This is a kind of filler chapter for future events, and I didn't realize until I was finished that there was so much symbolism and irony in it. But as much of a filler chapter it is, it is nevertheless important and I find it entertaining. Reviews make me giddy and give me a surge of inspiration to write faster, and all-in-all they make me smile; so they are much welcome. AN: Assez in French means "enough" and the word "stay" is a term used in subsitution of corset, because the term "corset" wasn't coined until the 18th century. Enjoy!
"Though dreams can be deceiving, like faces are to hearts, they serve for sweet relieving, when fantasty and reality lie too far apart." -Unknown
Ever since she was a child, in the days before she could completely comprehend her native dialect and written language, Adela had always dreamt of a looming darkness. It lured her through mazes in her nightly visions, filling her ears with decadent words children often ate up like candied sweets. Adela had always been a child so easily pleased, and these words dripping with hidden motives took her hand countless of times deeper into her sleep to deceive her. And when the mind grew naïve and weak, as that is how humans begin their short lives, this darkness poured sinister sentiments the child knew not of into her pretty little head—sentiments one does not discover until the world had finally broken them down into a form of nothingness. These dark, curling wisps of blackness at times appeared to her as a handsome man, and his chiseled features made it all the more tempting to Adela as she grew with age. But child intuition was not as ignorant of dangers as her heart was, and within a few years on the month after her twelfth birthday, she banished the darkness from her dreams in hopes of its eternal departure. Therefore, the harboring nightmares of her early girlhood obliged her demands and disappeared… temporarily.
The way Adela was raised in the next four years proved to be a perfect distraction for her, keeping her dreams locked up for a longer term than expected. Adela grew up in a noblesse chevaleresque family, a family lineage of knightly nobility that predominantly existed prior to the year 1400. Her father's title of lineage gave him the additional benefit alongside his title of vicomté when accompanied with politics, and this placed a weight of responsibility on his children. The art of social decorum and proper etiquette required the elder Reneau children to reform themselves to perfection. This could never be the case for second eldest and first-born daughter, Adela. Adela could hear her mother's voice telling her to straighten her back, make her corset tighter, tilt her chin a little higher.
"Every movement a woman makes should be executed with the utmost care, for every mistake done under the eyes of the public could result in disaster," she remembered. While corsetry lengthened her spine and branded a confidence in her step, extensive reading informed her of proper mannerisms in a state of social representation, as well as educating her in the subjects of the arts, music, and teachings of composition. But there were some days when Adela felt everything she had done for her family was not enough. Being the first daughter of the family and the second eldest to her brother, Aldric, it is expected that both her and her brother find exceptional partners to further establish a greater bloodline of nobility and honor for their family. Aldric had set his eyes on many women, believing each one that passed to be the girl he shall marry. This gullibility for the wiles of women did not hinder his reputation, but instead furthered it so that several more women would return to win over his proposal. On Adela's side, however, her naturally flirtatious demeanor dubbed her as a woman not to be fooled with or fallen for. Her head seemed elsewhere, the French courtiers commented often, even though her manners, posture, and features were so impeccably refined and articulate.
Their flattery couldn't seem to impress her, and their conversations made themselves out to be such a bore. She could simply not achieve the one thing her mother had trained her for. Adela felt selfish for wanting more in a gentleman trying to win her hand, and she had at several moments of her life wished her younger sister Jacqueline to be the first daughter of the Reneau family. But three years her junior, with little Henri two years Jacqueline's junior, there was no other option but to enter the public's eyes at Aldric's side and play pretty. Once Adela reached the age where exposure was necessary to heighten reputation, sitting at the dinners and parties in respectful silence had caused her to continually reflect on two specific nights when the figure of her dreams appeared to her in reality. The events undoubtedly preoccupied her thoughts with persistence since their happenings, because the image of him that once faded into oblivion with her nightmares became sharp and vivid a second time, as if his face had been a daily feast to her eyes.
The age of fifteen and sixteen, two years where that childhood darkness took physical form in her life, settled the crucial instilments of her governess and mother's teachings before her face could be viewed by gentlemen's eyes. Though in the midst of womanhood and difficult development, Adela's rebellious temperament and inquisitiveness drew her into the habit of sneaking around, spying on the dinner guests through cracked doors when she had the opportunity. Both nights equally began with the pretense of falling into dreamland alongside her sister and brothers, and then the slow gait following the carpeted twists and turns of her manor followed until jocund laughter could be heard through the thin stream of light peaking out from the ballroom. Excitement had bubbled under her skin at the idea of disobeying her mother as she inched open the door far enough to get a clear view.
