Midnight Schemes (Tag: King Henri)

[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

Victor was quite aware that the masquerade had gone late into the night, though he had not himself been present. The reasons for this were varied, even complicated—though the prevailing one was simply that to attend would mean to horribly antagonize a forty year old count with whom he had quarreled before. The comtesse was a much younger woman, pretty in the frivolous way that girls married off at seventeen to much older men often were.

Seducing her away from him had been a pleasant challenge—but the resulting quarrel had been less pleasant. Rather than spend the entirety of the evening circling one another in hostility, Victor had elected instead to venture into the other lively quarters of Paris and take his entertainment elsewhere. He had, without any doubt, succeeded. The auburn-haired girl who slept in his bed at that moment was perhaps not of the same breeding and quality as any he might have found at the ball, but she was pretty enough and certainly lively. And in the morning I can turn her out and nobody will know the difference.

The housing that had been provided him was comfortable, though there was something almost lonely about it. The stables were near at hand, and it was without doubt the closest to the palace that he would ever live. This stroked his ambition in a way he found most pleasurable. The girls helped with the loneliness, of course, but it was different from living in the closer-knit military communities he had become so accustomed to. No one questioned his comings and goings, even if it would be the easiest thing in the world for him to influence the malleable young mind of the king.

The night air on the little balcony felt clear, despite being within the city. He was often restless after nights like these, and found it difficult to tolerate lying in the same bed as the girl for too long. She had been there for a single purpose, and he preferred not to let her forget that or imagine otherwise. The smell of flowers from the garden below him wafted up, and he could almost imagine that he was standing at the window of his boyhood room at his father's estate.

It did not quite qualify as nostalgia. He did not miss the estate, though it had given him a happy enough childhood. Still, he was happy that his brother stood to inherit the thing and not he himself. The idea of managing it was nearly revolting; the only use he might put it to was the breeding of horses. His brother had the patience for proper crops and doing business, Victor preferred army life.

Victor had assumed that he would be left essentially alone for the rest of the night, free to dispatch the girl as he pleased in the morning without any sort of embarrassment. Likely two-thirds of the aristocratic population of Paris would straggle out of bed halfway through the next afternoon, half of those still hungover from the night's festivities. He stepped back into the room to pour himself a glass of champagne. Perhaps he was not at the party, but there was nothing saying that he ought to deprive himself of some of the pleasures of celebration.

This assumption of a quiet night, however, made the knock at his door something of a mystery to him. With a sigh, he shouldered into a dressing robe and went to the door, half expecting to see a groom telling him of some emergency in the stables that he would have to help attend to.

