Watched Moulin Rouge today and this just popped into my head. Enjoy!
The Note
It was a wet, cold, March afternoon as the tall slender girl of sixteen walked home. With flame like hair, that seemed to warm her as she trudged, and soft chocolate brown eyes that shone with intelligence, she pondered the event of the New Year. 1900, what a year it would be! Her name was Fleur.
She was glad she'd worn her mauve gown today. Glistening with rain it shimmered like silver coins, probably as many as the dress had cost, and glided along the ground as if she were truly floating as indeed her thoughts were for she was still dwelling on the splendour of the past hour.
Fleur had been walking with her bohemian sweetheart, Christopher, who was a writer for a travelling theatre company, 'Le Magnifico!' They were one of the best in Paris and Fleur had seen them many times. Christopher was perfect and perhaps her ticket to stardom as an actress.
It started to rain even harder so she picked up her skirts and ran, her bare ankles shocking the passers-by. Whipping past a bank of ornamental trees, shrubs and roses she hoped she would soon see the beautiful gothic archway that led to her home.
Minutes later Fleur reached the gargantuan door that led to her Vicar father's town house in the 'Rose Jardin' courtyard. A strict man, who had sadly lost his wife, Mr Syracuse was often drunk. He had always squashed Fleur's dreams of being a starlet. Although she loved him she would always resent him for that.
She knocked at the door with her parasol, wincing as the exertion tightened her corset and made it difficult to breathe. The door creaked as Jane's face (her under maid) popped around the entrance and let her in.
She asked Jane for news of her father and when the plain servant said "No" she was glad. No news was definitely good news.
Striding across the room, she murmured "Hello" to her mother's portrait – a beautiful woman of only twenty-five years – and then collapsed into her favourite squashy red chair. She pulled out her most esteemed novel 'Pride and Prejudice', and began to read.
Her knees tucked beneath her, Fleur fell into the world of Elizabeth Bennett and Mr Darcy. As her hair curled – due to the rain – Fleur's heart fluttered. Would she ever get out of this house?
Light shone through the drawing room; setting alight the rich burgundy colour of the décor. The rain had come to a standstill at last. Perambulating to the French windows, Fleur noticed her father's watch upon the table. A solid gold watch, with scarlet rubies embedded in the strap; this handcrafted instrument had cost the Syracuse family a considerable amount. The glittering green hands pointing at the imprinted numbers told her that it was 5 o'clock and that her father should have been home hours ago. But then she wondered, "If the watch is here – then where is he?" Her father had never parted with the watch.
It was then, as the sunlight hit the writing desk, that she noticed it. A curled piece of parchment had been laid upon the desk in a disorientated way. On the topmost part she saw her name; Miss Fleur Syracuse. Why had it been opened if it was addressed to her? Today certainly held moments of mystery that she couldn't quite fathom.
Darkness fell upon the room causing the cerise and carmine furniture to transform into an ebony paradise. In the murky light Fleur almost toppled over as she tottered to the window to discover what the source of the shadows was. Just a grey and wispy cloud passing. Feeling extremely paranoid Fleur moved back to her chair. Then remembering the note she picked herself up and returned to the writing desk.
An idyllic idea popped into her head. What if the note was from Christopher, asking for her hand in marriage? No he would ask her father first. Now that it wasn't that, Fleur didn't want to read the letter. What if it was bad news? No she would sit down again and forget it.
Burying her head in 'Pride and Prejudice' again, she let her worries drift away as she digested the heart-warming tale. When she thought about it her life wasn't really that bad. All that would make it perfect would be her fantasies coming true, and, of course, getting a dog! Perhaps a beagle or a spaniel. But she must be sensible; her father would never buy her a dog.
BANG! A metal clanging sound rang through the air from another room. Gazing around the room Fleur's sight set itself upon the letter again. Sighing she decided to just read it. Rising, she set her book down and strode across the room to the writing desk.
Gingerly picking up the note Fleur began to read. "Dear Miss Syracuse, We are delighted to offer you a place in our theatre troupe, 'Le Magnifico!' Please …" Fleur dropped the letter in surprise. She hadn't envisioned this at all.
BANG! She spun round. Standing before her swaying, holding a whisky bottle in one hand and an absinthe in the other, her father shouted, "You thought you were getting away from here, did you?"
Thank You For Reading
ilovealexrider