Bouquet

(C) Intelligent Systems and Nintendo

-0-

Elegant Arrangements in Priceless Vases, or, A Story Told in Six Movements

First Movement: Sweet Pea
(a meeting)

Dearest Lord Pent, how have you been? Regarding your last letter, I truly believe the closeness of our birthdays to be a happy coincidence, and I would be pleased to accept your invitation. My parents enjoy celebrating throughout the entire month of January, partly because of our heritage as Lighter Elimineans and partly because we all do so love a party, especially in a month as bleak and as unkind to farming as that month. I do agree that either the latter end of the month or early February would be a fine time to meet; therefore, I will eagerly anticipate it. As there are only a couple short months until the event, I will think very hard to bring a fine gift worthy of you...

...Moving on to other matters, I am relieved to hear that you found my idea acceptable. If it would not be an inconvenience, perhaps you and your mother could come and visit the castle for a few days as honored guests? You have never had the opportunity to visit the castle town, and to be honest I have not had much opportunity myself between my work and rewriting my paper. I would be happy to make additional accommodations as necessary. As for the idea of a gift, I must admit that I am curious to see what you will come up with. May I ask what you would like? I cannot pretend I know exactly what would suit you. Whatever you like, I will do my best to find...

...My dear lord, birthday gifts are much more fun when they are a surprise! I find that I like the very most those gifts that I never knew I had needed until they were bestowed upon me. It perhaps has something to do with how my family and friends envision my needs year by year, and how they strive to fulfill that unconscious need in their own, special way. Therefore, I can only refuse to answer your question, and I must also add that I am very much looking forward to what you will find for me...

...Mlle. Émile, that is unexpectedly cruel. I find that I am at a loss, having not fallen into the habit of gifting except when necessary. I never imagined such utter disdain and lack of pity for those who are like me, an innocent in this apparently treacherous world where a single gift can say so much, and yet you will not even grant me a single hint. Wasn't there a parable in the Journey of Saint Elimine that decried such unkindness?

Oh, Lord Pent, how unkind you are to tease me so! But, it is already December, and my mother wishes to know what will be occurring during our mutual celebration. My father is particularly anxious, although he is still unsure on whether he will attend or not. Regardless, may I ask the date you have settled on?

...About the matter of our birthday celebration, I am afraid that it has changed much since its conception. My steward, once he learned of our plans, decided that it would be the perfect time to hold a ball in honor of our birthdays, among other things. When will you be able to come here? I am afraid that we now have dancing lessons to attend or else risk great displeasure, the castle seamstresses would like to fit you for a dress, and I am being harassed daily over a thousand little arrangements and cannot find a moment's peace to work on anything. Honestly, they are even asking me about flower arrangements for the banquet--do flowers even grow in winter?
Yours, Pent Martel

Second Movement: Cherry Tree
(education)

The first time Louise had placed her hand in Lord Pent's had inspired within her a feeling unlike any other, both blessing and balm granted at a time when she was made to endure nothing short than the worst moment in her life. Then there had been the second, holding hands as they hurried from Lord Pent's former academy to the entrance of the city or risk her mother's anger or even worse, the sharp-tipped wit her mother wielded as deftly as any master swordsman his blade. Now, after a week-long stay at Castle Reglay where she and Lord Pent had dancing lessons once a day in two-hour increments, she could no longer fully recover the girlish pleasure she took at the newness of his touch, though her growing experience could never be claimed a poor substitute. As he was the first man outside of her family with whom she had the pleasure of physical acquaintance, she took care to attempt to imprint upon her memory a worthwhile description of how his touch felt, but she could do no more than barely understand the tumble of feelings in her chest each and every time, even with the growing familiarity.

There were other tumbles too, owing to the fact that neither of them were particularly sure-footed individuals with any extravagant amount of grace. She could understand it in herself, who was not comfortable in a body she barely recognized as her own as of late, but Lord Pent had never proven to be inordinately clumsy in their few meetings. Then again, with the work piled on him, she could not help but wonder if he had been getting enough sleep lately. Beyond their daily lessons, they rarely crossed paths except for dinner and the occasional breakfast and afternoon tea, though she would be so lucky to have all those possible meetings in a single day.

