Chapter 30 #3
“He called at the Ritz last night, when I was looking all over the place for you.” There was only a hint of irritation in his voice, and she knew, he was allowing to show less than what he was truly feeling. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”
The words came to her lips so easily. “It was important,” she lied, sinking her nails into her palms instead of her wrist.
“Last night was too,” he said emotionlessly. “Anyway, I only came to return these.” Digging into his jacket, he pulled out the satin gloves she had been wearing. “You seemed to have dropped them.”
Celine extended her arm halfheartedly and took them with trembling fingers. Jacques’s eyes fell on the watch at her wrist, but Celine quickly hid her hand in the flaps of her dress and muttered an almost silent “Thank you.” She couldn’t bear to discuss any more of Bastien tonight.
“Jaques—”
He cut her off with a shake of his head. He didn’t want to hear it. He reached for the handle again, but didn’t open the door.
“Did you know I was going to propose?”
No more lies now. She had left for a reason last night, and not the one Bastien had given him. She had been suffocating in that room. He needed to see that.
“Of course I knew, Jacques.” She hadn’t meant for the words to come out harshly, but that build up of anger and anxiety she had felt the other night had returned. “Everything about our relationship had been planned since the first day. Including this proposal. Of course I knew.”
Celine had just wished it wouldn’t have happened at all.
Jacques’s face tightened as if she had slapped him. “Then I suppose you know I will propose again. This Saturday.” He finally opened the door and peered at her over his shoulder. “And you will say yes.”
“Saturday… The final round is on Saturday.”
“Then you should have thought better than to run away last night.”
Celine stared at him for a moment’s heartbeat. She could already feel that leash Bastien had been talking about choking her. “Don’t you think it’s rather silly to marry just because our parents say so?”
“Do not act though you can escape this any more than I can, Celine.” Jacques faced her. “I made my sacrifice for this relationship. It’s time you made yours.”
Without waiting for her response, he entered the car, pulling the door behind him with a thud that sent a shiver through her. Then he vanished down the cul-de-sac and, numbly, Celine dragged herself inside.
The house was awfully quiet. Madame LeBeau was reading by the feeble light coming from the balconies, enjoying a few moments of peace when Celine appeared before her.
She glimpsed at her daughter over the rim of her glasses, pinching her lips.
The pile of gifts from last night had been arranged into a neat tower by her chair. She placed her book on top.
“What was the idea, Celine? I spent weeks preparing your birthday party—we all expected the proposal to happen last night, and you left just like that!"
Her throat tightened. “I’m sorry, maman. I only—”
“Yes, yes, Jacques explained everything, since my own daughter couldn’t have the courtesy to do the same,” she hissed. “Well, there is nothing to be done about that now. Go upstairs and rest. Your father will be home soon for dinner, we will talk then.”
Celine couldn’t bring herself to lift her head and look her mother in the eye, fearing she would crumble right there and then.
She doubted Jacques had told her about the competition, otherwise she would be at her throat right now.
But Celine couldn’t bother to inquire about it either.
Those dark thoughts of disappearing off the face of the earth returned and all she craved was to slam the door of her room shut and turn on the phonograph to drown her sorrow.
What had she expected—that there would be no repercussions? That she wouldn’t have to lose what she already had in order to get what she wanted?
She found Francine in her room, sitting on the edge of the bed, mending a button on one of Monsieur LeBeau’s shirts. Milady was purring on the pillows. Her ears twitched when Celine entered.
“Thank heavens, Mademoiselle,” Francine sighed. “Your mother has been looking for you all day…”
Celine’s brow wrinkled as a sob finally escaped her.
“Celine?”
Celine dropped to her knees at the foot of her bed and buried her face into Francine’s lap.
Her entire frame shuddered as she cried all her heartache out.
Everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours rose in the back of her throat like bile and though she tried to force it away, force her eyes shut until she saw stars, the images were still there.
Bastien’s voice was there too, telling her he couldn’t love her, over and over and over again.
Then it shifted into Jacques’s flat tone, telling her to say yes, to sacrifice all she had worked for.
The voices eventually evaporated when Francine started humming a soothing tune. She smoothed a hand over Celine’s hair, the way she had done ever since Celine was eight and crying over minor aches, and murmured that everything would be alright.