How does one waltz away from all of the memories?

[HELENE DE ROCHAMBEAU]

[/style][style=width: 463px; height:20; background-color: #DDBBFF; float: center; background-image:url(http://i739.photobucket.com/albums/xx40/tippykazoo/Seamless/merely_cubed.png);]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; height: 480px; background-color: ededed; border-top: 10px solid #18002D; border-bottom: 10px solid #18002D;] [style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]tagged: Henri, Marie/style][style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]word-count: 354 [/style][style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]Notes: n/a

[/style]

Helene waited nervously just outside her home for Henri to arrive, over the past few months their friendship had kindled into something new and exciting. The day suddenly came where she realised her life would be meaningless without him, he brought with him endless opportunities that intrigued and inspired her. She had recently turned eighteen and the pressures of making her debut into society were pushing down on her. Her father had let her get away with not attending social gatherings for this long. She suspected he was afraid to lose her, but they both knew the time would come soon where she had no choice. Society demanded for it.

The day had come where the two had decided to make their intentions know to their parents. She had dressed for the occasion, which was a rarity in itself. Helene had yet to inform her father of her plans, but it was not difficult to arrange going with Henri to meet his parents. They day was warm and a cool breeze drifted down the small road that lead to the Rochambeau’s estate, the estate resided on the outskirt of the village, close to the beautiful forest that had captured Helene and Henri’s imagination.

She was lucky that her trips into the forest had not been monitored by her father, although she suspected he was beginning to grow suspicious. He would not approve of her being alone with a young man in such a place…but Helene continued to go there despite of this. She was dressed in a dark blue dress, one of her more preferred formal dresses as it was not as constraining as others. Her wild hair had been styled upon her head, and she stood anxiously watching the road for any sign of Henris arrival.

She had been waiting awhile, nerves had made her arrive early for their meeting, and she had spent the time, pacing the road wishing she could race into the welcoming forest that beckoned to her across the road. Pausing she listening carefully for a sign of anyone approaching down the long road.

[/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table]

[/style][style=width: 463px; height:15; background: #18002D; float: center;]

template by tippy of caution.

[/center]

[HENRI ROQUEFEUIL-BLANQUEFORT]

Henri did not particularly enjoy driving the horses. He much preferred to ride, and although he could certainly have had a servant drive the carriage, he had chosen instead to take a small phaeton and drive it himself. It was better this way, he thought. It might give him a little more time to speak with Helene before they actually had to face his parents. He knew better than to expect his father to take the news well; not only would he assume something entirely uncouth had occurred, but he would criticize him for his choice in general too.

He felt like his stomach was in knots. He knew this was what he wanted, but that didn't change his worries about facing his parents with it. He loved Helene, and he was quite confident that was never going to change. The problem was that he couldn't be sure that his father's view of her would ever change, either, and that view was based almost entirely on rumors about her mother. Her deceased mother. Henri thought that was ridiculous, but his father was not the sort of man to be confronted like that.

And now he was going to confront him anyway. The sound of the horse's hooves on the road was almost relaxing, though, even if he didn't care for the creaking of the harness and the rolling sound of the wheels. Nervous, he clucked to the horse to push it into a brisker trot. Like many horses intended for carriage work, its tail had been docked short.

He grinned when he caught sight of her, almost surprised to see her so far away from the house waiting for him. He wondered what, precisely, she had told her father in order to get away—especially dressed as she was. It had to be fairly obvious that she was going somewhere other than simply for some sort of walk. He slowed the horse with his voice, bringing it to a halt. He jumped down from the vehicle as lightly as he could, tripping slightly but still smiling as he landed and balancing himself with a hand on the horse's grey rump.

“Helene,” his voice was almost breathless, though he couldn't really attribute a reason to it. Nerves, he supposed. “I... hope we won't be too cramped?” He almost laughed, offering her a hand to help her up into the phaeton. He was glad that her father was not there with her. He doubted the man would have particularly approved of him driving his daughter about in a vehicle that was noted more for its capacity to be driven fast than for its safety, and which required her to sit directly next to him at that!

