Extraits des journaux de Gabrielle Thibault [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Gabrielle Thibault

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12 septembre 1942 [26.03.08|11:30]
[Humeur actuelle | infuriated]

Lalage Parkinson was perfectly horrible to me this afternoon and there was absolutely no cause for it. Why does she care what happens to Aristotle's marriage? Does she really think that he deserves to be married to a woman like Hyacinthe? Hyacinthe can be a perfect twit sometimes, but she is still a DeVries!

At any rate it's the outside of enough for her to imply that it's my fault they're separated. Clearly I have alienated Hyacinthe's affections--that must be why she's pregnant, because that's absolutely my fault, it must be! Didn't you know, they gave me Dracaena's prick when they took it off? Idiots. Dracaena's behind this story. I smell her all over it like rotten apples and poisoned honey. Lalage doesn't listen to Dracaena, but that doesn't mean that Dracaena doesn't have friends who are friends of Lalage's friends.

Well, two can play that game. Dracaena's turning me out of my house, for God's sake, we'll see how that plays to the crowd! Her solicitors are just awful, saying that they're going to be moving other people in as early as Monday, and if I'm not out by then I'll just have to live with her people, and that the elves can't stay, they belonged to my father's house anyway. She lets Lucius do whatever he pleases, and if he ends up fit for nothing but a country squire it won't be my fault--he doesn't know how to handle elves, he's awful to Dobby, and she says that's my fault when she'll have nothing to do with the elves!

Étienne wants us to come and stay with him. Hyacinthe won't hear of it, but I expect a week with my brother Philippe and his wife will fix that.

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11 septembre 1942 [09.01.08|01:22]
[Humeur actuelle | irate]

Hyacinthe is pregnant. I'm fairly certain of it, though she denies it. There are really not a whole lot of other things that cause breast tenderness, nearly-constant nausea, interminable trips to the bathroom and dozing at plays, particularly when I know perfectly well that she wasn't up before noon. I have no earthly idea what to do about this. None what. so. ever.

Shadrach Bones is making all sorts of noises about finding a rental for me. I have been told that I am not allowed to keep Aristotle's wife on Malfoy property. Apparently Her Ladyship is going to give me an allowance and return my dower property (such that it was), but she wants her townhouse back. I have no idea why; I can't imagine her choosing to live here, even if it would be better for her lover to be near his work. They assure me that I will have my pick of several places, that it will be commensurate with my dignity; but I am fairly sure that it will not be nearly as nice as this place.

I hope she doesn't plan to give it to that wretched boy of Gloriana's. I can't believe I never figured out who that was. I really did think he was Julian's child. Not hers, though enough people certainly believed that; if she'd ever had a son, by anyone, she would never have attempted it with me again, and there would be no Lucius.

Artemisia's daughter isn't old enough to have a townhouse, though, and I shall absolutely be livid if she turns the place over to Alessio and his child-bride, or Marco and the Ducas girl. They're not even Malfoys. I'm sure she wants me to move in with Philippe and Willow. Or Lord DeVries. The ghastly thing is that I think Étienne wants the same damned thing.

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4 septembre 1942 [30.04.07|01:29]
[Humeur actuelle | pleased]

Hyacinthe is settling in nicely. We had a lovely dinner and disported ourselves pleasantly for a while thereafter, but I've sent her to bed by herself. I could have had her, but then she'd wake up in the morning shocked at herself and begin to question everything. Either that, or she'd decide she was in love with me and never go back to Tintagel, which would mean I should not have the pleasure of returning her to Aristotle thoroughly debauched, nor would I have her valuable opinion of the goings-on in Tintagel.

Of course we've heard quite a bit about that. Servilia saw Dracaena at St Mungo's, fussing over that feckless brat Alessio and his child bride, and as much as Priscilla Chattox-Kyteler dislikes me, she can't much like what they're doing to Portia. But Servilia also assures me that the Minister of Magick has heard my complaints, not to mention those of the Parkinsons.

