Bouquet
(C) Intelligent Systems and Nintendo
-0-
Fields of Gold: Yellow Violet
(rural happiness)
Underneath the morning sun, Louise drifted.
It was not the easy float of a midday daydream, like so many she had indulged in rather than taking conscious part in one miserable instrumental practice after another. No, no such thing as that, not as she stalked through the large grove past the border of her family's personal lands, her bow drawn and an arrow ready to fly at the sight of her prey. Here, now, she moved as if she had always found nothing but the greatest comfort inside her still-growing body, using every bit of her meager human senses to explore the grove, magnificent world-within-a-world that it was, as myriad streams of light poured through the canopy. Yet for the moment there was only the sure, creeping footsteps of the rest of her hunting party, all archers to a man (and herself, the lone woman). Though March was a good month for such indulgences--called such in the agricultural domain that was Alloway County--the attentions of most of hardworking folk lay to the planting fields and its potential bounties. However, when she had called for all those interested in an early morning hunt, enough came that she felt at least one of their party would be lucky. A few had been, but not her, not yet.
Her time would come, she was sure of it. There was to be a feast tonight and she would bring home a worthy bird for it.
The light rippling through the canopy sent drops of gold speckling the dark ground; Louise concentrated on it not for the beauty of the sight, but for something more practical. Her time came when a series of dots far away became disrupted, the light revealing a bright red wattle wobbling to and fro under one eye with comical ease--a male pheasant on a morning stroll. Steadying herself, Louise raised her bow, her narrowed eyes unable to focus on anything but the jiggling flaps, so unnaturally red when surrounded by the new light green leaves and grass bursting forth to celebrate the coming spring.
The wobbling stopped. Louise fired.
It seemed to her the cry of the pheasant was unnaturally loud; as she walked up to the bird she could see his bulk weakly thrashing about, the shaft of the arrow sticking out of its breast. He died without her needing to pull out her knife and she was glad for it, for although she found pleasure in the act of hunting, to actually reach for the creature and feel his body spasm as she slit his throat was still difficult to endure. The arrow that flew from her bow was her and not her, the degree of separation a comfort still necessary--was she weak for it? As she pulled the arrow from the bird, unflinching from the gore that spurted from his chest afterward, she wondered if she was being unrealistic in her mindset. Her hands, now bare for the messy duty ahead, worked quickly to dress the game bird, removing the viscera inside its rib cage but opting to keep the feathers untouched until at that time she found herself home once again. After she had finished her grisly duty Louise put the pheasant's heavy body into a sack she had tucked inside her quiver, dumping a canteen of water over her bloodied hands to clean them off before she put on her gloves again and left the grove with her catch.
It seemed that more of her group had gotten lucky within as well, and as they showed each other their catches and congratulated each other she wondered if anyone else had the same reservations as herself. Though she knew quite a few of the other hunters, she couldn't imagine sharing her concerns with any of them. It had nothing to do with looking weak on her part; seeing the other hunters joke with each other showed her that, to them, this was a time of camaraderie and fun after the lean winter, and she felt it not her place to depress anyone with her personal thoughts.
And yet, with all that, she grinned as she revealed her catch and saw the surprise on those faces she was unfamiliar with, taking pride in knowing that she had proved her worth to all of them, both young and old. "It's a bird fit for a lord," one man congratulated her.
She nodded, her smile so wide she felt as if she would split apart from her happiness. "I truly hope so."
-0-
It was a perturbed Pent who endured the bouncing of the carriage as it traversed the narrow roads of Alloway; though the uncomfortable ride was not the origin of his poor mood, it was certainly doing its part in prolonging it. The true cause, as he was beginning to believe all problems connected to himself began, was in Reglay. It was such a minor incident, and yet...
A good lord knows everything within his borders, he remembered his father having remarked once. If he lets himself be ignorant of even the smallest motes, he has no one to blame but himself when there is trouble.