[HELENE DE ROCHAMBEAU]

[/style][style=width: 463px; height:20; background-color: #DDBBFF; float: center; background-image:url(http://i739.photobucket.com/albums/xx40/tippykazoo/Seamless/merely_cubed.png);]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; height: 480px; background-color: ededed; border-top: 10px solid #18002D; border-bottom: 10px solid #18002D;] [style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]tagged: Henri, Marie/style][style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]word-count: 455 [/style][style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]Notes: I added in some more stuff about her father, because i suddenly recalled in the episode, someone saying that henri and her father had argued because the father also disliked the fact they were spending so much time together.

[/style]

Helene did not have to wait much longer, the sound of horses hooves reached her alert ears and she stood, patiently watching with a smile as Henri approached in a phaeton. She excited to see him; it seemed like such a long time ago that she had seen him even though she had met with him the previous day. The hours in-between were filled with menial tasks, aimed at passing the time until she could escape from her home and see Henri. He painted her world with colour, his passion for living and the things around him made her see the world in a different light. When she was with him anything was possible, returning to the daily routine of chores and classes only made Helene feel constrained. She loathed the feeling she was trapped, because of her ‘title’.

She nervously stepped closer to the cart as Henri pulled up, pausing for a moment to run her hands down the horses neck as Henri spoke. She smiled shading her eyes from the sun to see him, sometimes she could not believe how lucky she was. She was convinced they were kindred spirits, fate had caused them to meet in the woods.

‘This is perfect!’ Helene replied happily, there was certainly no other way she would prefer to travel. They could enjoy the fine weather together on their journey, before the moment she had been dreading arrived. She took his hand, climbing into the carriage and seating herself comfortably next to Henri. Although her father was unaware of her excursions into the forest, she knew he had monitored her growing friendship with Henri, and she was certain from the looks he sent her, he disapproved. She loved her father dearly and hoped the day would come where he would be able to let her go, and not stand between herself and Henri.

She smiled as she looked at Henri, her mind flicking back to her escape from the housekeeper who was in charge of monitoring her activities. She was lucky her father had gone early that morning to Paris. She had her maid Beth do her hair, and had hidden a formal gown behind a tree in the outer garden. After her morning lesson with her music tutor, she had rushed down to the garden and changed quickly behind the tree, with the help of her maid, whom she’d bribed to keep silent about her trip. Beth was certainly a good sport.

Helene giggled to herself as she thought about her day dress waiting impatiently for her behind the large oak tree. She was silent for a moment, watching Henri before she spoke again ‘Did you plan what you were going to say Henri?’ she asked gently.

[/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table]

[/style][style=width: 463px; height:15; background: #18002D; float: center;]

template by tippy of caution.

[/center]

[HENRI ROQUEFEUIL-BLANQUEFORT]

“...No, I haven't planned it.” Henri knew that wasn't a particularly good thing, but then, he expected his mother at least would be fairly easy to win over once she had met Helene. His father was a different matter, but he prayed that maybe his mother would be able to bring him over as well. There was absolutely nothing wrong in falling in love, and he thought they might just manage to understand that. “I probably should have.” His voice was carefree and tinged with laughter, though it scarcely concealed his nerves.

“You look lovely today,” he added with a smile, glancing over at her. She did; there were moments when he was amazed that God should care to bless him with someone like her. Some part of the back of his mind was convinced that as soon as his parents saw her, especially like this, that any doubts in their minds would fade away. That they would see this as a good match, one that they would not only support but would back in front of Helene's father as well.

Henri knew that Helene's father disliked him, or at least did not approve of him. He was uncertain of why, and any attempt he made to come up with reasons left him just as perplexed. He would inherit a title and an estate, even if not a particularly grand one. Of course Helene would come to live with him when they married, but he would scarcely be taking her far away from her father. The estates practically bordered one another.

He clucked to the horse to set it forward again, carefully turning the phaeton around so as not to upset it. “...Shall I make him canter?” He shot her a mischievous look. It wasn't particularly safe to go that fast, but he knew this part of the road was level and straight and that the horse was responsive, the carriage in good condition. Its hood was folded back in light of the pleasant weather, and a light breeze whisked across them. Given her father's already rather dubious opinion of him, it was best if he never found out that Henri had driven his daughter about in a phaeton and offered to let the horse canter.

