“Nina, if you want to play these games in the privacy of your room, I will not chide you, but in the presence of others, you should restrain yourself,” he replied.
“You’ll chide me only when others look at me, then,” she said.
“With your family, you may do as you please, but outsiders are another matter entirely.”
Nina crossed her arms against her chest and scowled.
“Look, you mustn’t take it badly. Surely people have explained this to you. Your cousin Valérie must have—”
He could not have said a worse thing. Nina snapped her head up, furious at the mention of the woman’s name. “I don’t care what Valérie thinks of me. What is objectionable about it?”
“It is not normal. It is a performance at a fair, like the freaks they display for a few coins,” he said.
“The freaks?”
“I don’t mean you. I mean, in general, these are carnival games, these are things unfit for ladies.” He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her, and tipped her head up.
Her cheeks flared at the thought of his lips against hers, but she shook her head regardless of it and would not allow it.
“Nina, Nina—”
“No! You can’t kiss me and make everything better anytime I am upset,” she said, freeing herself from his grasp.
“But it is a ridiculous thing to be upset about!”
“This is me, Luc Lémy. Like my eye color and my hair, like the mole on my wrist, this is me. Why is it so difficult for everyone to see that?” she asked him.
“You have lovely hair and lovely eyes. We should not fight,” he said.
He meant to take her in his arms once more, but then came the voices of her great-aunts as they returned home, and Nina was grateful for the interruption. She was both flustered and annoyed. The old ladies were pleased to see Luc Lémy, and he diligently greeted them, tossing them many choice compliments.
When he bade all of them good-bye, he held Nina’s hand tight and she blushed, but she was upset.
During dinner she considered the matter more evenly. He meant well and his comment was not uncommon. Her family had said similar things to her, her mother fretting over the ability. She knew that they’d sent her to the city because the youths nearby, like the Meinard boy, viewed her with suspicion.
And yet!
She stood in her room, by the window, contemplating the canal as she twirled a card in the air.
CHAPTER 12
Nina Beaulieu stood admiring the great papier-mâché horse’s head resting in his dressing room. It reached above her waist and had been damaged a bit during a recent performance: an ear had fallen off. Hector had plenty of people who could repair it for him, but he liked to do these things himself when he had the chance. He’d handled all his props and costumes by necessity when he was starting in the business, and could quickly mend trousers and shirts.
“How do you like the reality behind the spectacle?” he asked.
She’d insisted in taking a look inside the theater, although he had meant to meet her outside of it and head for a walk. He’d offered her a tour of the whole building, Dufren walking with them as a sort of impromptu chaperone, and Hector showed her the inner workings of his show. She seemed pleased looking at the backdrops and ropes, but he saw no harm in asking.
“It’s wonderful,” she said. “Did you always know you wanted to do this?”
“I didn’t have a choice, seeing as both my parents performed—but, yes. I enjoy it.”
“You could have done something else, I’m sure.”
“Possibly. But why waste my talent?” he asked.
“True enough. It’s not as if every man you pass on the street can lift an elephant with his mind.”
She patted the horse’s head. She was guarded. He did not ask what was wrong, feeling no need to rush the conversation. She’d asked to see him, and they were both slowly stumbling along a path, trying to determine whether they could become friends again. He was glad to be silent and let her speak her mind when she felt like it.
“Did you ever wish you could be normal?” she asked. “Did you ever wish your talent away?”
“And miss the chance to lift those pesky elephants?”
She smiled at that and turned around to look at him. “No doubts, then?”
“Maybe when I was young. I suppose you’ve considered it. I didn’t realize that.”
“At times. I … I want to control it, but sometimes I want it gone.”
“You or others?” he asked.
“Does it matter?”
“It’s an important distinction.”
Nina sighed. “Certain days I believe that it might be easier to be like any other, ordinary lady.”
Hector held both her hands between his and smiled down at her. “Nina, you can never be ordinary.”
The warmth of his gesture was both genuine and unexpected, and it startled them both. There was a distance, a bracketing of their emotions, that held them at bay. When either of them breached the line that separated them, it was uncomfortable.
They could speak now, they could even smile at each other, but the wounds were there. These were not old battle scars, but fresh lines upon the flesh. They might mend, one day.
“It seems I also can’t be a lady,” she said, sounding nervous. She turned away from him, and her eyes alighted on the boxes of insects he’d left strewn across his desk. She drifted toward them, picking one up and examining its contents. “More beetles,” she said.
“I did say I bought twenty,” he replied, standing next to the desk and glancing down at the boxes, then back at her.
“But there are so many here. Your numbers don’t add up.”
“I bought a few more,” he admitted.
He’d bought a few books, too, trying to determine exactly what he was looking at.
“Are you purchasing them in bulk now?”
“I’m starting to appreciate the beauty of insects.”
“You say that to make me happy.”
“I do not say things merely to please you,” he replied, rather serious.
“But you didn’t care about them before,” she countered.
“A man may change his mind.”
Again she appeared guarded, silence stretching between them. The discomfort of neither knowing their place, or proper role.
“I won’t ask you why you’ve come to see me today, but you may always tell me what you are thinking,” he said.
Her eyes flicked to him but they were interrupted before she could speak.
“Hector, a word with you?” Mr. Dufren asked. He was standing at the entrance with papers in his hands. Hector had left the door wide open, thinking it would be less unseemly that way. Nina was an unmarried lady, after all. Appearances mattered. The open door, however, invited conversation from others, like now, Dufren awaiting him.
“I’ll be back soon,” Hector told her.
“Soon” turned out to be closer to fifteen minutes. When he returned and walked in, he saw Nina had moved behind his desk and was looking at his books, her fingers drifting across the spines, like a musician teasing the strings of a guitar.
She stepped back and made a book drift toward her, opening it as if it were a fan, the pages making a soft rustling sound.