Pent drummed his fingers against the side of the carriage door, the polished wood causing his fingertips to slide. Would that also include the thoughts of his servants? Should I hold myself sovereign over that last frontier as well? Is Reglay worth that? He was sure the answer was an empathetic 'no,' but with the suspicion that had taken root in his mind he couldn't help but wonder if he would be risking something dire if he should continue believing it. All he knew was that there had been a peculiar sense of wrongness that pervaded the incident, which went like this:
The day before he left for the two-day journey to Alloway, he had accompanied his steward to the clerks' workroom when he had noticed the auburn-haired clerk who had approached him during the mad rush of preparations for the ball. Normally he would not have remembered the aborted meeting, but the financial ledgers the clerk had brought with him had impressed themselves in Pent's mind, and so it was natural for his curiosity to rise when he saw the man again, especially as the clerk had never returned for a proper meeting. Once Pent had realized that the clerk with his head down at his desk and surrounded by heavy law books was the very same one, he had approached the desk and tapped it twice. The clerk had looked up and given him a wide-eyed stare more reminiscent of fear than surprise--Pent remembered that distinctly, because he had wondered if he was an even poorer lord than he had considered himself to be if his own servants were frightened of him.
"Excuse me," he had said, "I remembered you had something you wished to discuss with me earlier, but I was unable to accommodate you at the time. I'm to leave tomorrow, but perhaps when I return..." But he could not finish his sentence, as the clerk did something rather unusual.
The clerk had put a finger over his own lips.
He wants me to be silent? But why? Pent had looked around automatically, wondering who was not supposed to listen to them. That was when he saw his steward approaching them. "Milord, is something the matter?" he had asked in his usual officious manner.
Pent had shaken his head in response. "No, not at all." After glancing at the clerk, whose face had seemed to pale with the steward's proximity, Pent had made a quick decision. "I was mistaken, that's all."
"Mistaken? With young Raike here?" His steward hadn't looked convinced. "There's no one else here with his particular hair color."
"Oh, is that so? I couldn't tell."
"You...couldn't tell?"
"Well, perhaps I'm growing colorblind." Both the steward and the clerk had stared at him for that one. "No, forgive me, it was just a joke. I really did make a mistake." To the clerk Raike, he had said, "Forgive my error. It seems I've interrupted your work."
Raike had responded with, "Oh no, milord, not at all," but Pent had seen the relief on the clerk's face before he had led the steward away with more distractions, and as a consequence he had spent his trip dwelling over the incident. It was obvious the clerk had wanted to tell him something, but not within sight of Borenze--why? The best Pent could figure out was that it had something to do with the steward, but then, why the financial records? What possible reason could there have been to bring those as well, unless something in them implicated his steward in negligence at best, a crime at worst? And, they were from before his ascension, which bothered Pent immensely because that meant it had something to do with his father as well. Something his father had not noticed?
Impossible, Pent thought as he closed his eyes. If it had to do with Reglay, Father would have seen it. But it was true that his father had declined rapidly within the last year of his life. Perhaps his facilities had been failing even before then.
The carriage rolled to a stop. Glancing at the door, Pent pushed away his growing frustration. No matter how much he thought about it, nothing mattered until he had solid proof one way or the other. Today he fully intended to enjoy his time with Louise and her family.
When the door of the carriage was opened, he exited and took in the sight of the house before him. Not only was it smaller than Castle Reglay--which made sense, he supposed--it was much smaller than even the manor his family kept in the countryside. It was not built in the grandiose styles his fellow nobility preferred, with columns around the perimeter and statues perching on bits of roof sticking out here and there like a hazard zone in the making. Instead, it was a two-story house built with light gray stonework, a dark gray sloping roof, and tall multi-paned windows on both floors, giving it a rustic and sturdy quality. A small yet growing flower garden curled around the left corner of the house while a little grove protectively loomed over the right side and partially behind the house did their parts in adding a quaint, lived-in feeling. It was suited for genteel country nobility, an unobtrusive home just off the main road to Castle Alloway. After some thought, Pent decided that it was quite appropriate from what he had gleaned regarding the family; in fact, the more he looked at it, the more he liked the house.
"Milord."
