The new morning brought with it energising sunshine, cloudless blue skies and a Springlike zest to the air. The asylum seemed a little less grey; the small grassland surrounding it adorned with tiny jewels of dew. The inmates were yet to be awakened, still enveloped in quiet sleep. Despite all of this blissful serenity and peace, Abbé was laying in bed, green eyes full of adversity. His stare was fixated upon the wall, knowing that a small distance away, Madeline slept. He imagined her laying in her bed, body rising and swelling with the light rhythm of sleep, chestnut hair splayed on her pillow. His heart still raged with contradictory emotions, making his stomach sink and his head pound. He felt shameful for his human reactions and thoughts, but at the same time he couldn't help but revel in getting so close to what he wanted. He had dreamt about Madeline before, being with her. Even making love to her on one occasion. Secretly, deep within him, he knew that that was what he longed for. He couldn't fail to admit that each time Maddie graced his presence he felt a heat travel all the way through his body and a euphoric haze encompass him. A flittering smile grazed his lips.
*She's probably dreaming right at this very moment.*
In actual fact, Madeline was far from dreaming. Sleep avoided her for the remainder of the night, and she ended up practising her handwriting out of boredom until she could leave for her laundry duties. Down in the laundryroom, she routinely stirred at the sheets, her mind clearly elsewhere. Her brow was slightly furrowed and her skin was ashen, devoid of its usual rosy glow. Not even the heat of the water below her could flush her cheeks. Madeline tucked a stray curl behind her ear and glanced up. She wasn't alone. There, at the entrance of the room, stood the Abbé. Madeline drew in a sharp breath and jolted.
"Abbé! I thought I was alone."
Concern was inscribed onto his face. His cassock made him look slim, girlish almost, swallowing him in black.
"I'm sorry if I startled you. I didn't mean to."
Madeline forced a nervous smile onto her face. One thought sprang with worrying force into her mind.
*He doesn't know about the Marquis...*
"Of course not. You come to see me for any special reason?"
Abbé seemed to be taken aback by her bluntness. It was a mere interpretation. Maddie hadn't meant to seem cold. It was just that she wanted to hide her anxiety about the Marquis from Abbé. She didn't want to worry him. Abbé clasped his hands in front of him and nodded his head.
"Not particularly. Just to wish you good day."
Madeline stirred at the sheets and focussed her attention onto the job at hand. At the moment, she was too panicked and tense about last night's occurrences.
"Right, finished that lot. What do you want me to do now?"
A new voice broke the silence. Madeline sighed inwardly with relief, and Abbé was grateful to receive an opportunity to leave. Abbé turned to face the owner of the voice, and was somewhat surprised at what he saw. She wasn't much younger than Maddie, but the girl carried with her the confidence of someone much older. Her fair hair was scraped back into a plait, slender hands placed on her hips as she awaited Madeline's response. Her aquamarine eyes had a certain virility and life to them, a quality that Abbé had often noted in Maddie. At her feet, a basket full of linens.
"Ah Victoria, I don't believe you've met Abbé. Victoria, Abbé de Coulmier. Abbé, Victoria."
Madeline tried to inject some buoyancy into her voice. Victoria gathered her skirts and shook Abbe's hand, clearly analysing him. Madeline noticed that he pulled away first.
"Are you new here Victoria? I don't believe I've seen you before."
Victoria dusted herself off and straightened her skirts.
"Started last week." She turned to Madeline. "What do you want me to do now? Clean some of those linens?"
Madeline went to nod, but she quickly stopped herself.
*I cannot face the Marquis.*
"I'll let you continue collecting the linens from the nearest corridor."
Victoria smiled and emptied her basket into the tub. When Madeline turned to watch her leave, the Abbé was gone.
The Marquis was watching an execution going on in the yard outside. Executions always gave him inspiration, especially when they involved some aristocrat who should really know better. He drummed his garishly-decorated fingers on the table in front of him; his quill and paper at the ready. He was expecting Madeline any minute now, coming to collect his linens on her daily round. His story had come along quite well last night- twenty pages or so, each and every one saturated in eroticism and depravity.
