Eve tried to focus her thoughts. She was tired, hot and on the verge of throwing one or both of her daughters out of the carriage. There was an uneasy peace at the moment – Anastasia and Drizella sulking at each other. Eve had spent the last hour reasoning with them, pleading with them and finally shouting at them to end their endless arguing. She saw Drizella shift her sitting position so that her back was ramrod straight against the carriage seat. Her foot 'accidentally' kicked Anastasia. Rather than snapping at Drizella, Anastasia settled herself on the edge of her seat, swinging her legs 'innocently' over the edge of the seat. Any second now, thought Eve.
"Ow!" shouted Drizella.
"You started it!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Mother!"
"Mother!"
"Driver – stop the carriage!" Eve shouted out of the window. The carriage pulled over and Eve jumped out, locking her squabbling offspring inside. She mounted next to the driver, Françoise shifting up to make room for her. Eve gave a grateful smile and carried on staring out at the passing countryside as Françoise cracked his whip and the carriage jerked into life. She tried not to think about what she was doing. She had packed up the girls and all their belongings of worth into the carriage, setting out on a two day journey to Burgundy to the home of a man she barely knew. She wondered if she was still sane – a few weeks ago she would have been appalled if someone had suggested she would be setting off to the home of a man on a whim. A darker part of her that she fought hard to control suggested she was hoping he would kiss her again during this trip, perhaps he would try something more. Her breeding and upbringing refusing this thought to go any further, she denied her darker side the luxury of dwelling on this fantasy. It was quite usual, she reminded herself, for noble families to visit one another without anything – like that – occurring. What would mother think, Eve thought, fanning herself. Inside the carriage, the war seemed to be drawing to a close, both girls realising that the attention they craved was unlikely to materialise if Eve could not actually see them fighting. Eve could hear frantic whispering – they were plotting something. She knew she would find out what it was eventually, so pushed the girls out of her mind.
The evening drew on, dusk giving the countryside a red glow. Eve could see a large, rambling farmhouse in the distance, the long drive to it their current destination. She knew that Raoul's family had owned land – this had to be the main estate house, the central meeting point for the farmers who would subsidise the lord's land. She looked up at the three storey building as they drew closer, admiring the red-brick structure as it loomed over her. A maid ran out as the carriage pulled up, curtseying to Eve and offering to help her down. Eve pointed to the carriage.
"My daughters and my cat are inside. I would like the cat taken to my room, but the girls are to be put to bed immediately without supper as they have been terribly behaved on the way here. Lucifer may have some warm milk."
"Yes ma'am," replied the maid, carrying out her orders. Eve headed towards the farmhouse, unsure of whether to let herself in. She was clearly expected, but where was Raoul?
On cue, a black horse thundered into the courtyard and drew up in front of Eve. Raoul performed an impressive leap from the horse's back, landing perfectly with sword drawn in a salute to Eve. She was impressed, but did not convey this to Raoul, raising an eyebrow.
"Dramatic, as always," she stated. Raoul threw his sword to the ground and crossed his arms huffily. Eve mimicked him.
"You're late," he said.
"If I'm late, blame your driver," replied Eve. She could hear the girls protesting as they were pulled into the house, sulking as always when told there would be no supper. Raoul looked as though he may be considering arguing, but opened his arms and held Eve's shoulders gently.
"I've missed you," he said quietly, leaning forward to kiss her. Eve backed away.
"Not in front of the servants," she whispered, shrugging off Raoul. He sighed impatiently and offered her his arm. Eve took it and allowed him to escort her into the farmhouse.
Raoul ushered Eve into the parlour, a musty red room which smelled of hops and was decorated heavily in dark furniture. He locked the parlour door behind him and took Eve in his arms.
"I have to object," she said quietly.
"There are no servants, I promise you," Raoul replied, backing off and opening the cupboards to prove he had no-one hidden there. He danced back to Eve and circled her waist with his arms. "Where were we?"
