Such Luxury

As the royal carriage clattered down the cobbled road, the voice of a dragoon of their escort raised in song and accompanied by the taut strains of a mandolin, slipped past the velvet curtains and in through the windows.

The blushing bride is looking fine,

The bridegroom he is doing fine,

I'd rather have his job than mine,

When I'm cleaning windows

Eugene rolled his eyes. "I can stop that, if you like."

Cinderella smiled. "No, it's fine; it's only a song after all."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"As long as they're not actually spying on us in the...in the bedroom," Cinderella murmured. The truth was...the truth was that it wasn't the wedding night that worried her most, although that was a source of uncertainty and trepidation for her. But if the marital bed-chamber was shrouded in mystery for Cinderella that mystery was less nerve-inducing for her than the prospect of everything else. She felt as though happiness and fear were waging war within her heart, surging back and forth like two armies evenly matched in courage and numbers and the quality of their weapons contesting the same ground over and over again unable to drive off their foes and secure a decisive victory.

Every time Eugene looked at her although she was the sun and he the flowers that opened to her light, every time he time he kissed her then happiness made great gains because, really, what reason did she have not to be happy? She was married to a wonderful man, she was free and she was loved and all things were perfect in the garden of her private. But then, like shadows closing in around the candle as the tallow burns low, doubts and fears and uncertainty crept back in frm the corners of her soul. Two weeks alone with him - apart from the servants - sounded so bissfully wonderful except...how would she entertain him for all that time? Would he not grow bored with after just a few days with no distractions to disguise the fact that she was but a passive, listless girl with nothing to distinguish her? And if she bored him, as she probably would, what then?

These are your Stepmother's words, not yours.

Cinderella knew that, she could recognise st least in part the thoughts that were born out of her Stepmother's house and cruelty...but that did not make it any easier to fight them off, nor could she simply banish them by denial. They were a part of her and would be, if not forever then for a long time at least. She could not be rid of them. All she could do was remember - or believe, at least (no, stop that, it isn't. Eugene told you so himself, this very day!) - that they were false fears planted in her head by a false woman; even if one who - and this was nearly as hard to admit as recognising just how she had effected Cinderella and mind - could have been much worse.

"You're very quiet," Eugene observed. "A penny for them?"

Cinderella was not about to give him all her thoughts - she would not burden him with all her indecision and her struggle, but only those parts of herself that he could love - and so she said, "I was thinking about me Stepmother and stepsisters, and how they could have treated me far worse than they did."

Eugene's eyebrows rose. "I'm finding that difficult to believe, from what you've told me."

"Yes, they made me their servant in my own house but at least I still had a house," Cinderella replied. "Look at Angelique, look at Jean. Their clothes are falling apart, they have no roof over their heads...if I had been

One of them..." Would we ever have met? She almost asked him, but did not because it was not so simple a question as it seemed because, of course, a scullery maid should never have gotten within a hundred yards of the crown prince either. Would a fairy godmother still have shone her light upon a homeless girl? Would she even have known there was a ball that night without her tenuous connection to the eigible maidens of the Tremaine family?

And of course, there was the fact that she still hadn't told Eugene how exactly she had gotten to the ball in the first place, an omission that she should probably rectify. She had no problem keeping a few secrets from him, but too many insignificant ones would choke their marriage. Yet how to explain magic without seeming mad? On the other hand, if a claim of talking mice that she could not prove had not made him think her fit for the asylum what more harm would talk of magic do?

See what you have done to me, Stepmother? I can do nothing, not even mount a defence of your behaviour, without my thoughts flying into a whirl because I cannot tell which fears I should be genuinely wary of and which are phantoms!

"Cinderella?" Eugene said. "Are you alright?"

Cinderella forced herself to smile and hoped that it seemed genuine. "I was just saying...they could have turned me out onto the street like Jean and Angelique and so many other poor people who have not even the meagre comforts I enjoyed; but they didn't, and I suppose I owe them thanks for that."

"One doesn't thank someone for reaching a basic level of humanity," Eugene said sharply. "She ought to have love you like a daughter."

"I know," said Cinderella, in a tone as gentle as a morning breeze. "But since she hated me instead...I should probably be grateful that her hate was limited to the bounds that she set on it."

