xviii.

SHE STOOD IN FRONT OF THE LOOKING GLASS IN HER chambers, her chosen wedding dress enveloping her body in all of its glory, as she gazed into her own blue eyes like she hadn't before.

Laur did not see anything in her gaze, and that fact alone startled her. She knew she was feeling a variety of emotions, she knew that everything she was feeling at present could cause her to break if she was left entirely alone with it. The mere knowledge that there were people in the estate, and she could be interrupted or barged in on any second by someone or the other in the household, was enough to have her holding onto her sanity and calm repose-though she could see none of that struggle in her blue eyes.

Also, her sister Adelaide too was in the estate, getting ready in her own guest chamber with the aid of a maid because as per Arsenault family tradition, the bride was to get ready alone with her ladies' maid, so that the members of the family could all have a surprise look at her together when she walked down the aisle—at least that was what Julie Fontaine had just conveyed to her mistress to Laur's complete shock two hours ago.

So yes, the bottom line was that Adelaide too was at the estate, and Laurentine had never—and will never—breakdown when she knew her younger sister was in the vicinity. She was supposed to be Adelaide's elder—her support, and she had decided a long time ago that not a single tear would be shed if Adelaide was near.

At present, her own gaze to her felt.. numb. She could see nothing at all in her bright blue orbs as though her body was guarding everything from her own self as well.

She no longer felt the edging emotions of fear and anxiety powerfully, though they still simmered somewhere inside her, but not enough to truly make a difference any longer inside her.

Over all—as she tried to desperately land on a conclusive statement for her present feelings-she felt.. nothing at all and everything all at once.

"My lady," Julie Fontaine—the ginger haired maid trailed as she finally managed to arrange the veil, bringing it over to the half up do at the crown on Laurentine's head, tucking the spiked comb ended part over the do.

"You look so beautiful!" The words burst on the girl's tongue, her eyes wide at Laur's reflection in the mirror.

"Oh, truly! I do not understand how someone can look this beautiful! Oh, you look like a dream, my lady."

The excess of the veil was now flowing past the opera performer's form, casting a gorgeous effect draping past her body and her half up and half down done hair. And Laur found herself wondering how Manon would have arranged the veil—if her previous maid and a friend in her own right, would approve of how the bride looked now. 

Laurentine had supposed she would have her hair done entirely up, but she did not feel as though she wanted it like that anymore. Julie had loosely curled her half down blonde hair into perfect curls that had been set with mousse, and though now her hair felt slightly stiff to touch, it rested in place beautifully curled at her back as though she was but a doll.

A brilliantly shining diamond necklace glowed, resting at Laur's collarbones. It had been discovered in one of the boxes of Édouard Arsenault's gifts to Laur, and she had gasped at the cacophony of small studded diamonds all over the chain and the giant pigeon's egg sized teardrop shaped diamond pendant at the heart of the necklace. The matching earrings of the jewelry set were also glittering in her ears at present, teardrop shaped diamond studs that almost distracted Laur with their beauty.

There had also been a matching bracelet with the set, which was now gracing the bride's right wrist, a smaller replica of the necklace but with five teardrop shaped diamonds around the chain.

Her maid Julie had been correct, all of the initial jewelry selections for the wedding gown had completely been put aside in lieu of the jewelry set gifted by Édouard, though Laur was sure he didn't care if she wore it with her gown or not.

Still, it was so luxurious and expensive—so utterly beautiful to look at, that she had not been able to resist indulging in it.

Suddenly, familiar words in her own voice started playing inside her head like a half forgotten composition of a classical composer.

"I love to find pleasure in things money can buy me—the luxury, and perhaps that is because I was deprived of it all growing up, or for some other reason, I don't know. I merely know that I enjoy investing in myself so much, and though I do make sure to always give away some of what I can, at the end of the day I'm always picking myself up with anything beautiful I can buy."

Had not Édouard once asked her about her taste for luxury on their first—and only—dinner date? She had responded to him with those words, and she still remembered how slightly on edge she had felt when expressing herself, thinking that perhaps her views for herself would drive a man like him away.

"And I know I deserve it."

