Chapter 2
The night was chilled and the moon was high. Its silvery light spilled like a sharp whisper into Celine's room, so bright because the moon was at its fullest part of its cycle. A soft breeze drifted through her open window and brought a gold tinged leaf to Celine, where she sat in the upper corner of her bed against the wall, and landed in her lap. She picked it up and spun it between her fingers, hardly noticing what she was doing.
Her mind was filled with more anxiety than she cared to admit to anyone but herself. Stupid, that was what she was. She had just been frightened into an engagement to her fiance simply because he had hurt her hand. How foolish could a female behave. She would now become the victim of abuse from her future husband all for a little extra money for her family?
No, don't be so selfish, she thought to herself. Her family needed this. Perhaps Roland had simply been anxious. Perhaps he had hoped so badly that she would say 'yes' that he had let it get the better of him and thus squeezed her hand to quicken her reply.
No, that could not be the case. She had begun to tell him that she would think about his offer.
Oh! Silly girl, she was! Such a reply would have damaged his reputation. No wonder he had become upset. For such a well bred man to be put in a limbo by a country girl. It was unheard of. Besides, she hardly knew him at all. She should not assume from one harsh squeeze of her fingers that Roland would beat her.
But then… No man, no matter how high in status, had the right to will a woman to marry him with belligerent stares like he had done.
Celine switched back and forth between defending Roland and defending herself, and all the while hated that she and he were on opposing sides in her mind. She felt belittled that he had not even thought to court her for at least a few short weeks before asking for her hand. And deep down she knew this was because doing such a thing would shame him. Properly courting an improper lady would cause nothing but gossip on his end. But a whirlwind engagement to the daughter of the court's still most famous courtesan was romantic and possibly even understood to his fellow men and women.
They had all seen Celine before, when Mother was still alive. She had brought her daughters to every party she attended, always making Celine walk a little in front of Agnes and Amelie. Celine could not, of course, make much conversation with the guests, given that she was not yet eighteen, but this only gave her a flair of mystery and made her more desirable.
What Mother did was not a show of favoritism for Celine, but rather to her sisters. Mother had hoped Celine would catch the eye of her hundreds of prospective future husbands within the court. And she always did.
Celine was to become the family's financial security. Mother had told her every day in a no nonsense manner, that Celine was the most beautiful of her sisters, and thus she was to use her beauty, and all that Mother would teach her, to seduce a wealthy man into marriage with her. She taught her to read and write, to converse with a man as if he was the only man in the world, to smile in such a way as to appear mysterious… Anything that would cause the upper class women to envy and praise her and the men to be drawn to her in an intoxicating way.
All the while, Mother used her earnings to buy everything Anges and Amelie desired. She favoured them greatly, despite their lack of luster and grace. They had no need for those things- that was Celine's burden to bare. She fed them delicacies and coddled them like any loving mother would, and often left Celine with Father.
Father was different from Mother, despite his obsession with her. He treated all his daughters with equality, sometimes even showing slight favour to Celine simply because she looked almost exactly like Mother, only, dare he think it.. more beautiful.
Father had always been like Mother's lost puppy. He had followed her though everything she did, and loved her far deeper than perhaps she did him. Even though Mother had stayed a courtesan long after she married Father, he never knew it. Or perhaps, was in denial. He had been well off when first they married, but with the untimely death of his parents by influenza- the same sickness that later took his wife, his fortune had become all but dust. Mother knew this, but still, she loved her husband, so she secretly escorted high class men in order to restore her family's fortune. No one in court knew, save for the men she escorted. And thus, her family was able to stay high in status, and high in admiration.
With her death, everything Celine and her family had vanished. Mother only earned fine dresses and furniture, and often spent more of Father's money than he really had without thinking of it. No one ever paid her with coin, only lavish things.
