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Post by Comtesse du Barry on Nov 24, 2008 17:02:13 GMT -5
Jeanne had been comfortably enjoying the Opera through her opera glasses - which, unlike the superficial tarts at court, she liked to think, she used to inspect the actors and actresses on stage who were most charming, in case she wanted to expand her coterie to include people whose lives were as colorful as her own - until intermission, when she readjusted the coat she had been using as a wrap to make herself as comfortable as possible and decided to take a jaunty little stroll before the Opera began again.
She had been alone in her box this evening - the shifting tide of the Revolution had left her somewhat out for the count, unfortunately, and she had never had a close coterie, anyway - and that was the reason she'd been able to snuggle up in her coat in a less-than-proper fashion. But it felt as empty as it no doubt looked to others who could see it, and she felt somewhat bruised at this lack. When gazing keenly on the performers, people looked that much more interesting, and she might as well not have been alone; but she did feel alone, and this was greatly uncomfortable for her, now that it was plain.
Furthermore, as she exited from her box someone stepped into her and continued on their way, and the titters she heard the well-dressed women utter suggested to Jeanne du Barry that they had done it on purpose to humiliate her, and she smirked rather deliberately to show that she was not effected.
She was effected, however, and stood for a moment disoriented, her chin held up proudly, but her eyes lost for a moment. She readjusted her coat yet again and tugged at the fingers of her gloves in a fidgety, although arrogant, manner, intending to head back into her box again before someone else interrupted her.
((tag Adrienne.))
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Post by Adrienne on Nov 24, 2008 17:11:01 GMT -5
*Adrienne had, like Jeanne, actually been enjoying the performance--she hated these affairs in society, but the opera was an exception she was willing to make. The grand auditorium, the soaring music, the performers... it was all fascinating to her. She could not sing herself, which could have accounted for some of it.* *And though she hated the see-and-be-seen policy, Adrienne loved showing off. So tonight she was dressed to the nines in a sleeveless, royal blue gown and pristine satin gloves; her hair was perfectly coiffed into a fashionable updo with becomingly escaping curls at the back. Her neck, back, delicate collarbone, and decolletage were all framed perfectly and she knew it.* *When she entered the fray, she created a stir. They always made a stir when she came in: whispers behind fans about her fortune and what son they wanted paired with her, whispers about what party she hadn't or had attended. She looked down a delicate nose at all of them, until she caught sight of the lavishly-dressed woman with the dark hair.* *Automatically Adrienne knew it was another woman like her: one they didn't like, one they excluded, and one who tried to show she didn't care. Also, her dress was divine. She approached, creating another titter when it became obvious who she meant to speak with. She tapped the woman on the shoulder with a be-gloved hand.* "Excuse me, but who made your dress? I haven't seen its equal in quite a while, and I see a lot of dresses." ((For the record, her dress is like this one, only royal blue with the white gloves. And awesomer hair.))
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Post by Comtesse du Barry on Nov 24, 2008 17:34:40 GMT -5
((It is a nice dress. And it is the same color as Jeanne's. *oho!* It is her favorite color. She is such a Cancer.))
Jeanne had just run her fingers over the back of her other hand in nervousness and decided to retreat to the relative safety of the loneliness of her box - better to feel out of place in there than to feel out of place amongst a crowd, and although Jeanne went against the grain, had it been her choice she would have fit in, although, admittedly, with people she was more interested in belonging with than this crowd - when she felt a tap on her shoulder.
The comment did not just please her, but strengthened her resolve not to retreat and wallow in feeling sorry for herself; and beyond that, she was quick to note the woman who said it, and deducted from her own dress that she was being complimented by someone with good taste. Beyond that, she was also wearing Jeanne's favorite color, and wearing it well, which earned her a number of points. Jeanne had been in a deprived environment before this point, and so once she had had wealth at her disposal, she had constructed a world that was fashioned more as she would like it to be. Dresses were often partially designed by Jeanne herself, and she had the tailor implement them accordingly.
"My dresses are all made by Prieto," she responded, her voice low and perhaps a little hoarse-sounding - in the properly coy tone, this was throaty, but in these situations it was simply a bit gravelly - or, as catty rivals at court had said, she sounded like a horse. "But this..." she smoothed the skirt, which was pieced together peculiarly. "Is my own design." She was suitably proud of herself, though it did not come into sounding haughty, for that was not a way that she usually felt - it was more the thank-you-for-noticing of a beaming child, albeit one who did not think she was that childish.
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Post by Adrienne on Nov 24, 2008 17:41:32 GMT -5
*Adrienne smiled. She always (and a little hypocritically) found it so tiresome when people were haughty, and this woman was not.* "I always prefer to design my own gowns. Everyday things I let my dressmaker take care of, but there's nothing more mortifying than a party where another woman has on practically the same dress, don't you think?"