Eugene frowned. "So what will you do?"

"I don't know yet," Cinderella confessed. "I just feel that I ought to do something."

It was getting dark by the time they arrived at the Summer Palace where they would spend their honeymoon. A few lanterns were lit in the windows, shining like the beacon of a lighthouse out into gathering gloom to guide their carriage and their escort hither like a stately ship guided to safe harbour in the teeth of a storm, but otherwise there was little that Cinderella could see of the place where she would spend the next two weeks. There was not even much of a silhouette, with the sunlight fading and the sky clouding darkly over, for her to really get a sense of the scale or otherwise of this place.

"It's a little dark for a grand tour, I think you'll agree," Eugene said as he helped her down from the carriage. "Which is a bit of a pity, but there's always tomorrow, but for now-"

Cinderella felt a drop of rain land on her hand, followed swiftly by another landing on the white sleeve of her dress, leaving a minute grey blotch upon the silk.

"For now you should probably get out of the rain," Eugene concluded as he ushered her inside the house through the front door was that already open to receive them. Cinderella got some impression of a large shape looming over the open portal – some kind of gargoyle or the like – but she had no clear view in the dark and no time to get a better one, as it was she got inside just before the heavens opened up upon the house an grounds, deluging both alike with a constant stream of water from above.

"Oh dear," Cinderella said. "All those men outside, and the servants…"

"I'm sure they'll manage somehow," Eugene declared breezily. "Though I hope it clears up before it turns the grounds to a quagmire."

Cinderella couldn't help but feel that he was being awfully dismissive of what it was actually like to, for example, unload a carriage in the teeth of a rainstorm (yes, she was glad to be inside where the torrent wasn't going to ruin her dress, but she also remembered the time when she had had to perform that difficult task in those odious circumstances, and how much she would have appreciated some assistance). It was true that many hands might make light work, and it was also true that most of the baggage had gone on ahead in an earlier coach with Duchamp and Planchet, Eugene's valet; but…well, the trouble with justifications was that you could justify almost anything with them. Probably her stepsisters could have justified could have justified leaving her to get drenched while they rushed inside but that hadn't made it any more pleasant for her.

And that wasn't even mentioning the dragoon guards.

"Are you sure there isn't something I-"

"You're not a servant any longer," Eugene said, firmly though not unkindly. "You needn't do these things any more." He took her by the arm and led her into the house. Most of it was dark, corridors illuminated by only a few candles set in sconces on the walls so that Cinderella and Eugene cast long shadows as they walked between the darkness and the patches of light that displayed some of the golden threads on the crimson and azure carpets, or the faces of the portraits on the walls staring down at them, or the armour standing sentinel beside the doorways. The sound of their own feet was utterly drowned out by the thumping pounding of the rain upon the roof.

Eugene led her to the master bedroom, lit up by a pair of flickering candles set beside the enormous bed with its purple hangings; scarlet curtains were drawn most of the way to keep the darkness out, with flickers of the dying light of day creeping in through the cracks between the cloth. A dressing table of old black oak sat beside the window, and upon the table itself there crouched a large walnut box with brass inlay that reflected some of the candlelight that reached across the room, and a tiny key set in the lock at the front of the chest.

"Open it," Eugene said. "It's yours."

Cinderella picked up her skirt with one hand as she walked across the tigerskin rug to the dressing table. She did not sit, but bent down a little over the dressing table to try the box which, unlocked already by some other hand, opened to her touch.

She gasped at the glittering sight that met her eyes. It was a jewellery box, and one moreover that was absolutely full to bursting in every miniature compartment that slid out from the main, in every divided compartment, in every inch of space, in every nook and cranny there was some beautiful thing that her gaze could linger on: diamonds, pearls, sapphires, even a few rubies and emeralds and gemstones set in gold and silver. Necklaces, bracelets – she could set at once the diamond bracelet Eugene had given her on the day of their carriage ride, but there were so many others too, ranging from single strands of tiny diamonds upon a chain to enormous stacks of large stones that looked as though they would cover half her forearm if she wore them – rings, earrings, even a couple of tiaras. And they were so beautiful. They glittered, sparkled and shone before her eyes and they were hers and…and she could hardly believe it.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so-"

She stopped as she felt Eugene's arm around her waist, his lips on her shoulder, then on her neck, kissing upwards towards her face. He turned her around so that she was facing him as he kissed on the lips once, twice, then again, making her gasp, making her moan with pleasure when their tongues met and then…and then he started to undo her bodice.

