Purcell's Pairings | ✔

XVII

     THE RECOVERY DAYS were unnecessarily long. Annalise hadn't received anything more than a bit of a shake from her incident, and yet, the Bellegardes kept her on house rest for many days following her blackout. She had begun to figure out where Marius's nurturing traits came from. Both his aunt and his uncle were far from the rich people Annalise had grown up around. They despised using formal titles and greetings when at home, and they loved to gossip. His uncle, Oncle Paul, they referred to him as, was the quietest one of the bunch, but he was sincere and treated everyone with equal amounts of love and respect. Their tante, whom they called Auntie Dione, was quite literally the opposite of Paul when it came to the noise level they carried; the woman was loud and bubbly, and Annalise was positive she'd speak for hours at a time if she had the chance to. Both were caring and open-minded, and Annalise hadn't once felt like they were judging or somehow telepathically calling out her flaws the way her father seemed to do with her mother. They worked equally alongside one another, too, which really took Annie by surprise. Though they had one maid in their house to do the professional cleaning and tidying, Dione contentedly worked her way through the kitchen, and when Annalise asked if that was because Paul demanded she rested in that particular room, she'd responded in a nearly horrified tone, "No, ma belle, never! I love to cook." And if that wasn't surprising enough, Dione had followed up with a quiet, "Paul enjoys it, too."

     It turned out she was right, though Annalise was not sure why she had questioned it in the first place. Paul was a local fisherman, but he always snuck home a few bodies of fish to cook up for the evening. Annalise had been stunned the first time she set eyes on Paul, who'd been dressing up a meal. When she asked Marius about it, he seemed amazed that men didn't do that. "It's tradition," he told her. "In the Bellegarde household, we all help each other out."

     Annie wished it was the same back home. Or with John Arten, for that matter.

     John hadn't said two words since the night he had slapped her. He hadn't sent for anyone upon realizing she hadn't returned that day, and he hadn't written. She supposed he couldn't write much if he didn't know where she was staying, but if he was trying to court her, he'd find a way to seek her out. Marius had been right, there was much talk of the incident for the next day or two, and Annie believed that was plenty of time for anyone in the Arten cottage to understand what had happened. She could not fuss too much over it, though, because if she was being truthful, she did not wish to see John anytime soon. She adored Vinnie, but she knew that if that woman found out where she was, she would have announced it aloud, and surely John would have done something to hold her back. It was frightening to know just how much power John held in the tips of his fingers.

     Annalise had decided not to think too much about anything more than the day she was experiencing. She was eager to get another letter from Esther with the wedding plans; that was enough for her to go about her day happily.

     Today was about to reveal a new door for Annalise to step through. A door that she'd believed had had its knob rustled, its handle yanked free. The Bellegardes had offered her a canvas. She was going to paint again. This excited her upon first hearing it, and the young woman had tossed and turned all night. Painting, artwork, the only thing that truly made her feel at ease with herself. John had ripped that part of her away the moment he told her art was not from women to experience. Something had died inside of her that day; it had shriveled up and left a giant hole, but today she was given the opportunity to patch it back up. She was exhilarated.

     She'd dressed in canary yellow today, for nothing could dim her mood, and the bright colour supported her joy. She hurried quickly down the off-white stairs, nearly tripping in the process. She caught herself before she had the chance to fly down the stairs on her bum, however, and drew back ever-so-slightly, enough to give herself the confidence that she'd make it to the main floor in one piece. The windows were all open today, and a calming breeze danced through the house, swooping under the arches and around their bodies, gleefully adventuring further into the building. The air smelt of spring; fresh, blooming flowers, salty seawater, and new beginnings lingered around her.