ix.

"SO, HAVE YOU BEEN HERE OFTEN, LAUR?" MONSIEUR Édouard Arsenault asked then, as soft music floated into the serene restaurant atmosphere, courtesy of three musicians in the center of the restaurant hall, seated on their own chairs.

One of them was in the middle of his beautiful violin solo, while the other two—both with their own instruments—waited to join in.

"Not often enough," Laurentine Bonfamille spoke softly. "Considering the time I have spent living in Paris."

It was a strange statement to make, Laur knew that. It wasn't that she had grown up privileged enough that she could have had considered Le Petit Pearl as a dining option. She had grown up eating wet pelts of mush in her plate under the given label of food, in orphanages. So of course she couldn't have afforded to come here. But since she had started making her own money and had become privileged, she gotten quite a taste for luxury and extravagance-much to Adelaide's indifference, so perhaps that was why Laur had made the statement.

"I-I couldn't of course come to places like these for a big part of my life," She hastened to add. "Which of course, you understand."

She thought of Genevieve Garnier's exposé on Laur's life in front of Monsieur Edgar Laframboise and Édouard Arsenault then. She thought of how embarrassed she had been, and how she had assumed Monsieur Arsenault would have nothing to do with her.

But here she was on a dinner date with him, which felt more than magical already, and the food hadn't even come yet.

"But I feel as though I so quickly acquired quite a taste for luxury like this—especially this restaurant," She continued. "So yes, I would like to come here more often than I do at present."

"You should," Monsieur Arsenault offered then. "Though I do not want to suggest that it be with other gentlemen. In fact, I would hate it if you got that impression."

Laur giggled. "No Édouard, I did not get that impression at all."

His hazel eyes glinted intensely at her as he registered his name in her voice briefly, before forcing himself to speak his thoughts.

"Tell me about your taste for luxury," He uttered then. "I do not mean to offend, but most ladies play such a thing down too much if only to appear humble. My own mother included, even though every person in my acquaintance knows of her frequent purchases of pricey art and structures."

Laurentine managed a smile at the jest, though her heart stilled in her chest. Did he like humble ladies? Did he prefer ladies that did not in fact harbor any preference for extravagant restaurants? Mon Dieu, Laur spent her money on herself and her sister like it grew on trees. She saved, yes. She gave to charity often enough. But she indulged too, Mon Dieu, Laurentine's indulgences annoyed Adelaide on the daily, they were that excessive at times.

She took a sip of the glass of champagne he had poured for her, after he had called in a waiter again to replace the bottle of wine served to them with sparkling champagne at her request.

"Your mother sounds divine," Laur beamed then, trusting her heart to lead her words. "But I feel as though being humble is not something you should associate with how one chooses to indulge for themselves. Can a person not be both?"

His eyes were fixed in hers, and she couldn't read his dismay or disappointment-if that was at all how he was feeling towards her.

"I love to find pleasure in things money can buy me-the luxury, and perhaps that is because I was deprived of it all growing up, or for some other reason, I don't know. I merely know that I enjoy investing in myself so much, and though I do make sure to always give away some of what I can, at the end of the day I'm always picking myself up with anything beautiful I can buy."

Laurentine broke her gaze away from the gentleman's, her eyes landing briefly on the cityscape at her side.

"And I know I deserve it," She finished, looking back at Édouard with a certain confidence. "I've always known that I deserve to make myself happy whenever I can."

"That is a damn impressive stance," Monsieur Arsenault uttered then, his eyes unblinking in hers as she managed a smile as his response, grateful to not lose his good opinion.

"What is your definition of humble?" He asked then, and for a second Laur imagined he was mocking her. But in his eyes, she saw nothing of that mock.

"Understanding," She let out softly then, finding encouragement in his eyes as she continued.