Mon Dieu, how haughty had she sounded then? Would she still sound haughty and full of herself if she spoke those words again? Because they were still how she felt. They would always remain how she felt about herself.

Yes, there were people starving and dying in the world, but if Laur could help them all with every piece of wealth she possessed, she would do it blindly. And then when the day of helping others ended, when all was said and done and the darkest hour of the night fell, she would stop by the jewelry house of Boucheron in Paris and buy herself a little something no matter how much it cost her remaining funds. And she would prioritize that act of purchasing luxury over feeding herself, and if a man was to judge her at all over something, perhaps he should choose that.

But looking at herself at present, wearing the expensive diamond set that she knew—from the packaging—was called the rêver de gloire set from the very renowned jewelry house of Mellerio dits Meller in Marseille, Laurentine wondered if Édouard had done it on purpose. If he had given her the luxurious gift—alongside the other expensive gifts which included gowns and more sets of jewelry—because she only liked luxury. Perhaps he had meant all the gifts as a snide remark-a mockery of all that she had said to him that night.

Laur swallowed thickly, forcefully pushing her adverse thoughts away. It wouldn't do to let her own mind turn its back to her, not now when she would be at the mercy of her rational thinking, for her heart seemed to be offering her nothing but melancholy at present and she had no strength to sift through that darkness.

Her stomach shifted slightly, feeling hollow and empty.

Laurentine hadn't eaten the entirety of the elaborate traditional wedding breakfast she had been sent by the hands of Jean-Paul. She had only picked through it and chosen a single beignet drenched in powdered sugar to eat, and had asked for a singular cup of milk tea alongside.

She should have taken advantage of the fact that the residents of the house—the family—were all to stay away once the bride began to slowly get ready, in order to not spoil their first look of her. Laur should not have taken advantage of the fact and not eat the hefty breakfast her stomach had already been repelling the idea of, but she hadn't been able to help herself.

She only wanted a toasted baguette and tea, and she—instead of asking the servants to have a whole baguette prepared for her—had compromised however she had felt fit.

So, oui, her stomach was partly empty, but at least the combination of her nerves and excess food that she would have eaten, was not making her nauseous.

"My lady," Julie spoke then, finally exhaling a sigh of satisfaction as the ginger haired girl stopped fiddling and adjusting the veil.

"Are you sure you do not want to have anything else to eat off the tray?" The maid's brows pinched themselves together. "You have only had a small beignet, surely you mustn't—"

"Just please make sure to send the breakfast down to the kitchens when the family leaves for the church, Julie," Laurentine glanced at the full breakfast tray on the bed, all the food abandoned.

"And no, I am alright," Laur exhaled, running her hands down her already smooth silk bodice.

The corset she wore underneath was tight and secure—a little more so than when she usually wore her corsets, at her own request, but she was grateful for it and its hardness, using the support to compose and ground herself.

A cold afternoon wind seeped in through the half open window and Julie clamped her mouth shut of any protests and immediately rushed over to pull the window down. A fire crackled in the hearth in Laur's room, providing ample warmth in a way that the half open window—opened by Laur herself when she had wished to look out on the street—only balanced the temperature in the chambers.

"I shall go down and see if the family is heading out for the church, my lady, if you do not have need of me at present," The maid spoke then.

Laur nodded, granting the girl permission as the latter quickly spun on her feet and trotted out of the room, closing the chamber door behind her softly and leaving the bride alone with her thoughts.

A short while later, Laur had affirmed from the muffled sounds she could hear from downstairs that the party was all headed for the church, though Julie herself had not managed to come up and relay the fact to her mistress on account of being engaged in a task handed to her by the butler or the head footman, perhaps.

For on Laurentine's part there was clamor heard, and excited exclamations mixed in with worried ones. There were calls about someone or the other forgetting something—a napkin, a spritz of perfume, a solitary flower to tuck into a pocket or a purse for good measure, a last look in the mirror, and even an earring. The latter feat belonged to Adelaide Bonfamille, and the girl could audibly be heard acknowledging the mishap with surprise and nonchalance when it was pointed out, by Francine or The Lady Arsenault perhaps.

"Oh, am I really missing one?" Adelaide cried, laughing. "Well then, I think there's no use wearing the other, is there? Do you mind very much if I just take it off and leave it by this vase? Thank you!"

