Cinderella's Triumph

By the time that Lord Roux finally returned to the palace to see Cinderella again he had been keeping her waiting for an unconscionably long time. Six weeks in point of fact. Already word had returned to Cinderella that Frederica's father, King Henry of Normandie, had signed the treaty that Frederica had made, and that the mustering of Norman troops for Louisiana had begun.

The fact that in the amount of time that he had spent keeping Cinderella in the dark with no visible indicator of any progress towards the formation of a new government Cinderella had, if she said so herself – and she was aware that at least some of this was her vanity talking, but at the same time she also felt that she had a right to feel a little proud of what she had done, especially if it bore the fruits of victory that Frederica promised – she had accomplished a diplomatic coup that might well help Eugene win his war, well…it made her just a little irked, to say the least. It might not be going too far to say that Cinderella was feeling just a bit peeved with him.

Cinderella shivered in her summer dress. She could not receive the new Premiere in her dressing gown as she had received Frederica, but she missed it nonetheless. Though the weather was fine and the sun was bright, still she felt cold on her bare arms, a cold to make her tremble even if it didn't raise goosebumps on her skin. And her white silk gloves looked very pretty and elegant, but did not warm her hands at all.

As Lord Roux shuffled with excruciating slowness into the royal study, Cinderella glanced down for a moment at her arms. So thin. Too think to wear any jewellery now, for fear it would emphasise how scrawny she was getting.

I need to rest, Cinderella admitted. She felt so weary it was all she could do to walk from her room to the palace. I will rest, once this task is done.

I'll rest, and dream of Eugene's triumphant return.

Hopefully, Lord Roux's (eventual) return meant that things were about to get one step closer to the fulfilment of her plans.

Lord Roux approached the table at which Cinderella sat, but made no move to sit down himself.

He bowed his head. "Your Highness."

"My lord," Cinderella said, trying not to let any of her irritation with him into her voice. "Won't you please sit down?"

"I think not, highness, I do not expect to be here long."

"You don't?" Cinderella asked. She didn't understand why he thought this meeting would be quick, unless he didn't have very many names to get through and nothing to say about the law she wished put through the assembly. Such brevity might almost be refreshing, but it was not her experience of the way that politicians dealt with her, and if he had few names, well…had he not had enough time to gather all the names?

Cinderella gulped down some steaming hot tea, which had the virtue of clearing her throat for a moment like a dirty plate being washed clean by scalding hot water.

"My lord," she said. "Why don't you expect to be here long? Haven't you got all the names of your ministers to present for my approval?"

"Why would your highness think that I would have any names?"

Cinderella was rendered momentarily speechless. Even when she eventually found her voice, she found it stammering and hesitant from the shock. "Well…my lord, when last I saw you you had agreed to form a government-"

"With respect, highness, I said that I would endeavour to undertake to form a government. I did not definitely agree to undertake to form a government."

Cinderella felt like a drowning girl who, on being thrown a rope, had reached out for it only for the 'rope' to turn out to be a poisonous snake. "My lord…perhaps you had better tell me plainly what you mean."

"I am sorry, your highness, but I cannot form a government."

"You cannot?"

"There are…conflicts of personality that prevent it."

Cinderella's eyes widened. She felt…she felt livid to be perfectly honest. "You cannot form a government? My lord is there any reason why it took you so long to tell me this?"

"I have been endeavouring, your highness."

"You have been endeavouring for six weeks with no success?"

"I fear so, your highness."

Cinderella felt as though she might almost have been justified in screaming at him, but she contented herself with a very long sigh. "I take it that you are quite certain that it cannot be done."

"I am, your highness. Once again, I offer my apologies."

"I would sooner you offer me a list of names, my lord, I admit that I am very disappointed. I would have very much appreciated you letting me know much sooner."

"If I had come sooner, your highness, I would have advised you against the treaty that you have-"

"Please stop, my lord," Cinderella said sharply. Perhaps too sharply, but she couldn't help herself. It was too much. Far, far too much for him to turn up after six weeks of nothing and then presume to lecture her upon her conduct. "I have great confidence in the agreement made with Normandie to aid our soldiers. And besides, if you wished to influence my decision, my lord, you could have come sooner. Or sent me any word at all. Why didn't you reply to any of my messages?"

"I was very busy, highness."

"I see," Cinderella murmured. "Well…thank you for telling me this, my lord, but I am also very busy. As you predicted, this meeting is a short one. Goodbye."

