“It’s no joke. How could I joke about this? I don’t think there’s anyone fairer than you.”
Perhaps she’d grown wiser or maybe it was the heat of the day that irritated her, but she was not enraptured by his words as he might have expected.
“Hush,” she said, rising quickly to her feet. “I am sure you meet many beautiful girls.”
Her heart, which had been placid, resting on dark velvet like the insects she collected, now began to beat wildly, though not for the young man next to her. Her thoughts, traitorous, flew toward another man, one who had never spoken words of flattery or love to her. And she was angered, thinking that he had not done it and now another would.
“What?” he asked, looking baffled.
“Exactly that. I’m naive, but not so naive that I cannot tell when a phrase has been said a thousand times before to others. Whatever game this is, I will not grow flustered and melt in your arms,” she told him.
It seemed to her that indeed it must be a game, a ridiculous prank that had been set in motion by them all, and she went toward the motorcar.
“Wait, wait,” he said, rushing to her side. “I do not know what you are going on about. I was trying to be charming, but I mean no harm. Come, now, don’t be angry at me.”
She crossed her arms upon her chest, staring down at the grass. Her ears were roaring as if she were standing by the seashore.
“Nina, are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m sick of people lying to me,” she blurted. “People keep lying to me, and if what you want is to toy with me for an hour or two, please pick someone else. I thought you might be a friend.”
“I am a friend. Please. I say silly things sometimes, but I don’t think it was that bad. I’ll tell you that you are the ugliest lady in Loisail from now on. Happy?” he asked, and his voice was cheery.
She looked at him. He was all sunny disposition and blue eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t be cross with you.”
“No, you are right, I am a bit of a lout at times. Maybe Hector told you a few stories, but I can be gallant,” he said.
At the mention of Hector’s name, she swallowed and shook her head. The sun had hidden its face, shrouded suddenly in clouds.
“I don’t think it was a child’s fancy, was it?” Luc asked gravely.
“I mistook politeness for affection,” she said. “I saw things that were not there, and do not wish to deceive myself again.”
He grabbed both her hands this time and he graciously bent his head over them, placing another kiss on the back of them and giving her an earnest look. “There’s something here, Miss Beaulieu.”
Flustered after all, she dipped her chin. A butterfly flitted by and perched itself on Luc Lémy’s head, white upon his dark cap. The sight made her smile.
“Don’t move, there’s a butterfly on your head.”
“Oh dear,” he said, and he did move. The butterfly flew away.
“It was a cabbage butterfly,” she told him. “It’s one of the first butterflies that emerge in the spring. They fly around during spring and summer, even into the fall until the hard freeze.”
“Ah, bugs,” Luc said, taking off the cap and running a hand through his hair. “No, can’t say I like them.”
“It’s not a bug, Mr. Lémy. It’s a butterfly.”
“It has tiny legs and crawls around,” he said, making motions with his fingers in imitation of a crawling insect.
“It does not.”
“I said you should call me Luc.”
Nina bit her lower lip before nodding. “I said you should call me Nina.”
“Come. Let us drive around a bit more,” he told her, and it was as if he could will clouds to be gone, the sun to shine again.
They walked back to the motorcar arm in arm, and when the time came to bid him good-bye, he said he’d return the next week with a carriage this time and they might go to Koster’s for tea.
When she went inside, she saw a box resting atop a doily on a table by the entrance. Another package had arrived with the crisp white card and the name HECTOR AUVRAY emblazoned on its front. The fury that had assaulted her earlier returned and she rushed up to her room, jamming the box in the desk and locking it. She flung the key away and it slid under the bed.
She sat on the floor, in front of the bed, and stared at the desk, eyebrows furrowed. After a while she sighed and turned the lock with a twist of her wrist, using her talent, not even bothering to search for the key. The drawer slid open and she reached inside.
Nina opened the box that had arrived that day and gazed at the beetle inside. It was beautiful.
