iv.

Mid January, 1881,

"OH PLEASE, DARLING," LAURENTINE BONFAMILLE SPOKE, frowning her ruby red lips playfully as she cast a glance at Genevieve Garnier, wrapping her delicate arm around the girl's as the two opera singers waltzed down a backstage hallway at the Roses Bleues opera house after having performed a brilliant duet together.

"You know I am happy to join any party you host!" Laur gushed, "You are the most terrific hostess in Paris, I would drop by even if you hadn't invited me."

Genevieve Garnier, a twenty six year old opera performer with green eyes and an olive complexion complimenting her sleek ginger hair, was a renowned Contralto famous for her rare opera voice in all of France. She had southern beauty in her that was subtler than the immediate impacting sharp northern beauty that Laur possessed. Garnier was a stark contrast too, to Laurentine's own mezzo-soprano, and while in story productions Laur winded up with lead roles, it was Genevieve Garnier who often revived the audiences in the later acts with her booming Contralto.

Laur had known Genevieve since she was twenty, for the latter had arrived to work at the Roses Bleues opera house a whole year after Laurentine had joined. For the past four years, the performers had worked side by side, their quick fame making ripples in the entertainment scene of Paris.

"Oh, I hope you keep that thought!" Genevieve uttered, hanging onto Laurentine's arm as the two ladies ushered close together.

"You know you are always welcome," The girl claimed, "It's just that tonight is essential. I've talked about a certain gentleman visiting me from Marseille, haven't I?"

Laur gasped then, halting in her steps as excitement flushed on her face, casting a pink hue on her fair skin and making her blue eyes glitter. She grabbed onto Genevieve's elbows.

"Oh, Mon Dieu," She spoke, "Is he coming?"

The other girl blushed, her olive expression reddening as Laurentine uttered an excited laugh.

"Oh my goodness, mon chéri," Laur spun to look ahead then, feigning a distant expression. "You are such a dark horse!"

"Forgive me, mon ami," Genevieve grappled with her words. "I wanted to be sure he was coming before telling you. You know he hasn't been in Paris since the opera house's charity auction months ago. The first time I saw him and he bought a dinner with me for charity is truly the only memory I have of him. We've been writing back and forth, as I've told you before, but nothing about him coming to Paris was concrete. Until now, that is."

Laurentine let go of her feigned distance and managed an excited laugh, nudging her friend's elbow.

"I am happy for you beyond words," She exclaimed, "I cannot wait to meet him tonight, let us also see who ensnared our Genevieve so, he better be a true hero."

"Darling," The green eyed girl mused, "If he was coming alone tonight to my house, I would've introduced you to him on any other night you wish, just not this one. What exactly do they say about third wheels?"

Laur gasped mockingly. "How utterly scandalous!"

Both girls laughed, before Genevieve composed herself, smiling from ear to ear.

"He is coming with a friend, so I need you there with me tonight to help keep the friend company," The girl spoke, "Apparently they are in Paris for a business endeavor, and his friend is an astoundingly wealthy business man in Marseille. Perhaps you shall find something to pin your heart down tonight as well?"

Laur narrowed her eyes playfully. "I think I shall pin my heart down for a humble man, astoundingly wealthy does not quite have a ring to it."

Genevieve raised a brow at her. "And who said that both those qualities cannot co-exist?"

Laurentine laughed. "Why, are the gentlemen of Marseille a different breed than those in Paris?"

"Perhaps," Genevieve uttered slyly.

"Anyway," She shook her head, "Tell me about what you have going on in that department lately. You call me a dark horse yet you don't share anything of yours! Now, is that the way?"

Laurentine frowned playfully. "Darling, you know I have nothing going on."

"Do not be so modest," Genevieve Garnier let out, "You act as though you did not receive all the gentlemen in Paris in your drawing room on Christmas Day! A little birdie told me of complains from gentlemen who called upon you on New Year's eve yet you were nowhere to be found!"

Laur laughed, dropping her gaze to the ground briefly as they walked—nay, strolled.

"I took a day out with my sister, Berlioz and Colette," The girl mused, "We had a picnic, visited museums and art displays—things of that sort. You know Colette Blanc, do you not? She's my darling friend from my orphanage days."

"Oh, yes," Genevieve waved a hand, as if to dispel the underlying gloom in her friend's tone.

"It doesn't do well to carry friends from tragic days, Laurentine, they serve as a reminder on the worst of days. But I believe you are sensible to already know that darling."