[HENRI D'ARTOIS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]1036 WORDS FOR VICTOR Notes here: Caught red handed! SCHEMES [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri could not sleep. It was absolutely useless. He'd decided that all ready. Slowly he rolled over in his bed and stared at the curtains drawn around his four-poster - the traditional bed of French Kings. Within a few hours it would be time for his lévee - the traditional rising ceremony of the French king. Several courtiers and others would be present. He didn't really enjoy the lévee, but it was traditional, and there were more important things to debate rather than who got to watch him dress. At least he was allowed to put his underthings on in private! However, he wondered if lévee would be the same this morning. He couldn't imagine, having just retired about an hour before, and mostly drunk, that the courtiers or anyone else who had attended the festivities - either those on the street or those at the palace, would be ready (or able) to get up and come to a rising ceremony. Perhaps he would be allowed to sleep in this morning. He smirked happily. Except for one thing. He couldn't fall asleep. He was still strung up from the party earlier in the evening. He supposed it might partially have to do with the dancing and excitement which had occurred at the fete, or it might have to do with the amount of petit fours he'd consumed. Too much sugar was liable to do that to a boy. It was one of the few perks, he thought, about being a boy on his own without a mother to watch what he ate. Of course, he had to be certain to clean his teeth carefully because he didn't want them to get rotten - but he could still eat a lot of candy, chocolate, and cakes without someone to watch his every move! However, Henri didn't think it was the candy or the dancing which was keeping him awake. It was a memory - a memory of the way Chauvelin was looking at Marguerite Blakeney while they were waltzing together. It troubled Henri in ways he was only, at thirteen, just beginning to understand. The love of a woman was a powerful thing, and he only ever remembered seeing a man look that way with a woman one other time - it had been his own reflection in the looking glass the day he'd opened the invitation to Maria Antonia's wedding. He knew what a powerful thing it was to be so in love with a woman and then to apparently lose her - a girl who had meant so much to him he'd have given her the world - or the moon if he could get it. She had promised that she'd love him forever - even when he was a head shorter than her and she'd had to lean down the time they kissed. That had been the look Chauvelin had had. It troubled him to think that someone who had been his friend for the last two years... might also be horribly sad. He finally gave up sleep as a lost cause and moved from his bed, leaving Chasse fast asleep next to him in the little space he always occupied and had done ever since he'd been properly housebroken (or palacebroken... as case may be). No need to wake those creatures who could sleep. He sighed as he quickly pulled on some clothes, just a simple pair of breeches, boots, and a shirt this time- nothing fancy as he doubted he'd meet anyone anyway. He crept down through the darkened hall, through the palor, from whence he absconded out of the side door and through a few passage ways with a meat pie in each hand - just in case he got hungry - being that he was at that age where boys are hungry all of the time. He knew where he was going without the aid of a taper or lantern and let only the moon light the way as he hurried across the sleeping, silent palace grounds toward Captain D'Anthès' apartments. If anyone could help him with the quandry he was currently having - it would be his riding instructor. He understood that he probably was not supposed to know about his riding master's penchent for liking women and wine - but he did know. He ws proud that the man treated him more like a confidante than a child and had shared many private details about his life with Henri. Details that, if he thought about it, were just the kind of thing he needed help with. Not for himself of course - at least not yet. No... for his friend. Before long, Henri had scrambled up the steps which led to Victor's rooms above the riding stables and knocked quietly on the door, hoping not to awaken the man if he was sleeping. Now that he thought about it, he might be because Henri hadn't seen him at the masquerade that evening though he'd seen to it that the man would indeed receive an invitation. No.. something else must have kept him away from the evening's festivities. It also didn't take Henri long to spot what it was when the Captain finally answered the door a few moments later. Henri's ready eyes took in the situation as his lips turned into a quiet smirk as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Across the room in the Captain's bed there lay beautiful (and nude) woman, fast asleep. Henri attempted to avert his eyes modestly, but the curious teenage boy in him found this somewhat impossible given the sweep of her gorgeous long hair over the perfection of cream colored skin and curves which made up her body. He smirked and nodded to her looking up at Victor. "Nice. Now I know what had you so occupied tonight." He managed, a very soft giggle spluttering from his lips. "Have a nice time?" He knew he was being cheeky but couldn't resist. "Though it's actually kind of a good thing because girls is what I need your help with...." He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "I have a friend that I want to .. fix up... Think you could help me?" [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

The young—and shockingly awake—face of the king was not what Victor had expected to encounter on the other side of the door. On the one hand it was a relief; no emergency to deal with, then, at least not of the sort a groom would coming running to him regarding. On the other hand, he realized he should perhaps have closed the door to the bedroom, clearly visible from the open door. He moved to try to block the boy's line of sight, though he knew that he had already seen.

“More than that,” Victor explained as hastily as he dared. He didn't consider it entirely appropriate to delve into the depths of his conflicts with other aristocratic men, but neither did he really wish to be seen as someone who had declined an invitation from the king to spend the night with some common girl from the street. Hardly common except in ancestry and upbringing, he thought, smirking at the recollections that floated, unbidden, to his mind.

He let the second half of the king's question go unanswered. Not only was he certain that the boy knew the answer as well as a child his age could understand it, he didn't consider it the realm of appropriate conversation with him—neither as his student nor as the King of France. He heard the sound of sheets rustling behind him and glanced over his shoulder. The girl, at least, was still asleep. He looked back to Henri.

An interesting request. Victor could scarcely consider himself a matchmaker; his familiarity with well-bred women was generally of a sort that was supposed to be kept as far out of the public eye as possible. The same went for girls like the one currently in his bed as well, of course, but there was a difference between a meaningless night with a girl whose name no one would ever know, and precisely the same series of actions with some vicomte's daughter.

“I suppose that depends on what your friend is looking for...” He glanced back into the room again, then sighed. “Come in, if you like.” He went quietly to the bedroom door to draw it closed, careful not to let it make much sound. Then he gestured to the scattered pieces of furniture in the main room, inviting Henri to sit where he pleased.

