“You wouldn’t be breakfasting like that at the market, would you?” she asked.
“Why not?” he replied. “Does it sound too common?”
She shook her head. “Maybe. But also exciting. I envy you. I think you may do anything you want.”
“Not anything,” he said, and surely he meant little by it, but a deep note in his voice thrilled her. A promise, a secret, which made her reach out and touch his arm lightly as they crossed the street.
“There is a bird they call an oystercatcher and it is a mistake to call it thus, since it also dines on crabs, mussels, and echinoderms. Its eggs are darling, with the most handsome markings, but it has the nasty habit of leaving them in seagulls’ nests for the other birds to care for,” Nina said, because when she could not find proper words or gestures, she defaulted to the lines she’d read in books.
Though they had walked but a few paces, she realized she sounded breathless and likely this was why Hector paused to look down at her, curious, making her blush, which was what she’d been avoiding.
They stood motionless and then he leaned down, and she thought he meant to touch her, kiss her. Instead, Hector snapped up his head and spoke to a driver waiting by the curb. He helped Nina into the carriage, and when he released her hand, he smiled again, and in that fluttering second she knew she loved him, loved him true, and it wasn’t the coy flirtation of a young woman.
CHAPTER 13
Montipouret was a region of rivers and lakes, its water mills constantly churning. It was also a place of forests, thickets, and marshes, which contrasted with the open fields and neatly divided parcels of the northern regions. Much of the travel in the area took place by boat. That was how the Beaulieus made their fortune: by ferrying wool upriver to be sold in other regions. Timber, coal, wool, and goats’ milk were the staples of these lands.
The railway now cut through the region, but Montipouret remained less populous, more isolated, and rougher than the rest of the country. Reaching Oldhouse was still an odyssey. Valérie, used to her fine carriage and the macadam streets of Loisail, could not help but mutter to herself as they abandoned the train at Dijou and boarded a carriage that took them down a bumpy road that grew bumpier as the minutes went by. Soon it was not a road at all but a dirt path.
Eventually they arrived at Oldhouse, an estate lacking in grace. It was made of rough stones that had been piled upon one another in a manner that ensured it was sturdy, but nowhere near a delight to the eye.
Oldhouse was divided into two structures, the original Oldhouse having necessitated an annex at a point. A Beaulieu who had a modicum of artistic aspiration had ensured that the main structure and the annex were connected by a long, wide hallway with tall stained-glass windows. These were beautifully rendered but completely out of place, producing a grotesque contrast between the heavy building with small windows and the airy hallway.
Behind Oldhouse rose a tower, like a bony finger pointing at the sky. It preceded the house, marking the remains of another estate. These sights were not unusual in Montipouret, as the locals were fond of reusing whatever stones they could and building new homes with them. Debris and foundations were left here and there, smudges upon the land. The result was an anachronistic combination, one that only rendered Oldhouse uglier and more haphazard.
Valérie never relished the days she spent in Oldhouse, and she had loathed the previous summer when she had been forced to endure a month there in an effort to prepare Antonina for the Grand Season, an absolute waste of her time, since Antonina was often out looking for disgusting bugs or ignoring her advice. This year she’d had even less interest in visiting if it meant she’d have to stomach Hector and Antonina together for days on end, but when she had tried to extricate herself from Oldhouse, both her husband and Antonina’s mother balked at the idea. They thought Antonina needed Valérie’s guidance in this matter. An extended visit from a suitor was of the utmost importance. Who better to counsel the girl and watch over her best interests? Besides, Antonina’s mother was busy running the household, while Antonina’s sister was pregnant with her first child and did not live at Oldhouse anymore, though she had stopped by for a few days. Valérie was reckoned invaluable.
Valérie simply nodded her head as she always did, her face a pretty mask of porcelain, and declared she would accompany the girl.
Valérie and Antonina stepped out of the carriage and into Oldhouse. As soon as they entered the structure, four shaggy dogs rushed to greet them and Nina laughed and patted their heads while Valérie pursed her lips together.
Then came a coterie of aunts, uncles, and cousins. These, like the dogs, were a staple of Oldhouse. The place was always bursting with distant relations and associates of the family. The women clucked and hawed at them. Ordinarily Valérie would have been the center of attention, but they gathered around Antonina, exclaiming at her fine gown and finer looks.
They were dragged to the cavernous hall, with its old tapestries and its great fireplace, where most of the activity in Oldhouse occurred. Two gnarled women—twins, Lise and Linette—sat by the fire. Lise had the annoying habit of calling every woman “sweetheart,” while Linette was almost deaf. They lived in Loisail, but like most of the Beaulieus they came to roost at Oldhouse in the summer.
Two younger women were also by the fire, in high-backed chairs of studded leather: Camille, Nina’s mother; and Madelena, Nina’s elder sister. Madelena took after her mother, with a trace of the Beaulieu in her. She had light brown hair, fine hands, and her mother’s heavy-lidded eyes, which Nina had also acquired, though Nina’s eyes were hazel instead of brown.
Camille and Madelena stood up and hugged Valérie and Antonina both, the sisters giggling when they saw each other.
“Madelena, you are as big as a ship,” Nina declared, looking at her sister’s belly. The woman was quite pregnant. Nevertheless, it was the height of bad manners to remark upon such a thing, and Valérie could not help but glare at Antonina, even if the girl was oblivious to her impropriety.
“And you look like a lady,” Madelena replied. “Cousin Valérie, you have turned her into a woman fit for Loisail’s society.”
Valérie had to bite her tongue because all Nina could do was “look” the part.
“I have tried,” Valérie said tactfully.
“We are happy to see you,” Camille said. “We are also delighted to have you with us, Valérie. Do you know when Gaétan will be joining us?”
“Sometime next month. He sends his love.”
“And when is Nina’s friend going to come?” one of the younger cousins piped.
“He is her fiancé, silly goose,” another cousin replied.
“Mr. Auvray will be here tomorrow,” Nina said primly.
An animated discussion began, but Valérie raised her voice to interrupt the mutterings. “He is not her fiancé,” she said. “Mr. Auvray is but a suitor. We must not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Nina wrote that she expects to be married to him within the year,” the cousin who had spoken before interjected.
Nina had the decency to blush and shake her head. “I said he might ask,” she said. “I think he will.”