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As Kit took my hand, and guided me through the First Dance, I could not help but think back to how this was possible, even as I followed his steps perfectly.
From the radio announcement of the Royal Ball as I served the elevenses, almost dropping the tray before I caught myself. The trip to the seamstress to secure fine gowns for my Stepfamily, and making one of my own from my mother’s old dress with the aid of a sewing machine I managed to sneak into my attic room. Having it torn to halt me as they were chauffeured with a hired car (the old one, made by my father’s old company before his death, rusting away in the woodlands behind the house), almost giving up on the Promise I had made to my other as she lay on her Deathbed, having been permitted to remain at home to die rather than at a hospital. And then learning of my Fairy Godmother who came to my aid.
Through her power, the old car was restored to its former glory, Galahad the old horse I was permitted to keep on the condition of my being solely responsible for his care, becoming the driver in a uniform of dappled grey. The ruined dress now a rich gown of silky blue complete with slippers of glass. And a warning that I would only have until midnight before the magic wore off, more than enough time as the engine purred us towards the Palace.
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Following the first dance, and his peeling us away from the crowd, I stood alongside Kit, as he spoke of the portraits of his family, the Royal Family. On in particular standing out as it was the most recent one of Kit himself. Horseback, Riding Gear. Long-Barrel Repeating-Rifle in hand.
“I can’t say that I enjoy these portraits.” Kit explained. “But they do seem to capture the life and vitality better than a photograph can.”
We continued to talk about matters, eventually heading outside, rows of halogen lights illuminating the path that took us to a special place, one of his most fiercely guarded secrets. An immaculately tended garden hidden away from the rest of the World.
“This used to be my mother’s.” He admitted. “She would be here any chance she had, her and my father when he wasn’t beholden to his duties. When she…I took it upon myself to keep this, nurture it myself. When I’m here, I can see her smiling face again, her hands trimming the plants, nourishing the flowers.”
“It’s so, beautiful.” I gasped softly for even in the dim light, she could see clearly how much care he applied to this place. In a way, it seemed that I could look into his very soul.
Given the swing seat by Kit, my heart fluttered as he gently pushed me, the long swings almost in tune with my own pulse. At least until one of the slippers slid free and flew off, a glint from it catching Kit’s eye. When he picked it up…
“Glass?” Bemused as to how they could not only fit properly without breaking, but clearly in comfort.
“Why not?” I found myself asking back, in jest as he slid it back onto my foot.
“So? Will you tell me, who you really are?” He asked me gently, but it still sent a pang of fear into me.
“I, I think that, if I did, it would, change everything.” I stuttered out, the confusion on Kit‘s face clear as day.
“I’m afraid, I don’t understand. Could you at least tell me your name?”
That, that I felt was safe enough. There were plenty of people in the world who went by the name of Ella. “My name…” I stopped as I saw the Palace Clock, dangerously close to midnight. “…I must leave.”
‘How could I have been so stupid!?’ I mentally chastised myself. Had I not been warned that at midnight, the Magic would expire, returning all to how it had once been? Racing through the palace as fast as my glass slippers would permit, almost scalding myself on the oil heaters that lined the hallways as I paused only long enough to have a quick kind word with his father before I had to make for the front steps.
“Galahad! Galahad!” I cried out, seeing him peel himself away from a small group and racing towards the waiting car as I tore down the steps, stumbling as something came loose.
Regaining my footing, I was able to see the fallen slipper, and Kit hurrying to catch up. I didn’t have the time to return to pick it up, pulling free the other slipper to aid reaching the opened door as Galahad fired up the engine, roaring as he floored the Gas, tyres squealing in protest at their treatment while the car slid on the gravel to pass through the gates the moment the clock’s hands moved to midnight.
Slowly regaining my breath after the mad rush (the corseted dress not helping), I turned to look behind to see that they had only just started to give chase. If Galahad could keep the pace up though, they might not be able to catch up.
Which was probably just as well as when I turned back around, I could see clearly that the Magic was beginning to wear off, Galahad’s face pushing out and a clop heard when he lost his footing on the Gas Pedal.
“Can we make it?” I asked aloud.