He bowed his head. "Goodbye, your highness."

At least he didn't argue being dismissed, Cinderella thought, as she watched him leave.

What am I going to do now?

Cinderella sent for His Grace, to council her on what she should – no, what she could do about the constitutional impasse in which she suddenly found himself.

"I'm very sorry about the position in which you have been place, princess," he said, as he settled into his chair. "It is very unfortunate that things have turned out this way."

"Thank you, your grace, but I didn't ask you here so that you could be sympathetic," Cinderella said, quietly and a little hoarsely. She drank some more tea to clear her throat of phlegm for a moment. "I asked you to see me because I need your advice: what can I do now?"

His Grace was silent for a moment, pondering the question. "As far as I can see, princess, you have only two choices available to you: either dissolve the assembly and call an election-"

"But that will delay everything even further, by weeks more!" Cinderella protested. She frowned. "Forgive me, your grace, I should not have interrupted you."

"Quite alright, highness, I understand that you are impatient to see the tariff issue resolved," His Grace said easily. "In which case you might send for Sieur Robert and see if he is willing to resume the premiership."

"Really?"

"He has not been rejected by the Assembly or dismissed by your highness," His Grace said. "His having resigned of his own volition, there is no reason why he might not return. There is even precedent for it."

"I see," Cinderella murmured. "But…even if he did return, would he be willing to do what I wish of him? After all, he resigned rather than do it…are you saying that I should put aside what I know to be right?"

"No, princess, I am advising you that you might make the attempt. If Sieur Robert refuses, or if he is not willing to carry out the tasks that you wish of him…then you will have no choice at all."

"New elections," Cinderella said.

"Indeed, your highness."

Cinderella closed her eyes. She wasn't sure if she could keep doing this for however long it would take to organise and hold new elections, and then for to persuade whoever finally emerged on top to actually pass the law that she wanted them to put through. And considering that the winner would probably be one of the two men who were already on the field, how much chance was there of that?

Was it all hopeless? Could she see this through? There were times when it felt as through Grace's miracle concoction was the only thing still keeping her going.

I have to keep going. I made a promise to the people and they're relying on me to fulfil it. I have to keep going.

In which case…I don't really have a choice, do I?

"Thank you, your grace," Cinderella said, as she picked up her pen and dipped it into the inkwell. "You've been very helpful."

"I am at your service, your highness."

"I know," Cinderella said. "And I'm very grateful."

She began to write to Sieur Robert.

Whatever his faults, at least he didn't keep her waiting for six weeks between her summoning him and his arrival. He sent word that he would call on her at two o'clock, and he was there promptly, in a frock coat and top hat which he swept off his head as he strode briskly into the study.

Cinderella was, she would confess to herself, a little nervous that he was going to be smug about this, or in some way lord over the fact that she had turned out to be unable to manage without him. He had a grave expression, but that might be hiding all manner of superiority behind it.

However, as he reached her desk he did not sit down. Rather he got down on one knee, not as a swain but as a subject, bowing his head to her, and overall hunching down so low that Cinderella had to lean forward to see him over the desk.

"Your highness, I offer you my most humble and sincere apologies."

Cinderella coughed. "Excuse me?"

"I…Princess Cinderella, I am truly sorry for all of the trouble to which I have put you this last month and more. I had no idea…if I had known…I have been an ass, and an ass who can only beg for your forgiveness."

Cinderella's eyebrows rose. Of all the things that she might possibly have expected, this was certainly not one of them.

"I…I'm sure that you did what you thought was right."

Sieur Robert laughed derisively, although Cinderella wasn't sure whether his derision was directed at her or at himself. "If I had done what I thought was right, highness, I would have taken your bill and pushed it through the assembly by any means, instead of shirking my duty and leaving you at…I confess I didn't realise that Lord Roux would behave in such a way but…the fault is mine, for abandoning you when you needed me.

"Your proposal is the right one. I knew that and, knowing that, I should have had the courage to do the right thing, as you did."

"Your party-"

"I entered politics to serve the throne, not the party," Sieur Robert declared. "It appears that somewhere along the way I forgot that. Now it is too late for anything but regrets."

"Not quite, Sieur Robert," Cinderella murmured. "If you will become Premier again, and consent to support the bill that I have written…"

Sieur Robert looked up at her. "You…your highness would have me back."

