Stepmother: A Cinderella Origin Story

By Kate Callaghan

Before she was Cinderella's stepmother, she was Hélène Longe, the beautiful only daughter of a prestigious Parisian family. Her mother and father doted on her, catering to her every wish-but just as Hélène was about to make her societal debut, a fatal carriage accident altered her fate, leaving her penniless at just fifteen.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: CallaghanWriter
• Release date: Feb 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9781739753764

Kate Callaghan

Kate Callaghan released her debut YA dark fantasy trilogy, Crowned A Traitor: A Hellish Fairytale in 2020. While the Hellish Fairytale universe is being expanded, she is also writing adult romance and fantasy. She loves dark tales, villains and happily-ever-afters-something you will find in all of her books. Chatting with readers and getting to share many different stories is her favourite part of being an indie author. Currently she lives in Dublin. She loves dramas with subtitles (to silence the characters), coffee, and reading too many dark romances. If missing, please check your local coffee shop. You will find her with her computer and an iced beverage. Follow below if you want to know to learn more about future stories! Signed copies are also available on the author's website. Reader Group

Book preview

Chapter One

1732

HÉLÈNE SAT ALONE by the fireplace in the small salon off the main hall of the family mansion, trying to warm her blue-tipped fingers.

I don’t have much for the rest of the month, she worried, counting the few coins she had left. She tucked them back into her purse with a heavy sigh, hoping it would be enough for candles and bread, then stared at the dimming fire. Though she would trade all the years of wealth and splendour just to spend one more day with her parents, to hear her mother’s laugh, to dance on her father’s feet one more time, she knew she had to be practical: she was alive, and she needed to figure out a way to live. She hated to admit that in the dark recesses of her mind, she sometimes wished that her parents had died even just one year later. Not being out in society yet, she couldn’t even marry to save herself from destitution.

Louise, her governess-turned-servant thanks to their current circumstances, brought in a small tray of tea and a slice of bread with cheese. Hélène knew the role was beneath Louise, but she was happy to have her stay by her in any capacity.

I’m sorry, Mademoiselle Hélène, but I’ve stayed as long as I can, Louise began. Without the coin to pay me, I just can’t stay on. The house is shut up, and I’ve put together what supplies remain in the pantry, but I warn you to be careful with the winter coming.

Hélène glanced at the packed bag by the door. She wished she could keep Louise for longer, but she knew the day had been coming for a while. Louise was educated, with good hips for balancing children, and didn’t hold a grudge against those in higher society, which was a rare quality in her profession. She would easily be able to get another placement with a good family whose reputation and standing hadn’t been ruined by a tragedy. Selfishly, though, Hélène couldn’t help seeing it as a betrayal. She’d lost her parents; she didn’t want to lose her friend too.

There should be enough food for the month? she asked. She had been paying Louise in food for the last week, but she must be running low by now.

Should be. If you can wait it out until the new lord arrives, you should be fine, Louise said.

Hélène shook her head. She had a sinking feeling that her uncle wouldn’t be at all happy about taking her on as a ward. He hadn’t spoken to her parents in years—not since her father had ‘sullied’ the family by marrying an opera singer. Hélène didn’t think she, the product of such scandal, would receive a warm welcome when he finally took over the household.

I have written to my uncle, but my letters go unanswered. I fear he will turn me out, she confessed.

He wouldn’t. Such action would be frowned upon by dignified society. I’m sure he will do his duty and care for you like his own daughter, Louise tried to reassure her.

Hélène was too sad to be hopeful. Are you leaving tonight? You won’t even stay until the morning?

The snow has started to fall; I should get home to my family. Tomorrow I have to seek a new placement. I wish I could stay longer, but I have my own children to feed, Louise reminded her, tucking a dark curl behind her ear.

I know—you should go. I just wish I could pay you; it was selfish of me to keep you on for so long, Hélène said, hanging her head.

After the debt collectors had come, she had been left with barely anything. Even her mother’s jewellery had been sold to pay the kitchen staff—they had refused to leave until they were paid, and Hélène had been frightened they’d resort to ransacking the house.

You just look after yourself. I promise everything will work out, Louise said, sincerity in every word.

Hélène looked to the simple silver ring her father had given her on her last birthday to match the silver chain from her mother around her neck. She rose from her chaise and walked to Louise. As much as it pained her to separate from what little she had left of her parents, she had to give her something.