And now, here Celine and her family resided- in this tiny cottage, selling vegetables and fruit from their small bit of land to bakers and florists. It was pure luck that this little home had housed a family of four before they sold it to Celine's family. This meant that there were enough little bedrooms that each sister and Father got his and her own rooms. A blessing, it was. Amelie tended to snore deep into the night- hardly set up for a pleasant night's rest for the rest of the family, had they been forced to share a bedroom.
Chills ran up Celine's spine as, presently, a howl sounded from the forest not far from her home. She gasped, startled. It was blood-curdling, and caused her fears of the future to be temporarily forgotten.
Perhaps God thought it funny to not let her sleep this night. Too much adrenaline pumped through her veins from the urge to run from the sound to let her sleep now.
Wolves were present in the woods, but it was uncommon for them to come so close to human territory. Odd.. Celine reached forward and shut her window, yanking her arms in quickly for fear that some hideous creature stood below. But, alas, there was nothing. She still feared beasts like a child and she was meant to be married soon. A blush rose to her cheeks. How was she to do this?
Cinderella became engaged to her prince within a few days of first laying eyes on him. And they had lived happily ever after.. Celine could do the same.
The small tear that rolled down her cheek contradicted her own half-hearted hopeful thoughts. She wondered if she missed mother at all, and realized she did. Mother, though she had been foolish with money and harsh with her daughter, had been full of advice on practically every feminine matter. She could put Celine's mind at ease, given that she was still alive.
But she was not.
Celine lay down in her bed, realizing she might possibly be exhausted enough for rest now. She kept a wary eye on the window, still curious about the vicious howl that had sounded moments ago. She waited with slightly baited breath for another bone-chilling noise, and shook her head and fell into sleep when it did not come.
It was Amelie that awoke Celine the next morning. Celine's jade green eyes shot open to the sound of her sister's voice.
"You are so spoiled! I would throw you out now, little sister, if I had the power. It is past noon. WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL SLEEPING." Amelie's black hair was in a small bun at the back of her head. This was strange. She never did her hair unless company was coming, though in their glory days, both she and Agnes would let Mother twist their hair into complicated arrangements for balls and the like.
Stranger still was that she would be shouting at Celine in such a manner. She was not above throwing tantrums, given her cushioned upbringing, but this was clearly uncalled for.
"What is it you need, dear sister?" asked Celine indifferently, hiding her annoyance and batting her eyelashes.
"For starters, your damned head on a pike for not waking earlier and picking the vegetables. It was your turn today.
Anyways, here". Amelie through something at Celine's bed and turned on her heel and stormed out.
Celine rolled her eyes, rubbed them, and sat up. She felt guilty for sleeping so late. Truth be told she had forgotten, given last night's monumental events, that it was her job today to tend to the garden. Though it would be in vane, she would apologize to her sisters later.
She stared around her little chamber as she sat up. A small wooden chair sat in the corner with an equally small table in front of it. Twas her little poetry corner where she passed away the hours when she wasn't busy. To the left was a wardrobe that had once been painted hunter green. Now half the paint had chipped away, leaving the wardrobe an object only to be used for function, if not beauty. It was home to her few dresses.
Celine's bed covers were white and thin. She would have to make a new, thicker blanket now that autumn was upon her.
Surely life in a manor would be better than this… Could be better than this. Life wasn't made of jewels, but it certainly could not hurt.
Celine turned her eyes to the parcel lying on the bed that her sister had thrown. That explained why her hair had been done. Company had been over to deliver this. It looked precisely like the invitation Roland had sent her family a week ago. Rubbing her temples in wait of the headache she was sure to have, Celine opened the letter. It was, of course, an invitation. It was addressed to her but was meant for the entire family, and asked them all to kindly join the Colne family at their manor, that they may partake of the celebration to be held there, in honour of Celine and Roland's engagement.
Ahh, yes, there was the headache. If she was not mistaken, Celine thought it was rather thoughtful to inform your fiancee when you are going to through a party that she is to be the centre of attention at, even if you have only known her for a day.
