The Paris Showroom by Juliet Blackwell

Author:Juliet Blackwell [Blackwell, Juliet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-04-19T00:00:00+00:00

18

Mathilde

YOU’LL STAY HERE tonight, get some rest,” whispered Mathilde as she placed an extra pillow on her bed. The two young women had tiptoed up the rear servants’ stairs and snuck into Mathilde’s room. “Tomorrow Papi will leave early to go to work, and Mami has her weekly luncheon with her church friends. I’ll distract the servants and you can slip out.”

“I can’t sleep there,” said Bridgette, staring at the comfortable bed with its crisp white sheets and shell pink coverlet. “I’m filthy.”

“I can’t risk running a bath for you. Besides, after what you told me a few minutes ago, I doubt you’ll ever relax in a tub again!” Mathilde let out a nervous giggle, but Bridgette remained silent. “No matter. The water pitcher’s full, and you can use the basin to wash up. And anyway, it’s not like we haven’t both been filthy before, remember?”

Bridgette smiled. “That time we tried hunting for frogs at the pond?”

“We looked like we were made of mud! Mami was furious.”

“We just wanted a nice dinner of frogs’ legs!”

The young women shared a laugh, which faded quickly.

“Those were good days,” said Bridgette, picking up the fan Capucine had made for Mathilde and waving it around.

“They were,” said Mathilde. “Oh, Bridgette, don’t look so sad. There will be good days ahead. You’ll see.”

Bridgette said nothing, just put down the fan, scrubbed her hands and face, and passed a washcloth under her arms. When she was done, Mathilde handed her a clean nightgown made of soft white lawn with lace at the neckline and wrists. Bridgette slipped it over her head and ran her hands along the supple fabric with reverence.

“This is lovely. You’ve always had such nice things.”

“I’ve been lucky. Papi and Mami have provided for me.”

But at what cost? Papi had said that he expected her to accept Victor’s offer of marriage. Her stomach clenched. Try as she might, she could not conceive of being married to the young man. As she crawled into bed, Bridgette on one side and she on the other, she tried to imagine sharing a bed with Victor, his leaning over to embrace her. She pushed the image from her mind. It seemed unnatural, like kissing a brother.

Bridgette sank into the downy bed with a long sigh.

“Remember our sleepovers?” Bridgette asked.

Mathilde nodded, lying down facing Bridgette. “Staying up all night talking.”

“It’s funny. I’m weary to the bone, but I don’t think I can sleep,” Bridgette said.

“Maybe you need something to read. I have a nice book of poetry Mami Yvette gave me. . . .” Even as Mathilde suggested it, she realized the book would probably be boring. “Wait. I’ve got a better idea. How about we read some love letters?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Mathilde. Don’t take this the wrong way, but . . . I’m not up to reading Victor’s love letters. I’m not sure I want to know his private thoughts.”

“I thought you liked Victor.”

“I like him well enough. I mean, I don’t dislike him. He’s a

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