Please take this. It won’t fetch much, but it should help your family get through the winter, she said, removing the ring from her finger.

Louise embraced her charge; Hélène didn’t want to let her go. You have a good heart. Don’t let your circumstances take that from you, Louise said, closing Hélène’s fingers around the ring.

However, when her governess turned her back, Hélène slipped it into her dress pocket. It’s the least I can do to repay her loyalty. She tried to suppress her tears as she walked her last comfort to the door.

In the darkened foyer, she opened the heavy front door. The snow drifting in told her the winter was only going to get worse, and she’d have to burn more candles and wood to keep herself alive.

Louise turned and curtseyed for the last time. It was a pleasure working for you and your family. I wish you a happy future.

Hélène swallowed her tears. You, too. Thank you for staying with me. I know it wasn’t easy for you, but I don’t know how I would have got through it without you. Louise had helped her organise her parents’ funeral, held her as she mourned, talked her through how her parents had nothing to leave her, and warned her that her house was going to an uncle who despised her family.

Goodbye!

Hélène bowed her head. The rest of the household had been dismissed months ago, her friends were ignoring her letters, and now she watched her governess walk down the path to the small cart where her husband waited. Hélène had never felt so lost, so alone.

Not wanting to watch her friend go, she closed the door before she let any more heat out. She had already confined herself to the smallest room; the rest of the house was shut up but freezing, making it a struggle to heat even this room, where she and her mother had used to do their embroidery. The salon was close to the kitchen, and full of fond memories; it had seemed as good a place as any to settle.

Alone again. There is no one left, she thought, wrapping her thick shawl around her shoulders.

For comfort—to feel even an ounce of security—she settled into her mother’s favourite chaise-longue with the tiny meal that Louise had prepared. She broke off little pieces of bread, savouring each bite.

I should get some sleep. I have to look well when my uncle arrives… She would need to charm him. If I can convince him that I will find an advantageous match, he might let me stay. It would be difficult. After weeks of half-meals she no longer had the curves that had been so graceful, and her hair, once so dark and luscious, was dull and haphazardly plaited. She didn’t know if he would even consider her worth investing in.

That’s all a woman is worth in noble society. My beauty, my physique—it doesn’t matter that I’ve a sharp mind, or that I’ve read every book in my father’s pathetic library. All I need is the rosy cheeks and bright eyes I inherited from my mother to land a fortune.

Hélène wasn’t sure if she could call her eyes bright any longer. When she looked in the mirror, all she saw was a lost girl with too much despair in her expression. She couldn’t bring herself to sleep; the thought of the coming days festered in her mind. My uncle won’t be happy when he arrives to find I’ve sold off most of the furniture. The staff gone, and the pantry empty… She didn’t want to face the questions when he found the unpaid gambling bills and expenses for the gatherings they’d held in the months before their death in her father’s office.

She didn’t know where their money had gone, but then again, she wasn’t sure how her father had earned money in the first place. She had found a letter from her mother to a friend saying she was concerned about some investments Hélène’s father was making. Her father had clearly been keeping her mother in the dark, or there was no way they would have continued to live so lavishly—or at least she liked to think so. She stared into the red flames, her eyes finally growing heavy.

A loud knock startled her.

Guests? My uncle! He has come! Hélène smiled with hope, which was quickly replaced with trepidation. Smoothing down her wrinkled gown, she tucked the loose strands of hair into her plait and tried to stop herself from running to the front door. In this cold and dreary place, Hélène longed for some companionship, even if she had to face the wrath of her uncle.

Twisting the brass knob on one of the double doors, she tried to put her best face forward, only to frown. An elderly woman stood on the steps. She gazed over her plain grey dress with full skirts and powdered wig, trying to place her, but she couldn’t. She must owe the woman something; no one came to visit anymore unless it was to collect debts. Another to pick at my bones, she thought. She clenched her fists as anger surged within her, then released them.

I’ve nothing for you, she said with a defeated sigh, feeling the sting of where her nails had bit into her skin. She began to close the door, but the woman’s hand shot out.

You’d better! Your father has a debt to settle for all the fine dresses he ordered. I’ve given plenty of time, but I’m at the end of my tether, and my books have to be settled, the woman said, shaking her age-spotted fist at Hélène.

She realised the person she was trying to dismiss as a nobody was the seamstress. She only served the