Days of Winter (40 page)

Her daughter, a governess, and now marrying into the fine family of Dupré. …Dupré … she held the name in her mind, not for its familiarity, because it was known as one of the finest in all Paris. …But there was something more about it, something personally familiar to her … and then suddenly she remembered actually meeting a Dupré, a Jean-Paul Dupré, yes, she was sure of it now. …She had met him at the reception Alexis had taken her to, and she remembered thinking him so young to be in the diplomatic service. Well, we have something in common now, monsieur, she thought You are the brother of my soon-to-be, brand new son-in-law. …

Oh, God, how strangely lives were interwoven. …Tomorrow would be a very bad day for her … very bad. …Shaking her head in disbelief, she got out of bed and took down the small portrait off the wall, the one painted by Camail, and held it tightly against her, as though trying to bring to life the little girl that was its subject, and thinking … Alexis, dear Alexis, not even you can comfort me now. This time, as she was before, Magda Charascu is all alone. …

October 1, 1936

T
HE DAY OF DAYS
arrived, and both Jeanette and Madame were thankful, though their reasons were in no way the same.

As Jeanette stood in her room, wearing the white satin wedding gown covered with seed pearls and lace, Madame drank in the sight of her. Jeanette was radiant. “I wanted to see you before you became my daughter. And that is how I feel. No one can replace my child, but I feel as though God had sent you to us to help soften her loss. You’ve brought me untold joy by giving yourself to my beloved son. Now you will be one of us, ours. From now on, I want you to call me Mother, and you will be my daughter.”

Jeanette embraced the woman. “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to say, or even think the word ‘Mother.’ I promise, I promise you … to make Etienne happy. …”

“I know you will, my dear, and I promise to love you as my own,” and she took the heavy strand of pearls from the purple velvet jewel box and slipped them over Jeanette’s head. “These were given to me by my mother-in-law on my wedding day. I pass them on to you with the same love. Wear them well. …”

And Jeanette, watching her leave, tears in her eyes, swore to herself that she would. …

In another part of the house, Etienne, fortified with more brandy than he’d ever had before, struggled with the pearl studs. He wasn’t intoxicated, he was nervous, too nervous even to let himself be helped by his dresser. He had to do something with his hands. Keep busy, his mind kept telling him. He struggled with the white bowtie, which wouldn’t hang straight

“Here, let me help you with that,” said Jean-Paul, who had just come in. Within moments the tie lay perfectly even. “I know how you feel, Etienne. I’ve been through it myself. All you have to do is relax.”

“Relax?” Etienne said. “How can I? I’m scared to death.”

“May I offer you my best wishes,” Jean-Paul said, “for a long and happy life? I congratulate you. You’re a very fortunate man to have the love of such a very charming young woman. And she is no less fortunate.”

Etienne looked at his brother. Jean-Paul really seemed to mean it, and for the first time he felt a bond between his brother and himself. “Thank you, Jean-Paul, from you that means a great deal—”

“Well, I should think the time has come for you and me to be brothers, to put aside all those old rather childish matters … after all, we are grown men now. Let’s act as though we were. I give you my hand on it.” A masterful piece of diplomacy, he thought, considering Etienne’s willingness to believe it.

The two brothers shook hands and embraced.

“All right, then,” Jean-Paul said, “it’s time for the best man to lead his little brother to the altar. …”

The music had begun.

Jeanette walked, almost regally, down the marble staircase, her long Valenciennes lace train guided from behind by Renée. The candlelight satin gown and juliet cap that demurely framed her face made her look majestic. She carried a bouquet of lilies of the valley.

At the entrance to the salon she was met by her uncle. Renée adjusted the veil and then retreated. Jeanette took her uncle’s arm. Lucien was waiting at the altar, dressed in short black velvet pants, a white silk blouse-shirt and a short velvet jacket. He was very nervous as he held the white satin pillow on which rested the two gold marriage bands.

Preceding Jeanette were Nicole and Desirée, dressed in long white organza dresses, gathered at the waist and encircled with pink velvet ribbons tied at the back with bows. The girls carried golden baskets filled with rose petals, which they dropped on the white-carpeted aisle.

