Post by COMTESSE ELEONORE ROCHECHOUART on Mar 11, 2013 18:39:35 GMT -5
Comtesse Eleonore Emilienne Rochechouart. 41. Aristocrat. Lena Headey.
The Comtesse’s Memoirs
The women of my family have always been strong willed and determined, so it was not unusual when at the tender age of seven, I loudly declared I was going to be a Comtesse. My parent laughed, my mother replying that one day I would make a lovely Lady or if I were lucky a Baroness. Little did they know I would make my dream a reality. I was one of three sisters, my mother had never produced an heir and my sisters and I were never doubtful in terms of where our father stood on that point. Especially when my mother stated she was no longer able to bare anymore children. The couple had married late, so their child rearing days had always been numbered. My father took to court, leaving my mother with her three young girls. There was Celeste the oldest, Yvette the middle child, then I the youngest child.
As sisters go, we got on rather well, Celeste had a talent for storytelling and music, and kept Yvette and I enthralled with her marvellous tales of princes and princesses. Yvette was a talented painter, mother encouraged Yvette’s talent, buying her materials to paint with and employing her own private tutor to nurture her talents. Then there was me, with no obvious desirable talent and nothing miraculous about me apart from my long golden locks. My mother called me her golden child and explained that in time my talents would become clear.
My younger years were wrought with confusion and fear. Although I did not understand why at the time, we were ripped from our home in Cholet and moved with haste to my father’s cousin’s home in Spain. It was a large vineyard and we grew up quite happily among the people there.
As I grew older I became more perceptive of the world around me. Although my family wasn’t particularly high up in regards of ranks, my father had the same determined talent that had pleased a local Comte, this benefited my father’s standing among our kind greatly. I was only sixteen when my father began marrying us off. My older sister Celeste was married to a Baronet in Italy and Yvette to a lowly Lord in Spain. Then there was just I left.
Where my sisters had their talents in their favour I only had my wits. I wasn’t particularly beautiful, rather a plain Jane, the only remarkable feature I held were my golden locks. As I reached eighteen my father began introducing me into society, parading me around parties and social events. I discovered I had a knack for schmoozing, and soon found I had many influential friends. It was then my father told me that his friend the Comte Rochechouart thought I would be a good match for his oldest son Raphael. His son had designs on Lady Elizabeth Gray, but the family had been recently disgraced and the Comte did not want his family associating with them.
I suddenly found myself being groomed to capture the young Lords attention, for one day he would inherit the family’s title and fortune. Of course I couldn’t resist such a challenge. It took longer than I had hoped for Raphael to forget the Lady Gray and marry me for I was just 20 by the time I walked down the aisle.
We moved into a large and reasonably comfortable home, while France soaked their streets with the blood of its people. Child birth held no issues for me. I produced an heir within months of our marriage and from there proceeded to create what I hoped would be the finest young Lords and Lady’s France’s Aristocratic descents had to offer.
They were the sons and daughters of France, and although their inheritance was currently in the hands of the republican swine, I knew one day we would be able to lay claim to what rightfully was ours. I intended to teach my children the power of inner strength, the girls would learn not to give their hearts away to easily, to retain the upper hand always. The boy’s I wanted to teach humility and respect for women, but most importantly to learn when to be merciless. This proved to be more difficult than I had hoped with some of them. They seemed to have inherited the family’s headstrong trait, that often proved to be difficult.
The years past and my children grew older, as did I. My relationship with Raphael grew weak, I don’t think at any point in the marriage I had ever truly loved him, I was simply doing my duty. Appearances were everything, and I learnt to play my part as a doting mother and wife well. I always felt that my husband’s feelings for the Lady Gray never faded, although she herself had married not long after we were wed. I often found myself reminding him of his duty as Comte, my sly hints that he should continue to play his part as well as I did, for the sake of our families reputation.
The time finally came when the King was reinstated on the throne. We were given our rightful lands and estate back, of course the building by then was in dire need of some attention, but I threw myself into rebuilding it to its former glory. We made the journey from Spain, to France were our rightful positions waited for us. My husband took up a position at court, and while I frequented Paris doing my job as Comtesse and I found myself enjoying the serenity of our estate on the outskirts of Barbizon. Of course I sense it won’t last long.
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It’s the eve of Lord Laval’s ball and I find myself staring into the mirror trying to recognise the girl that once existed. I still retain my golden locks, which just reach my waist. My hair is not straight, nor is it curly, it falls into an odd place in-between these things, but I always ensure it looks presentable. I’ve never really had what you would call a classically nice face; my sisters had that sort of face. A face in which a young child would take one look and want to run into your arms. Mine was always harsher; I was more like my father that way, although my features are not unattractive either. My eyes are a light grey colour, and I have heavy eyebrows which emphasise my every emotion. I’m about average size for a woman my age; I’ve retained my small waist and reach about 5ft 7 in height. As I powder my face I’m aware of the light lines which have embroidered themselves around my eyes and mouth, another sign of my age. I know I am lucky, for I have lived a reasonable life, which has helped fight away those signs of aging other women might have developed.
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I suppose if one were asked to describe me, they would say I had a great business mind, I often wonder if I should have been born a man, for I find greater pleasure in male tasks. Alas being born as the fairer sex, I have had to learn to quell my desires and put my energy into assisting my husband in his endeavours. Riding is a much loved hobby of mine, and when the opportunity arises, I will often accompany my husband when he goes hunting.
I’ve been told I’m a natural when it comes to getting what I want, I often find I can manipulate those around me for my own means, but of course there are those who see straight through me. Pride and vanity is a strong driving force for me. I am proud of my strong French lineage and heritage; there is nothing more distasteful to me than the thought of our family being disgraced. I am an aristocrat through and through and could never deny that. My love for my children is based in pride, and the hope that they will fulfil my dreams of re-establishing our family in France, now the King has his throne back.
