AuldAcquaintance

From IMiA

The Duke gently places his arm around Patrice's shoulder. He looks to Florimel and the Frewins with a smile. "Your Highness, Lady Frewin, Phoebe, please forgive me, but I am afraid I must spirit Lady Patrice away and monopolize her attentions myself. I hope you will forgive me as I hope to have the honour of speaking with you again this evening."

Florimel smiles. "Until then, your grace. dearest Patrice. you may both rest easy with the knowledge that i will strive to keep these ladies entertained."

Patrice returns her smile. "Thank you, Your Highness."

Both the Frewin ladies drop brief curtseys as the Duke and Lady Patrice move on, but only Phoebe's is accompanied by a mischievious smile.

Under his arm, the Duke can feel that Patrice is trembling slightly as they move away, but she is smiling determinedly at everyone who passes by, even if her eyes are suspiciously bright.

When they have achieved some small measure of privacy, Patrice turns to the Duke and says quietly, "Thank you. That was very kind." She touches the fingertips of her free hand to her throat, and continues, "I thought this would be easier than it's proven to be. Carnival is always a hard season. But I'm glad I'm here and I'm glad you're here, your grace."

Karm smiles. "It is I who should thank you. Tis not often that I am seen with so lovely a lady on my arm, my dear." The Duke looks Patrice in the eyes. "And please do me the kindness of foregoing the formalities. We should have no need of titles between us. Indulge an old man who loves you and call him by name."

"Very well ... Hereward," Patrice rewards the Duke with a genuine smile. "And you must call me Patrice. You know, I should have come back to the city years ago. It's been too long. I think this is the first time I've seen you in almost three hundred years other than at a wedding or a funeral. And there have been too many of the latter and not enough of the former. How is your grandson?"

"Armars is well. Even at his age, he loves to read. His head is full of dreams of adventure."

"I shall have to see if I can't find some of the old storybooks Phil and I shared when we were young. I remember one book about pirates. Phil and I chased pirates around the walkways of the ballroom for weeks. They were the decks of our ship, and we drubbed any pirate who dared to invade." Patrice's face lights up with a grin at the memory.

Hereward chuckles.

"Once we managed to throw a line across from one side of the ballroom to the other and make a tightrope of it. I promise I won't tell Armars, though, because I told my niece Abilene and she decided to duplicate the feat. I haven't heard the end of that from Paulus, either. I'll find Armars an adventure story that will keep him safely ground-bound."

The duke smiles.

Patrice adds, after a moment, "I should commission a storybook for him. I know a number of artists who would be glad of the work, and I'm sure I can find someone to write a rousing tale he'd love. What do you think?"

"I think you a very kind, my dear. I am sure the lad would be mightily moved by such a gift. Naturally, I would expect you to present it yourself. The lad should know the lovely lady he owes his thanks."

"It would be my pleasure," Patrice replies.

Hereward adds a mischevious grin to his smile and adds, "Though it is probably for the best if the writer is not young Oisenmouth. A talented writer he may be, but the lad is only five after all."

"Goodness, no," Patrice agrees with a sparkle in her eyes. "Armars can wait until he's older for that kind of education. Lord Helios and Lord Risk run a little wilder than what I'm thinking of. It's awfully interesting that Oisenmouth and his friend Lord Helios have returned at the same time. I wonder whether there's a sequel to Two Noblemen afoot?"

The duke chuckles. "I don't think your good-sister has enough alcohol on hand for that to be the case."

"Are we sure that anyone would have advised her?" Patrice replies, and she's only half-kidding. But she continues, "I was actually wondering if we were being used for research. But the rewards of this party hardly merit a Risk, so I think we're all safe from appearing under use-names."

"That is some comfort," the duke agrees. "I suspect there are other parties that would provide much more inspiration."

Patrice's eyes roam the room for a moment, looking for likely suspects, but if she sees any future hosts whose parties are likely to be lampooned in the adventures of Risk and Helios, she chooses not to mention them.

The duke smiles again. "What are your plans for the remainder of Carnival? I expect your good-sister has recruited you to help with her party in Southside and i expect you will be attending the Ball at the palace. What other plans have you?"

"There's talk of an expedition to the Circus Extremus, and a few parties, but not much else," Patrice replies.

"But chasing after my good-sister when she's on a tear organizing one of her events can keep me quite busy. I'm paying close attention to the resources she's calling on to do it, too--a little project of mine will be coming to fruition in the weeks after Carnival. I'm opening an art gallery."

The duke smiles. "I trust you will invite me to the opening and let me know if there is any way in which I might be of service."

"I will certainly do that, yo--Hereward," Patrice says, catching herself.

The duke smiles again and asks, "Will you display any of your own work or do you still prefer to keep that private?"

"I think I should remain a patron only at this point," Patrice replies seriously. "I don't want it to be taken as a vanity project. I mean, I suppose all such projects by someone in our walk of life are on some level, but for some of the artists it's a matter of food on the table. And for some of them it's artistic integrity, which is more important than food. You know, overthrowing the artistic establishment and all that."

