The Casquette Girls (28 page)

7
th
April 1728

Sophie continues to live without waking. The nuns pray over her every morning and evening, but I am beginning to fear the worst.

Madame DuFrense does not approve of my spending so much time with the triplets, but their friendship keeps me from the brink of insanity whilst aboard this ship. We read to each other, play cards, or make up silly games to pass the time. Sometimes we gossip – we suspect one of the orphans is having an affair with a sailor! Lisette, or Lise (as she prefers to be called), claims to have seen the silhouette of a man sneaking into said orphan’s room in the middle of the night…

I’m not sure who I would fear the most if they were to be caught – the captain or the Mother Superior, who has a kind face but whom I sometimes think is the one who truly rules the S.S
.
Girond
e
.
I hate to laugh at the misfortunes of others, but at this point, the entertainment of it all would be grand.

It is a pity that we have aboard this ship a well-known opera singer and three sisters talented enough to have sung for the King of France, yet we spend the days and nights with no entertainment. It is my new mission to arrange a performance for everyone on the boat. I believe it will do wonders for the spirit of Martine DuFrense.

Allow me to explain my previous comment. Like me, the triplets are sixteen years of age, and they, too, lost their mother early on, but even worse, they also lost their father and were made wards of the state at the age of seven. At thirteen, they ran away from the orphanage to join a traveling theatre troupe, who eventually received an invitation to perform at the palace. The King loved the audition but especially loved the triplets, and so the whole troupe was invited to become a regular act in his court, and soon they were entertaining the French elite durin
g
soirée
s
at the palace. Lise told me that Cosette is such a talented pianist the Queen herself arranged for private lessons, which caused quite a scandal with the more tenured court musicians.

Papa, for the first time in my life, I wish I had accepted more invitations to the palace—
it’s quite crazy to think that I could have possibly seen a performance! Never would I have guessed in a million years that I would meet girls aboard this ship who were able to trade stories about members of the King’s court. These sisters know far more than any socialite, for they have witnessed so many events, so many parties, so many nights of debauchery.

“I don’t understand,” I told them late one afternoon while we
were braiding each other’s hair. “How did you end up on this ship? Why would you ever want to leave your troupe?”

Their heads shifted like dominos, as if to silently agree on how much information to share, and then Lise admitted with a sigh, “There was a scandal at the palace.”

Minette clarified, “Well, not really a scandal, because nothing had actually happened.”

“It was
a
rumo
r
,” said Cosette, but then Lise explained, “You see, many of the ladies at court envied Cosette. Everyone was jealous of her beauty and her talent.”

Her words made Cosette blush deeply. “They were jealous of
al
l
of us. We are identical, remember?”

Her sisters giggled, and then without a twinge of jealousy, Lise said, “It’s true that we look the same, but you are modest, sister, for it is you whom every man is drawn to.”

Cosette peered out the tiny round window. “Yes, it was me who caused our demise…”

“Oh, don’t be so theatrical,” said Minette. “You know that is not what she meant.”

I understood. All three look identical at first glance, but once you spend time around them, they begin to appear as different as the sun, moon, and stars, because their personalities are in such stark contrast. Lisette is cheery and optimistic, which makes her seem younger; Minette is bookish and shy, which makes her appear delicate; and Cosette is utterly fearless both with her actions and her tongue, yet somehow everything comes out of her mouth in flowery song. It is easy to see how any man would vow to follow her to the end of the Earth. I could imagine the ladies in court, whose riches make them bitter and plump, hating any girl with Cosette’s magnetism, especially if she also had intelligence or talent, of which she has both.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” Cosette said. “Once a few of the ladies got it into their head that we were to be removed from court, it was only a matter of time.”

“We’re lucky we got out with our heads,” said Lisette.

“What do you mean?” I asked, for that seemed a little extreme, even for the French.

Minette pulled me next to her on the bed. “Those women did everything they could to have us removed. They went to work digging up our past. You see, Adeline, we had been traveling with our troupe under the name
of Les Sœurs d'O
r
.
”

“Because of your golden hair?”

“Precisely. But when the women of court discovered our birth name was really Monvoisin, suddenly one of the servants turned up dead. When the doctor announced that the cause of death was poison, someone conveniently announced our relation to
La Voisi
n
.
The women of the court demanded we be sent to the guillotine, but luckily for us the King’s mistress understood what was going on and begged him to have mercy on us. The King consented, and so we found ourselves being smuggled out of the palace, each of us with
a
cassett
e
containing a wedding dress and dowry, to join the girls being sent to marry the townsmen in
La Nouvelle-Orléans
.”

“Lucky us,” said Cosette.

Knowing the triplets were descendants of Catherine Deshayes Monvoisin, therefore connected by blood relation to
l’affaire des poisons
, only made me sympathize even more with their plight and feel closer to them. Living with the reputation of those that came before us is just one more thing in common that we shared.

10
th
April 1728

I knew deep within my soul that it was bound to happen. Tonight was the night, Papa.

Despite the late hour, I was in the Monvoisin sisters’ cabin. Minette was teaching me how to mend my skirt and Cosette was writing in her diary when Lise burst through the door.

“He’s here! He’s here!” she yelled, but then clammed up when she realized her sisters weren’t alone.

She looked at Minette with duress, who asked, “Who is here?”

