She staggered a step back. Bastien levelled a murderous glare at his brother.
“Open your eyes,” Jacques persisted. “None of us are happy.”
“You’re one to complain,” Bastien scoffed. He tried to keep his tone even—tried to see through the blinding rage that was drumming at his temples, but it was growing difficult to do so by the second. “Youaren’t happy?You, the only one who gets to have everything,you’resuffering?”
Jacques’s lips pulled back to show his teeth. He winced when the fresh cut split again right as it was knitting back together. “Do you really think the things you do have no consequences for me?”
“What could I have possibly—”
“Celine,” Jacques seethed, cutting him short. “And that little meeting Anaïs had arranged for you.”
Bastien’s next glare was shot straight at her. “I don’t think you have any rights to complain about our fights anymore, do you, Anaïs? This one is your doing.”
He hated the fact that she had broken this easily under Jacques’s interrogations. Especially since she knew what Bastienand Celine stood to lose if one of her little gossips started crawling around. This time it had been about a random meeting, next time it could be about the competition. Bastien couldn’t risk that over niceties for his sister.
She stared at him with tears trembling in her eyes, then slowly stalked back inside her room.
Bastien waited until Anaïs’s door slammed shut before dropping the conversation altogether. The whole house, along with its wrong smell, was closing in on him. He needed to get out,now. But he only made it halfway through the foyer, when Jacques’s fingers latched onto his arm.
The grip wasn’t one of standstill or forgiveness. It was threatening.
“If you everthinkof meeting Celine again—”
“You’ll do what?” Bastien taunted. Falling back into the habit of quarrelling with Jacques was almost mechanical at this point. It didn’t matter if his bones felt heavier than usual, or that his mind was reeling with thousands of thoughts—the score needed settling.
In one vicious tug, he brought Jacques closer. “It’s sad how you think those threats will dissuade me, brother. Maybe in the beginning I did flirt a little with Celine just to get on your nerves. It was nothing serious, of course, but now I’m starting to think what a shame it would be to toss away all that hard work.”
“Leave her out of this.”
“I would, if it wasn’t so much fun seeing her blush at all the things I tell her. You know what happens to the girls who fall for me,” Bastien said with terrible apathy, and waited. There was a brief moment when he saw something flash across his brother’s eyes. Hurt or jealousy or a mix of both. But it turned Jacques’s expression cold, unflinching. And feeling a little fratricidal, Bastien decided to be cruel and push further. “I hope, for your sake, that you know how to deal with broken dolls, Jacques. Wewouldn’t want our sweet Celine to stay broken forever, would we?”
If Jacques wanted war, war he would get. And Bastien knew just where to strike. And when.
I expect you at the annual soirée tonight. And dress properly.He flicked a piece of lint off the cuff of his sleeve. “I’d hang around, but I have important business to carry out.”
• • •
When Celine returned home, her mother was already waiting in the living room, reading glasses on, another bridal magazine between her fingers. The windows had been left open, despite the approaching evening, and the curtains fluttered in the soft breeze, carrying the scent of jasmine bushes planted underneath the balcony.
Celine discarded her heels and trench coat by the entrance and sauntered inside in her stockings. She delighted in the feeling of the plush carpet under her soles; the subtle thud that her footfalls made as the sound got swallowed up before it could announce her presence.
Perhaps it was the reason why her mother continued leafing through her magazine, not bothering to lift her eyes from the page and greet her daughter.
Celine held back a sigh. Just once she wished she could return home and have Madame LeBeau bombard her with questions.
Did you have fun today, my darling?
Have you eaten yet?
I can warm something up while you describe all the excitement for me.
And then she would do it. She would curl next to her mother, conveying everything to the minutest detail, stopping only to take another bite of her food.
She had almost done so after their first challenge at Maison Baudelaire.
He liked my design, maman,she had wanted to say.I made it through to the second round.I don’t need to marry Jacques to keep our family name shiny. I can do that myself. I can make a name for myself.
But the reply would have never met Celine’s expectations. Her mother wouldn’t have been happy, nor proud. She would have been furious, and the next day Monsieur Baudelaire would have received a letter saying that Celine LeBeau was withdrawing from the competition.