Laur blinked at that observation. Colette Blanc did in fact remind her of everything that had happened, but the girl also reminded her of everything the two of them had gotten through together. Colette reminded Laur of the strength that they had had, she reminded Laur what everything had been for. Genevieve Garnier knew nothing of what had happened in any of the orphanages Laurentine had been in, let alone the last one. The ginger haired opera singer had heard Laur mention the word orphanage when talking of her childhood once, and had assumed the feat to be automatically tragic. It was, but only on assumption on the girl's part.

Laur didn't respond to Genevieve's statement, and in turn the girl switched topics again.

"What of Charles Barbier?" The ginger haired opera singer prodded, a tease in her tone. "Is he still bothering you?"

"The man was sitting right up front today, he always has his eyes fixed on you. One acknowledgement from you must make his entire day."

Laurentine shrugged. "Charles isn't.. as amiable as I would like him to be. He's often rude. How can a man be interested in a woman and still be rude to her?"

"Darling, that is a whole genre of romance," Genevieve winked, "Do not tell me you haven't read Jane Austen?"

Laur laughed then, shaking her head. She had never been much of a reader, but courtesy of Adelaide Bonfamille, she knew of most authors and what each title of theirs entailed. For the younger Bonfamille girl was the bookworm among the two sisters, and as luck would have it, she liked to talk. Often her younger sister's knowledge from books had let Laur hold up conversations with gentlemen which they had left feeling confident that Laurentine Bonfamille's knowledge was her own. Perhaps that was a great deception on Laur's part, but she had always held a certain intelligence of her own. Laurentine formed her own opinions and hypotheses upon the information that Adelaide would share from her books. So the eldest Bonfamille girl was never parroting what she had heard, instead, she referred to what she had heard and topped it off with thoughts of her own.

"Charles Barbier," Laur began then, narrowing her eyes sternly at her companion. "Is an entirely rude man and one of these days I will be compelled to let him know just that, so that he doesn't approach me ever again."

It was then that the girls arrived in the main hall backstage and the tall and slender form of Madeleine Laurent—a thirty year old soprano with a dark hair pinned up in a sleek do and heavily made up eyes flashing against a red gown with excessive white frills—walked over to Laur, cradling a restless ragdoll kitten in her thin arms.

"Oh, darling Berlioz!" Laurentine quickly took hold of her kitten from Madeleine's arms, after separating from Genevieve, pressing kisses into the purring animal's fur.

"He just cannot bear to be separated from you, Laur," Madeleine folded her arms across her chest. "You should have him work on his attachment issues, he couldn't be still for a single second during that twenty minute performance!"

"Oh, nonsense!" Laur narrowed her eyes, rocking Berlioz against her chest as he relaxed in her warmth. "He's my darling kitten, he is supposed to miss me. Are you not, my love?"

"Oh, he is," Genevieve leaned in to stroke Berlioz's fur, "He is supposed to miss his mama."

"You are bringing him to my house tonight," The girl eyed Laurentine sternly. "I shall have Berlioz's favorite food all ready, besides we do need a Parisian gentleman to complete the gathering, do we not?"

Laurentine smiled, rocking the kitten lovingly. "Of course we do."

The girls were all interrupted then, as backstage attendees all approached to deliver their congratulations on the successful performance. The directors of the performance approached with more intricate praises, audibly admiring how Laur had hit her notes and the stark definition that Genevieve's Contralto had added to the duet ensemble.

"Magnifique!" One of the male directors applauded, "Stunning work, mademoiselles."

After responding to their praises, thank you's being kissed into the perfumed air, the ladies—Laurentine and Genevieve—both walked outside to the back exit, separating from each other with the former promising to arrive early at the dinner party and the latter taking one last kiss from Berlioz as a confirmation.

Amongst the ladies as they exchanged these trivial confirmations, gathered a group of waiting gentlemen dressed in polished suits who had only just exited themselves from the audience at the opera house, all their voices meshing into one continuous ruffle of conversation as they inquired after both Genevieve and Laurentine. Laur turned to offer each men who uttered her name a cordial smile, murmuring more thank you's in her thick soft voice as they continually praised her. She turned on her feet to wave a final wave to Genevieve Garnier, who was already being helped into her carriage at the arm of one of her gentleman fans.

The ginger haired opera performer blew Laur a kiss as the Bonfamille singer turned and hurried towards her own waiting carriage. A few gentlemen followed her swiftly, their polished black shoes sliding swiftly against the snow covered streetside as they navigated themselves, one gentleman swifter than the others as he offered Laur his elbow.

Laurentine took it, smiling at the gentleman as he grinned under her attention. She turned her eyes to Berlioz, whom she held against her chest with her other hand.

