A different take on the Baroness. Enjoy.
Neither knew how it started but it had lasted.
For them, that counted for something. Their encounters provided something that both didn't know they needed.
The first time they met the two didn't particularly like each other. The women were too much alike. The need for absolute control consumed them as both had fought hard in the man dominated world of business and each had forged an iron will of her own.
The masks of indifference hid years of emotional scars. The walls the women had erected where in place as the first line of defense in case anyone got to close. Secretly, both had grown weary from boardroom battles and wars with husbands that sought to dominate and diminish them.
Each had a story; like women of their time, they had tried to fit into the box. Briefly, they had checked each item on society's checklist of things that as women they should desire. Wife, check, mother check, at least for Miranda that part had initially been easy. For Baroness von Hellman, the expectations of wife and the provider of an heir were daunting. As the Baron grew older so did his desire to sire a child.
They had tried to be good wives, good mothers but both found it stifling. Miranda and Elizabeth loved their girls and had conceded many things to make them happy.
Miranda had fought hard to give her girls the father and financial stability she never had as a child. When word of Stephen's divorce filing made the front page, her girls had come home in tears. Upon seeing her, they had screamed those dreaded words, 'I hate you.'
She had gripped the banister to keep from collapsing to the floor.
The next morning, they had packed their bags. Matching Hello Kitty luggage sets arranged in a neat line by the door as they waited for the car their father had sent. Miranda could only watch sadden and irritated; the asshole couldn't be bothered to come pick them up himself. Then a pang of jealousy hit her, why didn't they afford her such a luxury? Why couldn't she be a parent when convenient? Why did she always have to fight so hard for their love?
In silent horror she had watched as the slender Latino man placed their suitcases in the trunk. Her heart dropped when they slid across the leather backseat without so much as a glance in her direction. For fifteen minutes she stood by the door hoping her girls had changed their minds and would come back their little arms open with words of understanding dripping from their lips.
No such luck and she had grabbed the vase of orchids and thrown it against the wall.
Elizabeth never wanted children but when she discovered she was pregnant she had initially felt relieved. Her pregnancy would quell her husband's mood and end the talk of annulment.
As her lower abdomen grew so did her concerns; her own mother hadn't been an example to follow, and the Baroness' greatest fear was that the child would grow to hate her. The night her daughter was born she had grown resentful, she felt trapped and angry that she would no longer be the object of her husband's affections.
After taking the babe in her arms, she felt hopeful and she even smiled when she noticed her hair.
Her little girl was already a rebel just like her.
In her child's early years, she tried to shower Estella with all the affection she had desired from her own mother. But it always came off cold and often it felt unnatural. The sad thing was she didn't know how to show her emotions and she could only fake it for so long before the routine of doting mother became tiresome. What upset her was that her little girl knew.
Estella was eerily intelligent; she was after all her mother's daughter.
So, she had left the hugs and kisses to her husband. He had been elated to play the doting parent and often brought up their daughter's favoritism of him during their arguments. The screaming matches often stemmed from her refusal to have another child. Like many men of his status, he wasn't fulfilled until he had a son.
Secretly, she had always felt like a failure, she only had one person to care for and to her she had failed dismally. Fashion, creating art was the only area where she excelled and her newly founded fashion house thrived setting trends and bringing in millions.
When her daughter showed the talent and interest in fashion she made Estella her head designer. As she expressed interest in establishing her own fashion house she couldn't refuse her daughter's request for mentorship and like any good parent she had thrown her support and connections behind her.
As her daughter's notoriety grew she graciously stepped aside showing up to events as the plus one and playing the role of proud mother. She gave up London for her daughter, stepping aside from the fashion house she founded officially giving her daughter the keys to the kingdom.
The Baroness felt it was the least she could do.
It was the House of Baroness' final show before it officially became the House of DeVil.
Elizabeth was torn between the love for her daughter and the fashion empire she had created. Miranda was still devastated from the departure of her girls. That is how they found each other that night.
