Bouquet

(C) Intelligent Systems and Nintendo

-0-

Elegant Arrangements in Priceless Vases, or, A Story Told in Six Movements

Fourth Movement: Viscaria
(will you dance with me?)

While Louise had never debuted and now would never need to, she was familiar with the parties held by Allowellian nobles due to her father's influence in the county. There was a sparseness to their parlors that was abhorred in Aquleia but celebrated in the homeland of the Lighter Eliminean denomination of the faith, a delicacy in interior design that Louise truly felt resonated with her own taste. Compared to that, Aquleia's townhouses and her grandfather's manor felt cold and cluttered, almost mercenary in their display of the most desired and trendy objets d'art with which to attract the attention of other people for the sake of reputation. That was, in fact, exactly how her grandfather put it to her; he eschewed displays of wealth but felt beholden to act in the very same way he despised due to his titles and social position.

Although her heart felt isolated from such tactics, she could not help but admire Castle Reglay's ballroom. It's so glamorous, Louise thought in wonder, fighting the urge to stop and simply take in the beauty of it all.

Crystal chandeliers hung high above the room, tiers upon tiers of candles working together to grant the room the gift of light. As the ballroom was on the second floor of Castle Reglay's east wing, glass doors framed in light wood led to the outer balcony area, though the late winter month coupled with the usual night chill common to central Etruria kept the doors closed this night. And, despite the month, there were fresh bouquets of flowers tastefully combined in what her untrained eyes saw as simple vases but her mind, as befitting the daughter of a woman who loved jewelry to an almost disconcerting extent, knew instinctively as being priceless. These vases stood upon small tables set here and there against the walls; not enough to crowd the room, as wide as it was, but not too few for the ballroom to seem inadequately decorated. There were musicians set up in one corner: the violinist and harpist were de rigueur for these events, but what drew a gasp from quite a few of the guests behind herself and Lord Pent was the sight of a real, live piano, a very recent invention to the musical world that only Etruria could have ever produced. It was made from a richly colored wood Louise could only assume was maple, with accents of gold at its feet and along the large raised rim. During her visits to the castle she had always admired everything it had to offer, from the great hall to the outdoor gardens to the gallery, but it was not until her gaze alighted upon the sight of the piano that she fully comprehended what it meant for Lord Pent to be head of one of the oldest and most powerful houses in Etruria. She glanced at his profile--how did he see this very room? How did he see the rare objects all around him? If these were as nothing to him, then wasn't her birthday gift to him quite silly in comparison?

His profile gave nothing away, but she wondered. Oh, how she wondered. But that was part of Lord Pent's charm. Certainly she was drawn to him in part because of the mystery he presented.

As if he had noticed her gaze, she felt his attention become directed to her, though he only tilted his head ever so slightly in her direction. "Do you like it?" he asked, though there was a bit of a pause that she imagined hinted at an unseen vulnerability--was he seeking her approval, or was he asking just for the sake of polite conversation?

"It's so very grand, Lord Pent," she answered, squeezing his arm a little in a comforting gesture. "No wonder you were so busy! The planning for all of this must have taken ages!"

"Oh, do you think so?" The question's companion was a slight smile. "I agree. I had to sign so many bills over this. It seemed like every servant had something to contribute regarding this whole affair."

"You...didn't plan any of it?"

His smile disappeared. "This was not in my plans at all. Remember? I am just very accommodating, apparently."

"Ah." She glanced around. "Then, do you dislike it?"

"No, I can't say that. I just..." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter what I think. Now, we have the first dance, right? Shall we?"