*Writing always seems to come so much easier when you know the characters.*
The Marquis knew that nothing had happened last night between his Maddie and Abbé. But he enjoyed making up fables to fuel his stories. Maddie and Abbé just happened to be excellent templates. One day, he would get Abbé to succumb to the emotion that he created. It wouldn't be for a long time, though. He knew Abbé too well.
*The boy is in need of-*
The thump of the execution blade halted the Marquis' thoughts. He glanced out of the window and smirked as another criminal got their just desserts. As he leant back in his chair, a bird-like voice sang through the gap in his door.
"Your linens, please."
The Marquis sat bolt upright.
*That isn't Maddie!*
He walked over to the door and peeped through the keyhole. She wasn't Maddie, but she was good as.
*Virginal little lass...not yet corrupted...*
The Marquis stooped down to the gap where the girl was crouching and smirked.
"Good morning, my dear."
The girl jumped and whipped her hand to her chest. Shock filled her eyes and panic shifted onto her face. The Marquis almost...almost felt sorry for her.
"Oh my child. I didn't mean to make you jump. Just wanted to introduce myself."
He watched as a shy, blossoming smile made its way onto the girl's face. She peeped through the slot and made eye contact with the Marquis.
"Well, hello. Can I have your linens please?"
The Marquis faked deep thought and raised his finger in the air.
"At a price."
The girl evidently considered it.
"And what would that be?"
"You tell me your name, I'll give you my linens."
The girl sighed. Clearly, she was expecting something quite horrific.
*Already she's scared of me and she hasn't read my work yet...quite an achievement.*
"My name's Victoria."
The Marquis refrained from leering at her. He slid his hand through the gap in the door. Victoria, although hesitantly, took it and shook it retiringly.
"Glorious to meet you Victoria. The pleasure's all mine."
He walked away from the door and gathered his linens, brain ticking energetically away. As she bundled the linens into her basket, Marquis could see a blush creep onto Victoria's cheeks. Despite this, she flashed him a grin and turned on her heel to continue down the corridor. As soon as she left, the Marquis dashed over to his desk and being to scrawl over the paper. He had new character to include into his story.
The air was chill and a thin sliver of the moon had started to appear in the sky. Despite the settling calm that had began to envelop the surrounding grounds, Charenton was still buzzing. Earlier, a rat had scuttled across the laundrymaid's domain and caused all manner of chaos, only eased when a suitably irritated Royer-Collard stepped in and disposed of said animal. In truth, the only reason he had attended to their troubles was his own excitement at their squeals of fright, but in the end he looked quite the hero. Madeline had stepped in towards the end of the incident, seeing the other laundrymaids cowering in corners and hitching up their skirts. Shaking her head, she dropped her empty basket onto the floor and brushed her hair from her face. She had not seen the Marquis all day, and she knew that she would have to face him tomorrow. Victoria had done it today, and had not told Madeline of any misconduct, so that surely must have been a good sign.
In all truth, the Marquis wasn't misbehaving. He wasn't threatening or intimidating anyone- in actual fact, he hadn't touched anyone. But his quill continued to dance over his dusted paper and his mind continued to tick. Flooded with contentment with his latest chapter, the Marquis clenched and unclenched his aching fingers. He rubbed absent mindedly at his hands, removing blotches and streaks of ink.
*My little vignette is coming along quite nicely, even if I do say so myself.*
Madeline had been racing through his mind whenever the quill made contact with the paper. Here she really lived. Her character was no longer virginal or virtuous, no longer had morals. In Marquis' mind, she was wretched, disgusting, ravenous. She offered herself to any man, a lowly whore with a blackened heart and burning lust. Of course, the Marquis considered such traits to be qualities. He had...tarnished the Abbé somewhat within the boundaries of his imagination.
*A man of God! His thoughts would make the saints gasp for air and the angels weep...*
A depraved sneer contorted the Marquis' features. Despite his joy at such a scandalous tale flowing from the quill, underneath his blood coursed through his veins with worrying force. Every time that he saw Abbé he imagined her with his Madeline, doing to her what he had wanted for an eternity.
