Brave Little Lamb: Excerpt from Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Red is His Favorite Color
"Is that what you're wearing?"
Sandrine stared pensively at Odette's dress. The colours of pomegranate and burgundy sat just below her shoulders in a delicate ruffle, with the rest of the dress hugging her bodice with ease and silkiness, only to puff out from her hips like a petaled rose in spring.
Odette looked down at her dress, then up again at her mother. Sandrine refused to make eye contact.
"What's wrong with it?"
"Pfft." Sandrine flung her head away towards the door. "You look like a sex-craved harlot. Why did you not choose lavender or yellow? Whores wear red."
"Well, I love it." Odette whispered. She didn't dare let her mother hear her.
Breaking the silence in a stormy fashion, the doors from the Baude Hall flung open. Odette's father stumbled in, his beard soaked with wine and sweat dotting his forehead. His hair askew, white from the years of drinking and melancholy.
"Antoine! What are you doing!"
"Madame I am to join you all this evening."
"Not like that! You cowardly slob."
Odette stared at her father, no emotion crossing her face, just observance. Antoine met her eyes and immediately his flashed with shame and humility. He didn't expect her to stand there.
"My beautiful Odie. My goodness, you look stunning. I always loved red on you my dear."
"Don't get close to her! That last thing she needs is your disgusting breath covering her gown. If another man smells liquor on her—"
Antoine continued to meet Odette's eyes. "Oh! Are we hoping to find you a husband tonight?"
Odette looked down to the floor. She was never close with her father, but he loved her, and she him. She didn't hate him for being neglectful, absent, drunk. But she was saddened by it, a gloom she would always carry with her.
She craved a standard father. One who wouldn't be late, who would be solid and steadfast, who practiced discipline and would set an example for his children. One who would speak with her about the world and tell stories of his adventures. One who did not drink his life away and did not give into his follies. Unfortunately, Antoine held none of the more admirable traits. Instead, he was slave to his fears and insecurities, and allowed his tangled past to wash over his life, drinking away his sorrows instead of facing his shortcomings head on.
"Odette."
He walked towards her slowly, practicing a bit of restraint as he did not, indeed, want to put his battered breath onto her, especially if she were to try to meet a man tonight. "Odette listen. I know... I know I am not one to talk but... Please listen. No man, no man is worthy of you. They never will be. You are a delicate flower. You are a rare jewel, the only type to live in this world. No man would ever be worthy of you. But if you must love a man, be sure that he is nothing like me."
Odette winced. A tightness rose in her throat. Her eyebrows began to slope as she bit the inside of her lip, holding back some of the biggest ocean of tears that were crashing against her.
"Nothing like me Odette. He has to be strong, and faithful. And kind and loving. And above all, you must be sure you feel something deep in your heart when you are with him. Deep in your bones even—"
"That is enough!"
Sandrine quickly broke through the thick air of emotion with her thundering tone. Antoine turned to her, stoic and solemn.
"I am coming this evening. Have the carriage take you and Odette to the ball and I will arrive shortly thereafter."
"We would be so lucky to be graced by your presence Lord Antoine. But more than anything I will be pleasantly surprised if you actually arrive tonight instead of tramping off to one of your brothels."
Antoine ignored Sandrine's snideness. "Odie. Did you hear what I said?"
"Yes papa."
His eye glistened with tears. Odette let him cry for them both. "Nothing like me. Ok?"
-
The ball was held at the Hall of McEvoy, once a palace for the McEvoy's of Ireland, who donated the fantastic hall to the French. It was an old, yet fantastic building that showcased bubbly arches and magnificent columns. It was braided by gardens of the most exotic florals; birds of paradise, roses from Egypt, saffron flowers from Iran, orchids, plumeria, several types of lilies, passionflowers, and of course, roses. Trees spackled the fields surrounding the great hall as well, Willows and Oaks, and Japanese maples. Many came to McEvoy Hall just to enjoy the gardens for a morning or afternoon stroll. But when a ball was held here, magic erupted.
Glowing candles lined the beautifully printed hallways, with its patterned prints and bright colours and the ceilings were marked with the most realistic paintings, shaded impeccably and lined with gold and silver foils. There were bouquets sprinkled around each room, with an array of candles standing attention, and hanging among intricate iron, brass, gold, and crystal chandeliers, hung with at least 10 to each room.
The balls at McEvoy were properly staffed of course, a person was never left with an empty glass. Champagne, wine, vodka, gin, rum, and other spirits flowed through each room generously. Among the spirits also treats and canapes of salmon, various mousses, petit fours, cakes, tarts, pork, dumplings, cheeses, breads, and fruits also lined the tables, and were offered to guests. People at the McEvoy Balls were always well-fed, drunk, high-spirited, and full of joy. Not often did a thing go wrong.
Sandrine gently descended out of the carriage, and Odette followed behind. "Hold your head up, and don't eat too much," Sandrine warned. Odette kept a still face, pretending to take in whatever her mother told her. They gave their invitations to the frontman and were led into the main hall, where a bushel of people dressed in diamonds, shiny leather boots, sparkling hair, and riche ruffles adorned every corner.
Odette peered around the room, recognizing a few faces and families. There were some new ones too. Unfortunately, she didn't get out too much these days, her head in a daze and depression after Pierre left. He carried such a life force with him and with Odette left to fend for herself against the agony of her parents. A ball conjured up some anxiety within her.
"Detty!" Rosline flung her arms around Odette with excitement. "Oh, I am SO glad to see you."
Odette perked up and flashed a big smile. "Oh Ro!"
"Yes yes I know you're happy to see me you silly girl I can read you from a mile away. Come on they have strawberry cream cake!"
Rosline led her away from Sandrine, Sandrine unfazed and walked off in the opposite direction.
Rosaline arrived at the first table feathered with sweets and tarts. She stretched her hand wide and grabbed 3 strawberry cream cakes, shoving one into Odette's mouth.
"Rothali!"
Rosaline giggled while taking a huge bite of her own. The third would be for them to share together. They stood comfortably and scanned the room while the creamy cakes melted in their mouths, their gloves with little pink spatters.
There were dukes and princes, princesses and ladies. Ladies Vertiose, Chenoux, and Van Hallson approchaed the girls in uniform fashion, heads held high.
"Lady Beaulieu, Lady Laroux."
"Good evening Margot and the outlaws."
Odette flapped her head towards Rosaline but quickly changed her expression, remembering whose arm she was holding onto. Rosaline was her quick-witted, spicy bestie.
"And outlaws. My word Rosaline have you no manners at all?"
"Oh no Victoria of course I do, I just know when to use them."
Victoria rolled her eyes and turned her head away as far as her neck would allow her, her golden curls bouncing to and fro on her shoulders.
"Rosaline, Odette, please come play tennis with us sometime!" Laura was the softer of the three, and genuinely was interested in knowing Odette and Rosaline better.
"Sure Laura! If you can actually get Odette to play any sort of sport besides riding, I will personally bow to you in public and would actually join you as well." The three girls laughed, leaving Victoria and Margot completely bored of such conversations.
"So girls, who do you have your eye on tonight?"