Louise smiled as he led her to the center of the room, though she felt very conscious of all the eyes on them as the many guests to the party circled around them. She wouldn't be surprised if her mother had already found a chair along one of the walls and was once again enjoying her book, a thought that had her smiling more widely in unsuppressed amusement. That smile suffered a bit of a swoon when Lord Pent put one hand high upon the side of her ribcage, his fingers molding admirably over the circumference from her side to her back. The presence of such a solid touch unnerved her, even though they had practiced so dutifully in the past week and a half. She was slow to put her left hand on his shoulder now that she was vividly aware that he was right before her, that she would only have to lean forward to have her chest pressed up against him even with the flattening effect of her tightened corset. Her breathing became rather more shallow than she would prefer, or that was healthy for that matter, and she was only roused when she felt him take her free hand in his. His hand was warm, even through her glove, and she sent a desperate prayer to the heavens that she wouldn't begin to sweat through the thin white silk.

"Louise?" she heard him say. "Are you all right?"

She had been staring resolutely at the gold buttons of his princely coat, but at the sound of his voice she felt obligated to look up into his eyes. The concern on his face was enough to make her shake away the sudden nervousness that had overwhelmed her. "I-I'm fine, Lord Pent. And yourself?"

He made a face, one of such comical exasperation that she had to blink to see if her vision was playing a strange trick on her. Yet, it was still there afterward. "If we survive this dance, you needn't ask again. And if we don't--"

"Then we're exceptionally poor students, wouldn't you say so?"

Lord Pent's eyes widened in surprise. She was about to apologize for talking out of turn when he began to chuckle. "Exactly. Let's make Madame proud, even though she isn't here to see us tonight."

Louise nodded, her nervousness mostly controlled by a new rush of anticipation. "Yes, let's."

With a nod from Lord Pent, the music began.

-0-

Though he was far happier once they had finished their dance, Pent had to admit that dancing with Louise wasn't unpleasant. He was not a confident dancer, but they moved without embarrassing themselves and survived the experience. He watched as other couples joined on the floor to perform the Etrurian waltz, guiding Louise away from the twirling couples until they found freedom among the non-dancers, who had gathered in small groups to wile away the time with their gossip. Glancing down at Louise, he noticed the smile lingering on her profile and felt more...refreshed, he supposed. Leaning down to keep his words between them alone, he commented, "I suppose we've passed."

Louise laughed softly. "I was nervous, but I was also excited. I wouldn't mind doing that again."

It seems you might get your chance sooner than you expected, he thought with some wariness as two women approached them. The younger, an auburn-haired woman with a demure expression he couldn't trust, looked familiar; the other woman was definitely her chaperone, though he couldn't ascertain their relationship otherwise. "Ah, Lord Pent," started the chaperone, "you were magnificent, just as expected. You can make anyone look good through your superior talent."

Any pleasant feelings he had before had now vanished into the ether. "That certainly isn't true. I'm very grateful to my fiancée for her patience." He felt, through their linked arms, Louise start at the word he used to describe her--truth be told, he felt strange using it himself. "I'm not sure if you've met her, but this is Louise Émile."

"How do you do? It's quite amazing what they've done here, isn't it?" Louise said with the barest hitch. A look of annoyance crossed the auburn-haired woman's face, confirming Pent's suspicions.

"It's to be expected of the greatest noble house in Etruria, of course."

"Oh, yes," Louise agreed in a tone so serene Pent knew that, if spoken from another person, it would sound horribly insincere. "It's due to everyone's hard work within House Reglay."

The chaperone made an exasperated noise. "Anyway, we wanted to wish you well for your birthday, Lord Pent. On the behalf of my husband, Baron Tilley, I wish to express our greatest desire for your great family to thrive and prosper. Surely your father is looking down from heaven with all the fondness in his heart."

If that's true, I think I've just been insulted, Pent thought with a shade of dark humor. He attempted a smile. "I thank you for your kind words, Baroness."

"Now, perhaps you'll think this a poor gift, but my niece is an excellent dancer." Baroness Tilley laughed, the sound as sharp as broken glass. "You've actually seen her before, during that little event you held last spring. Doesn't her beauty capture your eye? With her maturity and talent, she would certainly do everything she can to please your noble personage."

