Chapter Text
Chapitre deux - Ladies to be
In an old house in Paris all covered in vines,
Lived twelve little girls in two straight lines…
-Ludwig Bemelmans, Madeline
“Manon,” Marinette said, watching from the ground at the horror above her. High in the branches of the old elm tree, Manon Chamack was swinging upside down. No one moved to retrieve her. They, too, were unsure of what to do. “Get down from there. What if you fall and split your head?”
“I won't fall,” Manon said, swinging a bit more violently now. “I'm a monkey.”
“Yes, that's nice, but you don't have a tail to help keep your balance. Now, please . Before they send for the headmaster.”
Manon let out a sigh and climbed down the wide trunk, as if she wasn't hindered by her petticoats and skirts at all. She was nearly ten and already a troublemaker. They were going to have some problems with her later on.
Marinette went about fixing her skirts while some of the other girls and servants kept an eye out for the headmaster and the teachers.
Manon allowed Marinette to fuss about her, as she had done so for as long as she could remember. She really did appear fine, if a little disheveled. However, she stiffened, eyes going wide.
“Headmaster’s coming,” one of the servants said. They all looked about, unsure of what to do. Many of them looked to Marinette.
Marinette’s eyes flickered around the area, surveying the scene. She didn’t much of a choice, so it was just going to have to work.
“Do you trust me?” she said, looking to Manon.
“Yes, I –” Manon began. She didn't get to finish, as she was shoved rather unceremoniously into a pond. She let out a little shriek, mostly because the water was cold.
The servants all gaped at the two ladies, not quite sure of what to make of the situation. Marinette moved to Manon’s side helping her out of the water, just as the headmaster was coming around the bend.
He blinked owlishly at the scene in front of him. Servants were about, looking startled. His students, out in their seasonal cloaks and skirts, had abandoned their game of badminton — some still holding their rackets. Behind him, his guests tried to gauge the situation.
“Are you alright?” Marinette said, hauling Manon out of the pond. Her own shoes and skirts getting wet in the process.
“You pushed –” Manon said, only to be stopped once again by Marinette.
“I wasn't watching where I was going. Sorry. The game got a little out of control. Let's get you inside and into fresh clothes, hm?” She draped her own cloak about Manon’s shoulders. She feigned surprise at seeing the headmaster. “Oh, sir, I'm terribly sorry. Our game got wild, and I bumped into Mademoiselle Chamack. She fell into the pond, you see. Everyone sort of reacted all at once, and, well…”
“Good afternoon, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” Headmaster Damocles said. He blinked his amber gaze down at her. “Please take Mademoiselle Chamack inside before she catches a cold. We'll do introductions to you ladies later.”
He moved aside and allowed them to pass. She glanced over at the guest – a handsome well-to-do young man a little older than her with dark hair and cold, gray eyes. She was annoyed with him already.
She moved past him just the same, practically dragging Manon indoors. They were welcomed with warm quilts into the nearly stifling kitchens. One of the maids was sent up to Manon’s room to retrieve a flannel nightgown from her trunk.
Marinette removed her shoes and draped her stockings over an empty stool near the fire. She spread out her skirt just at the edges of the ashes, letting the heat dry them.
Manon sat, shivering in her underthings with a paisley quilt cloaking her entire figure while she waited. She sent Marinette spiteful glares. It was hard to take her seriously, however. Her face was too sweetly shaped and the way the firelight danced in her eyes made the whole expression seem more teasing than menacing or threatening.
“Would you rather he punish you for climbing a tree?” Marinette said thoughtfully.
“You could have just told me to fall in,” Manon said. “I would have done it. I think you bruised my hubris bone.”
“It's humerus. And it's the bone in your upper arm. You probably bruised your tailbone, if anything.”
Manon rolled her eyes. She lit up when the servant returned with her nightgown. The maid quickly helped her into it, the men in the kitchens offering them a little privacy – more so out of respect than anything else. It wasn't like she had quite reached her Lady time quite yet.
“Your maman would be disappointed in you, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” a servant said. “Pushing innocent girls into ponds.”
“Maman’s done worse, and you know it.”
The servant held back a snort and set herself up to fix Manon’s hair. Well, what she could fix of it, anyway.
“I just hope Chloe or Sabrina don’t find out.”
“Ugh,” Manon said, wrinkling her nose. “Those two. I don’t know why we put up with them.”
“Because,” Marinette said, raising her eyebrows. To any outsider, it would appear merely as the end of the conversation, to them, however, passed between them with a few facial expressions.
“Do you ladies need any more assistance?” the servant said, looking Manon over.
“Can we get some cakes and tea?” Manon said, batting her eyes innocently.
“Manon!” Marinette said, frowning at her.
“Shall I bring them up to your room Mademoiselle Chamack?” the servant said.
“Yes, please!”
Marinette rolled her eyes and draped her arm around Manon’s shoulders. She gave her a squeeze and led her out of the kitchen.
“Alright,” she said, “tea and cake, then you go to bed. We don’t need you catching a cold.”