The rain had stopped, thankfully. There was no sound of water dancing on the roof, not even so much as a pitter-patter; even the clouds had gone, and the moonlight came in through the gaps in the curtains to fall on Cinderella as she slept huddled up beside him, with her arms resting on his chest and her head nestled against him.

Eugene watched her, the way the moonlight fell on her skin she seemed almost inhuman, a fae creature sent to bewitch and enchant him. The gold of her rings, that she had never gotten around to taking off even if she had wanted to, sparkled upon her finger. If she was a fairy temptress, then had bound her to him all the same.

Gently, ever so gently, so as not to disturb her beautiful slumber, Eugene ran one hand through her hair. It felt so soft against his fingertips.

Strange, he mused, how someone so beautiful, so small compared to him, so frail and delicate seeming could hide so many secrets, so many…lies.

No, lie was too harsh a word. Better by far to stick with secrets. Eugene didn't know exactly what she was hiding from him, but he knew that she was hiding something. It was clear in the way that she spoke, or rather the way that she didn't speak, her hesitations and long silences. She was choosing her words carefully, and there were times when there was almost as much weight in what she did not say as in what she said.

Still, he did not blame her for that; he bore her no malice for it. The things she had told him, the things that he believed to be true, were reason enough for her to keep her remaining secrets hidden. Living that way, in that house, he could hardly imagine it…and doing so with the burden of things that would have seemed strange in the most loving and utopian of circumstances, well…

Besides, it wasn't as if he had been absolutely open and honest with her in all details. There were things that he kept from her, kept from the whole world save for Etienne, and he would continue to do so not because he didn't trust Cinderella, not because he wanted to hurt her, but because…because there were some things that he thought it best to keep to himself, just as there were things that Cinderella thought it best to keep to herself and there was nothing he could do about it…except hope that one day she would trust him enough to reveal herself to him…and earn that trust of her, if need be.

He wondered idly if she thought she was actually slipping things past him. She really wasn't all that good at keeping secrets.

And that, in its own way, was a comforting thought.

Cinderella gripped the folds of her tulle skirt between her forefingers and thumbs, swaying first this way, and then that before the mirror. "What do you think?"

The bodice was white, save for the pink dark pink (so dark, in fact, that it was on the very of becoming maroon) sleeves and neckline that clung to the edges of her shoulders and encircled her body even as they left her arms bare to the wrist-length gloves upon her hands. The skirt, separated from the bodice visually if not in fact by the sash of light pink silk tied into a bow at the back of her waist, was a blush pink colour growing deeper and more pronounced the closer to the ankle-length hem it became, while the fabric itself had a translucent quality, so that it required the two layers of petticoat beneath to prevent Cinderella's legs from being visible to the world. Her slippers where high-heeled, and white, with pretty pink bows atop the toe.

Duchamp pursed her lips together for a moment. "If I may, Your Highness, I do wish you'd let me do something more regal with your hair."

Cinderella's hair fell down loosely to her shoulders, restrained only by a simple white hairband with a little bow on top. She smiled, and chuckled a little as she petted it briefly with one white-gloved hand. "It isn't as if I'm wearing it this way to a ball or a banquet, Duchamp. Besides, I like it this way, and if Eugene minded…I'm sure he'd tell me."

"Very well, ma'am, I shall say no more," Duchamp murmured. "Now, if you'll sit back down then we can discuss your jewellery."

Cinderella frowned ever so slightly. "Do I need to wear any? I'm already wearing my wedding ring." And her engagement ring as well, they both sparkled on her gloved finger when she raised her hand.

"I think, ma'am, that it would look strange if you wore none of it, having received so much," Duchamp said tactfully.

"Yes, I see what you mean," Cinderella murmured, and glided back to the dressing table. Eugene had washed first, and had dressed while Cinderella was washing, and now he had vacated the bedroom while she dressed and was waiting for her in the dining room, where she would join him when she was ready. It seemed a little ridiculous to wear a fortune in jewellery down to breakfast, but then…when Cinderella thought of it that way she realised that exactly the same could be said about a dress like this. But she didn't want to have to get dressed twice, and she wasn't sure what Eugene had in mind for the rest of the day.

