The Beautiful Ones

by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

  Nina attempted to cross the street, but he caught her arm and pulled her back.

  “I play no games. Whatever Valérie said is a lie.”

  “I will not believe you this time,” she said, shoving him away with a push of her talent.

  He was not prepared for this, and it forced him to step back three paces. If their conversation had not been blistering, he might have congratulated her on the honing of her skills.

  Undeterred, he followed her, his voice growing more gruff. “You must, I speak the truth. Valérie came to see me two weeks ago, demanding that I stop speaking to you—and when I refused, she left in a rage. Whatever poison she has poured into your veins is born of spite.”

  She stopped and leaned against a tree, turning her head and looking at him.

  “She wants to set you against me. Don’t you see that?” he told her, and he despised the anxiety that made him sound like a dunce.

  “Why is she doing this?” Nina asked.

  She was uncertain and young. He’d never realized how young she was. He knew the number of her years plainly, but it was not that; it was the inherent naivety that came with youth. He realized she had not stood a chance in Valérie’s presence and chided himself for not having spoken to her sooner.

  “She wants you to marry Luc Lémy. She … sees me as an impediment toward that aim,” he said.

  “Luc.”

  Nina looked utterly frail, and he moved to her side, offering her his arm that she might steady herself. Her fingers tangled with his sleeve, and she had a breathless look, as if she’d been running.

  “She has nothing to gain from my marriage,” Nina protested.

  “I do not know why she is fixated on the idea, but I assure you it is what she wants. Nina—”

  “I was not lying when I said I had an important appointment. I must go,” Nina declared, her voice low; he had to lean down close to hear the words.

  His hand fell upon hers, and he clutched it tightly. “Nina, you mustn’t listen to her,” he insisted.

  “It’s a terribly important appointment.”

  “Nina.”

  She raised her head and stared at him. Her lips wavered, but only for a moment. She had a solemn look about her. “I have accepted Luc Lémy’s marriage proposal,” she said.

  It was odd. Hector felt little when she said this—perhaps he had already imagined this might be the case. He stood, expressionless, before her and wanted to tell her, Say no more, I understand.

  “He has bought an emerald ring for me, and there is to be a party at Gaetan’s home in two days’ time,” she said, and she was a lady, and she now addressed him with a sober voice. Not a girl, not at all. She’d found herself, found her place in Loisail. “I am supposed to go for the final fitting of my dress today. Now. My mother and sister are here from Oldhouse for the party.”

  He drew his hand back, his fingers sliding away from her own.

  He could picture it already: Luc Lémy in his finest clothes, looking triumphant as everyone raised a glass for a toast. Nina, demure and pretty in an evening gown, blushing as her fiancé placed a kiss on her cheek for all to see. And the ring, it would no doubt be ostentatious, a heavy stone that would allow Luc Lémy to congratulate himself, which would let the world know that she was his own.

  She who wanted beetles instead of rings, because Hector was convinced Luc Lémy knew nothing about Nina.

  “Congratulations are in order, then,” he said mildly.

  “Congratulations,” she repeated.

  He averted his eyes. “I am sorry I troubled you. You have an important appointment, as you’ve said.”

  “Yes, I need to go.”

  She did. He did not even watch her walk away. Hands in his pockets, he stared down at the tufts of grass growing by the tree.

  He’d wasted a morning on this silly business, and he had to make up for it; he decided he must head to the theater immediately. There were many matters to attend to. But when Hector slipped into a carriage, he felt so utterly exhausted, as if he’d performed two shows in a row, all the energy in his body drained, that he could do nothing but sit back and close his eyes.

  “Boniface,” he told the driver.

  When he got home, he peeled off his coat, his jacket, and tossed them on a chair.

  He had not had a proper breakfast in his haste. That was what was amiss. He thought to go to the kitchen and fetch himself food, but halfway there he stopped and it hit him, like a knife thrust in his back.

  It was despair. Despair he had not thought he could ever feel.

