Brocade Series 02 - Giselle (21 page)

Giselle
worked at maintaining her color and a blank expression.
She knew she’d succeeded when Esmee turned back toward the
books and continued speaking.

“
I thought I loved him, but I didn’t. How could I once I found
myself living in squalor? We couldn’t afford much. He couldn’t pay for a maid
to help me. I had to clean floors on my hands and
knees, Giselle. It was a time of complete horror.

“And p
eople looked down their noses at us. I can’t explain how it felt, but I shudder to remember. Gerard was a milliner, by trade and
an
artiste
with his creations, but there was no one to help, so I had to
sell them. Imagine standing for hours while the
noblesse
tried on
hats. I had to listen to their comments as if I didn’t exist. Ugh. It was horrid.”

She finished looking at book titles and came to sit down again
.
She almost caught Giselle glancing over at the manservant lingering
near the door. Esmee spoke as if he weren’t there, just as she’d
finished describing. Giselle decided she didn’t want Esmee’s advice,
after all.

“
Gerard took sick one winter. Perhaps we could have done something different. Perhaps we should have paid the coal timely. Who can say? It was a joy to be released, Giselle. I didn’t even mind being relegated to a position of poor relation. At least I was back in
the chateau, and back in my own world, among my own kind.”

Among her own kind?
Giselle couldn’t meet her eyes. She had no idea Esmee was harboring such disgust for others. She wondered
what Esmee thought of Giselle’s affection for Louisa and Isabelle,
and knew she wouldn’t ask. But one thing was certain. Esmee had
nothing of value for Giselle.

“
But come, Giselle, let’s talk of something else. I’ve certainly
been morbid today. First there was the ghost in the tower, now my
distaste of Gerard. I’m no grieving widow, am I? Don’t answer that.
I can see it in your face.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s ancient history. But come. Perhaps you’d enjoy
planning the next supper party? We can invite eligible parties for
Navarre and me if you like.”

She chuckled at her wit, but Giselle didn’t find her the least bit
amusing. She wasn’t going to plan a party, or anything else of that nature. She was going to order a bath and cleanse the morning’s
experiences away, and then she was going to pray.

She only hoped it would work.

~

It didn’t take long to realize the futility. It seemed nothing
Giselle tried brought any comfort. All her prayers seemed to gain her
was more time on her knees. It had been two days and as many nights since Navarre had left. Giselle was barely able to contain her grief, and it only worked as long as there was daylight. Louisa
mentioned doctors again, as if a physician could cure what ailed the
duchesse.

At least Etienne moved back into his chamber, and
Giselle could
cry each night in the huge, lonely bed without having anyone gossip
about it. No one knew how much her heart ached. Giselle had no
idea she possessed the ability to suffer like she was.

It was all she could do each day to pretend her heart wasn’t
breaking and that she’d slept well. Only her pallor gave her away.
She was certain of it.

It was a fragile charade, though
. She nearly burst into tears
when Aunt Mimi asked her to sponsor a ball — not a small one, but a
huge affair, attended by as many acquaintances as could be persuaded
to leave Paris and Versailles for a weekend in the country. The thought appalled Giselle. She’d be sobbing long before she
entered the ballroom.

“You can’t cling to shadows
much longer, Giselle,” Louisa said.
“You have a household to run, and the chef speaks nonstop of your cruelty in returning his dishes untouched.”

“What do you want, Louisa?”

Giselle asked it in as even a tone
as she could and turned away to look at the wall.
She knew Louisa stood at the base of her bed-platform, her
hands on her hips, surveying the bed. She didn’t need to see it.

“Perhaps
I’d
like to seek other employment,
Madame.
It’s clear
I’m
no longer needed here.”

Giselle’s eyes filled with tears
. It wasn’t enough penance that she lost Navarre? She had to lose everyone she loved?

“Go ahead. I can’t stop you.”

It was
meant as sarcasm. It failed miserably. Giselle buried her face and
shook with the sobs she’d reserved for the darkest hours of the night.

“Giselle, my sweet, don’t cry
.
I’d
never do anything so cruel.
I promise.” Louisa wrapped her arms around Giselle as she once did
when Giselle was too young to understand her own father’s dislike.

“You don’t understand, Louisa
. I love him. I do. I can’t
change it. I’ve tried.” Giselle’s words tumbled over each other
.

Louisa chuckled and smoothed Giselle’s hair. “
Well…I suppose it was inevitable, considering. I’ve rarely seen such a man, and
I’m
not
young and beautiful like you.
Monsieur
Navarre is a very lucky fellow, I would say.”

