So I edited the last chapter to make Adele appear less weak; I hadn't realized how weak she seemed. And then I edited it for a number of other things as well and I'm still working on doing more. I know the manner of attack was very repetitive, so I'll work on changing that a bit too, but the repetition stops there in terms of the course of the story, so I'm not too worried. But anyway here is the next chapter, hope you guys like it, and please rip it apart.
Chapter 1: viewtopic.php?t=60875
Chapter 2: viewtopic.php?t=63494
Chapter 3: viewtopic.php?t=64924
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Adèle DuPont cried at her father’s funeral. Surrounded by her uncle and cousins, she sat in the front row of pews observing the ceremony, and tears trickled down her face. This left her eyes suitably red and tear-stained for the many condolences which followed. Men and women of all levels of class and importance – strangers and familiar faces alike – approached her for etiquette’s sake to express their sympathy. She nodded and thanked them with sad charm from beneath her sheer black veil as they made their rounds.
Jacqueline Bouvier, always nearby Adèle at such public appearances, sat behind her in the pews and stood beside her afterward. She knew it was all an act. Everything was an act with Adèle.
The formalities drew on until they finally left the church for the two black Rolls-Royces awaiting them in front of the building. Adèle and Jacqueline got in the first one and the rest of their household followed in the second. The muggy Paris heat had already infiltrated the car, and as she watched the outskirts of the city zoom by, Jacqueline thought how she much preferred carriages. Adèle sat silent beside her; Jacqueline knew better than to broach a conversation.
A quarter of an hour later they had arrived back at the house. Though almost foreign to her young mistress, to whom it now belonged, it was home to Jacqueline. Adèle was not one to stay in a single place for long, and her past endeavors had suited mobility regardless. But all that was over now.
The two girls walked into the house, and Adele headed toward the stairs without sparing Jacqueline a second glance. Jacqueline tried to inconspicuously study her expression. She had removed the veil, though it wasn’t as if she had ever needed it, Jacqueline thought – a bit superfluous with the mask she already wore. Right now Adele’s features were completely stoic, and that was all Jacqueline could read.
Jacqueline slowed, with Adele now in front of her. She cleared her throat and Adele turned around to face her. “Yes?”
Jacqueline was struck suddenly by the strength of Adele’s gaze. For some reason she had been unconsciously expecting Adele to be distant or vague, but she now stared with a directness that startled her. Her tears had long since disappeared; she merely looked cold and aloof. Jacqueline thought suddenly of the goddesses of antiquity, with their beauty and their passionless cruelty. She fought against an irrational desire to take a step backward.
“Is there anything you’d like me to do?” Jacqueline asked calmly.
Adele paused, still looking at her. “Just see to it that my father’s rooms are cleaned and cleared. And tell Marie I’d like that lamb again for dinner,” she said.
“Alright.” Jacqueline remained standing in the hallway as she watched Adele turn and walk up the stairs.
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The day passed, and Jacqueline had a quiet supper in the kitchens with Marie and Lucie, one of the housemaids. The kitchens were peaceful and supper passed tranquilly, only disrupted by the heavy yet unspoken weight of Dupont’s death. Adele had not yet come down, though it was nearing seven o’ clock and dinner was served promptly at six every night.
When the clock struck seven, Jacqueline sighed and began to search for her. Adele’s rooms upstairs were empty, but she finally found her in the downstairs study. She opened the study door to find her sitting motionless, staring straight ahead, in one of the plush leather armchairs. She had changed out of her formal black dress into a soft one of light brown, and her dark hair hung down and framed her immobile features. Jacqueline closed the door behind her and sat down on one of the nearby chairs.
The room was unbearably cold; the windows on the far side of the room were open, their dark curtains blowing wildly as gusts of night air streamed continually into the room. Jacqueline shivered and rubbed her arms. Adele ignored her presence and continued looking ahead. A few minutes of silence passed.
“What are we to do now?” Jacqueline asked to the silent room.
A long moment passed, so long Jacqueline was sure she had been ignored. “We wait,” Adele said nonchalantly, without looking at her.
“Wait?”
Adele afforded Jacqueline a careless glance and then resumed staring ahead. “Yes, Jacqueline, we wait. I’m too good a tool to be wasted. That’s the only reason they kept me around.” She paused almost lazily. “They’ll come. But, you know,” she shot her another look, “a tool isn’t really a tool at all if it can think for itself. So they’ll watch me for a while. And then they’ll come.”
Jacqueline took it all in. “You’re sure of this?”
“Why else am I alive?” It wasn’t a question. Her tone was cool.
Jacqueline let some quiet moments pass before speaking again. “So we wait, and do nothing?”
“I never said we’d do nothing. Only fools do nothing.”
