#19 Like Cinderella & The Slipper

When William left the great hall, he couldn't see Charlotte in any direction, but he did notice Elizabeth walking toward the private courtyard, and he knew that Charlotte must be there too.

When William found them, they were already talking. Elizabeth's voice sounded like their tutors. Only after getting closer did he understand the reason for her voice faltering. His younger sister had tears in her eyes and held something tight in her hand.

"Did somebody say something?" He asked. "And what's in your hand?" He added. He didn't know what to do when someone was crying, but maybe asking the reason would help.

William felt very bad as his innocent little sister couldn't talk properly. He was aware that she was afraid of loud voices, but to what extent, he didn't know. He didn't hear any loud voices in the hall, but it could be possible something had happened on her table, maybe some pranks or fight.

William didn't know about the party she was talking about, but her crying face couldn't let him think about anything else. He went closer and kneel near her, ignoring the dirt on his knees. She covered her face in her knees, but she was crying, and it affected him, almost like something hard had hit him.

He took his hand forward to touch her head but stopped midway and took it back. He didn't know what to do. As much as he could remember, it was the first time he had seen her crying like this, and he didn't know how t make her stop.

A picture fell down from her hands, and he picked it up to find confused Charlotte in a blue dress. She looked very pretty in the dress, like a little angel.

Finally, William decided to put his hand on her head, "Charlotte." He said slowly and carefully. He didn't know what to say next. he didn't think about this, but he should say something. "You didn't eat breakfast? No need to go inside again. I can bring you something here." He said.

He know it was inappropriate to eat anywhere but the dining table, but he had seen students eating in the courtyard. Maybe, Elizabeth also wouldn't mind this, one time.

Charlotte was upset and as her sister spoke, it didn't make her feel any better. What did it matter about manners? Her friends were kind enough, they were polite enough... Yes, they were loud and that scared her on more than one occasion, but they were all raised differently!

When she spoke about being above everyone else, Charlotte looked up from her knees...

"I do not want to be above them! I do not want to be above anyone!" She yelled, unable to contain herself. If it meant acting like her parents, who told her she was a bother to them. It didn't make her feel better, it just made the tears come down her cheeks.

When she spoke about her parents being busy, she reached into her bag and pulled out the folded letter from a morning prior.

"As your father and I have far too much going on right now to read about you children wasting time," Charlotte quote before she shoved it back into her bag and snatched the picture from her brother. It was the only good memory she had at the moment that she could remember. For the day she was a princess... She was loved and she had felt it, even if it was still a strange feeling.

They were a bother to their parents, it showed in the letter and they were easily forgotten.

"They could not even send a servant... I cried on the floor of the hall until someone put me in bed," She said as she wiped her nose with a napkin she had in her pocket. "This," she waved the card for a moment from Mr. Gilbert, "Is the only nice thing I got after spending the whole evening waiting on them, listening to the noises from down the hall." Charlotte put the card away.

She curled her arms around her legs, looking with red eyes to her brother.

"I am not hungry," she said in a tone of both anger and sadness.

Elizabeth recoiled from Charlotte at her outburst. All of this seemed so...odd to Elizabeth. Sure, their parents had high expectations for them, but that was what all parents wanted for their children: the best. So the Doren parents were a little different, but they weren't completely awful, and hearing Charlotte speak so negatively made Elizabeth even more uncertain how to continue.

She glanced at William, finding that he was also looking at her. Perhaps a little research into how to manage emotions better was in order. Elizabeth decided to do this the only way she knew how, which was by setting a positive example for Charlotte and keeping her own emotions under control instead of yelling, which was what she felt like doing.

Elizabeth's eyes flashed when Charlotte pulled out a letter and quoted from it. Elizabeth had sent and received her own somewhat disappointing letters. She folded her arms, considering it out of context. When Elizabeth thought about her parents letters to her, she was always able to make them make sense. "What was the letter about? Maybe Mother thinks that it's better to spend time studying than any other activity. Perhaps William or I could help you out with your studies?"

It was harsh, yes, but Charlotte would have to deal with the expectations put upon her not only by their parents but by Elizabeth and William's academic skills. Maybe this was a result of the pressure placed upon her.

