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Post by Andrew on Nov 19, 2008 3:34:21 GMT -5
*Andrew had tried to be kind, given the circumstances, Scarlett's shock, and the fact that she was a lady and his wife by law. But his anger surged at the abuse she flung at his friend, and even as his voice remained calm and low, his eyes sparked fire.*
"A shopgirl, maybe--but she is intelligent, well-read, and a Parisian! You would do well to recall that you are a stranger to my country and my culture, and the daughter of a farmer!"
*His words cut perhaps more than he had intended, but his anger would not permit him to cease.*
"For all your own wealth and privilege in your own country, with your own people, it has not barred you from becoming as ignorant and ill-mannered as your education would allow! I am only doing as countless men before me have done, and none have censured them as you are prepared to censure me! If you had properly prepared yourself for this kind of arranged match, you would have expected this, and you would know to think nothing of it. In short, madame, it is none of your business.
"When my parents are dead, you shall be Lady Blakeney and a leader of society in Paris and London, to say nothing of other places abroad. As you expect to retain your place in this society and as my wife, you will hold your tongue and keep your peace."
*Stepping back, his voice rose back to its normal level as opposed to the slight whispering tone he had adopted in his exposition, and performed another gentlemanly bow.*
"Welcome to Paris, madame."
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Post by Scarlett O'Hara on Nov 19, 2008 12:57:45 GMT -5
Scarlett's eyes widened impossibly in the simple shock of what Andrew was saying to her. She didn't deserve it, her anger and affront were natural even if the forum was inappropriate--but Andrew had forced the confrontation by taking his mistress here. She flashed back to what Donavan had said about him wanting something else. She refused to believe it. She'd been educating herself since she'd married him, and he'd never noticed; offering her opinions on things he'd waved away, copiously attempting to read and understand the newspapers he left lying about.
"If I had known this was the sort of barbaric society where the sanctity of marriage is not honored--had I known I was entering into an 'arranged' match--I never should have become a party to it!" she cried. Under other circumstances, she might have been well pleased with a loveless marriage rich in wealth and society, but that was not what she had expected; she had, in her mind, married Ashley, not Frank. This scene, and Andrew's words to her, were a blow as hard as the one that had driven her to marry that foolish Charles Hamilton.
In short she was 17 and thought she was in love, and was completely unprepared for the demands Paris seemed to be making on her.
"I'll leave you to your traditions," she said, trying to maintain herself until she could leave, "but this is not over, Monsieur." She glanced over him and Mlle. Lambert haughtily before sweeping out of the box. She couldn't help pulling the door a bit hard, but afterwards she leaned against it and let the mask slip a little.
"I hate Paris," she sighed angrily.
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Post by Valmont on Nov 19, 2008 14:28:16 GMT -5
"But there's no reason Paris has to hate you."
The girl looked up, for a moment astonished but, Valmont was glad to see, quickly hiding both her surprise and her incipient tears. He'd moved this way from his own box, confident that some sort of explosion would occur, and all too happy to impose himself where he was least wanted and could do the most damage.
The lady's eyes narrowed. "Why you low-down, common eavesdropper!" she exclaimed in accented French with unexpected facility.
"I am nothing of the kind, Madame," Valmont said smoothly. "The Vicomte de Valmont at your service." She had not heard of him, that was plain, and just as well.
"I don't care," she said. "You're no kind of gentleman, to accost me so."
Valmont smiled leisurely, unmoved by her assessment. "Madame Blakeney, you will know when I have accosted you. I was merely attempting to soothe your feelings, as a public service. I noted your distress and could not help but wish to console you. It is no easy matter, for a young--and dare I say it, attractive--wife to learn so publicly of her husband's infidelity. I am afraid it happens far more often than a member of Parisian society would like to admit. The reasons very rarely have anything to do with the neglected spouse, and everything to do with the unfaithful one."
The woman's eyes had begun to glaze slightly and she snapped back to attention when he stopped--and back to distrusting him. "How dare you speak about matters you know nothing about," she snapped. She was a fighter, this one, and Valmont admired that--even if he realized the utter idiocy of her conviction that a match with Andrew Blakeney had been anything but convenience on his side. She was untried, he realized, and desperate. There were dozens in her position at any given time in any given social situation in Paris, but most of them were easy targets and would live out their days content with the position they'd attained and the attentions of ever-younger men on the side. This one, he thought, might become something different. And rather more entertaining.
"Forgive me, Madame." He sketched a slight bow. "Will you watch the opera, then?"
"With you?"
"Of course, Madame. I have a box of my own, of course."
Her green eyes narrowed again, and he thought how unbecoming it was aesthetically even as it heightened her interest by exposing her character.
"Of course you do, and I suppose I'm not the first to be invited into it," she said. "I'm not going to compound my reputation by switching my husband's box for yours, Monsieur, after such a scene."
"The choice is yours, of course," Valmont said. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madame Blakeney. I hope to meet you again, under conditions more favorable to your impression of me."