Knowing this was as petty a thought as any, it occurred to her than she didn't have anything to wear. Beautiful as mother's dresses were, they were only at the height of fashion a few years ago. They were barely acceptable at last night's dinner, let alone at a ball in her honour that half the country would surely be at. No need to embarrass her new future husband.
With a small sigh, Celine made her way out of her little bedroom and descended the stairs into the small first floor living area of her home. Perhaps Mother had something she could fashion into a more modern gown. All of her dresses were kept in the largest wardrobe in the cottage near the entryway of the home. On her way there Celine passed through the kitchen. The dishes from her sister's breakfast were still sitting in the sink. They had never really fully adjusted to life as their own servant…
Shaking her head, she entered the front living space and headed for the wardrobe. Before she reached it, something gold caught her eye. Turning, Celine saw a ballgown, sparkling like jewels and tossed onto a barely cushioned chair. Intrigued, she drifted towards it, only to be interrupted by Agnes.
"He left that for you". She was leaning against the doorway from the kitchen, her arms folded and sneer in place.
"Who?" asked Celine, too distracted by her sister's anger to comprehend what he meant.
Agnes' eyes flashed. "The messenger who brought you the damned letter, dimwit!" She took a deep breath to calm herself. Celine was so stupid it was practically unbearable. Nevermind that her fiancé did not think to bring any dresses for her and Amelie. It was bad enough being the eldest and probably the last to be married without being disrespected by her sister's lover. She would bet they had been secretly meeting for months. Spoiled brat.
Celine contemplated fixing up two of mother's dresses for her sister. A spark of defiance changed her mind. How could her own flesh and blood behave in such a manner? She knew this had to cause jealousy, and even felt sympathy for her sisters, but they could have spoken up at any time and asked Mother to teach them the art of catching a husband. She sickened at the thought. 'Catching a husband'… like this was a sport and not a love dance.
"Very well" Celine replied, then picked up the gown with care and brushed past her sister and went back to her bedroom. According to the invitation, she was to be at the manor by six o'clock. Which meant, considering the hour long travel to Roland, she had four hours to ready herself. Her hair alone was exhausting to prepare, and her arms required rest every fifteen or so minutes when they became sore from holding them up as she twisted and curled her silky chocolate locks into delicate knots and braids. She was best off getting started sooner rather than later.
About an hour into this process, she heard Agnes and Amelie retire to the back garden to gossip about her. This was an almost weekly routine, and often an amusing one, too. They must exhaust themselves by viewing her in such a hostile manner as they did. She could never recall half the stories they exchanged about her, and when she could, they were, in her memories, quite different from the way they told them.
She wondered how they could be so bored as to gossip like stuffy elders when there were so many things to do here. Besides the constant financial worries, Celine found life in the country to be quite pleasant. The birds sang prettier here than in the city. The flowers in the field a few minutes' walk away were sweet smelling and pleasing to any eye. Yet her sisters wanted none of it.
Still, Celine couldn't blame them, really. She was taught to prosper no matter the circumstances. They were taught to rely upon her for strength. Their only fault was the manner in which they chose to draw strength from her: through cruelty. No person could truly be taught to do that. That was their own conscious decision.
Celine stopped gazing out the window and was about to return to her hair when she heard the front door open and slam shut. Father was back. She had only vaguely wondered where the old man had gone, and now felt guilt over it.
"Girls! Quick! Wonderful news! You will not believe your ears, I swear it!" His voice rang excitedly through the house, and Agnes and Amelie could be heard running inside to listen in on the news. Celine supposed she should see what all the fuss was about.
Father stared at her as she descended the stairs into the kitchen. The shimmer of her gown reflected in her dark hair, and the ruffles and bows appeared elegant on her where they appeared misplaced on his other two daughters, who were also dressed in a suitable manner for a ball.
"Beautiful" he breathed. When he married her mother, he never imagined that a being could be more divine. Yet, here was his child, lovelier than any other female he had seen before.
Excitement momentarily forgotten, he inquired why his daughters were so fancily dressed.
