xiv.

Mid March, 1789

The French air was like ice hitting bare skin, sharp and precise. The cold felt as though it would cut severely, were a person to venture in it for a prolonged while.

Often Isadora Tremaine had heard people say in the market that the worst of the cold was over with January, but in her own opinion, the worst of the cold winter had only just begun.

Winters in the 18th century town of Toulouse, France-a place nestled right in the cusp of change, both resisting and embracing it, were cold, snowy and occasionally wet. Rain, though, was much commoner here than snow, and hence winters were spent with the dread of venturing outside only to get wet and drown in a bout of a disease that would, with each cough and sneeze, squeeze your life away.

Isadora opened the curtains of the west drawing room on this particular crisp, wet, March morning. It was not nearly eight am yet and already the chateau grounds glistened with cold wetness, icy dew gathered on each plant in the garden, weighing everything down as frost joined in.

The sky was gloomy, as it had just rained, and the clouds were still aggravated-stubborn, with snow scattered on the grounds like cottage cheese.

The date on the calendar read 12th of March, and on this lazy slow morning, only Isadora and her son Archie were up and alive, both of them basking in the silence of having the chateau to themselves-if only quietly and briefly.

The four year old child was nestled on the green sofa in this west drawing room, his focus fixed on the scene he was arranging for his toys, as he muttered under his breath a serious business conversation where he was both the wooden cowboy pledging himself to catching a thief, and the wooden toad sheriff who was cross examining the cowboy's loyalty before hiring him.

Isa had already made breakfast for herself and Archie, and the two had eaten in much peace while Lady Tremaine and Lucinda still slept.

It had been a whole month and a week since Cinderella's departure to the palace, and a month since the royal wedding.

The event had occurred, with much celebration throughout the kingdom, in early February.

True to her intention, Isadora hadn't attended. And when King Reginald and Prince Charming sent formal invitations, inviting the Tremaines as close royal guests considering their familial relationship with the princess-to-be, Lady Tremaine had cursed and screamed at Isadora, demanding that she come. But the latter had held her ground, and hadn't accompanied them.

Though the cursive of Isadora's name in gleaming gold font on the invitation card had long burned into her mind, daunting and taunting her.

Isa knew what had been at stake. All her wishes and hopes of finding a wealthy match for herself, for Archie's sake. All those hopes and wishes she had risked by not going-by not taking advantage of the royal reception. She could've attracted someone-met someone deep into the blues of watching a wedding and hence susceptible to the idea of finally accepting such a fate for themselves too. She could've ensnared such a man easily.

But the thought hadn't sat right with her. Cinderella was the one getting married, it was degrading to Isa's personal self to attend a wedding for the mere purpose of finding someone for her own means. It would make her feel nauseous. She knew that whichever man she found under such a circumstance, would never be worth it, regardless of the money he had. Men like that were only emotional for the brief ceremony of that particular wedding, but when they came back to their own unclouded senses, Isa would be long trapped with no way out.

Isadora Tremaine didn't only need wealth from the man she intended to marry, she needed security as well. Safety-that wealthy but annoyed men could never provide.

And then there had been the issue of King Alexander Casimir.

Isadora didn't want to run into him. She didn't want to see him, or even speak to him again. Her heart-much to her chagrin-had rebelled at that decision the girl had made. But how could Isadora convince her heart that it was necessary?

How could her heart, always so composed and still, suddenly go off it's hinges by the mere presence of the foreign king? His every word and every glance replayed in her mind without fail every time she gave her mind leisure to, and the way he had picked her up and held her close...

His scent was etched into the crevices of her memory and no amount of cleansing or reprimanding herself would erase that notion of familiarity. It was fruitless, Isadora knew that, dwelling on such things was fruitless. But who could convince her stubborn heart so?

For once in her life, Isa was grateful that she had had control over her heart for all her life, and could control it now too. For there were many people in the world who were slaves to their own heart, desperately wishing it was the other way around for them. Isadora could silence her heart, choose to ignore it by turning a deaf ear to it. Many others in the world would exchange valuables to have just that ability.

