On the ride from Richmond back to the inn at which he was staying,
Agent Chauvelin decided that he would no longer wonder too terribly
much about Marguerite's situation. The fact that she was married to *
that* man -- no, the fact that *he* was married -- was quite shocking
indeed; but marriage for money was not uncommon, he supposed,
especially in those circles. Either way, she clearly wanted no more
to do with him, and the husband was about as useful as a stinging
insect.
He paid the porter for another night as he made his way up to his
rooms, and stepped in as quietly as he had left, assuming they would
both be asleep -- it had been a rather long trip. After hanging his
coat and moving towards the kitchen, however, he was not incredibly
surprised to see his daughter up and about in the hall.
Chauvelin smiled. "You're up, then -- I'm sorry if you were
expecting me, a was held a little longer than I'd hoped." He motioned
to his sister's door. "Still asleep?"
Fleurette smiled at her father. She was happy he was back, she loved
her aunt dearly, but Poppa was Poppa. "She just went to bed,"
Fleurette answered hugging him, "I can't sleep, and anyway, I wanted
to see you." She smiled up at him prettily, something seemed to be
wrong, she thought, though what it was she couldn't have said. "Did
you do what you had to?"
Chauvelin kissed her forehead quickly, wrapping open arm around her
shoulders in greeting. "Yes, I did -- we should have a few free days,
now, if you can think of anything you'd like to do."
Hearing her brother's voice, and then Fleurette speaking with him, Iris
shoved the covers aside, and got out of bed. She hadn't been sleeping ...
more wondering just where the Revolution had called him to this time. She
opened the door of her room, to find Chauvelin and Fleurette, and half
smiled.
"Salut, Armand... you're... back." she said, not knowing just what else
she should have said.
"Yes ... went to see an old friend or two," he muttered quietly,
releasing Fleurette. "I hope you haven't been too bored; my business
is mostly completed, now, and as I was telling Fleurette -- if there's
anything you'd like to do, we have a few days." He know of his
sister's feelings, of course, and wondered precisely why he felt so
committed to proving them unfounded.
Iris shrugged, "No... it hasn't been too horrible around here..." she
considered adding, 'it's better than Paris, where the streets reek with
blood', but stopped herself. Iris smiled to her niece, and then to her
brother, "Whatever Fleurette would like to do... there's nothing in
particular that I care to do." She brushed a rebellious lock of curly black
hair from her face, and wondered just where her brother had gone that
morning.
Chauvelin nodded. He considered briefly sending his
sister off to join in the last-minute espionage, but
that was more information than he was truly
comfortable giving his family -- and then, after all,
he would be impeded in his business, as he certainly
was not about to leave his daughter alone.
Fleurette smiled a little sleepily and twisted her hair around her
hand, now that poppa was home she would be able to sleep
peacefully, "What is there in London to see? You both would know
better than I." She sat on the couch and curled up with her knees
pulled against her chest and her head on the arm rest. She watched
her family with drooping eye lids.
"There's nothing dreadfully artistic, though some of
the architecture is impressive ..." Chauvelin trailed
off, wondering how interested Fleurette could possibly
be in British architecture. He reluctantly suggested
the parks, though hem was not incredibly familiar with
them, and didn't know quite how conspicuous the three
of them might be.
At the mention of a part Fleurette's sleepy face brightened, she
missed the country. She missed grass and trees, and butterflies.
Fleurette didn't regret leavening her home in the country to be with
her father, she just missed it sometimes, but being with him made up
for it, "I'd like that, Poppa," she smiled.
Iris smiled -- the love the girl showed for her father was evident, and
she knew that her brother adored the girl more than anything else... despite
what his feelings were for the Republic. "We'll do that, then...?" she said
quietly, glancing to her brother for approval.
"We shall, yes. Hyde park? Get your coats," Chauvelin urged, trying
to remember if he knew how to reach that particular district at
all ... he had never made a point to be especially familiar with
London. Who knew, perhaps he would get some business done, and
perhaps his sister would lighten up just a bit during their walk.