For the second time of the night, he was incredibly grateful for his ability to hide his feelings from his face--he wasn't sure whether to simply be incredulous, or to actually follow the line of thought the baroness was shamelessly dangling in front of him and add dismay and embarrassment as well. The worst part was when he glanced at Louise and found her looking up at him so innocently, as if she expected him to accept the offer of...a dance. Straining himself to smile wider, he said, "Forgive me, but I have to decline. This party is actually a shared birthday celebration between Louise and myself, and it wouldn't do for me to stray from her side tonight."

"Oh, but I'm sure Miss Louise wouldn't mind," the auburn-haired woman spoke up, her smile appearing as tense as his own felt. Louise, agreeable girl that she was, nodded.

"Oh, not at--"

"I mind," he said as pleasantly as possible. "Good night." As gently as he could, he urged Louise to follow beside him as he turned around to return to the dance floor. She followed willingly enough, but when they found an empty area to get into position for the next dance he could feel her gaze upon him as he reached for her hand. "Louise," he began, a little too conscious of the pulse of his wrist pressed against the side of her...her chest as he put his right hand just underneath her arm, "I'd like to ask you a question."

"Certainly."

"Do you know what the word 'innuendo' means?"

The look on her face was akin to the same look that would bloom on his fellow students' faces whenever they were given a question they couldn't even begin to understand, let alone answer. There was almost always a sort of peace within that expression, before it inevitably settled into panic. In Louise's case, there was no panic, only a question lingering in her eyes. He did not want to answer it. "No," she said after a long moment of silence. "Is it a bad word?"

"No, it's--" He thought about it, and when the next song began to play he moved almost absently, aware of Louise's attention. "How about the phrase 'double entendre'?

"Oh, yes," she answered easily. "It's Estrucan, to say one thing while implying something else. My mother says one can't speak of Uncle Aramis' life without using double entendres, but I'm not sure why."

Pent raised an eyebrow at this. "Oh, well, I was just curious. But, you do realize the baroness and her niece were being unkind towards you?"

They moved with some grace in silence along with the other dancing couples for a few counts Pent realized he didn't need anymore before Louise spoke again. "I suppose they were, weren't they? But perhaps it's understandable, since I was the one who won the right to your hand. I think there are a lot of people who feel very insulted about that."

The wistful tone she was now speaking with touched off something within Pent, which he could only assume was a strong desire to cheer her up and keep her the bright, earnest girl he was learning to keep by his side. "That isn't something you should feel bad about. You won, so to speak, on your own merits. It's a subjective contest to begin with, and it doesn't lessen any of the other women to not be chosen by me." Louise pursed her lips at this.

"I wonder if that's really true."

"What do you mean?"

"You're a very important man, even if...even if you don't like what you do." That she remembered touched him, though he wasn't inclined to vocalize it, if only for his own sake. "The meaning your title holds is...it's important, so important. It's...to some people, it might be bigger than you." She looked away from him, her expression almost withdrawn. "That's sad."

"It is," he agreed. "What do you think I should do about it?"

She returned her gaze to him again, the color of her eyes not as vivid as it was during daylight. Suddenly, he wanted to add more candles to the ballroom. In a serious tone she said, "I think you should dance."

He blinked. "With that other woman?"

"Well..." Her teeth worried at her bottom lip, and for some reason the action made him feel strangely nostalgic--had he seen her do that before? "Actually, I'd rather you danced with me."

Such an honest girl, he thought with amusement as her cheeks seemed to darken, even if the candlelight made such suppositions suspect. Sweet, honest Louise. Who could possibly not see her worth? But it wasn't like him to reveal his thoughts so openly, so all he said was, "I can do that," and led her as they twirled with the other couples on the floor.

-0-

It surprised her, it really did, that she could find herself relaxing in Lord Pent's hands as one dance melted into another, the passing time as fluid as the small rivers of her homeland. She had assumed that, once at the ball itself, she would find herself a clumsy, unsuitable mess of a girl, but this was patently untrue. It was also untrue that she would find herself transformed into a graceful butterfly of a woman, gliding across the floor with all the maturity and elegance of her fifteen years of age. In the end, whether or not she had the blessing of his hands upon her, she was still Louise.

