Chapter Fifteen: Les du Maurier

Previously: Knives 

 

"All I'm saying is, she's changed," Godwin insisted. He was in the kitchen with Edith, sampling some fruit compote while Edith warily watched him, hands folded across her chest. As always, Mireille du Maurier watched them on a holographic screen upstairs.

 

The redhead pushed back. "She's still herself. She ordered entirely new wardrobes for herself, her cousin, and Marguerite—that's a very Mireille thing to do, if you ask me."

 

"And did you notice the colors of their pretty new clothes?" he asked, wiping his hands on a cloth and heading out of the kitchen. Edith followed. "Do those look like Roseward colors to you?"

 

Edith shrugged. "What's she supposed to do? Wear rose for the rest of her life? It's a spring color, Godwin, and winter is coming... when autumn ends, of course."

Unbeknownst to them, Mireille had redone some research on her family and had chosen du Maurier colors: deep aubergine and antique gold with pearl accents. Instead of simply fast-forwarding through the war, she was taking time to return to her character's roots.

 

She didn't change the house, though, only her family's clothes. And instead of giving away her old ones, she exchanged them for the new ones.

 

No more freebies around here. It was her personal new motto, and everybody noticed. The dinner parties immediately ceased, along with the unbridled generosity. And whenever she spied on characters, Mireille found them gossiping about her alleged money problems.

 

In the meantime, Thibault and Marguerite had reached an understanding of sorts. They weren't madly in love, but they did converse, always in Valeronnese. They went for walks in the garden together, or ran errands together in town. People seemed surprised that Mireille not only had a cousin, but that she'd engaged him to a Valeronnese girl instead of one of them.

 

She made a big show of taking in Rowena Thornmere and promising her a good match, people murmured. Why not her own cousin?

 

All these perfectly good Avenish noble girls, and she chooses a bastard from the edge of the world, others grumbled.

 

Typical Valeronnese, always thinking they're so superior. Did you notice how she stopped inviting us to her home?

 

I heard her family estate was destroyed. Even the business is all gone.

 

If la Vicomtesse is experiencing financial issues, why doesn't she marry an Avenish lord? Doesn't she think they're good enough for her? 

 

And for once, Mireille didn't care what people thought. She just found it amusing.

 

When people gossiped about her wealth, she bought pearls for herself and Marguerite. She continued to import Calderran wine and provided lavish meals for her family only. Soon, the people of Ravensbridge began to understand: it wasn't that Mireille didn't have any more money. It's just that she wasn't wasting it on them.

 

Godwin continued to steal from her and she continued to ignore it. He was smart enough not to take too much. The money he stole each time was enough to buy a new horse at most. Over time, it would amount to more, of course, but not enough to hurt Mireille.

 

Nothing could hurt Mireille now.

 

It was so much easier to play The Barony of Westervale when she wasn't chasing an ill-fated romance. She finally could get back to what really mattered, like reinventing herself and planning her grand entrance into a new society.

 

And thankfully, Thibault was completely onboard.

 

"My mother and siblings can remain at the estate in Auremer, with your permission, of course," he was saying, as they went for their morning walk in the Roseward garden.

 

"Your mother and sister should stay with you at the Duke's palace in Laurenne," Mireille insisted. "You'll need help once Marguerite starts having children, and your sister will need a proper introduction into society." She cast him a look. "She's well-bred, I hope."

 

Thibault nodded. "I personally taught her to read and write. She's fluent in Avenish and Valeronnese. She also speaks some Calderran and Orsynian."

 

"Orsynian?" Mireille's eyes briefly widened.

 

"Yes, I thought that might interest you. Perhaps you might introduce her to Princess Adela?"

 

Mireille shuddered. "Absolutely. They'll just torture the poor girl up there."

 

It was his turn to give her a look. "It's always important to maintain relationships with royalty, cousine. You and Adela don't have to like each other. You just have to reach an understanding with each other."

 

She smirked. "Like you and Marguerite?"

 

"Yes," he said honestly. "I don't love her. I probably never will. But I will be a good husband and father nonetheless. Such is life for people like us."

 

And that's why the game was programmed this way, Mireille realized. It's meant to be a challenge of wits. She smiled ruefully. You can't really buy love or loyalty in here, because the simulation will simply create new obstacles.

