Hey everyone! Thanks for all the reviews, you know I love getting them and hearing what you think, so thanks. OH and I forgot to add a note that notice in the last chapter. Here it is.
Well we all know Remy isn't Remy without his classic trench coat! I had to put that in somewhere!
-UltimateGammy91
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Chapter Ten – Making an Effort
A month later…
"Oh Anna-Marie, you are so lucky! I mean, I'm engaged to a Count, but you! You have a Lord! A handsome and rich Lord no less! You couldn't ask for a more deserving or pleasing marriage. And to think it's only a few short weeks away…"
Rogue smiled feebly at Miss Constance Berley's words but her heart wasn't even remotely in the gesture. To her 'luck' as Miss Constance would put it, the younger woman paid no heed to her lack of enthusiasm at the mentioning of her fiancée. If fact, it wasn't really his fault for her lack of interest, it was her Aunt Carrie's doing. About a month ago, as Aunt Carrie had insisted she had informed her of beforehand, her Aunt had sent out invitations to a Wedding Shower to almost every single woman of high society between the age of fifteen and twenty-five, married, unmarried, betrothed but none spinsters. Hence, when Rogue was woken that fine, frosty winter morning at the crack of dawn, she had been practically dragged out of bed by her Aunt's claw-like fingers and made to dress accordingly and prepare to receive her guests. It had been a long, painful and since the Shower commenced, possibly the most dreadfully droll experience of Rogue's life. She only prayed that God would have mercy on her and make the minutes pass quicker towards midday so that the Shower could end and she could return to her usual misery. Evidently, if God was truly listening to her prayers, Miss Constance wouldn't continue to chatter like a talking bird. Though she was a pretty young girl of only fifteen, engaged to a Count as she said, and of a family of great wealth and respect, she had the personality that squandered all her favourable qualities the moment she opened her mouth and spoke. Her voice was a cluster of girlish giggles, high soprano tones and possibly the fastest tongue in all of England. Rogue flinched inwardly as she sat upright in the grand seating room, not three feet away from the chair Miss Constance sat upon. When her chatter finally ceased for the moment, Rogue gave a polite, albeit strained, smile and replied.
"Thank you Miss Constance, you're too kind."
Miss Constance waved her hand in a delightfully dismissive way but smiled in a proper fashion a lady should when receiving a complement from one's equal. When she returned her hand to her lap, she subconsciously pushed away an invisible piece of string from her floral white and mint-green gown and graciously turned her head of mousey brown curls to smile pleasantly at another woman who concurred with her words. Her face was powdered to perfection, pale as fashion predicted while her cheeks pinched pink. Rogue had to fight back a chuckle when Miss Constance had first greeted her upfront. On the young woman's left cheek about a centimetre from her mouth was a tiny drawn-on mole that hadn't ever been there before. Rogue wanted to cringe and laugh at the sight of the woman's proper manner of behaviour but restrained herself. "One wrong word, or scowl out of you. And girl, I will slap you stupid!" These had been Aunt Carrie's precise words of advice when dealing with her 'lady friends.' Rogue clung to her Aunt's words with all the will she could muster to stop herself from telling Miss Constance what she really thought of her complements. However, it was not just Miss Constance. And she was not the worst of them. Another young lady spoke up, causing Rogue to turn her head simultaneously towards her, Mrs Louisa, Jonathan Martin. She was about a year older than herself, as Aunt Carrie had informed her, married and notorious for saying one thing but her expression saying something entirely different.
"My husband, Mister Martin, has heard much about Lord Black. He heard he's absolutely notorious for being the most adored man of Parisian society."
Rogue forced herself to suppress a scoff at her words. She was sure that what Mrs Martin really meant to say, from the slight rise of her femininely plucked brow, something along the lines of Lord Black being 'the most notorious player and scoundrel of Parisian Society.' It did not surprise her very much, as she had heard various scandalous rumours about him and his family before this. She had heard worse but when he spoke to her, it didn't seem like that was him at all. Of course, he was capable of such scandal and philandering but somehow she couldn't believe it. Not when she knew so little about him and so many rumours that somehow managed to reach her ears from the very people she was supposed to deem 'friends.'