Perhaps it was for the best. He battled with the budget and the whims of the minor lords of Reglay County, and she had her own battles as well.

Their instructor, a woman who dressed even more severely than Louise's dear mother and demanded to be called 'Madame', clapped her hands to signify the end of the lesson. Louise had to turn her head to hide the disappointment on her face when Lord Pent released her with a soft sigh of relief, even though she knew in her heart of hearts that it had nothing to do with her--he just found it all to be slightly ridiculous at best, and he was not at his best these days. So, instead of letting her brief weakness overwhelm her, she used the time it took to step back from his tall frame to compose herself so that the smile she sent him afterward was truthful to her feelings. "Only three more days left," she reminded him. "We're doing better together, aren't we?"

He looked more relaxed than she had seen him recently as he returned her smile. "So long as I follow you," he replied in an agreeable tone. "Shall we have you lead tomorrow?"

"The man always leads!" reprimanded Madame from halfway across the unfinished ballroom, startling the both of them out of their casual conversation. Regrettably it could not be recovered, as Lord Pent's features developed the strained look that far too often eclipsed his natural reserve as he glanced at a tiny table clock on one of the side tables.

"I have to go. If I can finish the paperwork for next year's budget in two hours, I'll have some time to research more on elder magic." His expression was so apologetic that Louise wished for nothing more than for the day to gain a couple more hours so that he could finish all the work required of him. Unfortunately, all she could do was nod and smile.

"I'll see you at dinner then, Lord Pent."

After he departed, his long legs working at a stride she could never match, much less overtake, the smile on her lips tapered off as she thought on what was next in regards to her own itinerary. She found herself trudging out the ballroom towards her next destination in a most unladylike manner, but it could not be helped. Every childish impulse within her wanted to pretend at illness if only to escape for a single afternoon, but Lord Pent would hear of it (as he heard of all things, being lord and master of the castle) and it would worry him unnecessarily. That, coupled with his growing stress in regards to his duties, would be the height of unkindness towards him--she could never do such a thing!

Just as her mother had told her, this was the path she had chosen. Thus, she must walk it. But...

Misery made heavy both her heart and her step, but as she neared the door where she was to meet the seamstress and the many maids who were working on her dress for the ball she took amends to step more carefully. Already she could hear them talking on the other side of the ajar door about the thing they so loved to hate the most--Louise herself.

"Honestly, that's what Leena told me! That girl not only eats everything on her plate, but she also took dessert as well. She'll eat anything offered to her!"

"It just puts more strain on us. I told her mother the other day, 'Milady, you need to watch what the girl eats, she's too short to hide much fat. All the corsetting in the world won't help her once it starts to show.' And would you believe it, her mother actually asked me if I knew it from experience! It really hurts my heart, it does, that our lord would accept such vile, uncouth people into our home. You know, the former count was just beyond excellence, but his son..."

"Oh, not one word more from you! Lord Pent is just growing into the position. He's still just a boy."

"True, true enough. We can only hope he'll find someone more suitable at the party. An actual woman worthy of being called Countess Reglay, that's all I pray for at night. I don't think I could stay on if he actually married that child."

"Don't say that. I'm certain we can survive her. She's so pleasantly stupid that it'd be a cinch to get our way around here. If only we could make sure she chose one of us as her lady's maid instead of that copper-haired girl it'll be just wonderful. That's the one I really hate. She's always looking at me like she's judging me. Can you believe the nerve of a farmer's maid looking at anyone like that?"

"Just go lean on Master Borenze a bit, and I'm sure he'll make it happen. Lord Pent always does what he says, I heard."

"If only that worked for our lord's choice of bride. I hear he's still seething over the pre-nuptial negotiations. They're absolute skinflints, but is that really a surprise?"

