RemissionPrologue
She had the most beautiful hands, fine and slender with elegant fingers.
The pair of bracelets she wore, of an exquisite Eastern design, was a work of art. A heavy gold rope studded with pigeon’s-blood rubies bound each wrist. Five more delicate ropes, linked separately on the bracelet, extended the length of her hands, then joined onto one link attached to a heavy gold ring on her middle finger. Thus, the backs of her hands were covered with a triangle of chains adorned with finely worked, miniature gold medallions set with larger rubies.
Guillaume Marler wondered what the bracelets’ importance were to her.
She wore them always, and Guillaume had to design her gloves specially to fit over them. The medallions and the stone settings eventually wore the kidskin, stretched it, tore holes in it.
Mademoiselle--he knew her by no other name, only that Angelus des Lourdes was her legal guardian and, some whispered, was eager to be more--had been his regular customer for the better part of three or four years. Guillaume could easily believe Angelus coveted the young lady's warm exotic beauty for himself. She had blossomed, a rare exquisite bud blooming to glorious womanhood. Her heart-shaped face with its high cheekbones, slender nose, and tapered chin was delicate and symmetrical. Her eyes were large, almost too large to be beautiful, and almond-shaped, set slightly aslant so that the outer corners tilted upwards, and they were as dark and warm as good strong coffee. Her dark pink mouth, large, full, and sensuously curvy, begged for kisses. Her complexion was without blemish, the colour of clear honey covered in rich cream and her thick dark hair fell in swirls of ringlets to her slender waist.
When Guillaume had first seen her, a young girl approaching womanhood, her exotic prettines had awed him. Now Mademoiselle was a woman with voluptuous curves just where any red-blooded man wanted them, ripe and luscious and ready to be loved. The milliner sighed inwardly and remembered when he was young
“Merci, Guillaume, they are lovely.” She had a beautiful voice as well. Lyrical and pretty.
He smiled pleasantly and closed the ornately lacquered glove-box. They did not discuss payment, he already knew the bill would be paid when he sent it to Charrier. She spent a small fortune on some of his best gloves and came in often.
“Mademoiselle would not need to replace her gloves so often if she would wear them without her bracelets.” Guillaume had once told her. He had been afraid she would fault the quality of his products since they so regularly needed to be replaced.
“I can’t.” A disturbing look had crossed her features. Not sadness, not fear. Something far more subtle, combining the two.
As if there was some terrible consequence to be suffered if she took off her bracelets!
"Au revoir." He waved and smiled as she left quietly, her maid carrying the box of new gloves. As he watched her barouche drive away, Guillaume smiled drolly and shook his head over the eccentricities of foreigners...