Pent glanced over his shoulder where his driver stood, respectfully offering him the gift he had brought for Louise's parents. Taking it under one arm, Pent nodded his thanks and began to walk down the little path, sparsely studded with large rocks, to the front door. He waited for a servant to open the door for several moments before he realized that the curtains were closed behind the large windows to either side of the walnut wood door, and he couldn't see anyone on the other side of the small window in the door. Embarrassed and wondering if his driver was watching him stand in front of the door like an entitled fool, he knocked three times with probably a little more force than was polite. He jostled the boxed gift--a bottle of fine red wine from Northern Reglay's vineyards--out from under his arm as he waited for someone to come to the door, his impatience growing after several more moments passed. He was beginning to feel abandoned when suddenly he heard footsteps on the other side of the door, then the sharp clak of the deadbolt being thrown.
The door opened and Louise's father stared at him with what Pent recognized as a subtle air of annoyance mixed with resignation--he received that look from quite a few Reglay nobles. "Ah, it's you," Louise's father said before opening the door wider. "Well, come in."
Pent felt compelled to raise an eyebrow at the sight of the master of the house opening the door for guests, but perhaps that was the Allowellian way. "I thank you, Monsieur Émile," he replied with a nod, discreetly wiping his shoes on the solid stone porch before following his host's lead. After they walked through the foyer and to the left doorway into a large sitting room, Pent stood by uncomfortably as Louise's father drew open the curtains like the older man had done it a thousand times before, waiting for an opportunity to pass on the gift. That moment came when the other man turned around and gave him an odd look.
"Do you need an invitation to sit?"
"...No, I just, well, thank you for allowing me to visit your home today. Please accept this as a token of my appreciation for the kindness you and your wife have shown during the course of my engagement to your daughter," Pent said, wondering if he had said too much or not enough when Louise's father said nothing at all. Feeling somewhat annoyed now, he passed the gift to the older man, who took it without a word and opened the box. There was a flicker of something odd on the man's face before he looked up at Pent, who could not avoid frowning ever so slightly at the continued lack of silence. "Is something the matter?" he asked.
"This is a bottle of wine, correct?"
"Yes, from Reglay's vineyards. I was told that it's an excellent year." Pent paused. "Was this incorrect?"
Louise's father arched an eyebrow. "You are aware that we are Lighter Elimineans?"
"...Louise has mentioned it before, I believe." As Pent's knowledge of Eliminism was more focused on its magic and not its denominations, the turn of conversation was beginning to frustrate him. "Pardon me, but what does this--"
"We don't drink."
"What--not alcohol?"
"Right."
"...Oh." If there was any time for as little said as possible, it would be this time. "I see."
Perhaps Louise's father decided to take pity on him, for as the older man closed the box he commented, "I suppose I can give this to Ellie to use as cooking wine."
That bottle is older than me and you're just going to use it as cooking wine? Pent thought, incredulous. He only drank when he was having guests or being a guest himself, but he had visited a winery in the past year and the thought of all that effort being wasted for cooking wine made him feel annoyed on the behalf of his county. Reasoning it away as being a gift given in good will and that he should be thankful that the other man was not as offended in turn was a cold comfort. He sat down and wanted tea, but there were still no maids around and it would be beyond rude to ask his host for a cup. "Well," he said, casting about for a good conversation starter, "how is Louise today?"
The older man eased himself into a chair close to the window, placing the box on a nearby accent table. The room was not too large, but they were halfway across the room from each other and it made Pent feel as if he would have to yell and be yelled at in return. The novelty of being yelled at was diminished by the fact that he rarely raised his voice--he couldn't help but wonder if his host just wanted him to shut up. But when Louise's father spoke, Pent heard him use the same measured tones as before. "She went out hunting at dawn for tonight's feast and came home later than she had expected. She should be here shortly."
"Ah. Does she do this often?"
If anything, the question seemed to irritate the other man. "When she feels like it, of course," he answered, his tone short.
"Oh." Wondering if he had said something wrong, and annoyed because he was sure he hadn't, Pent decided to move to another topic. "Is Lady Catherine in today?"
"She went to visit her father, since her birthday is next month."
