Material World [Rienne]

[PAUL CHAUVELIN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-image: url(http://i217.photobucket.com/albums/cc172/damijoandamija/sbg.jpg); padding-left: 50px; padding-bottom: 20px; padding-top: 10px;] damaged I am merely the product…..of the life that I've lived An amalgam of sorrows.....and the wisdom they give But the weight has grown heavy [style= text-align: center]and it's dragging me down It's so hard not to sink now but I don't want to drown

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chauvelin

tags || Rienne

Chauvelin's walking stick tapped lightly and his footsteps crunched on the gravel of the path as he made his way through the Luxembourg Gardens. He walked without a limp and was not yet so old as need the steadying of a cane, making the carved and polished length of black wood seem a mere fashion accessory. And that was in some part true. Like his clothing, it was chosen with an eye toward projecting the image of a sober, well-bred man of means. And, like his clothing, it hid a deadly weapon within.

It was broad daylight in an extremely public place and the old spymaster really didn't expect to have to use the length of razor sharp steel it concealed. Still, as the people grew more restive and matters spiraled inexorably toward the coming conflagration, he'd made it a habit to keep it with him. The Luxembourg gardens were open to all, making them a popular spot for everyone from urchins to students to petite bourgeoisie. Only the royals and 'upper crust' shunned them for the more exclusive gardens of the Tuileries and Trianons.

You never knew who, or what, you might encounter in the Jardin de Luxembourg, even with a planned meeting such as the one Chauvelin was headed toward. He knew appallingly little about this girl beyond what Thérèse had told him. She was said to be pretty, with the dark hair and blue eyes that he favored. And she was presumably skilled. She'd been a courtesan for a little longer than he liked, but he'd been able to identify some of her previous clients and none of them were diseased.

So, it primarily remained to be seen whether she was willing and had the right mindset, finding that rare balance between mercenary and short-sightedly greedy. He also devoutly hoped she wasn't some closet romantic who would read the wrong thing into his choice of the Medici Fountain, with its sculpture of Venus, as their meeting place. Thérèse hadn't, but then Thérèse wouldn't know Venus from the fishmonger's wife.

The goddess in pale marble came into view as Chauvelin turned the last corner, and he slowed his pace. He was early, and he enjoyed the way the play of the light shifted and the song of the simple fountain changed as he drew closer to the grotto. It also gave his chronic paranoia a bit more time to see what he might be walking into, and he studied the occupants of the shaded benches scattered around.

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[adrienne]

s h o u ld i g i v e u p o r s h o u l d i

just keep chasing pavements even though it

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g79/Juliart/background_black.jpg');,true][cs=2] L E A D S N O W H E R E

[atrb=width,240] Thérèse sat in Adrienne's little flat with her, she was helping Adrienne to pile her hair atop her head. Adrienne nodded to something the other woman said, and glanced in the mirror to see the young woman she had helped those few years back giving her a forlorn look. She turned her eyes back to her own reflection. Thérèse was busy weaving her hair into an up-do to think about the other woman watching them. When she was finished Adrienne stood up in her petticoat and allowed Thérèse to help her into a light purple dress with white lace hemming that fell off her shoulders, revealing her delicate collar bones. She moved away from the two women, already getting agitated from being in the company of the both of them. A lot of the time Adrienne liked to be alone. Adrienne asked where she was to meet this man once more and then shooed the other two. She could finish preparing on her own. She stood in her flat and looked around for a shawl, pulled it over her shoulders and gently laid a necklace at the hollow of her throat, before reaching around to do the clasp up. The 24 year old, stepped out of the door, and locked it. Slipping a second chain around her neck which was longer than the first and tucked into the bodice of her dress, at the end of the chain was a little pouch which she pushed the key into then dropped the chain into her cleavage. She walked pasted Thérèse and her dear friend and did not acknowledge either. She simply kept walking in the direction of the gardens. While she did not often frequent the gardens, she knew the way. She knew her way around most of Paris, with only a few back alleys that she dare not walk down. Even a woman like Adrienne feared what lay in wait in the dark. She mumbled a song under her breath. “Greensleeves was all my joy. Greensleeves was my delight,” her voice softened as she grew closer to a group of people and she stopped all together, and then ducked behind a wall. She waited for the group to pass before she carried on walking. While she had no qualms with receiving the disapproving stares, today was a day she'd rather not face them. So instead, like a coward she hid. Adrienne finally made it to the gardens. She paused next to a rose bush, only to step away when she saw the red bush of flowers. She hated roses. Sighing she recalled the name of the fountain Thérèse had mentioned, and headed for it. Adrienne tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, licked her lips and smoothed the front of her dress, she had to at least lock presentable for her meeting with Monsieur Chauvelin. With an air of confidence she walked towards the fountain. The sculpture was hideous in Adrienne's opinion. It depicted the Roman goddess of love, and Adrienne could not stand it. She merely diverted her eyes to look for the man she was supposed to be meeting. Thérèse had not given her the best description and while she didn't mind Thérèse, the girl was not exactly the sharpest of the lot. Most of what Thérèse had said had also gone over Adrienne's head, she had only listened to the bits she wanted to. Now she was somewhat wishing she had listened to the other courtesan. Sighing, she caught a glimpse of someone in the corner of her eye as she surveyed the area. Adrienne pursed her lips for a moment, debating with herself whether to approach, for if he were the wrong man. She'd have to somehow lie her way out of it. Rolling her eyes at her own procrastination, she stepped towards the man, and stood beside him. “Monsieur Chauvelin?” she asked fluttering her dark lashes lightly. She ducked her head, and then dropped down slightly in a curtsey. “Je suis désolé si je suis en retard*” she spoke softly, keeping her voice as light as she could. *I'm sorry if I'm late

