But, I brought this back to you." Peter whispered, as I dropped my head onto his chest. He handed me the silver and the book. "Do not let mother find these."

I kissed him on the cheek and hid them under a broken floor board. "Thank you so much, Peter. You don't know how much this means to me!" I exclaimed. He smiled.

"Come on; let's get something for you to eat. Since she is not here, I'll let you have whatever you like."

I felt like a child waking up on Christmas morning after Father Christmas has given a child a present. The maids in the kitchen gave me a hearty plate of food; it was a feast to me since I always get either hot oatmeal or cold oatmeal and a glass of water. I had three strips of bacon, some baked ham, lettuce, freshly steamed rice, and warm bread. I was in heaven now. "So, how are you feeling?" Peter asked, coming in after I finished another slice of bread with melted butter on it.

"Like I'm in paradise," I said, swooning. Peter laughed, smiled and kissed my forehead. "I've never had anything this good in ages, since father died four years ago."

"I can imagine. What do you want to do tomorrow? I'll clean up tomorrow and let you have the day off."

"I'd like to sleep and read my book, Lands of the West." I replied, after the kitchen maid took my empty plate away. "Are you sure though?"

"It'll be okay, Lucy. Trust me," he replied. He took hold of my hand again. I felt wanted for the first time. Peter's like a second father to me…well, not technically, but you know what I meant.

"I think I'll get some rest." I whispered. Peter nodded and I headed back up to the attic. I was so full and satisfied. I shut my window for the night since it was going to get chilly. I took of my dirty work dress and put on my night gown and slid into my bed. This time, I didn't wake up screaming or crying from a nightmare from my parents. I slept in till eight in the morning. I stretched some and then went to put on another dress for the day's work. I headed downstairs to prepare. Work…ugh. I hated work! Harvest season was coming shortly. I had to plow the fields…yes; I did that because stepmother had no other menservants to do the job. I got out of the house and walked over to the barn and got one horse and hooked him onto the plow. My day's work had just begun as I walked to the field bearing corn. I clicked my tongue to get the horse going so I could push the plow. He obeyed and we worked hard. It was midday when Peter came out of the house. I was already half way done when I dropped onto my knees and looked at my hands. I had blood and dirt on them. "Lucy!" Peter called out. "Why are you doing a man's job?"

He came running over and saw my hands. "No woman should have hands like that, I'll finish this."

"No, I can do it!" I demanded. A hush fell over him. I stood up and continued working the field until eight that night. I only remember then that Peter had said I was allowed a free day from work. I felt so stupid! Peter came into the kitchen. Two more days and stepmother and Susan would be back from their distractions. "Lucy, what were you thinking? You shouldn't be pushing yourself to that extremity of work!" he exclaimed as I got another delicious meal from the cook. He joined in for dinner too today.

"Your mother expects me to be the top worker here if I can get any freedom of moderation on my own, Peter! I am not allowed to do anything when she's around!" I explained.

"Then you have to have a secret life."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'll let you sneak out so you can see Edmund! Pretend that you are a courtier and go to him! He shall surely notice you and have you for his queen!" Peter told, making the plan as he spoke.

"It won't work!"

He was annoyed with me. I shut up then. "I'll make it work."

Those were the last of his words and the rest of our dinner was quiet.