Cinder X Bella ~ Eight!

Winter passed quickly, with no changes, other than Bella's hands becoming harder, calloused, her body shifting slightly as she grew used to the harder lifestyle of being an indoor servant in a noble manor. The weather had been exceptionally harsh, setting her father’s caravans back by months. He’d grown more and more tense as the weeks went by, often vanishing into his study for days at a time.

As spring came, and the snows melted, all of his planning turned into action. He left the estate behind after emptying out every last scrap of trade goods. Frankly, Bella barely noticed his disappearance, far too exhausted with the additional chores springtime brought, such as trimming hedges and weeding the garden in preparation for planting. 

One morning, as she was coming in covered in a particularly noxious blend of soil and fertilizer, Bebee the maid suddenly appeared in her path, agitation showing on her face as she motioned for Bella to follow her. The young woman trudged along through the halls, pausing just outside the study and frantically pointing out a multicolored splatter on both the walls and floor. 

“What am I looking at, Bebee?” The young Beast Singer let out a grumpy sigh as she inspected the wide area which was now off-color, only to realize she wasn't about to get an answer. “Great, let's play a guessing game. I'm seeing reds, yellow, a tiny bit of purple… Malvagio? Let me guess, she spilled her paint and didn't bother to tell anyone.”

Bebee bit her lip, throwing a worried look at the stepsisters’ door in the distance, before quickly nodding. Bella forced a strained smile onto her face and reached out to give her fellow maid a reassuring pat on the shoulder, only for the woman to dodge; a bit of color appearing in her cheeks. 

“Why…? Oh, I'm so sorry, I haven't washed up at all. Would you mind helping me out with grabbing a bucket? I have a solvent we can add to it, which might be enough to get this off.” It took only a few minutes to return with a brush, mop, and hand rags. The mixture worked well, but slowly. They scrubbed and scrubbed, and only after they’d been at it for a while did Bella realize the other maid was looking rather frantic. “Did you have something else you needed to be doing? Go, I can handle this!”

Bebee shot her a greatly relieved expression, dropped her rag in the bucket, and hurried down the stairs, vanishing around the corner as Bella slopped some more water onto the ground.

“Malvagio, isn't it bad enough that you’re cold and apathetic? Do you have to be destructive on top of it?” Only after she’d stated the words did Bella realize they’d been spoken aloud, and she pressed her lips together. “That's odd, I thought I was done complaining about them to everyone but the mice. Why do I feel so… angry, all of a sudden?”

She paused to reflect on her thoughts, the silence allowing her to notice that the angry muttering wasn't only in her own mind—there were malevolent, harsh whispers slithering through the door of the study. Trying to figure out what was going on, Bella stepped closer and pressed her ear to the wooden barrier.

“-useless, incompetent, nearly worthless!” a harsh voice she had never heard before rang out. Bella's forehead scrunched, and she tried to place the unknown person. However, there had been no indication of another person arriving at the manor—no riders had arrived, and there was nothing in her notebook about a planned visit. 

Bella’s eyes went wide as her stepmother's voice cut in, but whatever she said was spoken too softly to make out what she was saying. Either way, Matringa wasn't able to speak long before the cold, oily voice cut her off. “I only need to hear you say it will be here and be ready for when we move forward. You don't want to fail me twice.”

Her stepmother replied, once again too softly for Bella to make out details. It seemed as if the proud woman was nearly begging for something, and it sent chills down her spine as Matringa struggled to get out each word. She intrinsically understood something nefarious was afoot, and she needed to know what it was. As the harsh voice began again, she grimaced in annoyance that they seemed to have gotten their temper under control and were now speaking softly. She strained to hear what was being said but only managed to catch snippets of the conversation. 

“Limited number… truly cursed objects,” the voice seethed. “You… fullest extent of its ability! Understand? Well? All the planning… the potential will be lost! The cost will be yours alone to bear, and I—what was that?”

Bella's head had gently bumped against the door as she tried to adjust her position, and she’d already started scrambling away as soon as she made the noise. By the time the entrance to the study was flung open, Bella was across the hall, up to her elbows in water as she vigorously scrubbed the wall. 

