Chapter 5
Art is not always artistry

"My Lord! Franklin!" Zahara's voice carried through the halls of the Lachapelle estate. She opened the door to Franklin's study. Franklin sat at his desk, writing a letter. "My Lord, I come with wonderful news."

             A letter tightly wrapped in her hand caught Franklin's eyes. "I am quite busy, Zahara. If it could be handled later, I'd be happy with that."

            "Frankly, it can't," Zahara dropped the letter on Franklin's desk. He looked at her once more, then opened it. His eyes scanned the words on paper, but Zahara could not wait for him to read the news. "A prince! A prince is coming! To London!"

"I see . . ." Franklin read the last few words of the letter, then laid it back down on the desk. "Do you wish to introduce Fleur?"

Zahara replied as if it was the stupidest question she'd ever heard. "Of course," She said. "Though I doubt it'll work. All debutants will swarm him. Debutants who make more effort than she ever has."

"And on which grounds will you introduce our daughter? Her looks? Her elegance? Her talents?" Franklin continued to ask. "Even if we get the prince to talk to her, what will make him stay with her?"

Zahara shrugged. "I don't know, My Lord. We will make something up, I'm sure of it."

A scoff sounded from the door. Sloane had been passing by when she heard their topic, and started listening to their conversation. She walked in, a disgusted look on her face.

"Do you not understand your daughter has many benefits?" She asked as if it should've been obvious to them. "Are there more beautiful debutants? Maybe. But are there smarter debutants? I doubt it. And I'm sure the Prince, as well as any other suitor, will come to appreciate that, too. If you weren't so busy flaunting whatever beauty she may possess instead of allowing her to show her brains, maybe she would have suitors. You have no idea how your daughter thinks, and it's showing."

Both of Sloane's parents were speechless. Fleur and Carlotta were the more verbal ones. Sloane was usually the one who smiled and nodded whenever she disagreed.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Pardon denied." Sloane said. She walked away without another word. When turning the corner of the room, Sloane laid eyes on Fleur, standing next to the door. Fleur looked at her meaninglessly, and Sloane looked back. But Sloane departed in silence.

            Today's event was the first exciting one in weeks. A new wing of Somerset Hall was to open and the whole ton was invited. The entire family rode in the carriage. It was a short ride, since they lived fairly close to Somerset.

            Zahara was especially excited, because the Prince had recently arrived in London. He'd only attended one ball so far, where Fleur had no opportunity to speak with him before he was caught in Cressida's spider web.

            It turned out the Lachapelles were one of the first families to arrive. In fact, they were the first. Sloane and Cristian walked ahead, to the entrance. Franklin and Carlotta followed them. The doors hadn't been opened yet, but it couldn't have hurt to have walked the pavement towards the doors. Sloane and Fleur especially were excited to see the new art.

A statue stood in the middle of the courtyard, and since Fleur had to wait anyway, she decided to prepare herself for the inside by stopping to look at it. If the art inside was as impressive as this was, she knew she would not be delighted.

            "Isn't it exquisite?" A voice spoke up from behind her.

            "I'm afraid not. It's ghastly," The voice stepped beside her, eyes up at the statue. Fleur turned her head, her eyes widening when she saw the prince. "Oh! Your Grace, my apologies, I did not mean—"

            "Tell me more of your opinion." He interrupted. He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, which was a surprise to Fleur. No man was ever interested in her.

            She cleared her throat. "Well, to me art has to mean something. This statue conveys no emotions, and overall has zero story. It's irrelevant," She stayed silent for a couple of seconds, then continued to ramble. "That is, of course, unless you like it, Your Grace."

            "I'm not sure I do anymore," He turned his head, smiling. "You've got a good eye for art."

            "My mother once courted an artist." She joked.

            Prince Friedrich chuckled pleasingly. He joined his aunt again. "Good day, Miss Lachapelle."

            Fleur had to let that sink in after he was gone. Her second season, first (willing) conversation with a man, and it was a prince. She wasn't going to expect much, since he was around Cressida so much, and almost every girl in the ton would be more desirable. But at least he made for a good conversation partner.

