The Snakestone Jewel, Chapter Three

[nike_ravus]

Title: On the Experiences of an Exceptional Gentlewoman
Or
The Snakestone Jewel, Part Three

Author: Alsike

Pairing: None, as of yet... well, unless you want to assume certain things about certain people.

Fandom: Take a wild guess.

Rating: PG (May increase to PG-13 in later chapters)

Apologies: So, I know I said City on the River was going to be next, but although I've been writing bits of it during class, it is rather slow in progression, and then I remembered that I had the next chapter of this nearly finished, and apparently I'm still in the mood for young Emily (although in this case she is not about to do anything inappropriate), so, when I finished my homework for this week at 4:30, and had energy left in me, I decided to polish this one up instead.  Any fic is better than no fic, right?  

One

Two  

 

 

Emily wasn’t yet certain of what she thought of parties in Paris.  In a way they reminded her of the dinner parties her parents had held, her sneaking out of bed to watch the flickering lights and listen to the laughter.  But it was so different to be actually at one, and feel so alone in so much company.

 

She trailed behind Lady Adler, who was walking primly on the arm of Corporal Darkholme.  The Corporal had risen to the occasion, tidied his uniform and shined his boots, and he almost looked like a respectable member of society, and not a ruffian, as Emily knew he was.  She had decided, without doubt, that she hated him, and his sudden arrival suddenly supplanting her as he swept in and took over all her duties, making her feel useless and precarious, had absolutely nothing to do with it.  Lady Adler lifted her hand as she greeted all the important personages attendant.  Emily was not introduced.  Clement de Laverdy appeared from an adjoining room and hurried to greet her.

 

“Dear Lady Adler!  Do come play a game of whist!”

 

Lady Adler smiled.  “Well, I cannot play so well, but perhaps if the good Colonel were to be my eyes…”

 

“Of course!” exclaimed the Controller-General, and both Lady Adler and Corporal Darkholme were hurried off to the tables, leaving Emily entirely to her own devices.

 

Her devices were not really of much interest.  She wandered around the room, trying not to meet anyone’s eyes, and ended up by the bookshelf.  Most of the titles seemed to be economic analyses or manuals of seamanship.  There was a slim volume of what looked like poetry with a Latin author lying flat on the edge of a shelf.  She reached out to take it.  As her hand touched it another hand, this one large and male, fell on hers, closing around it in a firm grip, warm blunt fingers pressing against the skin below the glove.

 

She looked up into the face of the gentleman standing beside her.  He was a tall fair man, in a sober, expensive suit.  He was not young, but handsome in a masculine fashion, and the light touch of white at his hairline made him look distinguished.  He was perhaps the age her father would have been, but unlike her father, his eyes were cold and blue, and when they fell on Emily they were cruelly appraising.  The pressure of his grip on her hand hurt.

 

 “I wouldn’t look at that, if I were you.  A young person would not be advised to read Ovid in respectable company.”  He smiled a tight thin smile, as if amused at something she could not understand.  “In private of course, what she does is her own affair.”

 

There was something wrong about the way he was looking at her.  His eyes didn’t focus, or meet hers, but it was only when he glanced away that she realized that he had been looking at her like she was a thing.  “But if you would like a translator, little sparrow.”  His fingers slid up her hand and curled around her bare arm, slightly sweaty, and they pressed her and his eyes flicked towards the door.  And Emily didn’t know what she was supposed to do.  Why did no one interrupt?  Even the ruffian Corporal would be a godsend.  Why wouldn’t he let go of her?

 

But fortuitously there was a call from across the room.  The gentleman looked up and released her arm, to her nearly unbearable relief.  He responded and moved away to the card tables.  Emily stood stiffly, blinking back tears, and pressing her hand against her skirts, trying to scratch away the shadowy feeling he had left on her skin.

 

*            *            *

 

“Miss Prentiss!  How lovely to see you again!” 

 

Emily turned to see Lieutenant Frost come up to her, smiling brightly.  And she could breathe again.  He was friendly and young and warm, and he would never be impolite to her.  It was all she could do to not grasp his arm and cling to him in relief.  “Oh, Lieutenant…”

 

“Did you forget my name already?”