She sat down, and gazed into the open jewellery box and all its glittering contents. "How on earth do I choose between all this?"

Duchamp clasped her hands together in front of her. "Why don't we start with the larger question, ma'am, of what kind of gem you'd like today? Diamonds, pearls, sapphires?"

"Do I have to only choose just one of those?" Cinderella asked. "What if just wanted to wear the necklace and bracelet Eugene gave me?"

"Your Highness, His Highness has given you everything you see before you."

"I know, Duchamp, I just meant…" Cinderella hesitated for a moment. Things were much simpler when I only had one dress to wear. So many decisions! She had been presented with a stuffed wardrobe and asked to choose a dress. She had been asked whether she wanted to wear heels or flats. She had been asked how she wanted her makeup. Now she was being asked to choose which fabulously beautiful necklace to wear. So many decisions.

Oh, yes, I'm so terribly off. Woe is me. Of course, that was all self-pitying nonsense. She had nothing to complain about, least of all that she had too many luxurious options to choose from when it came to dresses, shoes and jewellery. There were people whose lives had not been rendered simpler in the least by the absence of such things, people who suffered far more than she did.

And that, in truth, was what made the matter of choosing which glittering adornments for her body so hard…because when she had first set eyes upon the glittering contents of this elegant box she had been swept away by the beauty of it all, the beauty that she had always loved to look upon, the way that she had once spent half an hour dawdling in town with her nose pressed against the jewellery shop window admiring everything on display that was beyond her reach until the owner threatened to call the constable on her. It had been so wonderful to see it, to have it, that she could only gasp in delight at the reversal of her fortunes. But now, in the warm light of a lovely day, she could only look down at this king's ransom in jewels and wonder to herself, how can I possibly deserve this?

Indeed, how could anyone possibly deserve this? This was no side-effect of her Stepmother's tuition, this was more than that. She said wonder to herself, because she could hardly raise this with Duchamp, but she would speak about it to Eugene this morning; yes, that was for the best.

It might look a little hypocritical to do that while she was wearing some of the items in question but, well, according to Duchamp it could not be helped.

Or perhaps I just didn't want to tell her no because I do want all of this, deep down and not so deep.

"I understand what you mean, ma'am," Duchamp said. "I'm sorry, ma'am, it's not my place to…I spoke out of turn, please forgive me."

"Of course," Cinderella replied absently, her mind upon other things.

"Since you know half of what you want quite well," Duchamp continued. "I think…pearls for the neck and ears but diamonds for the wrists, how does that sound?"

It sounds wonderful and wrong at the same time, Cinderella thought. "That sounds fine, Duchamp, thank you."

Duchamp wove what Cinderella thought of as 'the wedding necklace' of luminous pearls and sparkling sapphire heart around her neck, complimented by a pair of gleaming pearl earrings fastened to her ears. Upon her right arm, Cinderella wore the diamond bracelet that Eugene had given her on that day, when she had accused him of spoiling her rotten (if only she had known then what was to come), and on the left, a slightly larger, slightly heavier bracelet, four rows but larger diamonds; it weighed…strangely, upon Cinderella's arm, this cold loveliness. She had never worn quite like it before, it felt a little like it was dragging at her.

"There you are, ma'am, absolutely splendid," Duchamp said.

"Yes, thank you Duchamp, you chose very well," Cinderella said, smiling into the mirror in spite of her thoughts. She stood up. "And now, I shouldn't keep Eugene waiting any longer…except that I've no idea where he is."

Duchamp smiled. "Don't worry about that, ma'am. Marine!"

The door into the bedroom opened, as a maid stood in the doorway and curtsied. "You called, mademoiselle Duchamp."

"Show Her Highness to the dining room, please Marine," Duchamp said.

"Of course, mademoiselle. If you'll follow me, Your Highness."

