The
Maximoff mansion where preparations were to be made going into the wedding
was in a state of chaos, with girls running around calling for their maids
and their dresses, servants hurriedly tripping in and out of the kitchen
carrying extravagant dishes of the fried chicken, luscious ham, and dumplings
that were to be served at the banquet after the wedding, carriages and
horses crowding the generous plantation grounds with the arrival of guests,
some from out of state, and musicians noisily tuning their instruments.
Amidst all the frenzied preparations for the elaborate ceremony that was
to take place later that evening, Rogue managed to slip in nearly unnoticed
on dainty, ribbon-laced pink slippers, her hair carefully swept up into
a fancy chignon that had taken over an hour to accomplish. The filmy pink
silk dress that she'd been wrestled into as part of her co-maid of honor
attire had taken even longer, with Miss Ororo switching from reasoning,
to admonishing, to nagging, to pleading, to manipulating in an effort to
wrangle Rogue into her dress.
"Ah
look like a nightmare in pink with mah red hair!" the fifteen-year-old
girl had protested, even as her corset had been laced and the "pink nightmare"
had been carefully lowered over her petticoats. Now, Rogue glanced around
stealthily, praying that nobody would see her until she could come up with
a way to lessen the clashing effect of pink on dark red once she'd snuck
into the room where the bride-to-be was being fussed over with some last
minute adjustments to her dress and hair. Quietly, toning down her own
bolder strides to mimic the light, gliding steps of her sisters, Rogue
crept up the stairs, darting across the hallways and occasionally even
hiding behind ornately-designed jardinières in an effort to make
sure she wouldn't be seen by Amara or Tabitha. Finally, she spotted the
door that she was sure led to Jean's dressing room, and quickened her steps
until she reached the ornately carved French doors and pulled them open...and
nearly fainted for the second time in her life.
The
figure framed behind the doorway had been just about to leave, and now
he gazed at her with the familiar amused twinkle in his red-tinted eyes,
as his upper lip curled up in a friendly grin and he greeted in that lazy,
drawling Cajun accent, "Ah, bonjour ma chérie ." As soon as Rogue
had recovered from her surprise, she quickly tried to regain her composure
while asking with as much ladylike dignity as possible, "Why, Mr. LeBeau,
Ah hardly expected to see you here again after you went philandering off
to New Orleans so soon after Ah'd recovered." Remy shot a lazy grin in
her direction, before casually explaining while shrugging his broad shoulders,
"Yes, well, I made a promise to Miss Jean that I would attend her wedding
no matter what--"
"And
Ah'm very glad that you seem to be enough of a gentleman to have at least
been telling the truth about that promise and kept it," Rogue broke
in acidly, unable to forget the fresh pain that seeing Remy again had brought
back. Remy's eyes darkened slightly, and the easygoing smile on his face
faded a notch as he thought up a counter to her biting comments.
"Well,
my wife and I had to settle some, er, rather personal business back home,"
he finally explained in a somewhat vague tone of voice, running a hand
through his longish dark brown hair. The old confidence returned, as he
brought a cigar up to the corner of his mouth and added, "But as you can
see, now that our problem has been taken care of, I've returned to keep
my promise to Miss Jean like I'd told her I would."
"That's
just so lovely of you," Rogue shot back, her voice dripping with blatant
sarcasm, then asked cruelly while flitting her eyelashes in his direction,
"So where
is your wife then, Remy--oh, pardon me, Mr. LeBeau?" The
cocky smile didn't slip from his face, as he fired back swiftly, "She's
in New Orleans, Miss Rogue, thank you for being considerate enough to ask
about her." Rogue suddenly felt that if they spent one more second talking
about his wife, her head would burst and she would scream, so she quickly
took a step backwards, sarcasm forgotten, and began to mumble, "Ah've got
to go now, Ah really have to talk with mah sister..."
Remy
abruptly reached forward and grasped her hand, holding her back and causing
her to turn around and look directly into his eyes. Rogue felt dizzy at
their nearness, but she forced herself to swallow her old feelings and
return his gaze with a carefully blank stare, ordering evenly, "Please,
Remy, let go of mah hand. Ah really do have to speak with Jean."
