retelling of Snow White

by

Villains on WIP Wednesday

A candle either side of the ornate mirror on the study wall lit Richard’s face and upper body without relieving the gloom behind him. The black of his evening wear merged with the darkness, leaving the planes of his face and the folds of his white cravat to swim against the shadows.

“It cannot be him,” he told his reflection. “He’s dead. He died nearly two decades ago. A boy of that age? A soft spoiled brat like that? And a pretty one? He could never have survived.”

The dark eyes of the reflection stared back. He thought he saw an ironic twitch of the eyebrow.

“Curse Matt. He was meant to kill the little horror and throw the body somewhere it would be found.”

Richard scowled and the reflection scowled back. The plan should have succeeded. It had worked once. And with a body to grieve over, Madeline would have recovered. Richard could have charmed her into believing in him again. Instead, she insisted that the boy was still alive.

“She was meant to be mine.” He nodded his head once, decisively, and his reflection nodded back, agreeing with him. He had seen the pretty girl first, begun to court her. Then she met cursed Edward. The man with everything. His uncle’s favorite. The golden boy.

Tonight’s imposter looked just like Edward. “It cannot be the boy. He’s a by-blow; that must be it. Perfect Edward’s base born brat.”

How he would like to tell Madeline that Edward had been diddling someone else. His teeth flashed white in the candle light at the thought of her likely reaction. His own pain, though, was greater. He had won her for such a short time, and then lost her. She blamed him for the boy’s disappearance, and in the end, he had to put her away where she could do no harm.

It wasn’t fair. Matt Deffew had ruined everything. The boy had ruined everything by biting his abductor’s hand, wriggling from his grasp, and running away to die anonymously in the mean streets.

Matt was dead and could not pay for his mistake. The boy, too, was dead. He must be. And Madeline, to his everlasting sorrow. There was no one alive to punish.

The reflection raised an eyebrow. Of course. It was right. He must take his revenge on the imposter.

The passage is from Snowy and the Seven Doves.

by

Tea with Snowy White

An excerpt from my current work-in-progress.

On Monday, ten minutes before the appointed time, dressed in his finest, Snowy presented himself at the London home of the Duke and Duchess of Winshire. It took most of that time to be passed from the footman who opened the door to the butler who sent a message for yet another footman who conducted him up the opulent stairs and along elegant passages to Her Grace’s private sitting room.

“I do appreciate punctuality,” said the duchess. “Come in, my dear.” The room was like the lady herself, elegant and beautifully presented, but with a warmth about it that drew a person in.

Snowy took the chair she indicated, on the other side of a low table from the duchess herself. She busied herself with the tea makings and then dismissed all the servants, leaving the two of them alone.

“Being alone with a young man without facing untoward accusations is one of the benefits of advancing age and high social position, Lord Snowden,” she said. “They are fewer than you might think.” She handed him his cup of tea.

“Your Grace is a beautiful woman,” Snowy told her, ignoring the way she had addressed him. He had a feeling she used the title to unsettle him, and was determined not to show how well it was working.

“For an old lady.” The duchess’s eyes twinkled. “I have grandchildren, Snowden.You wince. If you plan to take the title, you had better get used to it.” With the precision of a needle, she added, “Do not think of it as your step-father’s name, my dear. Think of it as your father’s, God rest his soul.”

The woman read his mind like a witch. Or Lily. How his foster mother would laugh at being compared to a duchess!

“I will try, my lady.”

“Good. I knew your mother.” She took a sip of her own tea. “I owe you a debt, Snowden. When your mother disappeared from Society, I took your grandfather’s word that her mind was turned by your death and she was living retired while she recovered. I obeyed my husband’s command to stay out of your family’s private business. I should have insisted on visiting. Perhaps there is something I could have done.” She shook her head, sadly.

The duchess had previously been married to the Duke of Haverford, of whom Snowy had heard nothing good. “You could not have helped her, Your Grace.”

“I can help you, Snowden,” the duchess retorted. “What is it that you need?”

“I appreciate the thought, ma’am. I am not sure that anyone can give me what I really need.”

The duchess tipped her head to one side. “Tell me what that is, and we shall see.”

“Information, mostly. I believe we’ll find most of it. Lord Andrew has put me on to an enquiry agent. A man called Wakefield. He is apparently very good.”

“I can vouch for him,” her grace agreed. “He and his wife are connections of my family, and very good at their work. But tell me what information you are looking for, my dear. I have sources of my own.”

“I want the whole truth, Your Grace. I want to know if Snowden was behind my kidnapping. Whether it was attempted murder, as my mother and my foster mother believed. I want to know whether my father was murdered, what happened to my mother, everything about my past I should have grown up knowing. I will settle for evidence of two things. That the boy Aunt Lily found in that alley is the same boy that was stolen from a garden in Mayfair two days earlier. And that my mother’s second husband was responsible for my disappearance.”

“I see.” The duchess proved that she did see by adding, “The first will make it easier for you to claim the viscountcy. The second will allow you to seek justice.”

In truth, Snowy would settle for the first. He could leave seeking justice until Snowden tried to kill him again.