She approached her carriage and stepped into it, leaning on the arm of her gentleman admirer as he helped her.

"Merci, monsieur," Laurentine smiled at the man when she was settled inside the carriage.

The man took off his top hat with urgency, holding onto the carriage as though he was trying to hold it for a while longer. But he could only grin and grapple at a few words to say before the carriage lurched forwards and Laurentine and Berlioz were on their way to the Bonfamille manor to prepare and get ready for the dinner party at Genevieve Garnier's in a few hours.

──── ౨ৎ ────

Manon tightened the strings of Laurentine's corset, as the girl rested her hand on her stomach, making sure the corset had been tightened enough as she simultaneously paid attention to what her sister was saying. The eldest Bonfamille girl's bedroom in her mansion was full of the scent of fresh roses emanating from the bouquet she had bought herself on her way home, accompanied by the bouquets already present in her room which had been sent over as pleasantries with cards attached. Laur loved receiving flowers, and though she seemed to be getting sent bouquets everyday, she couldn't get enough of them. Stopping by at the florist's had been only a matter of pleasure, instead of the necessity of getting herself something she didn't have. 

Her one annoying dilemma in life was the inability to decipher which single flower she loved the best. Ladies had one flower they loved the most, Laurentine had been told that often enough. Even her peers at the opera house had favorites. Genevieve Garnier loved snowdrops, and that was what she told to her every suitor or gentleman fan. Madeleine Laurent too had a favorite, the woman loved hydrangeas of every kind. Colette Blanc, Laur's childhood best friend, was fond of tulips and Adelaide Bonfamille, Laur's rather radical younger sister loved frangipanis. 

Laurentine, however, had never been able to pick. Every flower brightened her from the inside, she couldn't pick between their vibrant colors and their sweet scents. She seemed to have decided very young that every flower was her favorite in their own differentiating ways. She liked one because it was too pretty, she liked the other because it smelled divine, she liked a third because it had both. Laur was never able to have a single favorite. 

"So we'd like to purchase it," Adelaide spoke, intertwining her fingers together at the base of her stomach as she looked at her elder sister, somewhat nervously. 

The girl had been practicing her scales and arpeggios on Laur's golden polished pianoforte, and had finished rather hastily in order to broach the subject with her elder sister. And now she had abandoned the piano and was standing in the center of the room, talking whilst Laur was dressed with the help of Manon behind her beautiful changing screen.

"Darling—" Laurentine began before she was cut off. 

"I promise sister, it's a good purchase," The girl uttered, "The owner is an old woman and she's happy to sell the shop to us. It's on street 74 rue de la Boétie. Her price is slightly unreasonable, but using my own saved up funds and Colette's assistance of course, we can easily buy it. I have such a good feeling about this. It's a very spacious shop, with such a grand view of the neighborhood." 

"Darling, wait," Laur let out then, appearing from behind the screen in her chemise and corset and the bustle tied at her waist over which her gown would be draped. Her golden hair was already heated with tongs and was held up in foam rollers and pins. 

Manon headed over to the wardrobe to pull out the girl's gown for the dinner party night at Genevieve Garnier's, briefly stopping by Berlioz's cushioned chair where the kitten lay resting. She gently stroked his fur, before hurrying over on to the wardrobe. 

"I don't understand how you've become so interested in this," Laurentine tilted her head slightly, her shimmering blue eyes observing her sister. 

In stark contrast to the looks of her elder sister, Adelaide Bonfamille sported brown eyes and light brown hair. The girl was chubby, her beautiful skin the same shade as her elder sister's, but dotted with freckles over her nose and around it like glitter, and her round face and thick wrists bringing about an endearing effect to the girl's presence. Often, looking at her sister, Laur would forget every and any trouble that she had momentarily, overwhelmed with the intense urge to hug her. 

"Were you not saving up your allowance for bigger things?" Laur quoted her sister's previously spoken words. "You wanted to try your hand at opera this year too, darling. Your scales are exceptional and you've been practicing so much. Colette is my friend, but I do not want you to tie yourself into something you do not want to do." 

For a brief moment, Laurentine felt like a fraud. She had worked herself up from the ground to afford a better life for herself and her sister, making sure to give her an allowance and paying for her schooling, as well as setting up a separate trust fund for her to aid her in future endeavors. Adelaide had spoken of many things, of running off to join a travelling circus, of joining a woman's society in England that was working towards getting women a right to vote, of opening an art gallery of her own where she would display her own art and that of other unrecognized artists. The girl had such ideas and dreams, but never once had they involved buying a shop in Paris and opening a boutique with Colette Blanc. 