Matringa glared at her for a long moment, biting her tongue as she held herself back from accusing the young woman of something. Finally, the stately lady decided on simply asking a question, “Whatever are you doing, Bella?”

Though her voice was harsh, Bella could still detect a hint of deadly intent—as well as fear, going by how she clutched a book in her hand like a weapon. Matringa’s knuckles were white and bloodless from the strength of her grip, but the young woman pretended not to notice any of that as she glanced over, keeping a mildly annoyed expression on her face. “Hmm? Oh, Stepmother. Somehow, paint got all over the wall and floor, as if by magic. Clearly it happened on its own, as no one bothered to point it out early enough for me to get it off before it set.” 

“Being passive aggressive is no substitute for wit, Bella,” Matringa replied almost reflexively, relaxing as she saw her stepdaughter acting no different than usual. “Well. Get back to it, and stop lurking around. I'm trying to read; I don't need to hear disturbing noises in the hallway.” 

As the door to the study began closing, Bella clearly heard the woman mutter, “Perhaps I should put bells on them. Servants popping up out of nowhere-”

As soon as there was a barrier between them, Bella allowed herself to take a few deep, panicked breaths. “There was no one else in there? Who was she talking to, then?”

Before she could relax fully, the door suddenly swung open again, as if to catch anyone next to it off guard. Matringa watched Bella carefully, and the young woman kept a carefully confused expression on her face. “Good, good. I'm glad to see you are behaving properly; for a moment there, I thought you might be trying to find a new skill in skullduggery. I'm glad to see that's not the case. Humm… why don't you join me for tea? It's been… oh, months now since we've last talked.”

Bella clearly remembered their last ‘talk’ and had no desire to be threatened with strange magical effects or sold off to some other household if Matringa could level a false accusation against her and have her voice removed. Until this very moment, she’d been trying to put her negative thoughts on her stepmother out of her mind, but… someone in that room had been talking about cursed objects. Only the most vile people imaginable had access to such magic, and already the young woman was beginning to go over all their prior interactions with a lice comb.

“Stepmother… if I don't get this off the wood soon, it won't be coming off.” Bella half-heartedly waved her wet rag at the wall, sending droplets splattering across the floor.

“It will be taken care of. Put the rag down; join me in the study.” Matringa half turned, then reached into the study and pulled out a bell. Holding it with her index finger and thumb, she gently shook it then waited with a patient expression on her face. Cece soon came rushing up the stairs, a pained expression on her face, which only faded as she got within a few feet of Matringa. “There you are, finally. Tea for Bella and me, sugar and cream. Send one of the others up to finish scouring the wall and floor.”

Cece vigorously nodded, her eyes on the bell still held gently between Matringa’s fingers. When it was set down, the maid seemed greatly relieved, sketching a curtsy, turning, and rapidly walking away. 

Matringa watched her go, turning to Bella with cold eyes and a smug smile. “That one is an excellent maid. She's so very motivated to be prompt, professional, and discreet. How do you feel about the new help, Bella? Are they listening to you properly?”

“They’re… very capable. They picked up on the needs of the household very quickly, and I don't think I've ever seen them idle.” Bella felt as if her words were coming out slowly—she felt as if she had just missed something important, some threat or point her stepmother was trying to make. 

“Humm… yes, of all the household staff I've gone through in my life—more than you could probably imagine—these three have been my favorite.” Matringa motioned Bella into the study, sitting in Alaric's seat as the younger lady tried to get comfortable in the guest chair. They waited a moment as the sound of Cece’s hurried steps in the hallway became louder, the maid popping in and setting down a tray a moment later. She poured the tea, looked to Matringa for approval, and quickly left the room. “That said…”

The stepmother trailed off, taking a long sip of tea and closing her eyes to savor it. “That said, with the way the world is going, they may need to be dismissed.”

“What? Dismissed? I thought you’d purchased their contract, and they couldn't leave because they were criminals you were rehabilitating? Or something like that?” Bella looked at the tea in front of her, deciding against adding sugar to it, since she got the feeling she was there for some specific purpose. No need to be wasteful, when her mind told her it was unlikely she would be allowed to drink it in the first place.