Finally, to the strains from
Lohengrin,
Jeanette and her uncle walked slowly down the aisle between the two rows of flower-filled standards toward the altar. A hush descended. All eyes were on Jeanette, and there were admiring whispers on her beauty, her bearing, her grace. Tomorrow would be time enough for less flattering speculation … such as that she had married Etienne for his money and position, and why someone of her apparent breeding had become a governess in the first place, with such a distinguished uncle from London. …But for this moment such thoughts were put aside as Jeanette reached the altar and her uncle kissed her lightly on the cheek, handed her over to her husband-to-be and took his place beside Madame.

Jeanette knelt before the altar, side by side with Etienne. And in the solemn and sacred ceremony they were united, as each said the vows. …

When Etienne lifted the short veil that covered her eyes, he looked at her as though trying to memorize her, wanting to remember her face at this moment all his life. Then, gently, he kissed her, and she returned the kiss.

Well, thought Jean-Paul, it had been done. …

Madame did not cry during the ceremony, although she wept tears of joy inside. Jeanette also held back tears, afraid that if she relaxed control she would become hysterical when she saw Jean-Paul standing to one side. Tears were openly shed by Madeleine, who sat in the very last row, outfitted for the first time in her life in a fashionable dress, a gift from Jeanette as well.

The receiving line was long but the Duprés graciously accepted the congratulations of all. Monsieur Dryfus whispered to Jeanette his pleasure at playing a role—however inadvertently—in bringing her together with Etienne.

After the ceremonial protocol, Jean-Paul came up to his brother, who was sitting beside Jeanette. “And does a brother have the right to kiss the bride?”

Etienne laughed. “Yes … but only once, mind you. From now on they all belong to me.”

Gravely, Jean-Paul kissed Jeanette … then said, “And now may I have the honor of dancing with Madame Etienne Dupré?” He whirled Jeanette away without waiting for an answer.

Jeanette found herself in Jean-Paul’s arms, the last place she wanted to be, this evening. …In only a few hours she would be taken to her marriage bed by another man, and thinking of the man she couldn’t marry. …As they danced he held her tight, his arm around her thin waist, feeling the firm breasts under the wedding gown. …He even imagined he could feel the new life growing within her womb. …

“You’re holding me too close—”

“Don’t worry … with all these people no one will notice a little brotherly affection.”

“You’re upsetting me, Jean-Paul … how do you expect me to survive tonight—”

He smiled for the benefit of anyone who might be watching. “You’ve survived all right up to now. …In just a short while, the worst will be over. Take heart, my love. While you’re making Etienne the happiest of men, I’ll be the one who’s suffering the most … that you’re not in my arms.”

“I don’t want to dance any more, Jean-Paul Take me back.”

He did, saying, “And now, dear brother, I give you back your wife,” kissing Jeanette’s hand and placing it in Etienne’s.

And now the moment had arrived for the newlyweds to leave. As they went up the stairs the unmarried girls waited below for Jeanette to throw her bouquet. She aimed it at Madeleine, then turned around and disappeared with her … husband. …

Madame had been moved out of her quarters three days before and into a suite down the hall, feeling it only right, after all, that the bride of a Dupré should have that particular suite. …It had been given to her when she had married Henri. Etienne opened the door for her, and she walked into the room with the famous four-poster bed. On either side the rouge-colored damask draperies, tied back with silken cords, cascaded to the floor. A fire glowed in the low marble fireplace, and the room was filled with the fragrance of white roses. Chilled champagne was waiting in a silver wine bucket. Earlier, the bedspread had been removed, revealing the white satin comforter and the white satin sheets trimmed with lace. Inside matching satin pillow slips lay enormous down pillows. The lights had been dimmed.

Jeanette gazed at all the luxury … Madame Etienne Dupré … all hers … all for her … and she was weeping inside. Oh God, why couldn’t she have fallen in love with Etienne? How beautiful it would have been, the way it should be … instead of this agony. …

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the champagne cork pop and the champagne bubble over.

“I’m not very good at this, I’m afraid,” Etienne said, pouring the champagne into the silver toasting goblets, engraved with the date, and the names Etienne and Jeanette. Madame had taken care of everything.

