Fairytales Reimagined, Volume I Read online

  Fairytales Reimagined, Volume I

  By Valerie Sells

  Fairytales Reimagined, Volume I

  including Cinderblocked and The Beauty in the Beast

  Copyright: Valerie Sells

  Published: 3rd January 2018

  Publisher: Valerie Sells

  The right of Valerie Sells to be identified as author of these Works has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  Cinderblocked

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  The Beauty in the Beast

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  About the Author

  Other Titles by the Author

  Cinderblocked

  By Valerie Sells

  Chapter 1

  By royal appointment every eligible maiden in the county was to attend the ball. That was what the invitation said and my aunt took it very seriously. Not that I blamed her. Defying a royal proclamation was all but treason, and in any case, society would surely shun any person that refused such a request. Of course, the bother of it was that it wasn’t Aunt Beatrice herself that had to worry about accepting such an invitation. Middle-aged and widowed as she was, she didn’t qualify in the least, but I did.

  Eligible maiden. It is such a strange turn of phrase. Maiden I was indeed, but eligible? What does the word even truly mean? That I am qualified to stand up and be counted as a woman fit for marriage, I suppose, and yet I never considered myself as such. There was nothing wrong with me you understand, not really. True enough, I was and am an orphan, but that could hardly be counted against me. I suppose it would help if I started from the very beginning, long before the invitation to attend the royal ball.

  My name is Emelia DeMontford. At the time of the tale I am to tell, I was nineteen years old, and had been brought up from the age of seven by my dear Aunt Beatrice and Uncle William. My parents had been lost to malaria in some far away land on a trip that saw me left behind to continue my all-important studies. If I was to be a lady, as they so wished me to be, I must not leave the safety and education of home and a governess. I consider that choice both a blessing and a curse, even now, and always have. To have been with my parents at their tragic end would have meant never suffering their loss. At the same time, I do believe it was some comfort to dear my aunt to have her niece to remind her always of her lost sister.

  I never saw a point in dwelling on the tragedy of my beginnings. I was well cared for as a child, loved almost as a daughter by my dearest relations. Though I could never, should never be seen as better than my darling cousin, Alexa, I never considered myself unwanted, not once.

  Myself and Aunt Beatrice saw eye to eye on most things. She was all for me furthering my education as much as I wished, even if she never did understand why a woman should want to know so very much. To her mind, as I grew older, I ought better to spend my time in fashion, deportment, elocution, and the art of convincing a man of good fortune to make me his bride.

  It was not so much that I did not believe in marriage or even in love. On the contrary, I have always been a fan of a good romance, be it the fiction of novels or the reality of friends and neighbours’ happy lives. The difference between myself and a great many other young women my age was that my ambitions simply stretched far beyond the wedding gowns and large chateaus that they dreamt of.

  I longed for adventure, for the world to look upon me as something different to wife and mother. I did not wish to be better than them, and if this dream was their idea of heaven, I wished them well in achieving all. I only longed for different things, for travel, a hint of excitement and danger. You might think it strange that I had such a longing to see the world when it was such travels that took away my parents. I suppose I always believed in the theory that the only thing to fear was fear itself.

  My parents were not supposed to live to old age, that was clear, and so they were lost to me. I believed my own destiny involved sailing far away from here, perhaps discovering shores unknown or creatures unseen. My interests were wide and varied in such things. I read a great many books written by voyagers and explorers, all male, of course, dreaming of one day adding my name to their ranks. The first woman to sail across the Atlantic Ocean perhaps.

  What this meant for me in reality was that whilst most young women spent their time in boutiques buying dresses, starving themselves to fit into tighter corsets, and twirling parasols in the park for attention, I was at home, in the depths of the library or my own rooms, pouring over the most riveting of books and papers.

  There was no practical education to be had in such a subject, most especially for a woman, but until such a time as I could find a way to make my dreams come true, I continued my deep study into all related areas, for hours and hours every single day.

  Alexa studied too, but at just thirteen when this story takes place, she was still in the basic education of a young lady. Maths, English, History, piano lessons, and riding instruction. For her most feminine of education, Ms. Caroline attended her. For her book study and music lessons, she had Bradbury.

  Perhaps I should have been calling him Mr. Bradbury even then, but he had been in the house almost as long as I could remember. Mr. Bradbury Snr. had been my uncle’s man servant, and his son, who was just a few years my senior, had kept me company on more than one occasion when I was very young. We hadn’t quite grown up together as such, but we saw each other as friends more than lady of the house and employee. He was always just Bradbury to me, not even Anthony as you might expect a friend to know him, and yet as we grew older I reverted from Emelia to Miss. DeMontford.

  It was strange to me at first, but by this point I accepted it, as I accepted a great many things about my life. I was not as other young women my age, in too many ways to count. I chose not to think or worry about such things and carry on just as I was, for I was content. No reason to change just for the sake of it, I supposed.

