The day was chillier than any others of the month, showing Isabeau the colder side of the mansion in the northern areas of Larson. Normally in October the temperature would still be fairly humid in Dent where she grew up. Her mother would still take her out to the beach and let her soak her feet in the cool water, not for long though due to the amount of crime in their city. Now Isabeau’s long curly hair, dripping wet, only exasperated the already dropping temperature.
She didn’t mind it too much since her hair was finally out in its natural state. Typically her father didn’t like her acclaimed “unruly” hair and had it straightened. On Sundays however she was granted a period of rest since Sundays were dedicated to worship of God and not self primping.
Church had just ended and Isabeau had again found herself in the garden, strolling on the brick paths while admiring the butterflies that landed on the flowers; their amount now scarce due to the cold weather. The flowers weren’t doing so well themselves, beginning to wilt under the pressure of a coming winter. Such a shame, Isabeau couldn’t help but think. Not only did the gardens give her an excuse to leave the suffocating walls of the mansion, they also provided a beautiful flourish of colors and life. She tried not to dwell too much, as the summer plants faded along with the lush colors more would come; long, beautiful vines would grow and await budding while the garden would become enveloped in snow. Beautiful in a different way.
Her father had perched himself on his balcony that cascaded over the gardens, smoking a pipe while flipping through letters. When he told her foreign affairs were bustling he wasn’t lying, letters flowed into his hands by the minute; from whom she could not tell. Isabeau slightly glanced up and, upon seeing his head curiously tilt to the side, she smiled and continued walking on through the gardens. The lord gave her a smirk before turning back to his letters.
Isabeau was nosy and upon searching through his office papers in unholy hours of the night, she knew he was playing a game of political poker. Which could be used to describe any political game. Upon many exchanges from the Lord of Andres, which was to be expected seeing as they were working out an endowment and marriage agreement, Isabeau also found many unmarked notes that were sealed tight with wax. Most Lords discussed their affairs in private, but never private enough to send unmarked letters; at that point they’d arrange a visit or party. She couldn’t help but wonder not only the sender but the content inside, was it about their soon arrival at the castle? Or about the growing instability? Could her father be planning something? But what… none of it made much sense.
Isabeau had only been around her father for seven years but it was enough to know he was a man content with life. He was older and most of his political affairs involved wealth building, flaunting, and securing an heir. Since Isabeau and her mother were more so adopted into the family and her mother had died during a failed childbirth they were more trophy at this point. Looking at his patterns it seemed that Larson would end up merging with Andres, at least to Isabeau with the lack of heir and marriage situation. It all seemed like a peaceful end to his seemingly peaceful life, but why become only now so involved in foreign affairs?
Isabeau turned out the gardens into the halls that led into the mansion. The scuff of her flats against the brick walls filled the emptiness with noise. As she continued on she noticed the lack of servants walking around and, knowing Sunday dinner preparations must have begun, went to her room to get ready for the arrival of their guests.
When she’d finally arrived and put her hand on the door handle, another hand set down atop of Isabeaus. Isabeau turned, surprised to see the son of the Lord of Andres looking down at her with a benevolent smile. She had tried not to seem too surprised but the smirk on his face and the way she had to readjust her wide eyes proved that she hadn’t done the best job on the spot.
“Good Evening My Lady,” he said, gently wrapping his hand around Isabeaus and bending down to kiss it, “it’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance on this fine Sunday.” He looked up at her from his bow, eyes peering through the shadow his fallen curls casted on his face.
“Good Evening,” Isabeau responded, gathering in a breath, “I apologize for my state of dress, I was not expecting your arrival so soon.”
He quickly shook his head, tilting it to the side to peer even more inquisitively at Isabeaus front, “But it is I who should apologize for my abruptness, I startled you, no?”
It took all of Isabeaus strength not to put up a cold glare at him, she didn’t like surprises, “It is fine, do not fret upon me,” Isabeau exhaled forcing the corners of her lips to curve upwards, “but I am afraid I must go and get ready for the dinner..” She trailed off looking expectantly at her hand that was still in his grasp.
“Ah,” He exclaimed, letting her hand fall back on the doorknob, “farewell then..” He began to walk away but before Isabeau could fully open the door he turned back, “And… do call me Lord William.”
Before Isabeau could respond he turned, moving down the corridor and towards the main hall. She didn’t trust me, which was to say the very least. She opened her door and saw a servant sitting at her dresser waiting for her, Isabeau apologized for the wait and let the servant dress, jewel, and primp her.