It was often Adelaide with ideas that mirrored nothing of the world that Laur had grew up and worked hard in to get to where she was in life. There was someone who had once said that those who never had to work—or were never dunked head first into ice water—had ideas that ventured so far from the rational that they bordered on the imbecilic. But that wasn't Adelaide, for she had been through far worse than Laur. The girl had been too young to be torn away from both their late parents and Laur's own—though still adolescent—protection.

"The ability to understand the basic layer of heart that every human being has, and to wander—breathe, even—on that level," Laur tried to word her thoughts, speaking from what she herself believed, for once, instead of relying on Adelaide's ideas from rampaging inside her mind.

There was no doubt in Laurentine's mind that her younger sister would disapprove of this so called definition entirely.

"To understand that everyone is connected in a way somehow, they all have this founding layer—rich or poor, healthy or dying. I think everyone can commit to that understanding, and adjust their lives and their interactions—how ever much they want to-with other people according to it. Don't you think so?"

Slowly then, just as she saw waiters walk over towards their table with silver platters of food held up in their hands in her periphery, Édouard Arsenault smiled wide, his hazel eyes pinned in hers with an intensity.

"I think you're exquisite, mademoiselle."

A blush cascaded over her then, her heart fluttering in her chest. She couldn't be certain then, if she had merely rambled a messy conjunction of thoughts at him. Were she to speak her words exactly as Adelaide, or even drive ideas from the younger Bonfamille girl's thoughts on the matter, Laur would offend not only Monsieur Arsenault but a certain part of herself too.

Perhaps, Adelaide was always the correct one, and everyone else in Laur's word—including she herself—were the ones in the wrong.

But at present—as in most times in her life—Laur couldn't believe that analogy. She couldn't belief her heart and the world around her, to be wrong.

The waiters set out their plates before them then, serving out the dishes and making portions on both their plates as Édouard Arsenault's hazel eyes kept themselves—glinting and unblinking, intense in their consideration—fixed in Laurentine's.

After the waiters had finished, they took away empty platters and set down the dishes that the seated persons could help themselves to if they wanted, after they had space available on their plates. Then the waiters dispersed again, leaving Édouard and Laur alone once again.

Her plate—as well as his—was portioned off, and she recognized a portion of steaming Ratatouille on hers, as well as Salade Niçoise and spaghetti topped with herbs and faint spices. His plate was similarly adorned, and she glanced at him as he downed his glass of champagne, his Adam's apple erect on his throat as it bobbed when be swallowed, before he set the glass down and met her eyes.

"Please," He gestured to her plate for her to begin eating, before picking up a silver fork himself.

Laur managed a smile, taking her own fork and beginning to eat, the half filled glass of champagne at her side fizzing gently.

"Do you come to Paris often?" She asked after a pause then, after she had swallowed her bite of delicious Ratatouille, the slices spicy and sweet in equal measure.

Édouard met her eyes, chewing and swallowing before he answered.

"Not often," He shook his head. "Once in two months perhaps. But my visits are about to increase far more than that now."

Laurentine bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes dropping to her plate as she tried to eat and focus on her food. She was desperately trying to not willingly give a different context to his statement—a context that suited her heart, even though she was well aware from the conversation that night at Garnier's mansion, that both Monsieur Laframboise and Monsieur Arsenault were trying their hand at business in Paris as well. They were both branching out from their endeavors in Marseille.

"I hope you have had success since we last saw each other," Laur managed, keeping her tone civil. "I understand that you had business plans with Monsieur Laframboise, in Paris?"

"Indeed," The man spoke, his eyes unblinking in hers. "I recently—in the past two weeks—bought land for real estate here in the city. I want the biggest Arsenault bank building in France to be built here in Paris."

Laurentine blinked in surprise. "Why in Paris?"

"Paris is the face of France," He uttered, his eyes wafting over to the cityscape at his side. "The city is going to be on every tongue in the world and will only get more popular as time goes on. I want my name—my bank—to be in all that. By having this building built, I want to set my business in the world's roots, if that makes sense."