              Slowly, families started to gather. The doors were opened. Fleur wasn't as excited to enter and see the art now that she'd seen the statue. However, the interior surprised her positively. The walls must've been at least 30 feet high. Not a single foot wasn't covered with art. Fleur caught a glimpse of Eloise and Penelope standing in front of a painting.

            She walked closer to them, now seeing they'd chosen quite a cheeky painting. It had numerous naked people on it. Eloise and Penelope seemed taken aback by it.

             "You've chosen quite the scenery, I must say." Fleur announced her approach. She stood beside Eloise, mirroring their stare.

             "It is quite dull, would you not agree?" Eloise did not look up from the painting.

            Penelope replied. "It is terrible familiar, yet I am sure this is the first time I have seen it."

            Fleur understood where she was coming from. It looked like one of those paintings artists made about the Greek mythology. And Fleur happened to be very interested in Greek mythology. Henri used to tell her all the bedtime stories about Zeus, and the other Greek Gods. He knew everything there was to know about it.

            Eloise disagreed. "That is because, like all of these paintings, it was done by a man who sees a woman as nothing other than a decorative object."

            Fleur supposed she could agree to that as well. The more she looked at it, the more she saw what she'd meant. She started to say. "They're like—"

            "Human vases!" Penelope finished for her. She turned around while Fleur and Eloise still watched the painting. "I think my mama is calling me." She said suddenly.

            Fleur and Eloise turned around as well. Both had the same expression on their face. Confusion. "She is busy with Miss Thompson."

            "Besides, we're having so much fun tearing down this artistry." Fleur added.

            "I will return shortly," Penelope said regardless. "Wait here." She practically ran over to her mama and Marina.

            Eloise turned back, but Fleur continued to watch them. Lady Featherington was suddenly very eager to introduce Marina to Lords. Especially the ones who clearly couldn't attract ladies on their own. Marina herself didn't seem eager at all. In fact, she seemed displeased to even be in his presence.

            "Lady Featherington suddenly has a weird fondness for Marina, wouldn't you agree?" Fleur asked Eloise, still staring at the conversation. "I can recall how much she disliked her."

            Eloise didn't turn around, but replied. "Lady Featherington has a fondness for everything she can marry off. Especially the ones she dislikes."

            "I suppose . . ." She finally teared her eyes away. Penelope didn't come back, as she'd promised. "Let's walk around, shall we?"

           Eloise accepted Fleur's arm. Together they walked around the building, viewing the pieces shallowly. "Your hair is pretty today," Fleur complimented Eloise out of nowhere. "You should wear it like this more often."

            Immediately, Eloise's pale cheeks gained colour. "Maybe I will."

            Before they could finish their round, a loud gasping was heard from the other side of the room. All the visitors sped towards the action, as well as Eloise and Fleur. There they were met with Cressida, who was laying on the ground, and prince Friedrich, crouching over her. Penelope rejoined them as they looked at the blonde on the floor.

            Freya neared Fleur and leaned into her ear. "She might seem happy now, but wait until you see her in an hour when she sees her dress is dirty from the ground." Fleur giggled at the thought. Cressida was wearing a white dress, indeed.

            Cressida got up with the help of prince Friedrich. The crowd applauded her. Fleur couldn't understand why, but she joined in. Cressida had checked off one of the major boxes on the list of the art of the swoon and she had been happy with a single conversation.

            The next day, Fleur sat in her room. She wasn't doing anything particular when Ruth came in. She hadn't bothered to knock, and for an elderly lady, she was frantically running around.

            "Whoa! Slow down, Ruth. What's going on?" Fleur was rather worried about her behaviour. Ruth never acted out. She was always the very picture of calm.

            Ruth held up a letter in her hand, which Fleur only now saw. She nudged her to read the letter. It was from her son. The son Ruth had said was dead. It was the entire reason she'd even agreed to work in the Lachapelle home. However, he was in trouble. He was in debt with some rich gentleman, but had no money.

            Fleur nodded at Ruth. "I'll tell Louis to gather the horses. We'll go straight away."

            "No," Ruth said. "No horses. No carriage. It'll only attract attention."

            Ruth wore her most peasant–looking dress and gave Fleur another brown dress. It was too big on her. To cover up that it wasn't her own dress, she was given a shawl. That way she would also not be spotted by members of the ton.

