|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 17, 2012 3:20 pm
season early winter, a few days later occasion week-end location a park in palisade
It was rare to find many people lounging in the park at this time of year, at least so early. The world was not chill enough yet to freeze the lakes over and so the ice skaters had not yet arrived. The fair-weather folk who strolled in the sunshine had often moved their excursions inside for the season. Every so often one might see a courting couple wandering the paths if the woman were of winter birth, but most who bustled about at this time were workers or those especially daring folks with nothing better to do.
The near-emptiness of the place was what drew Chloe here. Her usual spot was crowded on one side by revelers, so she had simply scurried on until finding a more comfortable area. Her hands had been mittened and her hair coiled up beneath a simple bonnet meant to keep her at least marginally more warm. Her dress was layered in a thoughtless fashion, the dissimilar skirts hidden beneath her frock, and her stockings kept her legs from the brunt of the chill. When the children were huddled by the fire, she was able to gather more to protect herself from the wind.
Since leaving, though, the girl had tugged off her mittens and tossed them aside for the fact that they made turning pages so difficult. Chloe sat a ways off from the entrance, facing the commonly-traveled path lest anyone with less than pure intentions approach, but was mostly lost in the novel she was perusing. It was a volume long out-of-date that had not sold well to the public, as scandalous as it had seemed. Some of the pages were glued back in strangely and the corners were worn and dog-eared, but Chloe wasn't picky. She was lost in the romance of it all even through the sometimes awkward phrasing and ink splotches scattered throughout its pages. Every so often the girl would close her eyes and go still, imagining herself in the position of the female lead, or a fly on the wall. In her mind, there was good china and gold-gilded fireplaces, warm conversation and a sense of mystery about this life. Of course, in reality most of the situations would have made her rather uncomfortable, but in the safe realm of her mind all was possible.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 17, 2012 4:11 pm
"It would serve us all well if you remembered that I left home in a hurry." Frustration welled up within him, and Andrus gritted his teeth to stop himself from some unsightly display of anger. They were in public, after all, and there was no telling who might be watching from down the street. The nature of his position meant that every outing came with a sort of precarious danger, a risk of being seen when he least wanted to be.
Then again, the rumors would arise anyway if he was late to this brunch with the Duke of Arden. The duke's family had had an odd sort of rivalry with the Regents for several generations, one that was more passive aggressive than anything else, but now that the duke was in town, something had to be done to show him that Andrus did not stand for the same mistakes as his grandfather had. The brunch had been a way to show amiability, but their relationship was tenuous at best, and being late... well.
"Sir, I assure you, we are working with all speed," the carriage driver replied with a small bow. "But the spokes on these wheels must be fixed before we can proceed. It would be dangerous to do otherwise, m'lord."
"Yes, I am well aware, Jacques," Andrus replied, still through gritted teeth. The inconvenience of it all... and the worst part lay in feeling so hapless. What could he do about a wheel? He wasn't a smith of any sort. "Work faster, then," he added abruptly, shoving the door of the carriage open. "Fetch me when you are finished."
It was just his luck, perhaps, that the carriage had came to a stop just outside of a park. Andrus pulled his coat close and buttoned it as he took the steps down to the road and strode into the park, feeling calmer already just by virtue of being able to move about. The bustle of people, though, he supposed could have been improved. Still, there wasn't much to be done about it. It was a public space, and they had every right to be there, just as he did - and it wasn't as though he despised the lower class. It was nothing but the mere fact of the crowded nature of the place. He would have felt just the same, he gathered, if it had been full of noblemen.
He came to a stop in the shade of a tree planted not far from the entrance. From there, he could see the progress of carriage, as well as more of the park and its visitors. There was the older woman, hobbling through with a basket covered by a small cloth. A child running after a ball. A girl sitting on a bench with a book.
There, his gaze stopped. He had seen that red hair before, bright against the otherwise dull green of the park. The book looked like an old one, unkempt and worn, though Andrus couldn't quite make out its title. And there she sat, engrossed in the book as would not have been expected of her or any other young woman in society. He thought back to the other day he had seen her, almost in the same spot now that he thought about it, herding the children along the busy street and looking for all intents and purposes as if that was her job. And here she was again, reading.
A pensive look crossed his face as he studied her, curious, watching her flip a page with an unmittened hand, and then another.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 17, 2012 5:49 pm
Voices outside the gates were of no concern to her, regardless of how impossible it was to pick just one from the rabble. In Chloe's world, all that existed were herself and her book, and even that was questionable. One may be able to argue that Palisade did not even exist, perhaps not even all of Sunderland. Certainly there were lakes and parks and cities and cliffs, but the cast of characters existed somewhere else entirely that needn't be concerned with sweeping and dusting and other such trivial matters. This was a world of romance, a world untouched by hunger or thirst or the greed of men.
