Antonina was young and carefree, and Hector was solicitous, kind to her.
It disgusted Valérie. And now they’d piled another injury on her.
How dare he speak to Valérie like that! And over whom? Over Antonina! Precious, stupid “Nina,” gilded girl who could have anything she wanted and apparently that included anyone.
She closed her eyes. She opened them. She tossed a book she had been attempting to read at the window shutters.
Valérie rose from bed and decided she could not stay in that room one minute longer. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and walked toward the stairs, hoping she might find solace if her body were not at rest.
She had not gone far when she saw a figure move ahead of her and turn a corner. For one second she thought it a ghost, an apparition in white, but then she shook her head and recognized her. Antonina, barefoot in her nightgown. Was the girl sleepwalking?
Valérie followed her quietly and realized Antonina was headed toward the section of the house where the men slept. What was this wretched child doing?
She kept her distance and peeked around a corner, watching as Antonina stood before Hector’s door and bent down, dropping something. The girl rushed away, a scared, wild animal.
Valérie waited for a few minutes before tracing Antonina’s steps. She stood in front of Hector’s door and bent down to retrieve whatever object Nina had left behind. It was a letter. In her haste, Antonina had not slid it completely under the door, and Valérie pocketed it.
Back in her room, Valérie lit two candles and sat at the desk. In the city, there was the wonder of gaslights and even electrified light fixtures, but in Oldhouse, wax and oil had to suffice.
Antonina’s writing was more a scrawl than true words, but Valérie was able to read the letter all the same.
Dear Hector,
I find it hard to put my thoughts into sentences, but I must do it or I think I will go mad.
Hector, I love you. I count the hours when I cannot see you and treasure every word you speak to me.
I thought myself happy to simply bask in your presence, but when we embraced I knew the true extent of joy. I want nothing more than to be in your arms again and to kiss you. If what we did was improper, then I confess myself a wretched and foul creature, because I want nothing more than to touch you again.
Should you want me only for one hour or one day, I would gladly take it. I would gladly take whatever you offer. I am not ashamed to admit this.
And should you love me as I love you, then I would be the happiest woman in the world. But for now, I dwell in uncertainty and hope your heart holds at least a fraction of the affection mine holds for you.
In the end, all I can say is: I am yours,
—Nina
When she was done reading, Valérie folded the letter back in place, her fingers tracing its creases carefully. If she did not scream right that second, it was only because she closed her hands into fists, her nails biting half moons into her palms.
Afterward, she lay in bed and pulled the covers up onto her chin. It was ridiculous pap, the letter, but it filled her with dread.
In the morning Valérie rose late, dressed with the utmost care, and quietly inquired as to the whereabouts of Mr. Auvray. A servant told her he’d seen him heading toward the library.
The servant was correct and she found Hector standing by a bookcase, perusing its contents. He was alone, which suited Valérie’s purpose; she went directly toward him. Valérie had decided there was no point in being subtle, a solid approach was necessary.
“I will ask you this but once and ask that you answer truthfully. Have you had the audacity to seduce Antonina under this very roof?”
His shoulders had been relaxed, but he snapped up to attention, grave, glowering.
“What?” he said, sounding more than a little affronted. “I have not.”
Valérie did not reply. It was he who must speak, and she gave him ample time to furnish an answer, knowing he’d elaborate quickly enough.
“We kissed, nothing more has passed between us. You thought differently? Do I seem like the man who’d behave immodestly?”
He spoke the truth, she could tell, and he’d always had honor and noble intentions aplenty. Nevertheless, the answer did nothing to soothe her. There was a taste of bile in her mouth that she knew she could not wash away.
“It does not matter. If she has not ruined herself, she will soon enough. She has no shame,” she exclaimed.
“In heaven’s name, what are you talking about?” he asked.
“Be merry, Hector. You have won. I concede to you. I thought to grant you my indifference, but I cannot. You are hurting me. A nail in my heart each day you pursue that girl, and now I see this will not end until you have ruined us all. I beg you now, leave. You’ve wounded me, you’ve won. Take that as your badge.”
Valérie had a mind to speak calmly, but tears stung her eyes, forcing her to turn her head and press her hands against her face. He tried to pry her hands from her face, but she would not allow it and turned from him in a fury, resting her back against a bookcase. She would not weep for him.
“Valérie, it was not my aim to hurt you,” he said gently.
“It was. All along. Do not lie. I knew you’d return one day. I knew you’d return and punish me.”
“I only wanted to see you, once.”
“Oh, but you came back. Twice and thrice and all those other times for her.”
She drew her hands from her face and looked at him. His eyes were not the same as they’d been in his youth, darker perhaps, drawn with pain. And his mouth, it was stiff and recriminating.
“There’s comfort in being cherished by someone, even if it is not the person you want,” he said. “If you loved me but for a moment, I would—”
“Do not dare to ask me to love you. I never stopped doing it,” she said, and wished to roar the words but they came out in a whisper.
He took a shaky breath and stared at her. If only he had changed more. If only. But she could still see the boy he’d been in his face, hardships and anger unable to drown him completely. And it was this detail that drew her closer to him.
“Valérie, I told you once I’d take you away, and I can keep that promise. We can leave right this instant, you and I,” he said with smothering sincerity; it made her shiver and she had to sit down on a sturdy chair.
He approached her slowly, as if he was afraid she’d bolt, kneeling by her side, holding her hands between his own.
“Why should we despair? The world is vaster than Loisail. I shall buy you a house of your choice, wherever you want. We’ll make a new life. We can be together as we planned all along.”
“In another city! Under an assumed name because I could not utter my family’s name without dying of shame.”
“You can have my name.”
She could not make her hands be still, the fingers trembling, and she had to shove his hands away because his touch only made them tremble more.
What a pretty fantasy he spun, as only Hector might spin, but she knew at once it could not be. She could not vanquish the chains of reality, could she?
“I will always be a Véries,” she said, but her words were almost tentative. “Oh, the shame. The things they would say … Valérie Véries, ruined. It would all be ruined.”