"I think the needs of the country and the people would be better served by an able minister than by an election at this stage, don't you?" Cinderella asked. "But if you are not willing to present my bill then-"

"I am," he said at once. "It will be my first order of business, I guarantee it." Sieur Robert rose to his feet, though he bowed to her once more as soon as he had done so. "Your highness, I will be your minister for so long as you should have need of me."

A sigh of relief escaped from Cinderella's lips. "I…I'm very grateful, of course I am, but…what caused you to change your mind?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Your treaty with the Normans," he admitted. "It was boldly done, your highness, I will confess. The sort of bold stroke that…I realised that I would not have dared to suggest such a course, or to defend it to my backbenchers. That is when I realised that I had become staid, timid, more of a party man than a statesman, too concerned with majorities than with the good of the country. You…you have shamed me to my duty, highness, and I thank you for that. Just as I commend you for governing the country single-handedly these last weeks."

Cinderella coughed. "Thank you, sir, I've done my best."

"You have done well," he said. "Although it seems…if you will let me take some of the weight from off your shoulders."

"I would appreciate that, very much," Cinderella murmured. "How long will it take you to form a government?"

"I will have the first names to you by this evening; they will be much the same as before, save for a few die-hards who will not go along with your plans."

"But it can be done?"

"The opposition were unable to form a government, but there will be enough of them in favour to carry this through, I think," Sieur Robert said. "I will get started right away."

"Thank you, Sieur Robert," Cinderella said. She snorted. "I…it's funny, well, not really but…after doing things…I suppose that I'm back to waiting now, aren't I? Waiting for Eugene, and now waiting for you."

"Perhaps, for a little while, your highness," he said. "But be under no illusions or doubts that this is your achievement, and yours alone. No one else can claim any credit for it, least of all me. If…when your bill becomes law, it will be solely your own triumph. And the whole kingdom will recognise that as well as I do."

That may be, but it still added up to more waiting for Cinderella. It was strange, the fact that she had so much to do and yet at the same time she seemed to spend so much of her time waiting. Waiting for news from Eugene, waiting for news of Eugene, waiting for the war to end; waiting for Lucien's awful stories to go away, waiting for her illness to go away and all the while wondering inside if either or both of them would linger to surround her forever; and now waiting for her free trade bill to progress through the assembly.

She was too ill to go and see it progress herself. Now that the wheels had been set in motion, Cinderella had finally taken the advice of her doctors and retired to her bed, where she sat up and read through the ministerial boxes or, when she was feeling too ill and her vision blurred when she tried to read, she asked Marinette to be a dear and read them to her while Cinderella tried to take it all in. She waited, trapped by her weakness in her own room, while her new premier – who was of course also the old premier – did battle in the legislature on her behalf.

Although she could not go to the assembly and sit in the gallery to hear the debates raging on, Cinderella was not uninformed of what was going on in the Assembly. If she had been as devoid of information as she had been during the six weeks of Lord Roux's prevarications she would have gone mad, but thankfully she was far from blind to the progress of events that she had set in motion. The course of the debates was reported in all the newspapers, as were the popular protests taking place in the city to concentrate the minds of the representatives – Cinderella was glad to see that they were peaceful protests, although she had written a small piece for the Gazette urging that they should remain so – and Cinderella also sent her ladies-in-waiting down to the chamber to observe on her behalf, and tell her if anything interesting had occurred.

Angelique never went on her behalf, Cinderella didn't think that she would have enjoyed that very much, so the duty was split between Serena, Grace and Marinette. As whichever of the three went that day was gone for several hours, sometimes most of a whole day, that meant that the three who were left behind had to take up more duties on Cinderella's behalf. It was probably wrong of her to force them to do so much, and she certainly should have given some though to replacing the empty spaces in her household - Augustina had not been gone long, admittedly, but Theodora had been expelled months ago and Cinderella had done nothing about filling the gap that her departure had caused – but while she was too sick and too weak to do things then she was forced to reply upon the goodwill of her friends to do all the things that she could not: caring for the King, looking in on Philippe, attending the Assembly, even reading her papers sometimes.

Serena had suggested that she might go further than that. "You must rest," she had told Cinderella. "You must really and truly rest, and you cannot get the rest and recuperation you need while you insist on working even from your sickbed."

Cinderella smiled. "I'm ill, yes, but I'm not dying, Serena. I'm not made of glass either, that was my slipper. I can read and think and it won't kill me."