The question was not enough permission to get Lise to speak. Worried, Cosette wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulder and sat her on the bed next to me. Minette dropped to the floor in front of us, took her sister’s hand, and asked in a hushed voice, “Are you trying to say what I think you—”

“
Oui
! He’s here. The man from the dock is here, on this boat.”

“What man from the dock?” I asked, trying not to become agitated by the sudden cryptic atmosphere.

“Shhhhhhh!” all three of them hissed at once.

“What man from the dock?” I whispered, my curiosity now fully piqued, but again, Lise looked to her sisters, unsure whether or not to divulge the answer.

The idea of having secrets between us broke my heart. I knew the possible implications of revealing myself to them – you have warned me of the consequences ever since I was a child, but as they continued to debate my trustworthiness in hushed voices, my shoulders burned. I sprang off the bed, yelling, “I cannot stand for there to be any secrets between us!” My words shook, knowing what I was about to do, although deep down inside, I trusted Cosette, Minette and Lisette completely.

As I raised my arm to a small iron candelabr
um on the wall, my heart pounded so hard it felt like my chest might rip open. Without moving an inch, I ripped the iron fixture from the wooden plank. The room became perfectly silent as the dusty, candleless piece of metal flew into my palm. I grasped it with my left hand and cupped the top of the metal. Almost instantly, the light shining between the cracks of my fingers glowed so warm I had to move my hand and expose the flame to the wide-eyed girls.

I looked at each of them and then said, “You know my secret. Now, what man on the dock?”

I watched the reflection from the fire flicker in Cosette’s golden-brown eyes. As her smile grew, I knew things would never be the same, nor would I ever again be alone with my secret.

October 25
th

“Don’t rush. Precision is key. The more you learn to control your movements, the better you’ll be able to control the outcome of the piece,” said my father, a faint drone in the back of my head. Sitting in his studio, surrounded by tools used to work with fire, I couldn’t stop thinking about Adeline. Two brass candlesticks he had made before the Storm, now hidden in a pile of metal awaiting polishing, kept grabbing my attention. I refused to let myself look at them, fearing a flame might suddenly ignite due to my own lack of control.
You’re being ridiculous.

“Ha. I thought
control
was for the scientists,” Isaac joked.

“There is a fine line between art and science when it comes to working with metal. Blurring the two dates all the way back to the Bronze Age… which is the perfect transition to today’s lesson on casting. Take out your wax sculptures.”

I peeked at Isaac’s piece. Even in the cobalt-blue wax, the perfectly sculpted feather looked real – he must have spent hours scraping out each little hairline wisp. For someone with such an abrasive personality, he certainly had a delicate hand when it came to his art. It was going to look amazing once it was cast in silver: this lesson’s metal of choice.

My fingers were still raw from accidentally scraping my skin with the metal files while carving my wax star. I’d become obsessive over the symmetry of the eight points, wanting the little lines to match up perfectly like patchwork. Next to his piece, it now looked basic, but I wanted to replace the missing star on Adeline Saint-Germain’s necklace— on my necklace.
I’ll do something more complicated next time,
I reassured myself, looking at the flames I had drawn in my sketchpad. My thumb rubbed over the rough impression the original star had left behind on the medallion. The little wax sculpture fit perfectly over it. I envisioned what the silver version would look like after I cast it, and then came to a realization that made my breath cut short.

“I am such an idiot,” I whispered.

“What?” asked Isaac, looking up from his carving tools.

“Nothing,” I snapped. I smiled to make up for the tone. “Just talking to myself.”

“Right.” He raised one eyebrow and then went back to his feather. My father was mixing plaster. I grabbed my phone and quickly banged out a text to Brooke, who still hadn’t returned any of my messages since our call.

Adele 3:30 p.m.
Hi! I know this is going to sound really random, but do you still have the star charm I gave you a couple of years ago? Is it with you in L.A.?

A few years ago, I had found a star-shaped charm in an old cigar box, along with a bunch of other buttons, lose stones, and metal scraps that had been collected in my dad’s studio over the decades.
An eight-pointed star char
m
,
if my memory served me correctly
.
I had fallen in love with it instantly. My father taught me how to polish it, and, afterwards, I didn’t take it off for months. Not until freshman year, when Brooke was chosen to sing the “Star Spangled Banner” at the Superdome before a Saints game. It was the only time I’d ever seen her nervous before a performance. She was terrified. I took it off, wrapped it around her neck, and told her she was going to be a star one day. She killed it on stage and claimed the star as her good luck charm. Afterwards, my father surprised me with the sun charm currently hanging around my chain. I hadn’t really taken it off since. Surely she had taken the star with her to Los Angeles?

I texted her again:

Adele 3:36 p.m.
It’s kind of important. Just want to know if it’s here in the city. If not, maybe you could mail it back to me? I know you don’t need luck anymore (not that you ever did).

What else could I say? “I am looking for clues about the vampires I accidentally released from a convent,” seemed slightly out of the question, although it may have elicited a quicker response.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed.

Brooke 3:4
6 p.m.
Just b/c I’ve been busy, you want your necklace back? Why?

Adele 3:47 p.m.
Umm… it’s kind of complicated. Do you have it? My dad is teaching me to cast, so I can make you a better one, completely made by moi!