Author's Note: Two and a half weeks since the last chapter. Not bad, eh? 😉 I just want to thank everyone who has stuck with this story thus far, I really appreciate it from the bottom of my heart! I carefully read all the comments and reviews and it is a privilege to be able to have discussions with all the readers and hear your thoughts and perceptions on the characters, the story, the anime and manga. These discussions are very enriching to the imagination and I always learn something new or end up getting a new perspective from someone. Please excuse any delay in writing back to you, I'm a slow reader and writer in general and I like to give my correspondence ample time to be able to appreciate it more!
Was that it? Was it over?
A loud exhale filled the luxurious apartments that were Oscar's rooms. She had obeyed her Queen and spent the day sleeping and resting. At least, she tried her best, but her mind kept churning and ruminating over the same things that were occupying her for the past month: Andre and the Black Knight.
For the first time in a long time, there had been no walls between them last night. There were no masks, no lies. Andre had been himself, just as he had always been: affable and full of humor. They had easily slipped into their natural dynamic and childhood antics.
Everything seemed so… back to normal. She finally had him back. She had her friend back. Her friend…
She clutched the pillow tightly to her chest. There was something about the word "friend" that left her feeling bitter, of all things. To describe him as her friend and her friend only… it was beginning to sound hollow.
"Don't you know by now I am happiest when I am with you?" he had said. Yes, she knew. She knew because this was exactly how she felt last night, sitting with him at the kitchen table sipping the hot chocolate that he had made her. The same one he made for her every night for the past decade.
She could no longer ignore that swelling in her heart every time he was near her. Her feelings towards him, she could ascertain as much, were real. They meant something and they meant something big.
And in those quiet moments of the early dawn they had shared together, she had felt the sudden urge to tell him. She had wanted to say something to him. But then…
"Let's not, Oscar… Let's never talk about any of that ever again. I think it is for the best. In fact, I think it best we forget about everything."
Did he regret it all? Had he kissed her and then realized the error in his feelings? No, that could not be! He had confessed to her much after all of that.
In that fortnight where they did not see each other, had he tamed his feelings? Surely, after all of this time, Andre was tired of suffering. So tired and anguished he was that his body fell into the jaws of illness. As if he had given up.
And why wouldn't he?
Why should Andre languish and spend his youth and his life chasing after a woman who not supposed to be a woman in the first place? A woman who had been blind to him and who saw him as nothing but an accessory. Or so he must think.
"But that's not true…" she whispered to herself, sobbing softly. He was never an accessory. He was her other half.
Had his heart finally closed its doors? It was hard to imagine otherwise after the way things concluded last night. She was too late.
…
Andre stared in the mirror as his fingers performed their habitual movement of tying his collar and dressing himself for the evening. Monsieur and Madame were dining home tonight with some friends and he was finally given the approval from the doctor to return to his duties, much to Grandmere's happiness. (Although, she was mostly happy to be rid of the guilt she felt towards inconveniencing Monsieur, rather than rejoicing in Andre's improving health.)
"About Fersen…"
Oscar's voice played out in his head for the umpteenth time.
She did not need explain to him. She had been very clear about her feelings the night they argued and he could not hold it against her any longer that she was in love with Fersen. Yet he could not help but wish her to be free of this unrequited love, not for him, but only so that she would not suffer. His heart felt heavy with regret that he could not alleviate that suffering for her. He had his own to contend with. And while being with her last night brought him so much respite, restoring his connection with her and his position in her life as her primary confidante, Andre found that there were some things on which he could not support her.
He had resolved to love her unconditionally despite everything, but he also made the important realization last night that he must shield himself from certain things if he were to continue on this path and not return to his old ways.
So, no. He did not want to hear about Fersen.
…
"Andre."
The crystalline alto voice resounded in the foyer as they crossed path before dinner.
"Oui, Oscar?"
"Oui, ma belle Oscar?" was what her heart really longed to hear, though. She contemplated him: Andre was the vision of health and vigor today. He was dressed in his finest livery, his hair swept away and tied back elegantly, the color had returned to his cheeks and his smile, that playful boyish smile, illuminated his face and brought out the sparkling green in his eyes.