[atrb=width,100] words , 685 words tagged , Paul-Francois Chauvelin notes ,

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[PAUL CHAUVELIN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-image: url(http://i217.photobucket.com/albums/cc172/damijoandamija/sbg.jpg); padding-left: 50px; padding-bottom: 20px; padding-top: 10px;] damaged I am merely the product…..of the life that I've lived An amalgam of sorrows.....and the wisdom they give But the weight has grown heavy [style= text-align: center]and it's dragging me down It's so hard not to sink now but I don't want to drown

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chauvelin

tags || Rienne

"Ne vous inquiètez pas,"* Chauvelin said, smiling at the young lady and acknowledging her graceful curtsey with a slight bow. "M'lle Chevalier?" he added, not really a question. "I arrived early."

She had strikingly blue eyes, he thought, perhaps as striking as Marguerite's. Then he gave himself a sharp mental rebuke. Marguerite had made it plain she was not, never had been, and never would be his. And if her hard words hadn't driven the point home, her marriage of more than twelve years now to his greatest nemesis should have. He could buy women as lovely, and certainly far more biddable, why should he pine so?

Ignoring the fact that pine he still did, Chauvelin offered the young lady his arm, playing the role of charming and cultured older gentleman to the hilt. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said. "And to see that, if anything, Thérèse understated your beauty. Would you do me the honor of enjoying the gardens with me while we talk?"

It was a convenient arrangement, allowing her the security of being safely in plain view of nearly a score of people, while still enabling them to speak privately. And moving around would make it far easier to spot anyone trying to eavesdrop than sitting still and letting them lurk in the bushes. What they had to discuss was purely a business matter and not particularly unusual, still, in his personal as well as his professional affairs, Paul Chauvelin was an intensely private man.

[style= font-size: 9px;]* Don't worry about it

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[adrienne]

s h o u ld i g i v e u p o r s h o u l d i

just keep chasing pavements even though it

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g79/Juliart/background_black.jpg');,true][cs=2] L E A D S N O W H E R E