Giselle started from her shoulder and stared.

“What? I surprise you? Oh, please, Giselle. Credit me with eyes, and
the ability to see into your heart. You might be able to hide your
emotions from the others, especially that drunkard husband of yours,
but you can’t hide them from me. Dry your eyes. We must decide
what to do about this love of yours. Here.”

She handed Giselle a face cloth, freshly wrung
. Giselle didn’t
bother to ask why Louisa had it.

“That’s better
. Now. I daresay when you see this Navarre again, you don’t want to look old and haggard like me, do you? Of course not.”

Giselle didn’t answer, but her tears stopped
. The cloth felt cool and soothing against her eyes, too.

“We could plan this outrageous weekend ball your Aunt Mimi
has been pestering you with,
non?
That should give her something to
occupy herself with…and it would give everyone something better to do with their time than gossip over the
duchesse’s
fragile health. In
the meantime, how would you like a little jaunt to Paris?”

“Paris?” Giselle pushed up from the bed.

“Of course. I don’t see why you cannot choose your own
gown for this type of affair, and we can arrange for
Monsieur
Poinre
to do your hair again,
oui
? It sounds exciting just thinking of it. You’ll have to take your maid and companion with you, of course.”

“Of
course.” Giselle smiled.

“I’ve visited the Paris
shoppes
before, Giselle. I probably need
more thread with which to sew, don’t I? Besides Isabelle mentioned
the lack of good tatting thread here, and you know how particular she
is about her lace.”

“
I…hadn’t thought of it.” Giselle gazed out the window. Had she really been so self-centered and selfish? She was as
bad as Esmee,
“
And with all the designers there, we can certainly find something
unique with which to stun a certain nobleman I could name.”

Navarre.
His image came to Giselle, and she felt her heart
sink. She actually felt the motion, and it made her vaguely ill.
Navarre had accused her of toying with him once, and now she
was planning on doing it again? Her shoulders drooped as she
remembered what he thought of her. He’d never come, regardless of
the fete they planned, or her
couture,
or her feelings. He’d never
come.

“You go too fast, Louisa. I don’t see how
—”

“He’ll come, Giselle. He knows his duty, and, unless the
duc
stands beside you to welcome your guests,
Monsieur
Navarre will
have to do it.”

“You don’t know him
. He’s so proud, so stubborn.”

“Which is why he’ll come. Trust me, Giselle.”

“Oh. If only….” Her whisper trailed away, and she wiped at her
eye before Louisa saw it.

“Can I order the carriage for the morning? It will take some
time to reach Paris, and
I’m
not sure where the Berchald house is in
the city.”

“You think he’ll come? Truly
?”

“He’s proud and stubborn
. You said so, yourself. Those
attributes will make him come. You’ll see. He’s a Berchald, Giselle,
and his duty is to stand in for his brother. He’ll come. I promise.”

“Then, order the carriage
. See if Esmee has the directions, or
Aunt Mimi. Oh, Louisa, tell them of our plans! I won’t be able to
sleep with the excitement.”

“That’s an improvement to your usual reason, I would say.”

Giselle couldn’t think of a witty response before Louisa left. And s
he had to admit the woman was right once again.

Aunt Mimi was thrilled with Giselle’s change of heart.
Perhaps she thought it due to her persuasive talents, and that made it
even more pleasant to plan. Giselle didn’t dissuade her. The dowager
duchesse
readily agreed to take care of all the arrangements, leaving
Giselle’s time free to visit Paris and to shop. Esmee was a ready
companion, too.

The trip to Paris was accomplished with so much good humor, it seemed to have taken no time at all.

Giselle clung to her side of the Berchald coach as they neared
the city. The noise of so many people overwhelmed her. She was
afraid it showed. She’d never seen such crowds before, and she
suspected Louisa wasn’t as self-assured as she tried to be, either. If it
hadn’t been for Isabelle’s quiet demeanor, Giselle would have been
trembling, but she needn’t have worried. The coachman knew the
way, as well as Esmee. Giselle paid attention as Esmee pointed out
several landmarks.

The Berchald house was on a very exclusive street and was
much quieter than the rest of the city. Giselle was grateful for that.
She was tired from the travel, although it was but mid-day. She
hadn’t rested, but it wouldn’t have been possible. Sleeping in the
coach would have been difficult, and she hadn’t wanted to close her
eyes once they reached Paris.