"Well, I heard that he owns a town house in Paris, in the French Country side and in the Caribbean."
"And Italy, as I have heard."
"I heard someone speak of a house in Rome too!"
"Two houses in the Caribbean!"
"An Island? No! You bluff Miss Delaine…"
"Dear Lord, really? Two houses in the Caribbean? My, Lady Anna-Marie you're going to have a house in every place in the world!"
Rogue smiled politely. Her façade falling slightly as the wildfire of chatter began to spread about the room and raise the noise to another level.
"Paris, Italy, Rome and the Caribbean is hardly the world, Miss Donovan."
A few faces lost their colour slightly at Rogue's light retort but not a moment later, Miss Constance spoke up again with a shrill nervous laugh.
"Oh how dearly ironic you are Lady Anna-Marie!"
Rogue smiled, ironically but grimaced inside as she continued to pull at a loose strand of string from her grey gown. How she wanted to run, to escape the horribly placid and faux politeness of the atmosphere before she lost her mind completely. However, before she could loose her mind or run, she felt the two-seat sofa shift slightly as a newcomer came to sit beside her. Several groups had formed around the room, but all seemed to try to catch onto her group's conversation, being the honorary host and all. She turned to meet the newcomer's face only to give a silent sigh of relief when Lady Jean Grey, her neighbour, came to sit beside her. Jean was a radiant young woman in both beauty and character and stood out from the other ladies as the only true Lady Rogue had even had the pleasure of being friends with. While her face was praised by a delicate, kind smile, her radiant red hair was pulled back in luscious thick curls by a hair clip of fresh pink-stained white roses and strings of pearls. Her moss-green eyes were bright with genuine kindness as she spoke and put a hand on Rogue's hand that rest on her lap.
"I'm so sorry I was late coming here dear Anna-Marie, but my carriage had trouble with the snow. I hope I did not miss anything terribly important."
Rogue smiled, genuinely relieved and happy to see her friend come at last. She gave her friend an appreciative squeeze of her hand as she spoke.
"I was beginning to think you had decided not to come."
Jean laughed lightly and shook her head as she replied.
"Oh no, I wouldn't do that."
They shared knowing grins. "And leave you hear to the mercy of these lionesses?" was a common thought for both of them before they were interrupted by Aunt Carrie. She had been mingling with a pair of young ladies across the room but of course, upon the sudden arrival of Lady Jean Grey, she could not even think of not trying to make the right impression. Therefore, when she approached Lady Jean, she gave a winning, charming smile and took Jean's hands in hers as she spoke.
"Lady Jean Grey! My dear, it is wonderful you could have made it."
Jean, who was no fool to Aunt Carrie's attention-seeking ways and true nature, smiled a façade of rehearsed politeness as she replied.
"Lady Delmar, it's a pleasure to see you again. You look well."
Aunt Carrie smiled obligingly and released Jean's hands as she spoke again.
"Oh you are too sweet, dear."
She purposely smoothed out a piece of her greying hair and smiled proudly. Rogue had to clench her teeth not to laugh at her Aunt's actions but luckily for her, Jean remained calm as she spoke.
"I thank you for the invitation Lady Delmar, I'm very glad I could come. Anna-Marie is a dear friend and I would not have missed it for the world."
Aunt Carrie's gaze landed on Rogue for the first time since coming to see Jean. Her smile fell slightly as she replied, sweetly.
"Indeed. You do not know how undeserving she is of such kind praises from a Lady as yourself Lady Jean."