It had started with sketches of designs that never made it to the runway. Elizabeth had John bring them from the vault earler that day her plan had been to destroy them after the show. The editor had fingered the drawings in awe of their beauty and timeless elegance. She hummed when she got to the last sketch. The gown was backless and simple but it had a sophistication rivaled only by Chanel and Miranda ran her index finger over the signature and date at the bottom.
"Was this your first sketch?" she turned and saw the brunette watching her a sadness etched into her features Miranda knew all too well.
She slowly rose from the sofa and came to stand next to her.
"Yes, I made this when I was pregnant with Estella." She reached around the editor her full breasts contacting with Miranda's left arm. The Baroness brought another sketch from underneath the large leather-bound notebook and placed it in front of the editor.
Miranda's breath hitched. She picked up the sketch and turned to face Elizabeth.
"Genius." She breath out turning the page around.
She smiled, "well, at least you think so. According to Cruella, I am a relic, out of date with the current trend and that my designs these past few years have been stale." She sighed.
Miranda turned her brow furrowed in confusion, "Cruella?"
The Baroness waved her hands "that's her new name, Cruella DeVil." She sighed, "it's quite catchy. At least I thought so at first, it seems my daughter is trying her best to live up to the 'cruel' part of her moniker."
"Forgive me but these young designers know nothing they lack the basic understanding of beauty." Miranda stated matter of fact before looking back at the sketch. "You should archive these."
"Hmm, I might do that. Thank you." She whispered.
Elizabeth watched the American fashion maven. She had always been attracted to women but it was a different time then. It was dangerous to entertain such notions. She tried to dismiss the attraction and retreated to the small sofa. The Baroness was unaware the white-haired editor was facing a similar struggle.
Miranda had to suppress several hums and moans of satisfaction. It was refreshing to know that grace and elegance had yet to die although based on what she had seen in the last few months from the up and coming 'talent' they were in imminent danger.
But Miranda had always kept a close eye on the fashion house and its prolific founder and former head designer. Their start all those years ago had been rocky and no less than dramatic but she had come to enjoy working with the Baroness and had featured many of her clothes in Runway. The designs were as beautiful as their creator.
"These are works of art and the silhouettes are…exquisite and refreshing."
Elizabeth chuckled, "some of these sketches are older than my daughter." She stood, "would you like a drink, Miranda?"
"Yes, please."
She disappeared a moment before returning with two glasses of champagne and handed one of them to Miranda, "please sit."
For a time, the two powerhouses sat in silence sipping the alcohol and listening to the partygoers downstairs.
Miranda was curious about the woman's early retirement and decided to ask.
"Baroness," Miranda began.
"Elizabeth, please."
"Elizabeth, why retirement? You didn't seem as if you were slowing down." She took a slow sip of the champagne.
The Englishwoman sighed.
"I'm doing it for Estella, letting her shine and all. Besides its more of a forced retirement, either I step aside or my daughter cuts me off."
"I'm afraid I don't follow."
"When my husband died he left everything to Estella the title, the estates, the shipping business. Everything. My daughter found this out a year ago and gave me an ultimatum, either she would sue and leave me with only the Dior on my back or I step aside gracefully." She sighed rubbing her upper thigh as she crossed her legs.
She laughed, "I guess it was Harold's way of sticking it to me for not giving him a son," she rolled her eyes.
She looked over at Miranda and noticed the sad look on her face. She lightly tapped the fashion editor's hand.
"Don't feel bad for me, I've done very well for myself, and besides I wasn't the best mother so I probably deserve a lot of it."
Uncharacteristic of Miranda, she slowly reached for the host's hand and held it giving it a light squeeze.
"You have given her everything. You have done your best, we did our best." Her voice broke near the end and Elizabeth watched her as the fashion editor closed her eyes slightly shaking her head.
She began to pull back her hand but Elizabeth held on to it.
"I read the papers and the internet, are you well, Miranda?" Elizabeth searched the woman's eyes and saw they were stormy the dark blue orbs had a certain vulnerability in them.
Miranda quickly pulled back her hand and retreated into the firm cushion of the sofa; Elizabeth slid closer.