"Of course," Cinderella murmured, as she followed Marine down two long corridors and a flight of stairs of a palace that, though it had seemed so grim and forbidding in the dark, was in the morning sunshine so much brighter and more airy than the main palace that Cinderella could hardly believe it. Light fell in through windows more than twice as high as she was tall, illuminating every mote of dust falling to the floor, every strand on the scarlet-and-gold carpet and displaying the hint of blue within the diamonds on her ring and bracelets. She followed Marine until they stood before an oak-panelled door with a brass handle.

"Here, we are, Your Highness," Marine murmured.

"Yes," Cinderella said. "Here we are." She stood in front of the doorway, making no effort to go in, fussing with the diamond bracelets on her wrists for an inordinately long amount of time until she realised that Marine had not only noticed the delay, but was staring at her.

The maid looked down at her feet. "Begging your pardon, Your Highness."

"It's alright," Cinderella replied. "I was just…I suppose I'm a little nervous." She gave the sapphire heart in the centre of her necklace a quick tug, to get it into just the right position. "Thank you, Marine, I would have been hopelessly lost without you."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Cinderella reached out, grasped the brass handle, and opened the door into the dining room. Her tulle skirt rose and fell in airy and graceful rhythm with the movement of her legs as she walked in.

Eugene was seated at the head of the table in a red velvet jacket and an ivory cravat, reading the newspaper, but no sooner had she walked in through the doorway then he rose to his feet. "Cinderella. Now you are a sight worth waiting for."

Cinderella felt her cheeks heating up a little, she bowed her head and looked down at the airy tulle skirt and silk petticoats obscuring her feet and her legs from view, at the white gloves on her hands where they were clasped together in front of her, at the diamonds sparkling on her arms that she did not know if she should ever wear.

She felt him kiss her on the forehead before he put his fingers underneath her chin and tilted it up so that she was looking at him. "Is something wrong?"

Cinderella nodded. "I need to ask you something."

"Of course. Why don't you sit down?" he said, ushering her to a chair beside his own. Ever the gentleman, he pulled her chair out for her, and then pushed it back in once she had sat down. He gave her a peck on the cheek, and then moved his own chair closer to her, so that he could easily reach out and rest his hand upon her arm. "Is something troubling you?"

"I…yes," Cinderella admitted. "These diamonds, the jewellery that you gave me-"

"It isn't quite right to say that I gave you that, except in the sense that you got it through our marriage," Eugene said. "It isn't a lover's gift, much as you deserve one. You are a princess now, the only woman in our family, the family jewels belong to you now. There is more back at the palace if I didn't choose the right pieces."

"There's more?" Cinderella gasped. "I could never…it really doesn't matter, or it does but…what I'm trying to say, what I wanted to talk to you about was, how can I have all this?"

"I told you-"

"I know that I'm your wife, and that makes me a princess now, but still," Cinderella said. "How can I possibly deserve so much when others have so little?"

Eugene's expression seemed at once to be both bemused and puzzled in equal measure. "I see," he said. "And I suppose that you would like an answer that is a little deeper or more sophisticated than 'that is the way things are' or something like that."

What I want is an answer that will let me wear these beautiful things I've craved for so long without feeling guilt gnawing at my stomach all the while, Cinderella thought. She simply nodded though, because she wanted an honest answer out of him, not one that he thought would please her.

Eugene looked into her eyes, and squeezed her arm tenderly. "Cinderella...we deserve to have these things because our ancestors earned them. Privilege is the birthright of nobility."

"I wasn't-"

"No, you weren't born to the purple, that's true of course," Eugene said. "But you were gently born for all the efforts of your stepfamily to deny it, and you are royally married what is more and it is my privilege as a husband to share with you the princely privileges that I have that are my birthright from my noble line. Do you understand?"

Cinderella shook her head. "Not really," she confessed, feeling rather stupid as she said it. "I mean...everyone has ancestors,"

"But ours were bolder and did greater things than those whose scions populate the streets and tend the looms and work the fields with plough and scythe," Eugene declared. "My ancestors raised this country up from out of nothing, protected its people, raised it to prosperity and ruled it well and for all these things we are entitled to the rich rewards that are due for a job well done. Think of it like this: if a man goes out to work he is entitled to be paid for the work that he has done; if he has a more difficult or demanding job than his neighbour then he is entitled to be paid more than his neighbour recieves. Now suppose that this hypothetical man takes home more money than he strictly needs to survive, and so he saves the excess and when he has saved enough he goes out and buys a necklace as a gift for his wife; who are you then to barge into his parlour and demand that he give the money to the poor instead? Who are you or I to say that he cannot pass the fruits of his labours on to his children?

