Chapter one
Something brittle
Within the bricked walls of the Lachapelle home — the one lined with vines, the inviting one strangers pointed at, telling each other this was the house they desired — three girls and their Mama walked around aimlessly.
New dresses had just arrived, and if there was one thing these women loved, it was a new piece of clothing. It didn't have to be grand. Especially Carlotta was satisfied with merely a broche. The fourteen–year old girl had never learned much about the value of certain objects anyway. If someone were to tell her that her journal was worth a thousand pounds, she'd go outside, trying to sell it for 1200.
Fleur was more than appreciative for the luxuries her family could afford. Her fingers lingered on the embroidered body of the lightest colour of purple she'd ever laid her eyes on. She needed this to go well — at least, better than last year.
This wasn't guaranteed, but there was one less factor working against her. Sloane married last season. No one would be looking at Sloane any more, because she was at home with her husband.
Cristian Lancaster had won the battle of Sloane's heart. He fit right into the family, essentially since the head of the house had missed the presence of a fellow man. His son had abandoned his role of next–in–line, and instead turned to the casino. Officially, he still lived in parental house, but he was rarely ever seen. Cristian was kind, and thoughtful, and most of all, he cared about Sloane more than anything.
His biggest wish was for a big family, because he had never had that. (He grew up an only child and hated it.) When Sloane told him she wanted to wait, it contradicted everything he wanted, and yet he agreed.
"This is a remarkable fabric, Zahara." He said as he came into the hallway, where a footman was holding the box full of new clothes. Cristian's father had played a big part in the seamster's world. He was one of the few who'd known how to make smooth fabrics. Cristian had now taken over that business.
"It's yours, after all," Zahara replied. "How could it be anything less than impeccable?"
"You flatter me." Cristian said.
"Are you not excited, Sister?" Carlotta asked Fleur, changing the subject.
Fleur looked up. "Y— Yeah, sure," She faked a smile. "Lola, don't you have somewhere to be? Any trees to scour?"
Lola narrowed her eyes, tilting her head. "Don't you have delusions to act upon?" Fleur mirrored her expression.
"Girls, please," Zahara said. "Fleur, I need you to be on your best behaviour today. We've been granted a second chance, and we need to be perfect."
Fleur felt a hidden dagger piercing her heart. Since she didn't have any suitors last season, and the comparison to Sloane was that much bigger because of this. Zahara had a ridiculous resolution of marrying Fleur off before Lola was of marriageable age. In Fleur's eyes, Zahara blamed her for not being attractive.
"Elizabeth!" Her Mama called out. Fleur's servant came running into the room. "Get my daughter in her dress, please. She'll need her corset today more than ever."
She actually didn't. Fleur was unhealthily skinny. It was the one thing she could control about her appearance, so she did. And she did to the point where it became unhealthy. Her Mama and the other girls made comments about it all the time.
Elizabeth knew this, but nodded regardless. "Yes, my lady." Fleur followed her into her room, dropping the beautiful purple dress back into the box. She turned back towards Carlotta, mouthing Help me to her.
Lola outed her tongue, pointing it at Fleur. Fleur closed her bedroom door behind her. Her walls were a light green colour, the furniture painted white. "Which one would you prefer?" Elizabeth asked. She held up two similarly white corsets.
Fleur pointed at one of them. "That one, please. You heard Mama. Gotta have a good corset today."
"How are you today, Miss?" Elizabeth asked.
It's tradition in the Lachapelle family that on the children's 12th birthday, they get to pick their own servants. Henry and Sloane both picked children of elder servants or servants from other houses. Fleur, on the other hand, asked for a carriage and went down to the poor neighbourhood.
Plenty of people had no job in that neighbourhood. All she had to do is walk up to a few people, asking if they were interested in a job. A job that came with a mansion, and decent clothes, a good amount of money, three meals a day. Not many of the neighbourhood's residents would say no to that.
She hired three people — Elizabeth, who'd impressed her with her hair salon in an alleyway. Elizabeth started out doing just Fleur's hair, but throughout the years she'd started to dress her, among other things.
There was also Ruth, an elderly woman. In the neighbourhood, everyone was sitting alongside another person, except for Ruth. She sat all on her own. When Fleur asked her what happened, she'd told her that her son passed away from the flu a month ago. Fleur needed nothing more than that to hire her. She essentially was a cleaner.
Lastly, there was Louis. Despite being a man (Which wasn't generally done for servants.) he immediately caught Fleur's eyes. He was so sweet with the horses of Fleur's carriage. She appointed him to her personal coachman. If he wasn't riding, he was attending the horses. Mama wasn't happy Fleur had come home with a new coachman instead of a maid, but she was at peace with it after long consideration. All three had become trusted friends. That's what Fleur called them — she didn't like the word servant.
