“If you take safety completely off the list, Luce is never going to forgive me if you get stung by some plant and die.” He griped back, rolling his eyes for good measure. “I’ll offer a contribution, part of your birthday, yes? A compromise of sorts, and it gives me the excuse for annoying dear Papa for an advance too.” Not that he needed such things, even on his salary as a tenured professor his other avenues of income were numerous and varied.
A flash of scepticism was cast her way. “Unlikely, most married people are dull. But I find myself repeating myself, again. I say to you like I did to him, a partner - the right one - allows our obsessions but also stabilises our doubts simultaneously.” For a successful one, a balanced one. A union was like a well-balanced equation, it only balanced when its elements were equal or complimentary.
“Oh don’t mistake my turn of phrase for not agreeing with you, the story I tell is just merely different, the questions different.” The world was ruled by numbers, it was the basic foundation of … well everything.
And I do so know how much you like to annoy your Papa. Deal. She chuckled slightly as she rolled her eyes a little at the same time. I shall make every effort possible to now get stung by some plant and die. Now, I can't promise I won't get bit by something and not die. That is entirely out of my control, I have you know.
It was simple enough, everything was coming together in her brain. This would get her a degree finally, maybe even towards mastery, so much further than someone of her station should be able to rise. Daughter of a scullery maid, raised in kitchens. She certainly was socially climbing, but she had no desire outside of her own learning. The matter of a spouse would lie for another day, it was a fear that Rene wouldn't be able to understand -- a female of her age, even one of low birth, this far into her life with absolutely no prospects.
She had rich backers, a house hold that offered her shelter, schooling. She should be happy with all that, but life simply may not be nice to her in the future. She needed something to fall back on. What was it that made you choose numbers, after all, Rene? Why not language, or the science, you have a mind for both, numbers are truthful, I know, but.. I fear that I do not appreciate their artistry as much as you do.
As is my duty, being the spare, he’d snigger. Then he too, would roll his eyes as she repeated his words back, mocking them and choosing to tease him instead. Won’t be saying that when suddenly your arm is melting off! He’d retort, laughing and shaking his head at her. Don’t throw your future away over such a mundane thing, make it count.
As a noble, he’d been expected to marry another of similar stature and he had almost achieved it. His perfect match. All for it to crumble, not just for him, but nearly the whole Dumont line. Ettie was the only woman who understood him, who soothed him when the world became so irrational. Life as a bachelor was just natural when the love of his life remained out of reach.
She did well to pull his attention away from spiralling into a deeply rooted wound, appealing to his other great love. His smile returned, thoughtful and with a sigh Rene would ponder on it briefly. It… is the universal language, where all things interconnect. Language, Science, Art, Music, they all root themselves in a numerical sequence. His fingers demonstrated, balancing the violin in a way that proved his point. Music has tones and semi tones. Harmonies, rhythm, all patterns that when broken down are a tapestry of numbers. One could argue that if you understood numbers, the equations, you understood a great many things all at once.
Good, she had read his mercurial moods correctly and had successful pulled him out, the crease of his brow and the way he had looked just then a good tell, as much as he would hide them, she had know Rene for a much of her life, and clueless though she may be at times, she was adept at reading the only other man in her life that was like a brother to her. If I ever do throw my future away I promise I will make it be such an epic tale that bards centuries from now will sing of it.
She slid off the fainting chair and came to sit on the floor beside his legs, leaning her head over on his knee as he talked. She liked when Rene would teach her things, in the form of rapid fire questions and answers. Hmm, It's almost as if once one understands one, two, three, four, then all of the rest of life opens up into a variable feast for the mind. How one much feed the mind as well as rhe body.
Her stomach growled then, as if on cue, right as she had gotten comfortable there on the floor. Her eyes narrowed a bit as she thought about what a treasonous stomach she had, before she sighed. Is Madame Jardain's still open? I could do for a late tea set. She would extend the offer to him for a light meal out, and if he declined she'd see herself back off home so she didn't over extend her stay. Between the rain and the chill of the early evening though, it probably wouldn't do to try an outing.
