Bouquet

(C) Intelligent Systems and Nintendo

-0-

Flower Tea and Salad Days: Coral Honeysuckle, Clove Pink, White Hollyhock
(the color of our fates--what dignity we found through female ambition)

Pent suppressed a yawn as he headed for the library. Without Louise, who had gone to the kitchen after breakfast with her sister-maid to fulfill her promise (or threat, he still wasn't quite sure) of baking a cake, he found himself gravitating towards the one room in the castle where he could relax. Because of the planning for the ball, he was behind on his schedule to finish the second draft of his paper, which had been roundly thrashed not due to his dispassionate theorizing of light magic's system like he had expected, but rather for his mediocre analysis on elder magic. He had been spending the last few months researching what little available material there was on the shamanic magic, but he still felt he hadn't enough knowledge yet--shamans kept to themselves, and what information there was had been brought by anima users, complete with their prejudices.

He had expected the library to be empty when he arrived, but much to his surprise there was already someone there. Lady Catherine sat at one of the long tables in the center of the room, a pot of tea in front of her as she paged through a book. When she glanced up at him, he could not help but feel uncomfortable; last night had been on his mind for much of the morning, not the least because she hadn't attended breakfast. Their last interaction, her show of making apologies so he could save face and his deliberate refusal of them because he did not want or need to be protected in such a way, bothered him; consequently he wasn't sure what to say beyond, "Lady Catherine, good morning."

There was a smirk on her face that he didn't appreciate as she said, "Would you really consider it such? Then, good morning to you."

"We missed you at breakfast."

"I wasn't hungry."

Mentally sighing, he asked, "Would you like me to leave you alone?"

It was her turn to give him a careful look before she shook her head. "No, I think we both know that you deserve answers, and I'd prefer you received them from me rather than another who hasn't my unique position."

Without a word, Pent sat across from her. A bright, flowery aroma wafted from Lady Catherine's teacup, but the scent did nothing to calm his nerves. On the contrary, he felt suddenly anxious, as if what he was about to hear was not meant for his ears no matter what she had said about his deserving answers. He waited for her to place a ribbon in her book and set it aside before he finally asked, in as neutral a tone as he could manage, "What do you have to tell me?"

She looked at him. Her eyes were exactly like Louise's and their facial structure similar, but there was a shrewdness that sharpened her gaze and flattened the corners of her lips, something essentially and coldly noble. To think of that expression on a face that could well be Louise's in twenty years felt like a perversion, but he did not look away. By instinct, he knew she detested weakness.

After a moment, a corner of her lips rose in a sort of mocking smirk, but he had the feeling it wasn't aimed at him. "That man I slapped last night is Duke Benet, Alfred Minart, Knight General of Etruria. He is ten years older than me, and when I was seventeen years old we were betrothed to marry."

Pent let out the breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding. "Ah."

"Ah, indeed," she said dryly. "To understand this story, you have to understand the life I lived when I was at the height of my power. As the only child of the highest of the titled generals at the time, I was privileged beyond all others save for the royal family. My lifelong friendship with Hellene enabled me to be her lady-in-waiting in all but name far before I was old enough to accept the responsibility. In that generation, women were the brightest stars and we forced everyone to accept our opinions from the arts to politics, or as much of the latter as there can be in a monarchy, and of those women who played their parts in the salons I was of the most influential." She sighed. "The study of magic and the Church's increased power have made their resurgence now, of course, and these are sadder times for it. Social conditions, the literati I was a part of before my fall...these things have fallen in importance. I mourn the death of that age every day."

Unsure of how to respond due to his devotion to being a magic-user, Pent kept quiet. Lady Catherine seemed to notice, her smile growing wider. "Forgive the reminiscence, Lord Pent. All women mourn their youth. Despite my sterling reputation, my father thought me to lack the worth of the seed used to create me. All he had ever wanted was a son to properly carry on his legacy, and I, who looked so much like his devoted wife, was the reminder twice over that he had failed at this one necessity. At that time, one of his favorite subordinates was our darling duke, who of course had not earned that rank at that time, and although dear Alfred was loved like a son they of course did not share the blood necessary to bind them legally. My role became twofold: to marry the man who would become the next knight general, and to bear a proper heir so that my father could complete his legacy." Lady Catherine laughed behind one hand bearing two simple gold rings before she took a sip of tea, her eyes still glittering with amusement as she looked at him. "But of course, just as all stories of this type go, I was already deeply in love with another."

Pent was drawn into her story, enough to find it hardly inappropriate in inquiring, "When did this happen?"