She was happy.

After two more dances they left to seek refreshment, though she couldn't help but notice Lord Pent's wary gaze in case they might be ambushed again. His careful expression was a sight to behold on his features, more masculine than feminine but with a touch of beauty that made it difficult for her eyes to stray from his profile. Were he to grow out his neatly-cut hair, she wondered if he might be even more pleasing to the eye than he already was. Oh! Although she felt awkward thinking on these things overmuch, she could not say that she disliked it, exactly. One day, after all, she would find herself married to this man, tall and lean and seemingly unconscious of his looks, and she knew it was far better to find herself attracted to him than not. But--how should she deal with these feelings?

She found herself distracted from her ponderings when a woman approached them, her dark olive gown more appropriate to a married woman than one unmarried (yet far less matronly than her mother's style of dress). When Louise glanced at Lord Pent again, she found that his expression had lightened somewhat; apparently, he was already acquainted with this woman. "Countess Caerleon, it's a pleasure to meet you again," he greeted, something of a smile on his face.

"Lord Pent, I'm sure I've told you this once before, but please call me Nella," Countess Caerleon said. Louise tilted her head in confusion--where had she heard that name before? She hadn't more time to think on it when the countess focused on her. "That goes for you too, Lady Louise."

"Ah, well met," Louise said, straightening her posture. Although she knew she should not be surprised at being recognized, it made her happy.

"Your husband isn't here tonight?" Lord Pent asked, discreetly looking around the room. Lady Nella laughed.

"Oh, no, he's with the children. The nanny had time off and we hadn't realized until it was too late to arrange other help. He wishes the both of you well in the next year, of course."

"Ah. Please send him my regards."

The conversation seemed to die and Louise, who found herself liking Lady Nella, strove to resurrect it. "Lady Nella, do you have many children?"

Lady Nella looked mildly surprised. "Oh, I'd thought you'd already know. There's Estelle and Mamie, eleven and nine, as well as our resident lordling Nate, who is four. They're from my lord husband's previous marriage to my sister, who passed away in childbirth. Then there's dear Priscilla, who turns seven this coming March, who we took in as our own. Then there's this little one," she finished, patting her flat stomach. "He'll be out in late summer."

"My, how wonderful!" Louise exulted merrily. "It must be wonderful to have such a big family!"

Laughing, Lady Nella waved one hand in dissent. "Only when they stand still, which is never. But tell me, how is your mother?"

Louise stared at Lady Nella, then remembered. "Oh! You're Mother's 'dear Nella,' aren't you? Forgive me, I didn't remember! Mother is doing well, though I think she'll be happier once she's reunited with Father. I think she's been reading that book you sent her on behalf of the Hôtel de Rhubarbe."

"Ah, she's the same as always then." A fond look came over Lady Nella's charming visage, a round-cheeked beauty Louise was admiring more by the minute. "Tell her I said hello. Hmm...perhaps in the future you might like to begin a correspondence with me? You're even lovelier in person than your mother ever deigned to say."

"I'd love that," Louise responded with haste. "You're Mother's great friend, after all."

Lady Nella smiled, brushing one of her flame-red ringlets from her shoulder. "Wonderful. Expect a letter from me soon, dear. I'll leave you two alone now. Good night, Lord Pent, Lady Louise."

"Good night to you, Lady Nella," Louise seemed to say for the both of them, as she had seen Lord Pent nod out of the corner of her eye. They watched her walk to a group of guests and begin insinuating herself with them before Louise turned to him. "She's very nice, isn't she?"

"Hm, she is," he answered. "But why doesn't she go to your mother, instead of asking you to pass on her greetings? Your mother is very visible where she is."