She finally understood the expression of "being in full bloom" that was commonly attributed to certain women. Although, Andre had probably always looked like this. There wasn't really much different about him. He was just… Andre. Andre who had become irresistible.
"Oscar?"
She gently shook off her inappropriate thoughts. She really must get a hold of herself.
"Right, err…I was thinking about tonight, perhaps we could start off with the Duchess d'Argentueil's soiree, go on to Comte de Mercy's and end at the Jouvence ball. For the trajectory, I was thinking of –"
She trailed off, noticing a marked change in his expression. He was nervously scratching at the back of his neck, while shifting his weight from one leg to another, as he stared uncomfortably at the floor.
Growing up, Andre had never said 'no' to her about anything. At least, not directly. With time, however, she had come to understand that there were things he did not want to do, but he had done them anyway because she had probably pushed him into it. Like that time she forced him to jump into the frozen pond on the Jarjayes estate. She shuddered at the memory. Mostly at her lack of empathy towards him.
"What is it?" she prodded him.
"Ah, nothing," he laughed nervously.
She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a penetrating look.
"I… was under the impression you were on leave tonight…," he finally said under her scrutinizing gaze. He knew there was no way to escape this. "I didn't think you wanted us to patrol tonight so I…made other plans," He added, timidly.
"Ah," she uttered after a few seconds of laden silence. "That's alright. It's my fault, I did not clarify last night."
"It's just that I had been bed-ridden for so long and I knew that once we started on this mission, it will take long. Which, I don't mind!" He said, trying to redeem himself.
"No, of course! Of course," she swallowed with difficulty. "You… don't need to explain."
He could tell she was making an effort to be considerate but that last part seemed rather… pointed. And harsh.
"Well, I… suppose I should return to my duties," he said.
"Yes, I am sorry to keep you. We will start tomorrow, then," she replied, forcing a smile.
…
The curiosity consumed her like a raging monster. She picked at her plate and chewed her food ever so slowly, her eyes practically glued to that one servant in the deep green livery.
Where the hell was he going?
And was it just her or did she overhear one of the maids, that pretty tall one with the chestnut hair, say to him "I will see you later tonight", as she handed him the hollandaise sauce and potatoes that Grandmere had sent up from the kitchen.
Her grip tightened on her fork, which she was holding upright in an unbecoming and almost threatening manner.
She couldn't help but think back to the night Andre had taken ill. The maids had been over the moon to have been treated to the sight of him half-nude in his bed. She felt her face burning up at the memory. Thankfully, the man next to her took this opportunity to start a conversation, which distracted her from herself for some time.
Alas, the distraction only last a few minutes before her thoughts wandered, along with her eyes. Throughout the day, she had discretely followed him around, under the guise of needing one thing or another from whichever room he was in. But she had seen enough. The females of this household were practically swarming and swooning over him. The situation was out of control.
The worst part was that he seemed to enjoy it. While he did not outright encourage them or reciprocate, he did not exactly thwart their flirtations, nor did he discourage them. He was just… being his charming self.
Andre was a charming man, she slowly nodded to herself.
She took a sip of her wine to wash down the main course. Yes, Andre was even more charming than Fersen. And she now blushed to think that the main reason why she had never noticed that was because…
Because Fersen was a noble and Andre… was not.
She looked at the table around her. There were men and women seated at the table, adorned in jewellery, fine clothes and dining on expensive meats and rich wines. And around them, there were men and women who dedicated their lives, their sweat and blood, just to serve them, probably because they had no other options.
Granted, this was not the first time that Oscar has contemplated the injustice of their world.
However, she always considered it as an outsider looking in, but never as a participant herself.
And yet here she was, sitting at the table. Just as she had her whole life. And as integrated and vital Andre had been to her life, the fact was that, he never really had a seat at the table.
Moreover, what did she really know about Andre beyond the scope of her own world and his involvement in it?
Andre was human. A person in his own right with his own thoughts and interests and, evidently, activities. Many of those independent of her. She smiled and nodded in agreement to whatever the man next to her was now saying.