"There is a ball tonight, father, at Roland's manor. It is in honour of our engagement" Celine explained, blushing at the last sentence and lowering her voice as she said it.
There was a pause as he continued to stare blankly at his daughters, before Father remembered his good fortune.
"Ah! Well, good, good! And now, I have something to tell you girls too.
We've fallen into wealth! I kid you not! We have an aunt, long lost, about a league from here. She's died! Is that not wonderful?!" He had the same tone he had used when telling Celine yesterday that Roland would propose to her. And Celine had the same feeling now that she had felt then. His happiness was her confusion.
"Wait, wait, Father, may I see that?" Her question was almost drowned out by her sisters' squeals.
"We will be rich again! O, heavens, God loves me most afterall. We'll be richer than you, Celine, I am sure of it!". Amelie may as well have stuck her tongue out at Celine for all the immaturity her statement held. Celine rolled her eyes and reached for the letter her Father held in his hand. Amelie and Agnes joined hands and danced around the room. Celine's headache increased as she opened the letter.
It was addressed to Father, and requested his immediate presence at the residence of some Aunt… Fiona, on account of her death. Celine could not recall such a woman, but then Mother had only told her of a few of her relatives. It was not unlikely that they had an aunt none of them knew about.
"I must go at once. At once!", cried Father, still giggling.
"No, Father, please, wait until tomorrow. Night may fall before you have even reached this place. We don't even know where it is. Attend the ball with your daughters tonight and search for this place tomorrow."Celine pleaded gently with him.
"No, it's only three hour's ride from here, you see! Look at the map"cried Father, pointing to the paper in Celine's hand.
On the bottom of the notice was indeed a map. According to it, this Aunt Fiona's abode was but a league from where Colne Manor was. He was right. But so was Celine. It would be nightfall before he got there.
"Please Father, I beg of you, wait until tomorrow" Celine tried again. Tonight's ball was in her honour and he wanted to miss it for a less than pressing matter? And besides, he was not young anymore and she worried for his health if he was to travel so far.
"O do shut up, Celine. You are so selfish" began Agnes. "Just because you are marrying into money does not mean your family still has to live in poverty". Her nose wrinkled in disgust at her younger sister.
"That is not my intentions!" Celine defended herself. However, she could already see that it was useless. Father was stubborn, young or old. Celine sighed in defeat.
"Very well than Father, I wish you a safe journey". She handed back the map to him.
Father whooped, snatched the parcel and rushed to don his cloak. He ran about the house gathering his things while Celine fought back the urge to protest. This was not wise somehow, and she knew it.
She saw that his boots were muddy, though she had cleaned them just the day before, and longed to clean them before he galloped off on his little adventure. She cared for him more like a parent would a child than a daughter would for her father.
Her maternal notions were set aside when Father threw open the front door of the cottage to reveal a coachman stepping down from his carriage.
"Ah! Good afternoon, sir!" Father said to the young man before running to struggle onto his own horse tied to a nearby tree.
The coachman looked bewildered, having planned on taking the man to Colne Manor himself. He wondered why the man would want to ride his filthy horse when Roland had sent so luxurious a means of transport to his family.
Nonetheless, he had to be polite. Besides, the man was pitiful.
"Uh.. sir! Do you require any help mounting your, ah.. steed?" he asked curiously.
"No no boy, I have quite got a handle… on.. this" replied the older man, finally sitting upright, his big belly resting on the saddle. With that, he rode off, looking clumsy in the saddle and eliciting more worry from his youngest daughter.
Just then, Agnes and Amelie bustled out the front door, declaring themselves ready to depart. The coachmen, who had been watching Father disappear leaving a trail of dust, turned to his daughters.
Looking all three up and down, he decided the louder two could not possibly be the future brides. One, obviously the elder, was dressed in a pink gown closely resembling her sister's, bore a striking resemblance to Lord Cromwell, the second wealthiest man in the land who also bore a striking resemblance to a pug. Odd.. He remembered him specifically because he'd spat in his face for spashing mud no his shoes when he walked past him one day.