Closing her eyes, Louise took a step back, her heart wounded by her fatal sense of curiosity. Every day she did this, knowing that each time she would be harmed severely, but she always, always wanted to learn more. For all their little cruelties, their unkind suggestions, their bland stares whenever she talked as if they were willing her to shut up, she still had yet to find out why they said such things even when she listened in secret. All she could figure out was that they harbored a deep displeasure towards her as a result of her lower class and the fact that they felt she was unworthy of Lord Pent--that was her own fear too, sometimes, but it only made her all the more determined to do her best. However, everything she did were the very worst of sins according to them, and she did not know how to prove herself otherwise.

She took another step backwards, as if to distance herself further from the very real ache she felt, only to find her back hitting against something solid. Gasping softly, she spun around, only to find herself face-to-face with kind Lisette, who wore a look of such concern that it made Louise want to burst into tears from the sympathy. In the next moment she found herself embraced by Lisette's sturdy arms, her face pressed against the maid's shoulder. For one moment, one heartbeat, Louise longed to give into her emotions and indulge herself in a good cry.

Of course she couldn't, and the moment passed. But that the moment even existed in the first place hurt her sense of pride terribly.

"Never mind what they say," Lisette whispered into her hairline. "In a moment, you're going to go in there and show them that good Allowellian ladies can endure anything, even prissy castle maids who think they can assume a lord's stature just because they wear his crest on their aprons. And soon enough you'll show them what it means for Lady Catherine's daughter to be in charge."

"But," Louise fidgeted, "I don't want to be mean to them. That--that wouldn't be right."

Lisette, sweet Lisette, chuckled warmly. "You really are your parents' child." The comment was enough to urge a tremulous smile onto Louise's face, and she, in a rush of emotion stemming from a feeling much more immature than her fifteen years of age, snuggled her face into the crook of Lisette's neck.

"I know I have to go in there, but for right now, can I please...?" The delight that blossomed within Louise when Lisette only tightened her hold made her believe that even winter could be a fertile season, so long as there were people who loved her nearby.

And she would protect that small bloom of hope, no matter how often others sought to rip it out.

-0-

One, two, three...one, two, three...one, two, three...

Pent started from his reverie, momentarily confused. It took him another moment to realize that he was sitting at his desk in the office he had inherited from his departed father, and that he had written the dance counts several times in the letter of gratitude he was sending to Baron So-and-So in return for a gift that he had no intention of ever using. With a sigh of suppressed frustration, he crumpled the letter and tossed it with the rest of the paper waste before leaning back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes. He felt disheveled and worn, the natural consequence of having all sorts of work and requests imposed upon him to such an extent that he hadn't been outside in weeks to talk with the spirits. If he were asked to cast a spell from a fire tome, he had a feeling all that would come out would be sparks and ash. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he saw that he would have to find himself at dance lessons in less than half an hour and wondered if he could get away with napping for that long...

There was a knock on the door, and the only reason why he suppressed the urge to set it on fire was because he kept his magic tomes in his bedroom.

"...Come in," he said after a moment, straightening his posture as he did so. One of the clerks entered, his head lowered so that Pent was left staring at a crown of auburn hair. This attempt at supplication did nothing but irritate Pent, if only because he had a feeling the following meeting would eat up all of the time he could've spent resting.

"Milord," the clerk said as he approached Pent's desk, his head lifting just enough that Pent could see the contrite expression on his youthful face. Pent noticed that the clerk was carrying a few of the leather-bound ledgers that he recognized as the financial records for the previous years. His interest slightly piqued, Pent gestured for the clerk to sit down.

"What can I do for you?"

"Ah...there was something I discovered--"

"Oh, Lord Pent!" As the clerk hadn't closed the door behind him, Pent had the perfect view to watch a few maids waltz (the very word dampening his slight uptick in his mood) into his office without even a 'by your leave'. "Milord, we need to ask you a few questions about some last-minute replacements," began the eldest of the women. "Now--"

"Pardon me," Pent started, raising his hand for some peace. "Can't you discuss whatever it is with Lady Catherine?"