These pieces of Andre's life were not only independent of her, she realized, but also inaccessible. There was a divide between them, an invisible border, that could not be crossed. But he, Andre… He tried to cross it. He loved her and it burned him.
But Andre was also given an opportunity that she had not been given: he was permitted into her world. His love for her had been honest, full and sincere.
How could she claim to love him if she did not really know him?
Could she for once give up her seat at the table?
…
She excused herself immediately after supper, much to her father's disappointment, who loved to show off the accomplishments of his son and heir to his friends.
There was a suffocating feeling that had descended on her that she desperately wanted to escape.
"Oscar!" someone called out to her just as she was climbing the stairs two at a time.
She paused, her hand on the banister.
"Are you alright?" he came up and stood two steps behind her. "You seemed unwell."
"Oh?" she turned to him and smiled. "I'm just tired."
A silence registered between them as they contemplated each other. She exercised all her self-control not to fall into his arms right then and there, in her longing for some comfort from these destabilizing thoughts that threatened to upend her world. Whereas Andre held back a desire to take her in, for he could see a deep sadness and a harrowing loneliness in her eyes. She had probably always looked that way,though, but he had been too lost in his fantasy to notice.
"Perhaps you were right. I could use some rest," she finally said.
He nodded. "I will bring you some chocolate before I leave."
She smiled and thanked him.
They had barely parted when she blurted out: "Your friends… the ones you're going to see tonight… are they… are they nice people?"
Are they…pretty? Was what she really wanted to know.
Andre turned around to look at her, surprise registering on his features. "I… suppose." Although they're more like acquaintances… he wanted to say, but judged it the wrong moment to launch into a long explanation.
She nodded slowly. "Only that… well, it occurred to me that I've never really met your friends."
Andre scratched the back of his neck. For some reason, he felt his face flush. "I… don't have that many friends, really."
So, then, where are you going tonight, Andre? And with whom? She bit her lip. Are you going out to be with a woman? To forget me? Is it that pretty maid? Or someone else?
Before any of them could say anything, Grandmere emerged from the kitchens in a huff and swept an unwilling Andre back to his tasks.
If only… if only she could be part of his world for just one night.
As if the Universe heard her pleas, the moon shone itself from behind the clouds and cast a very bright ray through the windows of the Jarjayes manor, bathing the hallway in a mystical ethereal blue.
Blue…
And just like that, inspiration had struck her.
…
"Oscar! What a pleasant surprise, mon amie! »
« Fersen. »
Oscar stood up and they shook hands.
"Forgive me, I am in a bit of a rush this evening. I am attending the opera-"
He stopped short, blushing.
And Marie-Antoinette is probably waiting for you.
"Of course, I won't be long. I just came to ask you for a favor."
He poured her a glass of brandy. "Bien sûr, anything for you, my dear friend! What can I do for you?"
Words that could have sent me to heaven and back, if they were spoken just a month ago, she chuckled to herself.
She had planned this carefully and scripted exactly what she wanted to say to Fersen. And yet why was it so difficult to ask?
"Well, I…" she stammered. "You see, I need, erm… I need some expertise… that is, expert hands…"
Fersen stared at her quizzically.
"What I mean to say is," she cleared her throat. "That night, at the servant's ball…"
Fersen began to feel uneasy at the mention of the servant's ball.
"I… err… Well, I need you to do the same thing!" she finally blurted.
Fersen's cheeks turned positively red at the recollection of the clandestine moment he had shared with his friend.
"Ecoutez, Oscar…" he began, "Far from me to hurt you, and I humbly ask you to forgive me but I… cannot disobey my feelings. That night at the servant's ball… I think we were both swept up by the moment and- "
No, no, no! This was all wrong!
"Let me stop you right there," she intervened, having surmised where he was going with this. "Let me save us both from this utter mortification and make it clear that I am not asking you to kiss me!"
"Ahh!" Fersen let out an involuntary sigh of relief. He then produced a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. Oscar merely regarded him with an expression a few shades lighter than disgust. Why would that be his first thought?!
"I… didn't mean any offence," Fersen recovered himself, having realized that he was being overly dramatic.