*Adrienne extended a delicate, gloved hand, realizing it was utterly against code to introduce oneself to a stranger, but not minding in the least.* "Lady Adrienne d'Enjolras."
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Post by Comtesse du Barry on Nov 25, 2008 10:00:48 GMT -5
Jeanne was not displeased in the least. Her own etiquette knowledge was honed from years of minor mistakes and dirty looks received after them, and therefore it gave her a great deal of pleasure to share the process of rule-breaking with someone else. If someone had encouraged her own, it would have been a great deal more pleasant.
"Comtesse Jeanne du Barry," she responded, having a certain admiration for her already - particularly as she recognized that she was not flaunting a husband's name. Jeanne herself did not particularly flaunt her own. When she spoke, it was to show off her reputation, but not her social climbing - after all, everyone knew Jeanne's relation with the Comte was not what made her famous, or infamous, as the case may be. Her grip was firm but not brusque. "And too mortifying, I find. Although in my case, it is the other woman who complains most to her friends." Her smile was both genuine and a dare to be shocked - although she did hope Lady d'Enjolras would meet the challenge well.
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Post by Adrienne on Nov 25, 2008 12:14:33 GMT -5
*Adrienne had just ceased to think about etiquette much. It wasn't in the least useful if you curtseyed to a potential employer--they were looking for a firm handshake, a woman who wasn't going to quail at the thought of disciplining rowdy first-years, chattering fourth-years, or seventh-years caught doing things they oughtn't in the broom closets. Though she could, of course, execute a devastatingly graceful curtsey when called upon.*
"Washed-out and over-corseted debutantes can hardly hope to compete." *Adrienne responded, smiling, though whether she was referring to herself or Jeanne it was unclear. Pale, plump debutantes soon learned not to wear bolder colors--either they were called a tart, or looked so sickly that everyone was convinced they had consumption. Adrienne, though pale, was of a good complexion and build, and subsequently didn't look like a slug in satin.*
"Are you enjoying the performance?"
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Post by Comtesse du Barry on Nov 25, 2008 12:30:04 GMT -5
Jeanne had a very fair skin, but she had never thought of herself as pallid, for she usually had a good swipe of pink here or there to give herself the picture of perfect health, and even then, paint was not always needed for it. She was healthy. One thing joining the aristocracy had taught her was that they were in terrible need of new blood, and the lower classes were less particularly about breeding and so tended to be better off in those regards, anyway.
"Immeasurably," said Jeanne in response, smiling still from what Adrienne had said previously; Jeanne had seen enough of that in her day, to be sure. "Which is to say that my enjoyment of the opera is not something I think of in terms of numbers. I find music very moving." And this was so. Jeanne thought for a moment, pensively, on her own lack of musical training, and wondered if it wasn't a certain wistfulness that kept her coming here. That was one thing breeding got you. Jeanne had had to learn how to dance and move all on her own, and was far behind all other ladies in those realms. And while Jeanne did not at all care for the concept of embroidery, and did not miss not having learned it, she would have liked to have been musically trained.
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Post by Adrienne on Nov 25, 2008 12:34:56 GMT -5
*Adrienne laughed.* "I do enjoy the music, but that's probably because I can't sing myself. I mean, I had a tutor for one afternoon when I was eight, before he went storming out, screaming that my voice came from the bowels of hell itself. " *She said cheerfully.* "I took up piano after that."
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Post by Comtesse du Barry on Nov 25, 2008 14:39:45 GMT -5
The comment made Jeanne smile genuinely. She felt more at ease with Adrienne after it. The warm level of disclosure she took with the countess was something of a comfort, particularly as Jeanne did not do well with false-sounding small talk. She was always quick to see double meanings in conversation, and whenever conversation was a bit more honest she was well aware of it.
Besides that, it was a comfort to know that even someone who had had a privileged youth did not have all the things Jeanne fancied herself deprived of. Perhaps no tutors could have altered Jeanne's own voice. She would never know, and still felt a slight pang of envy to hear she played piano-forte, but the woman was not flaunting her good qualities, only her good taste. It was doubtless persona - what wasn't? - but it was one she could find amiable. "It's gracious of you to admit," said Jeanne, honestly, and still smiling; "it's society's shameful secret that so many of the young debutantes who give recitals never had such honest tutors."
And Jeanne had attended a number of recitals given by girls of less-than-perfect talent who flaunted their training if not their skill. What a horror those were.
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Post by Adrienne on Nov 26, 2008 2:05:36 GMT -5
"My brother was always the one I made put in an appearance at such events." *She said brightly. One could only endure so much, and though Nicki was remotely talented (unlike herself) and therefore was bothered more by hackneyed renditions of popular tunes, she could make him do what she wanted simply with a Look.*
"No matter how many Italian masters have trained a girl, and no matter how blue her blood is... it seems her voice can grow no better. In fact I wonder that society women find it necessary to sing at all, though of course they won't let in the opera divas no matter how successful."
