Part 1.1

Nestled between Tours and Paris sat hills peppered with chateau and estates of the wealthy. A retreat from the fast pace of Paris for many, but the permanent residence of Zoé Roussel and her father. A fire, started by a careless servant, had sent them out into the night one winter, shivering, mourning, and taking stock of what they had loss. Relocating to the gentle hills and plains south of Paris, they had purchased a new house, and Zoé's father was able to continue his business without the constant reminder of the events that occurred that winter night. At twenty-seven, the duties of a daughter to marry and bring honor to her family had been put aside to preserve the estate of her father and ensure his survival in her absence. Blending into the nobility and the affluent that they once freely partook, Zoé's activities limited her abilities to socialize, and all but a few of her friends had been lost to either neglect or a marriage that took them far away. She did not let her mind stray to the loss, there was too much of the present to take up her thoughts and energy. There was a business to run and her father's estate to take care of, friends and marriage would have to wait.

The moment the carriage came to a stop on that gravel road, the door was open and Zoé stepped out, murmuring a small thanks to the coachman, who held her hand as she gathered her skirt up to step down. Once Nadine stepped out, the coach was led away to the barn, where their things would be removed and taken into the house. By the standards of her neighbors, the chateau they lived in was small and quaint. It had two stories and was crescent shaped. In the center, right behind the main entrance there was a foyer and small ballroom off of the dining room on the first floor. The west side of the house, in one wing, was the kitchen and behind it a few yards the stables, and on the east side of the house was a drawing room and reception room which overlooked the gardens and lake that rested a hundred yards behind the house. The second story above the kitchen was the servants quarters, the middle section housed Zoé and her father's room, and the east wing held the guest rooms. Quaint, was what her friends had said when they visited the spring after they moved into the house, and now they never visited. Country life was too quiet, too secluded for their tastes, or the tastes of their friends, but to Zoé it was a breath of fresh air. Gravel would crutch under her soft and worn leather boots, that pale green skirt barely skimming the surface as she crossed the yard and entered the house. Immediately there was a call from the servants, but Zoé shook off their attentions, her travel gloves coming off and were clutched in her hand as she ascended the staircase to the second floor. A greeting fell from Hugo, her father's servant who came with them from Paris, and Zoé would smile, kissing his cheek before moving. She headed straight to her father's room, knocking gently before entering the receiving room, light pouring in from the sun, still sinking in the west.

XxXxXx

"While you were away Mademoiselle, Monsieur d'Allemagne called on you. I told him you were on business in Paris and he was very distraught. He shall try to call on you again," Hugo announced and Zoé entered the drawing room, intending to catch up on finances before dinner was served. Nadine would enter, having unpacked their things, and gave Hugo a small smile and a kiss. The peace of the reunion did not seem to put Zoé at ease, and she started to tug at her tight bun. Long black hair coursed down her shoulders, and she ran her long thin fingers through them, tugging out the knots as she sat down at her desk, papers neatly organized in her absence. Hugo would come, lighting a candle on the desk, "Should I send him a letter notifying him of your return?"

"No. If Monsieur d'Allemagne intends to return sometime in the future, then I do not think it would be redundant of me to inform him..." and imprudent since I will be avoiding him...

"Come now Zoé, the boy has been insistent for months. He is pleasant and his family has known yours for generations," Nadine chided. "He comes doting on you and you return his kindness by aloofness and absence."

"That is because I have experience with this man, and worse I have heard the stories of his antics in Paris."

"Your father would want you to give time equally between his estate and your own happiness. I have not told him of your actions and avoidance of suitors, but..."

"Hugo, please. Once the debts are paid off and the business set, then I will think of myself. I cannot pursue happiness if I worry about my father," she replied, starting to go the stack of letters, banks, business partners, suitors, and a number from Monsieur d'Allemagne. She sighed, sorting them out and starting through the bank notes.

"The two problems can be solved with one action..." Nadine offered.

"No. I have told you numerous times, as well as my father, just because we have fallen on hard times does not mean I will marry for money. Happiness is not necessarily found with money, nor does money produce happiness. Please, leave me to my work and call me for supper. Hugo, one of the mares may have been limping, please speak to Maxime about that. And Nadine, ensure that Violette uses whatever is near expired for dinner. I would rather not have anything go to waste." The old couple would sigh and retreat, leaving her to her work.

Zoé raced through the letters, loans coming up had already been paid, the reason for her trip to Paris in the first place. Then came the letters from family friends, personal loans and favors needing to be repaid, the sums soon totaled and placed to the side, each individual loan ranked from the greatest need to the least. The time spent was not nearly enough, and Zoé stared at the pile of letters, some inscribed with crisp and elegant script, others a boyish scribble. She knew what they would entail; invitations to dinners, picnics, dances, carriage rides, walks, plays, operas, every social event conceivable could be reason for the wealthy sons of Paris, Orléans and Tours to call her from her home. Flashy dresses, extravagant events that sang of the wealth and nobility of the family, tangible displays of their influence that Zoé had come to distaste. Of course in her younger years, introduced to the public and the company of her parents to social events, she moved through the circles of the rich and powerful, dancing with the sons and admiring their splendor with want and awe. Something changed when she watched all that wealth burn in front of her, the fire heating her face as her fingers and toes froze in the frigid January snow, the cold wind sending a chill through her spine although the flames seemed to be sprouting from the hottest part of hell. No, she didn't want to meet the eligible men, she didn't want to flaunt her status because it had fallen with those flames. She was a meager individual, and although the suitors would help her station, they could not make her want the things they wanted, more power and wealth.

Then there was the pile of letters, four in all, one for every week she had been gone, and one from Luc's recent visit. The boy who had been fawning over her since her first entrance into the circles of Paris. Fawning may have been too innocent of a word. Luc was a confident man, strong mind, sharp wit and impressive specimen of what the families of France wished for their sons to be. Eyes, crisp dark blue and cool like the lake behind her house, that could pierce the hearts and souls of any who laid eyes on him, and Zoé had watched her friends fall weakly and flutter like children under his gaze. A confrontation could be won with a creasing of that brow, as she had seen many times, and his charm could defuse the tension if the look did not will his subject to submission. That's what Luc vied for, but Zoé had met every look of his with her own warm green eyes, ever confident and enduring. His wit and banter met with her own, never a blush as her other companions normally did, unable to talk in his presence. That brow would furrow in frustration, his widow's peak even more present, that sandy blonde hair with it's dark roots giving him a younger look, but he was three years her senior. Every woman he encountered had her heart melted and tamed within moments, but for Luc, his match had not yielded more than an inch in over ten years. That's why, Zoé felt, he called on her, vied for her, begged her to accompany him with those crisp blue eyes, because she was the one game he could not subdue.

"Must be the stubborn English in him," she muttered under her breath as she pushed those letters to the side. Again her hand ran from her scalp to the tips of her hair, letting them fall back against her shoulder blades. No, she wouldn't think on suitors today. Braiding her hair back and tying it with a cord she stood and walked out of the east door, into the gardens surrounding the back of the house.

Now I know why I always got frustrated at Fanfiction... hate not having an indent button to use. Qué lastima. I'll make due, hope all of you can as well. Part 1 is long, the first part is the intro/prologue, and now we're getting into the meat of it. Yes, no Phantom. Sorry people, but calm down. It's going to be a long ride and he'll get here eventually. Enjoy

-Celene