Only two reviews. Well, I suppose that's better than I expected. Except that the person who reviewed is a very good friend of mine. But, like Angel said, "Beggars can't be choosers." Man, I'm lame.
Charity, thank you for both your comments and your constructive criticism. I think you are very right about going more out on my own. I was just a little nervous about doing that in the beginning because people may not really know where this is coming from. But don't worry, more originality will be added. Your suggestions were very good and helpful, but the idea of Madeleine being Erik and Carlotta's lovechild . . .? Uh, no. Ewwww.
As for everyone else, read and review, please. Just a sentence or so. Or a whole paragraph if you'd like. I don't mind either way. Okay, enough desperate pleading. On with the show!
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Chapter 2
"I'm going to tell Mama first!"
"No, let me!"
"It was my idea! Besides, you're coughing up a storm!"
"I am not!" Cough.
"Are too! Save your breath to do your part, and I'll do mine!"
"But—" Two more coughs.
"Oh, would you two please stop!"
Lottie and Rose looked at their mother in despair. They had been waiting so long to tell her all they had learned about Mr. Trevor from the Baron de Castelot-Barbezac (the husband of the former prima ballerina Meg Giry), and now they were beginning to get one her nerves. Lottie decided not to waste another moment.
"The Baron called on Mr. Trevor yesterday, and he told his wife and daughers—"
"Who then told us—" broke in Rose.
"Yes, (shh!) that he is without a doubt the most amiable gentleman ever to enter our village. He adores the country, adores parties, and most of all adores dancing! He has promised the Baron that he would attend the ball at the assembly rooms on Saturday!"
"Oh, Lottie, please stop!" pleaded Christine. "There's no use in talking about him since we will never become acquainted with him."
"But all the village is talking of him! Surely you would want to know that he is in fact coming to the ball, and the Barbezacs are certain to introduce us!"
"Oh yes," muttered Christine, "what a lovely scene that would be. They will have already introduced him to their daughters. And that will be the end of it."
"Oh, Mama!"
Rose had to cough again. With every cough Christine began to fidget and fuss more and more.
"Rose, please stop coughing. You know how it tries my nerves!"
"I don't cough for my own amusement!" cried Rose, ready to burst into tears from being scolded for something she could not help, plus never having a turn to tell her mother anything about Mr. Trevor.
"He promises to bring his company of friends to the ball with him. He'll be coming with seven ladies and four gentlemen."
"I thought it was twelve ladies and seven gentlemen," interrupted Rose.
"Too many ladies," muttered Erik, who had up until then been sitting quietly nearby in their sitting room reading a book. While his attentions had for the most part remained on the book during most of the conversation, he had begun to tune in at the mention of Mr. Trevor. Now it was time for him to intervene. His comment had already caught the attention of the two girls and the wife.
"Well, I think you shouldn't worry too much about Mr. Trevor, my dears."
"Precisely so," said Christine. "After all, we'll never be acquainted with him."
"But Mama—" began Lottie.
"I'm sick of hearing about him!"
"Oh, well, that could be a problem," interrupted Erik again. "After hearing you and your complaints, perhaps I should never have called on him."
Christine whirled around in shock. "You . . . you have called on him!"
Lottie and Rose looked at each other in surprise, then looked at their father with pure glee.
"Unfortunately," continued Erik, as if this had been bad news rather than good news, "I'm afraid we will have no choice but to become acquainted with him."
Despite the fact that she was in her mid forties, Christine leapt out of her chair like a silly ballet girl and threw her arms around Erik's neck.
"Oh, my dear, how good you are to us! Oh, girls, is he not a good father? He came through for us after all!"
Erik enjoyed his wife and daughter's excitement for a few moments, then decided to excuse himself from the room before things began to go wild. Just as he was leaving, however, he quickly said, "Well, Rose, I think you can cough as much as you like now."
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Saturday came quickly for everyone in Rouen, but not too quickly for the Noir girls. Rose and Lottie had been constantly bickering and arguing about who should wear what and what belonged to whom. Although the whole idea of a ball was not as thrilling to the elder sisters as it was to the younger ones, Charlotte and Angelique had their own share of excitement.
"It would be a very lucky thing if you actually met a gentleman worthy of you, Charlotte," said Angelique as she tried to work the net of white silk stings into her hair. Their ball attire was not as fashionable as that of the people in Paris or London, but it sufficed for their own situation.
"Oh, don't worry yourself over such a thing, Angel. Let us just hope there will be enough men to go around at all!"
"You've met too many men whom you would deem worthy of yourself. Indeed, you see too much goodness in almost everyone you meet. All are well and good in your eyes."
"We shall see if that upholds tonight, then. Oh, but for goodness' sake, Angel, try to get your hair up more on the top of your head. It looks so much better that way."