"Mother and Father have always been very busy." Elizabeth said, though she wasn't quite sure with what. "But even though they are busy we are well taken care of. Some families here don't even have a single house-elf or servant. Perhaps they were about to bring you down, but when they saw you were asleep they carried you to bed instead?"

It was entirely uncharacteristic of Mother or Father to do such a thing, but Elizabeth was pulling at straws, as long as Charlotte stopped yelling and crying. She looked at William again, feeling inadequate in a way that made her distinctly uncomfortable.

"Just leave me alone... You do not care anyway..."

Charlotte's words stirred something in Elizabeth and William, from long ago. It was very fuzzy to William -- but much clearer to Elizabeth.

Charlotte was too young now to remember, but at the time she was perhaps 4 or 5. William was about 7 or 8, and Elizabeth 8 or 9. Neither could remember what Charlotte was trying to do or what happened prior, but William didn't like to see her cry. So he'd sat on the floor with her, instead of carrying his books back to his room as instructed by a tutor.

Their tutors were always sort of faceless figures, now they thought about it. Never really cared, beyond occasional reprimand. Never invested in them in any way, just there to do a job then leave. They didn't even have regulars, mostly just a cycle of strangers over the years.

But when William tried to help his little sister that day, Elizabeth had spotted them (getting her own books from a nearby library), and gotten curious enough to find out what was going on. Except they were even more strangers to each other then than they are now, so she'd lingered back. Their parents had caught them and demanded to know why they weren't in their allocated areas.

It was fuzzy, but they tried to piece together the memory. William was in a lot of trouble, told to leave his sister alone as it would just encourage bad behaviour. He shouldn't have left his books on the floor. His hair was an absolutely mess (Charlotte had ruffled it playfully). William was confused and upset. Elizabeth recalled there was some reason for it; their parents had an awful day or something about that week she was forgetting.

It wasn't a typical reaction for them to be angry, but not foreign either.

But she remembered something snapped that day -- a feeling inside her, which did not feel as new as she'd expected, had flared at the sight of her siblings. She'd tried to defend them, and said she would sort it all out. Her parents needn't worry; she'd get them to their rooms. When really, she was trying to save them from being in such trouble. Which got herself in trouble, of course. Setting a bad example.

And there it was. William felt bad, and tried to apologise, and the parents did not like his crying too. Elizabeth had turned to them, calm and collected, in perhaps one of her rare moments of defiance: 

"Please, just leave him alone,' she'd said, being very small under her parents' heavy disapproval. 'You do not care anyway, why they are upset."

She didn't know or understand it either, but no was trying to find out. 

It was all William could remember. But Elizabeth had been in a lot of trouble after that, punished more than usual. But she remembered her parents leaving that sitting room, and her watching William help pick Charlotte up and lead her by the hand back to her own area of the house. Elizabeth gathered the books he'd forgotten, brushed his hair for him, then made sure both were were they needed to be.

William hadn't said anything, but Charlotte was so young and still learning the ways of a Doren. She'd simply hugged Elizabeth, gave her a bright smile, and skipped off to her room. 

While Elizabeth did think flying was a waste of time, that was her own opinion. Quidditch was boring, and she had always assumed that Charlotte thought that way as well. She didn't know who Ezra was, and she probably shared something with her parents that she wanted to make sure it was someone that Charlotte was okay to befriend.

She listened to Charlotte whine about studying and about the party some more, still frustrated that Charlotte wouldn't stop crying no matter what it seemed like Elizabeth and William tried. She didn't know what else she could do, and she almost tuned out the words that Charlotte was saying because they were beginning to lose meaning. Almost.

Elizabeth's heart dropped as soon as Charlotte said those words. You do not care anyway. The memory that those words brought to Elizabeth's mind was perhaps the clearest memory out of all of the Doren children, mostly due to her age, but also due to the punishment she had received after. Perhaps that was what being a good older sister was supposed to be about. Supporting a sibling even when it made the parents mad.

To that end, she was silent while William spoke. She couldn't even find the proper words to address her mistake, or even the right space of mind to determine if she had made a mistake in the first place.