The Mask of New Paris ✓

II. The Whitacres

My last week in Eauville flies by. It went so fast, I nearly forget about the reason why it was so packed with social activities. I visit the Wilt sisters and Agnes Bullard, who also enjoyed tutoring with me, at the Wilt's home, my sister Irene and my aunt Mabel. I offically announce my departure to the personnel of Mcgoldnick Trade. As a Mcgoldnick, I was born to help around in the company. The evening before my guests would arrive, the debutantes threw me a party in my honor as we had done with the other debutantes of our year.

Still weary from last nights events, I shut my eyes to avoid the burning sunlight. My mum was busy ordering Frea and Judy around, so the latter comes to seek refuge in my room.

"Are you still in bed?" She says shocked. With hasty steps, she approaches me and sits down on the duvets. Judy's hand runs through the mess that is my hair. "You forgot to take of your makeup again." She informs me, but at this ungodly hour she only receives a grunt as response.

I sit up, my mind fully awake once mum bursts into the room and nearly gets a fit when she notices I'm still undressed. She nearly heaves me into the bathroom and orders Frea to bring me a kettle of cold water to refresh myself. I squint to the mirror. Judy was right. I did forget to take of my makeup and like always the black kohl was smeared around my eyes giving me permanent bags underneath them.

I sigh and freeze when my hand touches the cold water that Frea had brought. I curse and immediately my mum responds.

"Don't you ever use that language around the Whitacres, young lady!"

As soon as I am somewhat presentable and changed into a simple green skirt and white blouse, I dare to come downstairs. Papa seems to be out of the house which makes me sigh in relief. I can handle a stressed mum, but a stressed papa is a whole different story.

I sneak into the kitchen. My eyes form giant platters and my stomach loudly groans at the sight of deliciously prepared food waiting for me at the kitchen table. But before I can take a bite, Frea returns to the kitchen and sternly shows me the way out.

Fur dances between my bare legs and tiny feet tap on my bare ones. The grey Rosie dances between my feet, lifting her tail to trail my calves. Her tiny paws are playing with my toes. I jokingly roll my eyes before I bend over to fetch Judy's cat. However, the creature doesn't want to be caught yet and sneaks her way through my hands. She disappears underneath the lace tablecloth in the dining room.

I smirk. No animal is too fast for me. I fall on my knees and crawl under the table. There's she sitting, lazily licking one of her paws. She looks up and sees me. Rosie freezes.

"Here, kitty." I whisper, making a ticking noise with my tongue. I lunge for the feline and fail to hear footsteps approaching the dining room. As soon as I see three pair of foreign shoes coming my way, I hesitate. Do I dug under the table entirely or do I show myself in this remarkable state?

The decision is made for me when I hear my father thunder my name. Blushing heavily and holding Rosie tight in my embrace I scramble from underneath my hiding spot. I smile weakly to my father who seems embarassed to say the least. The Whitacres stare at me and the Mrs clearly has to make an effort not to gawk. With as much grace I can possibly fathom, I place Rosie back onto the ground and the cat scurries away as a lightning bolt.

I focus back on the family in front of me. "Goodday, Sir. Ma'am." I nod stiffly to the parents, folding my hands behind my back. 

Mr. Whitacre stares me down as he's holding his hat in his hand. I wonder if he's trying to decide if retreating is still possible. He's a tall man and exactly like how I imagined a man from New Paris would be dressed. Cladded in stiff trousers and a buttoned up vest, he offers me the image of a wealthy businessman. Mrs. Whitacre shakes off her previous state of speechlesness and invites me for a simple kiss on the cheek.