"Hellene often liked to rest in the countryside, and I as her confidant always followed her. My husband has been a dear friend of Count Alloway since they were children, so we often spent time together." Her smile lessened, though Pent could plainly see the fondness on her face. "I can't say when it happened, but I was surprised by the intensity of my feelings. That he felt the same way has always been my greatest blessing. Unfortunately we could never be, as Gérald had inherited little more than a house and a few fields and I was betrothed to a man whose meteoric rise through the military ranks was proving he would become one of the most powerful men in Etruria. That he was horribly debauched and had already succumbed to my father's belief that I was nothing more than a tool to be used to beget legitimate heirs did not dampen anyone's views of him. I was trapped, and there seemed to be no way out."

"But that was not the ending."

"Oh no, it certainly wasn't," she said with a shake of her head. "Gérald, idealistic and sentimental fool that he's always been, stubbornly maintained that he would marry me and give me the life I was accustomed to if only I would come to him. I resisted because I had so many things in my life that I wanted to cling to my side. However, when my father told me that I would marry on my eighteenth birthday whether I brought myself to the altar under my own power or not, I decided to take a chance." With a grin, she quickly finished her cup of tea. "Imagine this, Lord Pent. You know that the chances of your success are just about nil, but you have determined to go ahead anyway as you have nothing to lose. You dare not tell your friends your plans, knowing that they would prevent your flight. Even your dearest friend has done nothing but disapprove of the one you love. You know that yours will become the most reviled name in all of the kingdom. Yet, there always is someone that can be depended upon, because people with integrity have always come through at the worst of times. Now tell me, who is this person?"

Not family, for they would certainly agree with her father. Her friends are out because they either carry more loyalty to her position than to herself or believe she would be making a terrible mistake. Loyalty... When the answer came to Pent, he nodded slowly, a smile urging itself onto his lips. "A servant."

Lady Catherine grinned, her face nearly identical to her daughter's own with the action. "Who else? A new girl had come in from Aquleia and had been put to work as a scullery maid. There was something about her that was different from all the other help, not only in the way she approached her duties without complaint but also in her lack of interest in putting her pride in the fact that she was a servant of a highly-titled noble's home. I made her my chambermaid to keep her close, then I discreetly befriended her so that no one would become suspicious. When I asked her to serve only me, she agreed. We put our plan of a great escape into motion immediately, for my birthday was just after the winter. It was a simple plan--we took one of my father's horses and raced down to Alloway in the dead of winter." Shaking her head, she commented, "We were very lucky it was an unusually mild winter. Gérald and I married the same night we arrived, and by the time my father had arrived with a group of his most trusted men we were already quite properly husband and wife."

Pent raised his hand to stop her, unsure he had heard correctly. "Pardon, but this was an armed group?"

"Yes, of course," she answered patiently. "To say my father was displeased would be a gross understatement. My dearest, as always the greatest believer in the pure strength of his emotions, met them with a sword." Covering her face, she moaned in obvious embarrassment at the memory as Pent's eyes widened in disbelief. "I even told him that my father's favorite weapon was a lance, but did he listen to me and at least use an axe? No, that would be sensible, wouldn't it? Of course he was going to lose either way, but I would've at least liked it had he listened to me. If it weren't for the fact that Aramis showed up with his own soldiers, we would not be discussing this today."

"Your husband is amazing," Pent commented. Lady Catherine scowled.

"Are you mad? Sentimentality means nothing when you're dead!" Crossing her arms, she shook her head. "Men are such...just because you have the will to say, 'I'll solve it!' doesn't mean you can forfeit common sense and carry the wrong weapon into battle! Just because his father had used it to fight off pirates from Missur doesn't mean that it'll work when fighting off your new bride's enraged father...sometimes I just don't know about him." Despite the harsh words there was an undercurrent of exasperated fondness, much like the sort some of his teachers spoke with when he would opt not to return to Reglay for the long summer or winter breaks, that made Pent smile.

"But now you have your family. I see why Louise always speaks of you with such pride."

"Does she? Well, she's always been the respectful sort." But Lady Catherine was smiling as she said those words. "And you're quite kind. I'm sure your mother would've been pleased."

Slightly surprised by the sudden mention of his mother, Pent took a moment to compose himself before he spoke again. "That's right, you knew my mother. Would you mind telling me a bit about her?"

Lady Catherine's expression grew somewhat wary, and she made herself busy pouring herself another cup of tea before she said, "I did know your mother, but I'm not sure you want to know her as I knew her."

Pent frowned at this vague answer. "Could you explain?"

"I wouldn't like to insult the dearly departed. She had her qualities as she did her faults, but I knew the latter better than the former."

"Then, would you say she was a bad person?"

"You ask that so bluntly, I wonder if you care either way."