Laur's lips were parted to speak, but no words came out. She was.. enchanted. His drive towards his business, the determination in his eyes—it was all perhaps the most attractive feat she had ever seen. Often gentlemen bragged to her about things and businesses they already had, but nobody spoke like this. Nobody spoke of their determination like what they already had didn't matter as much.

She loved Paris, so perhaps it was only just that. It was only the fact that this man in front of her recognized Paris' value so openly. But no, it was also.. him.

"Tell me more," She whispered softly when he had paused, and his hazel eyes sharpening in hers with an intensity.

"I want a damn skyscraper the likes of which this world has never seen," Édouard let out then, almost breathless in his determination. "I want the Cologne Cathedral in Germany to take a seat, in comparison."

Laurentine's eyes sparkled. Cologne Cathedral in Germany was at present the tallest building in the world. Though the seat of the Archbishop of Cologne was no bank building, it was still a figure of much awe in the world. To have a man aspire to surpass that, was a feat that was exciting and chilling in equal measure.

Laur couldn't fathom herself in the moment. Hadn't Colette told her about the competition in real estate and how it was taking over Marseille? Hadn't the dark haired girl suffered the loss of her business in Marseille because of the very feat? Why then did Laurentine find Édouard Arsenault's plans so awespiring? Mon Dieu, her heart seemed to flutter in her chest with every word he spoke.

"I have the land for it now, I have the contractors too," He uttered then, dabbing his mouth with a napkin before he grabbed the champagne to refill both their glasses.

"The land was mostly bare, only a restaurant, a half construction going on, and an abandoned empty shop," He met her eyes. "I have already given the restaurant owner the notice, he will be compensated for his loss and the construction owner too was gratified."

"That is kind of you," Laur smiled, thinking of the very first conversation they had had at Genevieve's home, where he had talked of taking care in his business endeavors to not purposefully cause the loss of others.

Édouard nodded once, settling back in his chair, done with his main course as he rested his elbow on the side of his chair, his thick fingers touching his chin as he gazed at her, bits of his dark hair falling in his eyes.

Laurentine finished her Ratatouille and Salade Niçoise, eagerly reaching for the silver platter of Flamiche—the cheese, cream and vegetable filled, quiche resembling dish already cut in pie-like slices by the chef.

Édouard leaned forwards immediately, taking hold of the platter before she had to make an effort at all, as he took a spoon and slid a slice of Flamiche neatly onto a smaller new plate for her.

"Merci," She beamed, taking the plate of Flamiche as he handed it to her.

He settled back into his chair again, watching her eat with an intense consideration. There was a pleasure in his eyes as he tried fruitlessly to mask it under his composure. Watching Laur indulge herself in food, her blue eyes shining as she elegantly cut off pieces of the Flamiche with her knife and lifted them to disappear in between her ruby red lips, was an intense pleasure to watch—so much so that Monsieur Édouard Arsenault's hand seemed to shake as he tightened it in a fist at his side.

"Mhm," Laur murmured then, her glittering eyes settling on Édouard then, "This Flamiche is the most delicious thing I have ever had. I haven't ever had Flamiche here before, won't you try it? It is simply divine."

Without even realizing it, Laurentine was holding up a fork upon which she had caught a piece of the Flamiche. She was raising the fork towards Édouard like she often did when she was dining with her sister or her friends from the opera house. Laur never behaved in such a way with the gentlemen she dined with, but at present, even though every inch of her body was aware of being on this dinner date with Monsieur Arsenault, she had subconsciously reverted to a default act.

Édouard's hazel eyes gazed in hers before glancing at the fork she was holding up for him, her manner already hesitant as realization was striking her.

Then, before she could retract her hand back and apologize, Édouard leaned in and gently took hold of her wrist, extending her hand a little more and bringing the fork she held to his mouth and encasing his mouth around the piece of Flamiche. He let go of her hand then, his eyes still fixed in hers as he settled back into his chair again and chewed slowly.

