IntroducingtheFrewinstoFlorimel

From IMiA

Before the party sits down to dinner, but after most of the guests have arrived, Patrice seeks out Miss Frewin.

Patrice is dressed with her usual severity in deep burgundy with simple accents of gold. Her outfit and jewelry seem plain next to many of the other noble ladies present, but the style suits her.

When Patrice finds the Frewins, she waits until they have concluded whatever discussion they are currently engaged in to break in. When they are free, she says, "Good evening, ladies. If you're free, I'd like to present you to a friend of mine." She smiles kindly at Phoebe. "I think you will very much enjoy meeting her."

"Thank you, Lady Patrice," says Lylias Frewin with a somewhat frigid smile. "That would be most kind."

She is dressed, once more, in the most sumptuous of mourning garments, heavy black taffeta, embroidered with eleborate flowers in black silk, ornamented by jet beads. She looks angelically lovely and frail, and desperately in need of a strong man to lean on.

Patrice, by contrast, looks like she could hold up one of the trees in the Pinegar garden. She is rudely healthy.

Phoebe's appearance has been much improved by the acquisition of a dress from M.Worth - clearly Lylias took the hint. It is a pale blue silk, simply but artfully fashioned, and highly suitable for a young lady making her come out, with the neckline verging on the modest. Her eyes are as bright as though lit from within by stars, and she looks around the room with the most eager anticipation.

"Thank you!" she says to Patrice - and it is not just an echo of her mother; Patrice senses that the gratitude is not just for the forthcoming introduction, but for Patrice's intervention in her life.

"I did not think it necessary to put Phoebe in mourning," Lylias says to Patrice. "So very gloomy for one so young ... "

"And Papa wouldn't have liked it anyway," says Phoebe decidedly. "Remember when old Lady Greenock died, and you wanted us all to go into mourning - Papa said that we shouldn't deck ourselves out as a pack of old crows - especially when she had disappointed us all so." She pauses, frowning. "Although I must say, she never disappointed =me=. I always expected her to be cross and diasgreeable whenever we went to visit, and she always was."

"Yes, well," says Lylias hastily, "the death of a great aunt and the death of a father might be held to command different degrees of respect. But, as you say, it clearly was your father's stated wish that you should not wear mourning, and we should abide by his wishes."

"Certainly I think pale blue favors you more than black would, Miss Frewin. Black would make you look decidedly over-pale. Fortunately, the fashion for daughters in Amber is not perpetual mourning, or I, too, should be wearing black, and it doesn't suit me either." Patrice shares a conspiratrial smile with Phoebe.

Phoebe smiled back, and he finger tips brushed against Patrice's as she whispered, "I'm sorry you lost your father too."

"Thank you," Patrice whispers back, and then she looks up at Phoebe's mother. "On some women, though, black is quite fetching," Patrice allows to Lady Frewin.

She adds, "Princess Florimel is the lady in green." They can see her, but she's turned toward whoever she's speaking with, who is on the far side of her from Patrice and the Frewins.

"Princess ... Florimel," says Phoebe a little weakly. "Oh .... "

"We should pay our respects, Phoebe," says her mother with a fair assumption of nonchalence. "As visitors of high rank from Begma, it will be expected. Just remember to show yourself a well-brought up young lady and I'm sure she'll be delighted with you."

"Yes, Mama," said Phoebe dutifully, but Patrice could see that she was still a little apprehensive.

"It will be fine, Miss Frewin. Her Highness is very kind to young ladies." Patrice leans in and whispers, "I promise she won't bite you."

With sparkling eyes, she leads the Frewins over toward Princess Florimel. As they approach, they can see the princess is speaking with a very distinguished silver-haired gentleman. "That's the Duke of Karm," Patrice tells them quietly. "His family is one of the oldest in Amber."

When they arrive where the Princess and the Duke are conversing, Patrice waits politely for them to break and acknowledge her.

They do not have long to wait. The Princess and the Duke smile almost in unison.

"Lady Patrice," the Duke says. "It has been far too long since last I was fortunate enough to be in your company." He smiles, takes her hand, and kisses it.

Patrice smiles warmly at him. It's too demure to be called a grin, but her delight at seeing him is evident.

"Please do introduce us to your lovely companions."

The Duke is the model older gentleman. He has the perfect and proper accent, but there is laughter in his voice and a smile in his eyes. He moves with the fluid grace of a man centuries younger than himself and his dark suit is evidence of his knowledge of fashion.

Lylias sinks into a deep and becoming curtsey. Phoebe follows suit after a tiny frozen second during which she has regarded both the Princess and the Duke with wide and candid eyes.