Low buzzing as a result of the discreet chatter amongst guests entered Adela's ears, and she could distinctly hear the thrill laughter of her mother's temporary friends across the ballroom. She spotted the prominent emerald likeness of her eyes to the left of where she hid, recognizing their curious brightness as her father turned away from two French diplomats after discussing international affairs. Watching her father closely, Adela's eyes carried themselves through the maze alongside him as he mingled with various crowds and exchanged polite bantering. It was only when he stopped at the end of the line, in front of a man nearly a head taller than her father, that Adela's mind clicked into astonished interest. He had looked so familiar to her, but it didn't register in her mind until the man turned his face in her direction. That piercing blue, intense and chilling all at once, the long silky blackness of hair, the face pale and polished like fine porcelain… it was enough to throw Adela's heart into a frightening frenzy.
Surely, her mind must have been playing a practical joke on her eyes, for how could such a man who has taken her hand in those vivid dreams since childhood be standing in her manor conversing with her father? And then, just as if he had shared the same thoughts as her in the middle of what appeared to be a delightful discussion with Monsieur Reneau, he turned his head to meet her widening eyes across the ballroom. His stare proved to be just as startlingly handsome as his approaching smile. Adela stood frozen in her tracks, suddenly embarrassed for trespassing on an event her age group should not be attending. Yet just as it started, it ended, and the broad shoulders of the man that disappeared from her dream world twisted to lead her father in another direction. The second encounter of this man, after a year of picturing his face behind her eyes when she would close them to sleep, happened just as the last, and Adela grew quite aware that the womanly curves of her body were ever-expanding year-by-year. She never saw his face again, other than its personal appearance in her dreams, where Adela flaunted the hourglass figure stays had shaped in her in hopes of fulfilling the naughty thoughts lingering in her imagination.
It wouldn't be until Adela reached the age of eighteen when she would be introduced to this mysterious figure, and everything: her world, her life, her emotions… would be changed forever.
10 June, 1665
London
Every beginning must have an end, and every end must have a beginning. But when one reaches such an end, there may be yet another beginning behind it. We never know what life holds for us until the moment our body dies. With my sudden misfortune, I am afraid I have not yet left the body I died in. Thus, I am here to suffer knowing what could have been when I made the decision to leave mortality behind. To fully understand what I am trying to tell you, you must go back to the beginning of the end—the entire two years I spent trying to discover the true identity of a man I foolishly loved. I must tell you everything.
Adela
Paris, France
1663
Autumn
"Mademoiselle, Madame Reneau requests that you join her in the parlor for breakfast. She asks that I have you dressed as soon as possible due to the significant news she has to discuss with you," whispered her mother's maid, Cherine, who lightly pressed a hand into Adela's shoulder to wake her. The eighteen year-old turned in her bed and sighed in annoyance, slipping her feet onto the comforting warmth of the plush rug spread across her bedroom. Cherine ignored the young woman's unladylike groans and raised Adela's arms in order for her to properly help her into her layers of dress.
"Did I sleep late?" Adela murmured, inhaling sharply as Cherine tugged aggressively on the laces of her stay, cinching Adela's waist to an impossibly small measurement.
"No, my Lady. The madam rose early herself this morning, and only thought it polite for you to greet her in the parlor to discuss family matters while she takes her morning coffee," Cherine replied hastily, slipping the next four layers of fabric over Adela's head. Her calloused fingers worked with the lace and fastenings carefully, and Adela let a satisfied smile brighten her face as she looked over the feminine curves gracing her body under the layers of silk. She remembered how often she gawked at and envied her mother's beauty as a child, hoping that one day she would be gifted with the same strong and noble features. Adela's waist, for instance, matched the petite size of her mother's. Jacqueline, her younger sister who seems to have twice the luck as Adela when it came to physical beauty, had already started to grow into her features. Her neck would grow long and slender with each passing day, her skin a little finer, and her face a little thinner. Jacqueline would surpass her in every single way once she reached Adela's age.
Cherine motioned for Adela to seat herself in front of the vanity to arrange her hair, though this era she lived in did not care entirely for the extravagant styles. Attention to detail drifted solely to the state of dress and quality of fabric, for the French court was very particular with the latest trends and rules of attire. Her mother's maid fluffed out Adela's fine ringlets of curls cascading down her back, pinning a few stray locks away from her face before Adela could apply a moderate amount of rouge to her cheeks. The rose-colored powder livened her face quite a bit, and the faint presence of pink in her plump lips complimented the flushed appearance of her chest. Once Cherine removed her hands from Adela's hair, the young woman rose to her slipper-adorned feet and set off to meet her mother.