Jacqueline looked to the wall where Adele stared. There weren’t even any windows or paintings adorning it; it merely faced the rest of the house. A loud gust of wind blew into the room, and Adele spoke once it stopped. “Just continue your rounds, Jacqueline. That’s all you need think about.”
She took that as her dismissal. Quietly, she rose, and closed the door behind her.
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Waiting did not happen to be all that different from Jacqueline’s daily life. In fact, it was exactly the same, except for the presence of Adele. Jacqueline would accompany her about town or eat meals with her occasionally. Her presence also meant a more immediate relay of information from their informants. Apart from that, not much had changed.
Her main and only real duty was the rounds she continued: checking up on their informants – usually servants – of certain men and families. As she performed such a visit only once every few days, she spent the majority of her time in the house. She often helped with the running of the house and the daily household duties, though she did not have to. The rest of her time she spent reading and furthering her education, under Adele’s encouragement.
It was a curious position she occupied in the house. She was not a lady of the family, nor was she even a lady in her own right, yet neither could she be classified amongst the help. A man named Gilles Blanc and his wife were the official housekeepers, and they did in effect run things, yet all knew Jacqueline held the greater authority. But it was a power she did not misuse, and so the house ran peacefully.
She watched Adele with curiosity as they ‘waited’. Adele had never seemed a particularly patient person, nor had she ever stayed in the Paris townhouse for longer than a fortnight. But to her slight surprise, Adele never seemed restless or acted anything but calm, though Jacqueline knew very little of her doings. When at home, Adele either occupied her rooms or the study, where she would stay for hours behind closed doors. And she knew Adele made social visits and attended many dinners and balls, to keep up appearances and stay informed, but she could not fathom they comprised all of her outings.
DuPont’s secretary, a man named Anton Gravois, arrived for dinner one night about two weeks after his death. He had been in the south, on DuPont’s orders, and thus had been away for the death and the funeral. Gravois was a quiet, clever man, about the same height as Adele, which was taller for a woman and rather short for a man. He had a large forehead and a receding hairline, despite being only around twenty-five.
The butler, Hugues, welcomed him into the sitting room, where he met Adele and Jacqueline. Adele wore a yellow silk dress, her hair up, and she had powdered her face. Jacqueline wore a less fashionable dress of dark red, her blond hair also up.
Adele greeted him with polite boredom. “How good to see you, M.Gravois.” She extended her hand lazily.
He took her hand and kissed it lightly, and replied in his quiet voice. “Mademoiselle Adele, my condolences for your loss,” he said gravely.
“Merci,” she said, and gestured to Jacqueline. “You know Jacqueline Bouvier, of course?”
Gravois nodded and took her hand as well. “Nice to see you, Mademoiselle.”
Jacqueline nodded to him, and Adele spoke. “Do sit down, Monsieur,” she said theatrically.
They spent a quarter of an hour making polite conversation in the sitting room before the kitchenmaid came in and announced dinner was ready. They made their way to the dining room and its grand mahogany table. Adele sat at the head, and the other two sat down at the first seat on either side of her.
The kitchenmaid brought out the first course, and they ate for a moment in silence. Jacqueline had become anxious by Adele’s lazy and subtly sarcastic manner in the sitting room. She glanced over at her. Adele was bringing her spoon up to her mouth. She stopped and smiled when she saw Jacqueline looking at her, and then turned to Gravois and spoke without preamble.
“My father left you 5,000 francs. And a number of personal possessions. Have you talked to our solicitor?”
Gravois’ eyes widened slightly. “N-no, I have not yet.”
“Well, I fancy you’ll want to. He will sort that out,” she said. “His will was read quite some time ago, you know,” she added reproachfully.
“I’m sorry Mademoiselle, I was in the south,” he said, looking somewhat confused, as this was common knowledge.
“I know.” Adele looked away.
Gravois stared at her, slightly taken aback by her curt manner. He spoke in his grave voice. “Your father was very generous.”
“Generosity is a bore. Everyone is generous.”
Jacqueline closed her eyes, took a breath, and opened them again. Once she did, she glanced back to Adele, who was looking disinterestedly at something over Jacqueline’s shoulder. She turned to see the kitchenmaid bringing out the next course.
The girl deposited a sliver tray with a beautifully decorated roasted chicken on the table. A rich aroma filled the air, and all were quiet as they watched the kichenmaid serve a dish of the chicken to each of them and then walk softly out of the room.
Wordlessly, they all began eating, the only sounds the clanging of forks and knives against china plates.
“This chicken is magnificent. You have a most excellent cook, Mademoiselle.” Gravois’ voice broke the quiet.
“You may take her, if you like,” Adele said offhandedly.
