An old saying goes...
'Not even your shadow is called as your ally someday.'
in the twilight of thick curtains restricting any potential light from penetrating through, a flickering flame was lit in the hearth as the only sun in the entire universe filled with solely dusk that one's eyes could trace to its almost extent.
"It is abrupt to say, however, That Patricia's family was nothing more than some local tobacco landowners of Bordeaux, a class of commoners until the last two decades when the head son of the household, the proclaimed 'Ermine', mousier Pierre Patricia was erratic enough in their bloodline of Petit bourgeoisie who traditionally brooded a trajectory by proposing to own just two Manchester ships which appear non-propitious at the sight of fool nevertheless as staunch, he didn't catnap however snatch the opportunity and rest was history, the ships multiplied enormously, soon he was shipping worker's from the coasts of Benin kingdom flooding the empire with not only the endless asset counting the cheap hardworking slaves but also, the open route slave trade that got concentrated to the south and hence, a new empire forged- an empire of the southern sea- The implacable and impeccable empire of Patriccia's reached the flourishing heights even known in the history of France"
"Such notes of history are well known and mentioned by every common tongue, what would cause something this pertinent for a noblewoman like a duke's granddaughter to take such a tremendous interest in that? " The duke asked tipping his chin with his hands clustered resting on the texture of a polished round table, amusement raging on his wrinkled face and eyes crimpled with shine.
"I believe grandfather understands well and has anticipated my answer already," she stated turning her flaming hot face away from the evaporating fire, looking straight with a soggy smirk.
"And that anticipated answer shall be? "
"It is well known that grandfather and father have been trying to break a deal with Patriccia's Ermine for a longer time so that mince slave flow that has been restricted to Bordeaux mostly shall be deviated and decentralized to remaining ports for enabling an equal supply of slaves throughout all nation. nevertheless, despite the strong efforts of the monarchy and ministers, the overpowered ermine strongly disagrees with the decentralization stating that the state only wants to exploit the slaves till' their bones don't appear chalk white out of their skin. "
"Naming a person Ermine doesn't make a toad an Ermine" he commented very gloomily glancing at the place that rested in front of him with a whipping texture of royalty, however, the lady leaned over the table drawing her gloves which were up to the ends of her arms, drawing it out as she continued tilting her chin-
"But it's a shame to say that the one birthed from the blood of the Nobel aristocrats, is plunged by the opinions of a commoner. and that commoner is Ermine."
a thick dried lump of saliva slides down his throat, and everyone witnesses this cold composition of clustering skin forming new wrinkles over his forehead, but...
"However...nothing is impeccable until' one could keep closer eyes to enemy's soring liability and only liability the ermine had ever disclosed is..."
abruptly, his face draws back to skimming to this uncomplete sentence, as both granddaughter and grandfather's eyes meet in the same rhythm as he thuds his knuckles over the expensive ebony wood,
"Allin, Lady Corel must be famished."
"Sire" and he bent his head slowly towards the left shoulder, turning to run his errands as serving his master but...things are pretty easy with a subordinate footman behind.
***
'Where are you, Corell?' the Chinese silk clothed stood tapping her feet on the floor eagerly waiting for the gigantic, hatted lady while the whole hall was filled with couples smoking and giggling while having a lit Manhattan drink.
The taste that she had tasted over and over, and even standing here...she had drunk a couple of glasses to ease 'her anxiety' however more felt less
"Pattricia's pride...isn't it?" glassy eyes and large mustaches, that individual approached with satire and the thin slander of that glass-twisting within his fingers,
"And drinking all alone that seems quite depressing."
But, her eyes were lazy and close to non-annoyance-
"... And you appear as if of my friend's grandfather's age, was I supposed to say anything to compliment you? "
That his lips stitched to his tongue within his lips... An untamed spirit as he says but...am the spirit of amber... A liability?!
But... At the same time, it suffices with this tongue like a double-edged sword, sharp and also deadly!
****
"Katherine Mary Patricia is a mess! A black spot to any respectable reputation!" the duke said punching his fist, and the fire drew to dim.
"a treasured unmarried daughter belonging to the well renowned 'Patriccia'... now who could afford to lose any opportunity for collecting this wealthy blusterous mess, grandfather?" she smirks from the corner,
abruptly, the egress to the only entry into that meticulous master chamber, and Lavigne, the newly appointed butler to the duke's granddaughter set his foot balanced through the flash of bright unbearable mid-evening glares with a giant silver tray homing two plates of rich and mouthwatering blanquette de veau held within his thin but muscular claws almost that of double of his chest breath and almost at the edge of stacking into the entrance of duke's chamber yet, he did the partly impossible very carefully balancing the heavy metal through the swings of thick curtains,
however,
"Aren't you Flemme?" the head butler rushed to the young boy with a frown shadowing his professional expression, getting the hold of the metal tray and snatching it away with a very despicable side eye and he knew, his job was done here.