“Will you need help changing your skirt, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng?” the servant said, poking their head out of the kitchen doors.
“No, thank you. I can manage myself.”
The servant dismissed herself and, Marinette supposed, got to the task of brewing tea and platting a slice of cake for Manon.
The pair made their way up to the students’ private quarters. The spacious rooms overlooked the gardens, which were slowly wilting and turning brown from the early frost.
Manon’s rooms were a mess — skirts and petticoats and stockings strewn about in haphazard piles, school books half open (and one smeared with what looked like raspberry jam), letters from her mother scattered around.
Manon went to her tea table, which was the only thing completely free of clutter, and sat down to wait for her tea and cake.
Marinette, on the other hand, got to work in organizing everything so there would be some clarity to the mess. She was mostly done by the time the servant arrived. Together, they finished up while Manon enjoyed her treat.
By the time they had organized what they could, Marinette had to go down for dinner. Manon, much to her disappointment, was confined to her bed.
As usual, Marinette was late. She had little trouble finding a spot to sit, however, and didn’t get scolded like she thought she would — although the glare Madam Mendeleiev sent her was punishment enough.
“What did I miss?” she said to the girl who had saved her a seat. She loaded her plate with as much food as she thought she could eat.
“Not much,” the girl, Alya, said, scooping some of the mashed potatoes off her plate and adding them to her own. “We have two new footmen.”
She nodded over to where the men stood off to the side. One — the gray eyed man from before — looked pained to be standing there while they ate. The other stood erect, his posture perfect and his face neutral.
Neither were relatively noteworthy.
“At least they’re not suitors,” Marinette said, shovelling a spoonful into her mouth.
Alya snorted into her cup.
“You alright, Alya?” said one of the girls further down the table.
“I’m fine,” she said, gently elbowing Marinette’s side. Much quieter, she added, “Sit up straighter and eat slower. We have curious eyes on us.”
Marinette turned and saw the familiar face of one of the suitors watching them. She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back the shudder. She had nothing against Monsieur Cataldi, she just didn’t like the prospect of marrying the man. Especially because of the reason he’d come. She tried not to think about it.
Not that he would be able to… understand everything. They wouldn’t allow him to.
“Full moon tonight,” one of the other girls at the table, Mylene, said. Marinette caught the glance she gave them.
“Yes,” said another, Rose, “it’s the first of the season.”
“Do you think we’ll be able to see the stars tonight?”
“I don’t think so,” Alya said. “This is Paris, remember? We never see the stars.”
Conversation at their end of the table died down after that. Their cutlery clicked and scratched against the plates as they ate. Voices of the other girls rose, their laughter light and merry. When dinner was done and dessert was served, they were all escorted up to their quarters.
Manon was waiting for them, still dressed in her nightgown. The delight from earlier had faded. She sat in front of the fire, jabbing at the burning logs with the iron poker.
“Full moon tonight,” she said as the nine other girls who shared the living space with her entered.
Marinette thanked the servants and sent them on their way. No, none of them would need any assistance getting ready for bed. As always.
She stayed by the door until she heard the fateful click of the lock settling into place. Just like always, they were locked in the room.
“Yes,” Rose said, “it’s the first of the season.”
“We won’t see any stars,” Mylene said, drooping into the plush chair in front of the fireplace.
“It’s too bright to see the stars in Paris,” Alya said.
Another girl, with long blonde hair scoffed.
“You all sound so dead,” she said to them, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She looked over to the redhead standing next to her “Right, Sabrina?”
“Huh?” Sabrina said, blinking. “Oh, uh, yes! Like Chloe says, you all sound so dead.”
“I’m not looking forward to tonight,” Alya said. “I don’t think any of us are, including you two.”
Both Chloe and Sabrina frowned, though neither said anything to disagree with her.
“Do we have to go?” Manon said, flopping backwards. The way her arms and legs were angled, it hardly seemed like a comfortable pose. “My feet still hurt from Monday.”
“That was four days ago,” Sabrina said.
“I know!”
Marinette sighed and kicked off her shoes.
“We don’t have a choice in this,” she said. “Come, we have to get ready.”
There were groans from each of them. Myelne had to haul Manon to her feet. Together they slipped into fine silk dresses with beautiful brocades. Some had soft velvet trims, others delicate lace or ribbon. Their hair and makeup were sensible, yet fashionable. Once their soft leather shoes were on, they were ready.
Mylene, Rose, and another girl, Juleka closed the curtains to seal off any light. Alix, the last girl who shared their quarters, assisted Alya in pulling back the rug in the center of their sitting room. Marinette, Sabrina, and Manon set off to blow out all the candles. Chloe, meanwhile, stood off to the side and examined her nails.
Once the room was consumed by the darkness, there was a faint glowing from the spot the rug had been. A set of stairs leading down shimmered into view. The soft glow from the stairs cast an eerie glow about the room and across their faces. Although none of them could see the bottom, they all knew where it would lead.
“Is everyone ready?” Alya said, looking around the nine of them. No one said anything, only nodded. “Alright then, let’s go.”
They descended down.