Chapter 74 Exposure
Isabelle spent the next few weeks in paroxysms of joy, planning the ball down to the last detail, towing Christine and her mother along beside her as she spoke with the cook about the supper they might serve and inspected the ballroom in the west wing of the chateau.
"We'll have to send the invitations out by tomorrow at the latest," Isabelle said, as Christine and her mother sat down together in a window seat in the ballroom, grateful for the rest. She had far too much energy to sit as they did and stood before them, notebook in hand as she ran her fingers down it. "I think two weeks will be sufficient for everybody to prepare, and if we wait much longer the snow will come again and ruin everything. There's nothing worse than a ball where only half your guests are present. I much prefer to bustling room to an empty one, don't you?"
Christine only nodded in reply. Isabelle was too preoccupied in making additions to her list to notice anyway. She glanced out of the window and watched the storm clouds roll in across the horizon.
"They'll be home soon, don't worry," Beatrice, Isabelle's mother said, noting the look of concern on Christine's face. Raoul and Philippe had left that morning to visit friends of Philippe's and were not due back until the evening. Neither had been very forthcoming on exactly who they'd gone to visit, but Beatrice was quite certain this sudden trip had more to do with them escaping from Isabelle's endless chatter about the ball, than any sense of altruism towards a long-lost acquaintance.
"Yes, they'll be fine," Isabelle agreed, still distracted by her list. "Let's enjoy the quiet while they're gone to achieve a miracle with this room."
"Good idea," Christine replied. How she longed for a life as uncomplicated and free as Isabelle's. She was so sure of her love for Philippe and his in return. All she had to worry about was a ball.
Isabelle went off down the room, two servants in tow, instructing them to pull all the covers off the furniture piled up in one far corner and discussing how much cleaning had to be done to ensure the ballroom shone like a new pin again.
"Don't mind her, dear," Beatrice said, "she's very anxious about all this."
"I thought she was looking forward to it," Christine said, trying not to show how uncomfortable she was to be having her first conversation Mme. Dechanet since arriving at the estate.
"It'll be the first time that we can introduce Philippe as her fiancé," Beatrice continued. "And there are some invited who've never taken kindly to that fact. Once a title comes into the mix, it complicates everything. I'm afraid you'll face the exact same situation, at some point."
"I don't understand," Christine said, thinking that nothing she'd learnt about Isabelle could make her think that she cared about Philippe's title in the slightest.
Beatrice stood up from the window seat and offered Christine her arm so that they might both walk to the other end of the ballroom and catch up with her eldest daughter. "Well, unfortunately few people will ever believe you and Isabelle married for love alone."
Christine's stomach dropped. So not only would her marriage to Raoul be built on a lie, but everyone around them would think she'd only done it just to become a Vicomtesse? She already hated being part of this stifling life, its rules and rigid conventions. To think everyone she'd meet would also look down upon her made her life ahead seem more miserable than ever. "Nobody could doubt she loves him though, when they see them together."
"But there were many others who may have been rejected in her favour," Beatrice sighed. "I doubt a display of their love together will be enough to stop gossip. And I cannot tell if my neighbours and friends will still try and push their own daughters in front of Philippe and try and take his affection, even now."
"Surely not?" Christine said, shocked that people could even think of such a thing.
"You'd be surprised at how easily a man's head can be turned if another mother is forceful enough. One hopes Philippe is made of sterner stuff, but he is after all, a man."
A small flare of hope rose up in Christine. If Raoul placed his affections upon another woman, would she then be free? But as soon as she had the thought her heart sank again. He was far too honorable to ever do that. She tried not to sigh, realising Mme. Dechanet was still talking.
"I'm afraid that I am no more looking forward to this ball than you are."
"Oh, but I am," Christine said, scandalised to think that even a moment of her own distress had broken through her carefully guarded façade of calm. "I really am."
"If you insist," Beatrice said. She rather liked this shy, timid little creature and could easily see why Raoul adored her as much as he did. But there are things a mother sees that a man in love does not. And it had been obvious to her from the first that Christine had many moments in their days together when she was either terrified or entirely in her own thoughts. Thoughts which kept her farther away from her fiancé than any sense of shame at her lesser position in his life ever could. "You must be looking forward to the dancing at least."
"Yes," Christine said, grateful for the change of subject. "That will be pleasant."
"I wonder though, if you might help me with something?"
"Of course, anything."
"Adele is not yet well versed in the ways of society," Beatrice said, wondering if her summation about the other reason for Christine's reluctance to have this ball was correct. "I was wondering if you'd help her learn some of the dances she'll need?"
Christine blushed furiously. Though she was a ballerina, she'd never once been taught the intricate dances required at a society ball.
"There are so many new dances these days," Beatrice said, knowing instantly she was right. "I find it tiresome to keep up with them all. Isabelle does though and she'll be able to teach you both all the latest ones."
Christine only nodded in reply. She'd begun to loathe their subtle suggestions and innocent comments. And then she'd feel guilty for doing so, when she knew they only did it to help her. There was no malice behind their easy smiles. But all she felt, thanks to their behavior, was inadequate, uneducated and beneath them all.
"Think what a glorious surprise it will be for your young man when you're the toast of the evening," Beatrice concluded.
Christine tried to smile. What an elaborate ploy for them to have thought up, so that she didn't embarrass Raoul in front of his contemporaries. She tried to be grateful; but both Isabelle and her mother did nothing but constantly remind her of the difficulties ahead of her, once married to Raoul. It couldn't help but make her long for the Opera House and the people she grew up with, who expected nothing more of her than to simply be herself.
She was struck by a sudden longing for her Angel then that took her breath away. She wanted to run to his home and bury herself in the soft covers of his bed and hide from these well-meaning strangers. It made her heart ache. Why had she done this? Why had she come here? Why had she so foolishly accepted Raoul and sealed herself into this suffocating fate?
"Did you ever attend any balls at your Opera?" Beatrice asked gently noting yet again, that Christine's thoughts were very far away from the conversation at hand.
"No," Christine replied, "they have the Bal Masque every year, but Meg and I were never allowed to attend." Even to think of Meg made her homesick, though they'd grown very far apart over the last few months. Meg hadn't even replied to her request to come and join her there.
"What a shame."
"We used to sneak upstairs and hide behind the balustrades to watch though," Christine continued, anxious to be talking and not lost in memories. "Until Madame found us and whisked us back to bed." Though last year the party held backstage had become so raucous that they'd retreated quickly to their dormitory and locked the door. "We'd pick out which costume was our favourite, who had the most beautiful dresses and the masks…." She looked away suddenly, her voice catching on the last word.
"Well, there'll be no masks here," Isabelle said, rejoining them at last. "I can't abide the things. I wore one with feathers once and I declare, I sneezed all night."
"But you did look beautiful, dear," Beatrice reminded her.
"Which brings me to the next item on my list," Isabelle said, looking at Christine. "We need to go and order you a dress."
"But I already have a suitable dress," Christine protested, stricken at the idea of spending even more of Raoul's money.
"That's an evening dress," Isabelle explained, gently. "Not a ball dress."
Christine looked at both women, smiling at her, their eyes showing patience at her ignorance and the very best of intentions when constantly faced with her lack of breeding. It was so hard to smile back and accept their help, when all she wanted to do was run to her room and slam her door upon them all.