"Well, I didn't know her," he pointed out. "I don't have a single recollection of her, and my father rarely spoke of her when we did see each other."

"You weren't close to your lord father either," Lady Catherine observed. Pent nodded once. "Who raised you?"

"From my mother's death to the age of eight, I was passed around by my mother's relatives. When my maternal grandfather died, I was returned to Reglay, then sent to school in Aquleia." Said like this, he wondered if he was being too unemotional. It was the life he had lived, but at the same time it was nothing more than a series of footnotes, pushed aside so as to not clutter the page unnecessarily.

"Then you became a mage?"

"Then I studied anima magic, found it to my liking, and with the kindness of my father was allowed to transfer into a proper magic academy."

She nodded, taking a sip of her tea. "Then you became Count Reglay."

Pent said nothing.

"She was Sylphine Margot Lezzina, youngest daughter of Viscount Possa, one of the lords of the northeastern border we share with Ilia. We called her Sylvie to her face, and far worse behind her back. She believed herself to be deserving of the best of Etruria, attempting again and again to gain Hellene's favor, especially if it meant that I should take a fall in the process." Lady Catherine looked at him knowingly over the brim of her teacup. "Are you sure you want to know what I knew?"

"This is going to be painful, isn't it?" he mused out loud. Lady Catherine laughed, and with that his fate was sealed. "Tell me what you will."

"When I first met her, she had decided she was going to be the greatest actress the stage ever knew, but since she couldn't sing well she was banished to the smaller theaters. Musicals are always popular, even in these times, but the popularity of the mere spoken word ebbs and flows with the talent behind the script. Because of the rise of the literati and the salons, all levels of theater were very popular." Shrugging, Lady Catherine said, "Your mother was a star at the age of sixteen, two years older than myself and one year older than Hellene. However, your mother was also noble by birth, and so she knew that she was destined for greater things than the stage. Once she had befriended us, she had already determined that she was going to become royalty itself. I won't tell you about the passes she made at our good king at the time, when he was just a thirteen-year-old prince."

Warmth invaded Pent's face. "That would be for the best."

"Right. Anyway, when your mother was seventeen, your father began to cast about for eligible brides to compete for his favor--unwillingly, from what I heard at the time. He had originally intended to adopt his younger brother's firstborn son as the Reglay heir, but his brother, sister-in-law, and their two daughters died from influenza, leaving him at the age of thirty-nine as the last Martel."

"Why didn't he marry before?"

"It's not the same case as a certain other unmarried count and his suspicious relationship with his knight captain, I'll say that much," Lady Catherine commented wryly. "He just didn't seem interested and never went to a party if he could help it."

For perhaps the first time in his life, Pent felt a bond of commiseration between his father and himself. "Is that so?"

"Oh, yes. Since by then your mother had realized that the prince was far too religious for her Secular Eliminean sensibilities, being from the northeast as she was, she was much more interested when she landed on the short list as a possible bride to your father. She forced me to help her practice, and I have to admit that her performance that day was easily the most impressive."

"You were there?" he asked, surprised.

Pausing, Lady Catherine looked at him. "Hellene asked me to witness it for her, as she was busy with other things." A smile began to widen on her face. "Why, did you think I was a contestant? Because it's true I was also on the list, but my father declined in favor of his own plans."

"...Ah."

"She won, married your father three months later, and bore you a little under a year before I made my infamous escape."

Something bothered him, and it made him hesitant to speak it aloud. "What did she do after she learned of your actions?"

"...Hmm." Though she was smiling, Lady Catherine's head was turned away from his gaze. "She would tell everyone for years afterward that she had always known that I was a traitor to my noble heritage and that she would have revealed all had she known of my plans, all the while making sure that no one ever knew that it was with my help that she won the right to be called Countess Reglay. She worked far too hard to get to her position to stumble when it came to me."

Disgusted, Pent crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair, knowing that no defensive body language could shield him from his mother's actions in her life. "So that is the kind of woman my mother was. I have to say that, while I never really idealized her image, I'm sorry she has fallen even lower than my neutral estimation had placed her. On her behalf, I would like to apologize to you for her actions--"

"Oh, kindly shut up," she bit out, irritation plain on her face. He stared at her, bewildered by this sudden change. "Lord Pent, I told you I didn't like her very much. Would you fall so easily for bias in your duties to your county? I didn't like her because she tried to sever my lifelong friendship with Hellene. I also didn't like her because she was always the most beautiful and charismatic woman in the room. She didn't like me because I would cut her down with my wit and knowledge in an instant simply because I could, not only because I stood in the way of her earlier ambitions. The best we ever became were as cautious allies. If you went down to Aquleia's theaters and asked around, you would get a far different image of her than the one I've painted.

