Before Louisa got a chance to finish, a low voice interrupted them.
“Late again, I see.”
From the way Louisa instantly straightened, Cinderella deduced the woman who’d spoken had to be Madame Irmina.
“Stay here,” Louisa whispered, waving Cinderella back into the hallway.
Dipping into the shadows, Cinderella pressed her back against the wall and peeked out. Madame Irmina was shorter than she’d imagined, given how tall her niece was, but she stood as though she towered over Louisa, her back stiff as an ironing board. Everything about her was precise: her hair was meticulously arranged into a neat, round bun with not a gray tendril out of place, and her apron was the whitest, most spotless swath of fabric Cinderella had ever seen.
Not a woman to be crossed.
“That’s the third time this month, Louisa.”
“Yes, I know. I was up late last night helping my mother, and—”
“No excuses. You know the rules.”
Louisa quieted. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Don’t think because you’re my niece you have the privilege of flouting the rules. I warned you last time that—”
“Have a heart, Aunt Irmina,” Louisa interrupted. “Papa’s—”
“Save the speech. I’ve heard it all before. Your papa’s been here ever since you were born—and it’s always been your dream to work here with him.” Irmina huffed. “If it really is your dream, try being on time.”
“My ma’s shop needed extra help last night. I’ll do double my tasks—”
“How can you? You’re the slowest seamstress in the entire palace—”
“Yes, but that’s because my stitches are the neatest.”
“And your mouth is certainly the rudest.” Irmina glared at her. “Rules are rules. All I ask is that you be on time, and I will not make an exception for you because we’re family.”
“I’m the reason she’s late,” Cinderella spoke up. “Please don’t punish her on my behalf.”
No,Louisa mouthed, trying to wave her away. “Get back in the hall,” she whispered.
But it was too late.
Madame Irmina spun to face her. “And who are you?”
“Cinderella, ma’am.”
A deep frown set Irmina’s tight features. “There is no Cinderella among my girls.”
“I brought her,” Louisa said. “We’ll be in need of more staff if there’s to be a new princess, and she’s a decent seamstress—”
“And who are you to judge whether someone is a decent seamstress?” Madame Irmina said testily. “I make the decisions regarding the household, and we do not need another seamstress.”
“She has no other place to go. I found her on the street.”
“The street!” Irmina repeated with horror. “You cannot simply bring runaways into the palace. There is a long interview process. Not just anyone is fit to serve His Royal Majesty’s household. References must be made and inquired after.”
“Please,” begged Cinderella. “I have nowhere else to go. I can cook and clean and sew—”
“This is the palace.” Madame Irmina sniffed. “If we wanted just anyone who could cook and clean and sew, we would have asked for a wench from the local tavern.”
“Have a heart, Aunt Irmina,” repeated Louisa.