Her fingers going mottled and numb, Chloe paused in her reading and closed her eyes to bring life to the words she had read. The lines were spoken with passion and an unbridled fervor by people built of descriptions hidden in context clues of a forgotten novel. There was a street, much like the Kingsroad but so very far away, and a young man traveling further still from home, tortured by thoughts of a woman, a spirit, a wandering uncle. She was not a player in the story, not this time, but instead viewed it for varying points like some omnipotent spirit or the audience to some sort of strange moving picture. She relaxed with a sigh, letting her eyes fall open once again. There was something different this time, though.
Where the people milling about were merely shadows of nothing, someone stood very still and very starkly against the unconcerned hubbub of the city. He stood, a stranger but oddly familiar, dressed in a noble way and... watching. Certainly it was only her imagination that told her he was staring, seeming to think, but no. She watched a moment more and he still did not move. Chloe drew her eyes away, looking off at the ground at her right and yet seeing none of it. The image was burned into her mind, a thousand blurs and voices swarming around her and one solitary figure, solid, opaque, something more meaningful writ across his brow. She dare not look again, although whether she was bothered more by the notion of him still being there or that of him being a figment was up in the air. She took a deep breath, her eyes flickering across the ground as she thought. Why had he seemed so familiar, so intent? What was it about him?
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 17, 2012 6:18 pm
He almost wanted to know what she was thinking, sitting there with her eyes closed and looking for all the world as if she was in the most beautiful place, as if she was no longer in this crowded park in her head. It must have been the book, must have been something about its story that had transported her far away. If Andrus had recognized the cover, perhaps he might have returned home and pulled it from the vast and ancient library that filled one of the largest rooms in the manor.
He might even have read it before, and might have been able to tell himself that this was the enchanting part or that. He might have read it over again, just to see what it meant or if it could mean anything more than simple words on paper.
But he didn't know what it was, and was still pondering that very question when he saw her eyes open, and... a gaze? He held her eye contact for as long as she did, and watched even after she turned away to stare at the ground. What color eyes? Andrus wasn't sure of that either, but dark, he thought, and deep. They stood out somehow against the freckles that splashed across her face.
Curious one, wasn't she? He'd never known a woman to act quite as she did. He had seen women look away, yes, but only so they could look back with a coy smile and bat her eyes at him. Hide behind a fan, maybe, but only so they could peer back over the top and pretend their giggles were real. That was the world he lived in, and to what end? Some nights, he wondered what they thought would happen if they succeeded in charming him enough to merit a proposal. Did they think it would be a happy ending, like the ones they read about in books and fairy tales, with a gallant prince and love ever after? Or did they realize it would be for money or for a title or for a family name and nothing more?
"My lord, is your coat sufficient?"
"Yes, Jacques, I am quite alright," Andrus replied, pulling his gaze away from the girl to face the coachmaster. There was something important to be asked, but he couldn't quite remember. Instead, he said, "Tell me, what sort of people frequent this park?"
"This park, my lord? Why... civilians, sir. Just common folk."
"Ah. Well," he nodded.
"My lord? The carriage is ready."
Andrus blinked. "Oh. Yes, the carriage. Must not keep the Duke waiting. Come, Jacques, we'd best be off." He uncrossed his arms and strode toward the gate, climbing into the carriage. There were things to be done, after all, appointments to be kept and people to see. It was his business and it was time he attended to it, forgetting this and forgetting her in favor of the real world.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 17, 2012 7:18 pm
It took some time for Chloe to reason out a proper reaction. She had been so lost in her novel that she had forgotten the reality of things and not been able to realize why the man had been staring. She was a humble little peasant girl in worn clothes, sitting in the cold and portraying a sort of intelligence that was not becoming of a young lady. Of course, reading didn't really take that much outright intelligence, but she had always known that women didn't quite sit out and enjoy a book as often as she liked to. He had been staring because she was a target of interested disgust, perhaps the saddest little being out in the park. Her brow set deeply and she frowned, heaving a breath.
With her fantasy world shattered, the desire to continue reading was gone. Indeed, her whole afternoon had turned a bit sour at this little-- no, no. She would never allow some insignificant event ruin her day, let alone a good book. She'd simply go back to the orphanage and try to avoid the children long enough to get a little reading in, or maybe tarry in the alleyway a while. It didn't matter where she as, if she was alone she would be able to immerse herself again.
Her nerves suddenly flared and Chloe allowed herself one last look at the mysterious man. He was speaking to another, perhaps a servant or a chauffeur. Certainly he could afford both, with an outfit like that. All she needed was a moment's glance before clutching her book to her chest and spiriting away deeper into the park. As she jogged her imagination came back to her, playing a romantic little game with her own disappointing experience. The man was not staring out of morbid curiosity, but something else entirely, and she was not a poor redhead but a stunningly beautiful lady in a beam, of spring light. Once more, though, Chloe was not a player but simply an audience to a story that she could get lost in.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|