"Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded --with what caution --with what foresight --with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. "~The Tell-Tale Heart, by Edgar Allen Poe
"Master Aquitaine," Mouse called out following in the wake of the man who nearly did her in, his legs were so long that a single step to him was nearly four for her own, "Master!" From behind she came her eyes wide, a cheeks flushed with the color of the summer sun that had her run to greet him. It was when she gasped did he turn to finally face her, realizing her reaction came with the look in his eyes. Dark midnight blue eyes were simply alive with the battle ahead, he had become obsessed with it--possessed.
"Dear Mouse..
Ma petite," He touched her cheek gently the pale bare hand seeming so cool against her flushed features," Do not be so frightened, but speak quickly." There had always been a cool calm that surrounded him, the very wind could have been rival to the sway of his emotions onto another, and the breeze could have any pull their overcoat closer together; or all of her clothes to the floor.
"You have visitors, M'lord." She smiled up to him, the balls of her cheeks so round he could not help but be reminded of his darling Genevieve, and how many times he had resisted the urge to pinch them from her laughter. It was not hard to love Genna, but to be so in love with such a small child--he had never thought to see the day. However, it was then easy to read the surprise that shifted over his face when she spoke of visitors, their announcement would not be far behind, "They wait for you in the parlor."
"Visitors? At this time, hardly seems appropriate don't you agree." He had seemed rather cold, though curious all the while shedding away from his riders jacket at the aid of her able hands.
"It is the Lord and Lady of your homeland, Master. The Comte and Comtesse of Guyenne, Sir."
His heart stopped.Many times in his life had he felt himself watching, wondering what it would be like to breath under water, as in this moment he felt the universe simply another ocean where the waves crashed around him. It was the mind of science, the constant search for answers well known in the universe, and the bidding of the hand of God in the role of the modern day mind. Jean-Claude, was a man of sound mind no matter how much he chased the dream of wayward fashions, and found answers in the most unlikely place.
"Did..did they come alone?" He could hardly manage words as his hands came to rest against the back of the chair for support, and eyes set on the door that would lead to the parlor, feeling no less the spirit of a child with the reasons in the same lesson. It had surprised Mouse to see him come apart, but Jean-Claude was about to come face to face with the most haunted figures of his past. To this day the reason for his success was limited in only the ways a mother had pushed him away, and a father had only ever been the shadow behind a stagecoach's drawn curtain. Mouse found herself coming to touch the bend of his arm to escort him, to break him from his thoughts, and rival through the fears.
"They did, M'lord. No one has come to take you away." She whispered worried now, though surprised when he smiled amused at her. Really, this little nun has become a dear friend, but he did not fear they would come with an army to remove him; burn him again. No, Jean-Claude, simply wondered if their reasons were pure. He knew it would not take long before his name reached the outside world, that the theory alone could have seen many killed simply by speaking his name, but now he was safe behind the Griffin crown. It would be a cold day in hell before he would allow anyone to take that, not when he just found happiness, and for the first time in his life could speak freely in the company of political figures. Of course, it hardly went past those of this castle..and really it was just Claramae. That was enough for him. He let Mouse escort him, to the room where the Comtesse sat perched on the edge of the cushioned chair displaying every adorned finger over the arms like some royal on her throne, and the Comte stood at the head of the chair waiting quietly, seeming more stone then man. It had been how he had known them all his life.
The entire length of their stay, and the persistent desire to remain even as the Master Aquitaine visited Skye had made the little nun wonder if they knew the Master personally, but when she felt Jean-Claude still beneath her palm did she realize that when the door opened and their eyes met it was a deep connection indeed. It frightened her when he went so still, he closed up and no matter how much he would deny it--that was fear.
"M'lord and Lady, Comte and Comtesse..May I present to you."
"My son!" Lenor stood from her seat, a flurry of full skirts that even at her age seemed flawless, and the bodice against her midsection like liquid it was held so tight. She had an unhappy face, the kind where lines seemed to deepen from the years of frowning; an unpleasant woman but one who kept the estate working like a ship, she captained it to perfection, and would be damned before another could rival the matter of the fortune. This was a woman who knew well the plot behind politics, and though her role was not nearly as significant as her husband's she knew well how to puppet the Comte. She had always been a strong woman, one that he felt for certain would never be what came rushing to his arms. She was so frail now, under all her painted features, and tightly pinned hair. This was what age would do to souls so miserable. She wept, cried open tears that had not only started Mouse, but nearly undid her Master. The nun would let go of her hold on Jean-Claude's arm to take a few steps back looking now to the Comte who stood as motionless as she had thought Jean-Claude had gone. He showed no emotion, his judgmental brow seeming a trait that had carried to his son, and no doubt his coloring. Though it was silver now, the black could not be mistaken of the undertone of what body did not change. He held the same set jaw, and the very color of the midnight sky that now pooled with a single unshed tear--his only sign of humanity, where his wife was a mess with emotion.
My son..