[HELENE DE ROCHAMBEAU]

[/style][style=width: 463px; height:20; background-color: #DDBBFF; float: center; background-image:url(http://i739.photobucket.com/albums/xx40/tippykazoo/Seamless/merely_cubed.png);]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; height: 480px; background-color: ededed; border-top: 10px solid #18002D; border-bottom: 10px solid #18002D;] [style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]tagged: Henri, Marie/style][style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]word-count: 366 [/style][style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]Notes: n/a

[/style]

Helene smiled, she was surprised Henri had not planned anything; he was usually so meticulous when it came to such important things. She guessed that he hoped the words would find him once he was there; it was possible his nerves that had not allowed him to plan what he would say. Helene reached to find his hand, wanting to comfort him as he spoke. His nerves were apparent to Helene, and she completely understood how he felt, for she also felt it. She could only hope the drive home would be filled with happiness and the promise of a bright future.

Beaming at his compliment she responded humorously, ‘thank you! I thought I’d make an effort. I didn’t want you thinking I always looked like a wild girl!’ Helene was referencing her usual attire, when they met in the forest. Usually, she would be sporting a simple day dress, which in her efforts to navigate through the trees was usually adorned with dirt and leaves. She laughed, thinking of the day she had first met Henri and Nate, she’d fallen and was covered head to toe in spots of dirt. She was surprised the two hadn’t turned on their heels and run the other way. Thinking on it Nate had disappeared and perhaps that was the reason why.

Helene looked at Henri with a mixture of excitement and nerves at the proposition of making the horse canter. What a thrill it would be, she thought, looking at the large stretch of road in front of them. She loved spending time with Henri; it was always filled with exciting moments. Her grip tightened around his arm slightly as she looked with delight at him. ‘Okay!’ she said breathlessly, although she knew it would shorten their trip considerably, but she couldn’t help but be intrigued by the opportunity to drive with such speed.

Helene tried not to think too much on what was waiting at the end of the road, she was still very young, she knew that. But her heart had been telling her for so long Henri was the right path for her, what girl wouldn’t want to spend their days with their best friend.

[/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table]

[/style][style=width: 463px; height:15; background: #18002D; float: center;]

template by tippy of caution.

[/center]

[HENRI ROQUEFEUIL-BLANQUEFORT]

Henri took Helene's hand, holding the reins in the other. If they so much as held hands once at the estate, he suspected it would incur the suspicion—if not the overt wrath—of his father at least. His mother, he had no doubt, would give him some stern glance warning of an even sterner conversation later on how inappropriate it was for them to be holding hands. He grinned slightly. For now, it didn't matter. No one would see them for now, and there were far worse things they could take it into their minds to consider.

Her acceptance of his compliment broadened his smile. Whatever fear he had was melted away by her smile, her laugh, the tone of her voice. “I like the wildness just as much,” he responded with humor in his voice as well. It was part of what had caused him to fall for her; without that, she might have struck him as nothing but another typical aristocratic girl. The sort his parents might approve of, but in whom he could find little inspiration.

Squeezing her hand quickly, he released it again to take the reins in both hands before urging the horse into a canter. The grey's ears flicked as he brushed its flanks with the long carriage whip he carried, not hard enough to hurt the animal but only to urge it forward. The horse's trot quickened before it finally gathered itself into a canter. He grinned, shifting the reins both back to one hand and daring to quickly put his arm around Helene's shoulders.

That, of course, was something he absolutely could not attempt within his parents' sight. “It will be all right,” he whispered—as much to reassure himself as her. “They're reasonable people, I don't think they'll forbid us happiness...” He sighed quietly, honestly a bit concerned that reality might run entirely contrary to his assurances. “Eventually they'll come around.”

Of that, he was determined. As his parents' only son, they might have high hopes for his marriage prospects—but he also had some say in it. His father had made it clear to him that he was glad of his existence as heir, and that gave him some leverage. He could not honestly be afraid of being disinherited, whatever he did. And, while they waited for his parents to accept her gladly, there would always be the forest.