"Well, no, of course not. These things can only be decided by the head of House Reglay, since we'll need additional funds."

Pent shook his head. "Why not ask Louise, then? She's going to be the future lady of the house, she can surely agree as well as I ever could."

The maids shifted, but only the eldest maid curled her lip in such a way that confused Pent. "I'm terribly sorry, but we'd much prefer if you answered, milord."

In desperation he looked at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes had already passed, and he had the feeling that the maids would simply not budge until they had their audience with him. His eyes met with the clerk's, and as if the older man could read his mind the clerk stood up. "Forgive me, milord. I will consult with you another day."

"After this whole ball fuss dies down I'll give you as much time as you like," Pent promised the clerk, only to hear a gasp from his now-appalled maids.

"Milord, how can you be so dismissive! This will be a very important party! You'll be able to personally meet with many of the young lords and ladies of Etruria! Even though you are Count Reglay, this will be vitally important in order to maintain strong bonds with other noble houses!"

As best as he could, Pent withheld a sigh as he endured the ensuing lecture with the bare remnants of his good grace, nodding and making the most absurd decisions between cornflower blue or sky blue for something-or-the-other, the only firm, realized thought going through his mind being I just wanted to spend some time with Louise, what does all this have to do with that?

Third Movement: Red Valerian
(readiness)

On the evening of the ball, Pent stood in front of the floor-length mirror as his valet straightened out the coat he wore and remembered a time before he was Count Reglay.

He turned from his image in the mirror as the door to his room opened. "Father?"

There was no expression on his father's face as the older man looked at him--there rarely was. All Pent could say with certainty in regards to his sire was that Count Reglay eschewed frivolity whenever possible, locked away in his office as was his wont. Pent only minded this when he was in Reglay Castle, which was not often after he had been accepted into a magic academy, but he kept his feelings to himself because no one particularly cared for his opinions. His father couldn't surprise him, he thought, because one cannot be surprised when there are no expectations at all.

He thought wrong; that was why he was in this position now.

His father stayed near the door. "I heard you dismissed your valet."

Pent returned his attention to the mirror, his head slightly lowered as he worked on the buttons of his coat. "Yes."

"Why?"

"...Not to sound impertinent, but I can dress myself."

"It has nothing to do with that." Pent raised his head slightly in reaction, somewhat confused as to why they were even having this conversation in the first place. "You will have to become accustomed to the position of Count Reglay. I have allowed you to maintain your independence, but you must comport yourself as my heir when you are in this place."

"...As you like," Pent responded. "Then, I will call him in--"

"Don't bother. This is just something for you to remember in the future."

Pent looked at his father then, mildly uncomfortable with the conversation, though he could not put a finger on what it was that bothered him so. It was not like his father to come to him only to impart advice. It made him want to push back, to make his father fall from his lofty indifference so that Pent would not be alone in his discomfort, but the most he was willing to do was to say, "Thank you for the birthday party, Father."

There was a flicker of annoyance on his father's face. "Don't be so naive. This has nothing to do with you."

Pent smiled inwardly. "Yes, of course." It was only a coincidence that he had bothered to come back to Reglay due to the confusion going on at the academy over the quincentennial celebration, even more of a coincidence that it was a week until his birthday, and the crowning achievement of all coincidences being that his father had planned a small party with the nobility of Reglay for the sake of flattering them. Now, of course, the excuse was that it was to celebrate the Reglay House heir's fourteenth birthday, and it had all gotten quite a bit more extravagant in the telling. Neither father nor son were much for large parties, but Pent had to admit a certain amount of pleasure in the fact that he was apparently noticeable enough that his stiff-backed father had been forced to modify his plans.

"Your mother liked parties."

The sudden volunteering of information made Pent pause. "Did she?"

His father nodded. "If she were still alive, she would've dominated this whole farce and made it about herself."

It would only occur to Pent later that this was an in, that he could've connected with his father, if only begrudgingly, while learning more about the mother he had never known. Had he known that his father would pass away within two years, he liked to think that he surely would have tried. Instead, he murmured something noncommittal, finished straightening out his coat, and they went on their way without another word.

