Cinder X Bella ~ Twenty-Two!

Several days later, Bella was called up to the sitting room, where her stepmother was waiting for her. Without a word, Matringa held out a long black coat. It was fluffy enough that it had to be stuffed with down, and while obviously not new, it looked warm.

Bella was delighted.

“It's wonderful! Thank you!” She took the coat, hugging it to herself while looking closely at the wooden buttons and running her fingers along the soft fabric. For a long moment, Matringa frowned, her brow furrowing as she tried to reconcile her expectations with this elated reaction for an old, heavily used coat. 

Eventually, the Signora merely shrugged and allowed a smile to play about her lips. “Yes, well, Giada the Younger… the not-dead one, won't be needing it. Here, one of Malvagio’s old dresses for you to wear as well.”

“Giada?” Bella went stock-still, even as her stepmother perked up.

“Why, yes, she left it behind when she left town. Since both her mother and father have passed on, it was time for her to go as well. After all, the house was never theirs; it was merely a loan from our family to her parents, to use as long as they wished. Well, they aren't using it anymore.” Matringa walked from the room, calling over her shoulder, “We're leaving for the Earl's estate within the hour. I suggest you put together your clothes and get the dress on.”

Bella knew her stepmother wanted her to be upset about her childhood friend leaving the area, but she could only feel relieved that Giada had escaped Matringa’s clutches. Taking only a moment to be thankful for this fact, Bella hurried down to her room and frantically began packing. After significantly less than an hour, her stepfamily impatiently began shouting for her to join them, and she rushed through the cold outside air with her sweaty gown clinging to her.

By the time the carriage began moving, she was decidedly shivering. To her surprise, Bella was seated next to Cattiva in the wagon, instead of on the driver's seat or some other ignoble position. 

The ride passed ever so slowly, with each of the others simply staring at Bella, waiting for any small infraction they could use to nitpick her attitude, clothing, or whatever they could think of. The only silver lining for Bella—though confusing—was that Malvagio was not wearing a dress made from the fabric gifted to her by Bibbidy. Thinking about that, and trying to figure out why, gave her enough mental space to ignore the constant jibes. 

Eventually, the stepsisters got bored and pulled out a book. Cattiva began reading, while Malvagio sketched away on blank pages, though she had to keep pausing, reaching under the sleeves of her dress to fiercely scratch at herself as though she’d fallen into a patch of poison ivy. 

“Stop that, Malvagio.” Matringa ordered her oldest daughter. “It's not going to help. You are only tearing up your skin; I told you already, we will fix this when we can.” 

After an interminable ride, they began exiting the carriage, but not before Matringa gave Malvagio a not-so-subtle nod. The older stepsister began whispering under her breath, touching the sketch she’d been working on. Before Bella could question their antics, a footman was reaching for her hand and pulling her out of the carriage.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome friends!” Rosa called over, her eyes landing on Bella and widening fractionally. “Oh! You look much improved from last time, I do hope you've gotten over whatever was ailing you.”

Once more, Bella was excluded from the greeting hugs, but at least this time she wasn't literally barred from being near the Earl's new wife. The Beast Singer grumbled internally, swearing to herself she would soon find a mirror and figure out what illusion had been draped over her true appearance. Still, this time she knew better than to try and make a complaint or ask for help—at least until the illusion began to fade, then she’d actually have proof that she wasn't simply trying to cause damage to her stepmother's reputation. 

They were escorted into the house, and Bella gasped at the sight of the packed room. It had been years since she’d been around more than a handful of people at a time, and she felt a rush of shyness. Remembering her etiquette lessons, she forced herself to begin taking even breaths. Her discomfort only grew as she passed a mirror, though this time around, her visage wasn't nearly so grotesque as Malvagio had forced upon her the last time they met with Rosa.

“I've got hair and teeth this time. I’m practically beautiful compared to last year.” This time, the person looking back at her from the mirror was much more believable as a real person, instead of a caricature. Yet, there was no escaping the sheer unpleasantness she evoked in others. “Her artistry sure has progressed, hasn't it? Good for her… me, not so much.”

She was seated at the table directly adjacent to Matringa, and immediately, servants began to filter past, putting snacks and treats on their plates. Bella looked around, noticing plenty of people diving in, and so she reached out and took a small bite of a sugar cookie, immediately beginning to hum in delight at the intense, sweet flavor. After a moment, she realized her error, scanning the room and noting a mouse staring directly at her. Changing her tune, Bella cautioned all small animals to stay away from the ballroom. 

She had no doubt that traps and cats would be brought in immediately if a guest saw there was vermin scurrying about in the Earl’s house. Murmuring to herself as she reached for another treat, Bella compared herself to those very mice and tried to figure out what sort of trap Matringa was setting up for her. “Gotta make sure I don't somehow use my class’s powers and embarrass our host. I bet my tormentor would figure out a way to refuse to allow me to practice my skills.”

Reaching for the fruit tart on her plate, she turned her head to the side and found Matringa staring directly at her. Bella froze in place, realizing a moment later that they were alone at the table. The Signora leaned in. “Why don't you go dance? The other girls were swept away barely moments after sitting down.”

“Something tells me my current makeup just isn't to the tastes of the men dancing around in here,” Bella replied firmly, leaving no openings for Matringa to jump on. “I didn't even notice them go; I've been enjoying the food too much.”

“Well. No arguments there.” The Signora gave a pointed look down toward Bella's stomach before turning to watch her girls dance. For a moment, Bella wavered between dropping the fruit tart or eating it, but she eventually shrugged and popped it into her mouth.

It was there to be eaten, and she rarely had such quality food these days.

