A/N: WARNING! There is a rape scene involving a minor in this chapter. This is probably going to be the most graphic chapter in the story, so if this bothers you, please skip it. You won't really lose out on the story, just a little background info.
Nicole strode confidently to her carriage, overwhelmed with pride. She was certain that Raoul would soon be hers. That dreary wife of his could hardly be deemed competition. From within the carriage she ordered the driver to take her to the home she was using in the city. When she arrived she found it empty, a state that she was accustomed to. From a very young age she was generally ignored by her parents. Gifts and indulgence served as a replacement for their love and presence. She quickly became spoiled, expecting the world fall to its knees at her command. Friends and governesses moved quickly in and out of her life. She had learned to become attached to no one. She had felt no twinge of loss when both her parents had been killed in accident when she was 15. She had, however, played the part of the mourning daughter, absorbing the sympathy and kindness provided her.
"Brigitte, prepare a warm bath. Use the lavender oil," she commanded as the butler stepped forward to remove her cloak and take her gloves. Brigitte curtsied timidly and scurried off to prepare the water.
"Tea, Mademoiselle?" the butler asked.
"I will take it in the library," she answered as she pulled the pins from her hair, allowing her long tresses to flow freely across her back.
She sat in the largest armchair in the room as the tea service was placed on the cherry oak table beside her. She waited until the butler had bowed and walked from the room before moving determinedly towards the book shelves. She selected a leather-bound book, barely distinguishable from the ones that surrounded it. She opened it and removed the bottle of brandy hidden inside. She drank her tea until the cup was half empty. She then filled it with the amber liquid from the bottle. She drained it quickly, feeling it burn as it traveled down her throat. She drank several cups in this manner, the tea within the pot almost gone. The familiar numbness swept over her again, putting her at ease. She replaced the bottle and the book back on the shelf when Brigitte knocked at the door.
After Brigitte removed her dress and undergarments, Nicole slipped into the hot water, the soothing aroma of the oil filling her nostrils. After she had been washed, she dismissed Brigitte and slid lower into the water. She moved her hands along the smooth skin of her arms, imagining that it was Raoul's touch that caressed her. He had been, she reflected, the only man who was genuinely kind to her with no self-serving motivations. Any other man bold enough to spend time with her desired either her money or her title, but Raoul was content with her friendship. Perhaps it was his disinterest in courting her that had first drawn her to him. He was handsome, of course, and wealthy, but there were dozens of other men just like him falling over themselves for her. As she said, she always enjoyed a challenge.
The water began to cool, so Nicole stood from the tub. The water dripped to the floor as she walked to the door where her robe was waiting for her. She sat in front of her vanity mirror as Brigitte brushed out her hair.
"Now leave me," Nicole said as she finished. She wrapped her white chiffon robe tightly around her and sauntered over to the large window that overlooked a stunning cathedral. She appreciated the beauty of the stained glass and the spiraled steeples, but her admiration of it went no deeper. She had been raised in the traditions of the Roman Catholic Church, but she could recall with excruciating detail the exact day she had lost her faith in an all-powerful, loving God.
She had recently turned 13 and was permitted to attend a party held by her parents, if only for a few brief minutes. Although she would only be present for a short time, she spent hours preparing for her appearance. Madame Follet, her most recent governess, had taken her into town to buy a new dress just for the occasion. The pale pink complemented her fair complexion and light hair. Her curls were pulled up with jeweled pins and she was even permitted to wear a small amount of perfume. She looked as a woman beyond her years. Her mother paraded her around the room, referring to Nicole as her "little porcelain doll." Once she had been introduced and shown off, her mother had no further need of her and she was sent up to her room for the evening. She refused to take off her dress, causing Madame Follet to storm from the room in exasperation. Nicole lifted a doll from her bed and danced with it to the music that floated up the steps to her ears.
She jumped when her door opened and a middle-aged man stumbled in. Excuse me, Monsieur, she said politely, but I believe you have lost your way. He staggered towards her, a drunken smile plastered to his face. You are very pretty, Mademoiselle, he slurred. His breath reeked of liquor, making Nicole's nose crinkle in disgust. She tried to step away from him, but he grabbed hold of her arm. No need to leave yet, my beauty. We were just becoming friends. He caressed her cheek. She turned her head and bit him hard on the hand. He cursed loudly and slapped her across the face before throwing her on the bed. She kicked and screamed as he took off his pants, but her cries were drowned out by the music and chatter downstairs. He removed her dress, careful not to rip it. She made one last plea before he plunged painfully into her. He ignored her tears, absorbed in his own pleasure. She lay silently, praying for God to end her torture. Finally, he released and lifted himself from her. He said nothing as he replaced his clothes and walked from her room to return to the party. She curled up in her bed and pulled her blanket tightly to her.
She was waiting the next morning when her parents descended the stairs for breakfast. When they were alone, she told them what had happened. Her mother said nothing as her father berated her, calling her a liar. She motioned to the bruise across her cheek, but her father explained it away as the probable result of a fall. No man of breeding would need to find pleasure in a 13 year-old girl, he had told her. She was to go to the priest immediately and make penance for her lie. God would not accept a liar into heaven. She ran from their house in a rage, not returning until the sun was gone from the sky. Her mother sat by the fire in the salon as Nicole timidly approached her. Your father has spoken and his word is final. We will hear nothing more of this story.
Nicole brought a hand to her mouth, the memory cutting through her. She opened a drawer in her armoire and removed the decanter within. She took a deep swig, panting as she set it down. She pulled back the blankets on her bed and lay her head against the soft pillow. What did it matter anymore? She always got what she wanted in the end. And soon she would have Raoul. When he was old enough, Nicole could send Christophe away to school. Or better still, he could go to live with his mother. Nicole would have Raoul completely to herself. She smiled at her plans, anxious for the night to end and tomorrow evening to come.