Émilienne by Pamela Binnings Ewen

Author:Pamela Binnings Ewen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2023-02-13T16:48:07+00:00

Twilight. Clouds of pink and lavender, streaked with silver blue, sink toward the horizon. Reluctant to leave the fresh country air for her room, Émilienne has exchanged her coat for a fur jacket and a small blanket for her legs, and she now lies on a long chair on the terrace, half asleep. Coco disappeared an hour ago. Suddenly, voices catch her attention. Startled, she sits up, smoothing her skirt over her knees just as the door opens for a group of gentlemen, who stop to gape. Étienne follows, making introductions—some she already knows.

“The ladies are upstairs resting,” Étienne says.

Of course. And none of them are wives.

“Dinner is served at ten,” he adds as the men spread out around a table for cards, pulling up empty chairs. Count Léon de LaBorde, an old acquaintance, calls out, “Émilienne! Come, join us!”

She is good at the game. But politely, she declines. Rising, she moves to the parapet, bracing her hands on the cool stone ledge of the low wall, breathing in the crisp, fresh air. The scents of hay, turned soil, and smoke from the kitchen drift to her—all so different from the city streets of Paris. In the distance, a black horse and rider appear, a sleek thoroughbred with his trainer. She watches as they circle the track.

Shouts from the card players break the spell. Turning, she lifts her brows as Coco pushes through the door, still wearing those jodhpurs and that shirt and jacket. Her long dark hair still hangs loose. A gentleman motions, and she walks to him, leaning down. He whispers something in her ear, and she throws her head back, laughing now.

This is a different girl. Émilienne smiles—she likes Coco Chanel. An almost protective feeling rises in the moment. Gossip has it that she’s a girl with no home, and that is why she now lives here.

And she does not appear threatened by Émilienne’s appearance and fame.

The girl saunters over to Émilienne, followed by whistles from the players.

“We are off to Longchamp tomorrow,” Coco says. She nods toward the horse, and they both turn. “He runs tomorrow. Sunloch, he’s young, but Étienne favors him.”

The beautiful animal stops for a moment, his graceful neck stretching as if catching a scent, then takes off toward the stables. Émilienne watches until he is gone. “I’d put my money on that one.”

“You like to gamble on horses?”

“Yes . . . once in a while.”

Over the years with her gentlemen, she has learned a thing or two about the races. With money, gambling is an easy thrill. Risks have never frightened her. Sometimes, she thinks perhaps she prefers gambling to watching the horses run.

Feeling Coco’s eyes on her, she gives the girl a smile, turns on her light. Coco jingles coins in her pocket. “Perhaps I shall give that a try tomorrow afternoon.” With a sideways glance at Émilienne, she adds, “You will come with us?”

“I never miss a race when presented with the opportunity.”

“Coco, we need help over here!” Leon again. “Étienne refuses to stay.

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