Chapter V: The Tide Turns

Are you sure you don't need me at home? Margaret asked for the fifth time, nervously shifting from side to side as she spoke. Satine didn't even bother to look up this time.



Because if you think you're too tired, I can--



And Celeste likes me to--

Margaret! Go to the dance! Satine straightened up and fixed a determined glare on her sister. You look beautiful, you'll have a delightful time. Just go. Get Henry to drive you, but just go. Margaret opened her mouth to protest, but found herself being pushed out the door.

Satine cried, out of breath. She sat down on the chair, sighing a little as the door closed behind a clearly reluctant Margaret. She hated being overweight. Every move seemed to take forever, and she lost her natural grace to the baby's weight. She meant to get up, but she seemed to be pressed down into her chair. A few minutes passed, but she was still sitting there, silently fuming about the pain in her lower back, when she felt a pair of strong hands massaging her shoulders.

Is Celeste in bed? she asked, luxuriating in his touch.

Christian said, kissing her ear. Satine sank a little lower into the armchair and sighed again.

Go lie down, darling, Christian said, placing his cheek next to hers as he spoke. Satine wrinkled her nose at him.

I don't want to lie down. I'll miss the New Year.

I'll wake you up in time. Satine paused, feeling the weight of her eyelids pressing down. Letting the cares of the world slip off her shoulders for a time sounded very attractive, indeed.

All right, she said, standing with his help. She smiled wanly at him and touched his hand. A little bit of weight and you suddenly become overprotective. Where does that come from, dear?

I'm sorry, Christian said, not meaning a word of it. Satine raised a knowing eyebrow as he supported her up the stairs.

No, don't be. She winced and pressed her hand down on his arm. I hate this.

I know, Christian said gently. He helped her up onto the bed and pulled her shoes off. I'm sorry, darling. Satine lay back in heap of pillows and sighed. Christian pulled several closely-written sheets of paper from his portfolio and was scowling at one when Satine spoke again.

she said. It's strange to think it'll really be 1904.

That much stranger than 1903? Christian asked, glad of a distraction. Satine played with her necklace and shrugged.

I don't know. It's just that with every year, it seems to be a surprise to me that I'm here. She was silent for a moment before she spoke again. That I'm never going back. Christian rose and sat down by her, wrapping his arm around her. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled by her hair.

You are never going back, Satine, he said, running a hand over her shoulder as he spoke. I promise you that. Satine smiled lopsidedly at him, and he kissed her forehead before settling back down beside him, to wait for the New Year together.

In the meantime, Margaret had slipped into a shadowy corner and was wondering why in heaven's name she was here. The room was filled with people her age and a few chaperones, but they all appeared monsters to Margaret. She glanced down at her new rose-coloured silk and jewelry Satine had lent her, and sighed. What was the good of having pretty things to wear if you didn't have the courage to face anyone when you had them on?

Margaret continued to argue with herself, but her natural reserve won in any case. She had outgrown her painfully shy stage when she couldn't speak to anyone, but a great deal of it had yet to be overcome. The very core of her spirit was vulnerable and shied away from careless human touch.

Excuse me, Mademoiselle? Margaret glanced up and flushed at the sight before her. Her first, fleeting impression was of a silky voice and a definite aura of charm. Then as her stunned senses came back into focus, she became aware of a handsome face framed by dark brown hair and piercing blue-green eyes. Margaret had no idea how fresh and pretty she looked against the background of the fern in the corner. Her slim, girlish figure wrapped in shirred silk lent an air of mystery and piquancy to her usual prim deportment. A soft brown curl had slipped from her hair combs and teased the curve of her cheek.

Margaret desperately tried to keep her voice steadier than her heart. She exhaled deeply and brushed her skirt off.

May I have the pleasure of being introduced to you? If it was possible, the voice became even darker and richer, sliding over her unsettled senses like warm honey.

