GIFTED EYES (book two)

Chapter 11: pride

Geneviève

She was never one to touch an instrument. The silent voice of fear always held her back from ever learning. A career of passion was never an option either, for only the rich and privileged could ever follow such a path.

Ever since Juliette's conversation with the Viscountess, the lifeless store has grown a bright glow. Juliette's hair in a mess, and Samuel running from corner to corner handling customers and furniture all at once. From afar, one could argue they are brimming with stress, but up close, Geneviève can see a light has ignited between the two, sharing a language only they could speak.

This is what marriage must be like. She thinks to herself. Unity and commitment. Geneviève is not use to seeing such an image. Her brother and her were raised in a silent home. It is exhilarating to watch and even then, Samuel is still careful to be gentle with Juliette. Carrying as much workload as possible without her noticing.

The Viscountess would visit from time to time of course. She would enter the door with a line of servants carrying boxes upon boxes of useless decor following her. Even in the freezing cold, drops of sweat would hang from the tips of their noses while only a single umbrella would be held within her hand. The other, pointing to every corner of the room ever so delicately.

"There," she would say. "And there. Yes. That color would do nicely."

No announcement has been made. Not a single contract has been signed according to Juliette. Only a promise of whispers to be made of their business amongst the wealthy during the balls and dinner. If it is approved by the public, a contract will be made, but until then, this all must remain a secret for the sake of the Viscountesses image.

"Who knew word of mouth can go so far." Geneviève whispers to Althea beside her, the two standing behind the front desk.

"Of course it would. Aristocrat's love to gossip," she whispers back. "What else is there to do in that freakishly big castle with not a care in the world?"
Geneviève's lips itch to curl.

"You see that servant beside her," Althea says to her. "His job is to hold her umbrella for her. She merely pretends to hold it when she walks in to make herself look more personable."

Geneviève scoffs. Something so ridiculous could not be true. In what way would that present as personable? Geneviève could sell herself to pure slavery in the shadows for her entire life and she still would not make at least a quarter of what that umbrella must cost.
"You sure it's only aristocrat's that gossip?"

Althea rolls her eyes. "Ha. Ha."  She deadpans.

"Today, a special guest will be coming," the Viscountess says. "He will need his shoes cared for," she leans in, her heals so painfully high that she towers above Samuel. "Do this right, and I will have your family moving into my peoples territory in no time."

A flame of desperation ignites within Samuel's gaze.
A chance at life.
Geneviève's chest squeezes.

If Geneviève ever spoke about joining the in-between when living in the shadows, laugher would be the only response she would receive. It's a fools game to ever dream of such a thing, and yet, here it is, right within arms reach.

Juliette steps between them, her eyes like knives as she is rather pessimistic to the Viscountesses words. It is then Geneviève notices how timid Samuel is compared to Juliette's brute and confrontational nature. It only makes sense, considering how much he must humble himself to fall before another man's feet.

"You can count on us." She says sternly. The woman stares down Juliette, almost peering through her in an attempt to find a crack within her words, but to her surprise, only confidence is all she can find. The Viscountess gives her a prideful grin.