Brocade Series 02 - Giselle (8 page)

“Perhaps you’ll ask the
duc
if an expansion to the kitchens can
be accomplished,
Madame?
It is a horror I cannot describe trying to
reach culinary mastery in such a kitchen. I shouldn’t complain, but I
need room. I need light! I need more ovens. You do see that, don’t
you,
Madame?”

Chef Aaron was taller than Giselle, but he easily
accounted for two men with his girth. He was very earnest with his
pleas, however.

“
I will speak to the
duc
about your needs,” Giselle answered.

She should have
realized that comment would be gossiped over,
and that she’d be open to all sorts of complaints. Giselle was
surprised she’d been so naive.

“
There aren’t enough housemaids,
Madame
la
Duchesse.”
Madame
Dessard added her list of wants quickly. “I can’t clean the rafters without help.”

Giselle smiled from her position at the end of the table in
one of the
small dining rooms. “Hire what is necessary,
Madame
Dessard. See
to it that the ducal chambers are given a thorough cleaning, too.”

A look of consternation crossed her face
. That was almost amusing. Giselle knew the
cause. She’d met him that morning.

“Perhaps I can make do without
the extra help,
Madame,”
the housekeeper finished.

She was waiting to be excused, but Giselle wasn’t about to
allow that.

“
Non.
You’re to see that the
duc’s
rooms are cleaned,
Madame
Dessard…with or without the new help.”

“How do you suggest
I do that, please?”

Esmee looked to Giselle for suggestions too, and she had none,
but she couldn’t let them know that.

“I’ll have the
duc
moved into my chambers in the meantime,” she finally replied.

“Very good,
Madame.”

The look she gave Giselle was a combination of bemusement
and doubt, and she was right. How could Giselle get Etienne moved
into her chambers? That news would spread through the staff quickly,
she knew that much. She recalled how quickly they learned things
back in Antilli. Giselle sighed. There was nothing for it. She’d have
to speak with Etienne.

She stood. “What have you arranged for luncheon,
Esmee?”

“
I have made arrangements for salmon mousse and peaches to
be served at half-past two, Giselle. I can have that changed if it’s not
to your liking.”

“
Excellent. It sounds delicious.”

Giselle
realized her luck instantly. Esmee was going to be a dear about it,
when Giselle had been expecting dislike, anxiety, or worse, outright
anger.

“I
am in awe of your ability, Esmee. I will consult
with you before I change a thing. I’m…very new to this sort of
thing, you understand.”

Esmee smiled and it made her look very like Navarre
. Giselle
had been doing her best to forget him, too. She had to look away.

She hadn’t seen him all morning, although she’d kept
expecting to, especially when they reached the Blue Salon. Giselle
had glanced at the large chair he’d occupied, just to see if her
previous reaction was there.

It was
.

Perhaps it was better that he hadn’t been there. After
all, she was a married woman, and had no right thinking of another
man.

“You’re doing splendidly, Giselle,” Esmee replied. “The staff
has noticed, too. The castle feels differently, already.”

She wouldn‘t be as effusive if she knew how frightened
Giselle was
of approaching the
duc
. None of them would.

“Would you excuse me please, Esmee? I believe I’ll rest in my rooms until luncheon.”

Giselle had to ask a servant to direct her and felt like an
ignorant fool. How could she have said she’d get Etienne to move?
And into her chambers? She was mad to consider it.

Giselle lay in the bed, trying to rest
. All she could think of was
her dread of Etienne.

“He
cannot move, Giselle,” she told herself aloud,
hoping to banish the fright. “If he’s horrid to me, I can run. He
cannot.”

Isabelle had undressed Giselle from the deep purple morning
gown she’d worn, so she could rest. She couldn’t rest at all.
A dressing gown lay across the bed, and she put her arms into
it before tying it haphazardly about her waist. She would speak to
Etienne right away, before luncheon. It wouldn’t get less frightening
if she delayed. It would only get worse.

Giselle stopped at the connecting door
and watched her hand shake at the lock. She couldn’t do it. He’d throw another book at her! He’d sneer at her again. He’d frighten and scare her.

She sighed
, turned around, and went back to the monstrosity of bed.

There were twelve for dinner. Esmee took Giselle around the drawing room, introducing her to the castle’s tenants. There was only
one she remembered by sight because he was named Francois, like her brother. She spent
most of the time conversing with Etienne’ s aunt, the dowager
duchesse,
Mimi.

That, and
attempting to ignore Navarre.

“
I can’t wait to see your portrait in the gallery, Giselle,” the
dowager
duchesse
said. “The Berchald line has always possessed
beauty, but you’re even more so. Then again, the Antillions are
known for being comely. I was so proud when my husband, the late
duc,
arranged your marriage to Etienne, especially with your dowry.”