The maid-a frail eighteen winters old village girl called Lucy-shuffled into the west drawing room, carrying a glass of milk for Archie that the boy had refused to drink for breakfast earlier.

She shot Isa a inquiring look, and Isadora in turn offered her a complying nod towards Archie. Encouraged, the girl ventured over to the child on the sofa with the glass of milk. The boy, having forgotten his earlier refusal and apparently feeling much more receptive, eagerly brought his face forwards to attach his lips to the rim of the cup as Lucy helped him drink.

After Cinderella's royal departure to become the princess of the kingdom of Valence, the chateau life-seemingly lubricated at the seams and hinges by the blonde girl and former dish maid's arduous labor-had fallen into disrepair much like the the chateau exterior itself.

Lady Tremaine's composure had dissolved into fits, with the woman shrieking and snapping at most everything. Her words had become an endless stream of curses that had solidified each passing day, finding their target onto the most susceptible of her daughters-Lucinda Tremaine.

Isadora's twenty year old sister had borne it all with equal misery of her own, and what had resulted had been nothing less than a back and forth of shrieking and crying echoing in the walls of the chateau.

It was during one of these times that Isadora had taken Archie out to the village marketplace, her bonnet elegantly fastened underneath her neck as she held onto the boy's hand as they strolled the streets, surveyed the colorful merchant stalls on display and walked past sweet smelling bakeries and perfumed boutiques. It was during one of these times that Isa had found Lucy begging in the street, a helpless girl who needed money to aid an ailing mother.

Isadora had hired her then, to help take care of her own and Archie's chores around the chateau only. Lucy had then eagerly agreed, and had come back with them.

And now a month later since having found her, Lucy had become more helpful than Isadora had even expected, and the sum Isa managed to separate for the girl's pay from her own savings, had become very worthwhile.

As per royal proclamation, work around the kingdom was suspended for the duration of Prince Charming's wedding festivities in early February, and in accordance with that, Lucy had gotten two days off after just being hired by Isadora. But instead of fixing herself up a gown to attend the wedding, the girl had resorted to stay at the chateau with Isadora-thus secretly igniting the latter's appreciation for the girl.

This development had in turn incited Lady Tremaine and Lucinda's anger and spite, for the two-being hefty spenders on frivolity and already having halved their savings in order to procure gowns and jewelry for Cinderella's wedding that they had attended-had no such sum to spare and thus had been forced to taking care of their chores-that Cinderella had earlier looked to-themselves.

In conclusion, the chateau had become much divided, with lives taking place inside that went neither parallel and neither intersected with each other.

"Thank you, Lucy," Isadora managed a smile at Lucy when the girl was done making Archie drink the milk.

Lucy smiled back, her freckled skin glinting as a piece of her brown hair-fallen from her low bun-framed her face.

"Are you going to the market today mistress?" The girl inquired then, holding the empty milk glass to her chest. "It rained all night, it would be much too wet outside. I can go instead, if you want me to, I have done all the chores so my absence won't be a bother to you."

"No, it's alright," Isa glanced out the window again at the dew covered chateau grounds. "I need some fresh air."

Fresh air wasn't all that Isadora was seeking on the day. Archie had quickly begun to grow out of some of his clothes, and an upgrade had become necessary. Isa needed to stock up on warm clothes his size, and she was also thinking of getting a warm cap or two for him for the days he insisted on being out in the garden looking after the plants they both had planted together.

"Then I shall come too, mistress," Lucy stood up, brushing the front of her brown apron with a single hand. "You must not have much to deal with in this kind of weather. I will carry some of the things."

Isadora nodded, as the girl, satisfied, turned on her heel to go change out of her apron and fetch Isa's velvet cape and a warm jacket for little Archie.

Then, before the insufferable lady of the house-Lady Tremaine-and her utterly slapdash and presently equally miserable daughter-Lucinda Tremaine-woke, Isadora Tremaine had exited the chateau with Archie and Lucy, the three set on their way to the marketplace on the particularly wet March morning.

Lucy took charge of the buggy that the chateau stored in the back, grabbing onto the reins of the singular horse and yanking them as the animal efficiently pulled it's charges enroute to the village.

