Past Lives (2 page)

“If you dislike this arena so heavily, I wonder why you bother to spend any time here at all. I’m sure there are plenty of places filled with the character traits you seem to desire.” He quirked a brow at this.

“You are right, of course. This is a vapid world full of out of touch morons. I fear the rug will be swept right out from under them, and they won’t even see it coming,” he said, his eyes distant. I was too scared to ask what he might mean. I didn’t want to believe that whatever he was talking about could be true. He returned his attention to me as though coming out of a trance.

“I stay here because Jacqueline has it in her head that this is where you go to belong. I’ve tried again and again to convince her that she is being a fool, yet here we are—even after today, when she thought she had finally found a friend,” he finished, his accusation plain. I glanced down at my toes, skilled enough to keep moving through the dance.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“What?” he asked, though he had clearly heard.

“I’m sorry,” I said more loudly, glaring at his amused expression.

“I don’t think I’m the one who needs to hear that, but it certainly helps,” he said flippantly, twirling me around and making my head spin. I had never been questioned by anyone, ever, in my entire life. For some reason, when Bastien did it I found that I hated and loved it at the same time…which confused the dickens out of me.

“You don’t have to be like them, J. We all have a choice in who we wish to be…being accepted by these people is not the pinnacle of existence,” he said, unable to hide the bitterness in his velvety voice. I raised my chin.

“I am already well accepted by every member of this room, sir. You know my family crest.”

His expression turned painfully blank, and I found myself regretting my display of pride…something I had never once had cause to regret before.

“Indeed I do,” he said, silently finishing the rest of the dance before bowing once more and depositing me back by Giselle, who was drinking her third glass of champagne. He kissed my hand one last time, and I realized then just how hot the room had become. Before he could finally walk away I couldn’t help but call out.

“Monseigneur!” he turned and waited. I plowed on before I lost my nerve. “Your lessons in morality are most fascinating. Perhaps you could grant me another session some other time.”

He smiled, his mirth radiating from his eyes. Still, it was only a smirk—a half promise in the making.

“Apologize to my sister. Then I shall consider another lesson.”

And with that, he was gone through the throng. Giselle hiccupped.

“He may be low class, but he
is
handsome. Too bad you could never be with him.”

I found my eyes fixed on the part of the crowd he had just vacated, my mind suddenly a blur.

Yes…it was too bad indeed.

Chapter Three

A Lesson in Character

French dances tended to go all night long, so my experience with the elusive and mysterious Bastien had to be banished quickly from my mind as many more partners began to swarm my list. Most of them were painted dandies, their faces pale and high heels clicking. That this was the pinnacle of beauty had always astounded me, even more so knowing that the fashion would transfer from men to women like a secondhand cloak. Of course, none of them were really worth my time. To my father’s chagrin, I was determined to be picky about my suitors, though the older I got my approach became less determination and a little more desperation. To find someone in your class when you are literally the oldest and most respected family in France (at least, that was our opinion) was exceedingly difficult.

One portly marquis in particular kept sneaking his way onto my dance card. In between my other dances, I noticed him drinking more and more. He probably would have been better suited to Giselle. Finally, towards the end of the night, it was everything I could do to keep him from crushing my aching feet, and I finally had to shove him into a chair to get him to leave me alone. I caught Jacqueline’s eye nearby and waved her over, giving my best apology for my previous insult.

“You think being called fat is the worst I’ve had to deal with here?” she laughed. I could tell by the glittery look in her eyes that she wasn’t entirely sober either. Either way, I was glad the liquid gave her the will to forgive me freely and without consequence. We chatted amiably about nothing in particular until I couldn’t keep my yawns more than a few minutes apart.

“Go to bed, J. Your makeup looks satanic,” Jacqueline laughed. I stuck my tongue out at her…a frightfully childish thing to do, but it was refreshing to know that she wouldn’t judge me. Instead, she giggled and stuck her tongue out right back at me, throwing us into peals of champagne-induced laughter. Wiping a tear from my eye and seeing the gob of paint that now stained my glove, I pressed myself out of a chair and waved goodnight.

I ran one hand along the painted wall for support down a corridor, unsure whether it would lead to my room or not. Exhaustion plus alcohol led me to a clouded place, where down was up and left was right. Who wouldn’t get lost in that bloody labyrinth? I caught my foot on the hall carpet and stumbled forward, throwing my hands out to break my fall and collapsing into a heap on the ground. I instantly cursed at just how difficult it would be to get back up again in my dress when a pair of meaty hands wrapped around my middle, causing the whale bone of my corset to dig deep into my belly, making me gasp.