  He placed both hands on his long table and pressed down on the wood until it began to splinter under his fingers.

  He turned his head and caught sight of himself in a round mirror hanging on the wall, this beautiful gilded creation with a wreath of flowers serving as its frame. He gritted his teeth and made it shatter, pieces of glass tumbling to the floor because he could not abide his reflection.

  The man in the mirror was not him. It could not be him because that man looked like a fool, hunched over in pain, and years ago he had decided, in the quiet of a bare, cold room, that this could never, ever be him. That he was the great Hector Auvray, performer extraordinaire, and it was wonderful being that Hector Auvray who loved Valérie Véries because as long as he was that man, he was safe.

  There was certainty there.

  He raised his hands from the table.

  I am too old for this nonsense, he thought.

  This, this, whatever this was. He did not even dare to think the word.

  Chapter 19

  IT WAS THE SEASON OF Valérie’s delight. Like an industrious bee, she made preparations for Nina’s engagement party, which would be held at her house. This was supposed to be a joint mission between Valérie and Gaetan, but he naturally relegated these matters to his wife, and was happy to see the pleasure she derived from these activities. He ascribed the smile on Valérie’s face to her fondness for Antonina and did not suspect Valérie’s good cheer stemmed from a dark portion of her heart.

  The preparations were, to Valérie, like beautiful bricks upon a rising wall that would enclose Antonina. Flowers had been bought, invitations were distributed, the reporter and photographer from the leading newspaper in the city were summoned. Each detail that was taken care of assured the girl could not retreat.

  Valérie, astute as always, guessed that idle minds could wander into unwanted waters, and arranged to keep Antonina busy during this time, the precious few weeks it would take to seal her fate. There was first of all the matter of the selection and fitting of the engagement ring, which was followed by a quick, light toast at a restaurant, Gaetan and Valérie smiling kindly at the young couple from across the table. Then there was a dress that must be ordered and adjusted, the arrival of Nina’s mother and her sister from the countryside so that Nina and Luc were advised to meet them at the train station, the lunch between the parents of the groom and the mother of the bride, and a myriad of other items.

  Gaetan told the couple to begin considering the items they might want to place on their wedding registry, since the registry must be opened immediately after the engagement was announced. Country bumpkins might exhibit any gift that came in a week before the wedding in their parlor, but the elites had taken with gusto to the new custom of having all their purchases picked from one appropriate venue; nobody wanted to end up with an inferior silver epergne or gaudy porcelain for their friends to chuckle at. That meant not one, but two days perusing the department stores downtown. The result was that Nina was caught in a whirlwind of activity, and more often than not, Luc Lémy kept perpetual guard at her side. Only on the matter of the dress was he absent; it would not have been fitting for a man to accompany a lady while she had measuring tape wrapped around her bosom.

  Astute Valérie, engineering teas and distractions and business that must be handled forthwith. And the girl, she was dazzled as any young woman is dazzled, intoxicated with the attention and the praise.
/>   Luc pranced around like a peacock, and his natural charm augmented by the scent of victory. Never had the young man’s fair hair appeared fairer, never did his smile gleam more brightly, his clothes fitting him with an elegant sleekness that could make any lady blush.

  That afternoon, Gaetan had summoned Luc and Nina to reveal his engagement gifts: a diamond hair comb for the girl; a heavy, gold cigarette lighter for the boy. These presents were too expensive—decorum dictated any engagement gift must be plain—and might have instead been better suited for the wedding registry. But Gaetan’s generosity with his cousin was on display.

  This might ordinarily have irritated Valérie, who took each one of Gaetan’s gifts and attentions toward his family as an attack against herself, possessive creature that she was. But she did not mind this time. She imagined the diamond comb weighing the girl down, like an anchor, tying her to Luc.