Had he recalled what she’d told him once, that she’d rather have beetles than a new necklace? Why should it matter? Each box came only with the damnable card and nothing else. It was like trying to read auguries in the dregs of coffee.
She had meant what she’d told Luc, that she could not afford to see things that were not there anymore. And here, with Hector, there lay nothing.
Nina watched the light fall upon the beetle; its blue body was iridescent, changing color depending on the angle.
Chapter 4
VALÉRIE BEAULIEU’S ROSES WERE BLOOMING well that year and she spent hours sitting behind glass walls, in the company of her flowers. Once in a while, however, the memory of Hector would suddenly come back to her. She would recall how he had stood in the library and how dark his eyes had looked when he leaned down to kiss her. It was as if a phantom fraction of him had followed her and lingered in this space, haunting her when he had the opportunity.
On the days when this occurred, Valérie would bark orders to the servants, demanding that all the linens be washed and pressed, the silver polished, every corner of the house dusted as if she could exorcise him with these gestures.
Then she returned to her daily calls, her walks in the park, the management of the house, and the tending of the flowers.
The afternoon Luc Lémy stopped by was one of those calm days after the storm. The young man had not sent word that he wanted to be received, but Valérie allowed him to meet with her, feeling magnanimous.
They sat in the drawing room, Valérie in a mauve silk reception gown with golden buttons running up the front, ribbon edges at the neckline, and ivory lace bordering her wrists.
“You are radiant as always, Mrs. Beaulieu,” Luc Lémy said, bowing low, pearl gray gloves in hand.
“How kind of you to say so. Please sit,” she said.
He did and smiled at her. “I hope you’ll forgive me for dropping in unexpectedly,” but his tone indicated he was not sorry at all, the young man was self-centered, spoiled. “However, I believe you will find the visit pleasant. I’ve come to talk business with you, and I’m sure you’ll be interested in my words.”
“Then you must be mistaken and want to speak with my husband.”
“No. Not today, at least. The business concerns an estate of yours.” Luc Lémy took out a silver cigarette case and lit a tiny cigarette. He held it between his fingers but did not smoke it, as if he were merely toying with it.
“I have no estates.”
“Avelo Keep in Treviste. From what I understand, the king granted it to the Véries five hundred years ago.”
“Six hundred,” Valérie said, correcting him. “Not that I can imagine why it would interest you.”
Avelo had once been an important fortification, defending the Northeast from incursions, but that was centuries before. The Unification Act had brought a peace that did not necessitate Avelo. The lands there were infertile, yielding no prizes. This, coupled with the slow descent of the Véries, had left the place a ruin that they did not maintain and seldom remembered.
“I realize it is not much to look at. But it does have a wonderful view of the sea. If I remember correctly, when the king granted your family that keep and surrounding lands, he specified it could never be sold.”
Had they been able to sell it, they would have, inste
ad of having to dispose of crockery and silks. Luc Lémy must know that and also the extent of the financial limitations of the Véries. Valérie’s marriage to Gaetan had saved the family from absolute ruin but had not restored it to its former glory, and their coffers were woefully low.
“What do you have in mind, Mr. Lémy? Best be quick about it since I do not have all day,” she said, her generosity rapidly dissipating.
He had the smug smile of a boy who has performed a naughty prank. “Forgive me, Mrs. Beaulieu, I do not mean to steal all the minutes in the hour from you. What I have in mind is business, as I said. Business that will enrich us both. The stones of Avelo are worth nothing, but the land, that land is valuable. Do you know that outside Ygress they are building a hotel? The Panorama, it is to be called.”
“What of it?”
“Avelo has a better view of the sea. The railway line is being extended three towns north, connecting with Apluri. If the Véries lease that land to me, Mrs. Beaulieu, they will profit handsomely. I will build a hotel, dazzling in its luxury. I can promise your family an annual fee and a bonus in exchange for the use of the land, secured in a long-term lease of a hundred years.”
“A hotel? At Avelo? Who would go there?”