Laur giggled, placing her hand on her lips at the playfulness of her sister, but then her amusement dissipated as she worried what The Lady Arsenault, Francine, or even Édouard would think of her younger sister's jesting. At present, she could hear them all gathered in the foyer to leave, and she found herself wishing that there were no odd looks being given to Adelaide, not that her brave younger sister would be affected by odd looks at all.

"Wait," Adelaide spoke up again downstairs in the foyer, "Can I just speak to my sister before we leave? I shan't be a moment."

"Oh no, dear!" The Lady Arsenault exclaimed. "No looking at the the bride before she walks down the aisle! It is bad luck, and besides, I'm sure the patience will be well worth—"

"I'll just speak through the door then," Adelaide responded, slight annoyance in her voice. "Surely that cannot be such a grave misstep, can it?"

Laurentine could not hear the lady of the house's response, for Adelaide was already thundering up the staircase and running towards Laur's chambers. The latter heard her sister ascend with a smile on her face and anxiety in her heart pushed to a back seat.

"Laur!" Adelaide called, panting slightly as she reached the door and lowered her voice. "We're all headed off to the church."

"Yes, darling, I figured as much," Laur managed a smile, finding herself itching to open the door as her hand almost touched the knob.

"Are you sure about leaving your earrings behind?" The bride asked cheekily, "I'm sure you already look so beautiful in your blue dress."

"Oh, sister," Adelaide huffed through the door. "Those earrings were heavy, I think I dropped one somewhere outside my room. I didn't like them though, and my dress is perfectly nice without the added jewelry. I showed it to you last night. I wanted to show you this morning with the earrings in just so I could ask you if I should leave them off, but apparently its sacrilege to consult one's own sister on her wedding morning."

"Sweetheart," Laur giggled, "It's tradition."

"A stupid one, if you ask me," Adelaide murmured. "How come Francine Arsenault got to speak to you this morning? She was simply exalting over how you were glowing with the pre-bridal glow! Should not I have been the one to say such things? I'm your sister! Ugh, I should not have slept in, I'm sorry, I just did not realize they will all just ban visits to you so suddenly! I had to re-confirm the fact that I was still the one walking you down the aisle—so sure was I that they had changed even that! How awful and utterly ridiculous all this is! Had you chosen a Parisian, this wouldn't have happened. I'm confident Parisian men—though slightly unorthodox—have better family traditions than these ones! Oh, and not to mention all that breakfast you were sent to fatten you up like cattle, and the whole getting married on exactly 2pm thing! How silly!"

"Darling," Laur laughed, her chest feeling so light. "I love you so much."

"And I love you sister," Adelaide let out, "Oh and I do really like Édouard so much too! He is very kind to me. I bid you to forget that comment I made about Parisian men, I am to be stuck with Édouard as a brother-in-law so the time has come for me to not be so prejudiced, I suppose. Anyhow, your groom is presently looking absolutely dashing by your standards sister, and I await the moment you walk down that aisle with me and make everyone—especially my dear brother-in-law—loose their jaws."

Laurentine's eyes misted as she blinked her emotion away, the heavy gravity in her chest returning but softly this time, for with Adelaide in her periphery, Laur felt like she could face anything for her sister. And all this was for her sister, was it not?

"Alright, sister, I shall bid you adieu! Remember, I shall be in the front row in my blue dress with Berlioz, both of us looking awfully full of ourselves and prideful of you! That is, of course, till you arrive. I'll be at the church gate in a moment with Berlioz then to escort you, don't you worry. Your day will be perfect, as long as I am here to balance out all Arsenault-ness of it all, I suppose."

With that, the younger Bonfamille girl hurried off, her footsteps cascading down the hallway before they thundered down the staircase into the foyer, joining the rest of the party to head out.

Laur walked over to her window, not coming to the window fully and slightly hiding as she peeked at the figures of the family rustle their way towards the waiting Arsenault family carriage outside. She saw their backs in the afternoon sunlight, their forms glimmering royally against the suburban backdrop of the Marseille street.

