“Oh, I really doubt that.” Leaning to the side, he pulled open a drawer on his little side table, and took out an ash tray and a silver box of cigarettes. Lighting one for himself, he offered Bastien the box.
Bastien considered it for a moment as if it were a test. His headache had returned now that the adrenaline of the fire alarm had worn off. A cigarette would sure help. He took one and leaned back in his seat, observing the man sitting opposite him. He knew Claude and his mother had studied together when they were younger, but Bastien had seen him only once before, when his mother had brought him along to Maison Baudelaire, telling him they would meet an old friend. He couldn’t remember what they had talked about that day, only that he had explored every corner of the House and had refused to leave that evening, clinging with all the obstinacy of a peevish child to the dazzling, brocade suits on the towering mannequins when his mother had come to tug him away. Bastien wondered now whether Monsieur Baudelaire recalled that day.
“If you would have let me finish,” he resumed after a silent puff of smoke, “I was saying that she was a friend of mine, and as such, I consider her offspring one too. That,andthe fact that you and Mademoiselle LeBeau are contestants inmycompetition gives me plenty of rights to say whatever I want. Especially when both yours and my reputation are at risk.”
Bastien couldn’t rebut that. Had it not been for the subtle help he had offered them, Celine would have been the one walking out of Maison Baudelaire today. And all because of Bastien.
“Today was a minor setback—”
“Minor?” Monsieur Baudelaire clicked his tongue. “I won’t even begin to count the damage that water has caused to my atelier. But that girl has exceptional talent, Bastien. What she had designed for you today could even top my own creations.And to think she had completed it in one night…It would be a shame to banish her from the competition.”
“Banish?”
The words wracked through Bastien like a lightning bolt. Any portrayal of dandyism he had showcased crumbled to his feet like a discarded stage costume.
He shot up straight. “You can’t do that!”
“Yes, I can.” Monsieur Baudelaire replied in that same cool voice. “Pull something like this again and I’m afraid your place in the competition will be forfeited.”
“Give her another model then.” Bastien couldn’t let him do this to Celine.Hecouldn’t do this to Celine. Hell, he had even gotten himself disowned to keep this secret for her. The money…he could find another way to repay his grandfather. Celine, however, only had this one chance to change her life. “Surely, that should be an option.”
“The choice of the model is entirely up the designer. You two showed up together, I am assuming you will finish this competition together?”
Bastien considered his options, though it seemed he had none, aside from being an obedient mannequin.
“All right,” he said eventually. “I apologise for today. I know your help wasn’t without a cost, so thank you. But Celinedoeshave talent. She deserves to win.”
“Then pull your act together, child.” Monsieur Baudelaire pronounced sternly. “Your mother was the most sensible person I have ever met. There are more similarities between you two than just those grey eyes.”
Bastien looked away. “I very much doubt that.”
“I can’t make you see sense if you’re intent on being stubborn. Nor is it my place to do so.” The couturier sighed. “Let me give you an idea instead.”
“You don’t have—”
“Adalene’s old studio,” he said. His voice was distant and glazed, as though nostalgia had dragged it through a river of memories. “Last time I inquired about it, your family still owned it. Correct?”
Bastien considered him skeptically. “Yes...I still own it.”
“Why don’t you consider reopening it? I have seen the clothes you wear, the air you carry about you. You and Mademoiselle LeBeau might contribute generously to the new trends. You two have already dived head first into this new era in the fashion industry, while my contemporaries are just starting to dip their toes in it.” At Bastien’s silence, he added. “Sleep on it. You don’t have to decide right away. But it would be a shame to let that place get lost under dust motes.”
Chapter 19
Bastien: 1. Celine: 2.
Celine peered down at the city from the round window in the attic, the only one that wasn’t barred with wooden planks. The Eiffel Tower stood out like a misplaced iron limb a giant might have dropped from the sky. It had taken her a few years to make peace with the structure after finding out they hadn’t built it temporarily.
If she was truly frank, she frowned a little less every time her eyes fell on it during nighttime, when it was illuminated in full and the lights looked like tiny faeries dancing around it. And, in an hour, the lights would flare up and Jacques would be waiting outside to drive her around the city.
Celine’s gaze wandered to Milady, who was carefully stretched across the small window seat, cleaning her paws. She had brought the cat along to combat the emptiness of the old house. With Bastien there, talking nonsense and reading to her, it hadn’t seemed so eerie. But she hadn’t seen Bastien in days, nor did she expect to see him soon. Milady was the next available soul she could find to drag along with.
Gently, Celine flicked one of her ears. “What do you think of it, Milady?”
Scarcely lifting her head to at least acknowledge Celine’s existence, the cat stretched out her claws and nicked Celine’s thigh.
“Ouch! What was that for?”
Milady bared her teeth.