I still could wish for Evander in the Minister's seat--but the Mudblood Fortune might come in handy eventually, anyway.

If I am to be put aside, I'll be annulled and not divorced. They promised me a husband, never mind that I didn't want one; but they married me to a woman in the body of a man and no matter what some people say about it not being her fault, it certainly was not mine.

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22 août 1942 [12.04.06|16:10]
[Humeur actuelle | aggravated]

I am surrounded by incompetence.

Étienne thought it was a good thing for Carmela García to be able to keep Zabini in durance; Dobby cannot keep himself from being noticed; and Poppaea just had to leave her glass palace and throw stones at Kyteler’s fortress of doom.

And my solicitors are telling me that if I do not go to Tintagel tomorrow to kiss Dracaena’s pert pale arse, she can in fact cut me out of everything she possesses so long as she returns my dower property, which amounts to not much. Because she can speak to the goblins in their own language.

I wonder what stupid thing Septimus will do next.

At least I have my townhouse. And my own servants. And a certain amount of influence, and my friends.

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10 août 1942, plus tard [06.01.06|10:16]
[Humeur actuelle | enraged]

Things like this never happen when Lucius' proper cousins are here--the Rosiers, my nephew Edouard, the Crabbes, even the Goyle boy! And there are so many of Lucius' cousins that he barely knows who would be far better friends for him than the ones he's made--Alexandre and Camille DeVries, for instance! He doesn't know any of the Black children yet, either...

And St John Saunders thinks that Lucius hasn't enough play time. That he ought to be allowed to run wild through the Bois even more than he already does. I'm sure that's exactly how he grew up, given what my cousin chose to marry, and his sisters aren't even witches except for the one, but it's not what I want for my son, that he should be this sort of hellion.

I'm keeping that broom for at least a week. And I know he has others, but I'll get those out of his rooms once he's allowed out of them again.

He doesn't need to be writing to those children either, but that awful owl of his bit me. I wanted him to have an owl with lots of fight, because I know that Dumbledore will certainly get into his post once he's at school, but I never meant for the damnable thing to fight ME...

Somehow he has got to be civilised.

I almost had her. Another hour and I'd have had her in my bed. That great dour hulking puritan neglects her. She will be mine, I'm determined. After the children are in school at the very latest; once they're gone there can be no chance of such a thing recurring. And to think I trusted Lucius to keep them out of my way!

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10 août 1942 [05.01.06|16:08]
[Humeur actuelle |predatory]

I always did suspect that Evander Warrington must resent the fact that he's had to be the superior of record for several of Kyteler's more notorious failures--most especially my late husband. And I was right; how gratifying. The Pureblood aristocracy will never accept Kyteler completely even if his blood is just as thin and blue as my own, because he turned against his own kin, and Slytherins, which is what most of us are (even if I'm not), just don't. The fact that he's only following his late father's footsteps in so doing won't matter, nor will it matter to the worst of them that Aisling Lady Kyteler is mad as a hatters' guild and very likely a Grindelwald sympathiser. The fact remains that he has turned against his own kin, and has three times rejected the Beltane Knights' attempts to recruit him, because he is a known Muggle-lover, and he is the reason we cannot get that Roman bitch to serve as our procuress, and we know it.

I want my son to see what these people are really like. In the end they are all of them common soldiers and whores, except for Delgardie and of course for Zabini himself, who chose that life. My son is soft on Muggles because of Delgardie's ridiculous affair with my cousin's brat. I don't doubt he thinks he prefers Delgardie and Saunders to me. They indulge him in every respect. If they had their way he would get to do as he liked all the time. But in the end, his lot is with his own kind. Dracaena shirked her responsibilities and left me alone here to run things, and run things I did. I was the one who kept things in order with the Blacks and the Rosiers and the DeVries and the Dashwoods and the Wilkes, while she ran around with her Italian thug and his gang, while she played at cloak and dagger for Kyteler. But those are not our people, and Lucius must learn to understand that, even if Delgardie does not: those are the people who work for us.