"I
will let go," Remy replied in an equally steady voice, "but only after
I've made one point clear to you." Rogue was afraid to meet his unveiled
eyes now, and she kept her gaze focused steadfastly on the space between
them as she asked in a slightly quavering voice, "What's that?"
"You've
probably heard rumors about my and Belladonna's separation," Remy began
calmly, and Rogue blushed as she remembered all the crazy gossip that had
blazed across the county like wildfire following his departure a few days
after her recovery.
"Ah...might
have heard something like that," she finally conceded in what she hoped
was a smooth voice. Remy looked amused by her modesty, and made sure she
knew about it when he told her, "There's no need to lie for my sake, Miss
Rogue, especially because I'll respect your wishes and keep away from this
county after Miss Jean's wedding." Rogue's head snapped up in shock, unwittingly
locking eyes with the Cajun she'd sworn she'd hate forever after his treachery.
"You'll
leave me?" But you can't! her mind screamed, a flash of desperation
quickly skirting across her eyes as she remembered those miserable two
months during which Remy had been away at New Orleans, before she forced
herself to calm down.
"After
all, you made your point quite clear to me that spring day when Belladonna
arrived," Remy was saying, his voice breaking into her thoughts and making
her look up at him in confusion. "Your entire family is devoutly Roman
Catholic, and would never approve of, let alone allow you, to marry a man
who's been divorced in his life, so there's really no reason why I should
keep coming back and serving as some nasty little reminder of that spring
afternoon proposal."
"You
won't?" Rogue's voice came out in a strangled little whisper before she
even realized it. Remy's reply was unusually calm, casually amused even.
"I
promise I won't--if that slap to the face is the way you respond to all
proposals, then I certainly don't want to subject myself to it again with
a second formal marriage proposal," he quipped, then had duck to avoid
another slap.
"You
scoundrel, how can you just toy with mah feelings like that?!" Tears sparkled
brightly on the corners of Rogue's moody green eyes as she glared at the
calmly amused Cajun, before she growled incomprehensibly into his face
and turned around so fast that she nearly fell down. Remy reached forward
and gently held her back to keep her from diving face-first onto the floor,
but as soon as his hands made contact with her waist she turned around
and violently wrenched herself free from his grasp, this time succeeding
in landing a slap onto his hands.
"Don't
touch me, you...you worm!" she bit out furiously, glaring daggers into
his carefully impassive eyes before hiking up her voluminous skirts and
running off.
Inside
an elaborately decorated dressing room and completely unaware of the verbal
exchange that had just occurred between Rogue and Remy, Kitty was practically
skipping around from excitement, risking tearing her dainty pink maid of
honor dress as she supervised some last-minute adjustments to her sister's
appearance.
"I
feel like I'm drowning in here," Jean's normally sweet, gentle voice spoke
up dryly from underneath a mountain of frothy, pearl-lined white silk.
Kitty laughed cheerfully, quipping, "Aw, Jean, you're starting to sound
like Rogue with all that sarcasm!" earning a somewhat half-hearted chuckle
or two from the beautiful redhead. An amiable silence settled between the
two sisters, during which one of the attending maids lowered a gossamer
veil over Jean's face while another placed a crown of tiny flowers on top
of her head.