Giselle murmured something inconsequential, but it didn’t
matter. Their aunt didn’t seem to need encouragement.

“Etienne has angered me greatly during these past years. Why,
when he had his coming-out, they came from far and wide just to see
him. You can’t imagine a more handsome physical specimen than
my nephew.”

Oh yes, I can,
Giselle thought and looked over at Navarre.

He’d
attended sup, dressed as if to draw everyone’s
attention. He wore a burgundy-colored jacket that made the color of his eyes stand out. And he had a small amethyst stone at the
throat of his jabot. He’d completed his ensemble with black silk
breeches over white hose. He was more than handsome, she decided.
He was a delight on the senses. Giselle couldn’t have kept her eyes
from him if she tried.

The priest had already counseled her on her duties, which were
owed to her husband. Giselle was to light three candles to Saint Mary
to absolve herself from further lustful thoughts. Giselle frowned.

It appeared she’d gone to confession too soon.

As if she spoke aloud, Navarre looked at her over the rim of his
wine glass. His eyes were dark purplish blue, and he narrowed them
slightly as he watched her.

“Then there’s Jean-Claude
,” the dowager
duchesse
continued at Giselle’s side. “Such a waste. Almost the moment my dear brother-in-law was
buried,
Madame
Berchald took him to Versailles, and it has
ruined him! They’ve turned him into the same kind of noblemen as
themselves. Always the parties with them. Always the drink, the
games of chance, and the trysts! Sometimes, it goes on for days, I
am told! He is just like the others who are ruining France. Ah! For
the old days.”

Navarre sipped his wine and held Giselle’s gaze easily.

Why couldn’t it have been Navarre?

“The Lord didn’t bless me with any children, Giselle, and I
hope you and Etienne will somehow…oh dear. My mouth does run away with me sometimes. I apologize.”

“Pardon?
”

Giselle pried her gaze from Navarre and watched the
dowager
duchesse
blush.

“Yes…where was I
? Your new family is not so large,
oui?
I’ve heard your own swelled to eight, is it? So many sons! The
Comte d’Antillion
must be so proud.”

Giselle murmured something
. It didn’t matter. Mimi just kept speaking.

“Well, there’s also Esmee
. She was betrothed at birth to the
eldest son of the
Marquis
de Lingue. It would’ve been such a union!
One, I had a hand in creating, I must confess, but alas, the boy died
from a childbed fever.”

“Then who was
Monsieur
Denton?”

“He was a
commoner! A member of the bourgeois! Such a
misalliance. He was a mere shopkeeper in Paris, a milliner. It was such a shock, and I still shudder to think of the repercussions.”

She looked ready to faint. Giselle kept her eyebrows from
rising, and was proud of that fact. And while she waited for the dowager
duchesse
to recover, she practiced ignoring Navarre’s presence, just as the priest had advised her to do.

“Esmee’s rather
…large, my dear,” the dowager
duchesse
continued. “Not that you’ll ever have that problem but she was also
too old. Why, she was over twenty when Monsieur Denton
offered for her. He was tossed out for his trouble. Their father
would never allow a marriage with a tradesman. Esmee had other
plans, though. You see. She eloped.”

Giselle was engrossed by the story of Esmee’s elopement
. She wouldn’t have
dreamed the woman capable of such a thing.

“Of
course,
Monsieur
du Berchald, my husband’s brother,
disowned her completely. Cut her off without a
franc,
if you will.
He had no other choice.” She shook her head sadly.

I won
’t look at Navarre. I won’t! Nothing can
make me.

“
She was in luck that Etienne accepted her
back when
Monsieur
Denton died. Then again,
Etienne was young…just sixteen, and he had other
things occupying his life. He had just been wed with you, and
received your dower.”

With Janelle, you mean,
Giselle thought absently. It was a
moot point. She had still been wed. She was having a difficult time
following the conversation. Navarre had moved from behind the
pianoforte to the fireplace. Giselle somehow knew it without looking.

“Now, we are just the remnants of the great Berchald dynasty
.
What you see before you, is the only family I have. You’d think with so many nephews, I would have more babies to spoil…oh dear. I
have done it again.”

“What of Na
— Um. The others?”

“Jean-Claude is wed almost eight years. That
is his wife over
there.”

The dowager
duchesse
gestured to someone Giselle should
have remembered. She looked over and saw a large, unhappy-looking
woman. Giselle pitied her the stays of her corset, because she looked
pinched in half. Giselle may have a small waist, but her own corset
was driving her mad with the scratchiness. It
was best to keep her mind off of it.