[atrb=width,240] Adrienne nodded, and allowed the corners of her lips to turn up pleasantly into a smile. “Oui” she nodded, “Please call me Adrienne”, she looked away as she spoke, and to the surroundings. She sighed softly, “Good, I did not want to have kept you waiting” she replied after a moment of thought. Her brunette curls balanced on top of her head brushed against a green shrub as she stepped closer to the shrubbery. As the feeling of leaves in her hair, she quickly replaced herself next to Chauvelin. She took his arm, hooking hers around his offered one, smiling up at him, “Well Thérèse was never the most observant” she chuckled. While she respected the woman somewhat, there was a part of her that terribly disrespected the woman for her lack of common sense and intelligence. “Thank you Monsieur” she added after a moment. “Maybe she was just jealous” she theorised with a soft laugh. “I would like that very much so” she told him. While she was no fan of the florals and what not, she did not mind walking around. Rienne used her free hand to smooth down her dress, and then eyed Chauvelin. He was old. Much older than her. But Adrienne didn't care about that. All Adrienne cared about was how much he would pay her. Thinking of payment Adrienne's lips shifted into a smirk. “I don't wish to be blunt Sir” a lie “but how about we discuss this deal?” she asked her voice lowered in case of someone over hearing. Adrienne had no need for small talk and while she enjoyed being called beautiful and all those things, she had her sense and the knowledge of what the world could do to someone caught off guard. Adrienne's gaze moved to the sculpture. “Please can we move from this?” she gestured, completely offended by the image of the goddess of love. “There is something about her that I can not stand” she said as she took in the woman depicted there. Adrienne's idea of love was money. Adrienne sighed and ducked her head down, as though she were ashamed by her outburst. Really, she was neither ashamed nor was she proud. She merely thought that the way she should act was to act as though she should not have spoken out. Adrienne shifted in her spot, eager to walk away.

[atrb=width,100] words , 396 words tagged , Paul-Francois Chauvelin notes ,

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[PAUL CHAUVELIN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-image: url(http://i217.photobucket.com/albums/cc172/damijoandamija/sbg.jpg); padding-left: 50px; padding-bottom: 20px; padding-top: 10px;] damaged I am merely the product…..of the life that I've lived An amalgam of sorrows.....and the wisdom they give But the weight has grown heavy [style= text-align: center]and it's dragging me down It's so hard not to sink now but I don't want to drown

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chauvelin

tags || Rienne

"And I am Paul."

Rienne might have been essentially a prostitute, and Chauvelin a republican at heart, but he had been born and raised a gentleman. So he did what a gentleman does, shifting so he placed himself between the lady on his arm and something unpleasant or distasteful to her. Had they been strolling along a street, he would have walked on the outside, shielding her from stray muck kicked up by passing horses or carriages. Protecting her from a mere statue was, by comparison, a pleasure.

He was also pleased to hear her views on love. Paul himself regretted none of the three women he'd loved in his time, but he was old now and knew the joy of it walked hand-in-hand with pain. Love was complicated, and he had enough of that in the rest of his life. What he wanted from Rienne was a refuge in simplicity, a warm body that would see to his physical needs without emotional strings. He did regard her sudden vehement antipathy toward the Goddess of Love with a mixture of curiosity and pity, but it was brief. Whatever bad experience had soured her on it was of neither his making nor his fixing.

"Straight to business," Chauvelin said with a smile, steering them toward the exit from the grotto and the sunlit paths beyond. "I like that. Very well. Simply put, I'm a fastidious man who values security and ... consistency. I have no interest in romance, a wife, or children, just a woman to warm my bed who I can be assured I'm not sharing with poxy strangers. On rare occasions, I'll also need a companion willing and able to comport herself discreetly and appropriately in high society."

He glanced at her occasionally as he spoke, but his eyes were never still, constantly tracking the people nearby, allowing him to subtly maintain an invisible bubble around them. "In return," he continued, "I'm willing to provide for your needs and wants -- within reason, of course -- including a residence and funds sufficient for you to live quite comfortably." Naming a respectable figure, he added, "In the case of social events, there would be additional for jewelry and a suitably fashionable gown."

They reached a far bend in the path with no one within earshot and Chauvelin paused there. "Except when in my bed or on my arm your time would be your own. Do you have any questions as to ... specifics?"

