The Beautiful Ones - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,102
surveying her work, and cut off another rose. The flower landed on her feet, petals as pale as a new moon.
A madness struck her then, and unthinking, Valérie began to hack at all the roses. She cut and cut and cut until not a single rose remained upon its stalk.
When she had finished, her arms bore the traceries of thorns.
CHAPTER 16
Gaétan paced by the tall windows of his office as he read the letter.
His office was considerably larger than Valérie’s, though decorated in the same style. On one wall he had set up several hunting trophies, memories of his visits to the woods near Oldhouse. A deer’s head with a magnificent set of antlers was the central piece, commanding attention.
Gaétan had commissioned a portrait of Valérie to decorate the other wall, and she sat in it in a pale rose dress, with a fan in her hand. The painting should have been in a more visible space, atop the stairs perhaps, but he said he wanted to look at her at all times.
She thought he wished to display her, like the deer’s head. The artist, in an act of perversion, had painted her eyes as flat as those of the taxidermied creatures on the opposite wall, as if to enhance the resemblance.
“How did you come into possession of this?” Gaétan asked.
“I chanced upon Antonina while strolling in the park and offered her a ride home. The letter must have slipped from her purse because I found it on the seat after she stepped out,” Valérie said, the lie coming effortlessly.
He ran a hand through his hair, nodding, and folded the letter. Gaétan knew Nina’s handwriting; there could be no doubt in his mind that it was an authentic piece of correspondence. As for its provenance, he was credulous. She doubted he’d ask more than what he already had. If he spoke to Nina and she contradicted Valérie’s story, Valérie would simply say the girl was being deceitful.
“Gaétan, I had not wanted to tell you this, because I simply did not believe it. But I heard gossip that she left Haduier’s party with Hector Auvray. Such talk, and then this … she will ruin herself.”
“At Haduier’s? Who said that?”
“I’m afraid it was Agnes Haduier herself. Darling, I blame myself. We should have gone to the party and chaperoned her.”
He sat down in one of the white wing chairs placed in front of the windows. “I cannot believe Nina would behave improperly,” Gaétan muttered. “She is a sweet girl.”
“Yes, but a girl nevertheless, a girl who may be easily swayed by talk of love and kisses and throw her whole future away in an instant. Think what might happen, think what they might say.”
Gaétan gave Valérie a worried look. She could see the scenarios dancing in his head. Their names in the papers, the talk of the city. Antonina Beaulieu of Montipouret in a sordid liaison with that man, the entertainer, the talent. Yes, she’d always been odd, and now her bad character was confirmed.
They’d say that, they’d say worse.
“Antonina does not realize that he toys with her. She is like a puppet. He entices her, then discards her at Oldhouse. And now he is back. To finish what he started and stain her name.”
“I should speak to Auvray immediately,” Gaétan said.
Valérie adjusted the long shawl she was wearing, an expensive present Gaétan had bought her three years before. Its vivid greens, golds, and turquoise blues contrasted nicely with her pale face and the whiteness of her dress. Underneath the vibrant cloth, her arms bore the faint traces of the scratches from the roses. She could have explained them away. The shawl was more for her own benefit. She did not want to be reminded.
“Gaétan, no. Do you think that wretch can be spoken with?” Valérie asked.
“Something must be done,” Gaétan protested, looking confused.
“I agree. But I think you should be speaking with Luc Lémy.”
“With Luc?”
“He would be delighted to marry Antonina. He has told me that he loves the dear girl. Gaétan, Nina enjoys his company. Once she is married, she will come to her senses and forget that theater performer.”
Gaétan was relieved at the thought, but only for a second. “I told Nina she might choose her groom. I am not certain she would want to marry Luc,” he said cautiously. “Perhaps he loves her, but she has not told me she loves him. I’d think she would have hinted at it, if she were inclined—”