The Beautiful Ones - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,133

had praised them. You can tell a lady by her hands, she had said. One day, she had promised, Valérie would marry a very wealthy man, she would bring glory to the family, and she would be very happy.

But Valérie hadn’t known how to be happy.

She turned away from the window.

CHAPTER 28

It was a relatively modest wedding, but then again it was put together with haste. The tradition of gifting silver items and exhibiting them upon a long table for a week before the couple wed was eschewed since there was no time to properly monogram the items. In any event, neighbors from the nearby estates came to Oldhouse, as did assorted Beaulieus.

Nina wore a dress of rich yellow satin with a short train, the neckline and sleeves encrusted with crystal and mother-of-pearl. She shunned the veil. Instead, her hair was up, yellow flowers carefully woven into it. The priest made a bit of a fuss about this detail, since it really was not decent for a young woman to get married without a veil, but there was a precedent, since Madelena had gone without a veil as well.

Hector sported a gray suit and a yellow cravat and a single, yellow flower boutonniere, to better match his bride.

Had they been in the city, they would have journeyed to the photographer to have their official portrait taken, and their names would have been published in the newspaper three weeks in anticipation of the wedding, but in the countryside, such things did not matter so much, and, anyway, everyone in Montipouret knew Camille’s youngest daughter was to wed.

The civil ceremony and the religious wedding were quick affairs. The magistrate handled all the paperwork in less than fifteen minutes, and then they went to the church. The fashion was for couples to write elaborate vows, but this couple was minimalist in their declarations because, as Nina had told Hector, no one could stomach to sit inside the church for more than half an hour during the summer months. With gold rings on their fingers, they soon exited the building, and everyone headed back to Oldhouse for the dinner reception.

Since the dining hall could not accommodate all guests and allow space for dancing, they set tables behind the house, the glass and silver gleaming under the afternoon sun. There were five courses, as befitted the occasion, and cakes for dessert.

When the sun went down, they lit the lanterns and it was time to dance. Nina partnered first with Hector, but they were allowed only one dance before she was whisked away by her cousin Gaétan. Then came Étienne Lémy’s turn, who had acted as best man to the groom. It was tradition that the bride dance a total of seven dances with friends and family before she could partner again with her groom.

Hector, therefore, sat patiently and watched Nina twirl around while the guests made toasts to their health. Seven toasts were necessary; that, too, was tradition.

“I shall have to become used to this new outlook of yours,” Étienne said as they held their glasses up for the seventh toast. “You look as happy as a clam.”

“I would think clams cannot be happy, since they are mollusks who spend their days filtering water,” Hector replied.

“It strikes me that your smile resembles one of those simple mollusks, placidly sitting on the ocean floor.”

“I look forward to being a placid man.”

Étienne chuckled at that. Then Nina came to clasp Hector’s hand, and he let her lead him to another dance. It was a long day, but they did not proceed to their room until the moon was high in the sky, and then only after the guests had made half a dozen jokes about the couple because it would not have been a wedding in Montipouret if the young men had not launched into a series of colorful double entendres.

When they reached their room, Nina walked slowly around it, humming and running her hands over the wheat sheaves the younger girls had used to decorate the chamber.

“We have to kiss like this,” she said, holding one of the sheaves between her hands.

He ran a hand down her neck and kissed her deeply, the wheat rustling as she pressed it against his chest and stood on her tiptoes to better reach him. She stayed there, stayed close, her breath hot against his neck.

She whirled away from him and set to undoing the chignon she wore, carefully removing each hairpin and the flowers, placing them upon a table,