Louise turned her head towards her mother's direction, where her mother was sitting in one of the chairs beside a table with a flower-filled vase and calmly reading. "My mother will not be acknowledged by anyone here," Louise stated. "Certainly not in friendliness. That will undoubtedly ruin their reputation." She looked at Lord Pent, who only showed a small frown at her words and nothing more. To this, she could only tug at his arm to capture his attention again. "I don't like it, but my mother knew the consequences. That only makes her all the more amazing to me. Please, try and think of it that way, too."

"Hm." He didn't look convinced. Shaking her head, Louise gestured to the dancing couples.

"Shall we dance again, Lord Pent?"

He smiled slightly at this and allowed her to pull him to the dance floor. Even if he remained unconvinced, Louise decided that it was enough for him to attempt to understand. The decisions of the past generation had granted rewards that stood ever tall now; so too would the consequences. She felt down to the marrow that it was unfair, though her mother, devastating cynic that she was, would only say that life was unfair.

Of course, to Louise that only meant that she should grab happiness wherever it presented itself, no matter what.

-0-

It was sometime after he realized that he had trouble feeling his feet except for the constant throb that went through them that Pent acceded to his body's wishes and escorted Louise from the floor. As he had no interest in repeating the same incident that had caused him to flee to the dance floor, he looked around until he noticed the doors that led to the balcony. "Would you like some fresh air, Louise?" he asked, hoping for an affirmative answer. When she nodded, one hand on her chest in a way that suggested she was trying to catch her breath, he gently guided her to the glass doors. He always kept a set of keys to every nook and cranny of the castle just like his father once had, and with them he opened the door with a thick-sounding clok.

"My, it's cold!" Louise announced as she left his side; he closed the door before following her. Although the night sky was moonless and the stars were hidden behind a thick cover of clouds, the room they had just departed gave him enough light to watch Louise cover her lower face with her hands.

"Do you want to go back inside?" He didn't think it was that cold, other than the slight wind that brushed past them just as he reached her, but that was the blessing of developed magical talent.

She shook her head, lowering her hands quickly as she folded them in front of her full skirts. "Oh, not at all. The cold is quite refreshing." Raising her hands, she placed them on the top of the balcony wall that separated her from the open sky as she peered over the rim. "Oh, I had no idea we were so high up!" she said, her voice high with what he imagined to be delighted fright. Standing next to her, he looked over and saw darkness.

"Can you really see the ground?" he mused aloud, somewhat skeptical, before he looked at her. With the light he could see a smile playing across her lovely features, but he couldn't see the color of her eyes at all. For some strange reason, he felt a curl of displeasure at that, as if her face lacked something just because he couldn't see one feature. But then, he reasoned, she had large eyes, and the color of her eyes was one of the most vivid sights he had ever witnessed. Then, he thought about it further. "I suppose I've never heard of a near-sighted archer," he admitted, amused when she grinned at his words. "You're enjoying yourself, I see." She giggled at this, a worthy answer if he ever heard one.

When she turned her head to look out into the sky, he could not help but admire her profile, with her small nose sticking out so cutely. The thought surprised him, if only because he was not in the habit of remarking upon, even to himself, the quality of women's noses. But he had known all along that Louise was a lovely girl, and seeing her tonight as the contours of her slender yet curvaceous body were revealed in her dress had caused him to realize that she was already a woman as far as her body's maturity was concerned. He hadn't considered it too much before, at least not to the extent that he would admit to himself, but now that this evidence was before him he knew he was always going to have this image of her in his mind, Reglay crest and all.

He watched her fold her arms on the rim of the balcony wall as she leaned forward; thankfully, as the top of her head barely reached his shoulder, he didn't have to worry about her leaning too far forward without being impeded by the wall. "Lord Pent," she said, her voice soft, "tonight has been so, so much fun." Turning her head to look at him meant that he could see her full smile aimed up at him. "I believe you've been enjoying yourself too?"

"Of course," he answered. "I have to admit that I was worried, but it all seems to have gone over well enough."

She laughed behind her hand. "Maybe even better than that."

