Page 15 of Love in a Mist
If you choose to ignore me, the dignity of the Fortier name will not be enough to spare your family from the wrath you have earned.
That was the entirety of the correspondence.
Jean-François had been sitting here with Marguerite beside him the day before when a letter arrived that Marguerite had identified as “another threat.” This must have been that letter. There was no denying it was threatening. It was also terribly vague, which Jean-François himself had pointed out. Were the rest of these letters the other threats that had been referenced?
Marguerite’s voice issuing instructions, likely to one of the servants, echoed into the parlor. Céleste quickly tucked the letters into the book she was bringing with her on this excursion. She set the book, a small one, in the oversized pocket tucked among her skirts. She lowered herself into the chair and assumed a posture of “weary but willing to endure whatever was required of her.” In the next moment, Marguerite appeared in the doorway.
She looked Céleste over quickly and seemed satisfied with what she saw. “Do not dawdle. We have a schedule to keep.”
Céleste didn’t point out that she had been ready for several minutes now and it was Marguerite who was behind the previously declared departure time. Céleste would be blamed regardless. Again and again, she reminded herself that all she was enduring had given Henri the happiness he’d been denied for far too long. She could continue doing it for his sake. And within the fortnight, she would have a bit of her own freedom back as well. She needed to play her part only a little longer.
In the carriage all the way to the millinery shop, Céleste was regaled with tales of her sister-in-law’s social triumph the night before. The Countess of Lampton had been declared a wonderful addition to Paris Society, and Marguerite was looked upon with approval as a result. The countess’s mannerisms and command of the French language were universally hailed and applauded.
Céleste exercised the greatest of restraint in not mentioning to Marguerite how relatively poorly she had treated Julia during the house party two years earlier.
Most of Paris knew Marguerite was flighty and that Jean-François had grown increasingly unpleasant in recent years. The only people who seemed not to take their true measure were Marguerite and Jean-François themselves.
They alighted at the millinery shop, and Marguerite fluttered inside. Céleste followed close behind. It wouldn’t be too difficult to appear not particularly pleased to be there. She made certain the impression was one that didn’t leave the shop proprietress thinking Céleste was displeased with the shop itself. And when Marguerite was looking, she kept herself to an aura of depleted energy rather than annoyance at having to spend even more time with a woman who treated her with such a complete lack of consideration.
“Is Mademoiselle Fortier obtaining a hat today as well?” the proprietress asked.
Marguerite waved that off. “She has no need of one. She has all the hats she could possibly want.”
It was true, in all honesty. Even if Céleste had wished for a new hat, she didn’t at all want the trouble that would come with requesting one. Jean-François regularly reminded her that he had been forced to provide Henri with his income thanks to her meddling, which was an expenditure he had, until then, been mostly avoiding. He grew decidedly upset anytime he felt Céleste was costing him more money.
Céleste sat in a comfortable chair not far from the front windows. She pulled her book from her hidden pocket, fully intending to give the impression of reading it. Marguerite was already so engrossed in selecting the various adornments for her new hat that she was unlikely to object to Céleste’s chosen distraction.
She opened the book, then carefully switched the letter inside that she had already read for the next one in the stack and unfolded it during those moments when Marguerite or the milliner’s voice was able to provide cover for the sound of the stiff parchment.
I have reached the end of my patience, and I am not the only one. Lest you believe your standing will safeguard you, remind yourself of the friends you have not made in Paris and how little the people of this city would do to help you.
It wasn’t dated. Neither was the one she’d read already. She unfolded the next one.
The tide is changing, monsieur. Right your boat, or you all will sink.
Enigmatic yet undeniably menacing.
I will no longer endure your treatment, monsieur. The power you have wielded is empty, as you will discover to your great cost. End your campaign against me, or I will be forced to undertake one of my own.
Another.
Your meddling has reached unendurable levels, Fortier. Lining your pockets by emptying mine will no longer be endured.
What had Jean-François been doing? These letters were not pleas; they were threats.
She’d reached the first of the letters again and read over it once more.
I am growing impatient. I know you have received my previous demands, yet you have not chosen to heed them. If you choose to ignore me, the dignity of the Fortier name will not be enough to spare your family from the wrath you have earned.
This was, then, the most recent of the threatening notes, and it was an escalation from what she had read in the others.Not enough to spare your family from the wrath you have earned.But what would that wrath look like? Embarrassing the family? Bankrupting them? Or something far worse?
Jean-François must have had some notion who was behind the missives. Surely he wasn’t wronging so many people that it was impossible to guess which of them was writing to him. He wasn’t taking the threats seriously, yet Céleste couldn’t entirely dismiss them.
She could hear the milliner and Marguerite finishing up their transaction. She quickly folded the letters once more and placed them in her book again. She closed it casually and without concern, not wanting to give anything away. With a nonchalance she didn’t feel, she slipped the book back into her pocket just as Marguerite walked toward her.
In tones of proud self-approval, Marguerite said, “My hat will be ready in only two days. The milliner is expediting her efforts. We are a family of some significance, after all. That gives us some priority.”
The Fortier name will not be enough to spare your family.
