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Christine was waiting in Elizabeth's room when her daughter entered. She had followed her child all the way into the stables, and watched as she fled upon her fathers horse. Elizabeth had always been a brazen child, infuriated by the confines that being a 'lady' had placed on her. She had rather loudly voiced her opinion on riding side-saddle, and it was little surprise to Christine that her daughter was riding like a man, in her fine evening gown! She had allowed herself a laugh, and returned to Beth's room to wait.
She could not afford humor now. Things must change. While Christine had no desire to snuff out the spirit that set Elizabeth apart from others, she was a realist and Elizabeth must marry soon, and stop being such a child.
"Mother," Elizabeth said, surprised. There was little evidence of the adventure she had taken in the past hour, as she had deposited the soiled cloak for the maids to care for and had washed the grime from her hands. She smiled prettily. Charm was not quite as effective with her mother, as her father.
"Elizabeth, where did you go?" Christine's voice was cool and concerned.
"Just for a ride, mama." Elizabeth dropped onto her bed.
"You've got to stop this silliness, Elizabeth. We've always fostered your imagination and tried to cater to your every whim. We've allowed you the spirit that causes so much chaos because we love you and want you to enjoy life fiercely. But, my sweet child, it is time to learn to separate the two. You must behave as a woman and as a child, and each in their appropriate times. Our guests are leaving, and you were scarcely there for half of the night! This irresponsibility has got to stop, Elizabeth, really..."
Christine's voice had raised slightly toward the end, and Elizabeth sat up with a frown.
"Mother, please, don't get upset again. I am sorry."
Christine sighed. When Elizabeth had been a young child, Christine would randomly fall into bouts of depression that would leave her weeping in the darkness and solitude of her room for a weeks time. Then she would emerge as though nothing had happened and continue on. Elizabeth had come to the conclusion, as children usually do, that it was her fault somehow and even now - years since she had wept over him, her daughter feared such an event each time Christine's voice lifted.
"Elizabeth, do not chastise me. I am fine, and you will take heed to my words. It is time to behave like the beautiful young woman you are."
Christine stood and crossed to her daughter, kissing her forehead.
"Now to bed with you, then. William will call for you tomorrow, and I accepted the invitation."
Elizabeth scowled, and began to complain rather loudly as Christine stepped out the door. It was her life, why could they not just leave her be?
Nicholas awoke early the next morning. He had slept little. His dreams had been tormented by the vision of Elizabeth, the unexplainable young woman he had nearly killed the night before. The curve of her lips and hue of her curls were enchanting, and just when he thought his mind had imagined every inch of her - he'd think of another. The way she had lifted her chin defiantly, or the hesitant quiver when she had looked back. He sighed, and sat up. Better to begin the days work early and have a better chance to finish in time for a square meal tonight.
His days consisted of the same series of mundane tasks. He would rise, and after washing up himself - he would feed and water all of the animals, and then begin grooming each one. This process took several hours, and must be completed by the time the sun rose in the east. Paris was a busy city and a hansom cab was a convenient form of transportation. His Master had quite the monopoly on the business, and so everything must be in perfect order. Nicholas had all of the horses shackled to their respective cabs by the time each driver arrived from their morning meal. He would watch them all trod off into the dusty street to begin another days work. Nicholas would begin the endless round of repairs and maintenance needed to keep things running smoothly while they carried various citizens from one place to another for the better part of the day.
The only break in this routine would come when one or more of the riders were sick. Then Monsieur Carwell would rouse him early, and inform him that he would need to drive today. Nicholas welcomed this distraction. He enjoyed listening to the gossip of his fare as he toted them from one place to another.
This morning was just such a morning. Conveniently, Nicholas had already finished the early morning duties by the time Carwell came to rouse him.
"Peter is sick, and you must take his route. DeGent has requested a hansom for the better part of the morning, and you will take him." Carwell had no reason to doubt Nicholas would carefully follow his instructions, so he continued on his rounds without further discussion. As a side note, he said as he walked away. "Have Gerrie clean you up, Nicholas. I won't have you smelling as you serve."
Nicholas always welcomed the opportunity for a bath, and so he hurried into the main house were the older lady, Gerrie, with kind eyes - had already drawn him a bath.
"I found a few things that Thomas had tossed. I mended them, and I think they would fit you, Nicholas. I will leave them for you."
Thomas was the snooty eldest son of Jonathon Carwell, and remarkably close in size to Nicholas. Nicholas offered the kind lady a smile, and then busied himself with his bath. When he emerged, the visage of a dirty stable boy had been transformed. He was quite handsome in the clothing Gerrie had provided, and his raven locks were smoothly combed back, revealing the handsome structure of his face - and also the horrid disfigurement. It affected only one cheek, not the entire side of his left face. The flesh was a vicious red and bubbled as though it had been scalded with acid and left to rot. Gerrie's eyes reflected a sadness as she looked upon him. She hurried away, and returned with a soft cloth. Nicholas turned it within his hands. It was a sort of mask. A dark velvet that was cut to shield only half of his face, and a whole was cut proportionately to his eye. He smiled at her in appreciation, and tied it on.
"Thank you, Gerrie." It really was a poor replica of an ivory mask that had existed in another time, another place.
To finish the outfit, Nicholas donned a hooded cloak - and of course pulled the hood. With his Lords approval, he hopped behind the reins of the hansom and was soon off toward the DeGent estate - quite possible the finest home in all of Paris. The boy who entered the cab there was nothing of not aloof, simply instructing Nicholas onward toward the DeChagny estate.
When they arrived, Nicholas waited patiently - observing the flutter of butterflies about a particular tree in the front lawn. He wondered what it was about the pink buds that enticed the creatures so, as it seemed dozens of them hovered near it. Nicholas could hear speaking, and it sounded like a bit of conflict. He paid little mind, watching the butterflies as they moved en masse to hover over the walkway. The snobbish William DeGent would have to scatter them to get through, and Nicholas smirked at the idea.
The figure that imposed itself through the beautiful flutter of multi-colored wings was not masculine at all, however. It was Elizabeth, his Elizabeth. She was dressed in a more simple dress that still hugged every curve. The pale blue accentuated her porcelain countenance and William dropped the reins. She was a.. a.. DeChagny! His heart was pierced with the revelation. Any fancy he may have had about ever meeting with her again was shattered. She could not be further out of his reach.
She was escorted by William into the hansom, and as they settled - Nicholas remembered himself and brought the cab to a roll. He glanced towards the massive estate where Elizabeth must have grown up, and seen a woman who looked remarkably similar to Elizabeth standing in the doorway with a saddened expression. It must be her mother, Nicholas thought - glancing down through the portal in the top of the hansom. He could see the curls bounce with the horses stride, and sighed. This would be a long day.