Reinette arose early that morning, if only because she still had difficulty sleeping. She was hardly dressed before Louis sent a missive requesting she receive him, which of course there was no question if they would. But the played the game, between them. And they played it well.
For a man that always heard yes, she knew quite well one of the things that drew him to her was the possibility she might say 'no'. Until, of course, the time she had actually said it. That still did not sit well between them, even if they made a fine show of otherwise. But eventually knew was confident it would fade, even with Louis. Especially with Louis. He was far too distractable in the physical sense.
He came early as promised, it must have been immediately after morning mass. Normally Louis avoided such collisions of what was generally viewed as sin and soul. But he came, none the less. And Reinette pressed their coffee in the usual way as they discussed the events of court and the comings and goings there.
Eventually talk turned to her daughter, whom Louis was extremely fond of. He mentioned the day, then. That it was sure to be a lovely one. And even though Reinette was not one to be so quietly manipulated she had to agree to both of his points. And so mother and daughter spent the better part of the morning walking and in the company of her favorite fat duck.
When she returned, it was to news of a commotion in the halls. A man seen very close to her rooms. With a sharp gaze she pressed questions to people that would never meet her eyes.
Did he wear a coat? No, hardly that.
What of something on his wrist? No, nothing like that.
Was he attractive, with dark hair? Never. Bruised and stinking and surely just another peasant gone missing.
Reinette thought of the country baker that had lost himself in the halls of Versailles just the year before and frowned.
When she finally saw Louis again, she pressed the same questions towards him. He merely laughed, unconcerned.
He was gone six months before, Reinette reminded herself quietly. It had yet to even be six days.
no subject
For a man that always heard yes, she knew quite well one of the things that drew him to her was the possibility she might say 'no'. Until, of course, the time she had actually said it. That still did not sit well between them, even if they made a fine show of otherwise. But eventually knew was confident it would fade, even with Louis. Especially with Louis. He was far too distractable in the physical sense.
He came early as promised, it must have been immediately after morning mass. Normally Louis avoided such collisions of what was generally viewed as sin and soul. But he came, none the less. And Reinette pressed their coffee in the usual way as they discussed the events of court and the comings and goings there.
Eventually talk turned to her daughter, whom Louis was extremely fond of. He mentioned the day, then. That it was sure to be a lovely one. And even though Reinette was not one to be so quietly manipulated she had to agree to both of his points. And so mother and daughter spent the better part of the morning walking and in the company of her favorite fat duck.
When she returned, it was to news of a commotion in the halls. A man seen very close to her rooms. With a sharp gaze she pressed questions to people that would never meet her eyes.
Did he wear a coat? No, hardly that.
What of something on his wrist? No, nothing like that.
Was he attractive, with dark hair? Never. Bruised and stinking and surely just another peasant gone missing.
Reinette thought of the country baker that had lost himself in the halls of Versailles just the year before and frowned.
When she finally saw Louis again, she pressed the same questions towards him. He merely laughed, unconcerned.
He was gone six months before, Reinette reminded herself quietly. It had yet to even be six days.