Laurentine blushed furiously, and this time, he fully noticed the warmth washing over her. A satisfaction reflected on his face, and she couldn't tell if it was in part due to the Flamiche or at the prospect of having made Laur blush so extensively.

"It is delicious," The man spoke then after he had swallowed, a slight grin on his lips before his look sombered and eyes firmed in hers.

"Though I can think of something else at present, that is simply divine."

Laur blinked, her eyes displaying slight curiosity before realization settled into her and she blushed again, smiling as she dropped her eyes to her plate.

"Tell me about you now, Laurentine," He uttered then, eyes flashing intrigue. "About your opera, and your life doing it." 

"I have been performing since I was nineteen," She smiled. "I have loved doing nothing more. Opera is my life, it saved me. I do not know where I would be without it." 

"How did it start?" Monsieur Arsenault asked, his eyes penetrating.

Laur giggled then, shaking her head as she thought of the story. "It is rather a silly origin story I think. You would not like to hear of it." 

He shook his head too, except, he was not laughing. "I would like to hear about anything, if you are the one telling it, mademoiselle." 

She blushed, tearing her eyes away from him and back to her plate briefly. 

"I think I fell in love with a composer when I was eighteen," She began, meeting the man's eyes again. "Georges Bizet. He was thirty-five then, but I do think he liked me more than I liked him. I loved his work, for I read his compositions often times in my stolen moments in my childhood. But I think I realized quickly that that was all that I loved about him." 

"And then?" Édouard probed, his attention fixed on her.

Laur smiled. "I sort of imagined myself on stage, and I imagined him watching me perform one of his pieces and I understood that I merely wanted to be heard and to perform, regardless of who's work it is." 

He nodded, pressing his back against his chair as he settled into it again, his eyes not leaving her for a moment. 

"And then you are here."

"And then I am here," She repeated softly. 

"Do you like composers, mademoiselle?" Monsieur Arsenault inquired then, leaning forwards again, his manner restless as though he had asked a question he desperately wanted the answer of, but had been too skeptical to ask. Which was silly for Laur to assume, for had she not only just told him about Bizet?

"I do like them," Laur narrowed her eyes teasingly, knowing exactly what he was asking but choosing to dodge it. "Of course I like them, I believe they are my favorite form of artists."

"No, I mean—," Monsieur Arsenault blurted out, restless, before composing himself. "I mean, as potential suitors. Would you only fall in love with a composer or an artist of a different form?" 

Laurentine's teasing expression vanished then when she heard the last statement. Had she not always imagined herself to fall for an artist, if she had to? She had never imagined anyone else. No businessmen, and especially no financers and bankers. 

She dropped her eyes to her plate briefly before meeting his gaze head on again. 

"I think I desire to only fall in love with someone who can love me back," She spoke. "He shall be my artist then, and I shall admire anything he breathes life into."

He swallowed thickly, his eyes softening in hers before he raised his hand to comb back the front bits of his hair.  

"I have arranged for a special desert," Édouard let out then, clearing his throat. "I requested it especially at the time I made the reservation. They don't serve it, and are having it made especially for us tonight."

Laurentine looked up at him again, taking in his intense eyes gazing at her.

"That sounds wonderful," She managed.

Composing her fluttering heart, she focused on finishing her slice of Flamiche, desperately trying to rid the image of him eating from her fork—the feel of his firm hand holding her wrist securely, when suddenly the hasty tapping polished shoes against the floor was heard getting closer in their direction.

Laur's eyes saw the figure of a thin suited man, with brown hair gelled back and brows knitted together in worry, as he jogged up towards their table, the man's eyes fixed on Édouard's form.

Before he could approach the table, a waiter quickly came in front of him, stopping him in his approach aggressively, fearing that he was a man come to bother Laurentine and Édouard's dinner. The man spoke urgent words to the waiter, pointing at Édouard Arsenault and trying to push past the waiter.

