Jacqueline's Dilemma by Emma - Part Six
Jacqueline waved at the retreating carriage. As the carriage went through the gates the Queen leaned out of the window and waved back in the in the way that Danielle had told her about. "I think that all went very well," Danielle said. "She seemed delighted with the house."
"Yes I think she liked it," Jacqueline replied as they walked back into the house.
"And you are all ready for the ball now."
"Yes, I suppose I am. And the next ten years." Danielle laughed.
"Mother did get a little carried away didn't she." They entered the sitting room and took their usual seats. Hélène and Steven had been give the rest of the day off. Jacqueline had said that she would not go back to work that day and Danielle wanted the time to speak with Jacqueline alone.
"I noticed that you did not select a gown in the end," Jacqueline said, knowingly. "Neither did Hélène or Juliette. In fact I was the only person to try anything on."
"Yes, I had forgotten that we had already chosen our gowns when we first received the invitations."
"Strange that you would forget that. I know what you were doing Danielle." The two women just looked at each other. Danielle felt embarrassed.
"I just wanted to give you something that was just for you, not the manor."
"I know, and I appreciate it." Danielle leaned forwards and gave her sister a hug. "I won't feel quite so inappropriately dressed when I deal with merchants now."
Danielle sighed. Once again, Jacqueline had taken a gift for herself and made it into something for the manor. Danielle would just have to start thinking of something else. Perhaps she could arrange for something for Saturday night.
"And also I won't have to wear Marguerite's clothes any more. I think you must know how I hated that."
"Well, I had an idea. And to be quite honest, I did not like it myself. That is why I wrote to the Queen."
"What do you think I should do with their things?" Jacqueline asked.
"I don't know what to suggest. We could always try and return them." They both laughed.
"Are they still in Strasbourg?" Jacqueline asked, already knowing the answer. She just wanted information about them. For all she hated the two of them, they were still her family.
"Yes. They will remain there indefinitely," Danielle replied. "The King wants to keep them out of the way."
"I think that is best. Lord knows what sort of plotting they would get up to here."
"Do you think about them much?"
"Sometimes," Jacqueline confessed. "For the first month after they were sentenced, I dreamt about them every night."
"Were they nightmares?" Jacqueline nodded.
"They were all the same." Jacqueline had kept this painful period of her life to herself. Not even Antoine, with whom she had shared much of her past, had been told any of this. But now she felt that it was time to let someone in. "I am in the room that was mine as a child when we were still in Ghent. I hear my father's carriage stop in front of the house, so I jump off my bed and run to the door to go and meet him. But before I can leave my mother and Marguerite are there. My mother pushes me onto my bed while Marguerite locks the door. Then my mother starts to lash me, just like she did to you." This account was upsetting to Danielle. It was bad enough that these memories haunted her, but that they were also tormenting Jacqueline, was almost too
much for her.
"Marguerite is laughing at me. I can hear my father banging on the door calling to me. 'Butterfly'." By now tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I haven't had it as much recently, but I do still sometimes see this all again."
"Is that what your father called you 'Butterfly'?" Jacqueline nodded. "You were very close to him weren't you?"
"Yes, I was. My mother had time for nobody but Marguerite. My father and I had become excluded totally from her life. He was not allowed to have a relationship with Marguerite, so he devoted his time to me. He took me everywhere with him. The way I would run around and weave in and out of people to see their faces reminded him of a butterfly."
"You must have been devastated when he died."
"He was everything to me. My only chance of a happy life. I thought that I was being punished when he was taken from me. Well that is until your father came into our lives. He would come to our apartments in the house where we lived in Paris to see my mother, but ultimately he would spend his time talking with me. Mother was too busy telling Marguerite of what her life would be like in Dordogne. Telling her of how one day she would be a Princess. He took the time to talk to me. We became close."
"I don't think I realised that you were so close."
"When we lost him, I thought that I must have done something really bad. This was my punishment. When they stopped you from being my friend I knew that I was born to suffer. Since then I have just kept out of their way. Mother always wanted Marguerite to be the centre of attention, I just let them get on with it. I'm sure you noticed how my few attempts at rebellion were quickly crushed."
Danielle nodded. She was now very close to tears herself.
"I thought that once they were away from me, I would be able to forget them. But deep down I am still that child who is desperately seeking my mother's approval but is rejected in favour of my sister. I know it was nothing in comparison to what you have suffered because of her, but I cannot escape her."
"The dream you have, all that really happened didn't it?" Jacqueline nodded. "Why? Why did she feel the need to lash her own child?"