"Miss? Are you quite alright?" Elizabeth asked again, snapping Fleur out of her thoughts.
She jerked her head back towards her friend and smiled. "Very well, thank you," She said. Her eyes travelled down to the corset in Elizabeth's hands. "Let's get this dress on before Mama starts to worry we're late."
And so, the stress levels in the house of Lachapelle rose. Zahara did indeed worry they would be late, despite Fleur being dressed perfectly on time. Fleur was rarely ever late, especially on occasions such as these.
The carriage ride to the Queen's palace was quiet. Zahara, and Franklin accompanied Fleur in her carriage. The one behind them carried Sloane, Carlotta and Cristian. Henri hadn't bothered to show his face, as usual. Fleur's mind was swirling with last year's performance, where Sloane had been the center of attention.
She feared without Sloane attracting all eyes, people might see her for what she truly was.
Unworthy.
The Queen had made it abundantly clear last year that she certainly thought so. But Fleur was determined to make a better impression this year. Or . . . try to.
After a silent ride in (Or to?) Hell, the carriage came to a halt. She stepped out. Elizabeth instantly came to run by her side to soothe her dress from any crinkles. For a palace so lovely, the memories of it were awfully cruel. Left and right swarmed with servants running around to make every single entrance perfect and families ready to offer their daughters to the city.
When Fleur looked to her right, Sloane, Cristian and Carlotta walked towards them. Sloane moved her arm through hers. She smiled and squeaked excitedly.
"This is your big day, Sister, you must be excited." Sloane said.
"Only the second . . ." Fleur muttered in response.
Cristian came to stand next to his wife, folding his hands behind his back. "Now, Sloane, don't scare the girl. It is scary enough as it is." He winked.
"Come, children," Franklin said, stepping inside. "Hurry along now, come on."
Fleur sighed deeply, but soon got pulled along by Sloane, and from the other side, Carlotta. The young girl was equally as excited as Sloane. Possibly for different reasons. Inside the family got separated. Zahara and Fleur were led to the back while the rest found a spot in the hall.
Every young lady was given a gigantic feather to attach to the top of their head. Just like last year, and just like many years to come. Fleur noticed her Mama was caring like last time, but her actions held less meaning now. Her hands felt harder as they perfected Fleur's appearance, as well as it could be perfected.
"Now, remember, the most important thing is to smile," Zahara reminded her daughter. "And not to trip, needless to say."
Fleur nodded absentmindedly. Her gaze was directed to the Cowpers. Cressida glared her up and down, a confident smirk on her face. Freya, on the other hand, looked kind, and scared. She smiled. On the other side of the room, Lady Bridgerton was preparing her eldest daughter, Daphne. Fleur could only hope she would not have to walk after her.
The Featheringtons were soon called to the hall. They were first — the guinea pigs of the group. They were to absorb most of the Queen's judgements. The three girls barely fit through the door at the same time. Hearing crowds gasp behind the doors, it was safe to say one of the girls had fainted.
Fleur had never personally spoken to any of the Featherington girls. She knew Lady Featherington was one of the few reasons Madame Delacroix still purchased Cristian's more extravagant fabrics. That was all. Sure, they'd been in the same room, and sure, Fleur's parents had spoken to them, never Fleur.
A few Ladies later, it was Daphne Bridgerton's turn to walk into the fiery gates of Hell. Only for her it wasn't Hell. It was Heaven. Even behind closed doors, Fleur heard the familiar gasping of positive surprise. She remembered it from Sloane's entrance. The Queen's choice was to be easy this year.
"Miss Fleur Lachapelle, presented by her mother, the Right Honourable Lady Lachapelle." The guard behind the door called then. His words sounded emptier now that Sloane's name wasn't called. The doors were pulled open for a second time. Fleur's feet felt heavy under her. They were like blocks of cement she'd have to move forward somehow.
In an awful attempt of a smile, Fleur could only muster something that could be described as a concentrated frown. By the time she'd made it to the other side of the room, she was sweating from all places. She bowed down in front of her Queen, staying as still as she could.
Only to get a single dismissive wave from the woman so powerful to make entire rooms change their minds to align with hers.
So Fleur hurried back. This time Zahara had seen the gesture. How could she not? The entire ton had seen the gesture. Fleur's worth for the season had been made plain simple again. Fleur wouldn't wait for her Mama to catch up with her. She ripped the headpiece off and ran out. It fell on the floor slowly. It was now equal to Fleur's expectations for the season.
First chapter!! Yay!! Yes, I know there's no introduction between Eloise and Fleur yet, but that will happen next chapter. Just know . . . Eloise has definitely seen Fleur.