The world spun as the hands turned me around, where I was faced with the drunk marquis. I registered slowly how strong his grip was around my waist before his rotten, distilled breath blew right into my face. I recoiled, but was held firm.

“Well, if it isn’t the picky little countess,” he breathed, leaning in and kissing my amply exposed neck. A shiver of distaste ran down my spine.

“You will unhand me now and allow me to resume passage back to my room,” I demanded in my most entitled tone. Oddly, this had no effect. His lips began to sink lower towards my breasts.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he mumbled as his lips trailed down further, his disgusting hands holding me firmly in place. I began to squirm, but my corset only dug deeper into my ribs, rendering me helpless.

“Don’t fight it, mademoiselle. I know this is what you really want.” He shifted his hand upward so that my left breast was trapped between his head and his hand. Panic began to rise from my clenched stomach, bile forming in my throat as the champagne began to protest at being squeezed too tightly in my belly.

“Please, let me go!” I cried, my voice rising an octave before his other hand closed over my mouth and he backed me against the wall. His eyes were lustful and full of malice, like he wanted to teach me a lesson. His hand tasted like salt and sweat, its texture sticky and moist as a slug. I did the only thing I could think of and bit down as hard as I could. His hand flew back before rising above me to deliver a blow. I closed my eyes in anticipation, lowering my head to soften the blow.

With my eyes closed tightly, I didn’t see right away who grabbed the meaty arm and flung the marquis backwards against the other wall. The fresh rush of free air was enough to pry open my eyes, where the sight before me caused me to lose feeling in my legs.

Bastien easily wrapped the man’s arm around his back and forced him to the floor in agony. The hallway was small enough that I could hear every word he said.

“Now if only your father had taught you how to treat a woman, we wouldn’t be here right now, eh monsieur?” Bastien asked, his voice laden with repressed anger. To show this, he pulled harder on the marquis’ arm, causing him to cry out a mumbled response. Pulling tighter, Bastien refused to let loose.

“I’m so sorry, monsieur, but you’re going to have to speak up so my lady can hear you.”

“I said it won’t happen again,” the man blurted, his face a violent shade of puce. I was afraid he would lose his lunch right there on the king’s carpet. Bastien was unaffected by this, in a way that was terrifying and alluring all at once.

“I certainly hope not…for your sake,” he said coldly, releasing the imprisoned arm and stepping back as the marquis rose clumsily and stomped away, attempting and failing to maintain any form of dignity as he rubbed his injured arm. Bastien stared after him, his shoulders hunched like a tiger ready to pounce, until the marquis disappeared. Then, releasing the stress from his body, he turned to me and knelt down delicately by my side.

“And you, little countess? Are you alright?” I shivered at his use of the term my attacker had just used. Then I began to cry. Still kneeling, Bastien pulled a kerchief from his pocket and handed it to me, watching as I dabbed daintily at the corners of my eyes and nose. After a moment, I grew uncomfortable at the way he was staring at me, and I reached for any conversation piece I could think of.

“How did you learn to apprehend a man like that?” I asked. “It’s hardly respectable,” I added, wincing at how rude I could be. I could have been ruined by the whims of a drunk if it wasn’t for the man before me, and yet my defenses still told me to push him away. If I liked him too much, it would be too painful when we could never marry. He had to know that, in spite of his advances. Instead of answering my question, he began to lightly probe my face where the marquis had pressed his hand.

“You have a small bruise growing on your cheek,” he said softly. “I’ve never seen such delicate skin.”

I quickly pulled his hands from my face and held them firmly down. This forced him to finally pay attention to
me
, and not my potential injuries. He sighed.

“My family is military, remember? I’m a trained soldier.”

“That can hardly be true, considering that you attend the king’s ball as a member of the elite,” I said. Why was I being such a jerk? For some reason, this made him smirk, which made his ridiculously handsome dimple display all its glory. I fought down the urge to rub my thumb against it and see just how delicate
his
skin was. He shrugged before standing.

“I’m just lucky, I guess.”

I stared up at him, unsure whether my legs and weary feet would allow me to rise. When he realized my predicament, he held out his hand for me to grasp. As I reached out to him, I felt the piercing sting of whalebone sticking into my rib. The marquis’ violence had displaced it, causing unbearable pain.

“What is it?” Bastien asked, concerned. I was too mortified to tell him, but my posture seemed to give me away.

“Corset loose?” He asked, as though we were discussing the weather. I stared at him, helpless, unable to actually say the words to a man, let alone a near stranger. Ever the surprise, Bastien bent down and gently lifted me into his arms.