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[adrienne]

s h o u ld i g i v e u p o r s h o u l d i

just keep chasing pavements even though it

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g79/Juliart/background_black.jpg');,true][cs=2] L E A D S N O W H E R E

[atrb=width,240] Rienne could not say she was entirely comfortable calling Chauvelin, Paul, but still she nodded and smiled at him. She shifted her gaze from him to the floor, suddenly interested in the ground beneath her feet. She wasn't often asked to call someone by their first name, and there was a sort of protection in that. Of course she was used to giving her name out. Though usually she asked to be called Rienne. Rienne was quicker to say and less formal – and not her birth name. Rienne looked back at him curiously. She knew that older men often called upon the company of woman such as herself, and she always wondered why? Not that she cared to actually hear why. She didn't. Rienne cared for very little if it was not to do with money. She had few family members left, and fewer that she liked. She only had one true friend. She had little to loose and lots more to gain. Rienne liked keeping it that way. When you had nothing to loose, no one could hurt you. Rienne listened to Chau- Paul, and nodded. “I can be whoever you want me to be” she told him, “but not a wife” she added with a chuckle. Rienne herself had no wish to marry, she was almost content to be alone. Almost. “I know how to be discrete – Paul” she clicked her tongue after she spoke, and pursed her lips. She was not the kind of woman to shout out about her circumstances. She actually preferred not to speak much at all. Sometimes silence was better. Adrienne had learnt that. She smiled to herself when he spoke of providing for her. It was why she had agreed to meet him. Without the money, Rienne would have said no. She wouldn't even had battered an eyelid over it. She was not a hopeless romantic, and she hoped she was not some gullible idiot. She prided herself on being somewhat intelligent. The only thing she had trouble getting her head around was, not being shared. Rienne did not like the idea that her only income would be coming from one person. One who could, no doubt drop her in the gutter again if he felt like it. She carried on listening, occasionally turning her gaze from in front of her, to Chauvelin. She mused over what he was saying, allowing everything to sink in once more. There was only one question she could instantly think of. “So I would be” she paused and frowned “yours?” she finished. She did not like the idea that she was someones. It was what put her off marriage. According to the men in power, Adrienne wasn't her own property, but the property of her father... till she married and was the property of her husband. The thought made her feel somewhat angry. She sighed and looked straight at him, “How much time would I be spending on my own?” she asked, Rienne quite enjoyed the days she could spend by herself, before the night came and she was off again. In an unknown house or apartment. Sleeping with anyone, be it married or not. Rienne had no qualms about being a 'homewrecker'.

[atrb=width,100] words , 539 words tagged , Paul-Francois Chauvelin notes ,

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[PAUL CHAUVELIN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-image: url(http://i217.photobucket.com/albums/cc172/damijoandamija/sbg.jpg); padding-left: 50px; padding-bottom: 20px; padding-top: 10px;] damaged I am merely the product…..of the life that I've lived An amalgam of sorrows.....and the wisdom they give But the weight has grown heavy [style= text-align: center]and it's dragging me down It's so hard not to sink now but I don't want to drown

[/size][/font][/style]

chauvelin

tags || Rienne

Chauvelin chuckled at the question. "I am old, ma chère*, and far from insatiable. You would be with me for perhaps an hour or two of an evening, two to three times a week. And there is the upcoming Masquerade Ball, of course." It would likely be the only event to which she would accompany him. He attended few to begin with – he was only going to this one as Blakeney would be there – and he didn't expect the current regime to last long enough to host many more. "The rest of your time you would be free to spend as you pleased."

Chauvelin had not missed the change in her voice and manner at the word 'yours' and understood her concern. He had once accused Marguerite of being a rich man's possession and, legally, she was. She was fortunate enough to have found a husband who loved her, as even Paul grudgingly acknowledged Percy did, but the fact remained she belonged to him. Whether that was just or not didn't matter, wives did. In fact, most women had very little legal existence beyond some man or another, typically husband, father, or brother, but pimps and masters were also possibilities.

Frowning thoughtfully, Chauvelin said, "You wouldn't belong to me, any more than any other sort of employee could be said to do so. Perhaps less. I will have a contract drawn up, if you wish," he added, though he was aware there was a very good chance she wouldn't be able to read it. Literacy wasn't a priority, especially for girls. "You may end our … relationship at any time. The stipend will end when you do, though the residence will be in your name and yours to keep."

notes ||

[/b] *my dear[/div][/center][/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table]

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[adrienne]

s h o u ld i g i v e u p o r s h o u l d i

just keep chasing pavements even though it

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g79/Juliart/background_black.jpg');,true][cs=2] L E A D S N O W H E R E