"The lesson here is this, Lord Pent: a woman's ambition will always score her a certain amount of hatred. Whatever a woman does can and will be dissected, measured against a man's, and discarded as being without worth. Where I am hated, a man would be pitied for being caught in an 'inferior' woman's clutches. Where your mother's actions have shamed you, a man's would have been lauded for protecting the reputation of himself and those around him. That is the price women pay for clinging to the dignity we desire as thinking, feeling beings. This hypocrisy rules Etruria, and I suspect it is not much different everywhere that is not Ilia--though far better to be us than them. Hate your mother's actions if you must, but don't disregard your mother entirely. If anything, disregard the rules of this world, who would make us a nation of cowards too drunk on our own reputation as Saint Elimine's homeland to hold onto our integrity and principles. Hate that, but not your mother. Never your mother."

In the face of Lady Catherine's passionate words, Pent had only one question in return. "What exactly are you asking of me?" She raised one palm upward, her other hand over her heart in a gesture so exotic to him it might as well be meaningless.

"What else but for you to be the best man you can be?"

He studied her carefully. There was something about her that was almost frightening, something she was holding back from him. He wondered if it was the true Lady Catherine, the one who hadn't accepted her fate with as much grace as Louise had insinuated. This woman had been pushed out of the social circles she had known and perhaps she didn't miss many of the people who still lingered in them, but it was clear she missed her power to effect change, her relevance in the world. Now her time had passed, but she still remained. All she could do was instill that same desire for change in her own daughter--but did it take root? Pent wasn't sure; based upon her own descriptions of her unflinchingly sentimental husband, Louise resembled her father more in personality. Did that frustrate Lady Catherine? Somehow, he didn't think so, though he couldn't say why. He really couldn't say much about the interactions between any parent and child, not knowing too much about it himself.

Besides, he had seen what she looked like when she was frustrated. Just before she had slapped Duke Benet, he had seen her face and he didn't believe anyone could hide emotions like those. He knew he couldn't, not if he had any reason to become that angry.

"Can I ask you one more question, Lady Catherine?"

"What is it?"

"What did the duke say to you that made you react in such a manner?"

"Hm, that depends. What did he tell you afterward?"

Heed my words and cast away that poison fruit as soon as you can. Not a person in this room would look down on you for it. After all, the daughter of a whore is still a whore at heart.

Pent frowned. "Nothing important."

"Then, same here." Lady Catherine sighed. "Be careful, though, as he's a petty man. If he's given you advice and you decide not to regard it, he will always remember that as a personal insult and he will make you suffer for it."

"Sounds pleasant," he remarked, about to say more when the door opened behind him.

"Ah, there you are!"

He turned at Louise's voice, then had to keep himself from laughing at her appearance. She was dressed as she normally was, more concerned with comfort than to attract, with the addition of an overlarge apron and thick protective gloves on both hands. It was obvious that her maid, who stood at the door as Louise strode forward, had to open the door for her. Lady Catherine's suppressed groan reached his ears; this was probably not within her lessons to make Louise into a proper lady.

That was just fine with him.

"Have you finished?" he asked. Louise nodded eagerly.

"You'll be very impressed! It's a cinnamon and walnut cake, since that was all that was available, and we made some vanilla icing to decorate it." She looked past him, her smile widening. "Mother, won't you have a slice with us?"

"I really prefer brioche, but your cooking ability has become quite good. Go on ahead, we'll catch up to you."

After Louise and her maid left the room, Pent was about to follow when suddenly he felt a hand clamp upon his shoulder from behind. "Ah, I almost forgot. Lord Pent, about last night and my daughter's 'Reglay crest,' as you put it..."

Today, Pent knew that he was privileged to receive a number of lessons from Lady Catherine. Many of them he would still need to take the time to assimilate, but as far as the last one went, he would probably never forget it--not even after he was married.

-end-

When I think about it, between her conversation with Pent in part one of The Budding Garden and her 'female ambition' lecture here, Catherine is an incredibly fair woman. I really enjoy writing characters who don't need to wield weapons or magic to be forceful, strong people, especially in a world like Elibe (and Etruria specifically) where we don't get to see many characters like that by necessity of the game mechanics. Doesn't it make you wonder how your everyday NPC noblewoman lives if she doesn't even have the magic to even be a troubadour? Though, I guess that didn't stop Clarine...

Regarding Pent's mother: I hate the Sainted Dead Mother trope. I don't know if that's the name for it, but we all know what I mean, right?

Thank you very much for reading; the next story will be posted a week from today, on the 19th. Please, feel free to question or comment on anything in the story that catches your eye!