"It is true that we of noble blood, even more so we who are royal, live our lives cushioned by vast privileges," he continued. "Palaces, lands, rents, a comfortable or even lavish civil list. But our responsibilities are just as great, we are the leaders of the land, the shepherds of the people, expected to take the lead in war, in politics. Our ancestors fought and bled to win these comfortable things and to pass them safely on to us and, if need be, we will fight and bleed to pass them on to our children."

Cinderella placed her hand lightly on top of his. "I understand, or at least I would if you were talking about one necklace like your hypothetical man...or even several. But the sheer ridiculous amount that we're speaking of...I could wear this many pieces each day and still not come to the end of all the baubles that are mine now by the time a year had gone by; doesn't that strike you as too much, much too much when Angelique has no shoes and Jean's stomach is empty?"

"Don't you want them?" Eugene asked.

"Do I want them? Of course I want them!" Cinderella exclaimed. "I want them so badly that I'm giving you a chance to convince me that I should keep all of them, all the beautiful rings and dazzling bracelets and lovely necklaces even though I know that if I was even half as kind as I've always liked to think I was then I...I would not keep them for another minute."

Eugene chuckled. "If you were not so tender-hearted you wouldn't care at all about such things, you'd simply take the gems and wear them proudly."

Cinderella said. "It can't be much better to be ineffectually well-meaning."

Eugene reversed his hand, so that he could hold hers in his palm. "Cinderella, even if you sold all the jewels in your jewellery box, all those in the royal vault including the crown jewels, even if you sold all your dresses and your shoes and dressed in rags as you once did there would still be poor in Armorique. A few fewer, perhaps, but only so long as the proceeds of the sales lasted. All that you would accomplish is to make yourself poor and powerless with them. You want to help, I understand that; but you cannot lead by example in this, no one will follow you and it wouldn't really help if you did. A princess has great influence, a voice that will be heard...but only if she looks the part. A princess in rags will not be taken seriously by anyone."

"So you're telling me that I should keep my jewels and luxuries because it will help people?" Cinderella said, a tad sceptically.

"No, I'm saying there are a hundred or more good reasons for you to keep them and no good reasons not to," Eugene replied. "Have I hit on one that convinces you yet?"

Cinderella looked down, at the diamonds glistening on her forearm. They sparkled so brightly. They looked so beautiful. They captivated her, so much so that it took a deliberate effort to look away. "I...I...I think you might have, whatever that says about me." She looked into his eyes. "So if not by sacrifice, how can I help?"

Author's Note: The main reason this chapter stops so suddenly is because my idea for how to continue involves a quick cut that will work better as the start of a new chapter than the continuation of this one. We will get the end of that conversation, however, as Cinderella works out just what kind of a princess she wants to be and how she can use her position to achieve her goals. That next chapter should be out fairly quickly.

Writing a defence of class privilege from the perspective of someone who is actually benefiting from it is very difficult, as you might imagine. If, say, Jean was asked to justify the luxuries that Cinderella and Eugene enjoy then I could put any amount of starry-eyed, deferential romanticism into his mouth (up until Angelique shut him up with a cutting remark, anyway) and you would probably believe that he believed it, but with Eugene, I have to be more careful because it would be very easy for him to sound self-serving about his easy life. Hopefully I didn't do too badly.

I very seriously writing a sex scene for this chapter, but the fact is that I've never written one before and I didn't want to ruin what I personally consider one of my best fanfics by shoving a bad lemon in the middle of it. Plus I think the rating is too low for that kind of thing.

I said in the last chapter that Cinderella's realisation that a lot of her insecurity was the result of her abusive upbringing would not magically overcome said insecurity, and hopefully I hit the balance of that reasonably well, and the same with her somewhat defence of her stepfamily.

I remain very grateful to the two regular reviewers, Darkmaster of the Arts and Thoughts-of-Joy-Dreams-of-Love for their comments, which help me know if I'm keeping everything on the rails and continuing to hold their interest.