Cinderella Six Feet Under by Maia Chance

coachman,” Ophelia said.
    â€œSurely Henri would have noticed something,” Eglantine said sharply.
    â€œYes, Henri would have noticed,” Seraphina said in a small voice.
    â€œSeraphina!” Mrs. Smythe exclaimed. “Pray do not speak of the servants.”
    Seraphina took a sullen bite of bonbon.
    â€œI
must
insist that we discuss something more pleasant,” Eglantine said. “Mademoiselle Smythe—are you simply
dying
with envy over my ball gown?”
    â€œOh yes, quite. Dying,” Seraphina said, chewing. She nudged her enormous spectacles upwards.
    *   *   *
    â€œI traveled to Paris after reading an astonishing report in
The
Times
of a murder in Le Marais,” Gabriel said to Lady Cruthlach after interminable and antiquated pleasantries. “I wished to meet you, to learn what you know of the matter and, perhaps, to propose another . . . exchange.”
    â€œOh yes, Lord Harrington,” Lady Cruthlach said, treacle-sweet. “Our last trade was
most
beneficial.”
    For
her
, perhaps. The Tyrolean black wolf’s tooth they had given him, in exchange for a rare specimen of Siberian
Amanita muscaria
, had been a fraud.
    â€œHowever, I know not of the astonishing newspaper report to which you refer,” Lady Cruthlach said.
    â€œYou did not notice the report of the girl found murdered in the garden of a house in Le Marais?”
    â€œWe do not worry ourselves with the rush and stew of the present day. You know as well as we do that the
past
is everything and all.”
    Lady Cruthlach didn’t know about the house, then. Gabriel could continue to guard the secret. On the other hand, she might know something that he did not.
    Gabriel drew the Charles Perrault volume from his jacket. He slid out the loose sheet, and unfolded it.
    â€œWell?” Lady Cruthlach said. “What is this?”
    Lord Cruthlach wheezed softly.
    â€œMy notes,” Gabriel said. “A transcription, rather, of an excised passage from Perrault’s ‘Cendrillon.’” There was actually more than one passage, but he would begin with this one.
    â€œExcised passage?” Lady Cruthlach licked the corner of her mouth. “I knew not of such—such treasure. How did you come by this?”
    â€œI stumbled upon it a few years ago, quite by chance, whilst researching ‘The Sleeping Beauty’ in a rare first-edition housed in the Sorbonne.”
    â€œWell? Come now, don’t be a tease. Read it aloud. My eyesight is no longer good.”
    â€œThe excised passage was appended to the moral at the end of the tale. It denotes the address of the Cendrillon house—the house, that is, in which Cinderella dwelled with her father, stepmother, and stepsisters. The address was removed from subsequent editions of the volume, no doubt in order to protect the privacy of the Roque-Fabliau family.”
    â€œRoque-Fabliau? Of Hôtel Malbert? You must be mistaken. That pitiful little marquis, up to his fat chins in debt? His two daughters were thrust upon me at a lecture on Pliny the Elder not long ago. Ugly, grasping creatures. Surely
they
cannot be descendants of Cinderella.”
    â€œIf the manuscript is to be believed, then they are not descendants of Cinderella, but descendants of Cinderella’s father and stepmother.”
    Lord Cruthlach’s mouth opened and shut like a carp fish.
    â€œWhat is it that you know?” Gabriel asked.
    â€œKnow?” Lady Cruthlach smoothed the blanket on her knees. “We know nothing, my dear.”
    â€œPerhaps, then, it would be best if we forego any trades in the future.” Gabriel replaced the sheet of paper in the book and snapped it shut. He stood.
    â€œNo!” Lady Cruthlach cried. “Stay. I shall tell you. I shall tell you! You are the most diligent, the most resourceful and
adventurous
collector that we are acquainted with, Lord Harrington. I
would
so hate