Rogue felt her blood boil slightly but held it back without an ounce of effort. She would let it out later. She always did. Jean and Aunt Carrie conversed for a little longer before Aunt Carrie was called away by another conversation. Rogue was thankful that Jean had come as late as she had been, for the minutes passed a little quicker with Jean to support her through this terror of high society's best. Soon enough, the clock in the room struck twelve and the ladies began to move out of the room towards their waiting carriages and footmen. As they did so, Rogue stood by at the entrance to the mansion, thanking each guest for attending and for leaving their gifts with a small peck on the cheek or a curtsy as they made their way out. When all except Jean had departed, Aunt Carrie walked off at a hurried pace quickly followed by Roy. She had said something about preparing lunch for a round of her grandfather's guests but Jean and Rogue had been long out of the room by the time she let her duties be know. The two friends made their way swiftly out of the house, cloaked in warm fur coats as they made their way into the snow covered gardens. The snow crunched under their shoes as they walked with an arm wrapped around each other's waists while they spoke freely.
"Oh! That was- ugh ah'm so glad that's over an' done with!"
Jean let out an amused chuckle as they walked across the snow covered grass and off the cleared gravel path that they were supposed to walk across. The cold, winter air became mist as she opened her mouth to speak.
"And just think, you will never have to do that again."
Rogue gave a groan of frustration as she whined.
"Oh Gawd do ah hope so."
Jean chuckled before she spoke.
"You only have a Wedding Shower once for each marriage, Rogue. Why? Do you plan on marrying again once you're through with your husband?"
Rogue chuckled meekly and patted her friend affectionately on the arm as she spoke.
"No, if it means ah have t' go through that again, -no, ah won't get married again. But ah'm not married yet so stop callin' him mah husband!"
Jean let out a warm laugh but inside she felt relieved by the good humoured tone that Rogue held when speaking of her fiancée. It had taken her a month to begin sounding remotely pleasant about him. Jean remembered the first time she had visited after the engagement had been announced. Rogue had been venomously against the idea of being in an arranged marriage to a complete stranger. Now, things had become at least a little more bearable. Rogue had put an effort into trying to make the best of the situation and though she was not completely won over, as it was expected from such a woman of her character, she and Lord Black had become…tolerable of each other, if not on some kind of ground of appreciation for each other. It had been a welcomed change.
"Are ya alright Jean?"
Jean smiled, pulling away from her trail of thoughts, and nodded as she replied.
"How is Lord Black?"
Rogue became quiet for a moment but when she spoke, she took a civil tone.
"He's…fahne."
Jean turned her gaze to meet Rogue's with an uncertainly raised brow.
"Just 'fine'?"
Rogue nodded as she kept her feet the ground. She didn't want to elaborate much but Jean would not have such an inadequate answer. She hugged her friend close as she replied.
"Alright, tell me, what did he do?"
Rogue fought back a smile but Jean saw her bite down on her lower lip before she could deny anything more. Jean gave her an expectant look. After a few moment of silent walking, Rogue gave a sigh of defeat and with a reluctant tone in her voice, she replied.
"Fahne…Ah was in the library yesterday, reading a book when he came in. Only, ah didn't hear him so he surprised meh a little an' made meh drop mah book. He apologized, -grinning smugly o' course, and picked up mah book off the floor. It landed on the page ah was readin' last an' he started reading it…out loud."
Jean chuckled, sensing her friend's particular discomposure over that matter of the story. She smiled and asked.
"What was it you were reading?"
Rogue, despite the cold that turned her fair skin a shade whiter than usual, felt her cheeks pulse red with embarrassment as she replied.
"William Shakespeare's Twelfth Night or what you will."
Jean let out an amused giggle.
"Oh that is not so bad- unless…which part did he read?"
Rogue felt her cheeks turn crimson as Lord Black's recantation of the script rang through her ears.
…Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on.
Lady, you are the cruellest she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy…
"When Feste and the Lady Olivia speak with each other, when he calls her a fool."