"Kitty,"
Jean spoke up suddenly, her voice sounding strained as the other girls
continued to fuss over the perfect coiffures in her hair and the extravagant
diamond and silver jewelry she was supposed to wear, "do you think I'm
doing the right thing by marrying Pietro Maximoff?" Kitty snapped out of
her blissful wedding day dream world, blinking surprised cornflower-blue
eyes as she gasped, "Wh...what do you mean, Jean? Of course you're doing
the right thing by marrying, Pietro--I mean, he's handsome, he's charming,
he's a divine dancer, and granted he's a bit cocky, but that's really just
part of his charisma and all--"
"Kitty,
I'm marrying Pietro mainly because it would tremendously benefit both our
families," Jean spoke up evenly, and Kitty flushed while conceding, "Well
maybe that too, because it would help ease all the hostilities between
Papa and Mr. Maximoff, but--"
The arrival of Wanda Maximoff prevented any further conversation between the two sisters, as the cold raven-haired beauty entered the lavishly furnished dressing room and announced somewhat frostily, "The seamstress is finally here, after a two-hour delay, to adjust your wedding gown, Jean...apparently her carriage got stuck in the marshes and had to be pushed out by some of the county's finest." Kitty breathed a sigh of relief, partly because the hem of Jean's dress was still a bit too long and would need to be pinned up, partly because it signaled an interruption in Jean's train of doubts about her big wedding day. That's the last thing our family needs, the perkily pretty brunette thought delicately to herself, wrinkling her nose while silently adding, to be rocked by such a scandal as one of its own jilting her fiancé at the altar!
The Maximoff family cook, a large black man with an usually jolly demeanor, now glared crossly at Rogue and gritted out in a strained voice, "Please, Missy, git outta de way!" as he hurriedly pushed past her, carrying with him a huge ten-tier wedding cake and a request for yet more dishes to be prepared. Rogue dutifully flattened herself against a wall, too miserable to even muster any feelings of indignation at the way she'd been jostled around or to even notice that careless servants had stepped all over the hems of her expensive pink maid of honor dress when she'd forgotten to pull in its extravagant full skirts.
After the first wave of servants and chaos had passed, Rogue crept away from all the noise and excitement, trying to find a quiet, private place like the library where she could sulk without being interrupted or bumped into. Briefly, she tried to conjure up a mental map of the massive Maximoff plantation, but was quick to give up on that idea when she realized how hopeless it would be to try and remember where all the enormous hundred-plus rooms were situated, and instead trod along blindly, opening doors and then backing out when each time a throng of people would inevitably be already lodged inside, polishing crystals and silverware, arranging flowers, dusting the expensive furniture, checking over dresses and suits for any rips or tears, or busy preparing even more food. Finally, the auburn-haired girl managed to stumble her way into a darkened room that seemed deserted enough, and she quickly closed the door behind her and sank onto a velvet loveseat, closing her eyes and waiting for the tears she'd been holding in ever since her brief conversation with Remy to fall.
They
never had a chance to, when an all too familiar masculine voice spoke up,
"So you've been needing an escape from all this madness too, huh?" Rogue
snapped up guiltily, glancing around with a sinking feeling in her heart
while silently cursing herself for having missed Pietro's half-hidden form
by the heavy royal blue drapes.
"What
are you doing here, Pietro?" she asked wearily, feeling too drained to
even bother sniping with him. "With your kind of personality, Ah thought
you'd be out there amongst the crowds, basking in all the congratulations
and well-wishing!"
"That's
what everybody thinks of me," Pietro quipped, and Rogue wondered whether
she'd correctly heard a flash of bitterness in his voice. "But I don't
mind, it suits me just fine--better that they think I'm some sort of vain,
foolish pretty boy anyway; it's always an advantage when people have low
expectations of me."
"Low
expectations...?" Rogue's voice trailed off. Had she herself been underestimating
Pietro all this time? She'd always prided herself on being a good judge
of character...but look where that's led you, she chastised herself
with semi-bitterness, remembering her disastrous fallout with Remy and
the way cocky Pietro had always managed to make her speechless with a sprinkling
of well-placed comments and observations about her thoughts and feelings.
"Oh,
there's no need to feel sorry for me, Miss Rogue," Pietro was saying. "After
all, when I'm getting pity from a standoffish wallflower like you--no offense--then
I know I've really sunk to the bottom." Rogue was too lost in thought to
even realize that he'd casually snuck in another jibe at her aloofness,
instead observing quietly, "You're not exactly happy about marrying mah
sister so soon, are you? You're just not ready to make that kind of commitment."
Pietro was immediately on the defensive, as he snapped up and babbled in
an angry arsenal of words, "What do you mean, not happy? Hey, I know
exactly what I want, and when I want it, and...of course I'm ready for
that kind of commitment, I just told you I'm not some sort of idiotic playboy,
didn't I...?" Rogue smirked, enjoying the fact that, for once, she had
the advantage over him.