Smiling, he said, "Perhaps."

Another breeze drifted past them, Louise shivering in its wake. He brought a hand up to his coat, wondering if he should offer it to her, if that was too intimate or if she would rather return to the ball; though he wanted to remain outside where there was just her and him and the darkness of a February night, he found acquiescing to her wants was far more agreeable than, say, his steward's. Louise rarely asked him for anything and she seemed to seek his approval, which was quite different from the demands placed on him by everyone else. But he supposed that was adulthood, and within the week he would be seventeen and undeniably a man in his own right. Touching his coat reminded him that he kept his gift to her with him, the small, thin package securely tucked inside. He wondered if he may as well give it to her now, considering that if he did so before she retired to bed her mother might hover over her. As much as he liked Lady Catherine, his accidental slip earlier probably had not endeared him to her.

That decided the matter for him. "Louise, it may be earlier than I had planned, but--"

"Lord Pent."

Her voice was urgent; when he looked at her he saw that she was facing the doors that led back into the ballroom. He looked, and through the glass panes he noticed that there was a crowd gathered further inside the room, their backs facing the balcony doors. Frowning, he reached for Louise's hand. "Interesting behavior for guests, I think," he tried to say in a light tone, but he was too worried for it to sound like much of a joke. Louise looked too concerned to even respond, and so he gave up on humor and began to head for the doors.

And he had been having such a good time, too.

Fifth Movement: Rhododendron
(danger)

Everyone who met her and had the opportunity to spend a day or two around her never lacked the courage to inform her of her sensitive nature. As it was indeed true, Louise never found fault in the words, often agreeing with a smile. It was not a shameful thing; indeed, a part of her cherished that part of her personality. It drew her to others.

It had drawn her to Lord Pent.

However, it did have its downsides, and now she felt it most keenly as her stomach churned with discomfort and nervousness as she followed alongside Lord Pent, whose expression was even more blank than usual. They reached the outer boundary of the crowd with ease, as most of the guests had long since left the dance floor for whatever had interested them now, but it was quite another thing entirely to enter the crowd itself. Her diminutive stature made surpassing the crowd her only option, but Lord Pent seemed to be just tall enough to see what lay ahead; when she glanced at him there was a most strange expression set on his face, one she had never seen from him during her few times with him. She heard a low voice tinged with anger, a man's, then another voice.

Her mother's.

Louise flinched, then looked at Lord Pent. Why won't he move forward? she thought. What's happening? What's wrong with Mother? She tugged at his hand in silent pleading, drawing his attention. When he saw the look on her face his eyes widened before he looked ahead again, his profile filled with purpose. "Pardon me," he said, and it was enough for the people blocking their way to move aside with all haste. As she walked forward she gripped his hand, steeling herself for what she would see--whatever it was, she could bear it.

The voices, the unknown man's as well as her mother's, grew more hostile as Louise neared them. There were so many people watching this, whatever it was, that she felt humiliated on behalf of her mother, that intensely proud woman who kept her affairs to herself when she could help it. Her worry rising within her like a soaring arrow, she looked to Lord Pent again, wondering desperately what he saw. He did not look happy, but suddenly his eyes widened and he hurried forward and Louise, panicking, followed his gaze--

There was only that man's back and a glimpse of her mother's small hand as it rose up and hit the man's face with all the resounding fury of thunder.

Louise turned her head away from the scene as if she had been scalded. All had gone silent save for the soft strains of music, almost disrespectful in the moment.

If anyone recovered first, it was the man who had been violently manhandled by her mother. Louise saw him through the corner of her eye, difficult as it was for her to face the scene before her, as he straightened his back and turned around. The man was not familiar to her, not his chestnut brown hair nor his dark eyes, but when his gaze fell upon her something dark and unbidden crossed his face and she cringed further, too confused to do much more than act on instinct. This strange man strode up to Lord Pent and paused there, evidently telling him something that did not appeal to his interest; Lord Pent's expression grew grave, then he seemed to flinch before turning to the man, who was already making his way through the crowd. Many of those watching the confrontation seemed to waver before falling away, with some of those clinging to that unfamiliar man's side. Conversely, her mother was left alone, and when Louise raised her head and her gaze met her mother's, she saw something there that should never belong on her mother's face. That stricken expression with that shame lingering in her mother's eyes--she hated it as with as much vigor as Louise had ever cared to expend.