And that was that.

Three years later, Pent exhaled softly as his valet finished with his coat. He supposed he looked as fine as he ever would for something of this nature, however much his heart beat inside his chest in general dismay over all of this, and with a tense smile he held his hand out to his valet. "The gift, if you would please."

The valet disappeared for a moment, returning with the slender rectangular object, easily thin enough to slip inside his coat. Pent felt much more relieved as he did so, feeling particularly proud of himself for discovering such a perfect gift for Louise. Surely she would be pleased, and he would never reveal to her just how much he wracked his brain trying to figure out just what she would desperately want but never realize for herself; what a silly girl she was, writing all that and making him almost uncontrollably frantic as the weeks disappeared without any sign of the perfect present.

He smiled, feeling a little silly himself. But, he didn't think it was a bad thing, not for either of them. To be honest, it was quite...fun.

-0-

As much as Louise enjoyed transforming from a caterpillar to a butterfly, she had to admit that the process of the metamorphosis could be much improved with greater satisfaction to herself. It had not been so horrible before, when she was being prepared--she did not feel she could claim the active voice at that time--to present herself to Lord Pent, but this time she was not left to the capable fingers of Lisette and Celia. It had been insisted upon by the maids of Reglay Castle that they would assist her, for as their lord's betrothed it meant that Louise herself would be representing House Reglay in some fashion.

To put it another way, Louise had never learned much in the way of wood carving, for even if it was dead she in some way felt sorry for what used to be part of an old, stately tree. Now she would never learn because she could sympathize with how the wood itself must feel.

Two maids, at either side of her, pulled and tugged their combs through her hair while muttering imprecations over its thin quality; her mother liked to say it was comparable to spun golden silk, always willing to impart a healthy shine while being soft and smooth to the touch. It was not hair that needed much more than a delicate touch to mold it and a few pins to keep it still, but the maids working on it now seemed to think it was rather more like facing a battalion of tightly-woven curls. This was similar to how they had forced her into her dress, muttering all the while that she must have gained weight, although she was already aware, though her shameful interest in eavesdropping, that her dress had been sabotaged so that it was one size smaller--the seamstress hoping aloud that it would humiliate her into eating more 'ladylike portions.' In a rare fit of pique, Louise simply continued to eat however much she liked and took to longer walks around the castle with Celia. The end result was that she could still fit into her dress for the fateful night, but her corset was tightened without care for her still-growing body and her bosom was exposed to such an extent that she didn't dare look at herself in the vanity mirror before her. Though she knew she was being set up for failure, the fact that her mother had taken one look at her and nodded approvingly before she was whisked away to face untold torment to her hair and scalp meant that the maids had only succeeded in embarrassing her with the debatable bounties of her body while still keeping her appropriate for the ball.

She winced as her head was tugged rather abruptly in one direction; the maid to her left muttering, "Hold still!" before yanking her back in the other direction. It was all she could do not to cry out in pain, not when she was already so determined to show that she could not be subdued or bent in such a manner. As her father had said, worth beyond beauty--words she would live by.

"I think that is enough!"

The maids at Louise's sides stilled their activity, the whole room having gone quiet without warning. Louise fidgeted, her fingers twisting and pulling at each other in exposed nervousness; that had been unmistakably dear Celia's voice, strong and solid with righteousness. It was the sort of tone that would either awe or anger those it addressed, and Louise noted with dismay that the maid to her right was gripping her hair in a matter that did not suggest the former. "You, be quiet! Leave this work to the true professionals and sit down!"

Celia did not pause in that thoughtful manner Louise had always known whenever they talked between themselves; this was an altogether different girl, one with anger lacing her words as she said, "Professionals? Is it professional to treat a noblewoman in such a manner? Are you even trying to style her hair, or do you only want to extend your torture until you can make her cry? This surely can't be the extent of the skill of the maids House Reglay hires, can it?"