Miranda closed her eyes trying her best not to cry, "my girls. It's just my girls. Another father figure," she sighed deeply, "another disappointment. My girls left to be with their father. They..." she trailed off looking down in her lap. Her pride caused her to avoid the other woman's gaze.
Elizabeth took both of the woman's hands in her own and started rubbing them.
"It's not your fault. They are too young to understand."
"They understand that I am the problem. My late nights and weekends at the office is the reason I miscarried, that's the real reason Stephen left." She placed her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob.
"I can see his face now in the hospital; he didn't even ask how I felt. He just screamed at me and left." A stray tear rolled down her cheek. "But that's life. We have to give so much to make it in this world."
The brushing away of a tear turned into an embrace, then a kiss turned into groping and the two pulling at the designer gowns each wore.
Neither can remember what shifted or the exact moment. They only knew they needed it; their times together fueled each other's creativity and gave them what they needed to move on and forge ahead.
They didn't like to use the word affair. An affair was something brief that lacked passion. This had lasted for over a year now. Both were determine to make it last and allow this to lead to something more.
She trailed her nose down the other woman's neck relishing in her scent. The dark-haired woman threw her head back allowing her lover more access to the delicate pale flesh; the intricate topknot came loose cascading down her back.
She hummed when perfectly white teeth nibbled at her neck.
"Miranda." The name vibrated in the designer's throat and Miranda smiled. Elizabeth grabbed the sides of her face tilting her head back so their eyes met.
"I love you." The words were spoken low, and Miranda pulled the woman closer bringing their lips together before she whispered the words back to the Baroness.
Andy had sat near the door to the conference room the LV monogram agenda clutched tightly against her chest. Her nerves were getting the best of her, and she had started to tap her foot. The man standing next to her was the picture of calm. His hands folded in front of him his expression neutral.
Andy figured she could learn a thing or two from him. He had dealt with a powerful and domineering woman for years. She glanced up at him and caught him watching her his eyebrows raised slightly in amusement.
She cleared her throat.
"So, you come to the states often?"
"Only with the Baroness."
She nodded, he wasn't much of a talker, but she kept pushing forward needing something to drown out the moans of her boss and his.
"You like New York?"
"Yes, very much so."
She nodded again. Minutes passed before she spoke again.
"This is my first time." She inclined her head toward the wall behind her.
He chuckled, "you'll get use to it."
He turned and looked at the door, "the Baroness is quite fond of Miranda."
"Really?"
John came and sat next to her on the small couch.
"Oh yes. The Baroness has purchased a penthouse in Manhattan to be closer to her, I suppose she's in it for the long haul. She also wants to open a fashion house here."
Andy could only manage a whispered 'wow.' She was shocked.
"Well, that explains Miranda's mood…she's been different. Less difficult even with all of the press Stephen has generated following the divorce being finalized."
John was about to speak when a loud moan caused him to pause and look down the hall.
Andy rolled her eyes, "I wish those two were a little quieter luckily not too many people come through this way."
"Well, the Baroness has always been…loud."
Andy's grin was mischievous, and John quickly shook his head.
"No, no, no, not with me. The Baron. When he was alive the two would often have sex throughout the day when he was home, that's when they weren't fighting."
"Interesting. The Baroness sounds like an interesting woman."
"She is. She's extraordinary."
Andy saw the forlorn look on his face as he stared at the far wall.
She laid the planner in her lap and moved closer.
"You love her. The Baroness."
He sighed, "is it that obvious?" He looked at Andy his expression now hard as his eyebrows came together.
"Well, no but to me it is. I understand what's like, you know." It was her turn to look away.
"You love her, don't you? Your Miranda."
She tssked, "I wish she were mine."
John saw the unshed tears in her eyes; he gave her shoulder a light squeeze and stood up.
"It's quiet now so I assume they're done."
He took his original position on the side of the door and Andy quickly opened the agenda just as the door opened and the two women emerged immaculate as ever.
The Baroness didn't speak as she kept walking heading down the hall, Miranda headed in the opposite direction not sparing Andy a glance.
The young assistant stood her eyes fluttering up to John's. He gave her a small nod and followed behind the brunette. She turned and headed after Miranda catching up to the fashion editor in three quick strides.
