by Jackie Ivie
“It is time for your prayers, Giselle.”
Isabelle stood beside the bed-platform with Giselle’s rosary in her hand. That was when the cloud over Giselle’s thoughts evaporated, and everything came into perfect focus.
The candle was too bright as she knelt. Navarre was her brother-in-law. He had embraced her, which was a grave sin, but she was no less guilty, because she had enjoyed it. She had wanted more. Of course, it was normal to be attracted to the first handsome man she met, but that wasn’t absolution. She had a duty to her husband.
Navarre was so handsome, though. Just the recollection made her fingers slip on the beads. It was wrong to feel this way. Wicked.
And yet, so wonderful.
Eventually, she finished, and dismissed Isabelle. And then Giselle climbed into the immense bed, covered herself to her chin, and stared with unseeing eyes at the rest of the room. Everything beyond the bed’s pedestal was dark and menacing if she thought about it.
She didn’t. She kept thinking of Navarre.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The connecting door was open again. Giselle lifted her head from the pillows to look. It wasn’t very comforting to think of Etienne coming into her room at night while she slept, to look at her, but he had that right. And more.
She pushed away from the headboard and slid off the mattress. This time she remembered to put on her dressing gown. If Etienne had the right to look at her, she had the same right to see him. She went through the connecting door without thinking of the repercussions. At least he’d bathed. Perhaps he wouldn’t be as offensive.
“Have you come to stare?”
He glared at her from the balcony and she considered running back to her room. But then she lifted her chin. She’d been a coward long enough. It wasn’t helping the situation, and there was no reason for it. He was a self-pitying, self-destructive invalid, nothing more. She told herself she could handle him.
He sat in a strange looking contraption. Giselle’s gaze flicked over it for a bit, before returning to his face. He didn’t look pleased to see her, but he had bathed and shaved, and he had his hair pulled back in a queue. He wasn’t as frightening-looking as before, but he wasn’t assaulting her senses like Navarre did, either. He was eye-catching, though, even with a scowl on the full lips that so closely matched those of his younger brother.
Perhaps his rudeness was a defense against the world. She hadn’t looked at it that way before, and she was slightly ashamed at herself. It wasn’t her fault, for she’d never been around a handicapped person before, but she should’ve given him a little compassion.
“It seems fair to me,” she finally answered. She gestured to the door behind her as she stepped toward him.
“I only wanted to see what price I have paid for that valley of yours.”
He turned away and looked out at Savignen. Navarre had been more than right. The trees were tipped pink with dawn at the edges. Giselle held her breath and watched as the color fanned out. It was beautiful and stretched as far as she could see, stopping only when she glimpsed the river.
“Well…that is what I came to do, too,” she replied.
She thought she was prepared for the look he gave her, but she forgot his eyes. They were bluer than the sky and twice as cold. Giselle tried to feel a tingle, a stirring of anticipation, a murmur in her heart, anything. He was fairly handsome. His hair wasn’t as blond as Esmee’s after all, nor was it as dark as Navarre’s.
Navarre!
Giselle’s heart cried the name, and she stifled the instant ache. It was her own stupidity that brought his image instantly to her mind. She was a fool, and her dreams had been just that. Navarre wasn’t her husband, the man before her was.
“I suppose you’ve been asked to bear my son.”
Giselle stiffened at his words. How can he ask it so easily? She fought the reaction, but knew she was blushing. As closely as he watched her, it would have been impossible to disguise.
“Well?” He sneered after the word.
She nodded.
“You’ll have to do the work then. I am incapable of that sort of movement.”
Giselle lost her color at his bluntness. She felt it. Oh! He was worse than horrid, he was uncouth and bestial. She must have made some sound, because he looked her over even more critically.
“You’re different from what we expected, Giselle. You’re smaller, and not near as monstrous as I was led to believe.”
“Monstrous?” She choked the word out.
“Well, you hadn’t been seen in years. Who knew why? I told myself you couldn’t be as bad as I imagined, but the imagination runs amok without reins. Navarre was right. You’re lovelier than anyone expected. Who knows? Perhaps we’ll be successful in trying for a son after all. I look forward to it.”