"Lavigne? don't you believe you're yet to be excused?"
Lady Correl commented with a tilted chin glancing at the ragging warmth within the fireplace, that his feet froze far more than any further withdrawal and drawn in puzzlement, but as trained, he stood straight without any complaints ready to take order however, the aging butler was more confused, and a smirk sat on the lips of duke with his fist rested under beneath his chin.
"Come serve your master." those gorgeous gazes drowned in utmost seriousness darted right into his withering sights that couldn't any longer contain his bafflement, almost alive the head butler, who breathlessly examined Lavigne then the lady sitting near the hearth with a calm but confirming words and her pale skin was glowing golden. he was all conflicted that it all felt like a mindless joke.
"Madame, I beg your pardon, but I can single-handedly serve the lady and his lordship."
"And I neither doubt that, but as a butler to an aristocrat, this young lad must understand his duties well and this can only be accomplished by days of practice and adequate opportunity. Nevertheless, This could be an adequate opportunity, my beloved grandfather, Duke Winifred will also have a review of my decision-making skills here." she put her right leg onto the left one with a smug, so wide that the old-fashioned butler could only look up to the duke to cry that 'this is all inappropriate!' however,
"I couldn't turn down such a rare opportunity to test my Marguerite."
The only option the butler was left with was to jump off the board and drown to death remembering those golden days of being the head butler, *sigh*
"Lavigne...please, carry on" through his teeth, Allin said with how much pain he was experiencing in each blink of the eye of saying those words,
"Mousier, Madame" the butler bowed very elegantly handing the tray onto that round table with glassy brown polish, a bridge between the Grand-père and petite-fille.
"What's the name, garçon?"
".... Lavigne---Edouard Lavigne"
without meeting the eyes of the mighty duke, the cold sweated lad placed the silver plate of the dish just in front of the jolly old man, who was having the fun of his life with the best of efforts but...he couldn't contain himself of those goosebumps of utmost risk and overwhelming feelings that a Lady has put her faith on a commoner like him or was it the other way, a game of aristocrats, perhaps?
"Oh, Lavigne? A vintner working as a butler, how riveting!"
"You are very kind, sire--" he declared with a shaken grip that the plate almost touched to dump all the form-like cream over the duke's posh clothes, that Allin's instinct kicked almost to rush to prevent that sin from happening, nevertheless, the Vioc duke supported the plate from its bottom by the touch of his delicate palm,
"Keep your eyes open, Vintner, I believe you did like to keep your head on your neck"
"I believe I do, sir," the subordinate Butler declared pinning his chin to his chest, with a disappointment lurking on his face and bending to serve another one to the lady at the rarest spot, whom he preassembly has put down, 'How was he suppose to meet that confident gaze? '
"M-Madame? "
however, on the controversy, her face was gleaming in beam, "Do serve, Lavigne "
'Wasn't she supposed to be left in the lurch?' he pondered while placing the plate perfectly on the table twisting in conflict after another.
"I can assume now why you have asked this Vintner to serve us, and I'm quite interested that I must admit."
"I'm glad you do" she node with a diplomatic smile that she was made master throughout her livelihood with her mother, her siblings, and the maids who were spanked of rules if she deemed to remain adamant, however, she, the women with the title of 'Lady' sliced settling through the cream and devouring the pastry into equal and perfect two halves.
on the other hand, the subordinate servant was all baffled and was standing still...but who was he ever to question? his senior, who was already giving him a cold shoulder? or the lady whose servant he has been appointed recently? but... neither of them ever his status matched anyone's.
'So shall I be hushed' he stated within his skull, but the unexpected lady noticed his fallen gaze and commenced turning her gleaming gaze to the opaque cold corner where Allin and her new servant stood like two Greek statues,
and she smiled looking back to the duke,
"Lavigne?"
"Y-yes my lady" he lifted his head slapdashed, and snatched it out of his thoughts.
"Lord Winifred seems to be exhausted... You will serve him for tonight, won't you, Lavigne?"
As the saying goes... 'Not even an ally one day....shall be an ally for another day, at least not for these hypocritical aristocrats'