[atrb=width,240] Rienne nodded, the movement dislodged a few strands of hair from her updo, allowing them to frame her face. She ran her free hand over her collarbone, gently tracing the bone with her index finger. “Masquerade Ball, I am assuming that masks will be needed” she smiled slightly amused. At least at an masquerade it would be far easier to conceal who she was. “That sounds acceptable Paul, although, I hope you do not expect me to cook anything fancy. I have very limited knowledge – and experience – with cooking” she laughed, a rich and deep laugh. She really did hope he didn't expect her to cook at least not all the time. Or if he did not to begin with. Rienne would need to learn that. She'd never really needed to cook, her friend had always done it for her. “So I could go off on my own?” she asked, Rienne did treasure her alone time. Even with her dearest friend, she had designated several hours to herself. Otherwise, Rienne was liable to get cranky and rather antisociable. Rienne wondered whether Chauvelin would put up with her if she got angry with him. He wouldn't have to. Sighing, Adrienne pursed her lips. While she was pleased by his answer, it didn't make her feel that much better. Still, she eventually smiled. “A contract won't be necessary” though Rienne could read, it had been a while since she'd had to. She was the child of a rich man. As a child she had been taught to read, and to write, but only the basics, only most of it was musical knowledge. She hadn't needed anything else. Only to be able to write her own name and read a few pieces of music. Her mother had often liked to teach her songs that she had once sung. It was not often a prostitute was given anything to read, and Rienne didn't particularly want to read books. “I would be able to keep the place?” she asked shocked, that was generous of him. She had not expected that. But she was not about to say no to it. “Everything you have told me sounds perfectly fine. I am more than happy to accept your offer” Rienne nodded at him. “Is there anything you would like to ask me Paul?” she asked curiously.

[atrb=width,100] words , 391 words tagged , Paul-Francois Chauvelin notes ,

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[PAUL CHAUVELIN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-image: url(http://i217.photobucket.com/albums/cc172/damijoandamija/sbg.jpg); padding-left: 50px; padding-bottom: 20px; padding-top: 10px;] damaged I am merely the product…..of the life that I've lived An amalgam of sorrows.....and the wisdom they give But the weight has grown heavy [style= text-align: center]and it's dragging me down It's so hard not to sink now but I don't want to drown

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chauvelin

tags || Rienne

Chauvelin laughed with genuine amusement at the question about cooking. "No," he answered, "I have a cook." And very talented in her field she was, as his constant battle to keep his waistline under control attested. While a bit of extra flesh was testament to a man's prosperity, Paul had not survived the turmoils of his six decades in France by allowing himself to get fat and soft. Agnes had also been with him for years and was totally loyal, an important factor with a woman such as Sylvie St-Cyr around.

"And yes," he added, "you would be able to keep the place." All those years ago, Therese had been surprised by that element too, he remembered. He had a number of reasons for it, some practical, some going back to those republican ideals, however tattered and faded, he still secretly harbored.

The memory of those ideals brought sharply to mind the current political climate and his cheerful manner clouded a little. "If I might make a suggestion on that score, however, I would advise something not ostentatious. And located away from the haut-bourgeoisie. It's not a question of price, I assure you, merely … " he paused, looking for the right words. "There's a storm coming, and lightning strikes the highest, n'cest-ce pas?*"

Glad that she had accepted his offer, Chauvelin himself was a little surprised at her inquiry whether he had any questions. Therese hadn't asked him that, but then Therese wasn't especially bright or imaginative, and Adrienne was clearly both. He was quiet for a few moments, considering. As suited his occupation, he was an intensely curious man, but he had no great desire to pry into the young woman's private life. At least, not to pry beyond what was necessary to determine she wasn't a threat to him, which he'd already done.