Evelien Reneau, from as far back as the moment she gave birth to her first child, ran her home on strict authority. Known in Adela's childhood years as the punishing parent when she wasn't in attendance with her governess, Evelien controlled any and every aspect of her children's lives so fit it be to her expectations. As the children grew, the two eldest in their prime years suitable enough to marry, Madame Evelien's authority ceased to neither waver nor falter. Adela managed to pull a faint smile on her face as her mother made her way across the room to kiss both sides of her daughter's cheeks, beckoning her to sit opposite of her across the end table.
"Mascarpone biscuits?" Evelien proffered.
Adela pinched a biscuit between her fingers and politely nibbled, the savory almond taste snapping her out of her premeditative state when she paired it with her cup of coffee.
"Your maid Cherine told me that you had important news to discuss with me?" she questioned. Her eyes lowered to her smooth hands—hands that have never seen a day of work in their lives and never planned on witnessing such a dreadful day.
"Yes, that," Evelien murmured. She, too, folded her hands in her lap, subconsciously straightening her shoulders and back in their trained alignment before she would deliver her news. "Aldric is engaged to be married," she stated, quite clearly and with the tiniest trace of disappointment etched in her voice. Adela fell silent. Time could never be crueler of a being than right now. The two years since she had been exposed to the happenings of the French court and watchful eyes of the public passed by in abrupt speed, and she had lived it out rather extravagantly for a woman as young as her. Men had tried to charm her in those short years, but Adela couldn't help that none of the courtiers caught her attention. She was very much like the wind to them, drifting them along in a path they have no choice but to follow, and as soon as she had them in her direction, she turned a different way—quite indecisive, yet dangerously charming to the ignorance of men. And here her elder brother was, a man who couldn't hold himself down to one woman, proclaiming his loyalty to a single lady for the rest of his life.
We will see in a couple of years, she thought.
"So soon?" were the words she could barely utter.
"Yes, I'm afraid. You see, dear Adela, I would be happier about this engagement if it meant you followed suit in the next three months. But you have pushed every eligible French courtier two steps behind you." She coughed quietly into her handkerchief, which resulted in sad attempt to distract Adela's thoughts before she let out the critical comments. "It's time you realized your future husband will never be up to par in your eyes, and you will have to live with that—"
"Mother!" Adela exclaimed. Her words stung Adela's ears, and the thought of having to blindly choose a husband in the three months following today made her hands ball into fists.
"Assez, Adela! Assez!" Evelien shouted back. "Do not raise your voice to me! God knows I have raised you better than this!" Her mother's face reddened considerably for a moment, and just as if the event had never happening, she stirred her coffee silently, continuing, "There will be a ball in a week's time to celebrate your brother's engagement. I expect you to select a few men who can tolerate your overactive imagination, for you will probably never see such unobjectionable men for the rest of your life. French courtiers shall certainly be there, but other possible suitors from foreign countries shall attend as well, and I expect you to share a dance with each of them."
Adela slackened her mouth in an attempt to speak, but her mother pressed a finger to her own lips to silence her. "Yes, mother," she relented, her eyes lowering to the fragile china holding her coffee. She didn't have much of an appetite anymore.
"Adela," her mother sighed. "This is what is expected of the nobles in the French court. I married your father when I was seventeen, and in truth I was not completely satisfied with my mother's choice. I do not regret it in the slightest." The green of Adela's eyes brightened with tears brimming on the edge of her lids while she stared down her mother. Age took to her beautifully, barely a wrinkle or flaw in sight. Looking back on the brief instances in her childhood, her mother looked genuinely happy when she stood beside her father. That happiness continued on into their adulthood, and like the jealous child she was, Adela pictured herself just as happy the day she married.
"You are beautiful, my child. Physically there is not a flaw diminishing your fine looks, but in your mind you must put away those fantasies of yours and face reality. I imagined my eldest daughter would be the most trying when it came to selecting a husband. It is because my eldest's beauty surpasses the women of the court," Evelien smiled, "and because she will succeed in having the most profitable and handsome husband the French could desire. I have faith in you, my daughter. Now go awaken your brother and sister for their lessons, everyone is sleeping dreadfully late this morning."
When Adela's mother mentioned handsome, she couldn't restrain the face of the man she caught a glimpse of two years ago from appearing in her mind. Silently she longed to meet him face-to-face and flaunt him to her mother, who would blush profusely in the presence of man as striking as him. But how could she be lucky enough to assume such an occurrence would happen? At this point in her very youthful life, she felt she would have to prepare herself for failure. There were many things Adela had to think about now, and she needed to think fast. First thing's first, she felt compelled to spill the surprising news to her sister Jacqueline. The walk across the manor had been a daily ritual of Adela's when there was so much to look at, and it became a kind of adventure in her younger years as a child. Nearly ten generations of portraits lined the halls, and the scholarly aspect of Adela's personality flew to the surface when she had the chance to study the brushwork and style of the paintings. Living up to the success of a family dating back to the days of knighthood intimidated her, and the least she could achieve in a situation as dire as this is to hold her optimism skyward the night of her brother's celebration.