“Th
e duchesse?”
a manservant said. “We’ve but just learned of your visit. You’ve been prompt. Follow me, please.”

Louisa and Isabelle were at Giselle’s heels as she followed
Esmee and the man into a high-ceiling salon. Even here, it appeared the Berchalds built for giants. Word had been sent ahead, but the
staff appeared surprised to see them. Giselle frowned as candles were
lit
and dust covers were removed so they could sit down.

“Perhaps you could see to some refreshments after our long
journey, Garon. It is Garon, isn’t it?” Esmee asked.

“Oui, Madame
Denton.
I’ll
see if something can be
prepared for you.”

The servant tipped his head in a slight gesture.
Giselle watched him.

“Prepared
? We sent word ahead of our arrival, Garon. Did it
not arrive?”

“Oui, Madame.”

“Then this display is inexcusable. Please have the housekeeper
shown in.”

“We aren’t used to visitors,
Madame.”

“
I will not repeat myself, Garon. The housekeeper?”

He gave Esmee a thin-lidded look before bowing from their
presence. Giselle couldn’t shake the feeling of his insolence.
Perhaps it was the way he stiffened when Esmee spoke, but she
guessed it was something more. It felt as if they were the intruders, and the staff actually owned the house. Giselle wondered if he was this
insolent because it was Esmee speaking…and due to
her misalliance, she no longer had the power to
command? Or…was he this insolent to everyone?

“You sent for me,
Madame
Denton?”

The stiff-necked, white-haired woman who entered had the
same hard note in her voice as she curtsied.

“Actually, it was I,
Madame,”
Giselle spoke up. “It seems
notice of our visit didn’t arrive in time for the staff to prepare for it.”

“Madame
la
Duchesse.”

The housekeeper’s curtsy was as brief as the one she’d given Esmee
.
Giselle’s eyes narrowed, but it was Esmee who spoke.

“The
duchesse
finds the lack of servitude in her own house to
be annoying,
Madame.
We can only guess it is due to your influence.
I can only hope it’s but newly-caused.”

“
My duty is to serve,
Madame,
I apologize for any lack the
staff may display. I will speak with Garon.”

Giselle watched her as she spoke
. Far from looking apologetic,
she looked more like she was barely controlling her anger.

“Very good
. The
duchesse
would like to rest now. We are all wearied from our long journey. Are there enough bedchambers that can be aired quickly?”

“You don’t wish refreshment, now?”

“They can be brought to our suites just as easily. I am not used
to repeating myself,
Madame.
I would not like to do so again.”

“It will be seen to, of course. If you’ll follow me?”

Giselle watched the woman flick her eyes to the
barely-uncovered furniture, and Giselle flushed. She guessed what
the woman was thinking about the wasted effort, and it embarrassed
her. She was as thoughtless as Esmee, ordering dust-covers removed and not even sitting on the uncovered furniture.

The duchess’ suite was as warm and inviting as the one in the
castle was cold and solemn. Giselle looked about in wonder. It was
exactly what she would’ve expected from Aunt Mimi, all pink and
white. Even the furniture was painted white.

“Why is this room so bright?”

She asked the housekeeper,
who had never ceased watching her.

“The former
duchesse
was responsible for this room.”

“The one at the castle is so dark, though.” Giselle spoke without thinking, and Isabelle gave her a warning glance.

“I believe the rooms at the castle were decorated because of a
condition a former
duchesse
suffered from,
Madame.
She couldn’t
abide light. It made her head ache.”

“But, Aunt Mimi—I mean,
Madame
Mimi surely would have
changed it?”

“The workings of the aristocracy are beyond my reasoning
.
The dowager
duchesse
was very happy here,
Madame.
Will there be anything else?”

Giselle felt like she was being chastised and then dismissed
. It
was a horrid feeling. She longed to make the woman stay, just so
Giselle could be the one deciding when she could go, but that was
stupid.

“Non. Mercì, Madame.
Good eve.”

The woman seemed surprised at Giselle’s kind answer. Giselle
wondered if that was why they were all so sullen. Was being a
servant such a hateful existence? She would ask Isabelle, but it could
wait.

Giselle fell asleep dreaming of the dresses she would choose,
the jewelry she might try on and the shoes she’d buy. And still, Navarre’s
face haunted her.

~

It was still an issue as the next day progressed, Giselle following Esmee and their
servants through the Paris streets. And at every shop she visited, she was announced at the
doorway with a pomp she disliked.