A few minutes later, the dance ended, and the stepsisters returned to the table, winded but laughing. Their mother greeted them with a tight smile, causing both of the young ladies to cease their giggling and sit up straight. “I hope we all remember why we're here. Bella, at this point, why don't you just go over to the buffet directly? Perhaps you can even leave a few scraps for the rest of us.”

“Absolutely, Matringa.” Pretending not to understand how she was being insulted, Bella immediately took the opportunity to escape and leapt to her feet. She moved directly toward the area where food had been set out, ignoring the scoff behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed both of her stepsisters were on their feet, trailing along behind her. “Abyss, I’d been hoping they’d be focused on other things tonight.”

“Would one of you pretty young ladies care to dance?” a man's voice called out just behind her, and Bella froze. She turned around, letting out a small sigh of relief when she realized the nobleman was speaking to Malvagio.

The older girl brushed her hair back over her ear, showing a bright smile before pointing the man at Bella, using the motion to hide how her other hand began vigorously scratching at her lower back. “I just came off the dance floor, perhaps I can convince you to twirl about with my stepsister for a song or two?”

Though he appeared disappointed, the man turned toward Bella, only for his polite smile to become strained. “Ah, unfortunately, I see my good friend has just arrived, and I must run to greet him!”

Even though she knew exactly what was going on, Bella felt a flush of humiliation tinge her cheeks red. She ended up standing next to the buffet for so long that Matringa  herself finally marched over, hissing at her angrily, “How long are you going to stand here? Are you just eating directly out of the chafing dishes like this is a pig trough? Get back to-”

Before she could spew any more of her vile words, no matter how muted they might be, a small dog jumped out of a nearby lady's arms and rushed toward Matringa, growling and snapping. Bella hummed softly, thinking calm thoughts, trying to get the small creature to go away, but the dog refused to stop, even when his owner tried to call him back over and over. Finally, a man stepped forward, heavily relying on a cane and scooping up the pup.

“Come now, what are you yapping about? Forgive us, Signora, he's but a puppy, and we've been having the most difficult time finding a qualified trainer.” The gentleman bowed as gracefully as his apparent injury would allow. As for the dog, it had stopped snarling, but it was still staring Matringa down, showing its teeth and letting its tongue snake out to lick at its lips every few seconds. 

Oddly enough, Matringa had gone pale over the encounter, though she attempted to gracefully excuse herself from the situation. “Think nothing of it.”

She swept away, and the elderly man turned to Bella with a far different expression on his face. “Signora Vigatori, you don't seem to be having much fun. A sweet girl like you should be right in your element here.”

“I don't get out… much.” Bella finished her statement somewhat lamely, unsure what to say at the moment. She didn't fail to notice she’d been called a ‘sweet girl’ and not a ‘pretty young lady’ as she had been hearing her stepsisters being called all night. Still, she found herself relaxing in his presence, especially with the dog staring at her with its ears up and a clear smile on its face. “What's his name?”

“Pacatezza.” The man vigorously pet the dog, and it leaned into the open hand happily. “I call him Paca for short. I had been hoping naming him ‘calmness’ would help, but it doesn't seem to be working, as you have no doubt noticed. But… you know what?”

The old man leaned in conspiratorially. “You may think me an old fool, but I think dogs have a way of knowing who are good people and who aren't. Nobody in the dark wants to be found out, but dogs? Dogs know. They’re too pure for the darkness of this world, and they’ll warn you about it, if you listen. But… to be fair, he barks at everyone. Everyone but you, I guess!”

Letting out a deep laugh, he nodded at her and walked back to his wife, speaking softly to his puppy. Moments later, a young man—just a little older than Bella—stood from the table and walked over to her, a smile on his face. As he got closer, she realized he stood at least a head taller than she did. The smile on his face exuded confidence, though he had an air of a scholar about him. Stopping an arm's length away from her, he sketched a bow, his curly brown hair bouncing gently as he completed the motion.

He looked up, deep brown eyes swirling with a strangely intense reflection of firelight meeting her own baby blues; intelligence, curiosity, and a hint of mischief within them. As he opened his mouth, his clear, articulate words reinforced her supposition of his intense tutelage. “I beg your pardon, had I managed to lay eyes on you sooner, I would have earnestly requested the honor of a dance. Is there some small chance you might forgive my oversight and find room to grant me that privilege?”

“Um. Me?” Though she was trying her hardest not to look around and see if he was speaking to someone behind her, Bella still found it hard to believe he was looking directly at her.

“Only if you are free, of course…?” He let the question linger until she finally remembered her manners and nodded frantically. With a grin, he took her hand and led her to the dance floor.

They swept around the room once, Bella concentrating on not stepping his feet, while he concentrated on studying her. As they twirled past candles, the flames flared higher, causing their shadows to dance along the walls and light to continually shift the contours of their faces. For some reason, the music continued on and on, far longer than any of the songs before. 

Finally it ended, and her only dance partner of the evening stepped back and bowed. Bella curtsied in return, feeling breathless and light-headed, but unable to keep the smile off her face. 

Paca barked, drawing their attention to the older couple who were on their feet. “My apologies, it seems my parents are eager to return home. I won't forget this dance. Perhaps we will meet up at another such locale in the future?”

Before she could answer, he swept away, only to be replaced by Matringa in the next moment. As the Signora opened her mouth to speak, Rosa stepped closer, staring at Bella incredulously. “By the system, dancing agrees with you! You must come back again. Why, you nearly look like a different person.”

Matringa flinched at Rosa's words, as though she’d been physically struck, her eyes flicking back to Bella and turning calculating. 

“Mother, I need-” Malvagio stepped forward and whispered to her mother, but Bella didn't hear what else she said. Her eyes were drawn to Malvagio’s neck, where an aggressive rash was spreading from under her dress.

Matringa noticed as well. Very quickly, she thanked their host for the lovely evening, politely refused an overnight stay, and hustled her charges out to the carriage.