 

“Of course not!”  Emily couldn’t help smiling at him.  “How could I forget my protector?”

 

Christian glanced down to spy her empty hands, and his eyes widened at the sight.  “Do you have nothing to drink?”

 

“I hadn’t-“

 

“This must be remedied.”  He caught up her arm.  His gloves were white and clean, and he led her to the servant and dealt with him until he had managed to procure something other than ratafia.  “This is Paris.  You should have wine.”

 

She laughed at his solicitiousness, but took it politely.  “So, Lieutenant Frost, have you discovered how many sisters you have yet?”

 

“I have three as I expected,” he said, still smiling brightly.  “But I have an unexpected nephew as well!  My elder sister, she is married and gone back to England, has borne a son.  Unfortunately they have saddled him with the name François Roderick Amaranthus, and unless he becomes plain Frank, I pity him his schooling.”

 

“Congratulations.”

 

Christian shook his head.  “You are not interested in my family happenings.  You must tell me exactly how you find Paris.  It is very grand, is it not?”

 

“Parts of it are,” Emily said, considering.  “But some of it is rather narrow and squalid.”

 

Christian blinked.  “Well yes.  I knew this.  But where have you been visiting in Paris?”

 

Emily felt suddenly skittish.  “Oh, Lady Adler sends me on errands everywhere.”

 

“Everywhere?  To the Latin Quarter even?”

 

“On the south bank?  I had to find a bookshop there for the newest book by Ann Radcliffe.”

 

Christian laughed.  “Well, you certainly are getting a tour of the city!  And has your mistress done anything shocking lately?”

 

Emily opened her mouth to complain about the ruffian of a soldier who had moved right in with them, and hesitated.  Christian was ingenuous, and seemed merely amused.  But who else might he tell?  Who could be listening?  She had been upset by not being allowed any secrets to keep, but perhaps she needed to be more aware of what secrets surrounded her.  “Oh nothing more than usual,” she said with an attempt at a smile.  “She has so many acquaintances in Paris, she is always visiting.”

 

“Visiting…”  Christian’s eyes drifted away from her to somewhere behind, and then he brightened.  “Miss Emily!”  He looked at her, a little worried.  “Is that all right?  That I call you that?”  Emily nodded.  “I just recalled.”  He touched her shoulder as if to remind her that he had not forgotten her and turned to call out to another young man in a well-cut suit, who had just come into the room.  “Mr. Garcia!”

 

The dark-haired young man glanced up and caught sight of Christian.  He gave that amused smiled that Emily recognized from her own reaction to Christian’s enthusiasm.  But he came over.

 

“Lieutenant.”

 

“Miss Emily,” Christian turned to her.  “I thought of you the moment I met him.  This is my dear friend Anthony Garcia.  He worked as a clerk under your father in Jaipur.”

 

He looked back to Anthony, his warm smile becoming more pensive and affectionate and Emily felt a sudden admiration for the way he cared for his friend.  Anthony touched his arm in greeting before turning to Emily and making a leg.  Emily stared at him curiously.  He was good-looking, swarthiness was no impediment for her, with a round face framed by shiny dark curls, which were tied back in a blue silk bow.

 

“I do believe I may have seen you before.”

 

Anthony nodded, smiling. “And I you, though only in passing.  Your father did not bring work into the nursery.  You are quite grown up though.”

 

“Yes,” Emily said.  “You haven’t changed very much.”

 

Anthony laughed. 

 

Christian smiled at them both.  “I am so glad that you both know each other.”

 

“Why?” Anthony inquired with a grin.  “Did you feel embarrassed in making a bald approach to me and would prefer to be correctly introduced?  Miss Prentiss, could you do the honors?”

 

“I’m not sure if can,” Emily replied, barely keeping the smile off her face.  “For Lieutenant Frost also baldly approached me without an introduction.  To offer his oilskin, in fact.  An honorable intent, but truly not the form.”

 

Christian sighed and made a pathetic expression.  “Then I suppose I must not speak to either of you.  I will depart, and strike up an acquaintance with the refreshments.”

 

Anthony flashed her a grin.  “Shall we forgive him?”

