Setting: The fictional estate of the fictional Duc DeLaFlote near port Lorient, Bretagne, France.
Date: 17something...
Under cover of darkness a cloaked figure made its shadowy way over the courtyard wall to a window. A candle was lit in the sill, and the light spilling forth into the courtyard illuminated the door beside it. After a discreet knock, the door opened and the candle was doused.
Silently, and covered by the even more profound darkness of the interior, the cloaked figure was led to another door, and poked its hooded head inside.
“Charles!” whispered the figure with feminine accents.
This pronouncement made its way to a soundless figure in an ornate chair, and upon contact with his ears, startled him awake. Inadvertently, his pipe flew from his hand, spilling its contents upon the rug.
“Marie? Come in, dash it. Hurry up!”
Marie entered, shutting the door behind her. She flung her cloak on the chair beside his and began to warm herself by the fire that was the only illumination in the vast library.
“Vigilant, Charles,” her tone was full of amusement.
“It’s after midnight!”
“You can’t convince me you’re not used to keeping late hours, Charles. It’s a good thing Trebout is more vigilant than you, or I’d still be out in the rain.”
“I pay him well, at least.”
She deigned not to reply but shot him another amused glance. Then she coughed. “You smell awfully like that pipe, Charles.”
“No; it’s the rug. You’ve made me spill ashes on it.”
“If you hadn’t fallen asleep!”
“Oh hush,” he said crossly. “You don’t smell so good either.”
“Can I help it? Besides, that’s no way to treat your sister. Do you know what I’ve forfeited to come when I got your letter?”
“I don’t keep up with pirate gossip,” he muttered.
She flung herself in a chair with rather masculine haste. “I suppose not,” she said darkly. By the firelight, the contrast of her pale face against her raven tresses was sharp. But the light in her green eyes was most striking of all.
Suddenly, the boyish grin flashed and Charles wandered over to the decanter to pour her a drink. Silence reigned, even after he’d given her a glass and resumed his place.
“How long has it been, Marie?” he finally asked.
“Three months,” she readily supplied.
“I’m surprised I haven’t been more worried about you than I have.”
“I’d think you were used to it.”
“Very likely. And I know too well how handily you take care of yourself.” He paused. “Well, now that I’m comparatively awake, I need to tell you why I sent for you. I was, by the way, terrified that I wouldn’t reach you in time. I heard you were near, let me see… Greece?”
“Italy.”
“Right. Well, no matter. You are here. The thing is, I need you here for a ball next week-”
“A ball? Charles, is that all-”
“No! No; Marie, our uncle will be here. He made me promise you would be in attendance. It is, as he put it, ‘devilish impossible’ to find you here on the continent. Honestly, he has no idea.” He fell silent for a moment of reflection.
“Why does he so wish for me to be at his ball?” Marie demanded. “What is so important that I had to call off a raid in the Mediterranean-?”
“A raid! Marie, you must be more violent than I thought.” Charles looked shocked. Sitting there in his overstuffed chair and silk dressing-gown, he had a right to be.
She laughed. “A mock raid, Charles. I made a deal with the Sardinian government. It’s a complicated plan to catch a particularly notorious pirate who- oh, never mind Charles. You begin to look bored.” She chuckled. “I do know that captain, however, and he deserves to-”
“Sounds delightful,” he yawned. “In any case, I have no idea what Uncle wants. Rest assured, however, you’ll find out as soon as he arrives. In all events, surely you don’t mind a rest from all your pirating flummery as well as a chance to visit your favorite brother, who, I hasten to add, is your benefactor.”
“Yes, Charles,” she chuckled. “Only don’t speak so loudly. I still don’t trust your servants not to eavesdrop.”
“No, I don’t suppose, in your position, that you can trust anyone. Alright, Marie: it’s late. I want you to stay tonight at the Meriwether and ‘arrive’ in all your ducal finery tomorrow noon.”
“Oh Charles, why can’t I stay here and say I arrived early in the morning?”
“No; I have too many guests who are early risers. Besides, Trebout has already gotten your clothing ready and is probably waiting downstairs now, feeling like a fool with so much ribbon and lace in his arms.”
Marie stood and folded her cloak over her arm. “I hope he’s got the correct traveling clothes. Men don’t know anything about dress.”
“I resent that,” said the foppish Charles, patting his silk dressing-gown affectionately.
“Never mind,” said Marie, and then added, “Out of curiosity Charles, who are your houseguests?”
“Lady Renouet and her husband; Jean-Jacques Dariot (you remember him, my old school friend); Aunt Adelie-”
“Charles!” his sister gasped, horrified. “Not Aunt Adelie! Oh I really hope Trebout has the right gowns. Aunt Adelie will roast me if I’m not properly attired, and-”
“Thank Heaven she doesn’t see you now,” interjected Charles.
She ignored this.
“And when Uncle Guillaume gets here, they’ll be at each other like cats and dogs!”
“Well, we shall just have to be a good example of brother-and-sister-like affection to them.”
“Nonsense, Charles. They’re past repair.” She stopped, yawning. “Well in any case, I shall need a new wardrobe for your ball and, I suspect, your inevitable house party, especially with Aunt Adelie present. Between my ladylike finery and my pirate finery, I shall have the grandest wardrobe in France!” She grinned, fingering her satin bodice and claret-colored breeches with pride.
Charles groaned. “Oh, be off, you. I’ll see you in the morning.” As she turned to leave, he added, “I wish I really was paying for a Paris season for you and not for your pirating expeditions. It would be a whole lot less expensive.”
She opened the door to depart but shot back in a whisper, “But far less fun, Charles. Court in Versailles would stifle me!"
postscript
For anyone interested in the first few pages of a short story I'm writing on Uma LaRoche, here's a few pages. And yes, I know you all get tired of reading everyone's stories about their characters. However, this is unlikely to be like the norm. I'm writing it not because I want to write about my drawing character, but because Uma is a good subject on which to practice my fiction writing skills. ^^Do enjoy, and let me know if you're interested in reading the rest. Beleive me, it gets MUCH more exciting than this. (hint: swordfights, a ball, said ball being attached by pirates, annoying houseguests, stolen jewels, a debt repaid, a port town under attack, Italian pirates vs. French pirates, and so on.) ^^ Also, please push the paragraph button in the little toolbar on the top right hand side of the text. SO much easier to read that way! chapter two: [link]