April 10, 1912; 9:00 - 11:37 pm
The demands of wealth were sometimes too tiring. The need to present and show off to maintain a reputation was dancing in a precipice to nothingness. It was a cycle always there. Narcisse knew he was proficient with this game.
He was getting bored though. He never thought he would get tired of how he needed to spend a good money just to let people know that he had found his newest bride to be, while building his name outside France. He found himself forcing to be impressed of Titanic when it docked. (It was big. Too big.) He knew the importance of sacrifice. Would he stop now, after getting this far?
No, but he definitely hoped that this trip would be more exciting than what he thought it would be.
"Are you sure you want to come?" It would be useless to ask, but Estelle had been jittery ever since they boarded. Whatever the rumours would tell, he was concerned of his wife to be, third as she was. "It wouldn't be a great trouble. If you would want us to stay home instead."
"We're already here Narcisse." She was still uneasy even with the false bravery. Uneasy of him. Uneasy of the arrangement. Uneasy of the room she was given even when it was of every comfort and of the far end opposite his. She would be uneasy in any form as long as he was there. The circumstances of their coming together wasn't the best, nor was it of love. The furnishings were too grand that it became plain to him now. "Let me unpack our belongings. I am sure you wouldn't find it entertaining enough, as much as Helene makes it fun."
She smiled, soft and shy, and he was reminded on why he chose her above the daring women that wanted to snag his eligibility. "I am sure you will find old friends."
"I hope we find new ones. I hope to see you smile more during this voyage. I would want nothing more than to see you happy." No lies and Estelle saw it, surprised of it, unsure of what to do with it. Narcisse cleared his throat and straightened, making sure that his smile was still true and sincere. Love might be absent, but he cared for her. Cared very much. "I will see you at dinner. Well... Our dinner. Thank goodness."
"Of course. Some quiet is most needed." He nodded at her statement before leaving.
Only to find that he had no idea where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do in such a place. He was tired yet restless, which wasn't the best combination. He started walking since it was better than just standing there creepy.
He started going down the elevators, ignoring the looks of the stewards and their clichéd line of thoughts. Level after level, he would make a roam of wherever he could without getting himself lost. When the heat was too much to bear, he started his ascent. In this big ship, it was so easy to feel so isolated. To ignore all and choose what you have. Here, there were so little care of titles. A look then you will be just another tale to be told or a speck of dust in busier days.
He noticed too late that he was forcing himself to relax, the higher the surface he went. Putting his guard up and making sure every smile was to charm. Whatever challenge he would be in, he would win. This was his norm. It was natural and it was surprising to realize the little things such as these.
The night sky was a wonder, that at least was a comfort. Narcisse walked close the railing. He looked out the looming darkness that seemed to swallow them whole. In the vast ocean, however big this ship was, it was but a miniscule amid all the blue. So small and so fragile. So cold. He took a deep cleansing breath and went over his plans on this ship again.
All revolved to the thought of establishing business abroad and getting more deals. Until the thought of the blonde woman in his quarters came to forefront. Is marrying her the only way to save her? She wasn't weak nor disabled. She was limited though.
He bristled in sudden thought. Estelle wouldn't prosper in France. The claws of Catherine de Medici would tear her apart before she could even go free. She would forever be in his protection and he knew the prospect was the cause of her unease. She has a kind heart and quiet strength, but she didn't have the fire to fight Medici's own. The Valois would target her to be a puppet or next enemy. Only for the fact that she looked weak and too pure for a child of an ex-business tycoon. Maybe it would work some way.
He pushed away. France should be far from his mind even for now. He could be the devil later. He turned to continue his trek in peace, hopefully. Which then quickly turned to disappointment when he realized that he was more intruder than performer.
"Did you forget anything from France, miss?" The woman in front of him was more ghost than human. The white dress she wore fitting the thought. Her fair skin was of the same colouring. She looked haunted too. She faced where France disappeared a few hours ago with her forehead creased. The ends of her plump lips pointed down and he was sure she gritted her teeth behind it. Her hands gripped the railing as either a lifeline to keep her steady, or a neck she wanted to snap. Maybe that was why he asked, to confirm that what stood before him was not a malevolent spirit. Or maybe, he was just bored.
"I brought too much." He was the one to blink, surprised at the sorrow in her voice and the soft smile that her frown turned to. She dropped her hands from the railing and turned away from the view. Not even once did she look at him, so intent to get away.
"We are in the middle of ocean." He subtly barred her way with an arm when she was to go past him. That seemed to snap her out of the haze she was in. Sorrow and anger turning to surprise and confusion. "Throw the unnecessary away."
