Read Online Belle Epoque by Elizabeth Ross - Free Book Online Page A

to seize life for myself. It was then that the explosive idea of running away to Paris flashed with the fizzing brightness of striking a match. And that flame remained hissing and sparking in my chest. It stayed bright and grew bigger and wouldn’t be extinguished.

S ATURDAY EVENING, AND THE AGENCY is buzzing with activity in preparation for a busy night. All but the new girls and those mentors without plans are stuck in the salon, enduring another lesson with Girard.
    I let her voice float over me as I watch the sky outside bruise from gold to purple. Night is rising in Paris, and I wear my dread of the impending evening like an unwanted hand-me-down. If only Marie-Josée were here to reassure me. We haven’t crossed paths since yesterday, before my meeting with the Duberns. I’m desperate to tell her what happened with Isabelle, but this morning I was stuck in a fitting for my evening dress and this afternoon she went out on a repoussoir date, stretching it long enough to get out of training.
    “October marks the start of the Paris season,” lectures Girard. “All the rich Parisian families have returned from their country chateaus or foreign travel and are back on the socialmerry-go-round.” I wish she would stop; her words only add to my anxiety.
    “As employees of this agency, you will experience the best of everything—opening night at the theater, opulent banquets and exclusive balls. You will be driven everywhere by carriage, will wear costume jewels and fine clothes.”
    I hear a couple of snickers at that last comment. The girls take bets on whether our seamstress, Madame Leroux, is colorblind or has naturally abominable taste. Whatever the reason, her talent for making us look bad is legendary.
    Girard drones on. “People not in the know will think you belong in these social circles. All you have to do is fit in and serve your client.”
    I can’t sit still; I keep shifting in my seat. Everyone seems restless. A lot of us new girls have already been on solo dates, and the training is feeling redundant. It didn’t help me in the one meeting I had with Isabelle Dubern.
    “I want to finish today’s lesson by discussing one of the subtleties of your role,” Girard announces, then pauses to emphasize the importance of what she’s about to say, but for me it just feels as though she’s stopping time. Shouldn’t we be done by now? I look at the clock: two minutes remain.
    “A successful client-repoussoir relationship is based on the appearance of friendship—a close one.”
    This remark gets my attention. I haven’t stopped thinking about the countess’s words to me since she spoke them.
    Girard goes on, “The comparison effect can only work if you can make yourself a mirror to your client, staying close enough to magnify her beauty. The client will play her part and be niceto you, treat you like a best friend, share secrets, and laugh with you. You must also play your part.”
    I want to shake my head. But what if your client is being duped by her mother? What if she doesn’t know she has a part to play? If Girard were a little more approachable I might ask her advice, but Marie-Josée is the only person I trust. I must speak to her before I leave for the Duberns’—she will know what to do.
    “Remember, the closer you appear to your client, the better the result.” Girard gestures dramatically, one hand on her heart, the other reaching out to some imaginary public. “Think of yourself as an actress on the stage.…”
    Before she can finish her speech the clock on the mantelpiece chimes and the lesson is finally at an end.
    I am the first out of the salon. Maybe Marie-Josée has returned while I was stuck in class. I run along the corridor to the dressing room, fling open the door and survey the room, looking for her familiar round figure. But as I stand there out of breath and searching, I realize instantly that she’s not here. A few more girls drift into the dressing room and step around