Adela would try her best for her mother, and secure an easier life for her sister. These thoughts planted themselves deep within her mind as she cracked open the door to Jacqueline's bedroom. Her little sister lay sprawled across her bed, her ebony curls flung about the pillow in a soft disarray of contrasting colors. Jacqueline will never understand how lucky she is until she realizes her older sister had to marry for money and reputation, not love. She brushed her hand across the ivory skin of her sister's face, running her willowy fingers through Jacqueline's soft ringlets.
"Jacqueline, darling, mother wished for me to wake you," Adela paused when her sister didn't budge from her swatting hand. "I have some important news I need to tell you. It's about Aldric," she stated. With another gentle push and tap, Jacqueline's blue eyes edged open. They squinted and narrowed up at her older sister for a long minute until she sat up in her bed, a youthful smile suddenly appearing and making her face glow.
"Did you say Aldric?" she inquired, wondering the same as I would have on what could possibly be important about the eldest sibling. Jacqueline's brows furrowed when she watched her sister's expression change from mirth to despondency. "Did he claim a seat in office?"
"No," Adela laughed. "He is said to be engaged, Jacqueline. He found a lady to accept his hand."
"Are we speaking of the same Aldric? Our brother, Aldric?" Jacqueline asked with as much confusion as I had shown upon my face not thirty minutes ago. "He chose one woman to be his wife? She must be quite fulfilling—"
"Jacqueline!" Adela slapped her hand over Jacqueline's mouth in an instant. Jacqueline's figure shook with laughter under Adela's palm, and the silliness of the scenario infectiously forced Adela to crack a grin herself. "We know he takes to the carnal aspect of life too readily, and unfortunately yes, what I have told you is true. But you must not tell a soul! Mother will have my heart presented to her on a plate the second she finds I told such an announcement to you! I suppose she will let you and Henri know the secret in the next day or so, but I am required to attend the ball mother is holding in his honor. You know what this means, Jacqueline." Adela's features turned serious at the end of her statement, but her sister couldn't interpret the look she was giving her.
There came a sad sigh and an evermore puzzled expression from the younger sister who was too young to understand what it meant to hold responsibilities without selfish intentions.
"I am the firstborn daughter of this family, Jacqueline. When the eldest male of the house has found his selected bride, the eldest female must follow through with a second engagement quite close to the first. I am not suitable for this role—it's too early, and you're the beauty of the family, Jackie, not me."
"Shh, Adela. Listen to yourself. Have faith, sister." Jacqueline gripped Adela's shoulders, pressing a delicate finger under her chin and raising it to its full and proud height. "I see mother's everlasting beauty in your face every single day. Who would not be lucky to have my sister as their wife? You are full of charm and wit, and dare I say could bring men to their knees if it wasn't such a scornful act to silently seduce men in public," she snickered. "I am almost too sure of myself that you will find your husband next week, and he will fall before you and proclaim you a goddess and kiss your jeweled hand a hundred times over. Don't forget to catch a glimpse of me peaking through the doors in your victory. Play a good game for me, Adela," Jacqueline winked.
The elder sister released a long-awaited exhale of relief, and held her sister close to her for a bittersweet moment.
"You constantly find ways to raise my spirits, Jackie. I don't know how to thank you."
"Thank me by telling me I was right after you proclaim a handsome prize. Let's call a maid here to get me dressed while you go wake Henri. I knew mother would be starting our lessons earlier soon enough." Jacqueline pushed off the bed and turned to face her mirror, beginning to remove her nightdress and picking at any imperfection she could spot amidst her curls.
Adela left her sister to her morning rituals and set off on the second walk to retrieve her brother. Her conversation with her sister had lifted Adela's spirits considerably, and more often than not she imagined herself winning her mother's approval the coming night of the ball. One way or another, she intended to find a handsome gentleman willing to pique her interest. They would dance to numerous songs and he would be besotted by her unique sense of banter, wishing to have her as his wife by the rising of tomorrow's sun.
Thus, the naivety of Adela's mind continued into the day, and nothing stopped her from picturing the perfect evening with her ideal husband. But happy endings could never be Adela's forte, for the fate that laid in store for her would be a tragic one.