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8 août 1942 [21.12.05|00:14]
[Humeur actuelle | frustrated]

I really am a hair away from writing to Honoria Lady Delgardie and asking if she doesn’t need her son and Saunders at home. Just because Julian Delgardie is Lucius’ other guardian does not mean he has to live in my house. And Saunders most certainly does not have to live here. Doesn’t Kyteler have anything he needs Saunders to do? Preferably in some other country where I’m not? At least he’s out of Tintagel—and he took the whore with him.

Carmela Zabini answered my letter about Isabella. It only took her eight days and she is very clearly trying to discourage my interest in the girl, despite the fact that this is the only way she’s ever going to get her hands on any of the money Dracaena and her husband put away. It’s quite obvious she wants me to think the girl is some sort of behaviour problem. I wonder if she is; I’ll have to find out. Someone I know is bound to have heard something.

Hyacinthe and I had lunch at the cliffs today. I love her dearly, I do; but she is a wretched little tease sometimes and I don’t have the first idea what I am going to do with her. I don’t think she has any idea the effect she has on people sometimes. No wonder Moody wants her to be chaperoned all the time!

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4 août 1942 [07.12.05|00:43]
[Humeur actuelle | bitchy]

My son is avoiding me. I know something happened out there, and no-one will tell me what it was. My eleven-year-old son is the most evasive of all. "It was very horrible, Maman; but it could have been so much worse." Pray tell exactly what is that supposed to mean? Poppaea, who somehow managed to get herself shot by Lavinia Scalara, was trying to tell me at one point that Delgardie had murdered Dracaena, but now, of course, she can't remember any of what she saw. I am quite certain that someone has Obliviated her, and I cannot decide if it is more likely to have been her husband, Miss Weasley, or Septimus. While the general consensus seems to be that Dracaena has in fact actually died, which is a change from the things I was hearing even last week, I certainly do not think that Delgardie can possibly have killed her. He was, for better or worse, one of Dracaena's dearest friends.

Saunders is being a complete pill and has had the temerity to lecture me about my childrearing practises, despite the fact that the child comes and goes from this house almost exactly as he pleases these days and brought Alastor Moody up here last night without my permission or the permission of the Moodys.

I thought Delgardie and he were going to have fits when I told them that Magister Kyteler and Mrs Scalara had gone down to stay at Jadis and Will Goyle's house. As I told Delgardie, Jadis Goyle is as good a lay healer as you'll find in these parts; there is not a better place for that horrible woman outside of St Mungo's, if she is as ill as she seemed Sunday morning, and it cannot possibly be good for her to remain under my roof with Poppaea and Septimus here.

I want Hyacinthe.

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31 juillet 1942, matin [02.11.05|16:40]
[Humeur actuelle | grumpy]

Delgardie's commanding officer wanted to know if we could hold Lucius' vigil on some solar or lunar point instead of at our traditional festival, but of course he is a Christian, and a Protestant even, and he had to accept what Abraxas told him. I don't understand the local religion myself but if Jadis and Abraxas, who will be officiating, say it will never do, they would certainly know. Abraxas of course thinks he is up to handling anything and Goyle seems almost to want a fight. My eleven year old son is going to be a sacred King. As long as he isn't a sacrificial one.

Jadis is being extremely tiresome. I would almost be happy to give Magister Kyteler what he wants in order to show her she isn't the lady of this house, but I really do not understand what they are doing, and how embarrassing that is, but it isn't in books, and not only is it not in books, Jadis says it isn't supposed to be in books.

How can there be something that isn't supposed to be in books?

I don't think Magister Kyteler and Abraxas like one another much, even if they are Doing The Honourable Thing and working together pleasantly anyway. At least that Roman whore will not be here.

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24 juillet 1942, matin [26.10.05|23:51]
[Humeur actuelle | annoyed]

Impossible things to believe before breakfast... )
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