"What sort of talk is this, coming from a child like you?" mocked another maid, who had been reclining upon a chaise in the room and complaining loudly about the arduous task of 'squeezing' Louise into her dress before Celia's outburst. "You think we care about the words of a farmer's servant? Know your place--"

"Enough," Louise said, staring directly into the mirror before her, her back as straight as she could get it (the corset helping in this endeavor immensely), her anger at Celia's mistreatment causing her to grip her hands in her lap to give her feelings the outlet necessary to keep them off her face. "I won't hear one more word against her. You all may serve House Reglay, but you're all still servants too, in the end." She paused, knowing she had gone too far with that last remark, but feeling strangely unconcerned about the consequences--for the sake of her dearest friend, of the girl who was sister to her in all ways but blood, she would not endure anyone speaking ill of Celia. "Celia, please help me with my hair."

She could see Celia in the mirror, her good friend's strawberry-blond hair bouncing to and fro as she nodded. "It would be my pleasure, Lady Louise."

Louise did not have to use the mirror to see the faces of the Reglay Castle maids to know their emotions; she could feel their anger almost as keenly as she had just now felt her own. She knew that what she had done was unforgivable in their eyes, and any chance she had of their accepting her as their mistress and lady of the house was now years delayed, if not completely obliterated. Perhaps her only friend in the entire castle was Lord Pent now.

But she was fifteen years old, no longer quite the child in either mind nor body. She knew there would be hard, adult decisions before her, and she could no longer be protected from making them. Her mother told her to walk the path before her.

If at all possible, she would like to do so with the people she trusted by her side.

-0-

"Nervous, are you?"

Louise started, tearing her gaze away from the door where Lord Pent would enter to escort her to the dining room to face her mother, who was sitting next to her in perfect stillness as she read one of her omnipresent novels. "N-no," she answered, somewhat breathless.

Her mother turned the page of the small, leather-bound book, not looking up from its pages. "And you're feeling well? Not going to faint or anything like that?"

"Um, no, not especially."

With a quickness that belied her mother's normally deliberate movements, her mother slammed the book onto Louise's leg, which she had been jostling in nervous anticipation for some time now. Louise gasped, deeply surprised, and went still. Her mother leaned forward, something of a smile--though it revealed more irritation than it did kindness--on her face as she said, "Then kindly stop that. No one likes to hear the persistent rustle of satin and tulle as background noise."

"Y-yes, forgive me," Louise said, duly chastened. Her mother removed the book as she returned to her normal position, her smile now replaced by a look of consternation as her gaze stayed on Louise's face. "Mother?"

Her mother waved a hand in a gesture Louise had long since interpreted as a way of revealing that she was mildly discomfited, even if she said nothing to that effect. "This is your first ball. Had you lived in another world you would be more experienced at such a thing, what with debuting and status and whatnot. Since you lack experience, just do the best you can and learn well for the next time. You can only really go up from here."

Nodding, Louise responded, "I have no intention of making Lord Pent look bad."

"Think more about yourself," her mother chided. "As it is, your negatives will not make those others inclined to appreciate you."

"My negatives?"

"Your newness, your disinclination to conformity..." A smirk appeared on her mother's face. "Your parentage."

Louise shook her head fiercely. "I would much rather have you and Father as my parents than any advantage I have never known." This insistence only grew stronger as her mother's expression grew, by the faintest degree, sad and--dare she say?--resigned. "Mother, is something wrong?"

Her mother raised a hand to touch her own hair, her fingers a warmer tinge of her natural peaches-and-cream complexion against the rich color of her dark brown locks. They both wore simple, elegant twists, but such a look was more natural on her mother, who wore her hair as such everyday if possible. "Don't you worry about me. I know you're feeling uncomfortable, but that doesn't mean you should avoid your feelings by concentrating on someone else's problems. You are selfless and that made you easy to raise, but you're not going to get far in this world if you put others before yourself."

"Oh," Louise breathed. Having thus been found out, she wavered. "I just wonder...if it is really necessary that I, um, expose myself to this degree..."