She was wearing one of her new gowns, complete with panniers to hold the skirts out at the sides
. To sit and converse with Aunt Mimi, meant she was barely seated on the edge of her chair. That was the only way her skirts would fit.

“
They have a daughter, but alas, no heir. Of course,
Jean-Claude would have a better chance of that if he stayed at the
castle instead of intriguing with his
Mama.”

Aunt Mimi touched Giselle hand with the tip of her fan, as if
she were telling the latest bit of gossip. And perhaps it was. What did Giselle know of it?

“My maid mentioned that Etienne sent for a bath this afternoon, my dear
. I can’t tell you how pleased I am about that.”

Giselle moved uncomfortably on the chair
. It wasn’t due to her
dress. It was because of her failure. Etienne wasn’t sending for a bath because of his wife. She hadn’t managed to gain enough
courage to even speak with him.

“It would make my heart
so proud to see his heir.”

Giselle’s eyes widened
. Her breath stalled. She was amazed to still be seated, numbly listening to the woman’s prattling.

“
I was so hopeful that he meant to join us this evening. I haven’t even
seen him since the Christmas Mass, and he was so wrapped up, it
could have been anyone. But come, Giselle, my dearest. Dinner is
being served.”

The dowager
duchesse
stood, surprisingly spry for her age and
the amount of foundations she had to be wearing. To Giselle’s
consternation, she realized that Aunt Mimi hadn’t said anything that
mattered.

She hadn’t said a thing about Navarre.

“I’m to escort you to dinner, Giselle.”

She looked sideways and saw black breeches and
above those, a
wine-colored jacket. Oh my. Her heart started hitting painfully against her corset. She should’ve known it would be Navarre.

He bowed before her, and Giselle had to consciously stop her knees
from knocking together as she looked at his arm. It amazed her that
she had that affliction with as many garments as she was wearing. She had to clench her thighs to stop the motion.

Despite everything, the reactions still happened
. It was intolerable.
No matter how many candles she lit or prayers she said. Navarre still affected her.

“You look
very beautiful, Giselle.”

He whispered
it as they preceded everyone into the medium-sized dining room.

Oh heavens
!
The instant joy had to be stopped. She must concentrate on her place. She must recall Scripture. Remember her duty. He called her beautiful!
There wasn’t enough material in the
bodice of her dress to hide a blush. Giselle quickly looked at the
table, and not at her escort.

There was a sculpture of a castle in the midst of the table,
carved from ice. Giselle made herself see it and absorb its
appearance. There was a peacock on the table as well, with steam rising through its
arrangement of feathers. It was just like Louisa had described to her
before at Antilli, and—
…
he said I look beautiful!

I must keep my mind on other things
!

Navarre led her to the head of the table, and a manservant held
the chair out for her. There was a servant behind each of the twelve chairs. Giselle had never been to a dinner like this. She thanked Louisa and Isabelle for their lectures, then. They’d made certain she
always dressed for her lone supper and had perfect table manners. She hadn’t known what it was preparation for, but she was grateful to
them, now.

Navarre lifted her hand to his lips without touching it
. He
didn’t have to. His eyes sent messages down the length of her arm. Giselle only hoped she wasn’t replying with her own.

He pulled out a chair
to her left, and Giselle turned to the other
side, wondering what fool had seated him so close to her. She had to stop it
from happening again. She wasn’t to be near him. She wouldn’t
allow it. He would just have to be seated at the opposite end that
Etienne left vacant.

Etienne…

That was something which she could concentrate on. Aunt
Mimi had mentioned that Etienne ordered a bath. Giselle already
knew it, though. The servants were more than willing to tell everything they
knew. Gerty was a font of information while Giselle had dressed.
She had listened carefully while Isabelle looked sternly at her in the
mirror the entire time.

“You’ve been listening to Aunt Mimi, Giselle,” Navarre
spoke. “I
should have warned you first.”

Giselle turned to him, trying to look more confident than she
felt.

“She probably gave away all our secrets by now.”

He smiled conspiratorially, and Giselle tried to return it. She did. But t
he effort died on her face. In the mellow yellow light from
the chandeliers, the shadow of his lashes reached to his lips. She’d
known his were full and pouty. She’d caught herself wondering what
a kiss from them would feel like. She was ashamed of herself and
yet, unable to do a thing about it.

It was mad.

She already knew
he was devastating. She knew all of it, yet despite her every effort she was unable to tear her gaze away.

“You mustn’t look at me like that, Giselle,” he said, and turned
away.

There wasn’t enough penance for the shame she felt
. Giselle immediately turned to face
the end of the table, the place Etienne should be. That’s when the first hint of self-hate started, growing until it became an ache.
Navarre
shouldn’t have to be the one to point out such things to her.