Chapter 10
The Importance of Being Earnest
“Maman, don't you think a Marie Antoinette themed birthday might raise the wrong expectations?”
Madame LeBeau abstained from facing her daughter. She was entirely absorbed in picking through the selected assortment of pastel coloured dragée for the party favour. “Such as?”
Celine considered her wearily. “The guests might expect a guillotine instead of cake.”
The weekend had arrived quickly, and though her mind was glued to the competition, Celine was glad their second challenge had finished early. It provided a reprieve from lying to her mother that morning when she had insisted they go out to make reservations for Celine’s birthday.
“Please, darling,” Madame LeBeau sighed, handing the plate of pink, green, and white almonds to the confectioner she had hired.
“You're being absurd.” She settled the order for one hundred bags, scheduled a date for cake tasting, and exited the store satisfied.
“Sure, Marie Antoinette had her faults, but you can't deny her impeccable taste, can you?”
“I don’t think everyone will see it that way.”
“Oh, what does everyone know.” Madame LeBeau thinned her lips. “And that reminds me—I need to schedule an appointment with the head journalist of that magazine, what’s its name…Anyways, they must come and take a few proper photos, don’t you think?”
Celine looked down at her gloved hands and supplied a tired nod as she slumped against the brown leather seat of their car.
Shopping bags took up most of the space on the seats and more were stuffed beneath them.
The heel of her shoe got caught in one of the bags and she almost kicked Ana?s, who was sitting opposite her, while trying to wiggle it out.
“Of course, maman,” Celine grunted, still moving her leg around. The wrapping bow was being stubborn. She bent at her waist to push the bags away. “As you—wish.”
“Perfect.” Madame LeBeau waved at their driver to get his attention. “Place Vend?me, Charles. We will walk from there, but stay nearby to take our bags if we buy anything else.”
“Of course, madame.”
Celine’s eyes widened. “Place Vend?me?”
Just then, the engine rumbled to a start and their driver backed out. Celine didn’t have time to brace herself and she toppled forward, slamming her forehead against Ana?s’s knees.
“Are you okay?” Ana?s only appeared amused. The soft mid-morning sun was warming half of her face, the other half was shadowed by her hat. But her hazel eyes were unmistakably glossed with that glint of hidden knowledge. She knew something Celine did not.
“I’m fine,” Celine said, rubbing her forehead. “The car moved too fast.”
“What is up with you today?” Madame LeBeau regarded her suspiciously. “You have looked pale since we left home. And you’ve been floundering about the stores like there’s something else on your mind. This is for your birthday party, you know,” she chided. “You ought to pay more attention.”
Her mother’s excitement was a tad too much for just a birthday soirée that was two months away.
As much as Celine loved extravagance and glamour, she knew a party held at the Ritz wasn’t going to be just a party.
Ana?s had only confirmed her suspicions when she had shown up at her doorstep that morning and whispered that Jacques planned to propose that same night in front of everyone.
Nevertheless, Celine’s inattention wasn’t the result of that. The competition would already be over by then and, assuming she won, marrying Jacques wouldn’t be necessary anymore.
Celine was, however, reeling with anxiety over the face that every boutique and atelier they had visited that morning had been in close proximity to Maison Baudelaire.
The risk of running into one of the contestants from the competition had been too high.
Shopping now at Place Vend?me was going to be, by all technicalities, a disaster.
“She is probably thinking about Jacques,” Ana?s chimed. “He does the same, aaaaall day. He nearly toppled down the stairs this morning because he was admiring a photo of you.”
“You exaggerate.”
“Do I? He has a bruised elbow because of it.”
Celine started tugging at her gloves, itching to scratch her wrist. It had been glowing red all morning from all the excuses she had tried to make to get out of shopping with her mother.
“Well,” Celine said, catching her mother’s glare and dropping her hands in her lap. “Tell him I’m sorry my beauty is a hazard to his health.”
Madame LeBeau tsked. “Tell him yourself. Aren’t you two meeting later today?”
”We are.” Celine sat up straighter. “At the races.”
Ana?s nodded along. “Jacques is competing for the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe.”
“Wish him good luck for me.” Madame LeBeau’s perky nose twitched. “You know I’m not a fan of horse races…”
Celine blocked her mother’s voice, focusing entirely on the smug look Ana?s was giving her.