Angel sighed as Charlotte began piling up her locks into one great mass. For someone with curly or wavy hair it would do very well, but Angel's hair was so straight and so silky that hardly anything could be done with it. After several minutes of fiddling, Charlotte finally sighed and left the rest to the hair's owner.
"To be honest, I'm more worried about you, Angel. You are always insistent about speaking your mind, even in public. And while we can appreciate the thoughts that come out of your head because we know you so well, most people will not find it so becoming."
Angel laughed. "I know, I know, I've been warned plenty of times. But I must admit I've gotten better over the years. Yet sometimes there is nothing for one to face but the absolute truth, even if it is not always what one wants to hear."
Charlotte merely shook her head. "Someday, Angel, one of these men will catch our eye, and then you will learn to control your tongue."
Just a few hours later, everyone was assembled for the ball at le Lion Rouge, and no one wasted any time in getting the ball under way. The only small disappointment was that Mr. Trevor had not arrived yet. However, it seemed understandable that men of great wealth and circumstance should allow—indeed, almost force—themselves to be "fashionably" late for anything. Once everyone had begun to dance, however, nearly everything else was forgotten. Lottie and Rose managed to find a partner for every dance, but most of the women there were not so fortunate. Madeleine never danced at balls, so there was no need to worry about her. Angelique, on the other hand, did enjoy dancing and was unable to find a partner for over half of the evening. Whenever she found herself alone, however, she took the liberty of either talking with Madeleine or her best friend Adele de Castelot-Barbezac, the Baron and Baroness' eldest daughter. Since both Christine and Meg (the Baroness) had been friends since their youth, it seemed only natural that the offspring remained in close relations with each other. Angelique and Adele were quite a pair. While Angelique possessed the wisdom of music and literature, Adele had great insight whenever it came to social affairs and courtships. Adele was not an idealist or a romantic, but she viewed the social intercourses between all members of the human race in a very practical manner. Angelique often found her views and observations quite amusing, but not always sound. Angelique was more drawn to ideal views of life, but did not expect a miraculous novel of love and adventure to come her way. For now, she preferred to watch the affairs of others and see how each miniature opera played itself out.
"How funny it would be," laughed Angelique at one point, "if I could write scores for each affair that we have witnessed tonight. I'm sure with the right volume and right amount of tweaking, these operas could provide us with hours of entertainment long after the ball was over."
"Perhaps," chuckled Adele. "Oh, that reminds me, you must play and sing for us at least once tonight."
Angelique sighed. "Why do you always insist on doing this? You know I am not very good."
"You have plenty of talent. You just never practice. You could be so good if only you were more motivated."
"It's true," sighed Charlotte, who happened to be standing nearby at the time. "Just hand her a violin and she'll whisk you away without being asked. Ask her to play the piano and she'll think of every excuse to leave the room."
"Oh, please, Angel?" begged Adele. "You can only improve by playing more. Just once tonight?"
"Yes, please?" echoed Charlotte.
Angel realized that either she would oblige or they would continue to press her all night until she caved. "Oh, very well. Nothing fancy, of course. Leave the playing of symphonies and concertos to Madeleine. She at least enjoys them."
She was taken to another room where those who were not inclined to dance at the moment could rest without being in the way of those who did wish to dance. There sat a piano forte, waiting for someone to awaken its voice and bring pleasure to the ears of those surrounding it. Angelique selected a nice little ditty that anyone could tap their foot to. It was no masterpiece, but no one could doubt that she served the instrument justice. She could have been a great musician if she wanted to, but Angel only wished to play for amusement rather than to show off. Madeleine, on the other hand, was a different story. It was the only thing she liked about going to a ball, and only if the same building had a separate room with a piano. She would spend days practicing on the one she had at home, constantly working herself so as to show herself off in her own way out in public. Sadly, Madeleine had neither talent nor taste. Her playing was all technique and no passion or feeling. Her singing had minimal enjoyment for anyone who was only half listening.
The first half of the evening passed very much like this, as it always did, but in the second a new breath of change passed through the halls of le Lion Rouge, and everyone stop in mid sentence and mid step. The doors of the hall had opened, allowing in a new set of socialites.
Well, somewhat.
There were two ladies and three gentlemen standing at the door, all of them dressed in very elegant attire. Almost everyone could guess that the gentleman on the right with the jovial expression and easy, open manner was doubtlessly Mr. Trevor. The Baron immediately went up to him and welcomed him to the ball. Mr. Trevor replied very graciously. The rest of his company, however, did not seem so cheerful.
Among the large crowd staring at the newcomers, Charlotte, Angelique, and Adele were trying to gain the best possible vantage point for seeing the little group. "So, the painted peacocks came after all," commented Angel. "I suppose the only cheerful one among them is Mr. Trevor?"