The coachman's services had not been required last night at Colne Manor, so this was his first time seeing Roland's scandalous pick. Yes, it had to be the dark-haired beauty in the doorway. He stood, mesmerised for a moment by her elven beauty before remembering his manners, and his duty for that matter.
"You must be the fiancée. I congratulate you, my lady, on the fine match" he smiled. "Now please, the carriage awaits".
Celine blinked and cleared her throat. "Thank you sir" she said politely, unsure of what to say as she couldn't agree less that this was a fine match. The coachman opened the carriage door for her and she and her sister's climbed inside, all with mixed feelings about tonight's events.
Celine's father raced through the forest that surrounded the little country he knew and loved and had called home since he was a child. According to the fancy little map on the bottom of this letter, he should come across a path….
Now! There it was, just as the handy map said; a dirt path covered by fallen leaves, all bright orange, yellow, and red in colour. He was normally rather useless with finding where he needed to go, but the map was so clear he felt smarter than he had in ages.
Spirits high, he kicked his mount from a trot to a gallop, knowing that he would be coming up on the castle soon, as he had been travelling for a few hours now. Agnes and Amelie would be proud of him, he was sure.
They had always favoured his wife. Yet he had treated all of his daughters equally, unlike she, with her strange dislike of Celine.
Confound it! He could not understand why! Celine was angelic… her skin so milky, her eyes so big, her hair so long and pretty… Why would any mother not be proud of her?
But then what did it matter, really? His wife had been a smart woman. She knew what she was doing at all times. He grinned widely, lost in his own thoughts.
Pretending his wife was looking down upon him was his favourite game. He was sure she too would be proud of him for racing off to collect this money so quickly. No doubt other greedy relatives would be trying to swoop down upon his inheritance. O, they would be most disappointed.
Aha! There is was. Father came upon a manor, well hidden by the looming trees around it. Heh. Small thing, it was. He pulled his horse to a walk and shrugged. Maybe this old hag Fiona had put all of her money into savings, and died surrounded by cats like a common spinster. Of course.
However, as he drew closer to the residence and the trees gave way to more view of it, he saw that it was not so very small at all. In fact… the closer he got, the higher he saw the manor… no, castle, stretched upwards into the heavens. It was marvelous.
What luck! The money within these walls must be plenty indeed! He plopped down from his mount and tied the animal's reins to a tree off to the left of the entrance of the castle, excitedly anticipating what lay within.
Celine felt more nervous tonight than she had at last night's event. This time, there were more high class ladies and men than she could count. The ballroom was full to its maximum capacity, filled with beautiful sparkling gowns and glittering chandeliers.
Despite all this grandeur and beauty, Roland seemed to be more apt to sneer than celebrate. Any act he had put on last night had all but vanished tonight. He looked less handsome now, even with his navy midnight overcoat. Celine was fascinated by it, staring at the gold threaded patterns that weaved over the sleeves to avoid looking her fiancé in the eye.
Still, she felt she was doing at least fairly well. Women that Mother had been acquaintances with that Celine had always wished to speak to were there, and were more than happy to make conversation with her. Even if this was simply to flatter Roland due to his family's pattern, they provided interesting enough stories, though Celine only nodded to the gossip. So intriguing these people were, and yet so petty.
The courtesans proved to be the most fun. They teased her about how stuffy Roland tended to be. The comments one of them made on his preferences in bed were hardly appreciated however. Celine had always hoped her husband would have saved himself for her. She was not so naïve as to think that it would certainly happen, but to have her hope crushed was a blow indeed.
The men seemed to stay away from her. Whether she was that undesirable or they were intimidated by Roland, who scarcely left her side, Celine was not certain.
One oddity Celine noticed quite quickly was that Roland seemed to bare a remarkable resemblance to her. He had her same bright green eyes, and his hands were simply a more masculine version of her own. When Celine gasped at the realization, Roland raised an eyebrow to her.