[HELENE DE ROCHAMBEAU]

[/style][style=width: 463px; height:20; background-color: #DDBBFF; float: center; background-image:url(http://i739.photobucket.com/albums/xx40/tippykazoo/Seamless/merely_cubed.png);]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; height: 480px; background-color: ededed; border-top: 10px solid #18002D; border-bottom: 10px solid #18002D;] [style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]tagged: Henri, Marie/style][style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]word-count: 354 [/style][style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]Notes: I thought Marie could come in soon?

[/style]

The nerves of the day ahead melted away as Henri took her hand, she drew a deep breath and held on to his hand tightly, the anticipation of the ride building as she gazed at the road ahead of them. She beamed as Henri responded he didn’t mind her wild ways, it comforted her to know that she could be herself around him, and not worry about putting on airs and graces all the time. It was something that often made her anxious when she was in the presence of other people from their class.

As Henri took the reins urging the horse into a canter, Helene felt herself thrown back against the cart, she grabbed Henri’s arm as she felt herself jolted under the horses movement. The animal soon settled into a paced canter and she felt Henri’s arm around her shoulders in a comforting embrace. Looking back over the years since they had first met, Helene marvelled at how much their relationship had changed, and now they were here on their way to Henris parent’s home. She had never been to his home before and she was curious as to what his home was like. After all it was a part of him, and a part of him she had never seen before.

Helene nodded at his words, she sensed the uncertainty in his voice, but her strong sense of faith told her he must be right. Things would be ok in the end. ‘Of course’ she said softly, she was not entirely naive, she knew that her mother’s reputation was still remembered and had an impact upon her own prospects. Her father’s high standing protected her a lot, but there were some people who saw it as disgraceful. Helene knew the Rochechourart’s looked down upon her, so why should Henri’s family be any different?

She took a deep breath as they drew closer to Henri’s home, the time was almost here. ‘You are right Henri, we must keep faith that everything will be alright in the end.’ She said reassuringly.

[/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table]

[/style][style=width: 463px; height:15; background: #18002D; float: center;]

template by tippy of caution.

[/center]

[HENRI ROQUEFEUIL-BLANQUEFORT]

“Keep faith, and pray,” Henri glanced at Helene again with a fond smile. His concerns were real, and though he did not voice it he worried a bit about what his father would say of his decision. There were times that he chafed at the responsibilities inherent in being the only son of an aristocratic family; whether he wished to live up to the traditional vision of a country lordling or not, there were such expectations. His parents would no doubt remind him of this, but Helene was right. They had to believe that it would be all right in the end, and with God's help that's exactly what it would be.

He brought the horse back to a trot as he turned down the long entryway to his family's estate. The road was lined with tall trees, the joy of his childhood before he had been old enough to sneak into the forest proper. Now they looked oddly tame, unnaturally arranged into straight lines and almost disconcerting in the careful management evident in their neatness. He slowed the horse again, bringing it to a walk as a groom ran to meet him in front of the house. Passing the man the reins, Henri set aside his whip and hopped down again from the carriage. He managed to avoid tripping this time, and offered Helene a hand to help her down. He was tempted, briefly and quickly, to simply lift her from the carriage with his hands around her waist—but was seized by the sudden realization that his parents might already be watching. Such familiarity, he feared, would be read entirely incorrectly.

Of course, whatever they accused him of would not particularly concern his parents, but his fear was less for himself than for Helene. He knew that sometimes faced harsh perceptions from others of their class because of some old story about her mother, and if he showed excessive familiarity with her it would be blamed on her. As a young man, he would not only be forgiven quicker but it would be more likely that whatever he did would simply be ignored and left between him and God, the priest would never be tempted to break the seal of the confessional almost no matter what he told him.

Henri normally would have done his best to care for the horse himself, both as he enjoyed time spent with the horses and what he considered wholesome physical labor and because he increasingly had begun to feel for their plight. His family was not particularly harsh with its servants, but something about the situation still troubled him sometimes. They were necessary, of course, but... He had difficulty defining what bothered him about it. Although he was well-read, his interests had always run toward the active and he did not always provide himself an opportunity to think through the details and origins of his opinions.