*She herself wasn't of actual blue blood. If her father had married some debutante, doubtless she'd have been another pale, meek creature who was called 'accomplished' because nobody wanted to mention what she looked like. As it was, her father had married a prostitute, borne two children, and then they had divorced, producing the strong Adrienne and the unique Nicki.*
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Post by Comtesse du Barry on Nov 26, 2008 13:24:36 GMT -5
This was all very true and very delightful to hear spoken out loud by a woman of her class. The number of tutors Jeanne had seen trotted in and then out of a lady's parlor could reach the point of obscene, and certainly they never seemed to do anything. Jeanne was more acutely sensitive to humiliation to bear teaching herself, but she had thought of it before, vaguely hoping that some grace could be lent her voice, which sounded too harsh to be sweet at most times. But there was enough truth in this to make her feel better.
And the opera divas...
"Well..." Jeanne ventured, airily, as though speaking a bit more innocently than she was, although when pointing out the hypocrisy of high society - which she was only too aware of, being a big part of it herself - one was never exactly innocent, "I'm sure society has a great deal to do with the success of our grand opera divas." The flash in her eyes was the only thing - aside from the obvious double-meanings in the phrase - that gave it away. But it was common knowledge that society men - and a few women - had certain performers they took a strong liking to, and that was how celebrities were born on the Paris stage. The only reason society shunned actors and singers and dancers was because society made certain they were of low moral character, or at least fit the proper definition of it. "It's one of the tragedies of the stage. Or the triumphs, depending."
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Post by Adrienne on Nov 26, 2008 17:15:15 GMT -5
*Adrienne thought for a moment.* "My mother was a chorus girl... among other things. It seems to be one of the traditions of society that young men take a performer as a mistress, though most of them aren't stupid enough to get her pregnant and then marry her." *She chuckled.* "It seems I haven't inherited her looks or her voice."
*It was out, she had said it. She made it a habit, upon making new acquaintances, to inform them bluntly of her mother's social position. It had ruined many a promising relationship, but it was also a test. Should someone immediately cease communication with her upon discovering, she didn't really want their friendship in the first place, and if that someone didn't care, it was someone she could trust.*
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Post by Comtesse du Barry on Nov 26, 2008 17:23:17 GMT -5
Jeanne felt incredibly honored - which was not usual for her, as she usually associated those sorts of things with servility or stupidity, traits which she did not consider herself abundant in - that Lady d'Enjolras would state this so plainly to her. She did not think it could be something said on accident, but she could not imagine why anyone would state that fact deliberately, and certainly not to someone with Jeanne's reputation.
Her smile was a bit warmer and more genuine this time around, not that it had been overtly false before, but that her smile was usually her glass wall between herself and the rest of the world. That was a story that spoke to her, certainly. She herself was the illegitimate daughter of a seamstress.
"But it is such a blessing to have married parents," said Jeanne, voice soft, almost rather vulnerable. To her, it sounded muffled, although she couldn't understand why her own voice would sound distant to her. "Surely it would have given such strength..."
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Post by Adrienne on Nov 26, 2008 17:31:32 GMT -5
"They were married because of the pregnancy and divorced before I was five years old." *Adrienne laughed.* "It hardly qualifies as married."
*Inside, she was immensely pleased that Jeanne had not minded. In fact she'd seemed to respond to it... understandable, given her reputation and occupation.*
"What strength I have I got from their divorce, not in spite of it. If one were raised in a perfect world... well, one would be incredibly boring."
*The lights flickered, warning the spectators to return to their seats.* "Are you here alone?"
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Post by Comtesse du Barry on Nov 27, 2008 16:21:33 GMT -5
Oh, divorce. Jeanne could not imagine that was very pleasant - and probably had been very scandalous, particularly as in the society Jeanne came out of, only a man was allowed to divorce a woman, and a nobleman who had married a prostitute in the first place...well, Adrienne seemed well off despite all that. Jeanne wondered what her relations to her parents were. Jeanne's father had been nonexistent. She had been raised by whatever lover her mother was most dependent on at the time, which had always been shifting. And she had not necessarily admired her mother, who could have been a courtesan but instead had simply been a woman of low stature, but she had loved her. Still, she was a good example of the fact that one could live in an imperfect world and still be boring. But imperfections were at least a smart. Jeanne barely suppressed a smile.
"Yes," said Jeanne, glancing back at her box, pursing her lips. She no longer wanted to be, though; speaking with Adrienne made her more acutely aware of her seclusion in this place, and it made her feel a slight pang for the things she'd never have - the coterie of mindless females the Austrichienne swanned around Versailles with. It wasn't admirable, but the thought of going riding and then picnicking with companions who weren't secretly plotting to steal your lover or disgrace you sounded like such a relief and a joy. "Though it's not for lack of trying. Sadly, the ushers don't allow in monkeys."
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