Blood Is Thicker than Water - Draft

Chapter 8 - The Bellamonte Manor

Clara

There was a slight tugging at my neck. When I opened my eyes, the early morning rays of dawn snuck in from behind the curtain. The tugging continued. I rolled over toward the sensation. Emilia, wide awake, had crawled over a sleeping Maman and now pulled at the pouch attached to the chain. She chewed on the soft fabric and the object that lay inside with her teething gums. Drool leaking from the corner of her puckered mouth. She gave a little giggle of delight once she saw I was awake.

"Emilia! Give that back!"

I whipped the charm from her pink, cherub hands—a mistake. Tears started to well in her baby blue eyes, followed by deafening cries.

I stuffed the pouch back under my nightgown before Maman had time to see what made Emilia cry.

"Claretta, what have you done this time?" Maman's voice was groggy from being woken.

"Emilia yanked my hair while I was asleep. She woke me up and pushed her away." I pretended to look ashamed and promptly added. "I am sorry for making her cry, Maman."

Maman sat herself up on the bed, scooping Emilia in her arms and rocking her back and forth until she quieted. With her free arm, she pulled me close and started to stroke my hair.

"Let me see if she did any damage. Hmmm, it all looks perfect to me." She smiled at me as her gentle fingers combed through my hair. "You have the loveliest hair, Clara. Just like your father's."

She twirled my loosened curls through her fingers, smiling happily down on me, then bending to place a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

A heavy knock resounded at the door, breaking the affectionate moment. 

"Hello?"

It was Papa.

"Yes, Henri?"

"Maurice wants to leave as early as possible. How long will you need to dress?"

"Oh...could you give us an hour?"

"I will tell him an hour then."

"Merci, mon amour!"

Instead of getting up right away, Maman decided to stay a few minutes longer, enjoying her company with the two of us. Then, slowly, she got out of bed to wash up at the basin frame.

We had plenty of time to change into clean undergarments from our trunks this time. We laced up our stays and pinned our petticoats. The touch of clean clothes against my skin helped wake me a bit more. Maman promised we would all have proper baths when we arrived at our uncle's plantation.

Once we finished, looking the best we could, Maman, Emilia, and I scuttled down the stairs to join the others for breakfast.

Again the Monsieur Bellamonte sat in his formidable chair at the end of the table, glaring at us as though we had just walked off the streets. Papa and Eugene sat close by. They rose to greet Maman and me with two pecks on the cheeks. 

I could smell fresh rolls of bread steaming in their baskets. Thick cubes of butter and an array of preserves were placed upon the white tablecloth beside them. This was something I had a little more familiarity with. My stomach growled, and I fought to restrain myself from grabbing the nearest sweet loaf in front of me.

"Sit down already! I'm starved," Eugene spoke for my growling stomach. He eyed the pot of steaming hot chocolate—something we only had on special occasions.