[MARIE EVANGELINE ROQUEFEUIL]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]902 WORDS FOR Helene/Henri This gives a shocking insight into what makes Marie tick and why she's so unsure about Helene! INTROS [/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;]Marie sighed as she stared into the mirror and touched her cheeks thoughtfully, pinching them slightly to coax a little redness into them. She'd always been a little pale, a problem which plagued her and piqued her frustration when she saw girls with their buxom red cheeks - a beauty to which she could never hope to aspire in all her days. She tried hard, but it just never happened. She had always been tall, slender, pale and red-haired. At least she had avoided the notorious freckles which generally went with red hair - for that much she could be truly grateful. She'd seen girl cousins with freckles regularly doused in lemon juice, covered up, and enduring all other manner of methods to fade or remove those marks. Truthfully, she'd always worried about her appearance. It was a normal thing for a wife she'd been told - for a girl.. in general to worry or fuss over her looks.. but she didn't like it. She didn't like that she felt vain and envious of other pretty girls.. didn't like that she worried about other girls.. and she especially didn't like that now that she was over 40 that she felt like she needed to worry about her own looks fading! She knew it would happen eventually. She patted her dress slightly and smoothed it under one lace gloved hand. Perhaps what had brought all of these insecurities to the forefront of her mind this morning was the knowledge of her morning's plans. Her suspicions had finally been confirmed. For some time she had begun to suspect that, as much as Henri enjoyed the woods and had since he was old enough to venture into them, that now his enjoyment of the woods was not the only reason he spent an almost daily increasing amount of time hiding in their shady depths. She suspected that Henri was not entirely unlike her in some things. And that he, like her, may have found love in the forest. He came back every day with a jubilant grin on his face, cheeks flushed red, he never took a book or any entertainment with him anymore either. One time she had believed she saw his shadow and another at the stream, but that was far from the house and it had been twilight and the shadows had been long and plentiful.. the figures had vanished before she'd had a chance to investigate. But finally he'd come and admitted he had a girl he liked he wished to introduce to them the next morning. Marie sighed with the memory. She knew that her husband was reserving judgment until he had met the girl, and she was trying to do the same, but her worries about this pretty, young, possible addition their household troubled her. And her worries even existing troubled her even more. Why on earth should she be jealous of a girlfrind of Henri's? She, too, had had her chance as a beautiful young woman catching beaux. So what was the problem? She didn't know but she did know she felt discomfitted by it. She didn't like feeling that way. She didn't like feeling jealous of girls probably half her age that she shouldn't feel jealous of with absolutely no explanation for why it was. Perhaps, had she been a little less centrally located to the problem, she would have understood that he insecurities lay in the fact that she had little to claim to her name but her looks and her position as mistress of the house. Now that, too, was being challenged... She had not, however, realized this - just an increasing desire to make sure she looked her best. She patted her hair slightly and checked her dress in the mirror once more before she moved to the window of her boudoir to look outside, pulling back the lacy cream curtains with one hand carefully. A surprising knot crept into her throat as she looked out to see Henri already outside with a two seater Phaeton helping a girl in a fancy dress down from the seat. Well.. at the very least it didn't appear that he was seeing girls beneath him. She thought to herself as she stared at the girl that Henri was grinning up at as if she made his entire world go around. "He used to look at me like that." Marie whispered softly. "Now.. I don't make -anyone's- world go around apparently." At least it had certainly been enough weeks since her husband had visited her bed to deduce as much. She sighed and let the drape fall closed, wishing that she didn't have to go downstairs at all. Perhaps she could just hide up here. Right. Ridiculously, she felt like she might cry, but didn't understand what made it so.. she had a good life.. why was this all setting her so badly on edge? Finally, she gathered her skirts and made her way down the staircase toward the front entry way where Henri, her husband, and the new (and beautiful) young woman was waiting. She could see all ready that the atmosphere was tense and it would be left up to her (as always) to play the gracious hostess. "Welcome, my dear, our Henri has already told us so much about you. Welcome to our home. Please.. won't you join us in the parlor for some tea?" [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[HELENE DE ROCHAMBEAU]

