Page 17 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

―Excerpt of a letter from Her Grace, Prunella Adolphus, The Duchess of Bedwin to Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen.

Nic,

What the devil am I supposed to say to the duchess? She wishes to know of any traditions or recipes I remember fondly from Christmases past. Perhaps I should ask her to toss me a crust of stale bread or allow me to sleep on the kitchen floor? The best Christmas I ever had was when that bastard was too drunk to beat me. You know I loathe this time of year.

Why, in God’s name, did I agree to go? I wish you would all let me alone.

―Excerpt of a letter from Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen to his brother, Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau – translated from French.

Louis,

The best revenge you could have upon those who wronged you so badly is to find happiness. I know I will never truly understand what you suffered, but you are free of that now. I wish I could take the memories away from you as easily as I took you from that evil place, but you have so many possibilities now. You have friends, and the duchess truly wishes for you to be a part of the family. She has welcomed me as she might a son, despite everything. I know she wishes to do the same for you, and I think she understands you are not as whole as you appear.

I know how difficult you find this time of year, but perhaps with people who care for you at hand, you will not find it so hard to bear. Please, Louis. I know you will not try on your own account, so do it for me, and Agatha, and for your Miss Evie, who will be so disappointed if you do not appear as promised. You see, I am not above a little blackmail.

I am afraid I will never let you alone, brother mine. Not so long as there is breath in me.

―Excerpt of a letter from Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau to his brother Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen—translated from French.

Chapter 10

Dare to Risk it All

Monsieur Le Comte,

I am in a horrible mood, so I am writing to you to vent my spleen, for only you know how cross and dreadful I can be. It is such a wearisome business to appear in a good humour all the time, especially when one is thoroughly vexed. If I were a man, I could swear and stamp about. How liberating that must be. Would you do a little swearing and stamping on my behalf, please? I shall enjoy it by proxy.

And what causes my temper fit, I hear you ask. Well, I went for a dress fitting today—and yes; I know that alone is usually enough to give me a fit of the dismals but truly, today was worse than usual. Madame Blanchet is such a wonder at dressing my sister and Mama, but they are relatively tall, and slender and I am not. I am short and dumpy, and Madame resents dressing me; I am certain. She is always cross and impatient because I am so difficult to design for and do not show her designs at their best. She has made the most breath-taking gowns for Flo and Mama and the one I have for the Christmas ball makes me look like a great pink meringue, and I hate it. Even Mama wasn’t best pleased and said as much, which naturally made Madame more furious than ever. Not that she was anything but polite to Mama, to whom she promised she would try to think of something different for me, but I doubt she’ll make anything better, for she dislikes me so.

I know what you will say, but I cannot tell Mama how awful she is and how much I hate going there. She will be furious and leave the shop and there will be a scene and I cannot bear it. Also, Madame does great work with Eliza’s school, and I won’t have everyone all unsettled and cross just for me. I shall just have to put up with it. It’s not like anyone will look at me, anyway.

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight) to Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen.

Miss Knight,

I hope it pleases you to know I have done a great deal of swearing, in both English and French, and have kicked several items of furniture. The desire to confront the idiotic creature who has made you so unhappy is hard to resist. If it would not cause a deal of unwelcome gossip and speculation, I would not hesitate. Do not, I beg you, listen to the wretched woman. For one, you are not short and dumpy. You are petite and voluptuous. Not all men want their women to be skin and bone, you know.

I demand to see this appalling gown. I will be at Beverwyck from the night of the 7th, for the Christmas period and I understand you arrive the same day. Somehow, we must contrive a private meeting. I am certain between us we can think of some way to improve or destroy the monstrous thing before the ball.

Chère amie, allow no one else to make you feel anything less than lovely. You are perfectly splendid, just as you are. Don’t forget it.

―Excerpt of a letter from Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen to Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight).

Monsieur Le Comte,

Heavens. A secret rendezvous with the handsomest man in Europe. I may swoon. A good thing for you, I have no romantic sensibilities.

I will indeed be at Beverwyck. My parents and Felix and Emmeline will stay for a week before heading down to Holbrook. They will spend Christmas with Florence and Henry, along with Sterling and Grace and the new baby. I must admit I was torn whether to go too, but Beverwyck will be so merry, and I will visit in the new year and have little Betty all to myself.

Truly, though, I am touched by your anger on my behalf, but we must be sensible. I am not a great beauty. I admit I am vain enough to be relieved I am not so plain as I once was, but that is as far it goes. Perhaps “passably pretty” would not be an outrageous compliment, but I am too short and too round to be considered anything more. Pray, do not flatter me. Spanish coin from you of all men is too dreadful to contemplate. I trust you and do not wish to hear things I know to be untrue. I should feel foolish indeed to receive such comments.

I really cannot conceive how you think you can improve the dratted gown. Do you have hidden talents as a seamstress? I am beset with curiosity. Or are you simply planning to set light to it? I won’t object.

I am on pins to discover what you have in mind.

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight) to Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen.

Evie, you little twit. I would never lie to you. Surely you know that.