“Anyone who seeks a superb time. Hotels are mushrooming up the whole region. Everyone wishes to gamble, drink, and be merry.”
Valérie frowned. It was not a terrible idea. The only thing Avelo could boast of were its blue waters, but if a blasted town like Ygress could inspire an upscale hotel … no, it was not a terrible idea.
“What do you know of hotels, Mr. Lémy?” she asked. “Your family makes school uniforms, doesn’t it?”
He frowned as if remembering an unpleasant detail and waved his hand. “By the hundreds. But a boy must find his own way in the world. My eldest brother controls our business, the second-eldest is his right hand, and once it comes to me … I think Father is leaving me a button-making enterprise, acutely small.”
“And what, you expect to sell your buttons so you can finance this hotel? I don’t imagine you can build it on dreams and sand. Will your father back the venture?”
“There are two or three parties who might be interested in joining me. I expect my father might contribute to it, too, when he sees I have grown serious and mature.”
Valérie stared at Luc Lémy. She did not know exactly how old he was. Perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five, but with his mustache and the look of a careless, fair-haired dandy who spent the evening drinking cocktails at Saserei’s, he did not inspire any vision of maturity whatsoever.
“It might take you some time to manage this,” she said dryly.
“Not nearly that long. I want to marry, which should help prove my mettle, and begin preparations for the construction of the hotel, before a year has passed. And here again is where I think we might assist each other. I want to marry Nina.”
Antonina. Back in the city, with her great-aunts, and somehow she’d attracted the eye of this hungry fox, innocent lamb that she was.
“I see where you expect to get the bulk of your financing from, Mr. Lémy.”
Luc, perhaps not used to direct talk, almost dropped his cigarette, but Valérie did not feel like being coy in that moment and she relished the startled look on his face.
“Don’t look alarmed. You’ve done your research. I imagine you have an idea the amount of money her father left her? Not only the land, but the trust as well. And my husband would surely contribute to your bank account generously. Why, you might build yourself two hotels!”
“Mrs. Beaulieu,” he began, but Valérie silenced him, raising her hand and shaking her head.
“I won’t chastise you for having a solid head upon your shoulders, and the venture does interest me. However, my husband will no doubt notice you are a fifth son with little to offer to his bride.”
“Last summer Nina was being courted by Hector Auvray,” the boy said, sounding mildly offended. “He is a pleasant enough fellow, but he also spins mirrors in the air for a living.”
“His account is worth more than the contents of a modest button-making business. Gaetan would not have invited him into our home if that were not the case.”
Luc opened his mouth and exhaled loudly. He was sitting forward, an arm resting against his leg, the cigarette dangling from his fingers. His shoes shone brightly and he wore a nicely tailored blue suit, but Valérie could spot a man without a fortune of his own with practiced ease. She had been the same as he, concealing behind her beautiful smile the slim chances she possessed.
Luc had more opportunities than she’d had. What she would not have given for a silly business that sold buttons, or the generosity of older siblings. Yet there could be no denying Nina would enter this marriage with greater coffers than her husband.
It was not, however, an inelegant proposition. The lease of the land might liberate the Véries of the mendicant yoke they lived under, having to take whatever crumbs Gaetan threw to them. And if the venture went well, Luc would rise in esteem and position, and Nina with him.
“I admit you have a good name, though,” Valérie said, smiling. “Your family is well liked.”
At that Luc raised his head and straightened up a fraction.
“Good breeding, good manners, they are important. You move in the right circles and I wager you move competently. And you are clever, Mr. Lémy.”
“Thank you.”
“You dress sharply, and I am sure you could catch the eye of a young lady.”
Now that his triumph was near, Luc allowed himself to smile back. But a triumph was not what Valérie was intending. She spoke sweetly, but her words were serious.