Strange, thought Pent. When she had told him about her past, the beliefs her father had held towards her seemed to be enough for them to remain estranged forever. Certainly his own relationship with his father had been that of near strangers, and they hadn't even the excuse of undergoing any sort of traumatic incident. "I see," he commented after a long moment had passed, enough to extend the awkwardness in the air.
Louise's father said nothing. Pent kept quiet. If time passed, Pent was sure it was doing so at half-speed. His throat itched; he really needed something to drink but couldn't ask...
Soft footfalls preceded Louise's very welcome entrance, a vision as she was in a light pink dress, knee-length light brown boots, and waves of long blond hair. "Ah, you've arrived, Lord Pent!" With her smiling in her usual sweet way, Pent couldn't help but feel less bothered as soon as he saw her; he wouldn't exactly say his problems were swept away by the sight of her, but she had a certain presence that was cheerfully refreshing. That feeling didn't fade as she turned to her father and said, "Father? Are you well? It really surprised me that neither of you were talking. I thought I had the wrong room for a moment." She laughed, and suddenly the atmosphere felt lighter.
"No, it's nothing at all, sweetpea," her father said, the smile on his face softening his demeanor immensely. Pent felt, just a little, like he was intruding, but before he could discreetly remove himself Louise pointed at the gift box.
"What is that?"
"Oh, well...he brought something of a present," her father answered in a vague manner.
Louise turned to Pent, her smile wide enough for him to renege on his earlier resentment and instead feel only guilt about giving her parents a gift they couldn't appreciate. "Thank you very much, Lord Pent! You're always so kind." Clasping her hands in front of her chest, she asked, "Have you already eaten?"
Pent nodded. "Yes, I had some breakfast before continuing the rest of the way."
"Oh, that makes sense." Her smile dimmed, bringing a sudden anxiety to him--what had he done now?--before she appeared sheepish. "Well, would you object to tea?"
"Absolutely not." Taking this as his hint to rise, Pent did so before nodding in her father's direction. "Excuse me, sir. Please lead the way, Louise." Before he turned his head to follow Louise's back, he saw the cool, considering face of her father, the older man's light blue eyes studying him impassively, and knew that for now he was being treated with the bare minimum of respect and nothing else.
He wasn't sure, but he had a feeling not all of that wariness had to do with his engagement to Louise.
-0-
Louise learned when she had made a birthday cake for them that Lord Pent had little affinity for sweets, which made her all the more appreciative that he was so willing to try the small chocolate and custard-filled cakes available for the morning tea; there was a sad lack of fruits owing to the fact that it was simply too early in the year to expect the stores and stores of berries common to Alloway. As there was going to be a great feast that night--the distant clatter in the kitchen as every maid in the house worked furiously something that Lord Pent easily accepted--there was going to be neither lunch nor afternoon tea, and so she urged him to eat well.
"But what if I want to leave room for the meal you've hunted?" he asked with that slight smile that often accompanied his light teasing, but once she processed his words she could not help the tremble that overcame both her hand and her cup before she put it down.
"Father told you?"
"Yes." Lord Pent gave her what she thought was a very understanding look. "Was he not supposed to?"
Her face warmed at his kindness, her cheeks tingling as she tried to smile with all the nonchalance of a woman who does not mind if she has failed to get her way. "I thought it would be a nice surprise," she answered quietly.
"Well, I for one am very surprised. I'll be looking forward to tonight's meal." As Lord Pent was always quite sincere, even when he indulged in teasing her, Louise could only nod. He seemed altogether much more at ease now than he had been before, sitting with her father--did they not get along?
No, that can't be it, she thought, fingering the hem of her knee-length skirt, the side of her littlest finger pressed not uncomfortably against the ridge of her stiff deerskin boots. Father has been tired lately, and the only reason why he didn't go out today was because Lord Pent was arriving. Mother's absence never does him well. Poor Father...
When tea was finished Lord Pent rose, a gentle smile on his face that warmed her to see it. "What will we be doing today?"