“What are you doing?!” I demanded, secretly thrilled at the sensation. Our faces were closer than ever.

“Rescuing a damsel in distress. In fact, that’s what I’ve been doing the whole time, if you haven’t noticed. You’re really not that obtuse, are you J?”

I would have slapped him if the action wouldn’t have stabbed me in the gut. Instead I sat comfortably in his strong, soldierly embrace as he carried me silently back through another hallway to my actual bedroom. I couldn’t believe how off course I had been…probably wouldn’t have made it back into my room at all. And where were the servants to guide us? Probably drunk, I thought spitefully.

When we finally reached my room, Bastien knocked quietly, and my maid answered.

“What’s happened?! Mlle J, are you alright?” my maid bustled and panicked as Bastien strolled right into my bedroom for the second time that night and laid me gently on my bed. I could have died, and if anyone had seen us I would never recover from the scandal. I avoided his gaze as much as possible, acutely aware of just how inappropriate the situation was, and still just drunk enough not to care. Bastien took the trouble to tell my maid that my corset was digging into my side before making a last attempt at conversation.

“Well my lady…I’m glad to see your honor intact.”

“You mean the honor that is still at risk by you standing in my bedroom at the crack of dawn? Please take care that no one sees you leave this place as you exit.”

He frowned. What was he expecting? To be treated like an equal to me? He waited for the beat of a moment before turning to make his exit. Even still…

“Bastien?” I said, meeting his eyes for the first time since we came in. He waited.

“Thank you. For what you did. It was most gallant of you,” I said quietly, all contrition. Regardless of the fact that I was supposed to treat him as an inferior, he still provided me a great service that night. I also found that I didn’t really want him to go, which was an entirely new sensation for me. He gazed down upon me, an inner battle waging in his eyes. He then fell to one knee by my bedside and spoke fervently.

“I know that you think your birth has placed you above all others, and I know you’ve been raised to think that way. Still, I see someone more behind your eyes, someone of value. I hope that someday, you will grow to see that woman as well.”

Rising from his knees, Bastien then made his final exit, my bewildered gaze on his broad, masculine back. Even as my maid began to unlace the dress from my body, relieving my inner organs and allowing me to breathe freely, I stared at my closed door.

And I wondered—could he be right?

Chapter
Four

Gossip

I woke to a fervent knocking on my door. The midday sun glared through my gossamer curtains, and I winced at the light before rolling onto my stomach with a pillow over my head. With a burst my bedroom door flew open, and in came Jacqueline, all dressed for afternoon tea.

“J! Are you still asleep—how can you sleep at all? My brother told me you were attacked last night!”

She had entirely too much energy for someone coming off of an all-night party. I cracked open an eye at her, realizing that I didn’t remember falling asleep or washing up. I could now tell that my face had been scrubbed, though a clump of eye makeup still clung stubbornly to my lid, making it hard to blink. My maid came in right behind Jacqueline, fervent apologies tossed at me and glares of disapproval cast at Jacqueline. To my surprise, I was actually amused by this.

“Why on earth are you smiling? You could have been ruined! And of course the marquis is telling everyone what a slut you are.”

This sank in slowly through my clouded, hungover brain, but when it did…

“What?!”

Jacqueline wore a mixture of concern and delight on her face, which was annoying. She looked far more excited at being the first to tell me than she was sympathetic to my plight. She continued, breathless.

“Oh yes. The minute everyone woke up he’s been spreading the tale of how you tried to seduce him in a corridor, and how Bastien had to drag you to your bedroom, and that no one knows whether or not he stayed the night…”

“Enough!” I cried, desperate for a moment’s peace. So the whole court knew that I was a whore, did they? I wondered dismally what the queen thought…my second day at Versailles and already a horrible reputation. And how had the marquis known that I had been carried to my room? Panic began to blossom in my chest, tears threatening to wail their way out. Jacqueline’s expression had turned helpless, and of course there was nothing she could do. We would be the two most unpopular women at court, I was sure of it. She reached out to stroke my back gently.

“It’ll be alright, J. We’ll just endure this piece of gossip until the next thing happens. People love the next big story,” she cajoled, her eyes wide with panic and sympathy. I moaned into the pillow, my head pounding. I would never leave the room again. After a few minutes, Jacqueline sighed.

“You know if you hide from them, they’ll just believe the marquis, right? You are above his rank in every possible way. You must put yourself together and stand your ground,” she said quietly. I tilted my body so that I could look up at her. Staring down at her hands, she made no move to return my gaze. I found my voice.