[/style][style=width: 463px; height:20; background-color: #DDBBFF; float: center; background-image:url(http://i739.photobucket.com/albums/xx40/tippykazoo/Seamless/merely_cubed.png);]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; height: 480px; background-color: ededed; border-top: 10px solid #18002D; border-bottom: 10px solid #18002D;] [style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]tagged: Henri, Marie/style][style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]word-count: 406 [/style][style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]Notes: I will leave the controlling of the father to becks and ash <3 hes yours <3

[/style]

And pray…The words lingered on Helene’s mind as she found herself in the shadows of Henri’s home, the building loomed before her the tall windows glistened in the sunlight, but there was emptiness to the building Helene sensed the house held many a ghost. She shook the strange feeling that had overcame her, suddenly she was no longer questioning Henris reoccurring appearance in the forest, there was an atmosphere Helene couldn’t help but sense. Stop being so foolish, Helene thought to herself, you’re just nervous! It’s a lovely home…and it was.

A man came to tend to the horses and Henri came around to the side of the carriage to help her down from the carriage. Standing, Helene carefully climbed down, feeling somewhat out of her element dressed as she was. This very moment felt almost surreal and before Helene knew it she found herself standing beside Henri in the entrance hall, her wide eyes taking in every detail she could. Helene knew Henri lived in a home much like hers, but she was so used to seeing him in the forest she’d never really thought about the way he lived when he wasn’t with her.

Two things happened almost simultaneously, Henri’s father strolled through a door to the left of them as a beautiful woman descended the stair before them. Helene was surprised and pleased to see they had come down to greet them, it seemed friendlier than the two being summoned to one of the rooms to visit with them. Helene recalled seeing Henri’s mother before, although she couldn’t place exactly where. The woman had a regal air about her; she had dramatic porcelain skin, skin Helene could only achieve with the help of makeup. All her time spent outside had given Helene a darker skin tone, something not favoured among the fashionable. What Helene admired the most about Henris mother was the colour tone of her hair, the redness was so beautiful and was a colour Helene had rarely seen on anyone else.

Helene smiled shyly at the woman looking from Henri’s father to Henri then back to the woman stood before her, ‘how kind of you to invite me to you home, I’m very pleased to be here’ Helene nodded her head courteously. Meeting in the parlor sounded perfect to Helene and she looked back to Henri for guidance, worried if she continued to speak she would eventually say the wrong thing.

[/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table]

[/style][style=width: 463px; height:15; background: #18002D; float: center;]

template by tippy of caution.

[/center]

[HENRI ROQUEFEUIL-BLANQUEFORT]

There was something hopelessly embarrassing about his mother calling Helene 'my dear,' especially given the likely tension that would inevitably result from this meeting. He managed a polite smile at his mother, offering his arm to Helene to lead her into the room. Probably he would hear about that later—though more likely from his father than his mother. You're being ridiculous, he told himself. Still, there was something about the situation that made it almost difficult to move under the stern eyes of his father.

He allowed himself a breath when the vicomte finally turned his expression onto something else—a servant who had come around the corner with a tray of various small treats and tea. Henri acknowledged the man with something that could have been a smile, had his nerves not been compromised by his father's expression, and looked back at Helene. She, he was convinced, was far braver than he could ever hope to be—after all, she was here, she had accepted the invitation to come and face his parents when he was belatedly dreading it.

“Yes, the parlor's right over here,” he finally volunteered. His father's attention had turned back to them, and Henri turned to let him lead the way into the room. He wondered if he realized how intimidating he could be even to his own son, and whether he really wanted to be that way. “Most of the flowers come from our own gardens,” Henri added, hoping to fill the silence that was beginning to set in. He had shown Helene the gardens once, but his parents didn't know that—at least, he hoped they didn't.

