Page 42 of Only You
Genevieve sighed deeply before setting down her needlework. ‘Instead of focusing on your rural custom, perhaps you should study with Madame Roulet if you ever want your knowledge of our culture to be more advanced than your needlework.’
Sabine swallowed the indignation she felt. How dare this woman speak to her so callously. Her wealth depended on Sabine’s father and to act as if it were opposite was absurd. She couldn’t say that, of course, but she could draw the line.
‘Whether you like it or not, your grandchild will be half Ivorian.’
‘No,’ Genevieve said, without skipping a beat. It took Sabine aback.
‘No?’
‘No,’ Genevieve repeated. ‘Whether you like it or not, your child will be French.Thatis where your value lies and to pretend otherwise would be foolish.’
The words felt like a gut-punch. Sabine was left speechless, trying to find the right words to put together, something that would mask the hurt. Nothing she could say would be respectful and she refused to agree. Genevieve looked her over before sighing, focusing on her needlework again.
‘Please do away with the sentimentality, my dear,’ she said. ‘We’re all getting what we want. You will have your status, and we will have access to your lands. There’s no need to pretend much more than that. Simply do your duty and leave the rest to the civilised.’
Sabine rushed out the room, her body shaking from the effort it took to not lash out. She rubbed her throat, trying to relieve the fury practically choking her. She was no fool. She knew the opinions, had seen the looks and whispers. But to have it said to her face how thoroughly inconsequential she and her country were viewed was different. She left everything behind to be a stepping stone, her value rooted in a dead mother.
Slamming her bedroom door closed, she sat down on the edge of her bed. She forced herself to stay still, despite everything inside of her begging to destroy everything around her. She tried to take deep breaths as she gripped her bedspread, her giant engagement ring winking in the sunlight, as if it were mocking her.
What was she doing here?
She straightened up when there was a knock on her door. She opened it and saw Lamont.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.
‘Can I come in?’
She pursed her lips but stepped aside. ‘The general will be displeased to find you up here. Whatever you’ve come to say, you must be quick.’
‘I just wanted to apologise for my mother’s words. That was horrible of her,’ he said.
The apology took Sabine off guard, and she stared at him suspiciously.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Although, I highly doubt this will be our last time at odds. Quite frankly, she’s incredibly rude.’
‘I know. It’s maddening,’ he huffed out. He took her hand and sat down on her bed, urging her to do the same. ‘When I found out what she said, I couldn’t believe it. I told her, “Mother, just let her be!” Of course, you need time to adjust. Lord knows you grew up in a jungle,’ Lamont huffed out.
Sabine swallowed the lump in her throat. She should have expected it. She had been since he told her about his family business. Yet, the fact thatthatwas his defence of her was appalling.
‘You both come from two different worlds,’ he continued. ‘Neither of you can control that. It’s a process. You’ll settle soon and she’ll adjust. We’ll all get along. Just give it time.’ He took her in his arms, hugging her tightly like a child. She was stiff in his arms, unable to speak. Her fury at Genevieve quickly faded into the background replaced by a hallow feeling in her chest, as Lamont’s words sunk in.
She, who had been insulted and belittled unprovoked, was a problem. And he was supposed to be her solution, her key to civilisation at last.
‘You should go,’ she said. ‘Someone could come looking for you and we don’t want to start rumours so close to the wedding.’
‘Of course.’ He stroked her face before kissing her cheek. ‘Don’t despair. It’ll all work in time.’
She nodded and he finally left her alone. She listened to his footsteps disappearing down the hall before she covered her mouth with a pillow and screamed. She hated this stuffy country. She hated her crass fiancé. She hated all the rules, being proper and friendly but never close to anyone. She hated how trapped she felt, how it was all her father’s fault.
Or mine, she thought between screams.
After all, her father wasn’t here to bear her decisions; only she was forced to do that. A bitter laugh built up in her throat. All that fear and anger towards a man who was across the ocean. She laid on her bed until she was sure the Laurents were gone. Only then did she dare to go downstairs. She was starving, not having eaten all afternoon. She was on her way to the kitchen when Madame Roulet came across her.
‘Oh, Sabine, dear!’ Sabine resisted the urge to turn away as the woman gathered her in her arms. ‘It’s good to see you on your feet. Genevieve said that you came down with a sudden sickness.’
Sabine forced a smile, not wanting to risk a real dinner for an evening in bed with broth. ‘Luckily, it was merely a scare. I feel fine.’
‘Wonderful. Would you like to have an early dinner in the garden? The general will not be back tonight, and I have been craving a good game of croquet.’