  Of course, the day the royal proclamation arrived, I was all but terrified that everything in my world was about to change, and for the worst. Never had I been a vain person, but I did understand that I was what you might call a handsome young woman. With fair hair, green eyes, a reasonable complexion, and a figure that tended to do as I wanted it to, I had no reason for complaint. I would fit well enough amongst the hordes of women sure to descend upon the palace that night, and that was what I feared most of all.

  There was no doubt in anyone’s mind what this ball really meant. The king was impatient for his son to be wed. The royal ball was almost definitely to find the prince a wife. Whomsoever he chose would have to learn to live by his side, the princess of our entire kingdom, admired by all, watched and judged for the rest of her life. No, it was not something I could bear. It would take a better woman than I to take on such a role, and yet my choices were limited.

  Stood there in the hallway, the parchment in my hand, I knew there was no possible way to refuse such an invitation. My eyes stayed on the all-important words - every eligible maiden.
Such a statement had no loopholes, no excuses attached to it, and even though I knew that to be true, I could not bear to look up and meet my aunt’s eyes. She would say what I already knew, at the very earliest opportunity she received. She would ensure I attended the ball, if for no other reason but that she should not lose face.

  My uncle’s death two years ago had left our position precarious at best. We had our home, enough money, certainly, but our status was damaged by dear Uncle William’s loss. Beatrice could not bear to be seen in public alone or even with only myself for company, if I had a mind to attend such events. She was becoming altogether reclusive, much of her time spent alone or at best with Alexa. Such behaviour left me to my own devices, such as I had ever been, but it also meant that when opportunities presented themselves for me to help our social situation, they were very much to be leapt upon.

  “Every eligible maiden,” I echoed the words before my eyes, trying not to show the panic I felt inside as I finally glanced up at my aunt.

  “Indeed,” she intoned, one word coupled with a look that said so very much.

  I had no doubt in my mind before that moment that I was attending this ball whether I liked it or not, but if I had wondered on the subject at all, every possible doubt would have been gone in that second, killed stone dead.

  Aunt Beatrice needed me to do my duty and do it I must. It was so strange, as I watched her sweep out of the foyer, my eyes returning to the invitation in my hands. I thought, quite suddenly, that I must be the only maiden in the kingdom not completely overwhelmed and thoroughly overjoyed at the prospect of this ball. It was the last place I wanted to go, the very last event I would choose to attend, but attend I must it seemed.

  “Miss. DeMontford?” said a voice from the farthest door.

  I didn’t have to look up, for I knew who was there. Only one man addressed me as such that would be roaming freely in our home.

  “Oh, Bradbury,” I let out a breath I hardly knew I had been holding as I spoke his name.

  “Are you quite alright, Miss. DeMontford?” he asked as he came over to me.

  It was only when I saw the concern in his looks that I realised how very pale I must have become. One hand clutched at my own chest, the other still grasping the parchment which I then allowed Bradbury to take.

  “A royal ball?” he said with some apparent astonishment as he read the announcement. “This troubles you?”

  “It concerns me somewhat,” I was forced to admit. “I mean, I am not so vain as to think I might be the chosen one but-”

  “You?” he checked, and I shall admit his tone might have wounded me if I were not so surprised by it. “That is to say, of course, there is no reason why the prince should not choose you, or any other maiden in the kingdom. He has his pick, of course.”

  “Of course,” the echo of his words was as coincidental as it was absent.

  I had already begun backing up the staircase, my mind a veritable whirl. There were tears forming in my eyes that I could not possible explain, and thankfully did not have to as I made my escape.

  My life had contained its fair share of tragedy at this point, but was by no means bad. At that time in my life, I was happy, content, settled. It had occurred to me that one day marriage and children may play a part in my future, but never at that particular time. Beside which, I had thought to fall in love first, and then marry a man of similar rank to my own, of state and fortune equal to my own family. I could have managed that, even at nineteen if I must, but a prince?

  I am of course well aware that in those few minutes I was getting far and beyond myself. To think the heir to the throne might choose me above all other young women in the kingdom, it sounded vain at best, and could be so much worse in the eyes of anyone who did not know my temperament. Still, my imagination had always been vivid, and already I had calculated all possible outcomes, including the very worst of all, in which I should be called upon to be princess, and later queen, of our fair kingdom. I was genuinely terrified of such a day presenting itself, and so I wept.

  Chapter 2

  Staring into the mirror, I had not entirely realised how long I sat there on the edge of my bed just thinking. Perhaps it had been an hour or two, quite possibly just as little as five minutes, before my door flew open and my darling cousin came bounding in, her face practically alight with joy.