"It isn't making you any better," Serena said.

"When the law is passed then I'll retire the Summer Palace, as I told Angelique I would," Cinderella said. "The fresh air-"

"Won't do you any good if you shut yourself up reading out of these boxes all day," Serena pointed out.

Cinderella set down the document she was currently reading onto the pink blanket that covered her legs. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps this isn't helping, but what can I do? I'm the Princess Regent, and until His Majesty recovers or Eugene returns there is no one else who can do this."

Serena's eyes narrowed. "What if that didn't need to be the case?"

Cinderella frowned. "How…how can it not be the case, I-?"

"Obviously, you are the only woman in the kingdom at present who can make the important decisions, but what if you gave someone the authority to make…all the less important decisions for you?" Serena suggested. "You could, you know. All that you'd have to do is sign a piece of paper giving me – or whoever else you decided to repose your trust in – the authority to speak with your voice on certain small matters. Matters of the ordering of your household, the management of the palace, the right to decide what was and was not worth bothering you about in your delicate condition. A sort of gatekeeper, and a little bit of a steward as well."

"I…I'll consider it," Cinderella said. It certainly sounded like a nice idea, but at the same time it sounded like a terrible abrogation of her duty as well. This charge had been given to her while Eugene was away, how could she palm off whole swathes of it onto someone else. Wasn't it her responsibility to see it through, no matter what?

But, as she coughed, she had to admit it sounded very nice to reduce her workload considerably.

She considered it, but did not more than that as she read and heard reports of the battle for free trade raging in the assembly, how she was attacked by some and defended by others, how Monsieur Mordred protested loudly against her and her law, and how Sieur Robert defended her alongside many of those she had met in the Anti-Corn Law League.

And Cinderella heard the cheering of the crowd long before Marinette returned and told her that the bill had passed the Assembly and waited only for her ascent.

And, on the day that the document came before her for that same royal assent to become a law in truth, and strike down for the future all the harmful tariffs that raised the price of food beyond the reach of ordinary and hard-working men and women, Cinderella ready the complementary words that Sieur Robert had said of her as the passage through the Assembly was concluded:

In reference to our proposing these measures, I have no wish to rob any person of the credit which is justly due to him for them. But I may say that neither the gentlemen sitting on the benches opposite, nor myself, nor the gentlemen sitting round me—I say that neither of us are the parties who are strictly entitled to the merit. There has been a combination of parties, and that combination of parties together with the influence of the Government, has led to the ultimate success of the measures. But, Sir, there is a name which ought to be associated with the success of these measures: it is not the name of the noble Lord opposite, neither is it my name. Sir, the name which ought to be, and which will be associated with the success of these measures is the name of a lady who, acting, I believe, from motives of pure and unselfish compassion, adulterated only by the reason to perceive the wisdom of her cause, has pursued without fail this object in the face of all obstacle and objection, in the face moreover of all the slanders and obloquies that have been most unjustly poured upon her name—the name which ought to be and will be associated with the success of these measures is the name of Her Royal Highness Cinderella, Princess of Rennes. Without scruple, Sir, I attribute the success of these measures to her.

"You did it," Angelique said, as Cinderella signed the act into law. "You…you really did it."

Cinderella smiled. "You almost sound surprised."

"I…" Angelique looked away. "I wasn't sure you'd do it. When I first heard…I thought you just wanted to be admired for your virtues. I didn't think that you'd ever make real sacrifices to help others." She scowled. "I was kind of an idiot, as you may have worked out."

Cinderella chuckled, before she started to cough. "Nobody thinks your stupid, Angelique."

"I didn't say stupid, I said I was an idiot, which I was," Angelique replied. "Just because I'd never met anyone so…so good as you didn't mean that that kind of good didn't exist. I was a fool to doubt you. You've…you've proven right all of the faith that Jean had in you. That everybody had in you. You're the real thing."

"Am I? That's nice to hear, so long as it's a nice thing."

Angelique snorted. "Good point. You are…you're…you're excellent, that's what you are. You said you'd help, and you did. Nobody has the right to ask for anything more than that." She smiled. "God bless you, your royal highness."

Cinderella leaned back upon her pillow, a smile playing across her lips as her eyes closed.

It's done. I did it. I finally kept my promise from so long ago.

Now I can rest.

As she felt her mind drift away from her, Cinderella's soul was at peace, for she finally felt worthy of the crown that marriage had placed upon her head.