Giselle’s jaw dropped, and she couldn’t close it. His eyes roved her form as if— She couldn’t finish the thought. She ran to her room with the sound of his laughter following at her heels.
~
“Why is it you still cling to these hours, Giselle?” Louisa asked. “I wait for you to ring for Isabelle and myself, and you don’t. Then, when I come to find out why, you’ve been up for hours. Don’t you realize what this is doing to you? You’re too weak, and you can’t sleep through every luncheon….”
“Etienne came into my room again.”
The words stopped Louisa’s tirade. Giselle watched her suck in breath as if she needed more power behind her speech, but she said nothing. Giselle looked away. Louisa could wipe that speculative look from her face. Giselle wasn’t partial to Etienne, and she wasn’t likely to be, either.
“Well…this is excellent news, Giselle. It’s just what this overbearing household needs, too. Since I’m too old to continue as your governess, a child would be a godsend.”
She thought Giselle was up and gazing out her window because of…that? Ugh. Have a child with Etienne? She would rather die! And she wasn’t weak! Giselle had paced furiously about the chamber for hours! That wasn’t weak. That was a reaction to more imprisonment. The castle was consuming her. Closing in. And there was nothing she could do about any of it!
It wasn’t fair! Her future had already been written, regardless of how she felt about any of it. She was expected to cleave unto the monster in the room next door, close her eyes on any emotion, and allow him to— She stopped the thought and squelched a retching motion. He’d said she’d have to do the movements! She didn’t even know what that meant. And she refused to do such a thing with him! Jean-Claude could just become the next Duc du Berchald, and the family would just have to survive how depraved, debauched, or wicked he was! Giselle wasn’t going to help them.
“I need a companion, Louisa,” she said. “That’s what you are and have always been. You know that.”
“Giselle.”
Louisa clucked her tongue in the reprimanding fashion she had. Giselle wasn’t going to allow that. Louisa didn’t know Etienne. She didn’t know one thing about it.
“Assist me to the chapel, Louisa. I feel the need for peace, and I’m not getting any here.”
“You need to live more and pray less, Giselle, and you know it.” Louisa put her hands on her hips. “You’re the duchesse! You can have anything you want, yet all you want to do is cover yourself in sack-cloth and pray like the self-pitying waif the arrogant Comte d’Antillion created. Well, I refuse to stand by and watch! Come, eat this delicious breakfast, and decide your wardrobe for the day. Madame Esmee looks forward to continuing with you from yesterday. That woman can help you more than you can possibly imagine. You mustn’t keep her waiting.”
“Don’t you listen? I don’t want to tour the castle! I don’t want any help with running it! I want to seek solace in prayer. Is that too much to ask from my companion?”
“You know the answer to that already. You can’t change your destiny, Giselle. You can only bend it to fill your needs. How many times must we go over this? You’re married to the Duc du Berchald. Nothing can
change it. You’re the chatelaine of Chateau Berchand, and your duty lies within. Show me a priest who would argue that. Well?”
Giselle sighed. Louisa was right again, and she was thoroughly tired of it. “You’re not a very supportive companion, Louisa.”
“You are so wrong, my love. And I’m the best friend you’ll ever find. Between us, we’ll find a way to make this work, you’ll see. Things are never as bad as we think they are. What do you say? The sun is bright, you can go wherever you like, and do whatever you wish. Who knows? A child might be what the duc needs to bring out his charm.”
“Charm? Etienne? You don’t know the man.” Giselle mumbled it, but she did start picking through the breakfast tray.
“No, but I heard he sent instructions for tomorrow’s supper. You’re more of an influence than you think. He might even join the family downstairs. Think of that! He hasn’t joined them for dinner since the physicians sent by his mother gave up on him. That was years ago. Think of it, Giselle!”
Louisa shook her head while Giselle sampled her omelet, trying not to show how frightened she was at the thought. She was to dine opposite him? With the things he’s said and the lustful way he eyed her? How would she manage to eat?