            Ruth and Fleur snuck out of the house through the back. The only person that had seen them had been the cook. But he swore to keep his mouth shut. The walk to the poor neighbourhood was longer than Fleur had expected. She'd been there once, years ago, when she picked up Elizabeth, Ruth and Louis, but that was a carriage ride. The walk was a lot longer, for obvious reasons.

            Ruth's son (Fleur saw his name was Theo at the end of his letter) had said he was hiding in an alleyway. Ruth seemed to know exactly which one. She sped through the streets and instantly Fleur noticed that the coverups had worked. No one looked up from them.

            Ruth stopped walking in front of a young boy of around 23 sitting in an alleyway. He was trying to make himself as small as possible. He looked up at the footsteps. Ruth sunk on her feet to hug him, a happy tear rolling down her cheek. Despite Theo looking like he hadn't eaten for days and having numerous bruises all over, Ruth was happy to see him alive after all.

            Fleur crouched down on the opposite side. "Hello," She said. "My name is Fleur. You are Theo?" He nodded. Fleur smiled at him. "I've heard so much about you. Your mother missed you terribly."

            "We should get you cleaned up," Ruth told her son. "Do you have a place somewhere?"

            Theo shook his head. He sniffed. "I had one. I was kicked out."

            "Why?" Fleur asked as sympathetically as she could.

            "The place I lived belongs to a rich man," He explained. "One day I heard him talking to another man, who suggested he'd make it a bar. The next thing I know, me and my stuff are on the street."

            Fleur's voice got caught in her throat. "That's horrible."

           Theo looked out to the large street. His eyes widened. "In fact," He pointed at a man on the street. "That's the man who made the suggestion."

           Fleur followed his finger to a man. Her jaw dropped. Henri. She had wondered where Henri spent most of his time these days, and it seemed she finally had an answer. She made eye contact with Ruth. In a single glance, the women agreed not to tell Theo.

            "Do you have any place you can sleep, darling?" Ruth asked.

            "That's not why I sent the letter," Theo countered. "I owe that man money. Lots of money. I was hoping I could borrow something."

            Ruth and Fleur shared another glance. "You know what?" Fleur got up and dusted off her dress. "Let me handle it. I happen to know him."

            Fleur walked off to find Henri. She supposed Theo and Ruth would have enough to talk about without her there anyway. Henri stood against a wall, smoking. Fleur cleared her throat. "Ahem. What are you doing here?"

            Henri's head shot to the side. But where that action would usually have gone hand–in–hand with shocked eyes, Henri only smiled. "Could ask you the same thing, Sister," He said. "What is a young lady of the ton doing in a crack place such as this?"

            "As a matter of fact, I'm handling affairs that involve you," Fleur said, trying to sound intimidating. Judging from the look on her brother's face, it was not working. "I need you to tell Theo Sharpe that he no longer owes you."

            "Why?" Henri's smile grew. "Has my dear sister got the butterflies?"

            Fleur's eyes narrowed in a confused expression. "What? No. He's Ruth's son, and I wish to see Ruth happy."

            "Always off to make everyone around you happy," Henri trailed, starting to walk around Fleur. She knew this was him trying to intimidate her. And he happened to be better at it than she. "Who makes you happy?"

             Fleur sent him a glare, ready to say something back. She was distracted by the sound of a carriage stopping nearby. Fleur pushed Henri further into the alley before following him. She looked around the corner quickly to see who it was.

            Lady Featherington and Marina stepped out of the carriage. Fleur instantly retrieved her head. "Not so brave now anymore, eh?" Henri teased. Fleur only shushed him.

            The two women walked further into the neighbourhood. They stopped so close to where Fleur and Henri were standing, she thought they'd see her. But the two were so deep in conversation, they paid no mind to them. Fleur couldn't hear what they were saying, and at the moment, she'd not cared about that.

            Though she found it as odd as a flying fish, she had more important matters at the moment. She turned back to Henri. "You tell him or I will. But if I do, that means you can never set foot at home ever again." And with that she left.

And so the plot thickens . . . This whole Ruth plot isn't gonna have many consequences now, but it will in S2. Bc . . . You know . . . Theo Sharpe is a character in S2. One that has something to do with Eloise.