"The weather is excellent for riding, but..." Understanding all too well that the anxiety that coursed through her body would not abate until she discovered for herself her father's problems and perhaps eased them a bit, she bowed her head slightly in self-conscious discomfort. "Oh, please forgive me, I'll be right back!" With those words, Louise hurried out of the breakfast room, hoping to find her father still lingering in the sitting room where she had found him earlier; were he in his office, she would not like to disturb him. She offered a small prayer of gratitude to the holy saint when she entered the sitting room and saw that he was preoccupied with little at all, save for the gift Lord Pent had presented to him. Her dear father noticed her as soon as she stepped inside the room, his mild expression transforming into one of grave concern.
"Louise, what is it? Why do you look so flustered?" he asked, slipping into Etruscan as he often did when he was greatly bothered. As always, she followed his lead.
"Father, I was worried about you. Are you sure nothing is wrong?"
Her father sighed. "You're such a sweet child. Your mother said I'm not to interfere when that boy's come around, so I won't say anything at all."
Clenching her hands together, she ventured, "Does that mean you dislike Lord Pent? But why?"
There was a pained look on her father's face before he looked away from her. "I just worry about you, Louise," he said, his heavy tone much older than his thirty-four years of age; consequently, it weighed down her heart unlike anything else she had ever endured. Crossing the room with a few quick strides, she embraced her father around his broad shoulders.
"Please don't," she whispered into his ear. "Have I matured so little that you would worry about me like I was still a child?"
She heard him exhale heavily. "Of course you're right. But you're my daughter and I can't help but worry." Though she drew away from him, she still kept her hands on his shoulders as she looked down at his face. Inwardly, she fretted at the dissonance between his weighed-down old tone and his golden hair and beard free from even a single gray hair, but she sought to maintain her serenity and show her father just how well she had grown due to his loving patience.
"You needn't worry, Father. Thanks to you and Mother, I've become the best I could ever be. So please, trust in me." Perhaps the truth of her words reached him, for his expression lightened and he looked at her not with undue concern, but with the trusting paternal affection on which she had always depended.
"What a good girl you are," he said fondly, patting the top of her head and disturbing her loose, long locks. She shook her head away from his hand as she stepped away from his sitting form, vainly trying to smooth out her hair again.
"Oh, Father! You should at least call me a lady now!"
Her father laughed, its deep sound comforting and warm. "Nice try. You're only fifteen."
Knowing that she had been away from Lord Pent too long to be considered anything but rude, she hurried to the open doorway back to the foyer before turning around. "Please don't think ill of Lord Pent. He's really a wonderful man and one day I know everyone will see it. It would make Mother and I despair if you stressed yourself over that. We love you too much to bear seeing you worry so."
An odd look crossed her father's face. "Louise, should I ask if you've already fallen for the boy?"
"Huh? W-what are you asking? I don't know anything about that!" And with that Louise scurried back to the breakfast room because--how embarrassing!
When she hurried through the doorway, Lord Pent looked at her with a most startled expression on his face; it seemed he hadn't expected her to burst into the room with such exuberance! To see him so soon after her father had posed such a strange question to her made her suddenly conscious of every heartbeat in her chest, as well as in her throat it felt, when Lord Pent rose from his seat and approached her. "Are you well, Louise?" he asked. His worried expression, mild as it was, made her wonder what it was about her that made the men in her life worry about her so.
"I'm very well, truly!"
"Truly?"
Louise stared at him a moment before he began to smile, then she turned her head away in exasperation. "Lord Pent, I understand I was unforgivably rude in leaving you so suddenly, but I was concerned about my father and I wanted to make sure he was all right."
"Then in that case, I would be the rude one if I expressed any irritation over something like that. After all, it seems your family is very important to you."
"Oh, but..." She turned to him, knowing that she could not hide the frown on her face. "Aren't all families important to the people within them?"
His smile was much diminished now, and she wondered if she had hit a nerve. "I suppose so," he answered, his tone so neutral it seemed meaningless. Before she could say a word, he had taken her hand within one of his own. "Well, Louise, shall we go?"
