Cinderella

Terrible things had happened while Aurore was away.

Because his new wife and her daughters had spent so much money on clothes and shoes and make-up and hairdressers and so on, the count had been in need of more money and had set out to do some trading overseas. The last letter he had sent to his wife spoke of success in his enterprise and hope of soon seeing her and his dear daughters again but the count had not returned. Nobody knew what had happened but it was supposed that a storm had sunk his ship and that everybody on board was missing, presumed dead. This meant that according to the law of the country the count's estate was tied up for ten years or his body being found, whichever came first. Until then his widow would receive a minimum pension.

Before his departure he had given his wife a small fortune but the countess and her two daughters had already spent so much, that she had decided to economise. She had done this by getting rid of most of the servants. Then she had called Cindy to her room and had said to her, "I'm sorry to say that your father is dead. This means that you are now a penniless orphan and you need to work for a living. My daughters and I have agreed that you can stay here and work for us. We will give you something to wear and you can sleep in the kitchen. You will clean the house, make sure the fires are on in the morning, bring us breakfast in bed, prepare the food for lunch and dinner, do the washing and the ironing, keep our clothes in order, help me and my daughters to get dressed and coifed and do anything else any of us tell you to do. Is this understood?"
"No, I don't understand. I live here; I am not a servant. This is my father's house."
"Didn't you hear me? You're an orphan. You're penniless. This is now my house. You should be pleased that I let you stay here. I'm your legal guardian and can send you away when and where I will; to work in a factory, to stay in an orphanage or a school for incorrigible girls. I can even tell you to go and sleep in the street. Do you understand?"
"Yes," whispered Cindy.
"Good, now do what I tell you and go to the kitchen, NOW!"
Poor Cindy. She had gone to the kitchen; the cook had been the only person still there. She had put her arms around the girl and had told her that her father might not be dead.
"Stay here, miss. If your father is still alive he will come here. If you're sent away he might never find you. You'll have to be strong. Don't let madam upstairs worry you too much. It will be alright in the end."
"Please, don't go. There will be nobody here except them. Please, stay," Cindy had asked the cook.
And the cook had said, "I would stay but the countess won't give a reference to anybody who is still here after midday. I cannot afford not to have a good reference." Then she had gone.
The worst part had been when the countess and her daughters had come in the kitchen. They had forced Cindy to get undressed and had given her some rags to wear. Her nice clothes, even though they didn't fit the stepsisters and would need an incredible amount of alterations, had been divided between Bernardine and Clotilde as were the rest of her possessions.

Since that day Cindy had worked like a slave for her stepmother and stepsisters. She wore a torn dress with a piece of rope for a belt and a frayed cloth with which she had to cover her hair. The one pair of shoes she had, she kept for winter. Her bed was a sack of straw in the kitchen. She never had a minute to herself. The whole day long, from morning till evening the three women called her, "Cindy, come here and help me", "Cindy, do this", "Cindy, do that" and because she often looked dirty from all the work, they had started to call her Cinders, or Cinderella if they were particularly nice. They thought this a fantastic joke.

And then Aurore returned.
Her stepmother and stepsisters greeted her warmly and then Countess du Bellefleur made it clear that there was no money.
"Oh, my darling stepdaughter, I'm so glad you are back. Bernardine and Clotilde have missed you so dreadfully. We'll have to tighten our belts a bit more now that you are here, but we'd suffer happily for the pleasure of having you near. It has been so difficult since the count's death. And nobody wants to give me the money because his body has not been found. What am I to do? How am I to raise my children? How are they ever to find a decent husband if they cannot go to the right parties? I cannot let them go in the rags they are wearing."
The crocodile tears were streaming down her cheeks. Aurore had become wiser and recognised the feigned affection of her stepmother and her daughters. She decided they were not going to pluck her like a fatted goose.

