“My dress isn’t too wrinkled, is it?” I asked anxiously, and felt the butterflies settle down a little when it was Celeste who answered.
“You look just fine.”
“The young ladies’ presence is requested in the parlor,” our housekeeper, Marie Louise, announced from the bedroom door. Marie Louise’s back is always as straight as a ruler, and her skirts are impeccably starched. She cast a critical eye over the three of us, then gave a satisfied nod.
“What does Monsieur LeGrand look like, Marie Louise?” I asked. “Did you see him? Tell us!”
Marie Louise gave a sniff to show she disapproved of such questions, though her eyes were not unkind.
“Of course I saw him,” she answered, “for who was it who answered the door? But I don’t have time to stand around gossiping any more than you have time to stand around and listen. Get along with you, now. Your parents and Monsieur LeGrand are waiting for you in the parlor.”
With a rustle of skirts, she left.
My sisters and I looked at one another for a moment, as if catching our collective breath.
“Come on,” Celeste said. And, just like that, she was off. April followed hard on her heels.
“Celeste,” I begged, my feet screaming in agony as I tried to keep up. “Don’t go so fast. Slow down.”
But I was talking to the open air, for my sisters were already gone. By the time I made it to the bedroom door, they were at the top of the stairs. And by the time I made it to the top of the stairs, they were at the bottom. Celeste streaked across the entryway, then paused before the parlor door, just long enough to give her curls a brisk shake and clasp her hands in front of her as was proper. Then, without a backward glance, she marched straight into the parlor with April trailing along behind her.
Slowly, I descended the stairs, then came to a miserable stop in the downstairs hall.
Should I go forward, I wondered, or should I stay right where I am?
No matter who got taken to task over our entry later—and someone most certainly would be—there could be no denying that I was the one who would look bad at present. I was the one who was late. I’d probably already embarrassed my parents and insulted our honored guest. Perhaps I should simply slink away, back to my room, I thought. I could claim I’d suddenly become ill between the top of the stairs and the bottom, that it was in everyone’s best interest that I hadn’t made an appearance, particularly Monsieur LeGrand’s.
And perhaps I could flap my arms and fly to the moon.
That’s when I heard the voices drifting out of the parlor.
There was Maman’s, high and piping like a flute. Papa’s with its quiet ebb and flow that always reminds me of the sea. Celeste and April I could not hear at all, of course. They were children and would not speak unless spoken to first. And then I heard a voice like the great rumble of distant thunder say:
“But where is la petite Belle?”
And, just as real thunder will sometimes inspire my feet to carry me from my own room into my parents’, so too the sound of what could be no other than Monsieur LeGrand’s voice carried me through the parlor door and into the room beyond. As if to make up for how slowly my feet had moved before, I overshot my usual place in line. Instead of ending up at the end of the row, next to April, I came to a halt between my two sisters. April was to my left and Celeste to my right. We were out of order for the first and only time in our lives.
I faltered, appalled. For I was more than simply out of place, I was also directly in front of Monsieur LeGrand.
About the Author
CAMERON DOKEY is the author of nearly thirty young adult novels. Her most recent titles in the Once upon a Time series include Wild Orchid, Belle, Sunlight and Shadow, and Before Midnight. Her other Simon & Schuster endeavors include a book in the Simon Pulse Romantic Comedies line, How NOT to Spend Your Senior Year. Cameron lives in Seattle, Washington.
Once Upon A Time (8) Winter’s Child Page 14