Jacqueline had never wished to kick someone’s foot under the table more than at this moment. Unfortunately, there was a good five feet separating them. Adele seemed to read her mind, as she turned and looked at her, amusement in her eyes and the hint of a dry smile on her lips. She spoke again quickly, saving Gravois from having to stutter over a reply.
“Tell me, Monsieur, how you like to spend your free time. Do you manage to get out often?” she asked charmingly.
He seemed to welcome the change of topic. “Every so often, yes, I do enjoy a night out in Paris.”
“You didn’t happen to go to Madame Renard’s ball in January, did you? It was the most wonderful time, and the loveliest people were there.” Her eyes implored his own for an affirmative answer, her words passionate.
“I’m afraid not, Mademoiselle.”
“How about the Vincents? I went to a dinner of theirs just last week. The kindest people. Oh, they throw the most fabulous dinners just about every week; tell me you’ve been to one?
Jacqueline fought against wincing. Her face remained calm, and she looked to Adele sternly. Adele smiled wickedly in return.
Gravois looked down. “I cannot say I have, unfortunately.”
“What a pity. Oh! I just remembered a most interesting rumor, concerning yourself. That you were engaged to a Mademoiselle Cecile Valois? Is that so?
The Valois were one of the richest families in France. Mademoiselle Cecile Valois was among the most beautiful and charming young ladies of Paris. Jacqueline swallowed heavily, and set down her glass of wine.
Gravois’ eyes appeared strained. “That is only a rumor, I’m afraid.”
Jacqueline threw Adele a meaningful look. Adele’s smile only grew wider, but she looked away.
Gravois was looking down at the table, paler than before.
Jacqueline collected her breath. “How was your journey north, Monsieur Gravois? Were the roads terrible at this time of year?” she asked calmly, attempting to resurrect the semblance of any type of polite conversation.
Gravois jumped upon her question gratefully, and the two entered into a conversation concerning the state of French roads which lasted for quite some time. Jacqueline concluded this was her purpose, and the reason Adele insisted she dine with them tonight. Besides, Adele was resentful enough of having to go through all the formalities for Gravois’ sake. She would not be bothered to have to carry an entire conversation as well.
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Jacqueline walked back to the house one afternoon after going to Leburn’s. After getting herself a glass of water from the kitchens, she ventured into the study and, finding it empty, proceeded to walk upstairs to Adele’s rooms. She knocked once on the door to no answer. She tried the handle and opened the door. Almost all the doors in the house had locks, and Adele would have used hers had she wanted privacy.
Upon first entering Adele’s sitting room, she thought it empty, until she looked over to the far corner by the window. Adele stood there, with one leg extended outward behind her and both arms in the air, in the arabesque ballet position. She had the lithe body of a dancer already, and she looked graceful in her pose, her unsmiling face the only thing marring the picture of beauty. Her legs and arms trembled, and sweat had formed on her forehead. Her hair was up, but dark wisps plastered against her pale face.
Jacqueline stared. When Adele was eleven and Jacqueline was nine, Adele had asked her father for ballet lessons. He obliged, and she took them for three years until DuPont realized ballet dancing was not a pastime of the elite. Adele had not put up a fight, as she had seen the wisdom in it and, to Jacqueline’s knowledge, she had not danced since.
Adele hadn’t moved or turned her head to Jacqueline’s entry. Her arms and legs continued to shake as she maintained the position.
“I’ve just come from Leburn’s,” said Jacqueline, as she stood in the center of the room.
Adele said nothing, though her face tightened as she held her position. Her left arm shook disproportionately.
“Lucas gave me some good information, if you’d like to hear now.”
Adele ignored her. Jacqueline stared at her for a minute before turning around to leave the room. If she had learned anything in dealing with Adele, it was not to press matters. Once at the door, she glanced back over her shoulder. She had not moved from her elegant pose, and her body continued to shake.
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Some weeks later Adele sat in her private sitting room, reading a book. A knock sounded from her door.
“Come in,” she called without looking up.
The housemaid Lucie came in. She had mousy brown hair and a round, kind face, which was now twisted in an expression of nervousness. Adele looked up from her book and stared at her expectantly.
“M-mademoiselle Adele?” she asked timidly.
“Yes?”
Adele considered ordering this girl, and all the servants for that matter, to relay any future messages through Jacqueline. But before she could articulate these thoughts, the girl spoke.
“Mademoiselle, there is a colonel here to see you, a Colonel Despard. Do you wish to see him, or shall I turn him away?”
“I’ll see him. Go do something useful.” Adele rose.
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Thanks everyone so much! I seriously don't know what I'd do without you guys. I edited it to change most of your guys' suggestions, except for what was not easily fixable. If I didn't change something, that's probably just because I couldn't figure out how to do it yet. And, I'm going to add in more descriptions and a scene with kitchen gossip from the servants, so those will take some time too. Thank you all again so much.
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