“That’s what you do, isn’t it? Every day you are berated and teased, and you just take it,” I said, the wonder seeping its way from my heart and into my feeble mind. This girl that I had already insulted, already cast judgment upon, sat inside herself every day just hoping that someday her perseverance would pay off and she would be accepted by the court. Looking at her from this angle, she had three chins, and dots of sweat prickled her upper lip. In a shallow world, she would hold no place beyond that of court jester.

I sighed, suddenly deeply depressed for us both, but knowing that she was absolutely right. Without coming out in complete confidence, no one would believe me to be the perfectly virginal aristocrat that I was. And let’s not forget how much better I was than everyone else, thanks to my money. Slowly, very slowly, I placed my hands palm down beneath me and rose to a sitting position on my bed, scooting over to sit next to Jacqueline. Still unable to look me in the eye, she asked, “Did my brother really save you last night, J?”

I couldn’t help myself. I reached over and grasped her hands, squeezing my friendship into them. Finally, she looked up, her expression unreadable.

“Yes,” I said. “He was excellent. And I was horrible. Seems to be a theme with us,” I finished lamely, an attempt to lighten a horrible situation. She smirked.

“He likes you, you know. I’ve never seen him stop in his tracks like that for anyone, and he stared at you the whole night while you were dancing. That’s probably how he knew the marquis was on your trail.”

I squashed down the guilt I felt at her words…especially because it mingled with a much stronger emotion that I was uncomfortable with. Instead of responding, I straightened out my nightgown and began to rise, my maid taking the cue that it was time to prep me for afternoon tea.

“Where will we be facing the day then?” I asked, slipping into my usual routine of being waited on hand and foot, every demand answered without question. Jacqueline rose as well, taking the hint and preparing her departure…though suspicion had snuck its way into her eyes. I ignored it.

“Out by the fountains, they’ve set up some tents and tables. I believe the queen herself might even stop in,” she finished excitedly. I squared my shoulders, preparing for the worst.

“Well then, if you’ll excuse me. I have some prep work to do.”

***

A while later, dressed in my most flattering afternoon gown—a lighter piece of delicate white with pink roses sewn into the sleeves and hem—I held my shoulders back and my head high as I made my way to the fountains at the back of Versailles. As I stepped from a gold plated doorway, a servant immediately arrived by my side with my matching parasol and raised it above my head. I had taken great care to powder my face a little heavier so that the bruise from the night before would not reveal itself. I walked two paces more slowly, the better to prevent sweat from giving me away through exertion.

Blinking in the sunlight, I stared out at a vast blue sky, which draped itself lovingly over the glittering fountains and perfectly manicured world of the palace. My shoes tread lightly on the sandy gravel, the rushing vertical waves of a circular fountain spraying me with just the smallest hint of mist. I tilted my head away from it, frightened that my makeup would smear in the droplets of spray. The main fountain itself was quite glorious—rotund, with statues of fowl and servants reaching toward a glorious woman at the peak, her benevolent hand reaching out in what I perceived to be greeting. I hoped that she was Venus, or perhaps Athena. I could use more wisdom than love at that moment.

Beyond the fountain, a small rectangle of grass stretched out, decorated on either side by more greenery and statues. Large white tents had been erected, and I could see a bountiful spread complemented by silver serving ware. My stomach growled, and though no one was around I blushed at the unladylike sound. Thanks to my heavy makeup, however, I was sure a blush would be barely detectable. Several pairs and groupings of ladies were scattered across the lawn, and I caught more than one curious glance as ladies pulled out their fans to hide their comments. I fixed my face into my favorite haughty mask and made my way to the tented area, coldly staring down anyone who did not look at me with respect.

Luckily, I found Giselle speaking with a small group near the back of the main tent, and I made my way slowly over to her. She greeted me warmly, her expression giving out no indication that my name should be anything but pristine.

“What an excellent party last night, was it not?” she asked, aglow. I smiled, wondering if she even remembered half of it. The other women in our group tittered in response, and I glared at them. The tittering ceased.

“I should say, the champagne was some of the finest I have ever tasted,” one of the women said, her powdered head bobbing in appreciation of her own sentiment. The others clucked in agreement.

“Yes, indeed. And the music—I could hardly keep myself from dancing all night! In such a lovely hall, there could have been no equal to such a party,” another woman chimed in. It was customary to love everything about Versailles and the king and queen. One could lose a life or a title otherwise.