She led him outside and to the stables, knowing that in turn he was leading her out from the more sensitive arenas of their mutual communication. Knowing that she could only wait for him to speak of these things on his own, while worrying that they had perhaps reached an impasse, she could only lead while letting herself be led and wonder where they were going.
-0-
Sometimes, Pent decided, he really was a fool.
Due to Lady Catherine's departure, there had been only one horse left, a gray-blue mare Louise affectionately called 'Marion.' They had to double up, Louise taking the reins as he sat behind her, surreptitiously clinging to the sides of the saddle rather than to hold onto Louise's slender waist. It left him feeling terribly awkward, because while he wouldn't mind holding on to her he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. He especially didn't want her parents finding out, or else that would probably be the end of his noble line, engagement or not.
Lady Catherine's weeks-old warning hung in the back of his mind like the cool threat of an unsheathed sword, and he had to suppress a shudder.
He wondered how it was possible they were allowed to ride together unchaperoned, but decided not to question any bit of good luck granted to him. Neither of them said anything as they rode out across green fields, and every time he turned around the back of her house became smaller and smaller until it was just a speck in the distance. It seemed that she had a place in mind, though the landscape showed nothing of interest beyond the length of a small river and the occasional house, and so he clung to the saddle until he could feel it imprint on his palms, all the while attempting to enjoy the unseasonably warm March weather.
They stopped at the top of a gentle slope, untouched land spreading for miles before them; near the horizon, Pent thought he could see the blue of the ocean. He got off the horse first, wondering if he should help Louise before he saw her carefully climbing down with her back to him, the loose knee-length skirt of the pale pink dress she wore riding up one creamy, unblemished length of thigh. As casually as he could, he walked ahead and thought very hard about the possible sight of ocean before him and nothing, absolutely nothing, about the soft-looking fullness of her inner thigh.
As it turned out, this was more difficult than he imagined.
He heard rustling sounds behind him as he resolutely stared forward before he heard her call out his name. Turning around, he saw that Louise had looped the reins around one of the low branches of the gangly, winter-bare tree that stood on this low summit and was now crouching down, exhibiting more care with her skirts now than she had earlier. "Lord Pent," she beckoned him with a sweet smile, "won't you sit down?"
With reservation, he nodded. "Of course." Careful to exhibit a sense of propriety he did not completely feel, he made sure to keep some space between them as he sat down next to her, leaning his back against the knobby trunk of the tree. "It's a nice view," he commented.
Louise's smile grew wider. "Oh, it is. You should see it later, once it becomes late spring. The entire vale is covered in yellow violets, and Celia and I collect baskets of them to decorate our church and make into tea."
"Violet tea?" Pent asked, intrigued. "I've never heard of that before. Is it good?"
"Well, no, not really." She giggled, one hand occupied in tucking her golden hair behind one ear, then the other. "But it's tradition, so we always drink it anyway. That's why Father leaves this area undeveloped, although he owns it."
"What does he do with the developed land?"
"He sells it to anyone who is willing to farm their own land. Although Etrurian law forbids selling land to anyone considered peasantry, there's a loophole that allows my father to establish partial business owners, so although he still owns the land on paper it really belongs to whoever buys the acreage from him." A pensive look crossed her face before she winced. "Oh, but you have to promise not to tell anyone, since he and Uncle Aramis are still working to legalize the practice."
"I promise." Feeling emboldened, he continued with, "But I'm afraid I don't understand why he would do that, legal or not."
She stared at him as if he'd said something she couldn't comprehend. "Because everyone deserves to have their own land so they can feed their families and turn a profit. Here in Alloway, it's very important for us to keep a sense of...autonomy, I believe the word is. Hard work is very important to us, especially when we know that our effort will bring us good returns." Placing her hands on her lap, she twisted the material of her dress lightly between her fingers. "Probably because of our Etruscan heritage, we pride ourselves on our independence. It's not enough just to be blond." She laughed, and he joined her.