"Yes," said Adele, who already recognized each member by appearance.
"And the rest?" asked Charlotte.
"The two women, Miss Adler and Mrs. Musgrave, are cousins of Mr. Trevor, I believe. One of the gentlemen is Mr. Musgrave, the one with the gray hair and long face."
"And the one with the large forehead and hawkish nose?" asked Angel.
"That gentlemen is Mr. Sherlock Holmes. He is an old friend of Mr. Trevor."
Angel could not help but find some amusement in the gentleman's manner. "He looks miserable, poor soul."
"Miserable he may be," said Adele, "but poor he most certainly is not. His own wealth accumulates above that of Trevor's."
"Tell us."
"50,000 francs a year, and he owns the wealthiest estate in Yorkshire."
Just as Adele had finished speaking, the group was passing by them, and they were required to give a courteous bow. As Angel did so, she managed to quickly glance up at the aristocrats. Most of them seemed relatively unmoved by the gesture of decorum and walked on without a look. Then she noticed that the man identified as Mr. Holmes was very subtly glancing about the room and its occupants. As his eyes passed over on her side of the room, their eyes briefly met. Before Angel could even think anything, however, he quickly looked away and faced forward. This slightly surprised Angel, and it made her wonder whether he was merely as surprised that they had happened to look at each other at the very same moment, or if he was offended by her appearance instead. As she watched him pass, the stuffiness of the group and the incident itself, put together, made the situation appear very absurd. She quietly emitted a small laugh that no one else seemed to notice.
At last, after what seemed like an eternity, the newcomers finally reached the end of the hall, and everyone was able to start talking and dancing again.
Christine wasted no time in meeting Mr. Trevor and introducing him to her children. After a great deal of effort, she managed to assemble Angel, Charlotte, and Madeleine and bring them to where Mr. Trevor was standing and watching the ball. She dragged Erik along as well so that he could introduce them.
"Good evening, Mr. Trevor," said Erik as they approached the gentleman. He looked slightly uneasy as he brought Christine forward. "May I introduce my wife, Mrs. Noir."
"Good evening, madam," said Mr. Trevor in his characteristically upbeat tone.
"Good eveing, sir!" replied Christine with even more enthusiasm. "You are very welcome to Normandy, and I hope you will enjoy your time here. There are so many people to see and to meet. Speaking of which, allow me to introduce you to my charming daughters. This here is Charlotte, my eldest. This is Angelique, and this is Madeleine. And over there are Rose and Lottie, the two girls dancing in the center."
Despite the thickness of the crowd, it was hard to miss Lottie and Rose. They were dancing the most wildly of anyone else.
"Do you care to dance yourself, Mr. Trevor?"
"There is nothing I love better, madam," said Mr. Trevor. Then he turned to Charlotte. "And if Miss Noir is not otherwise engaged, may I be so bold as to claim her for the next dance?"
Angel immediately turned to Charlotte, whose eyes had widened and glistened in excitement. It was clear that she already beginning to like him. "I would be honored, Mr. Trevor."
"Thank you," he replied with a pleasant smile.
"That is very kind of you, sir," replied Christine.
Angelique was very happy for Charlotte. It was only a shame that she still could not find a dancing partner for herself. Then she spotted the gentleman's friend, Mr. Holmes, standing just a foot away from their party. He seemed to be more absorbed in looking around with his keen, grey eyes than taking heed of the people his friend had just met.
"Do you care for dancing too, Mr. Holmes?" she spoke up, trying to gain his attention.
He immediately turned her way, slightly surprised by her interruption of his thoughts. "No, thank you, I don't dance," he replied.
Angel was not quite sure how to take this. It was very difficult to determine his tone. His tone did not seem stuffy, yet he was by no means nonchalant or casual in his answer. He seemed to think it over for just a second before giving it. It was not flat out snobbery, yet there was a desire for detachment from the questioning party. That was the only sure thing in Angelique's mind when he slipped away into the crowd. It took several seconds for Mr. Trevor to realize what had happened, then he cordially excused himself and attempted to find his friend before the next dance began.
Angel spotted Mr. Trevor several times throughout the evening, and almost always in company with her older sister. It was clear that the two of them had taken a liking to each other. Poor Charlotte still felt somewhat shy, but there was no doubt that she enjoyed his company. For almost every other dance Trevor was partnered with Charlotte. He danced one dance with Adele (which made Christine nervous) and one dance with Angel. For the rest of the time he kept most of his attentions on Charlotte. There was one short period, however, in which he did not focus on Charlotte. At least not completely.