[HENRI D'ARTOIS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]719 WORDS FOR VICTOR Notes here: Let the games begin. SCHEMES [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri couldn't help but be disappointed when Victor moved into his line of sight blocking his view from the open door to the bedroom and the pretty auburn-haired girl who slumbered in his riding master's bed. He, unable to resist some of his boyish fantasies, caught himself staring curiously around Victor's body which was blocking the way, even though he knew it wasn't wholly polite. Well.. he did just have to act like a normal teenage boy once in a while... He was impatient for time to wipe away his childish features and turn him into a young man capable of being loved by a girl... and not just physically (though of course that did preoccupy his mind more times than he confessed to - particularly if one counted confessing to his Father Confessor who he expected probably had never had thoughts like that in his entire life he was so old.. Maybe he was on to something. He'd gotten rid of the last riding instructor he'd asked for because the man had been so old he was more concerned with striding about than actually getting Henri on the back of a horse. Maybe he needed to ask for a less-than-thirty year old Father Confessor... then again, he liked the old man.. even if he seemed ancient and unreachable to concerns of boys Henri's age who had little interest in becoming priests!) He liked to think that he'd been loved by Maria Antonia - but maybe not as much as he thought as she was marrying someone else. Oh well. don't think about that now. He thought to himself for the millionth time. He looked up at Victor with a slightly confused expression on his face at the 'More than that' response. Did he mean he'd had more than a nice time or that more than the nice time had kept him away from the ball? He considered this for a moment, disappointed by the fact that the second question did not garner more details. For a man who had something of a rakish reputation - at least if the whisperings of the servants were to be listened to, and Henri had found that servants usually knew about everything - he certainly was reluctant to share any details about any of what he got up to on his personal time. Perhaps he would be able to prod some kind of detail out of him later on. "My friend doesn't exactly know he's looking. I'm looking for him." He ventured cautiously. "He's got his heart set on someone he can't have because she's with someone else - married to someone else - and I don't think she's the kind of girl for... Well.. Let's put it this way. It'd do him good to find someone else to be interested in. He's practically pining away." Okay... so maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. Oh well. "So it's going to need to be someone..." He paused looking for the word he wanted. "Extraordinary. Someone who can turn his head.. you know. Brilliant looks.. " He paused again trying to think. Being young and hasty, he actually hadn't stopped to consider what other characteristics Chauvelin might want in a girl to hold his interest. It would need to be more than whatever Adrienne was offering him for as much interest as he'd paid to her at the Masquerade that evening. "My friend's older than me .. so not someone my age.. you understand. She should.. have money.. status.. land.. preferably titled, and her intelligence is of the utmost importance. Not only that she be smart... but that she can defend her intelligence.. argue with him a bit. He likes that kind of thing. She ought to be willing to challenge the rules a bit if need be even. And she should go to church." The latter was something Henri suspected Paul would actually PREFER to avoid. So shoot me. Someone to have a little good influence on his Christian soul wouldn't go amiss. "And not someone with young children on -any- account." He continued his list as he followed the man inside his apartments, mind now distracted so he hardly even cared when Victor closed the bedroom door. "And .. someone immediately free to date him." He added as an afterthought. [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

“My age, older, younger?” That Henri's friend was simply not the boy's age was hardly any help. There were hundreds of aristocratic women in France, and Victor knew more than a few of them. He was concerned that the boy's characteristic enthusiasm might mean that he was decidedly more interested in setting up his friend than the friend might be in actually finding someone, but Victor had rarely encountered a man whose lovesickness could not at least be treated by a night with a pretty girl.

If he wanted a religious one, though, perhaps the goal wasn't for a night to make the man forget his woes. Victor found many of the particularly religious ones too cautious, too caught in their own ideas of morality to be particularly fun. Some were resistant even to dressing well, for fear that some man's eyes might be drawn unchastely.

“If you're worried about children then I guess he's old enough to be looking at widows,” Victor responded with a smirk. “But let me ask you this... what does he have to offer the lady in question?”

Victor knew well enough that women with the strength of character Henri suggested would very rarely be ready to throw themselves to any man who came their way. Most would even be innately suspicious of a man's intentions, especially for some dazzlingly radiant woman with everything in her background to recommend her to remain single. “You have to understand, women like you describe tend to be... in demand.”

Mostly if they were young, of course, though there was always the occasional story of some man who married a woman too old to give him children. The implication was that it was generally for love, though Victor could not bring himself to believe there was much to that. What was love, after all, beyond a sort of damaging infatuation that turned good soldiers into deserters?

