The Consequences of Champagne and Murder

Chapter Twenty-Two - If I'm Forced to See One More Clock, I'll Throw a Fit

There was nothing that would have been more welcome at that moment than a swift and painless death. I jumped away from Jacqueline until I almost reached the other side of the room. Yet, the distance between us made the whole situation more awkward, but I couldn’t find it in myself to stay next to her when Jacqueline’s own damn father had witnessed my hands creeping suspiciously close to her bosom. 

Luckily, neither Jacqueline nor her father were paying me any attention. They continued to stare at each other, rooted in place like anchors had been strapped to their feet. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. I glanced between them, searching for the opportune moment to bolt to the door before whatever trance the two were in faded. But all I could think of was how strange it was to see two people together who looked so similar to Étienne. 

Monsieur Chaffee was much older and much paler, but they shared the same delicate cast to their features and the same rounded eyes. If Étienne, Jacqueline, and their father were all to stand next to each other, there would be no doubt they were related. And something about that sparked a twinge of jealousy in me. 

How many times had Étienne and I explained our relationship? How many times had the both of us been laughed at, like our claim to be brothers was all an amusing jest? Étienne’s father had left him for fifteen years. He didn’t know Étienne preferred to spend his days outside staring up at the wind flitting through the trees. He hadn’t seen the great stacks of books in our library Étienne had read about astronomy and plants and birds. He hadn’t been there all the times Étienne had saved my life. 

Now, his father was here and Jacqueline was here and both of them barely knew my brother and it wasn’t fair. 

Monsieur Chaffee broke the trance then, taking a step closer to Jacqueline, one tentative hand outstretched. But a moment later, Jacqueline retrieved her fallen dagger from the floor and pointed it out in front of her. 

“Don’t come any closer,” she said. Her words were whispered and broken, wetness glittering in the corners of her eyes.

Her father stopped. “Jacqueline, I—” 

“You left me,” she said. The dagger in her hand shook. “You took my brother away, never contacted me, and left me waiting for you to come back. I didn’t even know if you were alive. Don’t you dare try to act as if I will come running into your arms now.” 

“That was never my intention, Jacqueline, I swear it. You must believe me.” 

I stepped away from the wall, inching my way closer to the door. “As exciting as this all is, I feel odd being here since neither of you are related to me, and we’re in someone else’s house.” 

“Olivier, wait,” Jacqueline called out at the same time Monsieur Chaffee said, “You kissed my daughter.” 

I paused, one foot hovering in the air. “Yes, indeed that happened, yes. I had gone from overwhelming horror to simple mortification over the whole ordeal, but, yes, thank you for reminding me you saw.” 

“I asked him to kiss me to create a distraction,” Jacqueline said. “It wasn’t real.” 

It wasn’t real. 

I knew that, but why did it feel as if something had stung me directly in the chest? 

“And exactly who are you?” her father asked. I could tell he was trying to keep his gaze fixed on me, but his eyes kept straying to Jacqueline. 

I continued walking to the door, hoping my urgency to escape would overshadow my desire to melt into the walls. “I would love to discuss my mortification in more detail with you, monsieur, I truly would. But perhaps now isn’t the best time seeing as your daughter and I both snuck in here to take something, and if we’re caught, we will, in fact, be arrested, so—”