"My father had bought me a new necklace the day before. It was to wear when he took me to meet his friends. Marguerite saw it though and was jealous, so she told mother that he had bought it for her and that I had stolen it. Mother knew that it was not true, but she did not care. She was resentful of my father's interest in me. Any excuse was good for her. My Father came home early that day and caught her doing it. He could hear me crying through the locked door and he pleaded with her to let him in, but she would not. She just shouted that I had been bad and needed to be punished. When she finally opened the door, he was ready for ramming it down. I had never heard him shout like that. He actually reduced her to tears. That night he promised they would never hurt me again. He was planning to leave our home to live away from mother in Bruges and he was going to take me with him. Two days later he left the house for the last time. On his way to close the deal on purchasing a house, he was attacked by thieves and killed. People who knew of his plans to leave Ghent suspected that my mother had paid the thieves to attack him, especially when we left for Paris."
Danielle was stunned. She had no idea that Jacqueline had led such a tragic life. They had more in common than she could have imagined. She desperately wanted to do something to ease the pain. To exorcise the ghosts. But no words left her mouth. She had lost the ability to speak. She looked around the room. Her eye was caught by the fire.
"Jacqueline, when was the last time the gardeners had a bonfire. I have an idea."
Two hours later night had fallen over the Manor de Barbarac, but nobody was asleep. Instead the entire household was outside watching wood and leaves from the garden burn alongside a plethora of expensive silks and velvets. All treat this as some sort of celebration of a new freedom they had found, but none were so satisfied at this sight as Jacqueline.
For over an hour housemaids had been bringing out clothing from Rodmilla and Marguerite's rooms and throwing them on the fire. Under Danielle's advice, Jacqueline had made a gift of one good gown to each woman servant in the house and ordered the rest of her mother and sister's belongings burned. Everything they had ever owned, clothes, papers, ornaments was to be destroyed. The amount of gowns that still remained over an hour later was testament to the lack of regard Rodmilla had for the manor.
A party atmosphere was growing among the servants. Instead of eating dinner inside the dining hall, tables had been set up outside. Everyone was wrapped up warm and the singing was starting. Danielle noted how like the gypsy camp this was. The memory of that night when she and Henry first kissed and fell in love, made a inexplicable warmth grow inside her.
Jacqueline had not seen such a party since she was five years old. For her fifth birthday her father had amassed fifty children from the village and brought them to their house for a party. There was sweetmeats and sugared plums and all sorts of treats. They all ate in the hall and
then went outside to play in the snow. Her mother had kept Marguerite away, claiming such gatherings lacked elegance and so it would be improper for her to attend. Jacqueline had seen her sister standing at the window of her room crying. Jacqueline had felt sorry for her, as she had many times after then. Most of the time she recognised that Marguerite had been born with a malicious streak, but sometimes she thought that maybe she did have good in her. Marguerite was not necessarily a bad person, she was the person Rodmilla had made her.
Orlando, one of the Florentine vineyard workers had brought out his violin and a small dance had started. Louise and Maurice were leading the jig. Danielle, Jacqueline and Hélène were watching in amusement from the sides.
"You certainly have a talented staff," Hélène commented as she listened to the skilful playing. "Perhaps you should hold an outdoor party here next summer. You already have the entertainment."
"Perhaps I will," Jacqueline said. She liked the idea of nobles and such attending a gathering held by her. Maybe she could hold a feast in honour of Danielle and Henry's first year of marriage.
She stood up and walked over to the fire. It was casting a warm glow over the area. She was able to survey everything around her. She was satisfied that her staff were happy. The land looked good and the house well looked after. She was finding herself very pleased with her situation in life. But there was something missing. Something that if she had it, she could call herself perfectly content. She just couldn't work out exactly what it was.
As she looked up into the sky, watching the flames climb into the night air, she did not notice that she was being watched. Antoine was standing on the other side of the fire, but he could see her through the flames. The way she stared up into sky, watching the blaze as it disappeared was enchanting. She looked like a child who was entranced by something so beautiful nobody else could recognise it. He quickly realised that he was openly staring and looked away so that he would not be detected. It would not do to be seen like that.
However, he was seen, by the one person, who he would not want to know. Jacqueline had managed to catch his eye, just as he tried to look away. He knew that all attempts to disguise his open staring would now be fruitless. Therefore he looked back at her and for a minute they
were just staring at each other, studying each other's faces. There was something very open and inviting about each other. Jacqueline did not notice Danielle and Hélène come to her side.
"One of the maids found this in your mother's room," Hélène said, holding a box full of jewellery. "Obviously we can't burn it. What should we do with it?" Jacqueline did not answer. She was too caught up in the intimacy of the moment to pay any attention. Hélène noticed this straight away. Danielle however, did not.
"May I take these?" Jacqueline just murmured her approval. "I think there is something I can do with them, please excuse me." She left her sister and attendant to find a messenger.
"You seem to get on very well with him," Hélène said. "I think the two of you will make a very good pair." Jacqueline turned to her, not exactly sure what she was suggesting. "I mean with him helping you manage the estate. He seems to be a big help."
"Yes he is," Jacqueline replied while looking back at him. She knew full well what Hélène meant, and she was not sure that she could refute any of what she was suggesting.
