These blasted legal papers took forever... By the time I finished, Jacqueline had already gone to bed. Lately she had seemed rather frustrated. I knew not whether it was with me, with the situation, or something else. I almost felt bad for the poor girl. I had thought that she knew what she was getting into when she agreed to become my mistress.

The rumors that circulated about me were vicious, accusing me of being cold, unfeeling, ruthless, and lacking all emotional attachment. I would have been deeply wounded, had they not been true. Most of my interactions were either with fellow lawyers or at absolutely neccesary social situations. Ever since the death of my wife years ago, I had lost all interest in social situations. Not that her death had traumatized me. It was simply that she had been far more worried about upholding the family reputation, so we were in attendance at far more social functions than I would have preferred. After her death, I no longer saw the need to socialize, and so I made my escape.

Ours had been a marriage only of convenience, though we got on amicably. If anything, I missed her constant banter. She was the only woman I'd ever met who dared to disagree with me, and even more unusual, she would be smug about it!

I shook my head firmly to chase out all the reminicings. It served no purpose, except as a reminder that I seemed to be growing sentimental in my later years. I would have to be doubly careful not to allow my emotions free rein. Emotional attachments were messy and pointless, not to mention inefficient. It was far simpler to ignore any pulls from my heart.

Yawning, I went back to the bedroom and collapsed in the bed, falling asleep promptly.

I am on a busy street. Monsieur Marchal asked me to bring the paperwork to his office as soon as possible, so I hurry. I want him to like me. This contact will be important if I ever want to be a well-established lawyer. That isn't very important to me, but it's what my parents wish, and I have no desire to alienate them and risk my inheritance.

I hurry along, eager to give up the papers and be done for the day. As I go, I trip over something, no, someone, and go sprawling over the sidewalk. I quickly pull myself up and scramble to gather the pages together. A small pair of hands, red from use, join me, and I glance up at their owner. It is a young girl, who looks to be no more than ten but is probably closer to fifteen or sixteen, but small for her age. She nimbly gathers the rest of my papers and hands them to me, mumbling apologies. She then turns and picks up a small bumdle of sewing. Ah, she must be trying to sell her work, to earn her way in town. I quickly deflect her apologies, and then continue on my way.

When I woke up, I was confused. Dreams were not common, let alone one so vivid. It all felt so real... But no matter. There were more important things to be done. I quickly prepare to face the day and leave the house. But for some reason, the mysterious sewing girl crops up in my thoughts throughout the day. Who was she, and why on earth had I dreamt of her?

A/N: So... yeah. Long time no see. I sort of jumped into this without planning and realized that I had my work cut out for me. I want to do this story justice, so updates may be slow. If you have questions about framing, characterization, etc., feel free to message or review! I don't want to talk too much here.

Thanks for reading! :)