Laur couldn't hear the words, but she saw the man's decent as he shoved the waiter aside and hurried on towards her table, his eyes merely flitting over her for the subject of his concerns were only towards the gentleman she was seated with.

"Édouard," The man panted then, his voice loud as it shattered entirely the atmosphere of the dinner.

Édouard Arsenault's jaw tightened at the voice, and Laurentine was shocked to see fury originate on the man's face. His fury was dark, red and black as it held his handsome facial features intensely in its hold. Slowly, he turned his head to look at the man who had approached.

"Sorry to disturb you, Édouard," The man let out, "But you must come. You are needed at the site."

Édouard Arsenault did not respond, his head turned to a side to look up at the man who had so blatantly sauntered in to disturb. Laur could see that he was contemplating something—holding himself back from letting his anger overtake him. For a moment she felt as though she shouldn't be there, and that her presence was only adding to the inconvenience.

Two waiters quickly approached-including the one who had been so rudely shoved moments before. Édouard Arsenault raised a hand to dismiss them, and hesitantly, the waiters dispersed.

"Look Édouard," The man bent down to speak to Monsieur Arsenault, his voice audible to Laur.

"You know I wouldn't bother you if the matter wasn't urgent. It's—" The man glanced cautiously at Laur, breaking his sentence off.

"You need to accompany me to the site right now," He pressed, turning his eyes back to Édouard. "Good God man, it's everything we've been working so hard for. We're being sabotaged. You need to come."

It was then that Édouard Arsenault turned his face back towards Laurentine, his intense hazel eyes meting hers.

"I sincerely apologize for this, mademoiselle," He spoke, his words hard and laced with a fury that was not meant for her.

"It's alright," Laur hastened, disappointment clogging her throat as she tried to muster her smile.

"Please, you should go if it's urgent."

Then she got up off her chair, bending over towards Berlioz's sleeping form on the high pet's chair and taking him carefully into her arms, before turning to face Monsieur Arsenault, who was now standing up alongside the thin man.

Édouard's face was tinged with a disappointment that was different than her own. His disappointment was etched in his anger, whilst hers was merely.. a disappointment. She had been so excited for tonight, her heart had been so restless for two whole weeks leading up to this. She had been having such a magical time since the date started, and before she could even blink, it was over.

Monsieur Arsenault gestured to a waiter and handed him the bills for the dinner with a certain disregard, not bothering to ascertain the exact amount he was handing over. Laur was secretly impressed, watching his lack of care for the excessive amount he was giving, and knowing that it would translate into the tips for the waiters.

Then Édouard gestured her towards the far exit of the restaurant, and she obliged, keeping her smile on her face as she made her way through with Édouard Arsenault close at her side and the interrupting gentleman tailing behind.

Outside, the carriage that Laurentine and Édouard had arrived in, was waiting for them both, but instead only Laur and Berlioz were to be seated inside it.

"Again, I'm terribly sorry for this," Édouard Arsenault uttered then, having helped her inside the carriage as he stood at the entrance of the vehicle.

"It's truly alright, Édouard," Laur tried, touched by his apology though it did nothing to ease her disappointment. The night had been cut so quickly short. What special dessert had he ordered for her? She hadn't even gotten a chance to see it.

"It isn't your fault, and besides, you have asked for two more dinners with me, have you not?" Laurentine dared, her heart on edge. "I hope you have not forgotten about those, Monsieur."

To her relief then, the man grinned, his eyes fixed on her through bits of his hair slightly veiling his gaze.

"I haven't," He uttered, "I look forward to them now more than ever. I assure you, this sort of interruption will not be happening again."

Laur smiled, gently stroking Berlioz's fur. Monsieur Arsenault turned to speak to the driver, instructing him on Laur's address and the quicker route to take, which slightly surprised the lady seated inside the carriage, for had not Monsieur Arsenault himself admitted to being a rare visitor to Paris? 