 

“Perhaps this once,” Emily said with amused archness.  “But dear Lieutenant, be aware that we will be keeping a careful eye out for lapses in the future.”

 

Christian pressed his hand to his chest in mock contrition.  “Oh do forgive me, and I shall be most punctilious.”

 

Emily smiled.  When living with her relatives, she had often thought about getting married.  It had seemed the only possible way of changing her life for the better.  But it was such a risk.  The eligible choices that her aunt had discussed volubly with her friends over tea, not noticing Emily ensconced in the windowseat behind the curtain, had been so incredibly awful, the prospective life: a widowed lawyer’s new bride, a small man in trade’s status-conscious purchase; a premonition of endless boredom and small miseries, that Emily could understand her mother’s choice, to risk her future on a dashing soldier, whose promise was either grand and adventurous or penurious and dreadful, but always exciting.

 

Christian was kind and friendly and chivalrous.  She wondered if he would want to live in India.  Embarrassed by her on thoughts, she turned towards Anthony.  “Mr. Garcia, what do you do now that you have left India?”

 

“Actually,” Anthony made an expression of bemusement, “I have found myself employed by the French.  As an accountant I found work with a merchant service, moving into their headquarters, and when they decided to open a branch in Paris I was assigned here.  They work quite closely with the department of finances in the French government.”

 

“Oh, so you know Monsieur de Laverdy?”

 

“I report to him daily.”

 

Emily glanced over to the whist table.  Lady Adler sat with her friend, de Laverdy, and two other gentlemen.  One was rotund with a wild beard and hair obscuring his face.  He wore the uniform of an Admiral.  The other was the tall fair man who had approached her at the bookcase.  She turned away swiftly.

 

“He seems to be a close friend of my Lady’s.”

 

“Your Lady’s?”

 

“Yes.  I am Lady Adler’s companion.”

 

Anthony looked at her curiously.  “You are employed?”

 

“Yes.  It is… quite respectable.”  Emily said, trying not to let her doubt show though.

 

“But why are you not in school?”

 

“My aunt would not pay for it, and I cannot touch my fortune for a few more years.”

 

“But surely,” Anthony cupped his chin.  “It was a long time ago, but I am certain that your father would have provided for such a situation.  The jewels alone…”

 

“There was nothing of great value.”

 

“Even in the Indian fortune?”

 

Emily stared at him blankly.  “What Indian fortune?”

 

“Your father did not put much trust in British banks.  He kept a separate collection in India, to ‘fall back on, just in case’ he said.”

 

“I have never heard of such a thing.  I am sure if it existed someone would have heard by now.”  Her grasping relatives at the very least, she supposed.

 

Anthony nodded, still frowning.  “Please don’t worry about it.  But if I could… I would have your permission to write a letter of inquiry in your name.  Do you think that would be acceptable?”

 

“If you think it wise, please go ahead.”

 

“Are you really talking about business?” Christian cried.  “This is a party!  Miss Emily, have you been to the opera yet?”

 

Emily laughed, a little unbalanced by the sudden change in topic.  “No, not yet.  I’m not… entirely sure if I will like it.”

 

“You should take in the new work of Gluck.  It is not like anything I’ve seen before,” Anthony suggested.

 

They continued to speak of lighter topics, Emily’s financial situation and her questions of loyalty forgotten.  With Christian and Anthony there, Emily was almost willing to say that she was having a good time.

 

“Christian!  Are you conversing with the servants again?”  A girl, younger even than Emily, her hair short enough to make no pretense at adult styles, and her skirt barely reaching her ankles, stalked up, frowning.  She gave Emily a cold blue-eyed glance.

 

Christian glanced up, surprised, and then gave the girl an indulgent look.  “Dear sister, this is Miss Emily Prentiss, daughter of the late Governor Prentiss of Rajasthan.”

 

“Oh, the orphan.”  Emily stiffened.

 

“Emma.”

 

Emily flinched.  Was this the Honorable Miss Emma Frost who had written the letter? 

 

“And this is one of my innumerable sisters, Emma.”  Christian put a firm hand on her shoulder, as if that would do any good to restrain her tongue.