"Pietro,
listen to yourself," she interrupted calmly. "You're not trying to convince
me that you're ready or even really want to marry Jean, you're trying to
convince yourself--and you're failing."
"I--"
Pietro opened his mouth, a thousand retorts ready to be fired off, then
seemed to reconsider and reluctantly closed it, his eyes and slight slump
of posture signaling his defeat.
"Think
about it," Rogue told him, still smirking, even though she knew it was
terrible to feel any amusement about something as serious as a possibly
failed marriage, "the only reason you're marrying mah sister is to benefit
your father--"
"Oh,
shut up!" Pietro broke in abruptly, stalking away from his position by
the curtains and elbowing past her to stride out of the room.
"Where
are you going?" Rogue asked, feeling a small blaze of curiosity begin to
flare up despite her thundercloud of distress and anger over losing Remy.
Was Pietro going to call the wedding off? Alarm bells began ringing inside
her head, as she inwardly screamed,
No! He can't do that! Think of all
the dishonor and scandal it will bring to both our families...and Ah'll
be the cause of all of it. Her head hung in shame, as she realized
that she'd carried her teasing and taunting too far...and yet somehow,
she just knew that if Pietro really
was going to call off the wedding,
she would do nothing to stand in his way. She couldn't. Was it just a virtuous
selflessness on her part to allow him to seek an end to a mistake before
it happened...or just some sort of terrible selfishness because she wanted
to keep Pietro around, unmarried and therefore still attainable, until
she resolved her conflicting feelings about both him and Remy?
"I
need some time alone to think," Pietro's cool, carefully even response
broke into her jumble of thoughts, and Rogue looked up just in time to
catch a glimpse of his disappearing back, feeling a strange mix of disappointment
and relief at his vague yet non-drastic answer.
An uncharacteristic wave of panic seized the Maximoff mansion with just an hour left before the elaborate wedding ceremony. All the food was prepared and laid out carefully over long tables covered with the family's best white cloths, the elegant chandelier, with its five thousand diamond lights, sparkled dazzlingly like a welcoming beacon to the festivities, the halls were sweet with the fragrances of flowers, and the carriage was hitched and ready to take the bride and groom to the nearby church where a priest awaited to wed them. Only...
"Mist'
Maximoff is gone! He's gone! We can't find him!" a terrified little black
girl ran madly across the halls, screeching out her words like a siren.
Inside the mansion, shocked heads began peeking out of rooms, as guests
and servants alike wondered, "Mr. Maximoff? Why would the family patriarch
depart when the ceremony's about to begin in an hour?"
"Not
the elder Mist' Maximoff! Mist' Pietro!" the little girl hastily corrected
herself, then careened around a corner to announce the distressing news
to the young belles who were in the garden by the rose beds.
"Mist'
Pietro's disappeared! We can't find him!" she wailed shrilly, causing a
wave of hushed conversation to ripple across the multitude of elegantly-dressed
girls. The little servant's distressed call floated up a window, where
seated inside Jean was staring fixedly at her reflection in a mirror with
Kitty a few yards away tucking some violets into her sash. The younger
sister froze in mid-movement when she heard the announcement that Pietro
had disappeared, gasping indignantly, "Why, what kind of a cad is he to
just walk out of his own wedding...?" before she suddenly remembered that
his bride-to-be was in the same room, and had heard the announcement as
well. Kitty immediately rushed over to comfort Jean, nearly tripping over
her long skirts and yards of ribbons in the process as she cried comfortingly,
"Oh, Jean, I'm so terribly sorry it's happened!" Jean's face, peeking out
from behind Kitty's lustrous chestnut hair as the younger girl swept her
in a sorrowful hug, was surprisingly calm, as she replied evenly, "It's
all right, Kitty. Please don't cry for my sake, I'll be fine." Kitty leaned
back, every bit as shocked by her sister's peculiarly composed response
as she'd been by news of Pietro's disappearing act.