“You set rather high standards, but I won't say it's impossible.” Mentally, Victor began to consider the wealthy widows he knew about. Any that seemed to be showing their age he eliminated immediately; a few he decided likely would by no means fall into the category of intelligent. It still left a number of prospects.

[HENRI D'ARTOIS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]598 WORDS FOR VICTOR Notes here: None now. SCHEMES [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri followed Captain D'Anthès across the room to find a place to sit down while they talked. Though, as his teacher began questioning him about the specifics of this set up, he was starting to get more and more unsure of it. There were a million things that could go wrong. For one, what if Paul didn't want to be set up at all and he got Captain to do all of this work for nothing because Paul turned her away. Or what if she didn't compare to Margot Blakeney. That would be awkward both for the woman in question that he personally would be responsible for implicating and for Paul who would likely be irritated with him - which wasn't a horribly difficult thing to accomplish (though Paul's bark was usual worse than his bite). But the point was, he was not terribly difficult to irritate, and Henri did not want to be responsible for doing it right now. And if none of that went wrong, then there was the point that, Victor was now asking him a whole bunch of questions about the woman he was hoping for that he hadn't bargained on. If he couldn't come up with the right answers that only increased the chances that Paul was going to hate the choice AND that Victor was going to get irritated and give up looking. No.. No no.. he had to make this work. He needed to be smart.. and positive.. think up the right solutions. And if he did everything right .. then it could be amazing. The best things in life took risks right? He took a deep breath before answering. "My friend is older so.. probably older. But not a whole lot older. She should be maybe 39 or 40. Around there. Give or take.. But like I said.. she needs excellent looks - and probably good fashion sense too.. not a prude... he wouldn't like that in the least." Henri smirked slightly trying to imagine Chauvelin parading around a girl who was too much proper and not enough fun. He'd get bored of her as soon as he'd gotten her in bed - if he did.. considering.. "Young widows maybe" He emphasized. "She doesn't need to be a widow or even that old - just someone who isn't particularly likely to be having anymore children or doesn't particularly want more." He stopped, considering the new question which had been posed to him. What -did- Paul have to offer? Well.. honestly.. he had things to offer.. but they weren't the type of things that were likely to attract a woman of the calibre or type that Henri was suggesting Victor try to locate. He was going to have to do some creative thinking on this one. "Dashing good looks.. a lot of intelligence.. that he can use in more than traditional ways.. you know.. he can think outside of the box. Very open minded about people or things who are different.. he knows how to show a girl a good time I expect, but I think .. he.. knows how to be serious too and... would.. probably.. make a devoted husband eventually." Okay.. he knew he was stretching the truth a little bit, but he personally believed those things to be truthful even if Chauvelin himself might not. "He's well-off enough to take care of her needs... has connections outside of France if she wants to travel.. um.. has some land.. is a knight.. Has few vices - not addicted to anything.. " "And good.. I should hope it's not impossible." [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

“To find a forty year old woman who is neither a prude nor looks like one,” Victor answered with amusement, “I think a widow is very much the best option.” There would always be those widows—many of them young—who missed a man's attentions, and it was they who would strive to maintain their looks and not lose themselves entirely in less titillating aspects of life as Victor saw it.

Henri's account of what the man had to offer, however, concerned Victor slightly. He didn't sound like a bad man, no—but neither did he sound like the sort of catch the highest echelon of wealthy widows might want to pursue. Of course, there was no predicting ladies' infatuations—but those generally had to form on their own.

“You almost make it sound as if he plans to pursue de Rothschild's wife,” the joking tone had not left his voice. If the best a man could offer was open-mindedness in exchange for wealth, that would be the route to go had it been available. “Of course, I'm afraid she's not an option at the moment.” He gestured at his ring finger with the other hand, a playful smirk on his face.

It was easy, somehow, to forget his pupil's youth. The boundless enthusiasm could remind him, and the boy's occasional lapses in confidence as well. But over the time since they had met, Victor had come to realize that Henri had the potential to be something truly special—not just a king of convenience, but a better one than even he, staunchly monarchist, could have hoped.

“I don't suppose you happen to know his tastes,” he said after a moment's thought. Beauty was something not all men could agree on, and Victor—though he supposed his preferences were standard enough—knew better than to assume that this unknown man would automatically be attracted to a woman Victor found beautiful. “Physically, I mean.” Even a description of this man's apparently unrequited love might help, though he knew also that some men would prefer the replacement look nothing like the original.