The Lady Arsenault wore a soft mint green gown with cream lace ruffles at the hems, sleeves and neckline, with a matching parasol and a hat. Francine Arsenault's petite form looked elegant in a similar but pink blush colored gown in a younger design, with matching cream lace ruffles like her mother, her curly hair piled atop high on her head.

The sight of Adelaide made Laurentine smile. Her sister's chubby form was clad in the blue dress she had shown Laur last night-a dress the girl had purchased for herself in Paris for the wedding. It was a simple, but beautiful and elegant dress, hugging the girl's thick curves nicely, and accentuating her ivory skin. No ruffles, no bejewelled buttons, no patterns. There was no other detail to the dress except a square neckline and the tiny pendant the girl wore at her neck to accentuate the look, still, Laur thought Adelaide looked so utterly beautiful and so utterly herself.

She blew a silent kiss to her sister's back, smiling as she looked at Adelaide scrunching up her face in the annoyance of having to adjust her dress in order to get herself into the carriage after The Lady Arsenault and Francine had successfully managed the feat.

Adelaide huffed and struggled slightly, her movements irritated and not entirely elegant. It was then that Édouard Arsenault—waiting by to help get the ladies into the carriage—extended his hand patiently to Adelaide for support, and Laur finally noticed his form, her smile wavering.

He was dressed in a polished black suit, his dark dinner jacket seemed to be catching the sun rays as the material glistened. There was a white rose peaking from the breast pocket of his dinner jacket, and a silver glittering chain also dangled from that pocket, pinned into a U shape—a formal pocket watch. His curly hair was gelled and fixed in haphazard curls atop his forehead, and combined with his piercing hazel eyes and his fair skin, he looked so intensely handsome.

Laurentine blinked, something in her eyes stinging as her gaze fluttered to her shaking hands before she raised her eyes to look at him outside the window again. He was smiling now, and the sight of his wide smile and gleaming white teeth directed towards her sister as he helped her get inside the carriage, startled Laurentine to her core.

She almost stumbled on her feet, her heart trembling inside her chest. How was he like this? He had shouted at her the last time she had seen him, his tone had been so cruel and his furious face still haunted her. He had accused her of trying to kill herself, he had asked her to stay away from him. Then he had pretended like she did not exist, and he had forgone even acknowledging her presence leading up to their wedding. And now he was like this in the presence of her sister and his own family? Did Laur not deserve his kindness and his softness? Did she not deserve his acknowledgement too?

For all of Francine Arsenault's grievances against her brother, he still smiled in front of her did he not? At least he cared for her, was proud of her, was genuine with her, would do anything for her. Was that not so much more than what he had with Laur?

She would never have any of those things with Édouard, even if she so desperately wanted them and believed at one point that she could have them someday. But that had been another time, another him.

He got into the carriage after Adelaide had seated herself inside and he had spoken a few words with Jean-Paul. Laurentine saw the head footman respond in affirmative, close the carriage door behind Édouard, and signal to the driver, and thus the reins of the horses were yanked on, pulling the carriage forwards and away.

──── ౨ৎ ────

Laurentine Bonfamille too found herself seated in the Arsenault family carriage when it had returned back to the estate after the depositing the family to the church.

The time was precisely 1:30pm and she had only a handful of minutes to get to the church, walk down the aisle and say her I do's on time so that the pastor could pronounce her and Édouard Arsenault man and wife at precisely 2pm just like he had been instructed by The Lady Arsenault.

But a few miscalculations had already rendered her late, for the carriage had not returned timely after dropping the family off to the church, with the driver claiming that he had had to switch one of the horses with a different one for the poor thing had twisted its foot on a sharp rock.

Laur felt hurt for the poor horse, and had been sure to inquire if the animal would fare alright.

"Ah, bless you, mademoiselle, my Pierre is a sturdy one. He will be alright in no time!" The driver had responded with much pride and gratitude.

At present though, Laurentine was seated in the carriage whilst both, her maid Julie and the head footman Jean-Paul, labored in anxiety to get the bride's glamorous wedding gown train into the carriage. Their movements were laced with panic and haste, for they were wary of the time, but Laur herself felt none of the panic.