"O what the hell is it? Surely being in the presence of so many admired upper class citizens is not making you faint?" Roland chuckled at his own joke and went to go look for a servant who was serving wine to his guests. He mumbled darkly about them never being around when he wanted a little alcohol and stalked off, giving Celine a chance to breathe.
Her sisters, on the other hand, were having a seemingly marvellous time. They flirted with every good looking man they could find. The men seemed willing enough, too, until they had been in their company for more than a few minutes. At that point Agnes and Amelie would have annoyed the men too far with being what they dubbed as "charming", and the men would scanter away to find a more graceful lady's company. The sisters took no notice and went man-hunting again each time this happened.
Roland returned to Celine not long after he had gone, looking slightly flushed now that he had drunk his wine.
"Ah.." Celine began. She was searching for the right name to call him. Finally, after settling on darling, having decided that Roland may be disrespectful and Lord Colne too formal, she began again. "Darling, I need a bit of fresh air. You do not mind, I hope?" She spoke with the utmost elegance, and hoped this would entrance him long enough to let her go. She was feeling overheated and there was really no need for her to be so readily available for congratulations any longer. The party was already three hours old at least.
"Shut up! The king and queen are coming" hissed Roland, grabbing her wrist with enough force to draw a little pained cry from Celine. They had made their grand entrance hours ago but had had yet to compliment Roland and Celine on such a fine party, as politeness called for.
Celine swallowed and greeted them with a deep curtsy.
"Well now! What have we here? What a lovely creature. Do tell, Roland, why did you keep your courtship with this pretty thing a secret for so long?". So the queen, too, assumed they had been hiding something. It was unfortunate that this was not the case. Even a secret romance would be more acceptable than the two hour dinner and engagement that had taken place.
It was known that the queen was a nosy woman, but given that Celine wanted to know Roland's answer, she was thankful for that flaw for the time being.
"Well" said Roland, rising smoothly. "We all want what we cannot have, do we not? If I had let anyone know that I had made Celine my own, every man in the country would have been trying to steal her from me!" He grinned in a suave manner.
Roland was a very good actor. Celine could admit to that.
The king nodded in acceptance to this answer.
Celine tried to keep her attention on the magisterial conversation that followed, but found herself distracted by her numbing wrist, which Roland still had a vice-like grip upon.
Father knocked upon the heavy mahogany door at the front of the castle. Almost immediately, the doors swung open. Eerily, he realized this was seemingly of their own accord. He hoped the inheritance included money only, and not this castle, if it was so badly built as to have swinging doors. Useless.
He hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether or not he should enter. It looked rather empty inside.
"Do come in" said a voice. It floated towards him, velvety smooth and masculine deep.
The voice came from the top of the grand staircase directly in front of the entryway.
Father looked around, too distracted by the splendour of this place to seek out the owner of the voice.
Chandeliers dripping with crystals adorned the high ceilings, while tapestries of dark fairytales covered the deep gray stone walls of the enormous room around him. He was beginning to rethink his first assumption about the doors. He could fix those easily if he was to receive ownership of this splendid residence.
As if cued by his thoughts, the doors closed behind him with a slam. He jumped slightly, started, but brushed the feeling off.
"Hello?" he asked the voice.
Footsteps sounded from the top steps of the staircase, and a man came into view. Even so far away it was obvious that he towered above Father. His pale blond hair was pulled into a respectable ponytail at the nape of his neck, which was thick with sinewy muscle. His eyelids drooped in an aristocratic manner, and his eyes, icy blue, bore into his guest.
"You are a fool, you know, to come all this way to collect an amount of money that you are uncertain of, on the night of your precious daughter's engagement ball, when she is soon to marry into more wealth than you can dream of". The man's voice sounded colder than before, enough to keep Father's defence at bay.
"No matter about your stupidity though, old man. I counted on it".