That look didn't belong on her mother's face no matter what she had done!

"Mother," Louise started, reaching out for her. Her mother stood still, even when Louise put her hands on her mother's narrow shoulders and squeezed, trying her hardest to give her mother all the support she could. "Mother," she started again, but her mother was not looking at her but instead past her.

"Please forgive me, my lord," her mother said, her voice strong and without a waver--so like her mother, except for the words. "I was unforgivably careless and acted rudely towards your guest."

"I don't care about that," said Lord Pent in a voice just as loud. "How are you feeling?"

Her mother smiled, lips thin and pale. "I think I will retire to my room now. I have shamed you enough." Louise stared at her mother, uncomprehending.

"If that is your wish, please do as you like. But you will be missed." Louise glanced at Lord Pent; his voice was loud, his tone even--he was obviously telling the truth. But her mother, her dear mother, only pulled away from Louise until she was left holding nothing at all.

"Louise, stay by Lord Pent's side until you wish to return to your room," said her mother in a low voice. "It will be easier for you if you don't stray from him. And...I'm sorry." With those words, her mother turned and left the room, not even remembering to pick up her discarded book from the chair she had adopted as her own. All Louise could do was stand in place, the feeling in her chest all wrong for tonight, all wrong for the fun she and Lord Pent had shared, absolutely all wrong!

And the worst part was, she had no idea what had brought this change about. All she could do now was detest it with the utmost impotence, because it would forever leave a bitter taste in her mouth whenever she recalled it in her mind.

The night was effectively over.

Sixth Movement: Camellia
(gratitude)

Pent escorted Louise to her room in silence. Earlier he had felt refreshed; now he felt worn and tired. Their camaraderie had fled, perhaps to return at a later date, and Louise kept her head bowed and hidden from his gaze as she clutched her mother's book to her chest. He knew that he had no right to intrude on her feelings, and even if he did he couldn't begin to form the right words for--for what, exactly?

He exhaled softly, his mind drawing a blank. That said it all.

They reached the rooms she had been staying in with her mother and their maids, Louise by the door as she dipped her body in a limp curtsy. "Thank you for tonight, Lord Pent," she said, her eyes not quite meeting his face. "I had a wonderful time."

Pent let the slight lie pass without comment, more perturbed by her lack of eye contact. "Louise, I..." he started before realizing he still had no idea as to what he could say. At least when he was quiet at the balcony he felt far less anxious. "Oh, I have your present," he remembered. Louise looked confused in the low light of the hallway, then her expression brightened--a far cry from the girl he was getting used to, but better than before.

"I have your gift too, in my room. Let me go find it--I'll be right back!" With growing exuberance she opened the door and entered, leaving the door ajar behind her. He removed his present to her from the confines of his coat, studying the plainly-wrapped object with some anxiety.

I hope she likes it, he thought. The first thing that came to my mind when I found it at that store was that it'd be perfect for her, but I may have been too hasty in my decision. I was a little desperate at that time.

He barely heard the muffled footsteps that marked her return before he found himself staring at her wide-eyed gaze. "Here, Lord Pent," she said, holding with both hands a small square box towards his face. "I, I truly hope you'll like it." Taking it from her, he placed the rectangular wrapped gift in her small hands without a word, mainly because he really had no idea what to say at a time like this other than the requisite words of gratitude. That, and he was curious to see what Louise would think a 'perfect' gift to him would be; after all, it wasn't shaped like a book.