For all of her wishing, most of the wedding day itself—at least the fear filled anticipatory part—was almost over as 2pm approached. Everything afterwards would be nothing she could change, all would be said and done, and for some reason, being faced with something she could no longer change or had control over, was a calming thing. For what was left to do with such things but face them as they were and as they came?

"Oh, I'm so sorry, mademoiselle," Jean-Paul grunted the apology out after he finally managed to tuck the last of the train into the carriage and carefully heaved himself in and sat down on the seat opposite to her. Julie too got inside, sitting down beside the head footman.

"It is all my fault," The footman let out as he closed the door and tapped the ceiling hard for the signal to the driver to move on. The carriage pulled away from the Arsenault estate.

"Had I kept a spare horse waiting, the driver would not have had to make a detour to the stables—"

"Hush, Jean-Paul," Laurentine narrowed her eyes slightly, her voice soft. "It is alright, we will be there on time."

With finality in her voice, she turned her eyes away from him to silently observe the passing Marseille cityscape.

Outside was still an unfamiliar place for her, she still felt as though she had only just arrived in this unfamiliar city and was now getting married in it. The feeling was such a strange one, it was being uprooted, abandoned and deserted all in one. Even though now Laur had Adelaide too—regardless of how temporarily—and she had made good progress with developing her relationship with The Lady Arsenault and Francine Arsenault. So Laur wasn't entirely alone, deserted or abandoned, but why then did she feel like it? Why then did her life not feel her own? Why then was she feeling like she was but a marionette and someone else was holding and yanking on her strings?

"My lady," Julie Fontaine spoke, the maid's nervous excitement tinting her voice. "Are you comfortable? Do you need some water? I managed to fill a bottle and brought it along just in case—"

"I'm alright, Julie, please don't fuss," Laur's voice was strained as she held onto her composure desperately.

She needed more than just a moment. She needed to be left alone for a while so that she could think things through, Mon Dieu, she needed time, but she had none of it anymore.

Laur had done this to herself. She had accepted the closed off and cold hearted Édouard Arsenault's marriage proposal like her life depended on it, and she had wanted the marriage to be set and done the very week. And now, when she was burdened under the weight of her heartache and fear, and the constant presence of well meaning faces who expected so much from her but knew nothing about her situation at all, she had no one to blame but herself.

Her bottom lip trembled suddenly as she thought of Édouard's smile towards her younger sister. Would he ever smile at Laur the same way again? Or was the version of himself that he had been to her on that dinner date lost to her forever more?

Laurentine swallowed thickly, pushing her emotion back. Édouard Arsenault could be as closed off and cold hearted as he preferred, as long as he was kind to her sister and kept up his promise to protect the girl on her endeavors. As long as he did all that, his wife-to-be would not complain, regardless of how mean he became to her. For as long as Adelaide Bonfamille was happy and content, Laur would never complain for her own self.

The church pulled into view then, a quaint but glorious lavender covered cathedral situated on the plush green hillside to the right of road, away from the clamor of houses and buildings. Beyond the church, to its backdrop, was the landscape of a cemetery, with gaunt and time darkened headstones littering the place and adding an intimidating background to the wisteria covered church building.

Laurentine could see some guests still making their way over towards the church gate, strolling in the grass with the women arm in arm with their men or acquaintances, their richly colored day gowns elaborate against the gentlemen's varying colored suits, and similarly decorated parasols shielding some pairs from the wrath of the afternoon sun.

The scene looked like a painting, but seen in the light of the melancholy in Laurentine's own heart, she could not help but think of Chopin's Nocturne in E minor, and her heart further constricted in her chest. Frédéric Chopin had been a brilliant man, and his life and compositions had been foundational in the opera scene in Paris, but someone had once said to Laur—it had been one of the opera house directors, Madame Camille—that, "Darling, if in life a Chopin composition comes to your mind. Just know that it is either cause to be very happy in your happiness or cause to be distraught by the grief in your heart."

Laur wondered if Madame Camille too had accepted the invitation she had been sent for the wedding, if she too was there in the church as a guest. Perhaps Laurentine could tell her that a Chopin composition did come to her mind just moments ago, and perhaps the Madame would interpret it in the way she deemed fit.

"Give me a moment, Mademoiselle," Jean-Paul let out as the carriage came to a stop, and he gripped the upper handle to open the door and jumped out onto the gravel path in front of the church entrance.

