More mutterings began. Valérie could feel the beginning of a headache. How irritating these people were!
She excused herself as quickly as she could, claiming she really should begin to unpack, but truly she could not stomach the commotion and the loud shrieks of Aunt Linette, who kept asking Lise what everyone was going on about.
Once safely in her room, which was located in the main house, Valérie sat on the massive bed, rubbing her temples with both hands.
This was the room where she always stayed whenever she visited the estate. It was crammed with heavy wooden furniture carved with patterns of intricate flowers. The bedspread was a sickening shade of green, with a carpet to match it. There was a fireplace with enameled tiles, the most attractive feature of the room because it meant she would not be cold; the house was eternally chilly.
This was one of the finest rooms in Oldhouse, they’d told her when she’d first arrived. It had been decorated to the taste of the northern wife of a certain Beaulieu and thus was reckoned most appropriate for Valérie, but it was still a sad chamber. The bathroom was better, all green marble with proper plumbing and plenty of towels. Nothing like Loisail, though.
She wondered what room they’d give to Hector and what he would think of this place. Perhaps he’d find some rustic charm in it, as he apparently found some rustic charm in Antonina. Valérie, reared watchfully like a flower in a hothouse, could not see any prettiness in Antonina; her luxuriant qualities were to her an affront. It was like staring at a weed. Her upbringing made her want to stab it with a spade, stomp on it quick, lest it contaminate the garden.
Valérie began to unpack. She placed her dresses in the wardrobe, then carefully set her perfumes and her hairbrush upon the vanity. She had brought one of her jewelry boxes, though she did not think she’d have the occasion to wear this finery. She pulled idly at her necklaces, feeling the weight of her pearls.
Her hands found Hector’s ring.
There was a knock on the door, and before Valérie could reply, Antonina breezed in.
“Valérie, did you bring that blue sash of yours? I’d love to borrow it for tomorrow.”
Valérie placed the ring aside and shook her head. “I did not.”
“That’s a pity. I’ll have to ask my sister if she has one.”
The girl was ready to bolt again, but Valérie raised her voice. “Antonina, may I speak with you?”
“Always. What is it?”
Valérie had thought about her exact words and was satisfied with the speech she had concocted. “Antonina, I can understand how exciting it must be to have Mr. Auvray staying at Oldhouse. Yet I am afraid you are a bit too excitable when it comes to him. Today, for example, you said you expect him to ask for your hand in marriage though he has not made any formal inquiry of the sort.”
“He brings me flowers every time he visits,” Nina said wistfully, clasping her hands together, as if she were holding an invisible bouquet.
“Darling child, I am sure during his life he has had plenty of occasions to take flowers to a number of girls.”
Antonina frowned. Her face was already looking stormy, though Valérie had spoken but a few words. The girl had a temper and wore her heart on her sleeve. “Are you saying he is a cad? He is a perfect gentleman, I can assure you that.”
“A bachelor of his age—”
“Valérie, please, I said he was a perfect gentleman,” Antonina said, raising her voice in a way that always made Valérie want to slap respect into her. She spoke when she pleased, she frowned and she cried and she was crude.
Valérie sat still, her haughty head high, and she looked carefully at the girl. “You must be cautious. A man may change his tune or never sing the tune you expect him to sing at all. You do not know him well enough. It is not advisable to fling yourself at a man simply because he brings you flowers. Be sensible and watch the words that come out of your mouth. You should not have spoken of an engagement without proper assurances.”
“It was merely … I wrote a few letters to my sister and my cousins, and they asked—”
“You lack decorum,” Valérie declared, a judge speaking a sentence.
“Of course you’d say that,” Antonina told her. “You simply hate Hector because he is not one of the boring boys you would have picked for me.”
“All of them sensible young men.”
“I do not want to be sensible.” Antonina had begun pacing around the room.
Valérie gritted her teeth. “I was your age once and know how tempting it is to throw caution to the wind, but I—”
“I doubt it. I doubt you were ever young at all. Why, you act as though you are older than my great-aunts Lise and Linette combined. You reproach me everything and allow nothing. Why must you be so … so mean?”
Valérie was not one prone to kindness, though she had, on occasion, been known to be fair. She was attempting to be fair with Antonina, who was, after all, her cousin by marriage. What was she receiving? Nothing but awful words and terrible manners.
Valérie had viewed Antonina as a piece jostled between Hector and herself, a speck of guilt moving her to speak. Now the guilt was washed away by pure anger.
If Antonina defied her, then she was her enemy.
“Ignore my counsel as you always do, then,” Valérie said. “I waste my breath on the likes of you. You’ll end an old maid.”
Antonina was contrite for a moment, but this was only a moment. Her eyes soon sparked again with that fire of hers. “He does intend to marry me. You shall see.”
“I await news of his proposal with bated breath.”
“You mock me,” Antonina said, sounding affronted.
“You mock yourself.”
Finally words failed the girl. She exited the room with a loud bang of the door, which made Valérie wince even if the theatrics were to be expected. She rubbed her temples again, wondering what the next day would bring and the day after that, Hector’s presence surely blotting each sunrise like ink spilled upon a page. And Antonina with her inane twittering, making it worse.
CHAPTER 14
Étienne dozed for most of the train ride and Luc complained, a pattern that was reenacted once they boarded a carriage and set off for Oldhouse.
“I hope there is hunting here,” Luc said. “I will absolutely die if there isn’t even any hunting.”
“I’m sure there’s game enough,” Hector said. He had not been this far south, but he’d had plenty of opportunity to survey the countryside as the train cut its path through the land, his eyes falling upon brooks and dense patches of trees.
“But would they have proper horses?” Luc wondered, shaking his blond head. He was as handsome as he was spoiled, a prime example of the Beautiful Ones. “There’s nothing worse than a hunt with an old nag to ride. Why did you drag me here, again?”
“I did not drag you here,” Étienne replied. He had placed his hat upon his face to try to sleep. “Father sent you with me because you were chasing after a dancer.”
“As if you haven’t chased dancers of your own.”
“You were spending ridiculous amounts of money on her. Borrowed money, I may add.”