Isadora feared that the air would be too cold for Archie, but as they whizzed by, the air seemed to melt and the wetness on the ground all around seemed to dry up. The sun peeked out from behind a flurry of thick clouds, the latter being forced to part ways as the former took it's rightful throne in the sky.

Then, with the sun's ascension, the cold started to settle a bit, and soon Isadora cold sense the subtle humidity aflush in the air as the village came into view, and with the view came bystanders and their daily rush-people running about on their way for one daily errand or the other.

Isadora saw the village baker rush about with a tray of steaming buns, holding onto his cap as he hissed under his breath as he had to stop to let their buggy pass him by. Then she saw him continue over her shoulder, crossing the street looking as though he was anxiously late for a delivery.

The village had settled into the throes of winter, yet Isadora could still spot some of the leftover decorations from the celebrations of the royal wedding. It had been such a while since the event, and it seemed nobody had had much inclination to make an effort to get rid of some of the color banners bearing the kingdom's colors twisted like vines on top of shop labels and street lamps, once winter had fully commenced. After all, once the celebrations for someone's new life were over, others had to return to their old ones-ones which had been left hanging to dry on clothing lines, pinched underneath wooden clips to be kept from being blown away by the strong winds that chanced upon them every once in a while.

Lucy pulled the buggy to a stop in front of the store Isadora usually shopped for Archie's clothes from, and as they all got out, the maid handed the reins of the buggy over to the man at the shop door.

"Good morning, Miss Tremaine, lovely winter's day is it not?" The jolly stout man tipped his hat, a delight warming the roundness of his face as he took the reins from Lucy and jumped into the buggy, taking charge.

Isadora managed a smile. "I do believe so, Mr Gaunt."

"How are you doing, Archie boy?"

"Doing good, sir!" The little boy uttered smartly, making Mr Gaunt chuckle as the stout man yanked on the reins and dragged the buggy away to park it safely.

In the village, as Isa had learned from her girlhood of gallivanting with Ruby Alderidge as the more popular of the duo had always introduced the latter around, there were some people worth exchanging pleasantries with. Some people, who held really no other thought in their hearts other then the joy and appreciation of being alive and sharing that with others with each breath that passed their lips.

Mr Gaunt was one of the few Isadora had come to like, alongside Mr Hutton-a tall and thin elderly man who ran the considerably reputed Hutton and Sons clothing store for the gentlemen and boys in the village.

The bell above the door jingled as Isadora entered holding onto Archie's hand with Lucy following close behind.

"Ah, Miss Tremaine," Mr Hutton called out from behind a counter as he stocked up some things in the upper shelves.

The atmosphere of his dark store was dim, with mahogany shelving and floors and the day light streaming in through the glass windows catching onto the translucent brown paper wrappings he used to pack up lavish suits and attires he kept aside on display.

The air inside smelled of fresh cologne and hard wood, a sophisticated result that seemed to dull every other scent the customers brought along into the store.

There were customers already browsing inside the store, even this early in the day, and most of them turned to cast looks at both Isadora and Archie, upon Mr Hutton's hearty acknowledgement.

At this point in time, Isadora's tale of adopting Archie had possibly become as old as time, yet there were still many in the village who had a lot still left to say. And Isadora Tremaine could comprehend just that by some of the looks she received at present-including that of a woman who seemed to be about Isadora's age as she pulled her own biological son close to herself and ushered into a further distance, as though Archie and Isa had brought with them a plague this cold March morning.

The conversation in the store was merry and hushed at the same time, the latter trait being brought on undoubtedly by Isa's presence. Perhaps she could count herself lucky that the looks she received were always varied, some tinged with admiration and envy while others were as blatant as prominent fury. But Isadora wasn't sure what luck was supposed to feel like, for her to ever acknowledge it.

"Charles is just about to return from an errand, he'll be around to take little Archie's measurements promptly," Mr Hutton called, patting a shelf after he had fully stuffed it with neatly folded gentlemen's suits in a gradient of navy color.