“It's certainly not impossible, though it sounds that he does not necessarily want a woman I can recommend through experience.” It always seemed to please Henri when Victor hinted at his own proclivities, though he doubted the young king would have found it so amusing if he were not the age to start feeling such things himself. “Perhaps we're better off dealing with my mother's acquaintances.”

[HENRI D'ARTOIS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]590 WORDS FOR VICTOR Notes here: none currently. SCHEMES [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;] Henri considered carefully, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table in front of him and settling his chin into his arms to rest there. "All right. I trust you. If you say a widow is the way to go, then that's what we'll do. I'll just have to try not to picture grey ladies with sagging bodies." He smirked vaguely, his eyes twinkling up at Victor in the relative darkness. He supposed what Victor said made sense. A younger widow who was hoping to be remarried would do a great deal to keep her appearance up because, if she didn't, she'd never attract a man. The younger ones who'd never been married were certainly out. Not only were they far too young for Chauvelin, but they likely would want children - something that Henri had the feeling Chauvelin did not want. They'd never exclusively discussed children, but Chauvelin did not suffer fools and often had little patience. He might make a good father, but he also might not - it would definitely have to be the right child. And children, Henri thought to himself, were not like going to pick out a puppy - you didn't get any guarantees that it would be the right kind of child until you were stuck with it. It was better not to chance it where Paul was concerned. Henri smirked slightly at the joke about the de Rothschilds "Well.. she is very nice looking. I've seen her portrait." He pointed out simply. "Sadly she's quite taken I think." He winked slightly. His attention was soon distracted, however, by thinking about what Chauvelin's preferences were in looks - something else he hadn't considered up to this point. It was somewhat difficult setting up a man who didn't particularly -wish- to be set up. Or at least, Henri didn't know he was opposed to the woman part of it - but he suspected that Chauv wouldn't like even a friend messing around in his life. Too bad. He was going to anyway, because he wanted Chauv to be happy. "Hm.. well .. I haven't talked to him directly about it. He brought Adrienne to the ball tonight.. but.. he didn't pay her very much attention. He dumped her with someone else most of the evening. So maybe not that? I don't know if he's interested in her physically - but he certainly didn't seem to be attentive to her if he is.." But Henri stopped thoughtfully as he brought himself to remember that that made little sense as far as preferences given that he was certainly attracted to Marguerite.. "But maybe not because the lady he likes has kind of dark hair too... I've never seen his reaction to a blonde.. Really.. I think as long as she's beautiful he'd probably like her." He paused, biting his lip in thought as he frequently did. Henri couldn't help but smirk - though tried not to wind up giggling when Victor suggested that he wasn't looking for someone Victor could recommend through experience. "She should be good though. Even if you don't know from your own... experience... I'm afraid I don't know your mother well enough to know if her acquaintances are likely to be good candidates for him. I suspect, though, that you'll be able to find someone amazing. He's probably not beyond.." He nodded vaguely over at the bedroom. "But I think he needs more than that to.. move forward. Because if he only needed that, he could easily arrange for it himself." [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

“Clearly, you have yet to be introduced to any particularly ravishing widows,” Victor smiled. His thoughts had been much the same at Henri's age, though time had of course taught him that reality different from that boyish perception of the world and the women in it. “The first woman I was ever with was a widow.”

A widow older than himself, naturally, as he'd been too young for marriage then. He hoped that, in mentioning it, he hadn't piqued Henri's curiosity so much that he would be forced to tell the story—he probably shouldn't have said anything about it. The king already knew enough about the substance of his personal life without realizing the details.

It didn't surprise Victor that Henri had seen the portraits of de Rothschild's wife. The family was famous, whether he admired them or despised them. Victor himself had never been sure what to think; the woman was certainly beautiful, he could at least grant them that. “And so, being that she's taken, I'll have to find an alternative.” He smirked.

It concerned Victor, vaguely and slightly, that this man—whoever he was—was either unable or unwilling to prospects for himself. “Has he ever been married himself?” Henri's story about the man's behavior at the ball suggested that he might not be as attentive a lover as the boy believed, and that was itself a problem. If Victor led a woman into a trap with another man, it would tarnish his reputation in a way that would harm even the rakish side of his existing one.