That seemed to have induced his father to speak. “You must speak with my wife about the gardens, mademoiselle. I'm afraid our impetuous Henri knows nothing about the finer points of gardening.” No, thought Henri. Ask the servants if you want to know about the finer points. He held his tongue.

“I may know nothing of gardening,” Henri defended himself in atone he hoped seemed more playful than combative, “but I know the berries for the tarts came from the forest.” His gaze flickered back to Helene, the very idea of the forest blending in his mind with her and with a sense of freedom that granted him a little more courage.

[MARIE EVANGELINE ROQUEFEUIL]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]689 WORDS FOR Helene notes: Yikes. Marie is being kind of mean. Sorry >.< She's jealous. And insecure. And I had to do something to kick off her and Helene's kind of awkward relationship. INTROS [/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;]Marie had hoped that, despite everything, she would be able to steer this meeting away from the dangerous waters in whose direction it threatened to head. There were so many factors which could cause it to explode more powerfully than a rifle, and she was not unintelligent enough to miss any of them. Things had been strained between Henri and his father Jean-Claude for some time. As the good wife and consummate mother, it was Marie's job to keep that relationship heading in a positive direction despite the tension which was building up. She couldn't exactly place what caused the problems between the two men other than their differences and similarities - both of which were great. Both men were stubborn and believed they - and only they - must be right all of them. That was a cause for collision right there. But as Henri had grown older, he had wanted to be recognized and respected in his own right - a problem for Jean-Claude who still saw his son as far too flightly and irresponsible to be entrusted with anything truly important - a factor that weighed very heavily, she knew, on Henri. This had caused him, most of his life, to favor Marie and he husband knew and disliked it. As their only child and, therefore, only son, Jean-Claude had become jealous and frustrated when, even as he turned into a man before his father's eyes, Henri still preferred his mother - even if he tried not to show it to avoid invoking his father's temper - which could be quite robust at times - frightening, even, when he really got into a temper tantrum as he was occasionally wont to do. To top it off, Jean-Claude did not like the amount of time that Henri spent hiding out in the woods and had long suspected there was a reason for his son's disappearances there and the long times he spent amongst the trees. He had been forever telling Marie about it. She'd tried to defend her son and said that he just enjoyed the forest, but Jean-Claude had suspected something and now he knew that it must have to do with the girl across from them. Henri had never had any chaperoned and proper visits with her following the proper channels, and she could practically see her husband's mind turning. She also knew that the informal way that Henri conducted himself with the young lady would make Jean-Claude irritated. And his father coming down hard on him as if he was a mere child, let alone being judgmental of Helene would be enough to make Henri angry. This could be a messy meeting if she couldn't play all the sides well enough. And that didn't even take into account her feelings of inadequacy compared to the young, beautiful girl who had replaced her in her son's heart as the most important person in his world. Just because that was the way it was supposed to work, didn't mean she enjoyed it. In fact, had she known how in just a few short years he would be siding with Helene about everything and trying to use Marie's own title - the one she gave to him and the one that made him able to control her land and money, she probably would have run the two of them out of the house then and there. However, Marie did not know this. All she knew now was that she felt as if she was losing her only child to a (beautiful) but wild creature he'd met in the woods. Jealousy flickered through her like the tempting and dangerous flames of a fire. It made her want to be just a tiny bit mean. A tiny bit pricky like the tip of a needle. "Helene, do tell us about your family please." It probably wasn't very nice because Marie was quite sure this was the little formerly skinned-kneed Rochambeau girl whose family had been disgraced. Too bad. "And how you came to be on such familiar terms with my son.." Okay. A little bit pricky. Just a little.... [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[HELENE DE ROCHAMBEAU]

[/style][style=width: 463px; height:20; background-color: #DDBBFF; float: center; background-image:url(http://i739.photobucket.com/albums/xx40/tippykazoo/Seamless/merely_cubed.png);]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; height: 480px; background-color: ededed; border-top: 10px solid #18002D; border-bottom: 10px solid #18002D;] [style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]tagged: Henri, Marie/style][style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]word-count: 556 [/style][style=width: 200; height: 15; background-color: DDBBFF;]Notes: <3

[/style]