It was almost as if her skull had been pried open and her friend was digging in for the thoughts it contained.
It was time, Celine supposed; she had to tell Ana?s about the competition or risk getting caught in this thin web of lies she was walking on.
The car finally idled to a stop.
Celine stepped out after her mother, taking a deep breath to dislodge the anxiety creeping in her chest. Place Vend?me was buzzing with pedestrians and trucks unloading their shipment boxes for some of the stores.
The latter seemed to have caught her mother’s eye, because Madame LeBeau barely managed a brisk, “Be right back,” before she dipped into the Boué Soeurs boutique to be the first to browse their new products.
Celine, meanwhile, felt herself being steered away by Ana?s who had looped their arms together.
“There’s a rumour going around,” she said breezily, sliding her eyes over her friend as though she knew something Celine didn’t.
Which was probably true. There was nothing that could go undetected by Ana?s.
The only problem was that she lacked the ability to keep that knowledge to herself—gossip slipped from her lips like tea from a chipped cup.
“Intelligence agents have less information about what happens in France than you do,” Celine jested.
Ana?s waved a delicate hand in the air. “France has nothing to do with this. It’s about you.”
In her periphery, Celine saw her mother inside the shop, gesticulating at a dress. She pulled Ana?s further away from hearing range. “What rumour about me?”
“That Rue Cambon has suddenly become appealing to you recently.” Celine stiffened, but said nothing. Maybe Ana?s didn’t know. “How’s the competition going? Coming up number one, I hope?”
Celine’s heart stopped. Her entire body halted; her muscles strained to move like the rusted cogwheels of a clock that hasn’t ticked in a while.
A beat passed. Then her palm shot to cover Ana?s’ lips. “Shhh.” She threw a look over her shoulder to make sure that her mother was still inside Boué Soeurs. “My mother doesn’t know. No one, actually, knows I got in.”
“I know that too,” Ana?s supplied evenly.
“How long—who—” Celine cut herself short. There was only one other person who could have told her and who should be preparing for a great deal of torture once she got her hands on him. “Do forgive me, Ana?s, but I will be murdering one of your brothers this evening.”
“You have my blessing,” she replied, and began rummaging through her purse.
Fishing out a box of chocolate the confectionary store had gifted them, she popped a truffle into her mouth.
“I suggest looking up medieval torture devices for better results. Although, there’s a rumour that Bastien cannot withstand being tickled, so you can start there, then escalate. ”
Celine offered a genuine smile at the new information she had garnered, but neither the light jokes nor the thought of throttling Bastien soothed her anxiety and guilt. The emotions had been warring inside her for days now.
“Can you forgive me for not telling you earlier?” she broached. “I didn’t want to risk my mother finding out.”
“I figured as much. I know I’m infamous for being a bottomless pit of rumours, but”—Ana?s mimed turning a lock over her lips and handed the invisible key to Celine—“I also know when to shut up. Besides, this one comes with perks. If you win, I get haute couture for free. For life.”
Celine rolled her eyes.
“And I won’t tell Jacques either. I doubt he would be thrilled to learn you and Bastien have been spending so much time together.”
So she knew about that too. Well, it made no difference. Their time together was out of necessity. Celine was as thrilled to work with Bastien as she would have been if he were a toad.
“Thank you,” she prompted. “And you will have to keep it a secret only until—”
“The less I know the better.” Ana?s paused to swallow the rest of her chocolate. “If you need me to keep a secret, I will. Just because I enjoy gossiping about my brothers doesn’t mean I would do that to my sister. If I had one.”
“You will once Jacques and I get engaged,” Celine assured her, glad that her predicament would bring one good thing in her life. If her stupid heart wasn’t so stubborn to give way to him, at least she’d have Ana?s…
Her thoughts trailed off as one of the cars that was passing by on full speed from the main avenue slowly pulled up alongside them.
The windows were tinted slightly darker, but mounds of round and square gift boxes, beautifully tied up with ribbons, were distinctly visible as they laid scattered about the back seat.
A second later, the door opened to let Coco out, wearing one of her extravagant designs.
Celine stiffened.
“I cannot get enough of this street,” Coco exclaimed in English before switching to French. Her heels clicked cheerfully on the pavement as she approached them in a breeze of flowery perfume. “It would be even better if they built more shops around here, don’t you think Mademoiselle LeBeau?”