"Expose?" Her mother's tone was incredulous. "Louise, it's just your shoulders and a bit of your chest." At that distressing word, Louise's hands went to that area, lightly fingering the strings of thin silver wire that looped around and around in lengthening ovals, the borrowed necklace studded with set stones of lapis lazuli dark enough to match her dress. Her mother did not seem to notice the action as she continued her lecture. "Certainly you seem to have grown quite a bit more womanly since the last time you were dressed up for the sake of House Reglay, but even your father would--well, he'd have a bit to say about it, but it's hardly scandalous--" Stopping herself in mid-sentence, her mother sighed in obvious frustration. "Oh, no. Is this why you've taken to wearing such dreadfully ill-fitting outfits? This is really an inopportune time for this conversation, you do realize."

Louise looked away. "I know it is a petty thing, but it all seems so sudden..." She felt her mother's hand on the bare skin of her shoulder and felt compelled to face her mother, no matter the expression she would have to see. Her mother's face, so familiar to her, was softened by compassion so bright and pure that in that moment Louise could not turn away from her mother for anything in the world.

"You may be a strange child, but your feelings are those of every woman that has come before you and will come after you. After tonight we'll talk more about this, but for now I want you to know that you aren't alone. Just, for now, remember to hold your head up high and breathe calmly--yes, like that. Even if you have no confidence right now, it is vitally important that you not shrink away. Once you get in the habit of imitating mice, then you've lost. Just remember, you are the girl Lord Pent chose." A sudden distaste for the words she was hearing made Louise wrinkle her nose, though she could not place why she wished to avoid them so readily. To this, her mother showed her white teeth in a small grin. "What is the matter now?"

"Somehow, although I was happy to be selected by Lord Pent, I...don't like how you said that," Louise answered with some struggle, unsure of her feelings while at the same time knowing them intimately. Her mother laughed.

"Good, very good. You at least understand that much. Hold on to that feeling, and never let it out of your sight. You're not some horse, or dare I say a brood-mare, but a young woman with a sense of dignity and purpose. If you put your entire pride in being chosen, rather than in those actions that caused you to rise above all others in his estimation, you might as well stand on your pedestal and freeze your muscles stiff." With a twist of her lips, Louise's mother reached forward and lightly pinched Louise's nose. "But don't wrinkle your nose that way, it's unladylike."

Louise giggled and pulled away, raising one gloved hand to hide what now must be a slightly reddened nose. "I'll remember that," she promised. "Thank you, Mother."

"Oh, it's--"

The door opened.

-0-

If Pent was nervous--something he would deny vigorously, should anyone dare--he was determined not to let it show. He certainly had no reason to feel anything other than somewhat put out when it concerned the matter of this ridiculous party. All that was left for him to do, after weeks of disorder and added stress on top of the annual budget, was to escort Louise to dinner, then to the ballroom, dance however little he could get away with as was appropriate, then he would give Louise her present and retire back to his own room and sleep. Obviously, the night would improve greatly by the end. At least for the last few days of her stay they would at least have the time to talk. All that was left was this.

He was not anxious, merely perturbed that he had to wait for no discernible reason before he could meet with her. Though he normally considered himself fairly patient, he found his imagination occupied by rather depressing scenarios as he stood in the hallway outside the room where Louise and her mother should be waiting. This did not mean that he was particularly agitated; it was surely a known fact that fatigue could bring out unpleasant visions. It must be so, even if he was more awake than he had been of late.

Pent sighed. During prior engagements, he had never recalled feeling so strange before. Was it a symptom of adulthood, the mark of turning seventeen and feeling many years older? He could only feel grateful that his hair was already gray.

It's all because my plans were for naught, he thought with a slight smile despite himself. No matter what I do now, I'll have to adhere to the rules of being noble-born. My status as Count Reglay demands it. Perhaps if I'm lucky, Louise will enjoy all this. Of course, if I'm really unlucky, she'll enjoy this type of thing too much.

He heard the soft footsteps of someone approaching and looked up to find a male servant. "Milord, it is time."

"Everything is in place, then?"