She waved him off. "I was talking about Helga. I need to borrow your maid. And… a dress," she added the last part in a hushed tone. Therein lay the hurdle all along, for it had felt almost prohibitive to even utter the word 'dress' out loud.
Fersen raised his eye brows, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. This ought to be amusing.
"And for what purpose, if I may ask?"
She crossed her arms over her chest and exhaled. Here comes the script. "For a mission, of course. I am working on something that necessitates the utmost secrecy."
"An undercover mission?"
"Precisely."
"Sounds dangerous." Fersen struggled to hide his smile. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the Man in the Black Mask, would it?"
Oscar turned her face sharply away from him.
"As you know, he is a dangerous criminal."
"I suppose that depends on whom you ask…" Fersen muttered to himself as he poured another drink.
"Hm?"
"Nothing," he said, gesturing for her to hand him her glass for a refill. She obliged him.
Oscar fidgeted in place, her discomfort in Fersen's presence mounting by the second. Why did he need to ask so many questions?!
"I have no objection to lend you my maid," Fersen said, handing her back her glass. "But tell me… the man you are chasing tonight, is it the robber…"
Oscar had barely taken a sip from her drink -
"…or Andre?"
She convulsed violently as she choked on the liquor and Fersen had to call for a glass of water and pat her on the back a few times before she could regain composure.
"How did you know?" she said to him once the storm had calmed down and she could breathe again. "You knew from the servant's ball, didn't you? That's why you told me that story about your maid."
He chuckled. "You forget that I spent a lot of time with you two. I could tell from the way he looked at you…"
While that was not entirely untrue, in reality, the woman he had danced with at the servants' ball had let it slip that the popular handsome man dressed in the black cape and mask was probably the dashing valet of the Jaryjayes heir she had heard so much about, although, she could not remember his name! Once she had said that, Fersen could only see and hear Andre's voice. In his mind's eye, the mask had come off. He then mistakenly surmised that Oscar had come disguised purposefully so that she could spend some private time with her valet. A notion which was confirmed to him when they had been locked in a room together for more than half an hour. He had been surprised to learn afterwards that she did not, in fact, know who the Man in the Black Mask was.* Nor, it would turn out, did Andre know Oscar's identity until Fersen deliberately led him to the dress. It confused him further to see Andre so distressed about this discovery, he was no longer sure what to think.
"I suppose a man in your situation would know…," Oscar said gently.
A sad smile crossed his face and he took a large gulp to hide it. It was hard not to feel sorry for him.
"So, then," he said, as the liquor-induced burning in his throat subsided, "Is this for a clandestine rendez-vous?"
He decided to lighten the mood by teasing her.
Oscar's eyes widened with indignation. "Most certainly not!"
He looked at her questioningly and then scrutinized her. "You're not… stalking him… are you?"
Her face turned beet red.
"Oscar, I must say, I am not comfortable with this at all!" I cannot possibly be made complicit in yet another plot involving poor Andre Grandier. Girodelle's blackmail was already enough as is.
"It's just for one night, Fersen," she protested. What was his big issue?!
The thought of Girodelle made his head ache all of a sudden. Fersen pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated himself so much for what he was about to do.
"Surely, you cannot think that Andre is really the thief who has been on the loose?"
"Of course not!"
She fell right into his trap. "Then why are you going after him, disguised in the shadows, like a thief in the night?"
She blushed and said nothing.
"I am surprised at you, Oscar."
She looked up at him. Was Fersen… lecturing her?! My, have the tables turned indeed!
"That night after the servants' ball, you told me that no one knew Andre better than you. He is your closest friend. Your confidante! Think how much of his life he has given up for you. How much he…"
Fersen seemed to go on and on about Andre's sacrifices and his undying fidelity and unquestionable loyalty and what merits such treatment, etc etc, until she could no longer take it. She slammed her glass onto the table and stood up, panting.
"He is OUT!" she practically yelled, her voice shrill. "Every night. He has been going out. And no one knows where!"
Fersen closed his eyes momentarily, registering her reaction. Jealousy… she was jealous.
"And where do you think he goes that you feel the need to trail him around instead of doing the sensible thing of outright asking him. He is your valet, is he not? And surely, as your valet, he cannot refuse you an explanation and-"
SPLASH!