"But..."
she sniffled, wondering whether this was just a customary reaction by her
always dignified sister. Surely not even Jean could remain this poised
when faced with news that the supposed love of her life had just bolted,
could she? But Jean was speaking now.
"In
a way," she admitted with a shrug, "I'm glad he feels the same way. It's
saved us both from an unhappy, albeit highly beneficial, marriage." Kitty
was staring at her oldest sister in disbelief, as the elegant redhead stood
up and stepped out of her white satin slippers while taking her shimmery
veil off at the same time, her full white skirts billowing gracefully around
her with each movement.
"Jean...what
are you doing?" she asked, incredulity mixed with curiosity at her sister's
actions.
"I'm
changing out of this wedding dress--there's no need for it now, since there
isn't going to be a wedding," Jean replied calmly, slipping the sleeves
off her shoulders.
"But--"
Kitty tried to sputter out a feeble protest.
"Kitty,
you're still very young--you don't think of marriage as anything beyond
lovely wedding gowns or traveling around the world on a lengthy honeymoon,"
Jean was saying amiably. "Maybe once you've grown older, you'll realize
that marriage is a commitment far deeper than elaborate wedding parties.
Now, will you please help me change out of this?" Part of Kitty wanted
to protest that she was throwing away a perfectly good husband, the other
part wanted to huffily point out that, at sixteen, Jean was only two years
older than her. But Kitty kept these thoughts, amongst others, unspoken,
and instead silently moved over and helped raise the frothy, delicate wedding
gown up and over Jean's flaxen corset cover and three lace petticoats.
Rogue
froze in shock and dismay when she heard the alarming announcement that
Pietro had disappeared, feeling wave after wave of shame and guilt roll
over her like some horrible ocean tide. Had she done it? Had she, bitter
little creature that she'd been over her loss of Remy, been the cause of
all this? And even now, when the supposed fairy tale wedding had been utterly
ruined, why did she still dare to feel a tingle of relief and hope that
Pietro was still single, and, by default, still attainable, no matter how
slim her chances probably were with him? Rogue hated herself at that moment,
hated herself because she might have just destroyed her own sister's chance
at happiness, hated herself because she still couldn't make up her mind
over whom she wanted, Remy or Pietro, hated herself because now Remy didn't
want her so that must mean there was some horrible quality about her, hated
herself because she still didn't know whether she loved Pietro or detested
him, hated herself...
"Come
with me," a male voice whispered from somewhere behind her, and Rogue froze,
momentarily stopping berating herself as she paused to listen without daring
turn around. The voice continued to speak, adding simply, "Meet me by the
virgin forests at the edge of this plantation...I'll take you away from
all this." And then he was gone, having spoken in too low a whisper for
her to identify his voice and just barely decipher his words. Could
it be...It must be him! Rogue felt her heart pick up speed with excitement,
as she dropped the rose garland she'd been half-heartedly trying to weave
and sped off in a rustle of skirts and honeysuckle fragrance.
A carriage
was waiting for her by the edge of the black pine forests bordering the
Maximoff plantation, just like he'd promised, as he reached out with one
hand and helped pull Rogue into its soft, velvet interiors beside him.
Rogue was almost faint with exhilaration, and, fearing that she might collapse
unconscious for the second time in her life, she began quickly babbling
about everything and nothing in an effort to get her mind off her crazy
decision.
"Ah
probably shouldn't even be here," she stammered nervously, glancing out
the carriage window and noticing the various clusters of people that had
begun to filter out of the mansion. "Ah mean, this is nothing short of
elopement, and mah family would be forever dishonored by such a scandalous
decision...and Ah don't even know how mah religion would punish me for
this kind of action...and did you notice how nice the weather is today?...and..."
The man had remained curiously silent throughout her entire rant, despite
his air of charmed amusement at her nervous words that Rogue had managed
to sense, and now she turned around to speak directly to him.
"Ah
should probably just get off here and go back to the plantation..." Her
voice trailed off, and her eyes widened in shocked surprise when she recognized
the all too familiar features, before narrowing in anger as she spat out
a single word.
"You!"
she hissed acidly, and the devilish grin that sprang up on his lips were
enough to make her want to strangle him.