*She probably doesn't even know what it all involves...*
Marquis hardly noticed that Charlotte had entered the room until she placed his tray on the table in front of him. She didn't even acknowledge him.
"Why thank you Charlotte."
Charlotte turned, her miserable features repulsed by the Marquis. He smiled at her and raised his glass.
"Cheers, you miserable whore."
Charlotte's eyes widened as she turned on her heel and stormed out. His ears expected the loud, corrosive slam of the door, but when it didn't come his eyes lifted to the doorway. There stood Victoria, a furtive expression on her flushed face. The Marquis took a sip from his wineglass and interlocked his fingers.
"Child, what on Earth are you doing here?"
Victoria scurried over to him, strands of blonde hair falling into her eyes. In one deft movement, she planted a small pouch onto his tray. She stood back, eyeing her masterpiece, hands clasped in front of her. The Marquis pulled at the strings that bound the pouch and fished inside. There, snug in the bottom, was a large emerald ring. The Marquis slipped it over his finger and held it up to the light.
"Do you like it?"
"Oh but of course, dear. Where on Earth did you get this?"
Victoria glanced at the floor.
"It was my father's. It was just that I saw you wearing your other ring and thought that you might like another."
"Oh dear heart, you Father didn't only pass on sublime characteristics. He passes jewellery aswell."
The Marquis drummed his newly decorated fingers on the table.
"How can I repay you?"
Victoria smiled and waved a nervously dismissive hand.
"You owe me nothing. It's a gift; I do not expect anything in return."
*Accept the offer, child...*
The Marquis pulled out a wedge of paper from under the current pile, a completed short story grasped between his fingers. With the other hand he pulled Victoria to him, sliding the paper into her own quivering grip.
"What is this?"
"Bedtime reading. Now go and learn."
Victoria's eyes skimmed over the pages, and one slender finger stopped in the centre of one of them.
"I do not wish to appear silly Marquis..."
*She called me by a name...oh my dear, you are progressing!*
"...but I do not understand some of these terms."
He knew what she meant. A few of his lewder similes and metaphors had slipped into said story.
"They will come to you, dear, when you are ready."
Victoria beamed at the Marquis and headed for the doorway. As she went to close the door, his voice penetrated the air.
"Oh, and by the way...the Abbé de Coulmier sends his love."
"He did?"
"Yes child." De Sade flexed his fingers and glanced at them effeminately. "He speaks very fairly of you...of your attributes."
Victoria blushed a pretty pink and a finger wrapped itself in her hair. Her lips mouthed a silent 'goodnight.' Marquis laughed to himself. The girl would have to go to Confession tomorrow after reading his little chapter.
*She's probably dreaming right at this very moment.*
In actual fact, Madeline was far from dreaming. Sleep avoided her for the remainder of the night, and she ended up practising her handwriting out of boredom until she could leave for her laundry duties. Down in the laundryroom, she routinely stirred at the sheets, her mind clearly elsewhere. Her brow was slightly furrowed and her skin was ashen, devoid of its usual rosy glow. Not even the heat of the water below her could flush her cheeks. Madeline tucked a stray curl behind her ear and glanced up. She wasn't alone. There, at the entrance of the room, stood the Abbé. Madeline drew in a sharp breath and jolted.
"Abbé! I thought I was alone."
Concern was inscribed onto his face. His cassock made him look slim, girlish almost, swallowing him in black.
"I'm sorry if I startled you. I didn't mean to."
Madeline forced a nervous smile onto her face. One thought sprang with worrying force into her mind.
*He doesn't know about the Marquis...*
"Of course not. You come to see me for any special reason?"
Abbé seemed to be taken aback by her bluntness. It was a mere interpretation. Maddie hadn't meant to seem cold. It was just that she wanted to hide her anxiety about the Marquis from Abbé. She didn't want to worry him. Abbé clasped his hands in front of him and nodded his head.
"Not particularly. Just to wish you good day."
Madeline stirred at the sheets and focussed her attention onto the job at hand. At the moment, she was too panicked and tense about last night's occurrences.
"Right, finished that lot. What do you want me to do now?"