“To you, my dearest … may our lives together be as joyous as tonight is for me. …”

They raised the goblets and clinked them.

“That’s my wish, too, Etienne,” she answered, her words almost the echo of a stranger to them both.

They sipped the wine in front of the fire, without speaking. When they finished, Etienne went wordlessly into the dressing room that had been his father’s.

Jeanette undressed in Madame’s dressing room, quickly putting on her nightgown. She got into bed, hoping Etienne would come back soon and not delay what had to be accomplished. He seemed to take forever.

Finally he came to the bed and looked at his bride. He took off the long dressing robe and got into bed beside her. The lights had been turned off, and only the glow of the fire illuminated her. He reached out, drew her to him, and gently kissed her lips. Wanting to consummate their marriage as quickly as possible, she took his face in her hands and kissed him with less restraint. Overcome, delighted, by her response, he unbuttoned his pajama top underneath the comforter, slipped out of his bottoms, then gently picked up her gown. She helped him take it off … and soon all restraints were submerged as the two of them became one. …

Much to Jeanette’s surprise, Etienne was not only a sensitive but an ardent lover. Jean-Paul had aroused her to a kind of terrifying excitement Etienne’s gentle passion created different stirrings in her that she tried to resist, wishing he hadn’t awakened them. …

After his passion had been satisfied, she lay in Etienne’s arms, feeling guilty about her thoughts of Jean-Paul. She was terribly confused. She hadn’t expected to succumb to the gentle lover in her husband.

She was a very confused young lady, loving Jean-Paul as she did, and still deeply enjoying Etienne as she just had. Somehow she had thought his … his problem would disqualify him from such skillful lovemaking, which was of course ridiculous, but still …

For a moment she’d forgotten what had brought her to this marriage bed, had almost wanted to … but now reality came back to her sharply. Jean-Paul was owed her gratitude and love … it was he who had made sure her child, their child, would be born in wedlock … right here in this bed, this night … so far as the world would ever know. …

Etienne awoke early and lay in the enormous bed watching his bride sleep. If possible, she was more beautiful asleep than awake. He listened to her even breathing. What other man had ever been so blessed … to have a wife such as this. …He still couldn’t quite believe it, that she actually was his … and then thought of how easily … eagerly even … she had accepted his love on their wedding night, and was able to believe it more. …

Her eyes still closed, Jeanette stretched languidly, arousing herself from sleep. When she opened them, and saw Etienne, she smiled.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked. Moving closer, he took her in his arms.

“Oh, yes, I did—” And despite her upset and confusion over her role, after a while she indeed had slept well, and this surprised her.

Tightening his arms around her, he kissed her urgently, and as she responded, her body melding into his, they consummated their marriage for the second time.

Afterward, kissing her gently, stroking her, he said, “You’ve brought the world to me, Jeanette. …Nothing exists for me outside of this room except you.”

And at that moment she could have answered in honesty that it was the same for her—though she held back, realizing that her profound affection for this man almost made her forget she was not in love with him … much as she might have wished otherwise.

Her thoughts, and their idyllic moment, was shattered by the chimes of the Sevres clock on the mantel. “Etienne, it’s eleven o’clock. There’s so much to be done before we leave.”

Then he showered, shaved and slipped into his trousers. As he pulled on his socks, he looked at his shoes. The four-inch platform that had been his nemesis since birth no longer seemed important to him. …He reached in the closet for his red brocade dressing robe trimmed with a red satin shawl collar. He tied the satin sash around his middle and went back to the bedroom. Jeanette was waiting, refreshed from her bath, wearing a light blue satin gown and matching sheer peignoir that tied at the neck with a blue satin ribbon. Her hair had been carefully combed and hung loosely below her shoulders.

“Let me look at you,” he said, taking her hands and holding her at a distance. She seemed so tiny, so petite. Drawing her close to him, he whispered, “I love you … and what’s more I can hardly contain myself when I see you.”

Smiling, she said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to use some restraint, since I believe breakfast has just arrived. To paraphrase, man lives not by love alone …” and was amazed at her ease with him.