Episode 3-A Strange Arrangement

A Strange Arrangement

Upon Your Return - Episode 3

Chapter One

April 12, 1863

"Oh, dear, did you see the Follets the other day? I'm surprised they have the nerve to show their faces.”

Fara Bellamont nodded to Juliet Masson and attempted a smile. The chandelier lighting cast a harsh light over the dinner party this evening. The tapestry panels about the room depicted a floral motif, huge bouquets against a crimson and ivory background. There were twelve people at the dining table, mostly comprised of her uncle's business partners and their wives and daughters. Also, a few available gentlemen whom her uncle occasionally consorted with.

She then heard an unforgivable giggle from her female companion. Focusing her attention on her plate of Chicken Almondine and roasted potatoes, she tried to ignore the ruckus the lady to her left caused. Juliet must’ve had too much wine; most young women her age refused to gossip at dinner parties, especially if men were present. Usually that kind of talk was reserved for the parlour or at tea.

The woman began to laugh uncontrollably. “Oh, Monsieur! You are too much!”

Good Lord. What is she about? Fara hadn't heard either a flattering or humorous comment all evening. Most of the talk had been about the political uncertainty, it being a time of war. The gentlemen were concerned about invasion. Surprise attacks were known to happen, especially if the emperor's ambitions were getting out of hand.

The gentleman to her right brushed against the sleeve of her dress. She saw his apologetic expression as she jerked away. When his eyes didn’t leave hers, an uneasy feeling began in her stomach. She was not used to men staring at her. It had only been a year since her season celebration and though she had danced with many men that night, none had approached her uncle with an offer. She had almost forgotten the look until now.

A year had passed since she'd returned to the estate to resume her place as lady of the house. The nuns had given her uncle a full report on the progress she'd made during the nine years she spent at Cluny Abbey in Burgundy.

Fara had hated leaving Helene behind, seeing as she was the only companion she'd found at the convent. Helene Perét, a bright-eyed but dark-headed girl with quite a knack for making trouble, had to stay another year to finish her training. The nuns claimed her friend had yet to be tamed.

Fara had learned how to be a lady in the years she was at the convent. She also learned that her fate, to be a wife and a mother, was inevitable. She remembered the nights in the mission as she lay in bed, staring up at the barred window which stood too high for any human being to reach.

She had lain awake and wondered if there was more to it all than what she'd been told, if perhaps somewhere, even away from French boundaries, there was a better reason she was alive. A purpose. She dreamed that the sea held her fate, like her parents; perhaps it was the only place she would ever feel free.

Then came the nights she and Helene would stay up, scheming an escape from the convent, planning their whole lives and filling them with excitement and adventure. Helene would go on about how Fara could become a seamstress and she’d sell the dresses. However, Sister Marguerite would click down the hallway in her black polished heels and peek in the doorway for a head check. The girls would squeeze their eyes shut, covered up in sheets, and as the nun turned away, they would as well. Deep down, they both knew there’d be no escape from the lives planned out for them

There was only marriage. Sometimes she still caught herself dreaming of a way out of her life, or at least a distraction. Perhaps an adventure of some kind that would make this lifeless futile.

Fara startled at the tinkle of metal tapping glass. Her uncle, seated at the head of the table, cleared his throat, and then stood and bowed to his guests. He cleared his throat again. “Let's turn the conversation to a lighter note, shall we? I would like to propose a toast to Monsieur Le Croíx, my fair niece, and their coming nuptials.”

She nearly choked on the bite of chicken. As she reached for her wine in a panic, there was a rumble of agreement from the guests and a few ladies chattered quietly after this announcement.

A sudden shiver came over Fara as she took in the unexpected news. Just like that, he decided her future. She was given no say in the matter. She didn't even have time to devise a plan of escape.

Her uncle had obviously been planning this announcement for some time. But why had he not stated the point of tonight's dinner? He had simply instructed her to plan a meal which would be fit for some well-known ladies and gentlemen, nothing more. She had taken it upon herself to be sure the silver was polished, the dishes sparkling, and the dining room was laid out with fresh flowers adorning the long table. New tapestries had been hung, and the white silk tablecloth could hardly go unnoticed. She had not, however, imagined it would be for this sort of event. If she had known, she could’ve done more, or less, she supposed depending on her feelings concerning the matter.

She turned to the man at her left, her supposed fiancé. He nodded to the gentleman across the table with whom he engaged in conversation. Fara regarded him beneath the cover of her eyelashes. He wasn't tall, yet his looks held a peculiar innocence. He seemed rather young for a suitor, perhaps a couple of years above twenty, but well-endowed financially. Le Croíx was a known name in La Rochelle, and rumors that the family had ties to the crown. Her uncle had chosen him, she supposed, because he was among society's elite in France. Beyond that, she knew nothing else about him; however, her uncle would certainly have something to say if she made an issue of it.

“Fara?”

She jerked to attention at her uncle's tone and focused on his set face. “Oui, oncle?”

“Will you not escort the ladies to the parlour for tea?”

She nodded, “Of course,” and rose to fulfill her duties as lady of the house. She detested the inane chatter and gossip which masqueraded as conversation. She could remind her uncle that dessert hadn’t yet been served, but it was pointless too. She'd lost her appetite.

***

In the parlour, Madame Masson continued her grating laughter as she found humor in one of the servants who had dropped a tray. After the mess was cleared, Fara waved the girl away. She shook her head at Juliet.

Mademoiselle Fournier, who had attended the dinner with her mother, leaned forward. “Mademoiselle Bellamont, you must tell us more about Jean Le Croíx. How did you meet?”

“I am afraid there is very little to tell. I don’t know the man.”

Most of the ladies nodded. Women were often raised with the knowledge that their future husbands would be chosen for them. It was not anything new.

Madame Masson scoffed. “Surely you must have something to tell. Perhaps he took you into a corner, and your uncle discovered it? You cannot be so innocent, chère.”

Fara clenched her jaw before scolding her. “Madame, please. This isn’t at all appropriate. And I have only entertained him in the presence of my uncle.”

Other remarks were made, some more obscene. Her cheeks flamed.

After she'd endured enough of those women, their ravings and cruel gossip, her fiancé appeared in the doorway. Desperate for a distraction, she strode to him, calling over her shoulder, “Pardonnez moi, Mesdames...” She reached him and muttered, “Mon Dieu, you do not know what a bore these ladies have become.” She eyed the sudden pallor of his face and wondered what he was thinking.

“Oui, I can imagine. Mademoiselle, I must speak with you.”

She smiled. “Surely we shouldn’t be so formal now. We are to be married, after all, Jean.”

His lips thinned until they were pale and then he took her elbow. “Accompany me to the veranda, Fara...”

As he led her away, her eyes searched his face for something her uncle must have overlooked...malice, perhaps. When they reached the gallery, she pulled away from his biting grasp. “You're hurting me.”

He stepped back, studying her face. “I am sorry, Mademoiselle. It is only that we are to be wed in two weeks.”

“Oui,” she replied, feeling numb all over by his sudden show of violence and his apparent perplexity of the situation.

“I want you to be honest with me, Fara. I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to tell me the truth.”

“All right.” She looked up into his face and saw panic and desperation. But what was causing it?

“Do you love me, Fara?” he asked softly.