"I think I may have given you the wrong idea about me by coming here."
"You're not one of these terribly prudish, straight-laced town ladies who is going to claim our last passionate encounter was the result of too much sun, are you?"
"I was going to blame the wine, actually."
"Not even one kiss?" Raoul whined plaintively, looking hurt.
"Not even one," replied Eve. She knew that one kiss in a locked room with Raoul would be one kiss too many right now. She could picture Raoul kissing her and pulling her down onto the chaise, then her head started swimming and she shook herself to clear it. Raoul sighed, then unlocked the door.
"Come on then – I should show you to your room. You have had a long journey."
Eve examined the farmhouse carefully as she passed through it with Raoul. Antlers from hunted stags decorated the dark, wooden walls and the carpeted stairs wound upwards to the bedrooms. She knew the servants were watching her – she assumed she was one of the few women he had invited here. A large painting adorned the wall above the hallway. A blonde-haired woman was seated, holding a smiling baby girl on her lap. Behind the woman was a brown-haired, moustached man – Raoul, as he had been when Cinderella was a baby. Feeling a little intimidated by the face of Raoul's former wife, Eve looked away quickly and smiled as Raoul opened the bedroom door for her.
"My thanks, Lord Tremaine."
"My pleasure, Madam Labeau. Might I come in for a moment?" without waiting for an answer, Raoul entered the room. Eve hesitated before following him. Inside, Raoul was pulling the curtains open, revealing the sunset outside. "I thought you might appreciate the view," he said simply. Eve walked up to him and placed her hand gently on his arm.
"Thank-you."
"You really are quite beautiful, you know," said Raoul, tracing the curves of Eve's hair with his finger where the sunlight highlighted it. "Do one thing for me?"
"What?"
"Take your hair down. Right now – I want to see how long it is."
"I don't think I should," started Eve. She looked up at Raoul, and changed her mind. Sitting at the dressing table, Eve pulled her hair loose and shook it free of her usual tight style, allowing the brown locks to cascade down her back. She walked back to the window.
Raoul walked behind Eve and ran his hands down the length of her hair, stopping at her waist. She felt him stroke her hair twice more before he leaned forward and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest. Eve felt him pulled tight against her back, his heart pounding against her shoulder-blade. Raoul nuzzled into her neck, taking a length of hair in his hand before kissing the hair gently. He pulled a knife from a pocket.
"May I?" he asked Eve. Understanding, she nodded, an unusual thrill running through her as he played the knife next to her neck, cutting a small lock of hair as a keepsake. He released her instantly and left the room without a word, closing the door behind him. Eve waited as if expecting something more, then slipped out of her dress and prepared for bed.
The next day, Raoul insisted Eve join him horse-riding while the girls were entertained by Justine, Cinderella's governess. They rode to a field of wheat, laying down under a tree to shelter from the midday sun. Eve had insisted they lie down on opposite sides of the tree, rather than side to side.
"Why won't you kiss me?" asked Raoul.
"Because I don't know you. And as we both seem to want to make this a permanent relationship, it would not be prudent to move too quickly." She realised she had just admitted she wanted Raoul in her life for at least the near future, and hoped he would pick up on the hint.
"How much more would you like to know?"
"Has there been anyone else since your wife?"
"Yes. One woman – Marguerite – thought she would be the one to free me from my misery. She kept calling around, inviting me to parties with her. No, I never kissed her, so you can stop worrying on that account."
"I wasn't worried," said Eve to the open expanse of air in front of her. She was finding the conversation a little odd.
"And you? Have you fallen for anyone else?" said the disembodied voice of Raoul.
"No."
"Will you marry me?" Eve's heart skipped a beat as she thought about the question. Pierre had courted her for six months before asking for her hand – and that was after her father had already given him permission a month into their relationship. On the other hand, if she waited six months for Raoul to ask her, surely that was six months wasted when she was already sure of her answer?