As the Frewins make their courtesies, Patrice does as the Duke has bid her. "Your Highness, Your Grace, this is Lady Frewin of Begma, and her daughter, Miss Phoebe Frewin. Lady Frewin, Miss Frewin, this is Her Highness, the Princess Florimel, and His Grace, the Duke of Karm."

"Your Royal Highness," murmurs Lylias, with appropriate respect as she rises. "Your Grace."

Phoebe echoes the titles a moment after her mother, peeping up at these august personages through surprisingly dark long eyelashes.

To the Duke, Patrice adds, "My brother and my good-sister met the late Lord Frewin while they were serving the Crown in Begma, and they have renewed the acquaintance since Lady Frewin has come to Amber. Miss Frewin is having her Season this year."

And to the Frewins, she says, "Karm is perhaps the oldest Duchy in Amber, but it is best known for its knightly sons, and its bards." If there's just the slightest tremble in her smile as Patrice says this, only Florimel knows her well enough to see it.

"How delightful," says Lylias. "My late husband was always so fond of music."

Phoebe, who knows rather more about her father's taste in opera dancers than her mother might suspect, takes on a slightly wooden expression upon hearing this.

It is there that Patrice concludes the introduction; Princess Florimel requires no explanation.

The Duke smiles at the ladies. He kisses each of their hands in turn. "It pleases me to meet you lovely ladies," the Duke says with a smile. "You have good friends in Patrice and her family. Perhaps I shall be so fortunate that you shall come to count me among your friends as well."

Phoebe beams at him. "I do hope so!" she says simply.

"It is most kind of your Grace to say so," says Lylias more gracefully.

The Princess smiles as well. "Dear Patrice has spoken much of you, ladies. It is good to meet you."

"And it is an honour to meet you, your Highness," returns Lylias with another, slighter curtsey of acknowledgement.

"Especially," says Phoebe, without bothering to curtsey again, "as you are quite as =spectacularly= lovely as the legends say. In fact, probably more so, because one always discounts some of the poetic stuff as exaggeration, doesn't one? But in your case it is quite =true=. Well, perhaps not all of it. I mean, it would probably be jolly inconvenient to go around with twin stars glowing in your eyes. And stars are utterly huge anyway, aren't they, so it would be rather awkward. And I've never thought it would look right to really have a pair of kissing cherries instead of lips - cherries are really quite the wrong shape. But your cheek is certainly damasked like the ripest peach and ... "

"Phoebe," says her mother repressively. "I am sure her Highness will spare a recitation of the entire anthology."

Phoebe smiles apologetically. "I am so sorry," she says. "But really meeting you ... well, it's simply heavenly."

Patrice smiles and meets Florimel's eyes, as if to say, _See?_.

The princess laughs. "I see you and I are going to have to spend time getting to know one another, Phoebe."

"Oh!" gasps Phoebe, "that would be =beyond= wonderful!"

Her mother looks somewhat apprehensive.

"Perhaps, then, His Grace and I should leave you three to further the acquaintance. It has been some years since we've seen each other, and we have a great deal to catch up on." Patrice offers the Duke a wistful smile, which brightens as she turns back to Florimel and Phoebe.

Lylias looks less than enchanted with this proposal, anlthough she rapidly conceals her chagrin behind a warm smile.

"Of course, Lady Patrice. Such old friends as you are, I am sure you will have so much to talk about ... "

Phoebe, meanwhile, is still lost in a happy state of awe at being so close to the much revered Princess.

Florimel smiles at Phoebe and Lylias. She gives Phoebe an approving look. "I see you have found Worth's. Very good. How have you found the rest of Amber thus far?"

"Very little as yet," says Phoebe a little wistfully. "Mama thought we should live quietly until we made suitable acquaintances."

"I am sure your Highness appreciates how difficult life can be for two ladies alone in a strange land," puts in Lylias swiftly. "I am anxious for my darling to have every advantage I can contrive but - alas! My means are not large. The Duchess has been so kind as to invite us this evening, and we are both so very grateful."

The last is said in a slightly admonitory tone, as though she suspects Phoebe will not be sufficiently grateful. But her daughter is nodding vigorously.

"Oh yes!" she agrees. "Although I would like to see something of the Canival - although I do =indeed= see that it would be =quite= unsuitable for Mama, being in such =deep= morning. And the Ambassador - although he's my godfather and an utter =darling= ... well, he isn't really one for fun and frolic."

"Perhaps we shall all have to arrange to go out together. It's a tradition that has gone too long by the wayside," Patrice says, and now she really does look wistful. The Duke will of course recall the Carnival frolics that his sons got up to when they were boys, before the wars, and Patrice's own part in them.

It might well be a kindness on the Duke's part to act on Lady Patrice's suggestion that they move on.

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.

-- Main.GingerStampley - 11 Jan 2005