A new voice broke the silence. Madeline sighed inwardly with relief, and Abbé was grateful to receive an opportunity to leave. Abbé turned to face the owner of the voice, and was somewhat surprised at what he saw. She wasn't much younger than Maddie, but the girl carried with her the confidence of someone much older. Her fair hair was scraped back into a plait, slender hands placed on her hips as she awaited Madeline's response. Her aquamarine eyes had a certain virility and life to them, a quality that Abbé had often noted in Maddie. At her feet, a basket full of linens.
"Ah Victoria, I don't believe you've met Abbé. Victoria, Abbé de Coulmier. Abbé, Victoria."
Madeline tried to inject some buoyancy into her voice. Victoria gathered her skirts and shook Abbe's hand, clearly analysing him. Madeline noticed that he pulled away first.
"Are you new here Victoria? I don't believe I've seen you before."
Victoria dusted herself off and straightened her skirts.
"Started last week." She turned to Madeline. "What do you want me to do now? Clean some of those linens?"
Madeline went to nod, but she quickly stopped herself.
*I cannot face the Marquis.*
"I'll let you continue collecting the linens from the nearest corridor."
Victoria smiled and emptied her basket into the tub. When Madeline turned to watch her leave, the Abbé was gone.
The Marquis was watching an execution going on in the yard outside. Executions always gave him inspiration, especially when they involved some aristocrat who should really know better. He drummed his garishly-decorated fingers on the table in front of him; his quill and paper at the ready. He was expecting Madeline any minute now, coming to collect his linens on her daily round. His story had come along quite well last night- twenty pages or so, each and every one saturated in eroticism and depravity.
*Writing always seems to come so much easier when you know the characters.*
The Marquis knew that nothing had happened last night between his Maddie and Abbé. But he enjoyed making up fables to fuel his stories. Maddie and Abbé just happened to be excellent templates. One day, he would get Abbé to succumb to the emotion that he created. It wouldn't be for a long time, though. He knew Abbé too well.
*The boy is in need of-*
The thump of the execution blade halted the Marquis' thoughts. He glanced out of the window and smirked as another criminal got their just desserts. As he leant back in his chair, a bird-like voice sang through the gap in his door.
"Your linens, please."
The Marquis sat bolt upright.
*That isn't Maddie!*
He walked over to the door and peeped through the keyhole. She wasn't Maddie, but she was good as.
*Virginal little lass...not yet corrupted...*
The Marquis stooped down to the gap where the girl was crouching and smirked.
"Good morning, my dear."
The girl jumped and whipped her hand to her chest. Shock filled her eyes and panic shifted onto her face. The Marquis almost...almost felt sorry for her.
"Oh my child. I didn't mean to make you jump. Just wanted to introduce myself."
He watched as a shy, blossoming smile made its way onto the girl's face. She peeped through the slot and made eye contact with the Marquis.
"Well, hello. Can I have your linens please?"
The Marquis faked deep thought and raised his finger in the air.
"At a price."
The girl evidently considered it.
"And what would that be?"
"You tell me your name, I'll give you my linens."
The girl sighed. Clearly, she was expecting something quite horrific.
*Already she's scared of me and she hasn't read my work yet...quite an achievement.*
"My name's Victoria."
The Marquis refrained from leering at her. He slid his hand through the gap in the door. Victoria, although hesitantly, took it and shook it retiringly.
"Glorious to meet you Victoria. The pleasure's all mine."
He walked away from the door and gathered his linens, brain ticking energetically away. As she bundled the linens into her basket, Marquis could see a blush creep onto Victoria's cheeks. Despite this, she flashed him a grin and turned on her heel to continue down the corridor. As soon as she left, the Marquis dashed over to his desk and being to scrawl over the paper. He had new character to include into his story.
The air was chill and a thin sliver of the moon had started to appear in the sky. Despite the settling calm that had began to envelop the surrounding grounds, Charenton was still buzzing. Earlier, a rat had scuttled across the laundrymaid's domain and caused all manner of chaos, only eased when a suitably irritated Royer-Collard stepped in and disposed of said animal. In truth, the only reason he had attended to their troubles was his own excitement at their squeals of fright, but in the end he looked quite the hero. Madeline had stepped in towards the end of the incident, seeing the other laundrymaids cowering in corners and hitching up their skirts. Shaking her head, she dropped her empty basket onto the floor and brushed her hair from her face. She had not seen the Marquis all day, and she knew that she would have to face him tomorrow. Victoria had done it today, and had not told Madeline of any misconduct, so that surely must have been a good sign.
