Eve watched wordlessly as Raoul's coffin was placed into the Tremaine crypt and the final funeral rites were completed. Cinderella sobbed into a maid's arm while Drizella and Anastasia held each other for support. A circle cleared around Eve as the mourners departed, until she was left facing the crypt alone. She stood for some time, unspeaking, staring at the crypt gates with a fixed, sombre expression. Drizella walked up to her and touched her arm softly.

"Mother? Can we go home now?"

"Yes Drizella. The servants will take you and your sister home. I am going to remain here a little while longer."

"Of course madam – shall we send the driver back for you later?" asked the maid.

"I'll walk."

"Do you wish us to take Cinderella home as well madam?" Eve turned and looked at the young girl still sobbing into the maid's arm with obvious dislike.

"Yes of course. Now go." Eve faced the crypt again as the remnants of her household left her behind.

After a while, Eve wandered up to the cold stone of the crypt and lay her hand on the solid door. There was no-one else in the churchyard and the sun was beginning to set, the warm evening turning chilly as it did so. Eve rested her head against the stone and tried not to remember her life with Raoul. She remembered Pierre and their life together and how the father of her children had been stolen from her. In her mind, she played through the funeral again, watching Pierre's coffin as it left her sight forever to enter his family's crypt. Part of her had died that day. She remembered the dance and how Raoul had given her hope of regaining some happiness in life. She saw them dancing again, felt their first kiss and remembered how he'd found her at the small cottage. Their wedding day had past quickly, with the few wonderful months before her pregnancy fading now in the memory of her miscarriage. And now she was standing outside another crypt having lost another husband with no hope of rescue this time. She thumped the wall of the crypt hard. As the pain coursed up from her hand, she thumped the wall again and again, building up a rhythm as the tension of the previous days released in painful sobs. Drumming her hands against the stone wall, Eve shrieked with grief as she collapsed to her knees, screaming for reality to change back to what it should be. As dusk gave way to night, her sobs subsided and she left the graveyard.

Drizella and Anastasia were playing in the hall when Eve arrived home. They ran to their mother and threw their arms around her. Eve hugged them both hard as a final embrace, then pushed them back and straightened her dress. She nodded approvingly when they straightened their postures and changed their gleeful, smiling faces to more demure expressions. Eve looked down at her two daughters – above all, she would have to ensure they married well – and young.

"Girls, go to bed. Send your stepsister to talk with me in the library in an hour." She remained unnaturally calm as she carried out the plan she'd worked out on the way home. She signalled to a servant, who came scurrying to her side.

"Yes madam?"

"Summon the other servants and have them assemble in the kitchen immediately. I need to speak with you all."

Down in the kitchen, the last of the servants crept in and huddled with the others. Eve waited for silence, then spoke softly.

"I am sure you all mourn the passing of Lord Tremaine as much as I, but we must now turn our attention to those still living in the chateau. Lord Tremaine sold much of his estate to his brother, leaving us with only a modest income and this house. I am afraid I must ask you all to leave in the morning – for the sake of the girls. I am so sorry." It was a lie and Eve knew it – she had enough money to live comfortably for some time with the income the estate would bring her. However she was determined that her daughters would receive only the best and to do that, she was prepared to bankrupt herself to make the perfect life and eventually a perfect match for each of her daughters. The servants looked shocked, but sympathetic. Some tried to offer comfort to Eve, but she could not accept it and turned coldly away to return upstairs. The servants were an unnecessary comfort when she had a perfect replacement in mind.

Cinderella stood when her stepmother entered the library.

"Stepmother?"

"Sit down Cinderella. As you are aware, your father has left the house to you."

"Yes, stepmother."

"But as your legal guardian I must hold the house in trust for you until you come of age. Unfortunately for you, that is going to mean some changes around here. Firstly, we cannot afford the servants or your tutor any longer."

"But father said I must learn Latin if I am to impress at court," said Cinderella cried desperately.

"Please don't forget it was because of you that your father fell that day," replied Eve harshly. She stopped the feeling of guilt before it made her apologise – Raoul would have disapproved of her hurting Cinderella. As expected, Cinderella became more compliant immediately.

"Yes stepmother. I'm sorry stepmother."

"Your father would not have wanted us to fight Cinderella."

"Of course not stepmother."

"And he would not have wanted this house to fall to rack and ruin now would he?"

"No stepmother."

"Then it is agreed – you will share the responsibility of the upkeep of the chateau with myself and your stepsisters. In the morning, I want you to prepare breakfast for your stepsisters."

"What about you?"

"I will already be awake, making sure the servants leave."

"What time should I make breakfast?"

"Seven."

The next morning, Eve watched as the last of the servants walked down the road from the chateau. Satisfied that the chateau was now completely under her control, Eve walked down to the kitchen and smiled as she saw Cinderella industriously making breakfast for her two stepsisters.

"Very good Cinderella."

"Thank-you, stepmother."

"After you take up the trays, perhaps you could set about dusting in the music room?"

"Yes stepmother." Cinderella picked up the breakfast trays and staggered up the stairs without any of the grace that would come naturally in later life. Eve felt a brief twinge of guilt – if her plan worked, the girl would accept her role as servant and within a few years would forget her father's plans to have her wed to a duke at court. The guilt became easier to live with over the next few weeks and months as Eve concentrated solely on the advancement of her own two, selfish daughters who she spoiled with dresses and jewellery.

Years later, on the night of Cinderella's seventeenth birthday, Eve was sorting through some old papers when she came across an old music sheet. She placed it on the piano and sat down to play. The familiar notes of "Sing, Sweet Nightingale" echoed around the still house as Eve played. Unbidden, memories of a night long ago when Raoul, Eve and the three girls had gathered around the piano came flooding back. Eve played through the song twice more, closing her eyes and basking in the memory of Raoul and his gentleness. As she closed the piano lid, she turned to see Cinderella dressed in a ragged skirt and top watching her, a broom held in her hand.

"Yes Cinderella?" asked Eve quietly.

"I have finished the library. Will there be anything else?"

"No Cinderella. Oh yes, make sure the locks are all secure then you may go to bed." She had moved the girl into the attic tower a year earlier, moving the remainder of Raoul's keepsakes into the tower out of the way.

"Is there nothing else stepmother?" asked Cinderella, a pleading look in her eyes. Eve glared back harshly.

"No. If I think of something, I will call you."

"Yes, stepmother. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Cinderella." Eve watched Cinderella leave the room and felt resentful that the girl had implied she wanted to talk about Raoul. Or perhaps she had wanted some semblance of a mother-daughter relationship with her stepmother. Or maybe there was some other reason she'd expected more from Eve this night. No matter, the girl was content to be a servant and a servant she would stay. Eve made a mental note to teach the song she had found to her two daughters and left the music room. She would start the music lesson in the morning, while Cinderella cleaned the hallway. In the quiet music room, a passing breeze fluttered the pages of the "Nightingale" manuscript. The fire flared and for a moment the house remembered the love and affection of the past. The memory faded with the light, and silence descended once more on Chateau Tremaine.