"Of course."

With a nod, Pent walked to the door and opened it, realizing only afterward that he probably should have knocked first. In his impatience he seemed to have interrupted a discussion between Louise and her mother, and in delayed embarrassment he paused his stride and said, "Forgive me, I hope I haven't interrupted anything important."

"N-not in the least, Lord Pent," Louise replied as she rose from her seat, bowing her head as she dipped into a curtsy. "I wish you a happy birthday."

"Yes, thank you. The same to you, Louise." He would have remarked on the fact that her birthday had already passed and his was in the latter half of this, the first ice month of the year, but he found himself inexplicably distracted by Louise's appearance--or rather, a facet of it. She wore an off-the-shoulder dress the same dark blue Reglay had adopted as its primary color, and on the front of her bodice the Reglay crest had been embroidered in bright gold. It made him uncomfortable to see her out of her colors of dawn and fitted into that of House Reglay, as if she had been stripped of everything that made her interesting and attractive to him and was well on her way into being Countess Reglay, lady of the house. He especially hated the crest upon her, like the branded cattle he had seen once on a short tour through the county. The realization that he must have approved of this design when it was waved in front of him by the seamstresses simply because he had been distracted was like being burned with his own spell; by choosing her as his bride, he was doing his part in ruining her.

If the evening could become worse for him than it already was, he would not like to see it.

"...Lord Pent?"

He blinked at the mention of his name before his gaze flickered upward from the crest and he became momentarily distracted for a completely different reason. When his gaze reached her face, he saw that her face was bright red as she stared at him in what was most charitably described as shock. Thankful for his ability to remain pleasantly expressionless during the worst of times, he merely said, "That crest is a little ridiculous, wouldn't you say?"

Louise flinched, then looked down at herself, her hands on her flat waistline. "Oh! It is a bit interesting." She raised her head and smiled at him, absolutely no distrust upon her charming features. "But I was very honored to have a dress made for me by your servants. I'm very thankful to you, Lord Pent."

He shook his head as he approached her. "Think nothing of it. The form of the dress suits you very well--all of it does, really," he amended as quickly and naturally as possible. He offered her his arm to distract her further and looked over her head at Lady Catherine, who had a neutral expression just as good as his own. "Lady Catherine, it's a pleasure to see you again. I hope you don't mind your role for the night."

There was a look of careful consideration on the older woman's face. "I don't mind it one bit, Lord Pent. After all, she is my only child and I am very willing and able to be an excellent chaperone to her."

She's angry at me, isn't she. Pent nodded and quickly returned his attention to Louise as they headed out the door. "Well, Louise, I hope you'll enjoy dinner. I hear the chef is very happy that you enjoy his meals." He was happy too--she didn't waste food.

"Oh, I'm glad," Louise said with a giggle. "But I wonder, will there be cake for dessert?"

He heard Lady Catherine sigh loudly behind them, but with newfound amusement he focused on Louise's question. "Cake?"

"Yes, like a birthday cake. I quite like all kinds of cakes very much. Ellie, our cook at home, makes delightful desserts," Louise replied with a small smile and pink cheeks. With a light touch she placed her free hand on his forearm. "Sometime you should visit us and try some of them, if you don't mind."

"I don't," he replied, though he lacked the sweet tooth necessary for that sort of venture. Hearing her talk so cheerfully about dessert made him reassess his thoughts from earlier regarding Louise and her possible ruination at the hands of his noble house. To underestimate her, he felt, would be an insult neither of them should have to bear. "If there isn't a cake today, there will definitely be cake tomorrow," he promised, and at the sight of her invincible smile he began to have hope that tonight would not be so bad after all.

-end to part 1-

Originally this story was supposed to be one part alone, but then I just kept writing and writing and now it seems I've written over seven thousand words for just the first half. I didn't think that a 15K story would be a good idea after splitting The Budding Garden, which I'm sure had less words, so I hope this is more convenient for all of you reading. The second half will come out later this week, and please expect a number of Bouquet stories this month! Thank you for reading!