  In this pleasant mood, Valérie was able to appreciate the adorable picture the both of them presented as they stood in the drawing room, cooing and holding the boxes bearing their gifts, showing them to Camille and Madelena, who made appreciative comments. Luc’s hand rested on the small of Nina’s back, and when she raised her head, his blue eyes monopolized her. Silly Nina smiled tremulously back at her husband-to-be, whispering a word to him.

  They set the boxes down on a table, and Gaetan gave Nina a hug, Luc a pat on the back. More smiles, more cooing, but as Valérie sat there, resting lazily against the sofa, she saw the box with the diamond head comb slide slightly to the left.

  Nina’s gaze had been lowered, and she was staring at her hands, pensive, with a mystifying stillness that irritated Valérie because it hinted at hidden depths, secrets, and more than that, when she used her talent, it reminded Valérie of Hector.

  Was she thinking of him?

  Valérie had thought of Hector before her own wedding when, instead of throwing away the ring he gave her as she’d promised herself, she had instead secreted it off, assuring it would remain with her for the rest of her life.

  Antonina’s eyes, did they look haunted? Did they look sad? Had Valérie ever glimpsed that same expression in her own mirror?

  She hated thinking she had anything in common with Antonina, but they both did share a past with Hector.

  Valérie mentally corrected herself—she shared a past with Hector. Antonina had experienced nothing except an illusion.

  Camille spoke to her daughter, and the girl smiled again.

  Valérie’s chin quivered, but she told herself not to indulge in paranoia. The engagement was imminent. A little more, a precious handful of days and Nina would be as good as married to Luc Lémy.

  It was her fate, her only path, as once it had been Valérie’s fate to marry Gaetan, that dull, sorry, and wealthy man her family had fawned upon. Valérie had marched forward like a soldier, dressed in white, clutching a bouquet in her hands. She’d said her vows and danced at her wedding party, and never once did she let the satisfied mask she wore slip. Nina would, must, do the same.

  Chapter 20

  THE MIRROR DID NOT ORDINARILY tell Nina she was beautiful. She knew herself—and most people reaffirmed this—passably pretty when she was at her best. Considerable effort, however, had been put toward her hair and dress that day.

  The couturier at first had been ready to throw a fit, saying a dress for such an occasion could not be finished in a short time frame, but the item had been delivered with a day to spare. Her evening gown was aquamarine chiffon with a printed floral pattern, embroidered with glass beads, a sash at her waist. It bared her shoulders, made her look airy, and had been strategically calculated to contrast with her emerald engagement ring. Ordinarily the ring would have been bestowed at the end of the party, but Luc wanted all of Loisail to see her wearing his gift and had insisted that she put it on the moment she went downstairs.

  She looked beautiful, then, with pearls in her ears—her mother’s gift—a diamond hair comb from Gaetan, and her emerald ring upon her finger. She was the princess in storybooks, the embodiment of every girlish fantasy she’d ever had.

  She felt, however, as if she were drowning, thrashing her legs in a futile attempt to remain afloat. She reproached herself for this—she had no business feeling like that when she should be laughing.

  The door to the room opened, and Madelena peeked her head inside. “Nina? The guests are starting to arrive. Luc needs you downstairs with him to receive them.”

  It was supposed to be a small party, but the guest list kept growing and it had been quickly decided—Gaetan and Valérie were doing the planning—it must be hosted at Gaetan’s home since they needed to accommodate Luc’s parents, his brothers and their wives, and a number of friends and associates whose names Nina did not recognize but who were deemed essential. A newspaper writer and a photographer from The Courier were even in attendance, to report on the event and take a picture of the groom- and bride-to-be. Gaetan had told her this gathering would be the golden brooch that would close the Grand Season.

  “The costume ball of the Sertis’ won’t have that honor this year,” her cousin opined, and though Nina had tried to tell them she would have preferred an intimate gathering, Luc sided with Gaetan and Valérie. A larger party it was.

  “How nice you look,” Madelena said, walking in and setting her hands on Nina’s shoulders. “Are you ready?”