 

Emma gave her brother a narrow look.  “Right now I am your only sister, with Adrienne married and Cordelia off at school in Switzerland.  You should appreciate me.”

 

“I’m sure I do!” Christian exclaimed.

 

She gave a slight, but still unladylike, snort.  “You appreciate very little,” she said, more softly, and with an inflection that suggested she meant something entirely different.  Her eyes flickered over to Emily again, and her expression was blatantly unimpressed.  “And what you do appreciate is worth very little.”

 

Anthony’s expression was undeniably awkward.  “I, ah, I was thinking of asking around to see if anyone was interested in a game of hazard, to liven the party.”

 

Christian’s face lightened.  “An excellent idea.  I believe Mr. Robert Drake might be interested.  He is always up for a game of risk, and never slow in paying his loss.”

 

They were clearly abandoning her, and Emily glanced over to the table, wishing the fair man wasn’t still playing with Lady Adler, so she could make her excuse without wishing it were false.  “I should check to see if my lady requires anything.”

 

The gentlemen were already moving away and joining another group of young men, suggesting their game to general approval.

 

“Running to your mistress’ heel?” the vicious girl asked snidely.

 

Emily could not restrain herself any longer.  They were alone enough.  In a low tone she half-hissed, “I find it rather intriguing that you mock me for being a servant when you were desperate enough to leave the bosom of your family to put yourself forward and apply for my position.”

 

Emma paled slightly, and then the shock turned to fury.  “You know nothing about me, or my family.”

 

“Nor do I hope to!”

 

“That wasn’t what it looked like.”  Her eyes narrowed.  “You are a poor little working girl.  You may have once been someone, but you aren’t anymore.  Stay away from my brother.  You are not in any way of the quality necessary to be a Frost.”

 

“As if I’d ever want to be part of a family that had you in it.  Your brother seemed in no little hurry to get away from you, I doubt he’d care if he never saw you again.”

“How dare you.  You are ill bred, and ill mannered, and it’s amusing that you would even think yourself pretty enough to hold my brother’s interest.  If you and that disreputable witch you’re a slave to never speak to us again, it will be too soon.” 

 

Emily could not find English words harsh enough to express her offense.  “Veshshya,” she hissed.  Emma whirled with incomprehending shocked eyes.

 

“Don’t put your curses on me.” 

 

But Emily turned and stalked off toward the whist tables, not responding.  The fair gentleman had thankfully moved to a different table, and Emily spent the rest of the evening sitting a little behind Lady Adler and Corporal Darkholme, while the corporal played whist and her ladyship had little insinuating conversations with everyone, which Emily did her best to ignore.

 

Finally Lady Adler tapped the Corporal’s arm significantly, and he stood to offer his arm, which Lady Adler pretended to use to help herself rise, and Emily gratefully rose as well.  But as they were approaching the door, having taken their leave of nearly a quarter of the attendees, the fair gentleman who had accosted Emily at the bookcase came up to them and bowed.  He had a smile on his face, but Emily didn’t trust it for a second.

 

“Lady Adler,” he spoke, ignoring both her companions as if neither existed.

 

“Lord Frost.”

 

And Emily’s chest tightened.  Was he really…?  But all three were fair and well formed, and apparently only Christian was free of the tendency towards unsuitable rudeness to young ladies.

 

“Regarding our previous interview, I would be pleased to invite you to stay with me, at any time.  I am letting a rather respectable villa in Tuscany, and should be greatly honored if you would come visit.”

 

An unreadable close-lipped smile crossed Lady Adler’s face.  “Oh, I should count on it, my dear Lord Frost.”  Then she gave a half bow (only Lady Adler was allowed to call this a courtesy) and took her leave.

 

They continued out the door and down to the street where the carriage awaited them.  Emily held her peace until the door had clicked closed on them, and the horse had been urged into motion.  But then she turned to her ladyship, desperation tingeing her voice.  “Why did you accept the invitation of that horrible man!”

 

“Why?” repeated Lady Adler.  “Because he is a scoundrel, and the activities of a scoundrel are always far more interesting than that of a saint.”

 

*            *            *

 

Comments

[jijibebe.livejournal.com]

oh so glad to see this started again! i just adore period pieces and loved the Emily/Emma interaction.