I'm-- I'm Margaret Everett. I'm Christian Everett's younger sister-- visit-- visiting from England.

I see. If he noted her discomfort, he didn't show it. He bowed over her hand as if she were royalty. I am Paul Durand. No one's little sister, I'm afraid. Margaret laughed, her stiff posture relaxing a bit as she did so. Are you to be in France long, Mademoiselle Everett?

Yes, for quite some time.

Excellent. And your sister-in-law, is she well?

You know Satine? Margaret blurted out before she could stop herself. An amused quirk appeared on his lips, and he nodded.

Slightly. Madam Everett is quite the charming creature. . . or so I hear. I understand my mother is impressed with the Parisian manners these days.

Satine is the loveliest woman in the world, Margaret said firmly. She had a loyal heart, quick to defend those around her-- even when it was unnecessary.

I'm afraid I must contest that, Mademoiselle. His look left no doubt to the meaning of those words, and Margaret flushed a darker pink. As she glanced up, she began to smile. Her smile was what had caught Satine's interest in the first place. It was slow and sweet, and hinted at the beautiful secrets that were locked safely away in her soul.

Paul Durand was immediately caught by that smile. There were plenty of other girls out there-- some prettier, some far more willing to flirt than this little English maid. But none of them had anything to discover in them. Paul Durand was proud of his ability to draw things out of people, and it looked like he'd found a worthy interest in this sister-in-law of that absolutely stunning woman. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought of the pale skin and fiery hair that Satine Everett possessed. Lips kissed red by a passionate life, and smoky blue eyes that just begged you to discover her secrets. But Paul's friend Robert had tried to flirt with Madam Everett once. Paul hid a grin as he remembered the dainty turn of the nose up to the ceiling and the disdainful glance. She would not brook any play outside of her marriage, that much was clear. Pity, too, that a woman like that should be so attached to her husband. But he'd found a pleasing toy in Margaret Everett. And there would be no chance of a serious attachment. After all, the girl had to go back to England sometime.

The music started again, and he glanced around. Yes, the girl did have to go back to England sometime. But not now. Now. . .



He bowed again, and took her hand, noting with pleasure how easily she flushed against his touch.

We've just been introduced
I do not know you well
But when the music started
Something drew me to your side.

He drew her out onto the dance floor. Margaret felt confused and dizzy and happy all in the same moment. Was this what love was? He was so charming and caring! Just like Christian was with Satine. And maybe love was heaven-sent after all. . .

So many men and girls
Are in each other's arms
It made me think we might be similarly occupied.

Margaret raised an eyebrow, trying to mimic Satine when she talked with Christian, but the end result was more than a little comical. And as much as she strove to be coquettish, her voice only came out sweet and pure.

Shall we dance?
On a bright cloud of music shall we fly?
Shall we dance?
Shall we then say "goodnight" and mean "goodbye?"

Paul was pleasantly surprised by her words. Maybe this girl wasn't as naive as she appeared to be. At any rate, she was a nice little thing. Perhaps he could even be friends with her after he wooed her for a bit. He shot a glance up at the clock. A good way to start a New Year, that. A new romance.

Or, perchance when the last little star has left the sky
Shall we still be together with our arms around each other
And shall you be my new romance?
On the clear understanding that this kind of thing can happen
Shall we dance?
Shall we dance?
Shall we dance?

They were dancing together when the clock struck twelve, and Margaret thrilled to the sound of the bells with all her heart. She was in love. This had to be a good omen for the times to come. When the tide turned on the New Year, she had been dancing with Paul.

As the clock chimed a final time, Satine sank back down onto the chaise and smiled up at Christian. He ran to open the door to let the New Year in, and a chilly rush of air swept past him. Satine smiled and leaned her head against her hand. Another year. What would 1904 bring them? A child-- that was for certain. But what else? Joy? Heartache? Hope?

Another year of love, Christian said, coming to sit down by her. Satine smiled into his eyes.

Without a doubt.