In all truth, the Marquis wasn't misbehaving. He wasn't threatening or intimidating anyone- in actual fact, he hadn't touched anyone. But his quill continued to dance over his dusted paper and his mind continued to tick. Flooded with contentment with his latest chapter, the Marquis clenched and unclenched his aching fingers. He rubbed absent mindedly at his hands, removing blotches and streaks of ink.
*My little vignette is coming along quite nicely, even if I do say so myself.*
Madeline had been racing through his mind whenever the quill made contact with the paper. Here she really lived. Her character was no longer virginal or virtuous, no longer had morals. In Marquis' mind, she was wretched, disgusting, ravenous. She offered herself to any man, a lowly whore with a blackened heart and burning lust. Of course, the Marquis considered such traits to be qualities. He had...tarnished the Abbé somewhat within the boundaries of his imagination.
*A man of God! His thoughts would make the saints gasp for air and the angels weep...*
A depraved sneer contorted the Marquis' features. Despite his joy at such a scandalous tale flowing from the quill, underneath his blood coursed through his veins with worrying force. Every time that he saw Abbé he imagined her with his Madeline, doing to her what he had wanted for an eternity.
*She probably doesn't even know what it all involves...*
Marquis hardly noticed that Charlotte had entered the room until she placed his tray on the table in front of him. She didn't even acknowledge him.
"Why thank you Charlotte."
Charlotte turned, her miserable features repulsed by the Marquis. He smiled at her and raised his glass.
"Cheers, you miserable whore."
Charlotte's eyes widened as she turned on her heel and stormed out. His ears expected the loud, corrosive slam of the door, but when it didn't come his eyes lifted to the doorway. There stood Victoria, a furtive expression on her flushed face. The Marquis took a sip from his wineglass and interlocked his fingers.
"Child, what on Earth are you doing here?"
Victoria scurried over to him, strands of blonde hair falling into her eyes. In one deft movement, she planted a small pouch onto his tray. She stood back, eyeing her masterpiece, hands clasped in front of her. The Marquis pulled at the strings that bound the pouch and fished inside. There, snug in the bottom, was a large emerald ring. The Marquis slipped it over his finger and held it up to the light.
"Do you like it?"
"Oh but of course, dear. Where on Earth did you get this?"
Victoria glanced at the floor.
"It was my father's. It was just that I saw you wearing your other ring and thought that you might like another."
"Oh dear heart, you Father didn't only pass on sublime characteristics. He passes jewellery aswell."
The Marquis drummed his newly decorated fingers on the table.
"How can I repay you?"
Victoria smiled and waved a nervously dismissive hand.
"You owe me nothing. It's a gift; I do not expect anything in return."
*Accept the offer, child...*
The Marquis pulled out a wedge of paper from under the current pile, a completed short story grasped between his fingers. With the other hand he pulled Victoria to him, sliding the paper into her own quivering grip.
"What is this?"
"Bedtime reading. Now go and learn."
Victoria's eyes skimmed over the pages, and one slender finger stopped in the centre of one of them.
"I do not wish to appear silly Marquis..."
*She called me by a name...oh my dear, you are progressing!*
"...but I do not understand some of these terms."
He knew what she meant. A few of his lewder similes and metaphors had slipped into said story.
"They will come to you, dear, when you are ready."
Victoria beamed at the Marquis and headed for the doorway. As she went to close the door, his voice penetrated the air.
"Oh, and by the way...the Abbé de Coulmier sends his love."
"He did?"
"Yes child." De Sade flexed his fingers and glanced at them effeminately. "He speaks very fairly of you...of your attributes."
Victoria blushed a pretty pink and a finger wrapped itself in her hair. Her lips mouthed a silent 'goodnight.' Marquis laughed to himself. The girl would have to go to Confession tomorrow after reading his little chapter.