"I see it now. You're very knowledgeable." More than that, he thought--she had the interesting ability to tie intelligence with compassion. He supposed it was not quite correct to call it an 'ability,' but it was rare, whatever it was. He remembered Lady Catherine remarking upon her husband's innate sentimentality; it was obvious Louise was much the same way, but it belied the sharpness of her intellect. Within the latter were shades of Lady Catherine's fierce application of her ideals, revealing her keen mind to the world whether it liked it or not.
If ever there was a child who combined her parents' traits perfectly, Pent knew he was looking at her right now.
"Oh, well," she murmured, her face coloring somewhat as she looked down. "My father taught me everything he could, since I was the heiress once..."
Surprise sparked within him, prompting him to ask, "You won't inherit?" She shook her head.
"Since my claim will become my husband's interest, and ownership of land can't cross county borders, it's not possible."
"But then, who will inherit?"
"One of my cousins. My father sent someone to look for my Aunt Charlotte's family, but because they're hunters who travel Lycia it might take a while."
He thought she looked uncomfortable with his questions, which he couldn't blame her since he thought he sounded as though he was too interested in the land. He already had too much of that to worry about without the added nuisance of anyone else's claims, but to assure her he smiled. "I'm glad I won't be causing too much of an interference with your family's plans, then." To his relief, she returned his smile.
"You shouldn't worry at all, Lord Pent. In a way, I'm kind of happy. My mother sometimes says that, in a perfect world, Aunt Charlotte would have inherited everything, but then my father, if he's in hearing distance, will always say that Mother 'must not like the house she's living in,' and then they'll start bickering..." Louise trailed off with a bit of a sigh as she looked towards the green fields before them.
He wondered what he should say. "Do they 'bicker' often?"
"Hm, it depends." Louise glanced at him, something of an embarrassed look on her face. "That's not to say they're unhappy, of course. Actually, I think they enjoy the fights."
"Ah," he said, at this point lost. "I can't say I understand..."
"I don't know either. I wouldn't like to fight at all."
"We're in agreement there, then."
She grinned. "How wonderful! I'm really happy to hear that. Well, that is, you always seem so calm and reserved, so I can't imagine you ever becoming angry."
"I should be saying the same thing about you. I've never met a person half as sweet and cheerful as yourself," he returned, smiling as surprise crossed her face.
"You're not teasing, are you?"
"I swear I'm not."
"Truly? Because I'd be very hurt if you were."
"And you would have every right to be."
They were both smiling at the end of their exchange, yet there was something else to her lovely features that he couldn't decipher, something soft and strong, something that lit up her eyes with fun and life. Whatever it was, it was more than welcome; it was the fondest look he had ever seen aimed at himself, mixed with something incomprehensible, but in that instant he thought he would do anything just to keep that look on her face. It was an expression that made him truly realize for the first time in their nearly year-long engagement that he was going to marry her.
She laughed, and for the first time since he became Count Reglay he saw the future not as an endless succession of duties that he would have to bear with variable amounts of willingness, but as the natural result of his best choices.
God willing, he would continue to make the best choices he could.
"I think I would like to see these lands filled with golden violets," he said, smiling a little at her look of pleased surprise. "If not this year, then definitely the next."
A rosy pink color bloomed on her cheeks. "T-this year would be lovely for it, since next year we'll be busy with the wedding." Running a hand through her hair, she looked away from him and laughed softly. "But, Lord Pent, they're called yellow violets. I've never heard of golden violets before."
He looked at her hair, those long, brilliant locks like bright beams of sunlight, and smiled to himself. "Whichever you prefer, Louise. They're your flowers, after all."
-0-
Altogether too soon it was time for Lord Pent to depart for Uncle Aramis' castle, and Louise was sorry for it. She did not think she would have the chance to see him tomorrow, unless by chance Uncle Aramis invited her father and herself up the road, and after her father's rather silent disposition tonight she thought if there were an invitation it would be best to decline for everyone's sake. Lord Pent would return to Reglay after that, and then it would be some time before she would return to Castle Reglay to further acquaint herself to the duties of the lady of the house.
Though she was despised by many of the Reglay servants, she would not falter. She would do her best while continuing to explore the growing bond she felt between herself and Lord Pent.