She had changed into a deep velvety red evening gown with gold accents. She was also adorned with golden jewelry that also had been woven into her braided back bun. Charcoal dust on her lids and plum on her lips accentuated the intimidating colors. She found it odd, her father often ordered for her to be dressed in baby blues and natural looks with straight hair. Now she looked more of substance then she ever had, redefining her icy glare of indifference to one that seemed to hold more anger.
Isabeau thanked the servant and made her way to the dining room, her thoughts still caught on the chosen attire. Knowing her father these changes were most likely a means to advertise her to the Lord, political alliances were crucial in these trying times.
Nonetheless she carried on, walking into the dining area. Entering through an archway, the ceiling was high and a lit gold plated chandelier hung above a long oak table that spanned across the room. At the head of the table sat her father, at the other head sat the Lord of Andres; next to him his wife and son. Isabeau felt awkward, her presence had disrupted the conversation that had been going on before she’d arrived.
She made her way over to her father and took a seat in the chair next to him, passing a glance across the table at their guests. The other family had already taken back to discussing whatever they had been with her father before she came in, but she accidentally locked eyes with the Lord. He looked like an older version of Lord William, wrinkles forever furrowed his brows and grey streaks throughout his shoulder length curls. Isabeau felt uncomfortable under his stare, under what felt like an analysis. Her father coughed, grabbing her attention so that she turned her head away from the Lord. Her father looked at her with a fond smile then turned to the Lord, offering him the same.
“It ought to be time that we finally get down to the talk of business,” her father said as he straightened up against the sturdy oak on his back, “now that everyone is accounted for.” He peered over in Isabeaus' direction.
She couldn’t tell if it was just her but she felt eyes on her back, like everyone around her knew something she didn’t; something she had not been allowed to know. Biting back her anger, Isabeau cast a curious glance at her father. Instead it was the Lord of Andres who spoke up.
“Well I find it quite troublesome that you haven’t told Isabeau of our expected journey yet...” He sighed at the last word.
“What ‘journey’?” Isabeau asked, feigning confusion.
He jokingly raised his eyebrows at her response, “Well, we’re leaving for the castle tonight since the king further urged a speedy arrival.”
“How could I forget, I just didn’t expect us to depart so soon,” Isabeau cocked her head as if she were curious as she picked up her glass and took a sip of water.
“For safety measures,” Her father interrupted the silence, “we’ll be making our way with the Lord and his family.”
Isabeau nodded, looking blankly at the goblet in front of her; she was tired.
The son-William spoke next leaning towards Isabeau, “What a great opportunity to bond, over bumpy paths and a carriage that, halfway through our trip, will end up smelling of horse excrement.” Laughs were shared over his comment, Isabeau even gave him a piteous faux chuckle. After that they carried on with the meal, relying on the gossip of the Lady of Andres and the wittiness of William. When the meal ended and they were all dismissed Isabeau was exhausted and more ready than anything to just lie in a room alone, but William caught up with her as she made her way down the halls to her quarters.
“Ah, Lady Isabeau, please wait!” William barley got the words out, jogging to catch up with Isabeau who was, definitely not on purpose, walking at a fairly quick pace. He was panting a little once he caught up.
“Wow, my Lady you can really get around in those heels,” he inhaled deeply and chuckled as he exhaled, “I’m quite impressed.”
“Thank you but I’d much rather be alone right now,” She tried to put on a small smile to make her words seem nicer, but she couldn’t. William, however, didn’t look too taken aback.
“I apologize if my… eagerness offended you,” He looked at a loss, scrambling for the right words, “I just wanted to see if you were well, I know how it is to be left out of important matters like that, especially for someone in your position.”
Isabeau was grateful for his consideration but making friends was not exactly her ideal outlook for the rest of her life; she just wanted to get married and live her life in the shell of her body. She may forever be an outsider to herself but outsiders don’t ever have to feel the pain she’s felt.
“I’m… well,” She contemplated on what words would drive him off the quickest without seeming rude, “nothing to do now but pack, which I must really get to considering the few hours I have.” William accepted that with a nod.
“Well then, uh, goodnight my Lady,” William gave her a witty bow before departing in the other direction, leaving Isabeau alone in the dim, daytime deprived hallway.
After she packed her things they departed, stuck in a carriage for the next 2 days with the ever talkative William would wear her out before she’d ever arrive at the castle. A little part of her felt excited for something different, a change of pace, scenery, gossip to indulge in that held a little substance. The rest over her shut that down, containing and containing as she’d been taught. She wouldn’t be rewired and a little trip wouldn’t change that or give her any more value. Isabeau watched the scenery pass the carriage window, clearing her mind of anything and everything.
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