She replied but her thoughts spoke otherwise. "The part where Viola speaks of her master's love for Olivia." His voice continued to play in her mind as she remembered every word by heart as she had since she was a young girl. The play was a dear favourite to her…not that he knew of course. But the way he had spoken of it had made…an impression, to say the least. His words had spoke some strange, symbolic truth to their situation. She felt her heart begin to race again just as it had when he continued to read the script to her.
…I see you what you are, you are too proud.
But if you were the devil, you are fair,
My Lord and Master loves you- O, such love
Could be but recompensed, though you were crowned
The nonpareil of beauty!
Was she doomed to be Olivia? Supposedly loved by a man who declares all forms of adoration and begs for a chance for her affections so that they may wed? Though there were various aspects of their engagement that were entirely different. She couldn't help but think…wonder… if he was trying to say something through the words that wasn't actually spoken between them… not seriously…
"Rogue?"
Rogue instantly snapped out of her thoughts at Jean's voice. However, when she turned to look at her friend, there was no concerned or confused look across her face. She wasn't even looking at her, she was looking ahead at…
Scott was walking across the gravel path about thirty feet away with a large, heavy pile of chopped timber in his arms. He wore a dark woollen coat that made his figure appear silhouette-like against the grey-toned snow around him. Rogue returned her gaze back to Jean's to study it closer. Her face was pinker than it had been not moments before while her eyes remained alert and unblinking. There was no denial there was every ounce of unspoken affection and longing in Jean Grey's eyes. However, as if by some kind of telepathic link or sixth sense of knowing, Scott stopped mid-way in the path and turned his body to face in their direction. Rogue watched as Jean's face reddened to a deeper shade of crimson. A moment passed before Jean turned to Rogue and gave her an almost pleading glance. Rogue smiled and nodded knowingly before letting her hold on her friend go. Jean was running at a moderate pace across the snow within moments. Her crimson dress swayed noisily with her movements as its rims became snow-soaked but she made little indication of noticing as she made her way to Scott. Rogue couldn't stop the warm smile from spreading across her lips at the sight as Jean came to stand before Scott a mere foot apart from each other as the spoke. To the best of Rogue's knowledge, Scott had loved Jean Grey since they were all young children. However, as boundaries of society, class and money rose between them, it became more apparent with every inch that they came closer together that in this world they were all fundamentally bound to they could never have a life together. At least, not in the eyes of Jean's family and those who would wish them separated. Rogue felt pity and jealousy for them. She felt jealousy because they had each other and loved each other so and at the same time pitied them because they could not openly act upon their love. It made her own situation seem like nothing in comparison, as relationships of love were a far more complicated and troublesome situation than a relationship without love.
Rogue watched with a heavy sigh as Scott and Jean continued to converse in the distance. They made their way down the gravel path and out of sight. After a few moments, she decided to give them their small sliver of privacy and began to walk in the other direction. However, as she turned on her heal to walk back, she ran face-first into something surprisingly warm and solid. The force made her stumble back but before she could fall into the snow, she felt a pair of strong hands grasp her by the shoulders and steady her on her feet. When she tilted her head to look up at the figure however, she was stunned to find Lord Black grinning down on her. She felt her cheeks burn as he spoke up.
"Bonjour Rogue. Y' look well dis afternoon."
She felt her blush creep down her neck as she stared up at him. Her hands had somehow clasped around his strong arms while his hands remained firmly holding her shoulders. She felt his chuckle of amusement hum down his arms as he spoke.
"Et belle when y' blush. Are y' alright?"
Rogue blinked for the first time in a probably a full minute before letting go of him and slipping out of his hold to let a foot of space come between them. He continued to grin, his breath causing clouds of mist to escape his nose as he watched her. After a few moments, and after her blush had subsided somewhat, she spoke.
"What- What are ya doin' here, Damien?"