“A lease and a bonus are welcome, Mr. Lémy, but I would insist on an initial … shall we call it ‘deposit’?” she said, savoring the surprised look on his face. “A sum showing your goodwill. Your hotel could sink into the sea, and my family would not see a cent. Don’t worry. The payment can wait until you have wed and secured Nina’s dowry. In exchange for a promise of your generosity, I believe I could breathe a positive word about you into my husband’s ear. Your shortcomings need not be shortcomings at all.”
This was what he had expected to hear, but not put in this way. He did not hesitate and nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you, Mrs. Beaulieu,” Luc said. “You must not imagine that I care only for Nina’s fortune, though. I intend to be a proper husband to her.”
Valérie thought she knew exactly what Luc Lémy meant by “a proper husband.” He’d give Nina half a dozen brats to tend to, kiss her gently on the cheek, and keep only discreet mistresses, ensuring that his affairs were not publicized. Nina, in her idiocy, would likely mistake all this for happiness.
Valérie smiled indulgently at the young man. “I know you will be. Tell me, since we are being candid, does Nina welcome your attention?”
“I’ve spent time with her and I believe she likes me.”
“You should spend more time with her, then, until you know she likes you enough to be married to you. Gaetan is reluctant on the matter of arranged marriages. He’ll ask for her opinion, and mine, and you do not want a lukewarm response from that child.”
It was one of the most irritating bits of Antonina, the knowledge that her cousin would not force her into a marriage, like a parcel to be sold at the market. Valérie had been given no choice, but Antonina was allowed to have her heart’s desire.
“I will definitely woo her. I wouldn’t think not to. She is pretty and animated; it is the matter of Hector Auvray. I think she had her heart set on him,” he said.
Hector Auvray. That was long past, though. Wasn’t it? Surely she would have forgotten about him, and he had no doubt gone his own merry way.
She surveyed Luc Lémy critically. With his youth and light hair, and that air of sophisticated ease he had, could a girl of twenty ignore him? No, she wouldn’t. She would notice him. She would beam at him. Give him a week, perhaps two, she’d be devoted to him.
Yet the
sharp edge of dread stabbed at Valérie’s heart as she recalled Nina’s letter and the emotion poured upon the paper.
“Young man, listen to me carefully,” Valérie said. “If you truly want Antonina, then you must erase any traces of that man from her mind. This Grand Season is an opportunity for us both, but you must do your part.”
Valérie pressed a hand against her gown, feeling the golden buttons underneath her palm.
Chapter 5
HECTOR WORKED ON THE WEEKENDS, doing two shows every night. Thursdays he also performed, but only once in the evening. Mondays and Tuesdays he rested, staying away from the theater. He began his day with a cup of coffee and a piece of toast for breakfast, reading a book by the window.
Around lunchtime he headed to the outdoor market that stretched behind the former convent of Saint Ilse. There he purchased vegetables and fruits, meats and fish, and all manner of other foods. He paused at the bakery on the way back home for a fresh loaf of bread and bought a newspaper at the newsstand. Then he proceeded to cook himself lunch. Hector learned how to make his own meals out of necessity, when he had been penniless and young, but he had grown to enjoy the process and though he did not reject the notion of restaurants, he preferred home-cooked meals when he could manage them. He also took pride in his self-sufficiency.
When he was done eating, Hector read the paper, then went out for a stroll. He liked Boniface because of its narrow streets and alleys that led nowhere. It was easy to get lost there, and every block offered a strange new treasure. There was a store that sold only music boxes next to a perfumer’s shop, but take one turn, and you’d come to an oddly quiet alley that ended in a cemetery. There were sedate, hidden gardens and boisterous establishments. Places for contemplation and spaces for noise and life.
In the evenings, Hector stopped at a coffee shop and regularly patronized the Pearl and the Swine, where all manner of musicians performed. On occasion he visited one of the playhouses at the Green District.
That day the sun shone brightly. Hector thought he might depart for his walk earlier than usual, so he could take advantage of the wonderful weather. He sat by the window in his leather chair, about ready to put away his book and prepare himself, when a knock made him raise his head.
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