There were few in his life that understood him well and had the facilities to put up with his swings of mood, his strikes of fancy and when work overloaded him to the point of madness. Yet, work had been one of the few things that had kept him sane, helped him work through the web of deceit that had landed the Dumont’s in their predicament long since past. The predicament orchestrated by one Manchette, who now was wed to the woman Rene had been intent on making his own.
Claude would forever hold the true master key to the man, though his other close ones helped soften her absence. Teaching Ophelia helped as a distraction, along with keeping an eye on their friend Mica’s niece.
Rene again rolled his eyes at her, his head shaking with a sigh. You’d do well to live how you wish, convention be damned. Be glad the Game is not to your tastes, nor are you required to enter its ridiculous schemes.
A brow arched in her direction when the rumble of her stomach reached his ears. Then he paused, staring off before suddenly pivoting back and forth to propel him to standing. Madame Jardain’s has a pitiful selection. We’ll go to the Granary, then I can have wine and you can sip your tea leaves. Perhaps guess their dregs towards our future.
Thank goodness I'm in no position to be part of it's schemes in the first place. I thank my station of birth just about every single day when I see the pain it's brought to you and Luce both, and then others too. Such a silly little thing to begin with. She laughed as she scooted aside, watching him up to his feet as she reached her hands up for assistance off the floor.
So you say about Madame Jardain, but I will not contest the assertions about the Granary, it does have the superior teas, and the spoons are the right size for tea. Jardain's spoons are just a little too big to be a proper tea spoons, but now you're talking wine and I know that I enjoy the bubbly type. But you're right, she paused, pointing at him as she nodded her head gently, anticipating the next, I should not drink on an empty stomach, nor when I have to be up in the morning for studies and running the laundry out to the laundress. The last time I tried to do one of Luce's good shirts from his suits, I may have accidentally set the stain instead of lifting it. She shrugged as she got to her own feet.
Not something I plan on recreating any time soon, but how was I supposed to know that particular fabric wasn't meant to have certain soaps used on it, this is why the laundress is the superior option in this case.
That silly thing can mean the difference between life and death. Trust the both of us, when we warn you not to involve yourself in it. He’d remind her, brow arching to implore her to remain as far away from politics as possible.
Then she dared to question his taste, his. Jardaaaain overcharges for scented petals from inferior supplies. The Granary is a far more upclass establishment in all regards barr its restrooms, they could do with updating, but honestly, who remains too long in a privy? It was a rhetorical question, forgotten the moment she mentioned the bubbly. An memory flashed, of her being quite ill on its effects, that earned her a look and nod when she curtailed the idea. He needn’t remind her of the fountain incident some birthday’s ago.
And suddenly she was doing the work of a maid and Rene let his palm rub his face with disdain. Dear gods woman, is there a lack of servants in Luci’s? Must I provide you with a washer woman? You are a scientist, not a maid. The rebuke gentle, more out of frustration of her complete rejection of the resources available to her. Shaking his head Rene parted ways with the violin, storing it away safely in its box and locked up tight, his hand lingering over it before turning to her. If you used a washer woman in the first place you’d not have this problem. Do better dear, let the help, help. It’s what they are paid to do.
Their destination decided, he’d open the door, offering her to take the lead on their way out to the main foyer and their awaiting coats.
Ophelia rolled her eyes, lovingly, in a way that only a sibling could to annoy another sibling, as he mentioned letting the help be help. You seem to forget that I am the help, more times than not. Even if I am rather dreadful at it. We're fine, I think. I'm transitioning away from household activities and more to my studies now that Luce is back in charge. She stepped with him into the foyer, getting her coat, and waiting for him to have his, before she held her arm out for him to take. She wasn't about to have new people in the house with the baby just arrived. And besides she still needed to clean out Luce's father's old study, like he had asked her to do. He seemed to put faith in her to make sure that everything ended up where it was supposed to go.
Away with us then, and out of Nanny's hair for the evening. She turned back towards the house and called out. Mistress Fee, I am stealing him for the evening, I promise we won't end up in the fountain again, singing the latest from the playbills.