Shortly after their discussion on the night of their engagement party, Remy had insisted that she begin to call him by his first name. Though he felt odd pangs of guilt at being called under his false name by her, it was necessary to build up some degree of trust between them. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. He kept his smile at ease as he turned to one of his trench coat pockets and pulled out a small, rectangular package and handed it out to her. Her brow furrowed in confusion, but she did not reach out to take it. He chuckled softly and extended it closer within her reach as he spoke.
"It won't bite mon chére- It's for y'."
She raised a disbelieving brow at him but again, did not take it.
"What is it?"
Remy smirked as he took a step towards her and reached out to take one of her hands. Her hands, he noticed, were like ice without gloves on but just as soft as ever as he wrapped them around the package. He let it go within her grasp while he spoke.
"Maybe y' should open it an' see, non?"
Rogue raised her brow at him once more but nevertheless began to un-wrap the parcel. It was wrapped in a thick brown paper but after a few tears and pulls, she was able to pull from its clutches a-
"A book?"
Remy smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes as he replied.
"Non?"
Rogue rolled her eyes at him as she turned it over to look at its cover. It was hard-bound but not a thick volume, and across the cover was the title-
"A Midsummer Night's Dream?"
Remy smiled charmingly. He felt a spasm of joy engulf his senses as, ever so slowly, her eyes became brighter- happier. A small smile threatened to tug at her lips a she turned her gaze back to the book. He watched as her small fingers traced over the rims of the cover affectionately. It took every ounce of his will not to tease her about beginning to smile, but he knew if he did it would disappear. So he spoke otherwise-
"I realised, after y' left de library, dat y' didn't have it in y' collection. Have y' read it before, chére?"
Rogue shook her head as she came to meet his gaze. His smile broadened as he replied.
"It be one of my favourites. I t'ink y' would enjoy it, has evert'ing dat Twelfth Night had et more."
Rogue suddenly felt warm inside as she absentmindedly traced the rims of the cover in her fingers. She had never received many gifts in her life, not in England at least, but even so, no gift she had ever received had been as heartfelt as this. After a moments silence, she managed to give a gentle response.
"Thank you, Damien…ah…ah don't really know what to say, except that."
Remy grinned. Triumphant. However, before she could say anything more, he reached out a caught her free hand and held it. Their gazes locked for a moment before he spoke.
"I expected nothing more than your thanks, mais, I was wondering…"
Rogue felt her warmth diminish slightly as he trailed off for a moment before continuing.
"…If y' would care t' join moi in de library. Y' see…"
As he spoke, he reached into his other pocket and pulled out another book which, when she took a closer looked, was another copy of the play.
"I have my own copy wit' moi. Mais, I find reading it in mind isn't as entertaining as reading it aloud."
Rogue's face fell slightly as she paled.
"Are ya suggesting we…?"
"Oui. I intend t' read it aloud t' y', an' if y' should like t' join moi, den I couldn't be happier."
Rogue stared at him for a moment. There was such blatant honestly in his eyes, no tricks, no apparent attempts for attention or gain to his ego. He was genuinely trying to make an effort for them to get along. The question was, however, was whether or not she was willing to let him try.
"Y' don't have t' if y'd rather read it alone chére."
Rogue looked down at his hold on her hand. It was a warm hold, gentle but firmly in place. His hands were surprisingly gentle in comparison to their roughness and worn texture. Rogue frowned slightly. They were not the hands of a man of high society. No man of that kind ever did anything for himself with his own hands. The only man she had ever seen such hands on had been… "Mah father…" She was brought out of her analysing thoughts when she felt his fingers squeeze her hand lightly in waiting anticipation. Finally, she raised her head and replied.
"Ah'll listen, ya read?"
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Olivia: Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot love him.
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth,
In voices well divulged, free, learned, and valiant,
And in dimension and the shape of nature
A gracious person. But yet I cannot love him…
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Hope everyone enjoyed this!
Disclaimer: Don't own Twelfth Night, that it the property of William Shakespeare.
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-UltimateGammy91