“Yes, well, what with your father rushing to and fro with his work as a merchant, I've been appealing to him to invest in higher stakes. These piddly deals he's been brokering whilst wallowing away at the manor are beneath him. He's a Master Merchant, and he will never push through to level ten in his skills without taking risks.” Matringa sipped her tea, staring at Bella over the rim of her cup. 

When the young woman didn't say anything, Matringa let out a soft noise and placed the dish on its saucer. “However, taking risks means money will be extraordinarily tight until he is successful. Reduced in status as they are, these maids don't work for free. None of them, that is, save…”

Bella felt herself flush as her stepmother sent her a knowing look before leaning back in her chair. “It sounds like you’re saying I’m a-”

“A loving daughter, yes.” Matringa interrupted skillfully. “That's one of the reasons I was hoping to have this conversation with you. I was thinking perhaps you could speak with him, Bella.”

Of all the ways this talk could have gone, this was not what she’d expected. Bella let out an incredulous, bitter laugh, “Me? I haven't influenced my father in… well, a long time.”

“I don't know about all that; you may be surprised what a heartfelt plea from a daughter can do.” Matringa folded her hands in her lap, waiting for Bella's expected outburst.

She didn't disappoint. A deep snort shot out of Bella's nose. “I've been pleading to advance my class for over half a year now. You've seen how much good that's done. Alaric doesn't listen to me or care what I have to say. You think I can convince him to do anything? To that end, what are you even asking for?”

“Alaric now, is it? Oh me, oh my… as to what I’m asking, perhaps just that we could change his mind… together.” Matringa dangled the offer in front of her like a sugar cube before a reluctant horse. “You have something you want from him, and I have something I want from him. If we work together, he won't know what hit him. He'll never stand a chance.”

“You’d help me get an Advanced Class?” Bella shifted her gaze, staring into her untouched teacup. The strange noises she’d heard earlier were practically out of mind at this point, but she still didn't believe this conversation was happening. “You never told me exactly what it is you want.”

“I want what you want, child. I want this family to succeed.” The intensity in Matringa’s voice caused Bella to look up, locking eyes with her stepmother. “When he comes back from his current sub-par sales trip, I want you to work with me to convince him to collect all of his funds and what I brought in, and do a real deal. I want him to run the sort of caravan he used to, the kind which brings in enough money to buy a noble title. Why, when he returns, he'll be so flush with success and excitement that we could go as a family to the Class Shrine. We could revamp the barn out back, restaff, and bring House Vigatori back to its rightful place.”

As much as she wanted to agree, just to get an Advanced Class and new skills to begin working on, Bella paused and considered the implications of the deal. “Matringa, a caravan like that, one that could bring in such a large sum of money… there's no way to do that locally. Even a single trip would take him months on end, possibly a year or more!” 

“Yes, that would put quite the burden on you if you were the only maid. I understand,” Matringa stated with a patronizing huff. “Are you truly going to be so selfish as to refuse some hard work when it will mean you get everything you want, and your father does the same?”

“No, I mean, wait… I'm not sure why I’d be the only one expected to help around here?” Bella waved that aside as her stepmother’s face went hard, sitting up straighter as her thoughts gained clarity, “As much as Alaric and I argue, he's still my father, and I want him to be around. To be in my life. This winter was already difficult enough, and not seeing him for-”

“Just answer. Are you going to help me with this, or not?” Matringa interrupted coldly, staring at the young woman, who simply sat and tried to think. As the silence stretched, the stepmother merely scoffed and stood, waving both hands in a shooing motion. “You know what? Perhaps I was wrong to try and make peace with you, I suppose your father really did know what he was doing when he decided you should be a servant in this household. Get out of my study. Get out of my sight.” 

Bella’s mouth dropped open, but the barrage continued, drowning out her attempts to accept the offer.

“I don't want to hear it. You were right in the first place; I'll handle this myself. You haven't influenced him in a long time, so why would he care what you had to say?”