"Where would we live?"
"In the town – I know you thrive there."
"And the girls?"
"Seem to get on well enough. If not, it's a big enough house and Drizella's nearly nine isn't she?"
"Nine and a half, nearly ten."
"There you are – she'll be married and out of the house in ten years. Another two and Anastasia and Cinderella should be married off and it won't matter if they fight."
"Ten years..." muttered Eve, thinking about how the two-day carriage journey had tried her patience. Could she survive ten years in a house with not two but three squabbling girls?
"Do you have an answer for me?"
"Yes, of course I will. When?" Raoul sprung from around the tree and kneeled next to her.
"As soon as possible. I have a horrible feeling you won't let me kiss you until our wedding night, and I'm not prepared to wait too long."
"Shouldn't we be getting back?"
That evening, Eve watched as Raoul taught Anastasia and Drizella one of his favourite songs. She listened as he sang it through with Cinderella first, hearing the girl's crystal clear notes for the first time and envying her perfect soprano voice and her closeness to Raoul, who was playing the harpsichord. Eve had always managed a rough alto, with Drizella being almost tone deaf. Anastasia had never really taken to singing, but had played the flute well enough. Pierre had insisted Eve buy a present for each of the girls when he died. Drizella had received a book and Anastasia a flute – which she practised every day. She heard Drizella's strained attempts to convince a nightingale to sing drowning out the more tuneful Cinderella. Anastasia joined in on her flute when she felt confident enough, Raoul nodding approval. Eve watched as Raoul tried to correct Drizella, suggesting improvements that would make her voice blend more pleasantly with Cinderella's. Lulled by the music, Eve fell asleep in front of the fire, comforted by the image of the three girls clustered around the harpsichord with their father figure.
When she awoke, the fire had burned down and the room was silent and dark. She raised herself on her elbows and realised someone had tucked a blanket over her while she slept. As she sat up, she saw Raoul in a chair at the head of the chaise she had been curled up on. He was watching her still, his dark eyes twinkling in the diminished firelight.
"Welcome back," he said, offering her a drink. She took it automatically and took a long draught. As she swallowed, she realised it was cognac. It took all her self control not to spit it back over Raoul. She drew in a pained breath, glaring at Raoul. "Not a cognac drinker then?"
"Not really no," she said, her tongue numb from the vile drink, the taste of bile at the back of her throat unbearable. And people enjoy drinking this?
"Ready to go to bed?"
"Yes."
"Do you mind if I escort you?" Eve took Raoul's arm and he helped her stand, guiding her from the music room and up the stairs. As they got to Eve's room, she stopped him with a hand in the centre of his chest.
"I want to make a few things clear," she said.
"Yes?"
"I want to get married in the town, not here."
"Alright."
"My daughters are to receive the same legal rights as Cinderella."
"Yes, of course."
"You will always keep your word."
"Yes."
"And you will never leave me."
"I promise never to leave you – even if it means living to a thousand just to out-live you and dying seconds after you."
"Why seconds?"
"Do you think I could live without you?"
"How sweet," Eve leaned into Raoul, kissing him lightly on the lips. He leaned in and kissed her back, both running their hands up the other's back. She thought that maybe for tonight, she could stop being quite such a prude and pulled him towards her and the door of her room. Raoul deepened the kiss and pushed her against the door. They both struggled to find the door handle, both giggling quietly like fools when forced to separate to let themselves in. Eve opened the bedroom door and Raoul caught her in another kiss, half way into the room.
"Father?" came a voice from down the hall. Eve and Raoul separated slowly.
"Cinderella – what is it darling?"
"I can't sleep – I was frightened."
"I'll come and tuck you in," he said, breaking away from Eve and turning towards Cinderella. "Hold that thought – I'll be back later," he whispered to Eve. He disappeared down the hall with his daughter. Eve went into her room and changed, laying awake on the bed. She was not surprised when Raoul did not reappear.