Memoir of a Trapped Housewife

Chapter Ten {The Unexpected}

Chapter Ten

The Unexpected

Mrs. Céline arrived on the Thursday before the weekend gala, adding a creative spin to the already hectic household. In the days prior, Mrs. Cecilia had been bustling around the home, shouting orders, pointing out discrepancies hither and thither, and sufficiently frazzling the staff until bags signaling lack of sleep emerged under many eyes. Even us nannies were roped into helping and a tearful, easily shaken maid took our place in the nursery. Evidently, Mrs. Cecilia's fire breathing had taken its toll on the poor waif and she could no longer help in the gala arrangements properly.

Upon Mrs. Céline's arrival, sighs of joy and murmurs of 'thank the Lord' were heard and the young woman was heartily welcomed home. Though, I never actually saw Christie's youngest aunt until Friday evening when Grace and I took a secret break in the left wing balcony.

Grace was smoking a pack of Lucky Strikes and I absently watched her clouds of smoke ascend to the tittering stars embedded in the sky above. The sound of clapping heels coming near made us both start with alarm. For a few dizzying seconds I was sure Mrs. Cecilia had chanced upon our hiding place.

Then I saw her.

A woman with coiffed, curly hair the color of burnt hickory wood approached from French doors that let out onto the balcony. She was tiny and dainty, with a face that was unmistakably Blackstone. There were the high cheekbones, roseate lips, and finely sculpted features all culminating to create such a lovely face that it made me question if Mrs. Céline was human. To say she was even more beautiful than Mrs. Cecilia would hardly be a lie.

"Grace," she laughed, "I've been looking for you everywhere."

Grace's face alighted with pure joy and the two embraced. As an onlooker it wasn't difficult to see they were quite close. I was reminded of Sable and I.

"I've got so much to tell you," Mrs. Céline said when they broke away. "You'll never believe what happened in Paris."

She said Paris like Pear-ee.

Grace took my arm, saying, "This is my fellow nanny, Bernadette."

"Oh what a lovely name," Mrs. Céline smiled, sticking out her hand. "I'm Céline."

"Hello madam," I answered.

She laughed. "No, just Céline please."

I quickly learned that with her we were all equals. Especially when she snuck us into one of the private sitting rooms only designated for 'the most refined guests' (these were Mrs. Cecilia's exact words) and together she and Grace raided the liquor cabinets. They found scotch whiskey and proceeded to rid the bottle of its contents. I refrained from drinking, the sight of mama drowning away all her sorrows in cups of liquor haunted me when I tried.

As soon as a couple of shots were downed, laughter boomed throughout the room and the most ridiculous stories were shared. Grace freed herself of the decorum she perpetually seemed to maintain, letting her hair fall from its high bun down to her waist and laughing with abandon. I marveled at the new side of her, glad that I had a chance to see it. On whiskey, Grace was hilarious.

Though, the most insane sight was seeing a carefree Blackstone. The family was known for its poise, self-possession, and elegance. Seeing Céline in throes of delighted, wild laughter, her hair mussed and falling about her face, was like seeing a penguin in the Artic.

She told fond stories of her brother, Mr. Calvin Blackstone, and his exploits around the city of lights. He pretended to be an English duke so he and she could get the best seats in an opera, and on the same night, disguised himself as a waiter in a famed restaurant so he could serve a laxative laced drink to a man who had embarrassed and insulted Céline because she was 'new money'.