I never did get to see the inside of the Lalumiere mansion. Since Monsieur Lalumiere had yet to return, Yvain managed to procure a couple of riding blankets for the fawn.
We watched Sylvan sniff around the stall, taking in his new home with large, curious eyes. His antics even got a chuckle out of Yvain who was slouched against the stall door most of the time.
It was early evening when we realized it had long passed noon. Not wishing for me to walk home alone, Yvain offered his company.
"Is it because of the bear?" I asked.
He looked over at me incredulously. "I don't know where you heard that." His eyes narrowed. "But yes. Until we can find the animal and kill it, I don't want to take the risk. I've gotten to like you, Beastie. It would be a shame if you got eaten."
I frowned deeply and looked ahead to see Régine running towards us in a cream blouse, brown skirt and black bodice.
"Acel!" Régine stood panting in front of me, her hands flapping excitedly.
"You're late," I replied grudgingly.
Yvain was stunned but offered his hand for her to lean on.
"I-I lost track of time a bit." Régine blushed and she twirled, her cloak flapping around her ankles. "Look! Isn't it lovely? And there's one outfit for both you and Belle waiting at home."
“But we can’t even afford new mittens?” I exclaimed, a cloud bursting from my lips.
My sister smoothed out her skirts before kneeling down to my level. "Eilert—" Régine blushed and shook her head, "Herr Leopold says that my stitching has improved so much and he’s been looking for a seamstress." Régine's hand fell into one of the skirt's pockets. "The new clothes were just a bonus."
My sister's fist opened and revealed five shiny coins gleaming in her palm. "It's an advance on this week's pay."
"Five livres a week," Yvain gasped at last, his eyes never parting from the coins. "He can afford to pay you that much?"
Régine nodded and then turned back to me. "That's why I was so late, I couldn't simply take good money from him for nothing so I laced the skirts of a few dresses he was planning to send to Port Libor."
I laughed and bounced on the stone, Régine’s beam becoming infectious.
"Congratulations." The rattled Yvain covered his mouth with a gloved hand and pushed me forward with the other. "Your sister was charming, and the fawn has taken to the stables magnificently."
Régine stood before curtseying to Yvain. "Thank you for looking after her, Monsieur Lalumiere."
He sighed and the breath fizzled out into the frigid air. "Please, call me Yvain," he said and not for the first time, still hoping it would stick one day.
Régine took my hand as she began to walk away, waving to him over her shoulder. "Thank you, Yvain."
I kept my eyes on his muscular frame as the large man stood stiffly in one of the snow drifts before hanging his head and returning home.
An impulsive urge seized my entire body and I yanked back on my sister’s hand and shouted across the street.
“It’s daffodils, Yvain!”
His head popped up from the sullen slouch. His perplexed expression and open mouth made me hesitant to give this man any more favours but I shouted one more time.
“It’s daffodils!”
My sister and I continued our trudge through the snow. If he wasn’t smart enough to understand, then it wasn’t by my hand he was miserable.
“What on earth about daffodils?” Régine asked out of curiosity.
I glanced up. “It’s your favourite flower, isn’t it?”
A torrent of emotions flooded my sister’s features. “You little-“
She jumped at me and a panicked giggle escaped my throat as Régine chased me through the snow.
She caught me with a throaty laugh of victory and wrapped her arms around my chest.
“You better hope he doesn’t come by with any.” Régine chuckled breathlessly, her warm arms tightening around my midsection as she toppled us both into a snowbank, laughing.
Just that moment several bodies exited the Picoux home. Marguerite and Gerard Picoux followed the head of House Bonenfant whom I only knew through gossip.
Monsieur Jochen Bonenfant was a stern looking man with wavy blond hair and a thin pointed nose. He wasn't particularly eye-catching and all of him but the regal black suit blended into the white streets.
He was holding the upper arm of a girl with a bonnet pulled tightly over her head. Cosette was now dressed from head to toe in thick black lace as if she were attending a funeral and her face was as pale as the trodden snow beneath her feet. Grey circles hung under her eyes and her bottom lip was trembling.
I wriggled out of my sister’s grasp. “Cosette.”
Her watery eyes latched onto mine as I came running up and the shock caused her head to bump against her father's elbow, knocking loose her bonnet just enough for a rippling red curl to fall out. Monsieur Bonenfant’s face pinched along his wrinkles in annoyance and he grabbed the black lacy bonnet and tugged if forcefully down over her eyes.
Repulsed and a little bit frightened by what I had witnessed, my boots rooted themselves into the ice beneath.
Then I noticed the muted looks of exasperation and hardship on the Picoux’s faces.
The pupils of Monsieur Bonenfant’s eyes were eclipsed by a white rage. Cosette’s father was as frigid as the biting winds that cut through them on their way to the sizeable house across the street. Régine’s arm enveloped me again, but this time to hold me still as Cosette was dragged away.
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