The Nightlife: Paris (The Nightlife Series) by Travis Luedke Read Free Book Online Page B

fabrics.  I begged Agnes to help me convince Jacques to let me study under
the popular dressmakers.  I dreamed of designing those exquisite gowns with
draping silk folds and plunging necklines, wonderful clothes that make you feel
like the most beautiful woman in the world for one special night.
    Then the following winter, mother died of pneumonia.  I
couldn’t believe it.  I hadn’t seen her in over a year and now she was gone. 
Tante and I took the first train south, only a few hours ride.  I could have
visited home any time, even for a weekend, but I’d been having too much fun in
the city to pay attention to my family.  A horrible guilt claimed me.
    Agnes comforted me with a shoulder to cry on and words of
wisdom.  “Your mother’s time has passed.  Honor her memory with your life.”  Tante
helped me through those dark hours.  I don’t know what I would have done
without her.
    My father held up well under the circumstances.  But he
wouldn’t allow me to stay at the Château after the funeral.  He insisted Agnes
and I return the next day to finish my studies.  I wanted to stay with Père, but
the Château reminded me constantly of my mother.  And so I left, secretly happy
to return to the bustle of Paris.
    Jacques visited rarely.  The thriving vineyard business and
the Château required his full attention.  He gave free reign to Agnes for direction
of my life, and for me to pursue a career in fashion design.  I became
obsessively immersed in all things fashion, studying diligently under several
different dressmakers.  I had become fully Parisienne .
    By my mid-twenties, Paris touted me as “the up-and-coming
new designer for high fashion.”  My career hit full swing by 1940.  At
twenty-six, men were no more than a pleasant distraction.  Agnes didn’t
pressure me to marry.  She thoroughly enjoyed the all-expense paid arrangements
and hoped it would continue indefinitely.  Père saw things differently.
    On his rare visits, Père always suggested an eligible suitor
who met his criteria for marriage, usually a middle-aged man of wealth with a
proper title of nobility somewhere in his lineage.  Despite his self-made affluence,
Jacques’ sights were set on ensuring his future grandchildren were brought up
the proper way, with a man of good stock .
    He pressured me constantly.  “ Ma chérie , you should not be alone, you are so
beautiful.  Ma belle ,
I wish you would marry.”
    “ Oui, Père, someday.  There is no hurry.  When the time is right I will marry for
love.  I have not met a man I can imagine spending every day of my life with.” 
The excuse grew old, as did I.
    Jacques was not known for his patience.  “You are not getting
any younger.  Soon you will be too old.  No decent man will want you!  And what
of children?  Your mother and I married when she was seventeen.”
    “Père!  That is just like you.  So bourgeois! ”
    “Would you have me die of old age without knowing my grandchild? 
My health is not so good!”  A blatant lie.  The man was healthy as a horse, but
he had no scruples about using emotional blackmail to get what he wanted. 
“I’ll not live forever, you know!”
    “And why have you never remarried Père?”
    “You know I am too old, too set in my ways.  What woman
would have me?”  A half-truth.  His beautiful blond hair, expressive green
eyes, and strength acquired from long days working in sun made for a handsome
man.  But I didn’t envy the woman who might attempt it.  My mother’s strength
of character had been tested daily by his imposing nature.
    These conversations always left me torn.  I wanted to please
my father, yet I knew I would be far happier pursuing my dreams.
    Then he changed tactics.  He found the Parisian hotel-mansion
for sale, an obvious ploy to tempt a suitor.  He showed it to me right away.  I
despised the opulent extravagance.  It seemed such a colossal waste of space,
squatting on most of a city