"I would rather burn them." She met his gaze and he marvelled at it. Fire. Such beautiful blue fire.
"There is something alluring and destructive with fire." He didn't put his arm down. He watched as she looked at it like the neck she might be imagining before. "You can commission the help below."
"Thank you." She looked at him again. Her dark curls shadowed her expression for a moment. Her eyes held the same intensity that was highlighted by her fairness. "But no. Please let me pass."
"I am not stopping you." He found himself wanting her to stay. "I am only wishing your company for a bit longer."
"I don't even know you."
"And I thank my stars for that."
"You can thank your stars without me."
In a few moments, she was past him and all he could do was watch her leave.
He had to apologize to Estelle for being distracted during dinner to even be a good host. It would seem though that his fiancée had an inkling of what was happening. The smile she gave him at goodnight was no longer uneasy but of comforting. It unsettled him.
"Business time tomorrow?"
"I need to introduce you to perspective clients."
"Of course. Good night."
He had tossed and turned in his bed. Sleep evaded him like a plague and a sudden energy gripped him. It demanded action and he had no idea what such energy wanted. He had an idea of what caused it though. Rather, who. There was power in that beautiful woman. So far from Estelle's unsure and quiet strength. Far from Catherine's surety of her games. He swept a hand over his face and growled. His mind raced to unravel the mysterious woman, to determine all the layers she covered herself in. To figure out this honesty that she cloaked around her.
He needed a drink, better yet a smoke with the cold air against his face. The room was too stuffy. Clarity, or a semblance of it, came with a gust of cold air on his face. Thoughts fell into order.
Eduard's letters. He took a great inhale of the smoke and let it stay for a few moments. Let it burn his throat and lungs. He left the business to Eduard and trusted that he would be decisive enough to do what is must. Narcisse's only misgiving was that the boy was easy to rile and quick to lose his patience. His son was more dog than snake. The latter being the ideal. He wished that return wouldn't spell to intervening to some failed ploy the boy messed up on. His lips quirked to a small smile. Maybe he should stop seeing Eduard as a boy. He'd done well after all.
Another deep inhale. Valois. The game he'd been playing with said family was going a bit out of hand. More than anything, this was the biggest reservation he had when he boarded Titanic. Why he always asked Estelle if she really wanted to go. Her refusal would be the surest excuse and it wouldn't even tarnish the reputation he already had. Only cause a good stir with his concern to his fiancée over his other intentions. The elite world was a stage of performance with a dumb audience. Catherine and Henry wanted nothing more than own anything possible. For their name to be on every simple thing that they could find. With their arrangement with Scotland's biggest tycoon, they were sure set to reach out to the North. How would one make sure to not capsize when cruising with a gigantic ship? It was of great luck that they sent the Bastard son to America instead of the heir. Sebastian de Pontiers was no businessman. A diversion clear as daylight. "Now where is the spy? Unless..."
The smoke danced against the dark background. He could see before him the possibility that it would all fail, and what sort of gambling or blackmail was needed to make sure that he wouldn't fail. That the least he would encounter were mere drawbacks instead of drastic downfalls.
One irredeemable mistake and he would be losing one after another.
He couldn't lose. Could never buckle under the pressure he'd been bearing for so long. He took a long drag and exhaled.
"Vous êtes un ciel d'automne, pâle et êtes montés;" He slipped one hand in his pocket and fiddled with the lighter. He pulled it out and just flipped it one handed. "Mais toute la mer de tristesse dans mon sang"
Margaret Brown. He paused. That woman couldn't be underestimated. He could easily assume that she was another Catherine de Medici, but of the kinder sense. Assuming could only do so much though. He hoped that bringing Estelle to meet the woman during breakfast would work in his favor. Surely, there would be more talk with the younger men which he could also work with.
"Les montées et le reflux, laissent mes lèvres moroses," If he had anchor in the New World, then he could risk more with his game in France.
"Le sel avec la mémoire de l'inondation amère." Strong foundations that could endure whatever test. That would be his key to success.
He took another drag.
"Thanking your stars?" Only to be disturbed to a coughing fit by that question. He felt movement to his side, not too close, but the sudden movement was clear. "I'm sorry. Are you alright?"
The high and mighty Stephane Narcisse, coughing his lungs out because he was taken by surprise. It would've been a show to be enjoyed by a notable few. He could picture Catherine's smirk so clearly in his head. "Should I get some water?"
He raised his hand. "I'm fine." He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "This shouldn't be so big a ruckus."
She was in red this time, and she still looked like an apparition. There was a few moments of silence before he spoke again. "Miss."