"I shall inform The Lady Arsenault and your sister of your arrival, and make sure all guests are seated and all is ready for your entrance."

Laurentine managed a smile as her dismissal, as the head footman nodded mechanically and shut the carriage door after himself. But Laur's attention had already been caught by some of the beautiful decorations the church entrance seemed to be encased in.

There were an abundance of white rose bushes cluttering both sides of the entrance glamorously, and silken petals of the same had been strewn on the gravel path leading from the road and all the way to the church. Laur thought of the first ever flowers that Édouard Arsenault had given her, they too were beautiful cream white roses of the same kind, but they had had stunning butterflies resting upon them when her butler had opened the box for her.

Laurentine bit her lip, forcing thoughts of the past—even if that past was measured by only weeks—away, for everything had become painful for her to dwell upon.

"My lady, just wait till you see the aisle, it is looking absolutely beautiful! The organizing committee The Lady Arsenault hired excelled at this! Oh, such wonderful tastes those ladies have to put everything together in such a short time! Although, The Lady Arsenault did not let them take any liberties themselves on anything without getting it approved through her first. But regardless, I cannot wait to see what they do with the banquet hall at the Arsenault estate for the reception, no doubt Monsieur Pascal has had them start immediately!"

Julie too, it seemed, had caught onto Laur's fascination with the church entrance, and was now endeavoring to try and add to the general excitement for the day that she supposed her mistress felt.

"Don't you worry my lady, I shall rush back with Jean-Paul and get your dress for reception ready, we shall have you in your dress change in moments!"

Laur exhaled softly, her heart starting to speed up again just when she had tried to calm it. The wedding reception back at the Arsenault estate was not something she was looking forward to. The estate would be full to the brim with people, all who had been present in the church as well as those who The Lady Arsenault had not seen fit to invite to the church but wanted their presence at the estate to celebrate. That analogy did not quite make sense to Laur when her mother-in-law had explained it, but the girl hadn't questioned it further. It was something about having a wedding party to mark the season in Marseille, something that people would talk about for months to come, and Laur had not quite understood that too when Francine had explained it. 

In Paris, a wedding would be a quite and beautiful church affair, and afterwards a small intimate wedding party would have retreated to a pre-booked restaurant arrangement to celebrate, or to the new couple's own house. In Paris, there was no competition to make your event mark any season at all, because in Paris people believed in the power of just their own selves in such a way that trends were unknowingly made, and attention was unwillingly cultivated when you just.. were. 

When Laurentine had, three years ago, agreed to perform alongside an unknown composer's piece because the gentleman had been so flattering of her and had shyly told her about his own work, his composition had entirely blown up, and he had all but taken over Paris with the recognition he started getting of his brilliant work. At present, he held the spot of one of the top composers in France and his name, Charles-Louis Hanon, was infamous in the Paris entertainment scene. 

And once, when Genevieve Garnier and Laur had been on a dinner with Monsieur Charles-Louis Hanon to celebrate the release of his new composition, Garnier had gotten tired of her silk scarf around her neck and had taken it off to tie it into a bow at the handle of her handbag. The entirety of Paris had then started wearing scarves tied into bows on their handbags, and Garnier had been over the moon. 

So in Paris, Laurentine was used to people around her just being themselves and marking their events for the seasons just the same. It was all effortless, and she now realized how beautiful that feat truly was, of being effortless and still making your mark. 

Here in Marseille, the Arsenaults were famed enough, yet still they were trying so hard. The wedding party reception would be so uncomfortable for her, so many people she couldn't care less for, so much small talk to make, her best smile to keep plastered on her face at all times. Mon Dieu, how would she do it? That too with her estranged husband by her side?

It was then that Adelaide Bonfamille's form skipped out of the church with Laur's excited ragdoll kitten at the girl's heels, the girl's eyes bright and a happy smile on her face as she gripped her skirts and rushed over to the carriage excitedly, her eyes meeting Laur's in the distance as both of the sisters smiled at each other, tears rushing to both their eyes at the proper sight of one another on this day.  

And just like that, Laurentine Bonfamille was brave enough all over again.