  “Oh, Emelia!” she cried, as she came diving onto the bed beside me. “You’re really going to a royal ball! I can scarce believe it! I am so very jealous!”

  “You really shouldn’t be, Alexa.” I sighed heavily. “I am sure I would not be if the situation were reversed.”

  She didn’t understand, of course she couldn’t. At just thirteen, she had several years yet before she need concern herself with romances and marriage, of making a suitable match, or deciding on some other destiny. My time was here and now, and there was no escape if the prince should choose me. Whilst so many girls were probably wishing their very hardest to be the one he most admired, I had so far done nothing but pray for quite the opposite to occur.

  “Emelia, don’t be tiresome!” Alexa told me, bouncing on her knees beside me. “You’re actually attending a royal ball! At the palace! With the prince present!” she enthused so much it even made me smile, if only a little. “How could anyone not be thrilled by such a thing?”

  “How could they not?”

  The words echoed from my mouth even as my eyes lost focus. It ought to be a dream come true. Perhaps it would be, if I was not patently aware what the real meaning of this ball was, or if I were amenable to being a princess. It was not a wholly bad idea, of course. Beautiful dresses, riches, and esteem, these were not things to be scoffed at, but they were so far removed from my dreams.

  I was all ahead of myself, for what might well have been the hundredth time since the invitation arrived, but it was difficult to help it. I realised then, perhaps Alexa, despite her excitement, could be a distraction for me.

  “It is unlikely the prince will notice me above all others,” I told myself as well as my cousin. “Every eligible maiden in the kingdom does include a good many young women.”

  Alexa frowned a little as she considered that, slumping down on the bed the moment stood up from it.

  “Mr. Bradbury taught me a great deal about local history just recently,” she said thoughtfully.

  I moved to sit at my vanity table, watching her in the mirror.

  “Approximately half the current population are likely to be female...” she continued, noticeably making calculations on her fingers, as her voice dropped to the merest muttering.

  I could not hear and did not mind for the moment. Looking into the glass before me, I turned my head left and right. Passably pretty, that was how I considered myself, but not beautiful enough for a prince to choose. Besides which, I could keep to the back of the crowd as much as possible. There would so many women present at this ball, and our great ruler’s son was bound to prefer one of them to little old me, I was sure of it. Miss. Pritchard down the avenue was a famous local beauty, with several men already vying for her hand. Plus, there were the three Miss. Walters from across town, and the youngest Miss. Jenkins who was yet to be made a bride, at barely sixteen.

  “One hundred and forty-seven, approximately,” said Alexa, all out of blue.

  I had quite forgotten she had been making calculations and was startled by her sudden outburst of such a number. I turned back to peer at her and noticed she was up off the bed now and walking over to me. As short as she was and with myself seated, we were almost the same height in that moment.

  “That’s how many eligible maidens should be at the ball,” she explained, for I must still have looked bemused. “One hundred and forty-seven, approximately,” she repeated with a bright smile. “Surely you will be the most beautiful of all, Emmy.”

  It was a kind compliment she paid me, her small hands at my shoulders as we both turned to look into the mirror. Her face pushed up against mine, I was inclined to s
ay that she was the beauty out of the two of us, and she so eager to be a princess. If only the king had been less anxious, she might attend this ball as eligible. As it was, it was all at least three years too early for such a dream to come true for my dearest Alexa.

  “I wish I had your dreams, darling,” I told her with a sigh, my cheek pressed against her own. “You would make the most elegant and perfect princess were you of age. My own dreams are much less obtainable, it seems.”

  Alexa smiled at the compliment, the only part of my comment she truly heard. I could not blame her, not ever. I understood her behaviour, at her age and the most feminine of creatures in so many ways already, of course her only dream was to meet a prince, fall in love, and live happily ever after. It was myself that had the alternative life planned, or would have, if I truly believed it were possible. A princess was an unlikely end for me, but at least a vague possibility. The real route I wished my life to take was far beyond the realms of probability in truth, at least it ought to be so for a woman. That didn’t stop me dreaming, always.

  “Shall you have a new dress, Emelia?” Alexa was asking as she danced away from me, over to the closet to investigate. “Mama says you may if you must, but suggested the blue silk completed for your last birthday.”

  That at least I understood and found a smile for. The gown Aunt Beatrice had mentioned to Alexa was perhaps the most perfect of choices for a royal ball, if such a thing were possible. It had been made especially, as most of our best dresses were. I had worn it only once before, and then I had not left our own home for fear of spoiling such a beautiful piece of artwork. The seamstresses in town were surely the best in the country, I was sure, and was reminded of that fact once again as Alexa carefully brought over the gown from my closet and laid it on the bed.

  “You shall be the belle of the ball, Emmy,” Alexa told me with a sigh. “The prince will be completely overcome, and shall notice no other.”