"Good night, Lord Pent," she told him as quietly as she could while she stood on the porch. Celia was lingering nearby inside, and if their goodbyes were overly long her father was sure to wander through the foyer as well.
"Good night, Louise." With those words he took one of her hands in his. Though it was a chilly night, more appropriate for the first wind month than the day had been, even the tips of his fingers were warm to the touch. "I enjoyed myself today. I'm even more in awe of your archery than I was before, if it allows you to catch a bird that big."
She smiled purely by instinct, a bit embarrassed to be reminded of the contest last year. "Don't say that, not when I haven't shown you how well I can really shoot yet."
"You'll be entering again this year, then?" The foyer behind her was lit up enough for her to see the genuine look of interest on his face. "Well, I can't wait. I'll make plans to come down here then."
"Oh, but it'll be during the harvest festival this year. I'll write you with the details."
"Good, good. I'll be happy to hear of it. I..." He seemed to pause. "Well. You think of me as reserved, correct?"
Louise said nothing until her curiosity overtook her suspicions that he was going to tease her again. "I would think that anyone who has made your acquaintance thinks of you as reserved," she lightly rejoined, and to that his smile was very slight and quite mysterious.
Then he raised her hand, lowered his head, and in-between the two she could feel his lips touch the back of her hand.
His lips were warm, and even after he raised his head she thought she could feel the heat of them upon her hand. Of course, as these things must work out in that not-quite-familiar physical domain that was her body, that strange warmth had also transmitted to her face. And yet, she could not look away from him. For all the good and pure things in the world she could not look away.
"...That is," he started after a moment of utter bewildered silence between them, "I've had the opportunity of seeing a knight do that before, in Aquleia. I thought it would be interesting to try. Although, perhaps I should have asked your permission first."
"Oh, no." When she realized by the surprise on his face how her words could have been misconstrued, she shook her head and tried again. "No, no, it's perfectly fine. It's...I don't mind at all." She giggled as a sort of full-stop she desperately needed to keep from rambling, though for the barest sliver of a moment she was afraid she sounded quite hysterical.
"Oh. Then, that's good. Very good, really." He released her hand, and for a single heartbeat the urge to reclaim his touch was overpowering. "If I don't see you tomorrow, I'll write you as soon as I return to Reglay. There's a little matter I'll have to clear up once I return, but after that we'll schedule your next visit. Well then, good night." With a nod, he turned, but not before she had been honored with the sight of his smile.
"Good night," she whispered as she watched him complete the trail to the road and enter his carriage. Even after she watched his carriage depart, she found herself unwilling to move, content as she was to let the night breeze stir her hair and raise the gooseflesh along her arms. Surely if her mother saw her like this she would be chided as being a silly girl, not to talk of inciting her poor father to continue with more questions along the same vein he had put to her earlier, and yet...
"Lady Louise?" Celia said from behind her, her soft voice tinged with concern. Louise nodded, resolutely turning around even as she felt her heart waver by degrees.
Isn't it strange? He's only just left, and already I want to see him again.
It was not an unpleasant feeling, she decided. Indeed, it was the most wonderful feeling she had ever experienced thus far. How could it not be, when its warmth matched that of his lips?
-end-
I hope everyone has enjoyed this latest Bouquet story. The next update will be on 8/24.
Lady of Violets: Most of the character titles you see for the game's individual character endings are shortened from the Japanese version. For instance, Pent is actually called Mage General of Silver, a reference to his son Klein who is called Noble Youth of Silver. Louise is known as the Lady of Golden Violets, which seems to bring up comparisons to her long blond hair. While golden violets do exist, they are not mentioned in any source of Victorian flower meanings; yellow violets are, although I can't say they're really the same thing. It was from that definition of 'rural happiness' that I came up with the idea that Louise came from a more rural background. In hanakotoba, Japanese flower meanings, the violet (no yellow/golden violets as far as I can tell) means 'honesty.'
If you have any comments or questions, please feel free to make them known. I would especially love to know how everyone is taking the way the romance is portrayed now that there are overt signs of it. Honestly, I hope everyone's feeling a little happier after this story.