The red looked like wine in the light of the ship. Her skin almost golden, but the porcelain so clearly there still. Her hair was in a messy bun, exposing her neck to the cold air. She would rather be in a different place than with him. That much was obvious. Another was that she wouldn't follow such line of thought unless direly needed. She was clearly determined to say her piece.
She did approach him in the first place.
He waited. He watched. "I'm sorry for surprising you and for my manner a few hours ago."
"Did you seek me out for this?"
"No." She hesitated. Her blue eyes jumped to a spot behind him before meeting his gaze once more. "I've seen you when I stepped out to the deck."
"And because it is the polite thing to do." He finished the thought for her. The anger was gone from her face and it was enough for him to rethink his first impression. She seemed to be the kind and good daughter type.
"Y-yes. That too." She turned to the ocean, giving him the view of the curve of her nape to admire. "Also, because I never thought I would meet you again so soon. You wouldn't even remember of such exchange by the morrow. You look like a busy man."
He wanted to tell her otherwise. Of how she plagued his mind out of the comfort of his bed. "No harm done. I tried to help where it is not needed. I wasn't the kindest one as well."
She nodded, looked at him, and smiled reservedly. "I will be going then."
"You didn't just come out here to say sorry. You said so yourself."
She paused for a moment, waiting. He turned to her fully. "You said so yourself. Why did you come out here?"
She considered him, and he could feel her gaze penetrating. He could almost hear the cogs in her head moving. Could also imagine the questions littering her mind about his intentions. "I couldn't sleep."
"Stay." He would consider the repercussions of such decision later. Right now, he would prefer her company over being alone. "Maybe we can start again?"
She settled beside him and held the rails. The silence was calmer this time. He found himself relieved that she was staying. There was no big damage if she went, that's a given. Narcisse was never one to miss an opportunity though. "The Eyes of Beauty, by Charles Baudelaire. I only caught the last line, but it is that poem, right?"
He hummed in agreement. Found the smile that stretched her plump lips to be quite charming in all its innocence. "It was my late wife's favorite poem. She said reciting something relaxes her. I took it into habit unknowingly. It does help charm the ladies at times."
A raised brow. He chuckled. "At times."
She simply shook her head at it. Her eyes dancing between amusement and annoyance. Questions danced at the tip of his tongue, too personal for a first meeting. He took a last drag and let it burn his lungs for a few moments. Then, exhaled. "Do you mind?"
She looked at his outstretched hand to the waters, cigar butt at the end. One. Two. Three. Four. "Pocket it."
And he did, grinning all the while.
"Is it so bad, to know you?" He heard her muse out loud, a curious look on her face.
"Many know me not by meeting, but by word of mouth." Without the cigar, he leaned to the railing and stared at her to occupy his thoughts. "And I know what those mouths say."
"Tell me your name then." Her brow was raised as a challenge with a fleeting smile to match.
"Stefane Narcisse." He watched as she absorbed the fact. Her expression turned seeking. The slight purse of her lips. The transition to recognition. That moment that the name clicked to something she definitely had heard before.
"Ah." An amused smile. Three nods and she looked out to the ocean again. "I see."
"What kind of gossip should I prove wrong to you?"
"Plenty." She glanced at him. (He would have called it a teasing glance or a luring one, but he was supposed to be a gentleman.) "You were a well mentioned name in the household before I left."
Now that made his working mind rush faster. For his name to be mentioned in a household, said household would either be part of the business industry or at least well knowledgeable of it. It would then depend on which part of the business the household was in. He wasn't just in one field, so to speak. It would also depend on how high up the ladder the household was for what type of gossip they would know.
"The Madame called you a snake, a liar and a thief. Among many things. The Monsieur, on the other hand, had the great wanting to either behead you or continue your partnership." She shrugged at that. It would seem the she was on the middle ground about such matter. Or, there was the great chance that she wanted to just not get involved. "There is one that's prevalent to the ladies and mothers. They call you a Bluebeard."
"Ah. That. Of course, it would be that." He shouldn't be surprised. She was a woman after all. Women and their whisperings about men would always be about eligibility and love lives.
"You don't need to prove it right or wrong though. I've learned much about 'proving' in France." She pushed away from the railing. "I doubt we would be crossing paths after this trip Monsieur Narcisse. Goodnight."
He watched her leave, she yawned at one point, and let her name still be a mystery. She said so herself, maybe it was better that way.
Author's Note
Sorry for the delay. I don't really have a set schedule for my fic writing. Also, I am drafting out a fancomic series for Narnia. I've also had a downer of my writing. Being the worst critic of myself, I went to the usual "Hey, no one reads it anyway, why write?"
I am almost halfway chapter three after this. But it may take some more time.
Your reviews would help much. Thanks.