"In the meanwhile, please don't hesitate to peruse, we have just had new styles shipped."

"Thank you, Mr Hutton," Isadora managed with a smile, fixed as she was under the varying stares of most every customer in the store.

She guided Archie over to a display of wooden mannequins of the little boy's height and stature over to a side, and Archie regarded them in scrutiny, his wooden horsy clutched tight in his hand.

Lucy had found a relative of hers in the store, and while keeping a diligent eye on both Archie and Isa in case they needed her, she chattered merrily at a side, giving her mistress and the little boy space to peruse in the store instead of following at their tail at each turn. That was exactly how Isa preferred it and she was glad that the girl complied this way.

It was then when Isadora slowly touched the material of an olive green vest about Archie's size on the displayed mannequin with her gloved hand, that she heard someone call her name from behind. An entirely familiar voice that made something in her drop readily to her stomach.

"Isadora!"

She slowly turned to look, only to come face to face with the flushed, sweating face of Samuel Harrison.

The man had only just entered the store, because he was approaching her from the entrance and the bell atop hadn't yet entirely calmed from when he had pushed his way in.

In his hand, he held a briefcase-the same one he always seemed to carry, packed with his on-the-go medical supplies for when he made rounds around the village.

The man blinked nervously, breathing hard from his short run and haste to approach her, his emerald green eyes anxiously flitting over her face as they refused to stay still on account of his nerves.

"Miss Isadora Tremaine," The doctor corrected himself then, managing a dip of his head and a tip of his hat.

"It is a pleasure to chance upon you like this," He breathed then, smiling widely. "I saw Mr Gaunt park the buggy just now. I haven't seen you since..."

He searched for the words to say, when his eyes fell on little Archie at Isa's side.

"And how are you, little lad?"

Instead of a response, Archie smiled his big smile and nodded at the doctor, his attention falling back onto the wooden horsy in his grip.

"Well," The village doctor shrugged then, managing a laugh as he met Isadora's eyes. "He is quite the boy."

"He is," Isa let out, the compliment softening her demeanor towards the man, for his last encounter with her was still fresh and infuriating in her mind.

"Isadora..," Samuel Harrison's smile faded then as his eyes lost a bit of something inside her gaze.

"I wanted to apologize to you," He began, taking his top hat off and all but crushing it between his palms.

"I behaved wretchedly the night of the royal ball. I had no right to be frustrated, yet I assumed myself that I had. I cornered you like a common criminal, and not a day has gone by that I have not regretted and felt angry towards myself on account of it."

His words were clear, and uttered in haste and urgency. In the small compact store of Hutton and Sons, the village doctor's presence and the words he was saying to Isadora were undoubtedly in everyone's ears, as customers lingered close and watched from corners of their eyes, trying to get why the only doctor in town was apologizing to the notorious Miss Isadora Tremaine.

Toulouse was a relatively quiet town, and thus gossip was grabbed onto by it's neck and savored like it was the last of a season's fruit.

"I have been meaning to apologize sincerely for a while now, but I didn't see you in town, not even by the stores you frequent. I thought maybe you would attend the royal wedding and I'd see you there, but you didn't."

"I don't know if you visit the palace now that Cinderella is the princess, but I am not called there anymore. King Alexander Casimir has no need for my services for his mother anymore, and King Reginald's physician has returned from abroad. So if I did have any chance of coming across you at the palace, I don't have that anymore."

Samuel Harrison shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"I thought maybe I should pay a call to the chateau, but I hesitated, I know Lady Tremaine has long stopped approving of my visits if they aren't for medical appointments and even beside that I worried if you were still upset at me and wouldn't want to see me."

Upset at me. Isadora blinked. She hadn't even thought about the doctor for a month now.

Not for a second had he crossed her mind, but rather, her energy had all been utilized in thinking of the foreign king who she so dreaded to see again.

"It's alright," Isa managed, if only to get him to stop talking lest he reveal more of her life than what the customers of Hutton and Sons needed to know.

"Really, Doctor Harrison," She let out anxiously once he started to protest. "Your apology is accepted."