‘The
Duchesse
du Berchald!” each proprietor effused. “It is a pleasure to have such a beauty in my pitiful
shoppe.”

Giselle had decided by the third such greeting that if one more
man mentioned his pitiful
shoppe,
she was going to hit him
with her new pelisse. At first she
had been flattered, then she had blushed, but b
y the fourth such greeting, she was bored
with it. The response they got from her now was a quick smile
and a nod.

Esmee ordered so many new things, Giselle quickly lost track
.
To everyone’s dismay, all that caught the
duchesse’s
eye was the new
cloak she wore. She wasn’t going to buy just anything. She knew
exactly what she was looking for.

“The
Duchesse
du Berchald!” yet another storekeeper said.
“It’s a pleasure….”

Giselle ignored the rest of his greeting. She’d seen a bolt of
material through the window that she wanted to see closer. She left
Esmee to divert the man’s attention and went looking. She couldn’t prevent her gasp when she found it. It was silky to the touch and interwoven with such golden thread that it seemed
alive.

“This material,
Monsieur…
have you made a dress of it yet?”

She knew the answer as his face fell. It felt like her spirits did the
same motion.

“Oui, Madame,
but I can have another crafted immediately.”

Giselle set the bolt down with difficulty
. The moment she’d seen
the pale rose-colored material, she knew it was perfect. It was
amazing how long and dull the day seemed of a sudden. She lingered
a gloved finger on it, before turning.

“Then th
ere is nothing else of interest,
Monsieur.
I bid you—”

“Wait,
Madame
la
Duchesse!
It hasn’t been delivered yet.
Come quickly. If it becomes known that I sold
Mademoiselle
Frerre’s dress to another, she’ll have me run out of Paris.”

“Mademoiselle
Frerre?”

Esmee choked on the name, but Giselle ignored her
. She was already following the man. The dress he showed her was well worth
the trouble, too. She held her breath. The material was cut on the
bias, and seemed to swirl like a whirlwind upward from the floor. The lace he’d stitched onto the bodice, sleeves and underskirt was
such a deep green it was almost shocking in contrast. It reminded
Giselle of the arbor as she last saw it.

“I’ll
pay double what she offered,” Giselle said. “As long as
there’s no matching material on your shelf. Do we understand each
other,
Monsieur?”

She was surpris
ed with her own insistence. She
guessed that was what made Esmee’s mouth open and close, too.
Giselle wasn’t used to commanding anyone. She was surprised at the
heady feeling.

The man clapped his hands. “It will be as the petite
duchesse
asks. The bolt of material will be delivered to the Berchald estate this
evening, along with the dress.
I’ll
attend to it myself. There is still
the matter of the accessories that
Mademoiselle
Frerre chose. Do you wish those, too?”

Giselle ignored the others and followed him. If the woman had
taste enough to have such a gown designed and sewn, her accessories
were probably well worth the time, too.
Besides,
she told herself,
this Mademoiselle Frerre wasn’t likely to need accessories for a gown
she ‘d never own, was she?

Giselle was thrilled with the selection
. The mass of petticoats the mysterious woman had chosen were as beautiful and unique as
the dress. She couldn’t wait to try it on, and have it taken in, but that
could be done at the castle.

She was exhausted by the time they left the dress
shoppe.
She
had spent a fortune, but it was worth it. She had no idea shopping
was so tiring, and she was grateful Esmee didn’t say a word.

~

Aunt Mimi was up to the challenge. By the weekend for the
ball, the castle’s guest rooms were full. Even the
Comte d’
Antillion had come. Giselle wasn’t looking forward to playing an
adoring wife for her papa, but she’d do whatever it took to see
Navarre.

Etienne promised to attend and also promised Navarre that
he’d stay from wine for the entire day. Giselle had Gerty to thank for
that gossip, for if Navarre ever came to the chateau, Giselle never saw
him.

It had been almost three weeks since she’d gone to Paris
. Each day felt like an eternity of loneliness passing. Giselle was surprised
to feel that way. She was surrounded by people, yet so alone, she
might as well be sequestered in her tower at Antilli.

She hadn’t known being lovelorn felt exactly like the poets had
written. There was no measure for how it felt. Each day added more to the pain.
Sometimes, it felt like the
weight of it, growing in her breast, was impossible to ignore. She’d
double up with it, and hope no one noticed. And the fittings continued, the arrangements grew apace, and the chattering swirled about as if nothing were amiss.