Without any predetermination, she had picked up her glass and emptied the contents right in Fersen's face.
"I… won't allow you to talk about him like that… He isn't just a 'valet', he doesn't answer to me, he's Andre… my Andre…"
They stood facing each other, eyes wide with shock and bewilderment.
"I see," Fersen smiled softly. He took out his handkerchief and proceeded to dry himself off.
Oscar bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I… should go."
"Wait," he stopped her just as she was at the door. "I'll call for Helga."
"Merci…"
"But Oscar," he cautioned. "Try not to ruin it this time, won't you?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'll pay you for the dress and Helga's time, you needn't worry."
He turned to her, his handkerchief still clinging to his jaw.
"I wasn't talking about the dress."
…
Andre Grandier pulled the collar of his coat closer to his face. He should not have gone out tonight. December was almost upon them and the air chilled him to the bone. The leaves and dry branches made loud crunching sounds as each step he took broke the gentle layer of frost that settled onto the ground.
He suddenly stopped in his tracks and glanced behind him for what was probably the fifth time this evening.
Nothing.
The path in the lightly wooded area was empty. It was quiet at this time and there was no one around. And yet…
Why did he have the nagging sensation that he was being watched?
But why would anyone watch him in the first place? He had to remind himself repeatedly that he was no one of consequence and did not merit being spied on.
That is, unless…
He stopped and looked about him once more. He was sure he heard a rustle.
There! Again!
A strong wind blew and the branches above him rubbed against one another, producing that sound again.
Or not…
No, Oscar was at home. Sleeping. He had seen her go up to her rooms. She looked positively done in. No, there was no way. He really needed to reign in these egotistical tendencies. Oscar was not looking for him.
…
That night, Andre Grandier came home a confused and befuddled man.
After wrestling with himself repeatedly on the way to the chapel, he had barely taken his usual spot at the back of the pews, when he noticed a woman who looked so remarkably familiar. But where… where, oh where, had he seen this brunette woman in a blue dress before, and oh merciful Lord, Good Lord in Heaven, it cannot be!
His breathing had gotten shallow and his palms sweaty. Either she was a ghost or his illness had caused him to see hallucinations because he absolutely refused to believe that that could be Oscar. Oh, but she very much resembled like the woman he met at the servants' ball. He could not mistake it. But how could that be?!
He hung his coat in the kitchens and climbed up the stairs slowly, retracing over his memory. The house was still abuzz on account of the small party. Madame and Monsieur usually stayed up late the odd time they were entertaining.
Andre went back and forth in his mind as he tended to some of his unfinished tasks. He oscillated between certainty and doubt. The woman had stood on the opposite side of the chapel in the back. He had to crane his neck repeatedly to be able to see her, and even then, half her face was concealed under a hood. And yet those eyes and those features!
He shook his head once more. No, it was certainly a hallucination. Or a case of mistaken identity. The mysterious woman did not even glance at him once. She had been utterly fixated by the Representative of the People, listening intently and dutifully, as he was supposed to be doing himself. And then, she had disappeared immediately after the speech ended, completely vanished into thin air. He could not find any trace of her nor anyone who had even noticed her, try hard as he did to look around frantically and ask everyone in the vicinity. Someone must have thought he was insane.
Deep in his recollections, Andre had not realized that his legs had finally led him back up to his rooms, nor had he realized how exhausted he felt at this point. His first day back at work had been a long day indeed and he felt breathless and spent.
Enough, Andre… he said to himself, as he began to remove his outer garments and get ready for bed.
He wondered if Grandmere had made a bath and was on his way out of his room to ask her when he bumped into her coming in.
"Grandmere!" he exclaimed.
She scurried into his room unceremoniously, ignoring him, as per usual. She was looking for something and he could not be bothered to ask. All he cared about was the bath.
"Is there a bath tonight?"
"Aha!" she exclaimed, triumphantly, as she bent down and picked something shiny off the floor. "There it is!"
"Grandmere, the bath?" Andre insisted.
"What? Oh, not tonight, I'm afraid Andre, the staff has been busy. Good night, dear."
Andre groaned.