Just as Aurore was about to ask why Cindy wasn't there, a girl in rags came into the room carrying a heavy tray. At first Aurore didn't recognise her, and then, "Cindy! Is that you?"
"Cindy? Ha! Cinders more likely," said Bernardine.
"She is the worst servant imaginable," said Clotilde.
The cups on the tray rattled a bit when Cindy put it down.
"Watch what you're doing," shouted the countess. " Go back to the kitchen before you break something, you clumsy little fool."
Cindy quickly ran out of the room, before the countess could hit her.
"What happened to Cindy? Why is she dressed that way? Why is she serving us? Where are the servants?"
"Don't interfere with how I run this household. I had to let the servants go because I could no longer afford them. After her father's death Cinders had the choice to stay here or go away to earn a living. She decided to stay and is repaying my kindness by replacing the servants. After all, she is not my child; nobody can force me to keep her. If you don't like this you can go as well."
Suddenly the countess realised that she might loose any chance of getting some of Aurore's money this way. She was relieved when Aurore said she would rather stay.

Tea was served and the countess and her daughters started chatting away about the new shops in town and the newest fashion and so on. Aurore meanwhile was thinking what she could do to make Cindy's life easier. She realised why her friend had suddenly stopped writing to her. She looked at her stepmother and stepsisters sitting there in all their finery. They could easily have shared with Cindy. Then it suddenly dawned on her why Cindy had been treated so shabbily. The girls were now old enough to think about getting married. Bernardine was 20, Aurore was 19 and Clotilde and Cindy were both 18. Of course the countess could not allow any competition for her daughters and Cindy had always been the prettiest of all. The disappearance of the count had given his wife an unexpected opportunity to lose the biggest danger to her daughter's chance of catching the most eligible bachelors themselves. Aurore with her dark hair was not considered a rival at all. After all … gentlemen do prefer blondes.

It wasn't until the next day that Aurore could talk to Cindy. While her stepfamily was away to look at the latest dresses that had just arrived in town she went to the kitchen. There she found Cindy hard at work doing the washing up.
" Cindy, I want to talk to you. Could you please, stop for a moment?"
"I can't stop, Miss Aurore. But what can I do for you, miss."
"Don't call me miss. We were friends, Cindy. What has happened to our friendship."
Cindy stopped and dried her hands. She looked at Aurore.
"Would you still be friends with me? Despite what the countess says?"
"Yes, of course," said Aurore. "You're my friend, my sister. Much more than Bernardine or Clotilde ever were. I've come back for you. You're all the family I've got left."
A moment later the girls embraced.
"Oh, Aurore, it's been so terrible," sobbed Cindy and she told her friend everything that had happened since she had gone away.
Then Aurore thought about what she could do to help Cindy.
"I wish I could give you your rightful place back, your clothes and your room, but I'm afraid that the countess won't agree to that. If we could leave together I would, but our stepmother is your guardian and would never allow you to go away with me. She doesn't want to lose a cheap servant."
"She cannot know that you help me."
"That's for sure. … Listen, this is what I thought we could do. I shall tell her that I will pay all the household expenses – I'm sure she'll accept that. Then we'll arrange for the washing and the ironing to be done for us. We'll get cleaners to do the house and a gardener for the garden; they can come when the countess and her daughters are out for their beauty treatments. And then we'll look for somebody to do the sewing and mending. With the rest of your tasks I'll help you whenever I can – when they're not at home breathing down my neck. I'll also make sure you get some decent clothes to wear and a better place to sleep than the kitchen floor. How does that sound?"
Cindy was full of joy at the thought that she would not have to slave night and day anymore.

That evening Aurore suggested to her stepmother that she would pay for the running of the household out of her own pocket.
"If I'm allowed to run the household by myself, I may save some extra money that you can use for outfits for Bernardine, Clotilde and yourself. And you'd be able to use all the money you get each month as well. It's the least I can do after all you've done for me."
Of course Countess du Bellefleur immediately agreed with everything when she thought about the extra money she could spend on herself and her daughters.
"I'm glad you realise what I've done for you," she said, "and I'm glad you know how to be grateful."