The year was 1785 and I was eighteen. I moved back to New Orleans after being rejected to a University in Paris. The city was buzzing with a light I had never known. The people, the food and drink, the life of both night and day was incredible, even though the Revolution in New Orleans's home country, at that time, France, was growing rapidly. More riots had broken out but, it had seemed New Orleans was its own colony, flourishing more by the hour. Times had changed. Ties with France had been cut, and yet New Orleans still seemed very French, indeed. I loved New Orleans. I loved New Orleans more than most people thought.
I bought a beautiful house just outside the city. It was three stories and plenty big enough to satisfy my liking. Coved by oaks, weeping willows, and cypress trees of giant scales, it was my new muse. I was infatuated with it all, the city, the house, and a woman.
Jocelyn de Manon was her name. She was a striking beauty of eighteen with flowing, rippling hair, almost black; the brown sheen was so dark. It shown in the moonlight like silk of ravens wings. Her violet eyes could cut through stone or melt the hearts of men, She had a beautiful face, made angelic expressions, and had a curvaceous body that was strong, well-fit, and incredibly youthful.
Jocelyn and I had met at the governor's annual ball, both of us members of an "upper-class" society, or so they word it these days. From that time on, I grew to love many members of the aristocratic "family", especially those far more bold than I. Watching them in heated discussions, playing expensive instruments, or drinking delicious wines of France and Italy, all these things had slowly become amusing. It seemed as though for once, unlike most of my life, I belonged. I had always been, and still am, one of the people that sits in the very back corner of the subway or the child that sits in the back of the classroom, not saying a word.
There was Adrien Du Monte, late of Auvergne, France, that I began to take a particular liking to. With gleaming auburn hair and wide, forgiving born eyes, he stood in a slumped posture, constantly reading, the waves of his hair falling delicately over his face, falling into his eyes. Then there were the other nobles, whom I loved, as well. Such as Leon de Merrique, known as Leo to many of his friends, who had blond hair and gray-blue eyes and was quite close or taller than I was, and Nicolas de Lis, a man with brown hair and sorrowful eyes, so beautiful they could break your heart and want to know his story.
I began to spend more time around them, especially Adrien, Leo, and Nicolas. I'd spend nights out, watching the French operas in town, and days inside, playing the violin Leo gave me, reading books from Adrien, or painting on some of Nicki's old canvases.
The aristocratic way of life had begun to "grow" upon me, even though I was only eighteen. Now, you must remember, in those days, I was a man at that age. I was expected to provide for myself, to marry, and to start my living fortune. Well, that's exactly what I did.
I found a small job that paid a good amount of money, invested in banks and stocks, and when I was nineteen, I proposed to Jocelyn. She accepted and From then on, lived in my house, under my care. We were madly in loved and I tried to please her in every way I could. The marriage date was set for only a few weeks after my half birthday. Dates were set, decisions were made, guests were invited, and it seemed everything was going quite wonderfully. About four weeks, almost a month, before the wedding I began to notice things. Strange things.
If I get just a few more reviews, I'll updated again by about one o' clock or two o' clock in the afternoon. Still looking for title suggestions. Thanks!