As Grandmere passed him by, however, his eye caught onto the object that she had just looted from his room as she muttered to herself, "Oh my lady will be pleased!"
Unable to stop himself, he unceremoniously grabbed her hand and took a closer look: it was a small decorative fleur-de-lys button. The very same ones that adorned Oscar's wine-red uniform.
"Wh—what's this?"
"Andre!" Grandmere snapped her arm away, annoyed. "It's a button, what does it look like? It fell off Lady Oscar's doublet the night you fell ill and she stayed up to nurse you, much to my passionate objections, let me tell you! A lady should not do these things, least of all to her servants. Ah, but Lady Oscar is so kind, isn't she?"
Grandmere's praises trailed behind her as she left the room and turned down the hall back to her rooms.
Andre fell to his knees as the dawning truth knocked him down like a punch in the stomach.
It wasn't a dream.
She had been there…
He brought his fingers to his lips and closed his eyes. She had kissed him… These lips I know…
"Would it be alright with you if I did that Andre? Can you give me this? I know you have already given me everything and it might be too much to ask… Would it be alright if I…?"
He had heard her say these words. And he had fervently nodded his assent. That is, in his dream, or hallucination. And right after, he had felt the warmth of her lips on his and breathed in her scent just before he descended into oblivion.
Andre's body shook.
Could it really have been you, Oscar?
I tried… I'm trying. I'm trying so hard not to be in your way anymore, but I can't help but feel as though you are trying to tell me something. Or is it really all in my head? I can't… I can't take this anymore. Just tell me. Just tell me once and for all. If there is any small room for me in your heart. Oscar…
He ran and ran and ran. It felt like an eternity to get to her rooms from his. If she had been the woman at the chapel tonight, she could not possibly have had time to return and change into her clothes. Not without help, at least. And he knew there was no one in the household who was called into her room. In fact, no one had seen her after supper. So he would catch her in her costume and confront her. She had no chance to deny it.
He stood at her door, panting, sweaty and breathless. Ready to hear his sentence.
He knocked softly.
There came no answer.
He knocked again.
No answer.
Finally, he opened the door slightly and peeked in.
His breath caught and his heart pounded within his chest.
But all his agony and excitement melted as he took in the sight of her. There she was, limply sitting at her piano, her head resting on her right forearm, her hair dishevelled, her left arm dangling to the side.
There was an unfinished glass of wine next to her.
Her body moved gently up and down. She was fast asleep.
Andre, who had now quietly made his way over to her, gently brushed a stray lock of her away from her face.
"It wasn't you after all…"
Of course, it wasn't you. Andre, you fool.
With that, he bent down to pick her in his arms and transport her to bed.
It was then that he remarked a piece of parchment clutched tightly in her right arm.
He extricated it from her and his eyes widened with disbelief as he registered the fact that this was none other than the pamphlet that was distributed to the People at tonight's meeting.
…
* Author's Note: One reader pointed out that Fersen would not have been smart enough to deduce Andre's identity on his own, and I agree. I think Fersen was a bit dense on many occasions. I tried to remedy that by giving a bit of background to an earlier scene.
Author's Note 2: This chapter was inspired by the Arctic Monkey's song, "Do I wanna know?"
Have you got colour in your cheeks?
Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the tide
That sticks around like summat in your teeth?
Are there some aces up your sleeve?
Have you no idea that you're in deep?
I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week
How many secrets can you keep?
'Cause there's this tune I found
That makes me think of you somehow an' I play it on repeat
Until I fall asleep, spillin' drinks on my settee
(Do I wanna know?) If this feelin' flows both ways?
(Sad to see you go) Was sorta hopin' that you'd stay
(Baby, we both know) That the nights were mainly made
For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day
Crawlin' back to you
Ever thought of callin' when
You've had a few?
'Cause I always do
Maybe I'm too
Busy bein' yours
To fall for somebody new
Now, I've thought it through
Crawlin' back to you
So have you got the guts?
Been wonderin' if your heart's still open
And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts
Simmer down an' pucker up, I'm sorry to interrupt
It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of tryin' to kiss you
But I don't know if you feel the same as I do
But we could be together if you wanted to