 

To her surprise, she didn't mind. Without Sir Adrian to distract her with his towering height and refined good looks, she found herself oddly eager for a challenge. She credited it to Thibault's appearance. His calm confidence helped her feel grounded. His insightful commentary gave her clarity.

 

"We should maintain a joint residence in the capital," he suggested. "The Duke of Orvienne already has an estate in Saint-Véronne, which by some miracle, the Crown has yet to seize."

 

"The King is probably waiting for him to die," Mireille snorted. She frowned suddenly, remembering. "Do you recall a Comtesse de Marivelle? I stayed with her in the capital before I came here."

 

Thibault smiled. "She wrote to Isabeau, frantic about your disappearance."

 

"I keep meaning to write her, tell her all is well. I suppose now is as good a time as any."

 

"We will need to rebuild all our bridges upon our return," he said, nodding sagely. "Your father could have been a force in the royal court, but he stubbornly remained in Auremer. We must not make the same mistake."

 

"No, we shall not," she agreed. Westervale was an eye-opener, and I won't do what I did before, not in Valeronne. Not this time.

 

***

Thibault's family arrived a few days later. His mother was Madame Sabine du Maurier, a widow in her mid-forties. His was sister was Élodie, aged eighteen, and his brother was Lucien, aged sixteen. They smelled of the road, years of struggle etched across their faces.

This time, Mireille was prepared. She was unfazed by how much they looked like her, or how their accents sounded like hers. Élodie was practically a copy of her, just younger and with slightly different eyes. Both Élodie and her mother Sabine even wore their hair like Mireille.

 

For the first time since she met him, Thibault appeared emotional. "Mama," he whispered, embracing his mother tightly. They were in the courtyard, and the sun was just beginni
ng to fade from the western sky.

 

"Ma tante," Mireille politely greeted Sabine. "Bienvenue dans ma maison." She turned to Godwin, whom Mireille had intentionally neglected to warn, was visibly caught off guard by the new guests. Meanwhile, Edith seemed delightfully surprised.

 

"This is Godwin Whitlock, my seneschal, and Edith, my lady's maid."

 

"Madame," Godwin greeted, blinking repeatedly. "This is such a pleasant surprise." 

 

"It is indeed," Sabine said, in a deep, matronly voice. She looked up at Roseward Manor. "Years ago, when you were born, I never imagined you'd end up here."

 

"Nor I," Mireille replied. She turned to her staff. "Godwin, please prepare rooms for our guests. And Edith, have the servants draw baths. Supper will be served soon, and Marguerite will want to meet all of you."

 

"Yes, my lady," Edith said, gesturing for the newcomers to follow her.

 

The du Mauriers were bathed and dressed in the new clothes Mireille had been collecting for days. When they descended upon the dining room, Mireille's breath caught in her chest.

 

She felt just as she did when the Thornmeres first arrived at Roseward, except this time, the awe was different. These were her kin, generated for her evolving right before her eyes.

 

Élodie's eyes darted around the room. "Your home is exquisite, cousine."

 

"It is nothing compared to our home in Auremer," Mireille assured her.

 

"'Our home', is it?" Sabine asked, eyebrow raised.

 

Thibault had warned her about his mother and Mireille had prepared. "I am sorry my father never acknowledged you properly, ma tante. Thibault and I have agreed not to repeat his mistakes. That's why I let you live there after my stepmother died. I want us to be a true family, as we always should have been."

 

Marguerite looking regal in du Maurier colors. She immediately greeted Sabine with a bow.

 

"Mama," she said humbly, head bowed.

 

Someday, we'll all be bowing to her and Thibault, Mireille remembered. I really hope I haven't made another mistake.

 

Sabine eyed the new girl. "So you're going to be new daughter-in-law," Sabine said in Valeronnese, leaving Mireille to read the subtitles. 

 

"Oui, Maman."

 

 Sabine's eyes flickered to her son. "An autumn wedding was an interesting choice."

 

Thibault kept his voice casual. "There's no point in dragging these things out. Besides, the Baron of Westervale will be in attendance, along with all the nobles in Ravensbridge."

 

"I am sparing no expense," Mireille said gleefully, taking her seat. "We've planned a spectacle for the ages."

 

After all, if we're gonna leave, we might as well leave with a bang.

 

Next: Roseward