“Of course, too much dancing and drink
can
give the wrong impression, don’t you think?” a voice said from behind me. Unsurprisingly, Jeannette made her way into our circle, her gaze predatory. All the other ladies began to squirm nervously, though no one moved away. They just got a front row to the current gossip…you think they’d give that up?

“Ah, Jeannette. Forgive me for observing that you look as though you celebrated just a tad too much, my poor thing,” I said, trying to think of how I could out-catty her and still keep my integrity. Nothing particularly useful came to mind, and I could tell she was ready to throw me under a carriage.

“Not at all, though I thank you deeply for your concern my dear, dear friend. Of course, now that we all know how promiscuous you are, with your title and status, I’m sure there might be a new opening for you as the king’s new mistress.”

I kept my face perfectly still, affecting a tinkling laugh. It worked…she frowned, and I could feel the group’s eagerness to hear what I had to say.

“You must be mistaken, my sweet, darling friend. I am as virginal now as I have ever been, and whoever says otherwise will surely enjoy the tip of my father’s sword and the heavy weight his position implies.” I wanted the threat to be clear…even if it was a bald-faced lie. My father never lifted a sword in his life, much less fought anyone. He paid people to do that.

“I see,” she said through clenched teeth. “My mistake then. Must be some false rumors going around about my lovely friend, here,” she said, addressing the group. Her expression did not match her words. “I’m sure there was simply a misunderstanding. And certainly no reason to pack on extra makeup like a whore. We are all of us delicate and upstanding ladies of the court, and I am glad to know you all,” she finished, her dagger driven home as she curtsied and made her exit. I glanced around to find everyone staring at my face…not me, but my face and the makeup that caked my cheeks. I was saved from having to find a way to defend myself by the bell, which signaled the start of the meal.

The queen had not deigned to come, as she was still in bed recovering from the night’s festivities. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or not. Perhaps if I could gain her friendship then no one would question my honor. I frowned as I watched every lady in the group strategically move away from me, until Jacqueline and Giselle were all I had left. Jacqueline gave me an encouraging smile, which I did not return, and we all sat to recover from a night of partying. Delicious pastries and meats were served out with tea and cool water. I listened to the chatter going around the table about the latest designs in fashion and who was using Belgian lace. The glances cast my way in between these pieces of small talk were enough to put an end to my appetite, though I continued to eat anyway. Nothing could be shown to be wrong.

“Would you like to go riding with me today, J?” Jacqueline asked between large bites of sausage and pastry. She had a clump of crumbs at the corner of her mouth that she had yet to dab, so I made a gesture encouraging her to do so. She jumped in her seat before grasping at her napkin and doing her best to delicately wipe them away. Unfortunately, Jacqueline was anything but delicate, and I found myself wishing that she wouldn’t try so hard to be something she was not. With no other offers to pass the time that afternoon—what a surprise—I quickly agreed.

I kept up the pretense of confidence all the way back to my rooms, in spite of the fact that few people bothered to pretend that they didn’t believe the marquis’ story. I sat on the edge of my bed, dismissing my maids and closing the door. Finally alone, I glanced about my perfect room, with its cozy fireplace and delicate chandeliers, golden candlesticks and rich fabrics. I began to wonder at how I had so much, and yet so little. At the flick of a gossiping tongue, my friendships were dissolving, my reputation gleefully exploited.

A hot tear ran down my painted cheek, leaving a long streak of peach down my unnaturally whitened face. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and made my way slowly to my vanity and sat down on the delicately padded chair. Pouring some water into a china bowl, I grasped a cloth and began to firmly wipe the makeup away, staring at myself in bewilderment once I finished mopping it all up. In all honestly, I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t been powdered and painted to look my best. As I looked at my true self in the mirror, I found that I liked her better, bruise and all.

I lived in a world where a woman was a second-class human being, a baby doll to be played with by the men who ruled the world. We catered to their desire to have us as they would see fit, dressed up and kept in our gilded dollhouses, toyed with slightly and then left on the shelf. And never, until that very moment, had I ever been dissatisfied with that life. I allowed tears to sink to the ground, admiring the natural shine they produced in my normally icy blue eyes, and I remembered what Bastien had said.

I see someone more behind your eyes, someone of value. I hope that someday, you will grow to see that woman as well.

I wiped the tears away, packing the new emotions deep down with them. Regardless of how I may have felt, it did not change how I would be treated if I were to give up the person that I was perceived to be. I called in my maid to reapply my makeup and prepare me for the afternoon ride.

“This time, apply a little less everywhere but on the bruise,” I said. I knew that whoever I wanted to be around Bastien and Jacqueline, I would be better suited being a little closer to myself.