"I shall never have a favorable impression of you, sir, and I certainly have no intention of speaking to you again." Her nose rose into the air and she made to sweep past him and down the stairs.
"Oh, but you will," he called after her softly, smiling to himself as he made his way back to his own box and waited to catch Valerie's eye so he might wink at her.
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Post by Valerie on Nov 19, 2008 15:11:55 GMT -5
*Catch her eye he did, enough so she was quite able to discern Scarlett's exit and what had directly preceded it. She fought the urge to roll her eyes, and found herself quite able to return the wink, when it came, with a droll and deadpan countenance.*
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Post by Valmont on Nov 19, 2008 15:32:02 GMT -5
This, Valmont thought to himself, was shaping up very nicely. He greatly looked forward to the entertainment these three would provide. Paris had been unusually fruitful, of late. The Opera in particular.
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Post by Valerie on Nov 19, 2008 17:14:48 GMT -5
*Valerie sat with Andrew again, ostensibly to watch the opera; but her friend was pale and withdrawn, shocked and disturbed by the encounter, and the measures it had forced him to take in speaking so ungraciously to any lady, much less his own wife.*
"...it will be alright, Andrew," *she said softly, trying to re-assure him.*
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Post by Andrew on Nov 19, 2008 17:15:36 GMT -5
*He smiled weakly.*
"Of course. You have stood by me as no one else could have. Thank you."
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Post by Valerie on Nov 19, 2008 17:16:27 GMT -5
"Thank me, then," *she said with an impish grin. Leaning closer, she added--*
"There are several eyes upon us..."
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Post by Andrew on Nov 19, 2008 17:17:48 GMT -5
*Andrew had to smile at hers, and so took the hint, drawing nearer to place a lingering and playful kiss upon her lips, half-hidden in the shadows of their box as the curtain rose upon the stage.*
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Post by Scarlett O'Hara on Jan 27, 2009 14:05:23 GMT -5
**NEW NIGHT**
If Scarlett was a glutton for punishment, it was layered over by other ambitions that allowed her to ignore it. She was at the Opera because it was where Anyone Who Was Anyone was seen. And she was not content to fade into the background, Blakeney's folly of a few short months. Scarlett knew all about being known and admired and she planned on being so here. It was not Clayton Country, nor was it even Atlanta. But she saw no reason she could not make her mark here, too.
((tag: Mercutio))
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Post by Mercutio on Jan 27, 2009 21:08:16 GMT -5
Mercutio hadn't been working at the opera house for even a week, which meant all the newbie jobs got shoved off on him. Now, for example, he was replacing one of the drink waiters for the boxes who had, ironically, showed up too drunk to serve. A spare uniform had been found, so he looked like a right fool, and even now he was loping up and down the corridor behind the boxes, occasionally sticking his head into a box to see whether he was needed. Most often the answer was no. Apparently some of the opera-going class had a problem with his manners.
But hey, he'd been hired for a stagehand, not for the ability to remember drink orders and simper at those dressed more outrageously than he was.
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Post by Scarlett O'Hara on Jan 28, 2009 10:51:55 GMT -5
Scarlett, for her part, was dressed rather tastefully in shades of green that perfectly complemented her coloring. She was trying to find that line between respectable and vivacious, and, for the most part, succeeding.
She wasn't thinking about that right now, however. Nor did she notice the waiter poking his head in. She was gazing across the way at the Blakeney box, a pout on her lips.
"Oh!" she said, involuntarily. "That... that scoundrel!"
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Post by Mercutio on Jan 28, 2009 16:34:01 GMT -5
Mercutio, lips parted and breath caught in his throat in preparation to speak, shut his mouth long enough to follow the lovely lady's gaze or, at least, the direction her head was turned, which was not towards the stage. He narrowed his eyes, recognizing the sleek blonde head across the way. Ohh, the irony. But of couse a nob like Andrew would be absolutely enamored of the opera, something Mercutio hadn't considered. Perhaps, with this cover of waiter, Mercutio could harass him and his company...?
"If you like to keep your mouth clean," he commented with a vague sneer, before waving his empty drink tray in front of Scarlett to suggest that it could, if needed, be full. "You want anything?"
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Post by Scarlett O'Hara on Jan 28, 2009 17:48:34 GMT -5
Scarlett whirled around, surprised and affronted. Why, the nerve of the man! A mere waiter.
"No thank you," she said primly. "I was just going."
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Post by Mercutio on Jan 28, 2009 17:55:58 GMT -5
Mercutio's brows rose. "Ohhh? Did he upset you that much?" This was very thought-provoking. Not that Mercutio was in the habit of defending anyone's honor, but surely if he ever found the opportunity to take a swing at Andrew he could say he was doing it for the well-being of beautiful snobs everywhere. That is, if 'accidentally' letting his tray slip didn't work instead. Not that he was bitter or anything. God, no.
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