Beyond the Broken Angel

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

— church sunday —

September 14th, 1937
07:26 AM

IT WAS AS if their late night talk had never happened.

Giselle and Will were back to fighting, the latter pounding on the former's door as she was busy getting ready for church.

"It's five past!" Will called out. "How much longer will you be?"

Giselle ignored him, slipping into her heels as she simultaneously put her earrings on. She spared a glance at her reflection before opening the door, meeting a very unamused and annoyed Will on the other side.

She crossed her arms, looking up at him with her lips pursed in irritation. Her nerves were fried from lack of sleep, and the incessant knocking and disturbances from Will only made her sour mood worse.

"Are you done throwing a tantrum?" she asked him before shoving past and heading towards the foyer where Barbara was fussing with Selene about having to wear a hat.

Will followed after her. "I was not throwing a tantrum," he all but growled. "I was simply annoyed that a grown woman could be so irresponsible in regards to punctuality."

That spun Giselle around, her eyes shooting daggers at him. "Maybe I would've been a little bit faster if I would've gotten enough sleep last night."

Will crossed his arms. "I highly doubt a full night of rest would've reaped different results."

"Oh, Giselle," Marguerite cooed, locking her arm around Giselle's. "You just look darling in white," she said, motioning to her dress. "Doesn't she just look gorgeous, Will?"

Giselle immediately knew what the girl was doing, and wanted to recoil from her touch for it.

Will assessed her briefly before looking away and walking off, murmuring, "She'd look better if she had been more punctual."

Giselle pulled back from Marguerite once he was out of earshot, herding everyone out of the front door.

"I told you I don't need any matchmaking," she told Marguerite.

Marguerite just smiled, attaching herself back to Giselle and pulling her forward. "Oh, but you wouldn't have found out that he thought you were gorgeous without my skills."

"He never said—"

"It was all spoken in the way he looked at you," Marguerite explained. "Did you not see the way his eyes went over your body? And he took his time, too. See, I told you he finds you to be a beautiful girl." She winked. "Oh, and don't expect me to stop my little escapades anytime soon. Gentilly is a boring little town," she rolled her eyes, "and matchmaking seems to be the only exciting thing."

"Where exactly did you live before coming here?" Giselle was quick to change the subject.

Marguerite sighed, looking off. Her exhale sounded anything but normal, much too dramatized and feminized to be organic. "Manchester. My darling Manchester, how I miss you." She looked back to Giselle. "I suppose I miss Manchester more than my own father. Actually, I'm a bit miffed that he had to die like that, leaving me to come here."

She sighed again, this time sounding genuine. Giselle could hear the anger in her breath.

"Did you not like your father?" Giselle asked. It was nosy, and seemed to be a sore subject, but she just couldn't keep herself from asking. Maybe it was to spite Marguerite for being nosy and intrusive herself.