Angel was sitting in a corner by herself, without a partner once more and being forced to satisfy herself with watching other people. As she sat there, she suddenly heard Mr. Trevor's voice saying, "Come Holmes, I must have you dance!"
She hadn't even realized that Mr. Holmes was standing just a few feet away from her. Apparently he hadn't noticed either. He must have been too distracted looking everywhere else, she thought with a laugh.
"I hate seeing you standing about in this stupid manner," said Mr. Trevor. "Come, you had much better dance."
Angel managed a quick glance in their direction. She could see Mr. Holmes arching his eyebrow at his friend, then letting out a soft snort. "I most certainly shall not. You know I don't care for these sort of gatherings. It would be insupportable."
The snobbery seemed to come out a bit stronger this time, and it left a slight, sour taste on Angelique's tongue. But she was not concerned. After all, rich people could give offense whenever they wished, and therefore there was no need to desire their good opinion. But despite her reassurance, the follow part still managed to find a way to pierce her protective shield of indifference.
"Come now, Holmes, don't be so fastidious! I've never met more pleasant people or prettier girls in my life. There are some that are uncommonly pretty."
Angel didn't need to look at him to know who he had in mind when he said this. Holmes didn't need to either. "You have been dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," he said. Honesty with a touch of cynicism.
"She is, indeed, the most beautiful creature I have ever encountered," said Trevor in a captivated manner. There was not a doubt in Angel's mind that he was smitten. Then the conversation took an interesting turn.
"Wait, look over there," said Trevor. "There's one of her sisters, the second eldest I believe."
Realizing that their attention was completely focused on her now, Angelique did her best to appear absolutely unaware of their conversation.
"She is very pretty too, is she not? And I daresay, very agreeable."
"She is tolerable, I suppose," answered Holmes almost too quickly, "but she is not handsome enough to tempt me. Trevor, I'm not in the humor of giving consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. Now go back to your partner and enjoy her smiles. You're wasting your time with me."
Angelique was torn between laughing and scoffing at his cruel analysis of her appearance. Perhaps she had offended him after all when he glanced her way before. Despite the harshness of the comment, however, Angelique spoke of it to her friends with good humor. As soon as the two gentlemen had moved far away enough from her, she got up and tracked down Adele to tell her what happened. Adele found Mr. Holmes' opinion quite unfair toward Angel, but then she added, "On the other hand, you should be somewhat grateful. If he liked you, you'd have to talk to him."
Later on in the evening, however, Angelique managed to have a chance to get back at him, at least to a small degree. Christine, Charlotte, and Mr. Trevor were engaged in conversation, and soon Angelique joined up with them. Mr. Holmes also came along when Christine began to talk about the Barbezacs.
"Oh, they have a fine set of children, I daresay, Mr. Trevor, but it is only a shame that they are not a bit handsomer."
Charlotte and Angelique both looked mortified at their mother's statement. "Mother!"
"Well, you must admit that Adele is not the handsomest girl in the group. My Charlotte, on the other hand, is very handsome indeed."
"Without a doubt, Mrs. Noir," replied Mr. Trevor, although he seemed to turn a little uneasy at Christine's previous comment. Angel was still slightly annoyed when Mr. Holmes joined their little circle. Seeing him made her feel a little better, since she would hopefully have a chance to turn her vexation on him rather than on her mother.
"I remember when Charlotte was only fifteen and there was a young man who was nearly about ready to propose to her. But that, unfortunately, did not turn out as we had hoped. He wrote her a few love letters, though."
Charlotte turned slightly red at the mention of the letters. Angelique laughed. "It was another bit of proof that poetry is often the downfall of love."
Holmes gave her a questioning look. "I thought poetry was thought of as the food of love."
She turned to him. "When the passion is strong and certain, then yes; but if it is merely an infatuation with no steady ground, then the use of verse will cause the love to wither on the vine."
"Then what do you suggest," he retorted, "to make love grow?"
"Dancing," she answered, then added in a lower tone, "even if the partner in question is barely tolerable."
Although he tried to keep his expression neutral, she could see that he did not miss her meaning, and a hint of embarrassment passed over his eyes before it was replaced by indifferent coolness. It was only for a moment, but it was enough for her. Without a word, Angelique turned and walked away, only then allowing herself to smile a little. It was a mild form of revenge, but it sufficed for the time being. She was sure he did not take back his opinion, but he would be more careful about who was around and who could be listening when he decided to proclaim his opinions in a public place.
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Wow, long chapter. Yikes. So, did you like it, or did you not? Please give me any suggestions you wish, unless you think that I'm a hopeless case; then you can say that this story stinks. (Please don't go any harsher than that.) If you like it, that's okay, too. JUST LET ME KNOW! AAAAHHHH! Oh, and Happy Holidays.