"Bonne nuit, Mademoiselle Laurentine Bonfamille," He spoke then, closing the small door of the carriage and stepping away, his eyes fixed on her. "I desperately look forward to seeing you again."

"And I you, Monsieur," She managed, a blush washing over her cheeks as she tore her gaze away from him and dropped it onto the kitten curled in her lap. 

The carriage pulled forwards, and soon she was on her way home, the figure of Monsieur Édouard Arsenault long disappearing from both her view and the cityscape outside of the carriage windows. 

──── ౨ৎ ────

Arriving back to her silent manor was a strangely serene feeling for Laur, for the blush was still warm on her skin and a smile was still etched into her face, her cheek aching with the happiness that she felt. She was ecstatic, even though the dinner she had looked so adamantly forward to had been cut so abruptly short. Still, she had the promise of two more dinners to cherish and look forward to as well. 

It was all starting to scare her, the intensity she was feeling towards the gentleman in question. Had she ever fallen so quickly for someone before? Mon Dieu, had she already fallen for him? Was there no hope for her anymore? How could such a thing have happened so suddenly when just weeks ago she had assured Colette Blanc that there would no gentleman who could ever whisk her away to leave Adelaide and the manor behind. But at present, Laur was certain that if Monsieur Arsenault wanted to take her somewhere, she would glam herself up to perfection and go. 

The foyer was empty, and neither Benoit nor Manon received her at the door, which was slightly bewildering. One look at the time told her that she wasn't that late. It was nearing 10pm, and Colette and Adelaide too weren't to be back before 11pm, since they had planned refreshments and drinks for all their guests at the boutique opening. But regardless, Benoit and Manon never retired to their own quarters to sleep if either of the Bonfamille girls weren't back. 

Slowly, she locked the door behind her and stepped into the quiet foyer, the lights still on, as she shifted Berlioz only slightly in her arms in an attempt to get off the faux fur warming wrapped around her neck. 

It was then when footsteps were heard rapidly cascading down the grand staircase and into the foyer, and Laur saw Manon descend, dressed in a long coat over her maid's uniform. The girl stopped in shock when she spotted Laur, and then her face broke out into an astonished relief as she sprinted towards the lady of the house. 

"My lady!" The maid scampered towards Laurentine, and Berlioz stirred with the disturbance. 

"My lady, something terrible has happened!"

Laurentine blinked, confusion washing over her as her previous disposition—fueled by the dinner date with Monsieur Arsenault—refused to melt away fast enough. 

"What is it?" She managed once Manon had approached, the maid putting her hands on Laur's elbow as if to comfort her and hold her for support in equal measure, while the ginger haired girl's eyes remained anxious and wide. 

"I was waiting for you, my lady!" The girl tried, "I tried looking for you but no one at the opera house knew where you were heading for the dinner tonight. I decided to wait for you at the manor but I was just about to leave because I cannot just sit and do nothing, my lady, my heart won't let me!"

"You're scaring me now, Manon," Laurentine pressed, rocking the now awake kitten against her chest. "What has occurred? Is something amiss?" 

"My lady," Manon swallowed thickly, her eyes going grave. "Mademoiselle Adelaide and Mademoiselle Colette are accused of forging documents and acquiring property on somebody else's land without permission. They have been accused of property theft, my lady, and the person who rightfully owns the property has demanded severe action against them!" 

Laurentine's heart stopped in her chest. 

"What are you saying?" She stammered, her ears starting to ring. 

"That is what the police officer told me, my lady!" The maid cried, tears streaming out of her eyes and wetting her face. "He just barged in and Monsieur Benoit went with him and told me to wait for you and to inform you of everything." 

Laur shut her eyes briefly, her head starting to spin. "Where is my sister? Where is Colette?" 

"They have both been taken into custody at the police station, my lady."