"If it is about Colette falling short, I will add the rest of the sum," Laurentine proceeded, "But darling you do not have to—"

"But this could be one of those bigger things!" Adelaide let out, desperate, "Sister, Colette will do her boutique stuff and I'll take one half of the shop to do other things. I'm thinking of doing an art gallery! I want to display some of my paintings, and the ones that I did of you too! and I can take commissions to make more for the boutique guests who request them! Perhaps people would request paintings of themselves in their new gowns that they purchase, in the style that I have done your portraits in. I could have them sit for me. We'll make the shop so beautiful and a relaxing place. And then if things go well I will separate, give Colette the entire shop and rent out a different place for a full gallery setting, or maybe I'll just venture onto something else entirely with the sum that I will have earned." 

Laurentine bit the inside of her cheek, thinking of her sister's words as she considered them. Adelaide wasn't a careless person, regardless of being twenty years of age, she wasn't as spontaneous or restless as even Laur had been at that age. In fact, Adelaide Bonfamille was the most sensible—though radically outrageous in some old fashioned older women's eyes—young girl in all of Paris. At an age where she should be off galivanting with suitors in parks and being wooed on restaurant dates, the girl spend her time devouring books even though she had finished her schooling, and visiting book signings all over the city and gushing about the authors she met and the words they wrote. 

"Or maybe," Adelaide spoke, her eyes fluttering briefly to the ground before she met her elder sister's eyes nervously. "I could leave for England, to join that society I tell you often about. I would have enough to support myself in England. By that time they will be a bigger group than they are now." 

"What about opera, darling?" Laur couldn't help but ask. When had she exactly started envisioning her sister on that stage so much, and why did the talk of her leaving for England without even mentioning the opera scene in Paris hurt her so much? 

Adelaide's eyes dropped slightly to the ground as she prodded the carpet with the tip of her toe before looking up at Laurentine again. 

"I don't see myself doing it at present, maybe in the future," The girl uttered, "After England perhaps." 

Laurentine Bonfamille exhaled, her eyes briefly meeting Manon's, as the maid stood ready at a side, holding the gorgeous blush coloured and embellished gown Laur was to Genevieve Garnier's. 

Then the girl turned back to look at her sister. "Alright, ma chéri. If you want to use your savings this way first, then I won't stop you. Just, do your best darling, and do not think for a second that if things don't go as you planned, I won't be here for you. I will always be here for you. Colette is my friend and she's sure skeptical about asking for my help for most things. But with you darling, I'm forcing my help into spoonfuls for you, even if you cry against it. Tell me you understand that." 

Adelaide's brown eyes brightened then, and the girl ushered over to embrace Laurentine, burying her face against her sister. 

"Thank you!" She exclaimed, and Laur couldn't help but embrace her tighter. 

──── ౨ৎ ────

All dressed and ready for the dinner party, Laurentine Bonfamille was seated in her carriage on her way through the sparkling streets of Paris, her hand stroking her kitten's fur as Berlioz purred in comfort. The night was dark, but the lights of Paris burned brighter in comparison. There had been a sprinkling of rain whilst she had been getting ready at her mansion, but it had stopped now. As a result of the shower though, the streets glittered with the wetness on spaces where the snow was sparser. The lamplights standing tall and lining the street made everything glow in dull yellow warmth. 

It was almost seven thirty, and Laur intended to be at Genevieve Garnier's house by eight. The journey from her mansion to the girl's estate was a fifteen minute carriage ride, but instead of the prospect of arriving earlier than eight, Laurentine's mind was plagued by a certain curiosity and a pondering disturbance. 

Adelaide's decision to take on her first big project had left her elder sister's mind exhausted with a worry and a concern she couldn't measure. There was a certain restlessness in attending where her formal attendance was expected when something else weighed on her mind to the point of distraction. In such cases, Laur resorted to treating herself to any cure available first, and then attend where she had been summoned to. After Colette's talk about Marseille being raided by real estate men and business men buying off lands under common people in bulk and forcing evacuation and homelessness upon them, had left Laur with a certain dread of the future, even though her own case and position in life was secure. 

But now that her own sister was stepping out of the security Laurentine was providing for her? What would Laur do if the fate that befell Colette in Marseille fell upon her Adelaide? Laurentine would pick her sister back up, she knew that, but what of the scars that her sister gained in the process? How could Laur erase them when she hadn't been able to do anything for the scars on her own body from her orphanage days? 