  Nina had been ready for nearly half an hour. She had arrived early with her great-aunts and rushed upstairs to one of Gaetan’s guest rooms to change. The lady’s maid had helped her into her dress, fussed with her hair, and Nina had spent many minutes staring at her reflection.

  “One more minute.”

  “Luc will be beside himself when he sees you. And Mother is incredibly proud.”

  “I’m sure,” Nina muttered.

  Everyone was gushing with praise for Luc. He looked incredibly fine! His family was well connected!

  “Such a nice match,” her sister said.

  “Yes,” Nina replied, standing up. There could be no more dallying.

  When Nina entered the ballroom, Luc hurried to her side and took her arm, kissing her on the cheek. They stood like that together, smiling as the guests streamed in, costly flowers arranged behind them for best effect. She had difficulty placing names and faces, but Luc knew everyone and could recall a detail about each person. Nina had to extend her hand many times to show off her ring and intone its provenance. Duveras, naturally, Luc would say, and Nina smiled.

  Luc looked more than handsome, nearly perfect. He wore a black jacket and a blue watered-silk waistcoat, lavishly embroidered. He also wore a proud expression, his blond head raised high. And why shouldn’t he be proud? Nina could see flashes of admiration, even jealousy, in the attendees’ eyes, and for once the ladies and gentlemen whispering to each other were not pointing out something Nina had done wrong, but everything she’d done right.

  After the bulk of the guests had arrived, they set to walking around the room, milling with strangers. Nina wanted to dance. When she’d pictured this moment as a girl—and she’d pictured it often, the whirlwind romance, the engagement party with exquisite music and distinguished guests—she’d focused on the dance.

  “Not now,” Luc told her. “We must speak to a number of people.”

  “We have already spoken to a number of people as they arrived,” she replied.

  “Nina, no one dances at their engagement party.”

  Having learned most of the things she knew from books, she did not recall this detail. In her romances, in her imagination, there had been dancing.

  Nina stared at Luc, but he smiled and dragged her to talk to another couple, then another. Luc knew exactly what he wanted to say to each person and monopolized every conversation, steering it in the direction of his choice. She was left standing silently at his side.

  She had a panicked feeling, as if splinters were digging into the palms of her hands. She wanted to draw herself into a corner and take a deep breath,
but there was a terrible amount of activity, dozens of people smiling at her. She gripped Luc’s arm.

  She felt he was the only element keeping her afloat, and why, why was there such tightness in her chest?

  “Could we sit down for a moment? Perhaps go outside for a breath of fresh air?” she asked. “I do not feel too well.”

  “Darling, do you see that man over there?” Luc said. “That is Flavio Odem, and I am hoping he will help finance a crucial business venture of mine. We have to talk to him.”

  “Five minutes, Luc.”

  “Nina, we must take advantage of this opportunity. It is difficult to obtain a meeting with a number of people in this room.”

  “Luc, please.”

  He was looking in the direction of Odem and only threw her a quick, irritated glance.

  “He is heading toward the smoking room. Nina … fine, you go outside for a minute. I can’t take you into the smoking room with the men, anyway.”

  “Luc.”

  “Be a good girl,” he said, and now he granted her a sweet smile.

  He left with that. Nina somehow managed to slide out of the house. She took a deep breath.

  The full moon smiled above her, and Nina tipped her head up to look at it.

  How much better and quieter it was outside, the voices of the party muffled, the lights of the chandeliers not blinding her. She’d wanted this, had she not? She’d come to Loisail for this, and the city had been cruel, but now it had granted her the childhood dream she’d built from scraps of books. And soon they’d be away from the metropolis; Luc had promised her a long honeymoon, and they would settle in another city. This suited her well.

  Something buzzed against her cheek, and Nina turned her head and saw a nocturnal beetle flutter and land on her hand.

  It was a blue lightning bug, with luminous spots, a creature meant for warmer climates and summer days. How odd it should fly around Loisail! Then again, it had been a warm spring.