A mischievous smile lifts the corners of her mouth. "Not that I would have any sympathy for that sort of thing ... but in any case, I want the gallery to stand on the merits of the artists whose work I'm presenting, and not my own. Besides, my paintings can't hold a candle to the ones I want to display."

"I think you do not do yourself proper credit, my dear," the duke says, "but I admire your modesty and respect your decision. i shall quite enjoy your gallery, I am certain."

"Thank you. I shall endeavor to make it so."

Patrice changes the subject. "And how are you planning to spend Carnival, Hereward? Do you and Edith have any plans? I was surprised not to see her here tonight."

"I will be attending the usual functions of course," he replies. 'Bayle's party. Feldane's. Chantris'. The Ball at the palace. I hope I will see you at all of those.' He smiles again. "I believe Edith has some small function planned. Perhaps I could convince you to attend?"

"Of course. It would be my pleasure. May I venture to hope it will be a less, ah, potentially exciting function than my good-sister's?" Patrice asks, a hint of a mischievous smile returning. Her eyes flicker from Prince Eric holding court in one corner of the room and Prince Bleys holding court in another.

The duke smiles. "Oh yes, it should be a much smaller function."

"I don't think Edith gets the sort of pleasure my good-sister does from being outrageous, so I would expect her party to be more conventional." Patrice's fond tone softens what might otherwise be a rebuke to Juliana, making it sound more like an eccentricity to be indulged rather than a fault.

"Although these large outrageous parties do have a benefit. We get to meet new people, such as Miss Frewin and her mother." Patrice leaves that invitation to a topic hanging to see whether the Duke takes it up.

The duke nods. "The young Miss Frewin shows promise. she reminds me somewhat of another impetuous young lady I once knew."

The slightest touch of rose stains Patrice's cheeks. "You are very kind to say so. I hope all her promise is fulfilled happily," she murmurs quietly. After a moment, she adds, "Miss Frewin's father's family is well-bred and it shows. I think Her Grace has decided to take her on as one of her projects. This one should be a bit safer than some of her other endeavors, but I think we'll find it at least as rewarding."

"And most likely quite entertaining as well," the duke chuckles.

"Quite," Patrice agrees. "The first time I called on Miss Frewin and her mother, I was engaged in a conspiracy of silence involving piano practice and Costerlitz sheet music which had made its way out a window and into the garden. I can only imagine what will ensue with Miss Frewin let loose in the city. I don't think her mother will approve."

But Patrice does.

The duke nods. "Mothers are not always right, dear Patrice."

"Oh, no, definitely not." The exhalation behind those words could best be described as shaky, but Patrice forces firmness into her actual voice. She changes the subject, sort of. "I think Lady Frewin means to improve the family fortune with a good marriage."

The duke arches an eyebrow. "Does she intend to remarry or is she selling her daughter?"

"The daughter, certainly." Patrice's tone leaves no doubt what she thinks of that.

"For herself ... she does go to some effort to look fetching in black. Certainly a wealthy husband would suit her as genteel poverty does not--but I suspect her husband wouldn't find her very biddable. I don't think--" Patrice pauses and gathers her thoughts.

"She doesn't understand about the House. Serve it, and it will serve you. Use it ill, and it will fall into ruin. I think that's what happened to the Frewins: not enough tending their own garden, as it were." She looks at the Duke to see whether she's made herself clear.

The duke nods gravely.

"But of course I can afford to say such things. Carlisle has asked remarkably little of me. If I set my standards for husbands overly high, the only one who suffers from it is me," Patrice says with a smile that softens her harsh words about Lady Frewin.

Hereward Karm is silent for a minute or two. For a moment, his eyes dim as though clouded by a great sadness and he almost seems to shrink as though the weight of all his long years caught up with him at once.

Patrice takes both his hands in hers and stands silently with him. She is long past the first flush of her own youth; her Season was close to half a millennium ago. And of the length of her own years weighs heavily on her at this moment, who can blame her?

When she judges he is ready to speak again, she says quietly, in a voice barely above a whisper, "I am here, my lord."

Karm smiles. "Indeed and I am grateful for it. You are never far from my thoughts or my heart, dear Patrice." The duke's eyes brighten and he seems again in good spirits. "Yet, I suspect this old man has been terribly selfish and hoarded your company for himself. Shall I let you visit with the guests, dear girl?"

Patrice gives the Duke's fingers a gentle squeeze. "Yes, I shall go and do what little bit Carlisle does ask of me. But in return for relinquishing the pleasure of your company, I must require you to promise me a dance at the Carnival Ball. Shall we agree on those terms, Hereward?"

"As though I could ever refuse you anything, my dear. I shall be delighted. It will be the highlight of my evening, I am certain."

"You're too kind," Patrice says, and relinquishes his hand. She drops him a slight curtsey before she moves along, with a smile of farewell.

-- Main.GingerStampley - 11 Jan 2005