Untying the thin ribbon used to hold the box and lid together, Pent lifted the lid and looked inside. It seemed to be a piece of cloth resting within, and it was with some bemusement that he put the box on top of the lid and took out the cloth with his free hand. He heard the crinkling sound of the paper wrapping being removed from the gift he had given to Louise just as he unfolded the cloth, her small sound of happiness coinciding with his amusement as to what he had discovered.

It was an embroidered personal napkin, the blue cloth similar to the shade House Reglay had claimed as its dominant color centuries ago. Gold stitches formed an inner line a few centimeters from the hem, and in one corner she had created a passable facsimile of his family's crest. Though some of the stitches were uneven, he could clearly see the effort she had expended to create this gift for him, and he was touched that she would prefer to make something with her own hands rather than to purchase a gift. It made him feel as if the value of their gifts were unbalanced; at least, until he looked at Louise and saw the wide smile on her face.

"Lord Pent." Her voice wavered with emotion as she held up the packet of stationery he had bought for her. "This paper is so thick and smooth, and the color is so pleasing to the eye. It must have cost so much..."

"Its value is nothing compared to your words," he interjected, before wondering if what he had just said sounded really good or really manufactured. Judging by her shocked expression, it was up to debate.

"You really like my letters?" she asked, her tone hesitant. He nodded, and then wondered if he had done something wrong when she lowered her head. "That makes so happy, I'm really..." When she trailed off, Pent couldn't help but grow slightly concerned.

"...Are you all right?"

"I am!" she announced with new vigor as she lifted her head. "And you, do you like your gift? I've been working on it since late last year, but I don't quite have the steadiest hand for embroidery. It...doesn't offend you, does it?"

He almost laughed at her now shy demeanor, solely out of amazement rather than anything negative on his behalf; she spent months working diligently on this gift, and she thought he would be offended? What was wrong with the world, when people were more apt to be nervous rather than proud over their fruits of labor? "I like it very much," he assured her. "It's quite impressive. I had no idea you did embroidery."

"I prefer the bow to the needle, but when I got into the mindset for it I enjoyed it more than I thought I could." She looked away for a moment, then seemed to nod to herself before returning her attention to him. "I know you're still uncomfortable with the role you now command, but I think you should be proud of it. You don't have to be your father to be a good Count Reglay, you...you just have to be Lord Pent."

"Really?" he mused. She smiled at him.

"Yes, absolutely."

Her words were lovely sentiments, quintessentially Louise in how they appealed to him, but of course his doubts remained. He took care to shield them from her, unwilling to disappoint her estimation in him; for now, he decided a change in discussion was necessary. "Well then, Louise, tomorrow I should have more free time. Would you like the cake for breakfast?"

She looked so horrified at the thought that he could do nothing but laugh; her pouting face only made it easier for him. "Oh, must you really tease me about that?"

"You looked so depressed at dessert that I couldn't help but remember."

Crossing her arms, she looked resolute. "For that, Lord Pent, tomorrow let me instead show you the cooking skills of a lady of Alloway."

He paused. "You can cook?"

"Well," she said with a smile, "you'll just have to see. Good night, Lord Pent."

"...Good night," he responded, wondering if he had just been threatened. She returned to her rooms, the door clicking shut behind her, and he found himself looking down at the embroidered cloth napkin for a moment before walking back to his own room, absently tucking the napkin into his coat as he did so.

-end-

Thank you for reading! Please don't be afraid in commenting if you have something to say; I really like reading everyone's thoughts. The next story will be delayed while I go back and edit the previous stories--I know I wrote the first three stories a year ago, but they already look a little sad now.

Hôtel de Rhubarbe: Between the 16th-18th centuries in France, many salons appeared; these were places where educated men and women gathered to discuss literature, art, politics, and other such things. While the word salon is in reference to the room in a house where these meetings were held, as the trend grew they began to be held in larger premises, and with that came more extravagant names. Hence, Hôtel de Rhubarbe. The Victorian flower meaning of rhubarb is 'advice'; this particular salon is for aspiring writers to receive input on their manuscripts.