Page 6 of The Beautiful Ones

“B-b-b—”

Madame sighed.

Cécile closed her mouth.

“The blue,” I decided. “It brings out her eyes.”

“You always choose blue,” Madame complained.

“Then perhaps the rose.”

“The rose makes her appear flushed.”

I looked at the third gown. “The cream is very fine.”

“It is too plain.”

Cécile’s fingers tightened around the edge of the dressing table.

“Blue,” I said firmly.

Madame made an impatient sound. “Very well. The blue. See that the lace is changed. The Belgian collar, not the cheap one.”

“Yes, Madame.”

“And do something with her hair. The curls fell within an hour last time.”

“Yes, Madame.”

Madame crossed the room and lifted Cécile’s chin. Her daughter stiffened beneath her touch.

“Judge and Mrs. Dewey will arrive this afternoon. The Georges may come before them. Warren Dewey has recently returned from Richmond, and I am told he has become a very agreeable young man.”

Cécile’s eyes moved toward me.

“You will come downstairs before supper,” Madame continued. “You will smile when our guests arrive. If someone asks after your health, you will say, ‘I am very well, thank you.’ Nothing more is required.”

Cécile swallowed.

“Go on,” her mother commanded.

“I—I am v-v-very—”

“Slowly.”

Cécile tried again. “I am v-v-v—”

“Do not force the word.”

Tears shone in Cécile’s eyes.

Madame released her chin. “This is precisely why we must rehearse. You allow nervousness to defeat you before anyone has said a word.”

“She has only just awakened,” I said. “Perhaps after breakfast—”

“I did not ask you, Elin.”

“No, Madame.”