Truth be told, Laurentine held a certain distaste for the state of the economy in Paris. She held discomfort upon the fact that her sister wanted to do a commercial endeavor. Perhaps the prestige and fame that Laur had so swiftly obtained had gotten to her own head, but there was a confusion inside her when she thought of her sister having to fold herself under her customers' wishes—of her having to work herself raw to paint people for money. It was utterly ridiculous, for Laurentine acquired services from regular working people in her life, did she not? Then why did the thought of her own sister doing a hard working job bother her so?

She didn't realize it until she had tapped the roof of the carriage and asked the driver to change routes and take her to a brief stop. 

Street 74 rue de la Boétie was a twenty minute ride away. Laur spotted the street when the carriage entered it, stopping right in front of the exact address. 

It was indeed a precious location. The shop that both Adelaide and Colette had their keen eye on was easy to spot, a large glass windowed space perched quaintly in the center, a darkened building surrounded by eating establishments and other businesses—one of them looking as an office building under construction. The workmen were still at work on the site, while the restaurants blared light and conversation. Their was distance between the restaurants at the left and the empty darkened shop, just as there was distance between the construction site on the right and the shop itself. The distance was such so that the boister of the restaurants did not reflect even a little on the shop space, and the construction site too washed off none if its chaos upon the empty shop.

Laurentine Bonfamille was now standing in front of the street, in front of the empty shop as she held Berlioz to her chest and gently stroked his soft fur, her mind focused in thought as her glittering eyes scrutinized the shop front. It looked as empty as it was darkened. There was no shop name, as the boards bearing it's name had been removed. But from the light of the moon and the yellow reflections offered from the street lamp lights, Laur had enough insight being offered through the glass that the shop space had used to be an old dancing studio.

It was artistic, she suddenly mused then, for Adelaide and Colette to use an old dancing studio as a boutique with a painting gallery.

As her carriage waited patiently for her, Laurentine filled her sight with her younger sister and best friend's future business endeavor, imagining the shop—hopefully—filled to the brim one day with bright exclamations and praises being passed from in between lipsticked lips and perfumed compliments in the air.

"Mademoiselle," An unfamiliar hard baritone filled Laurentine's senses then, distracting her from the vibrant picture in her head.

Laur turned her head to her right, holding her kitten securely against her chest.

Her glittering blue eyes met the darkened figure of a man, a distance away. He stepped closer into the light being offered from the fire-lit lamplight, and Laurentine's vision was aflush with the sight of him.

The first thing she noticed was how tall he was, his broad physique clad in a polished black suit with the light from the street lamp casting shadows across his face as he removed his top hat to reveal messy dark hair attractively placed. His eyes were sharp, dark like his hair as front bits of his locks fell into them. His skin was fair, and his sharp stubble clad jaw cut the light into two pieces the way it reflected on his neck.

"Do you need assistance with anything?" He uttered then, his baritone sending shivers down her back. "I sincerely hope you aren't lost."

He looked like a dark character straight from one of Adelaide Bonfamille's books. A villain in disguise. Perhaps it was the street and the positioning of herself and him, that made the sight of him seem unreal. Or perhaps it was the fact that Laur shouldn't exactly have lingered too long at this detour and had headed straight to Genevieve's manor.

Still, the distinct sight of this handsome stranger stilled her.

"I'm not, monsieur," Laurentine spoke then, keeping her tone gentle as she pressed a kiss into Berlioz's fur.

"I just needed some air," She finished, before pivoting to turn towards the waiting carriage as her gown flared around her legs.

"Come darling, we must be off," She spoke to Berlioz, loud enough in this subtle silence for the stranger to hear.

As she walked over to her carriage, the man approached.

"I beg your pardon," He let out then, his hard voice low, before Laur could step into her carriage.

Her glittering blue irises met the man's, now that he was so close to her. His eyes were hazel, and in this semi-darkness, they seemed to glow in hers. Something passed through his gaze and it penetrated into her senses, shocking her slightly. She had met handsome men before, but have any of those gentlemen's eyes had been this.. startling?

"I believe you dropped something, mademoiselle," He spoke then, a surprised shock passing through his own eyes that made his voice drop to a half whisper.

Laur looked at the object he was offering up in his hand, it was her blush colored silk handkerchief, embossed with her initials in the corner. Laurentine had dozens of them at the mansion, for she kept losing them like it was nothing.

"Merci," She managed, taking her 'kerchief with her gloved hand as Berlioz purred in objection at being deprived of the grip from one of her hands.

"Shush darling," Laurentine murmured softly, bringing her hand back to hold him. "It's alright, my love."

Then she offered the gentleman a smile, before turning to step back into her carriage.