Smiling, the old spymaster resumed his pleasant, affable demeanor. "Just what costume you intend to wear to the Masquerade. His Majesty has requested the colors of red and white, but beyond that it's up to your imagination – and that of your dressmaker."

notes ||

[/b] *isn't that so?[/div][/center][/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table]

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[adrienne]

s h o u ld i g i v e u p o r s h o u l d i

just keep chasing pavements even though it

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g79/Juliart/background_black.jpg');,true][cs=2] L E A D S N O W H E R E

[atrb=width,240] Rienne bit her lip, in effort not to laugh, but the laughter was infectious and soon she found herself chuckling with him. She sighed in relief when he told her that she would not have to cook. Rienne wasn't exactly the most homely of women. “Honestly, last time I tried to cook my... friend, she threw it back up pretty quickly.” she told him Her friend had not let her cook anything for her again. “That is generous M'sieur,” she spoke, and looked at him. Rienne was not about to tell him that he could keep the place, if he was offering it, then she would take it. Rienne wondered if other men like himself would have allowed her to keep the place, but Rienne honestly didn't go. This was the first time she'd considered an agreement like this. Rienne would have been a fool, to decline, and if there were one thing Rienne did not want to be, that was a fool. She nodded at Chauvelin, yet didn't turn her head to look at him. “I do not need anything ostenatious. Merely somewhere that I can sleep” Rienne had no interest in living near the aristocrats, and would happily ask for an – decent – back alley apartment if need be. “Yes” she agreed bluntly. The lighting did strike the highest. She smiled to herself. Adrienne blinked at him, watching his reaction and waiting for his question. She was a bit surprised when he merely asked about her dress. Or what she planned to wear. “Honestly M'sieur I have no idea. But I do not look all that good in red.” she nodded and then looked down at her own dress. “I do not think I will wear anything outrageous if that is what you are thinking. It will be tasteful” she frowned, assuming that M'sieur Chauvelin was doubting her ability to dress herself. “A ball does sound exciting though” she commented after a moment. It was true, it did sound exciting, Rienne had never been to anything like a ball. Sure she had been to dances, but she'd never had a partner, willing to go alone and they were never fancy. Often she'd just gone in hope of luring some drunk man into her bed, and stealing a few coins as she did.

[atrb=width,100] words , 385 words tagged , Paul Chauvelin notes ,

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[PAUL CHAUVELIN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-image: url(http://i217.photobucket.com/albums/cc172/damijoandamija/sbg.jpg); padding-left: 50px; padding-bottom: 20px; padding-top: 10px;] damaged I am merely the product…..of the life that I've lived An amalgam of sorrows.....and the wisdom they give But the weight has grown heavy [style= text-align: center]and it's dragging me down It's so hard not to sink now but I don't want to drown

[/size][/font][/style]

chauvelin

tags || Rienne

"Yes," Chauvelin said. "Yes, it ought to be very exciting." And not necessarily in a good way, he thought. Not for the first time, he debated how much to tell her about what was really going to be happening at the Ball. It wasn't going to be a party for him. He wasn't going there to drink and dance and have a good time. He was going there to do what he did best, to deceive and manipulate, to swim beneath the surface playing a secret game. But it wasn't just secret, it was dangerous, and he was using her as a pawn in it. Pawns were sacrificed in such games, and Paul had done his share of throwing people to the wolves, and if he'd never sold anyone cheaply, still, sell them he had. Most had had at least some idea of the risks, but some had been innocent dupes. It was always a question which would serve them -- and him -- better.

A naturally secretive man, he usually erred on the side of silence, and he did so now, smiling his amiable smile and speaking in his friendly-uncle voice. "I only ask about your costume," the old spymaster said, "in order that my own doesn't clash with it. I've found it's much simpler to match with the lady's than the reverse. Men's clothing is far more boring and less imaginative."

Another couple was straying too close and showed no sign of planning to leave anytime soon, so Chauvelin set himself and Rienne moving again. "I'm glad that you've decided to accompany me," he said as they resumed their stroll. "And I expect that you have a great deal to do, so many details to attend to." There was finding and choosing the place that would be hers, for good. And he wasn't clear on what went into the making of a dress, but with the upcoming ball every competent seamstress in the city was likely to be swamped with work, and it would probably be best to get her own order in early. "I'll give you the name of my banker and set up an account for you so you can draw what funds you require. Do you have any other questions, or anything you need from me?"

When she made no reply, he nodded, handing her a signed letter from him to the banker, with the address at the top. "Excellent. I'll be in touch, then."

notes ||

[/b] prolly winding down, unless you can think of something I've missed?[/div][/center][/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table]

TEMPLATE BY ANYA OF CAUTION 2.0

LYRICS BY ASSEMBLAGE 23[/center] BY ASSEMBLAGE 23[/font][/size][/center]