She felt a tinge of regret inside her then, as her harsh behavior towards the man after Ruby Alderidge's death played back in her mind like distorted flashbacks in a fever dream. Reeling from the loss of her best friend, the least Isa could've done was be civil to him, yet she had let her broken heart translate into her behavior instead of keeping it guarded.

He sighed, pursing his lips as he moved the top hat in his hands. Apparently, an acceptance of his apology wasn't all that he needed, and that realization alone frustrated Isa's compliance.

"Miss Tremaine..," He began, his voice wavering. "I understand that you do not reciprocate..."

Alarmed, Isa turned to glance at the people in the shop who were secretly invested, waiting with bated breath as this rather strange encounter they were witnessing, escalated.

"Doctor, please," She hastened, putting a gloved hand on his fingers that gripped the rim of his hat to his chest, out of her desperation.

Startled at her touch, he met her eyes with fervor, not understanding her panic induced haste.

"It is alright, Isadora," Samuel spoke. "I cannot force you to accept me, nor do I deserve your attentions. I refuse to let you feel the guilt for not giving me what I want from you."

Sudden gasps circulated around the shop and some of those releases of breaths were expertly morphed into coughs as customers pretended to engage in observing one article of clothing or the other, much to Mr Hutton's annoyance.

Isa cringed inwardly at the doctor's choice of words.

"I appreciate that," She managed, swallowing. "But Mr Harrison please-"

"No, please let me speak," Samuel let out then.

"Samuel, stop," Isadora blurted out then, her patience thinning out like the village doctor's prematurely balding head.

"You are embarrassing me," She spoke, her jaw tight and eyes sharp in his. "Please stop speaking to me right now."

He muttered a curse at himself under his breath, before his eyes filled with remorse.

"Isadora, I'm sorry," He glanced around, only just catching the people staring. "I didn't mean to-"

"Ah, Miss Tremaine," A third voice called out then, and Isa turned to find Mr Hutton's eldest son Charles with his hands pinned behind his tall back and his long blonde hair gathered sleek into a ponytail at the base of his neck.

Charles shot a stern look at Samuel Harrison, before meeting Isadora's eyes with an understanding gaze and extending an arm towards a screen at the corner of the shop.

"I'm terribly sorry to have kept you waiting, Miss Tremaine, but if you would please follow me along with little Archie, this way."

"And Doctor Harrison," Charles looked with a finality towards the doctor. "I believe your re-tailored suit is ready at the counter. Please receive it, you must have a plethora of appointments today that you must be anxious to get to. Father would hate for you to be late."

Isadora excused herself from Samuel Harrison's company, and led Archie towards where Charles had directed.

"Thank you," She managed under her breath to Mr Hutton's eldest, and in return the tall gentlemen only nodded in the acute understanding of a man who knew exactly what he had done and understood that it was appreciated.

It was minutes before the bell above the door jingled, signaling Samuel Harrison's disappointed exit, and as Isadora Tremaine watched him go, she thought about her future and Archie.

Lately, she had been playing cards with life, knowing that waiting only let time slip past. She desperately wanted to hold onto the sand in the glass, she desperately wanted the security she stayed awake at night for-the security for her future that she tried to manifest and hope for in every breath she breathed.

There was a guard outside of the glass, a terrifying specter slamming fists against the glass and forcing her with threats to hurry up. Her mother, her sister. Isa didn't know how long she could keep it all up-how long she could protect Archie while Lady Tremaine's frustration grew enough to turn Isadora and Archie both out of the chateau. The woman was now natural owner of the chateau after Cinderella's wedding. And thus, Isa's time was always on the verge of running short.

Releasing a breath, she focused on Charles Hutton dressing Archie in a new vest as he took note of the fitting.

The customers of the store thinned out, having gotten crumbs of gossip to chew on for the rest of the week and ensuring there was not much more likely to happen. Outside the sky cleared some more, giving the sun it's spotlight as the ball of fire warmed the winter lands below somewhat.

Yet there was still a chill lingering in Isadora's heart, where the sun couldn't reach.

***

A/N:
Filler chapter<3 but don't worry, stuff will be happening soon!