“And all you long for is to pray,” Louisa continued. “A habit reserved for nuns, priests, and bedtime, I say.”
~
Dinner was as horrible as she’d imagined.
Non, Giselle thought. It was worse than horrible, and she’d spent more than four hours getting ready!
Isabelle had awakened her from a nap with the news that a hairdresser was there to see her. Giselle would’ve asked who ordered his services, but knew she wouldn’t like the answer.
“Ah, Giselle, good. You’re awake,” Isabelle said. “This is wonderful. There is a Monsieur Poinre here. He is a hairdresser. He finished with your new aunt, and is ready to assist you.”
“You’re a very lucky woman, Giselle. I hear he is the best at hair arrangement in all of Paris. We were lucky he came this far south on such little notice, weren’t we?” Louisa asked.
Giselle met Louisa’s eyes in the mirror until her smile faded. “I’m being prepared for sacrifice, and you dance with glee.”
“Sacrifice? You have a vivid imagination, Giselle. I’m more than surprised at you.”
“That’s what it is,” she grumbled.
“Non, Giselle. It’s a fete, held in your chateau, and in your honor. It’s just as I imagined for you all these years. Think of it. The duc gave instructions yesterday to prepare for his presence, and the invitations went out all day long. You should see the list of acceptances. It’ll be the most entertaining evening the locals have seen in years.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“There’s no reason to be afraid. Why wouldn’t they come? No one has seen you since you were a child, and who can blame them for their curiosity? You have no reason to be other than thrilled. I know I am.”
“I’m being put on display, and you’re thrilled?”
Louisa laughed. “Of course, you’ll be on display, Giselle. What beautiful woman isn’t? And you will be stunning. We’ll make certain of it, won’t we, Isabelle? You’ll outshine them all. You’ll see.”
So. She was to be the entertainment…and worse. Etienne would be joining her at it.
“You’ll be more than stunning. Everyone will notice you tonight, everyone. We will make certain of your enticement.”
Such preparation was absurd. She knew why they were doing it. And who it was to entice. But they didn’t know him! Etienne doesn’t need any encouragement. She shuddered again at the thought. Etienne was barbaric, bestial, and uncouth. Disgusting! Revolting!
“I have told this Monsieur Poinre that you’re undecided about the powder for your coiffure. He’s an aficionado of that sort of style, and very hard to dissuade, I’m afraid.”
“You? Unable to dissuade anyone? I find that hard to believe,” Giselle said.
Louisa smiled at her again.
“You will see him, won’t you? You’ll not hide away in your new rooms while the world rushes by you? You’ll wear your new gowns and show all of them the beautiful Duchesse du Berchald in all her God-given glory?”
“Enough already, Louisa. You win. Show this hairdresser in.”
Giselle waved her hand as Isabelle and Louisa exchanged glances.
Monsieur Poinre was as short as Giselle, and that was incredible. He brought a stool to stand on in order to do his work. She watched with as much interest as Louisa and Isabelle were as he applied some sort of greasy salve to Giselle’s hair to make it shine. When she asked what it was, he laughed.
“I cannot tell the petit duchesse my secret,” he said. “Where would that leave me? The court at Versailles swears by my formula. It has made me a rich man, and my services are in demand. I’ve considered hiring a helper, but then I’d have to reveal my secret, and it might be stolen from me. You’re lucky I was available, you know.”
Mon Dieu, Giselle thought. The man chattered throughout the arrangement, giving her a headache. When he had her hair slickened and thick-feeling, he fitted a strange caged contraption to the top of her head. Giselle was grateful it was fairly weightless as he settled it into place. Her eyes were starting to pound with the same painful rhythm as her head. She almost cried out as he teased her hair about the cage, pulling and twisting it into masses of curls.
He told her he’d given up two days of patrons in order to travel so far south. It was fortunate he was available when Monsieur Navarre spoke to him. But he had no idea the duchesse was so fair. He might waive his travel fee. It would make his reputation grow to have it known that he had dressed the Duchesse du Berchald’s hair. It was a pleasure, and one he rarely received. Most of his patrons were either thin-haired, or ugly, or old, or all three.