There was a difference between seducing women, and setting them up with other men who would surely abandon them. Everyone knew that he would not be a faithful lover, but that didn't extend to everyone else that he knew. Or, in this case, a man he did not know.

Henri's trust in his judgment was endearing. “Well, I will do my best.” He stretched slightly, leaning back in his chair. The late night was beginning to wear on him. “There's a vicomtesse, she was widowed a few years ago. Pretty enough, last I heard she has been more responsible for managing their estate than her son. He's a grown man, but,” Victor shrugged. “Perhaps he should not have been the eldest son. His talents do not seem to lie in handling their estate.”

[HENRI D'ARTOIS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]461 WORDS FOR VICTOR Notes here: So Eager. SCHEMES [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri grinned slightly as Victor pointed out that he must not have been introduced to any particularly ravishing widows. Well, that was true enough. Henri hadn't met a great number of widows to begin with. That certainly wasn't the direction anyone was looking as far as introductions. Part of him felt relieved that the Chouannerie hadn't started trying to locate a wife for him, honestly. Of course, Henri was interested in the finding of a wife and was curious about who she might be and what she might be like and, moreover, what having a wife at all might be like. But how Victor described widows definitely didn't match his mental image. He supposed with the most recent comment he'd have to trust him on that and made a mental note to question him vividly on the topic of the aforementioned first experience at some point. He desperately wanted to know all of the details of that, but it simply wasn't the proper time. For now, his focus was on the task he'd come for - almost with the precision of a soldier striding up to the front line of a battle intent on a victory and nothing less. But he would remember that snippet. Oh yes he would. Victor distracted him then with a question about Chauvelin's past marital history. Another thing, he realized, he'd never taken the time to try to pry into. He knew the man was not currently married.. but that meant little for his previous adventures or, considering he wasn't currently married, perhaps misadventures. Henri wasn't sure which, but was now keen to find out about that as well. However, he had no clue where Chauv was, and there would be no finding out tonight. He'd just need to fumble his way along the best he could. "I'm not sure.. maybe a long time ago. Maybe not. I don't think recently if ever. Perhaps he's just never met the right girl though. He's not the kind to go out of his way to try you know - to find a girl I mean. But I think he could use one.. He's just too.. focused on other things to try very hard I guess. But maybe if the right girl was presented to him.. that would change." He paused thoughtfully for a moment as he listened to Victor's description. "That sounds promising, Captain D'Anthès!" He said, unable to keep his excitement from flooding over. Suddenly he had an idea. He grinned brilliantly. "Hey! What if... What if we ask them. You ask her and I ask my friend.. to meet us at a place. Like she thinks she's meeting you and he thinks he's meeting me.. but in reality.. neither of us are going to be there....." [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

Victor nodded again, somewhat thoughtful. “I suppose it doesn't matter much, as long as he isn't presently married.” He smirked again, shooting Henri a somewhat sly look. “At least, if a marriage match is what you have in mind for him.” Victor's record was itself proof that marriage was no prevention for affairs—he had never been married, but that certainly did not mean that he had not shared nights with married women. The danger was its own thrill, sometimes.

“Never expect a man to change much for a woman,” he warned him gently. “But... it is also wise not to discount the possibility.” He supposed that, perhaps, was what young romantics meant by love. He had never experienced it, and the noble feeling they tried to describe he suspected did not exist except in their own idealized thoughts—but, real or not, what they thought they felt could change their behavior.

Usually, though, those were in men younger than himself. Not older. He doubted Henri's friend—some courtier? He wondered who it might be, though he supposed it had to be someone vetted by the Chouannerie—was anywhere near young enough to be subject to such things anymore. If he ever was.

Just the same, he nodded at the boy's plan. He was not so close to Marie Roquefeuil for it to be particularly easy to contrive a reason to meet, but from his rather foggy recollections of the woman's estate—he had been there with his parents as a boy, before Marie's husband the old vicomte had died—he remembered the horses. Good horses, good enough that he could contrive an interest in purchasing one. And good enough that the vicomtesse would likely assume a promising colt would be the cause of his letter and save him from having to write a direct lie he might be caught in.

If it came down to it, he would even be willing to buy a young horse to cover his tracks. Henri was nearing the point in his lessons that he could conceivably handle one, though whether he would find one to his taste among the Roquefeuil-Blanquefort stock Victor did not know. They had never been a large farm, nothing like a formal stud farm—and too young a horse would be useless to the boy king.