Although Helene had been born into a privileged life, she wasn’t of noble birth, in fact she was quite the opposite. Her adoptive father had taken her mother in when she was with child and he had loved her mother until her dying day. He had made Helene his when he married her mother and had never treated her poorly because she was not his child. She had been christened Lady Helene De Rochambeau, thus gaining a title and all the privileges that came with it. Although Helene had known no life other than the one she lead with her father, the people of Barbizon tended to gossip. Some disliked her because of her mother conceiving a child out of wedlock and still recalled stories of her mother’s escapades...most of which were highly coloured and not entirely accurate. Helene had learnt to ignore such gossip, but there were times it would creep back into her life were she could not avoid it.

Helene faltered under the gaze of Henri’s father, there was a likeness between him and Henri, but there was certainly something different about Henri’s father’s eyes. It made her feel vulnerable; it was almost as if his father could see into her very soul with his sharp eyes. After what felt like an eternity, Henri’s father led them into the parlour. Helene smiled encouragingly at Henri as he continued to make small talk; she could sense his discomfort behind the façade he was showing.

Helene nodded in acknowledgement of Henri’s fathers words, a small smile playing across her lips, she looked questioningly towards Henri. Perhaps Henri did not know much about the details of gardening, but she was certain he could recognise many of the flowers and plants that grew in the forest. She beamed as Henri mentioned the forest, she loved freshly grown berries and she’d spent many an hour picking berries in the shade of the trees. ‘They sound simply delicious’ Helene responded smiling back at Henri.

It felt strange sitting in the parlour of Henri’s family, almost as if they were both playing a role, talking in such a refined manner that was expected of them. Helene’s attention was quickly drawn by Henri’s mother, who as Helene expected, was suspicious of her. She could understand why, they weren’t exactly doing things properly, but they’d also done nothing wrong.

‘There’s not a lot to tell Madame’ Helene said softly, ‘my fathers the Marquis de Rochambeau and it is just the two of us since the passing of my mother.’ Helene paused, ‘it’s a small village, I’m sure you’ve passed our home.’ She added bluntly. Helene was certain Henri’s mother would know about her, after all there were not many noble families living nearby.

Helene looked to Henri for help, she was unsure of what Henri had told his parents, and she feared she would say something that would not match Henri’s words. Although their first meeting had been entirely innocent, Helene was unsure if a third party would think so, moreover the fact she’d not been with an escort didn’t bode well for her image.

[/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table]

[/style][style=width: 463px; height:15; background: #18002D; float: center;]

template by tippy of caution.

[/center]

[HENRI ROQUEFEUIL-BLANQUEFORT]

”Of course you must remember the de Rochambeaus, Mother,” Henri moved to Helene's defense. He had no doubt at all that she remembered all the rumors that had come out of the village—but as far as Henri was concerned, rumors weren't worth much and tended to be the same echoes through every noble family.

She'd heard his side of how they had met, too, but he knew she still didn't like it. ”We met because I wandered too close to their property, I will confess to that,” he smiled sheepishly. ”But there's no harm in that, is there? Their forest connects to ours, and besides, she was in the most respectable of positions in her own garden.” He trusted that his father, at least, would dismiss it with a sort of boys will be boys, and not consider him to have been at all in the wrong. ”I assure you, however, that there was no hint of impropriety in any of it.”

It was awkward, trying to keep a meeting like this going smoothly. His mother always seemed jealous of his time these days, and his father would either praise him or consider it a mark of his perpetual immaturity. It was frustrating, and he found himself fidgeting. He could only pray that his parents would relax and move on to other things, rather than continuing to question Helene about everything Henri had already told them, as if they sought some discrepancy in their stories.
Henri's father came to their rescue. Probably not deliberate, Henri thought, but certainly better than the alternative.

”Tell me, mademoiselle, do you take tea?” His father had developed a fondness for tea in the last months, insistent that it was good for his health and a better way to relax than anything else. Henri certainly did not object to tea, but it had become something of an obsession for his father in recent months. Probably just because he's bored, sitting in the house as he always does. Henri did not look forward to someday having to manage the property on his own.