He couldn’t wait to see her finished.
The moment he mentioned Navarre’s name, Giselle’s heart had panged within her, and she cried aloud before she could prevent it. She’d suspected it was Navarre arranging for her to look beautiful…and that hurt. Monsieur Poinre assumed her reaction was due to the arrangement of waves he was creating to cascade down the front of her coiffure, and Giselle let him.
Navarre hired him, because he wanted her beautiful…for Etienne.
Giselle was grateful she hadn’t been forced into her corset yet, because she needed to take deep breaths to still her emotion. It would never do to attend her first public outing with the traces of tears about her face. She wondered if she were strong enough to stifle it, and knew she had to. It was her fate. It was sealed. They wanted her to have a child by Etienne.
Navarre, too.
The thought hammered through her temples until nothing else mattered. Navarre had asked her to be intimate with her husband. How could he ask such a thing? How could any family ask such a thing? What strange intrigues the Berchald family attempted, begging the new duchesse to have her own husband’s child! Had she mentioned it to her priest in Antilli, he would have crossed himself.
Giselle suspected Monsieur Poinre’s formula contained grease, but it smelled faintly of roses. He worked with her hair until the cage was completely hidden. Giselle caught Louisa’s look of delight, and Isabelle’s lifted eyebrows, and tried not to scowl. They could look as pleased as they liked. It wasn’t either one of them who were being dressed to titillate Etienne.
“If the petite duchesse will close her eyes for a moment?”
The hairdresser’s request interrupted Giselle’s train of thought.
“I’ll be finished. Everyone in the castle will be in rapture over your beauty. Everyone in Versailles would be sick with envy.”
Giselle wondered if he spoke to all his clients like that as he tipped her forward, so her face was atop her knees. And then rose-scented powder filled the air, making it difficult to breathe. She was coughing and choking, while tears rolled down her cheeks. She’d wanted her hair powdered, like her mama, the Comtesse d’Antil
lion, but after experiencing it, she changed her mind.
“There!” Louisa clapped her hands. “It’s finished, and you look delightful. I’m astounded, Giselle. Really, I am. What do you think, Isabelle?”
“It’s different,” the maid answered, noncommittally.
Giselle looked up and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Isabella had been accurate. Her image had certainly changed.
“You would be such a hit at the palace,” Monsieur Poinre said with a theatrical whisper. “His Majesty’s eye for beauty is well-known, and you are tres belle. I do not lie. You don’t even need the rice powder so many ladies use to whiten their complexions. Your skin is already so pure and unspoiled. You are lucky for that. I’ve heard some of the nobles have taken to using arsenic to whiten and beautify their skins, although it’s very dangerous. I’m certain you’ll never resort to such. You are so very lucky, Madame.”
Giselle’s headache worsened the longer he spoke. She didn’t care what the nobility did, or how they kept their looks. She only cared about one man, and he wasn’t her husband.
She watched as Louisa tipped him. From the way he turned back and thanked the petit duchesse, it must have been a gracious tip. Giselle wondered why Louisa had pocket gold, while her own employer had no idea how to go about getting any.
“We should probably have asked him for a patch,” Louisa murmured as she shut the door.
“A patch?” Isabelle asked.
Giselle turned her head to admire Monsieur Poinre’s work. Her neck never looked longer or more sleek, and the lack of color made her shading stand out. Giselle’s eyebrows still had high arches, but they were so dark against the rest of her complexion, they brought out her eyes. She hadn’t noticed before how dark brown they were, and her lips looked as if she’d applied rouge.
“Patches come in several shapes and are applied to the face,” Louisa explained. “I’ve heard of stars and moons for example. Not only are they interesting to look at, but they make one’s face look even paler.”
“I’ve never heard of anything so strange, but you heard Monsieur Poinre,” Giselle remarked. “My skin is white enough. Isn’t arsenic a poison? How can people be so stupid?”