Those, he decided, were concerns for the morning—and concerns that might not even have to be addressed. Victor had money to add another mount to his string if necessary, could even claim that Atys' lameness pushed him to consider the use of his own well-trained mount for lessons and therefore required him to embark on the training of a new horse for personal use...

Of course, that part wasn't true. But Marie Roquefeuil would never know that.

[HENRI D'ARTOIS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]490 WORDS FOR Victor Notes here: N/A. SCHEMES [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri listened carefully to the advice Victor suggested to him. He guessed it was true - men could likely as not not be trusted to change their ways of life for a girl. That sort of thing just didn't happen. Particularly, he thought to himself, a somewhat middle aged pushing on old man who was used to life as probably a bachelor having never had to rely on another person or make it home in time for dinner or owe anything to anyone. And yet, somehow, Henri got the feeling that Chauvelin needed that. He wasn't the crazy, wild youth he probably had been at one time. He was growing into an old man before Henri's very eyes - even the thirteen year old was astute enough to see this. Perhaps his life needed to change as his age did. Perhaps he needed one solid person he could go to and trust to love and love him back - if only he could accept something like that. He hoped he could, for his own sake. Henri would merely have to provide the tools to make that happen. If he was fortunate and Victor chose the right girl - perhaps it would all actually work out. He hoped it would anyway and hope was all he had at this point. But it was enough to go on for now. "Well.. We can hope I suppose." Echoing his thoughts aloud. "If we choose the right girl, maybe he'll want to change to impress her." He pointed out thoughtfully. "It worked when I was younger. I was sort of.. interested in a girl.. I would have done anything to spark her interest." He would smirk at the memory, but the realization that the wedding invitation for Maria Antonia was still upstairs made him more reticent than he would normally have been and his expression stayed quite sober. He couldn't quite bring himself to laugh and joke about that time now with the reminder so clear that she'd forgotten him or decided someone else was better. He hurried ahead with the plans to keep his mind out of that dark corner of thought from whence he knew it was difficult to return. "We could have it at Versailles. I thought of asking if we could go back there for the summer anyway.. - though it won't be for a few weeks yet so they'd have the place to themselves.. we wouldn't need to open it all up yet.. but we could run the fountains.. set up some kind of a picnic out of doors.. It'd be pretty - and quite unique. He'll know who was responsible anyway - might as well make it grand. And we could have a several course meal laid out for them.. We could set it up in the grotto.. by the three tiered fountain. " The plans were coming together nicely in his head as he thought about it. [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

“You're still very young,” Victor replied in an amused tone. “And you will find, I think, that most men change and become less... flexible... as they age.” At Henri's age, Victor himself might have been swayed to do or not do many things for the attention of a pretty girl. He had only just been discovering the joy of that, and novelty always had the potential to be a dangerous thing for a young man if he had no guidance.

He stretched his legs out in front of him, relaxing back into his chair. The haze of fatigue was beginning, finally, to hover over him. It was a wonder the boy was not dropping off where he sat, but Victor supposed the excitement of the ball had given him energy to last for a few more hours at least.

“You have a flair for romance,” Victor observed at the boy's proposal of where and how to orchestrate the meeting, “but you must keep in mind that you are trying to keep this... almost secret.” Versailles sounded lovely, and the fountains too—but a several-course meal, Victor thought, would give more the effect of some dangerous, enchanted fairytale than any normal occurrence.

“Of course, you are the King.” He smiled. “Although your friend may immediately suspect what is happening, we do not want to frighten my vicomtesse too badly. Still, she may herself find it romantic.” He did not know Marie Roquefeuil well enough to predict whether she would be put off by such a display and made uncomfortable by such prominent evidence of the king's involvement, or excited and interested in the matter. “I will bow to what you think best. Simply tell me the time and the place, and I will arrange that she be there.”

A yawn escaped him, and the bedroom door creaked again. He looked up to see the woman, wrapped in the bedsheet, padding out toward them. She looked sleep-fogged, and Victor almost told her to go back to bed. “I heard you talking,” she said in a hushed tone before he could speak, but then seemed suddenly to recognize the king and froze there.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Victor said to Henri, rising to take the young woman by the shoulders and lead her back into the bedroom—and determine what had brought her out, beyond overhearing their conversation.