Page 11 of The Beautiful Ones

Cécile had been promised to him.

The arrangement had been made before I came to Virginia, although I had heard enough of it afterward to understand that neither Cécile nor Commander Vale had objected.

That alone distinguished their engagement from many I had observed.

Cécile had never spoken of loving him. I did not believe she had. Love seemed too extravagant a word for what existed between them.

She had trusted him.

Once, during my first winter at Le Champ des Fleurs, she had written that Nathaniel never hurried her when she spoke. He did not finish her sentences, laugh when a word refused to come or pretend not to notice while watching every struggle. He waited.

Cécile had thought he would make a gentle husband.

For a young woman whose future would ultimately be decided by other people, perhaps gentleness had seemed enough.

Then something changed.

No one had ever explained precisely what Commander Vale had done.

His invitations disappeared first. Men who once sought his company began avoiding him. Madame stopped mentioning the engagement, and Monsieur removed Vale’s name from conversation as thoroughly as if the man had died.

Within weeks, the arrangement with Cécile was ended.

Then Vale himself vanished from Virginia.

Dinah gathered the remains of Cécile’s breakfast and began arranging the same cup and plate as though their position upon the tray had suddenly become important.

“Best leave Commander Vale’s name alone,” she said.

“Why?”

Dinah looked toward the open doorway. “Because walls carry words where they ought not go.”

The warning was not an answer, but the fear in her face prevented me from pressing her.

Cécile moved toward the door. Dinah did not block her, although her hands tightened around the breakfast tray.

“Your father will not tell you anything today, Miss Cécile.”

“I w-want to f-find—”

“I know,” Dinah said softly. “But going down there will not make him willing to answer.”

Cécile pointed toward the hallway, her face growing red as she struggled to force the words through lips that refused to cooperate with her.

“She has a right to know what has happened,” I said.

Even as I said it, I knew what rights were worth in that house when the person claiming them possessed no power to make anyone listen.

Cécile knew it too. Her arm fell to her side, but the anger did not leave her face.

Cécile returned to the dressing table and sat down with enough force to make the perfume bottles tremble. I retrieved the blue gown from beneath the bed, shook the dust from its skirts and spread it across the coverlet.

“The blue has already suffered for its crimes,” I said. “We may as well wear it.”

The corner of Cécile’s mouth lifted, and Dinah placed a biscuit upon a small plate before carrying it to her.

“If you can manage two bites,” she said quietly.