The Story of a Fireplace (Complete)
Dec. 28th, 2007 10:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ambitious_woman3. The Flame
"Did you hear what happened with le Duc? I cannot think there has been such a scandal since the King elevated his common-born whore, as if that might somehow make her one of us."
It was one of the Queen's women, then, a circle Reinette had been invited to join out of mere courtesy. To suggest, at least in appearance, they were capable of polite interaction. In truth she and Marie were more than willing to accept one's another's roles, and positions within Louis' life. It was those around them, idle nobility made refugees from their land by sheer laziness and and intense desire to avoid any real sort of work, that carried their offense to any supposed slurs to the fullest. Reinette knew that her middle class birth did more than make them uncomfortable -- it made them afraid. And though she had little use for their distaste, she had lived with it long enough that any slurs sat dull in her ears.
"They say she was nothing but the wife of a lawyer, of all things. Why she was worth such effort I cannot say. I have not seen her of course."
No, that would require stepping foot on the actual streets of Paris herself. Of course, though the years, such excursions had become all but impossible of Reinette as well. She had the distinct honor of being despised by both those she would join, and those that were of the opinion she betrayed them by leaving them behind. But corsets made for excellent armor were laced tightly enough, and if skin was more delicate than the silk that draped in sweeping layers over it? Then one always made sure it was properly concealed. Reinette never exposed any part of herself she truly valued. It did much to depreciate the risk involved of the live she had chosen.
"But really. What could he possibly have seen in her?"
Standing just outside of the door to the women's powder room, Reinette privately wondered much of the same. Because for all that many, many Ducs populated France, some of them born to their title, and others elevated to it, like herself? Whenever one spoke of le Duc -- the Duke -- they could only mean one man.
The duc de Richelieu.
It would be not only difficult to suggest their relationship through the years had been amicable. In fact, it could only be considered a lie. Utterly assured of his place and position within the walls of Versailles, Richelieu has used his position as Master to the Kings Chambers to attempt to not only take control of Louis' bedroom, but everything event that occurred within them. The self appointed lord of morality as well, he implemented a deeply personal agenda against not only Reinette herself, but the theatrics she held annually for Louis' pleasure and distraction.
He did not like her. And in turn she did not like him. The war between them had been nothing if not polite, almost entirely contained to well written, biting letters that left the reader perfectly sure where one stood in the other's graces.
He did not like her because she was common.
She did not like him because he was a pompous ass.
But somehow he had entered into an affair with a woman with birth and position far less notable than her own. A lawyer's wife?
Did he love her? Was he capable of loving her?
She realized that she was sadly behind on the stories that currently occupied the tongues at court. Her own daughter now buried for not even a month, Reinette had only just returned from the country.
She chose that moment to step into the powder room, though in private reflection in the days that followed she wished she might have reconsidered that action. Everything was coated with a fine dusting of powder, an attempt to keep the fleas and mites from the more complicated of hairstyles favored by many of the women there.
"They say that he visited her through her fireplace."
Reinette paled visibly, pallor now matching the dull white that surrounded the half dozen women that occupied the elegantly appointed space. She managed her voice just as the others took notice of her presence.
"I beg your pardon?"
One - a brunette -- seemed to immediately sense her superior hand in the situation. For information was all, and she possessed something Reinette did not.
"He visited her though her fireplace. It actually spun, if you can imagine such things. It allowed him entry from his home into her own, and then -- entry of another kind all together."
The other ladies tittered as if that were a remarkedly well-made joke. Reinette could only find it coarse, something that barely registered through the shock she was just managing to mask.
"Only when he went to visit her this last time, he found the husband's waiting arms instead."
Of course, Reinette thought. How often did it actually end well. It was not fatality she dealt with, but reality.
"What happened to her?"
"What do you mean?"
The girl was pretty enough, Reinette thought in passing. She would do well enough for herself, despite her slowness.
"What happened to his lover?"
The brunette's features pulled in distaste. She seemed perfectly content to not ever consider that side of the story, that of the woman's on the other side.
"Her husband has abandoned her, and her family has refused to take her back. I heard she is moving to the country, but I imagine the shame will follow."
Something in Reinette's gaze glinted silver-blue, bringing fire to her gray eyes.
"There is nothing shameful about love, inherently. The only shame comes from the gossiping tongues that follow in its wake."
And with that she fled the room, fled the icy hallway and the very party itself. Reinette forced her steps to remain measured as she returned to her room.
And her own fireplace.
Careful fingers traced over the familiar mantle, almost as if might suddenly spin before her. Revealing the Doctor or revealing le Duc Reinette could not be sure. The images were confused, lost within a mind that spun with a far more important question.
"How did they know?"
The empty room should have carried her words, but it only appeared to dampen the. Her voice sounded dull and heavy to her own ears.
"How could he possibly have known?"
Had Louis told Richelieu in passing, an amusing story shared between brandy and politics? Reinette had spoken to no one of the Doctor himself. But the story of the spinning fireplace and the woman that awaited on the other side had made or an amusing story spread between them over silken bedding. And it somehow eased her concious to share at least part of the tale. But never had she expected it to be turned against her in such away.
Still, the fireplace had spun one again. For someone else.
Reinette's frustrations from the evening turned outward. She eyed the clock that sat squarely on the center of the mantle, something immeasurable in her gaze.
"What happens if I shatter it myself," she challenged the darkness. It had not occurred to her to light candles. Reinette's only company was was the firelight. "Will you come then? Will you hear it, even as you seem to longer hear me? Do you always come when things are breaking? Broken?"
Her fingers curled over the clock.
"Because that is not what I have waited for, all these years. I am quite capable of mending myself."
In her mind, the clock shattered at her hands. In her mind, there was glass and splintered wood, tiny gears spinning across the tiled floor. In her mind --
Was a great many things.
There was only ever supposed to be one fireplace. One story, hers and hers alone since childhood. Her fireplace, and the man that came to her from within it. And Reinette was not inclined to share.
The fireplace had spun for someone else. And for them, someone had been waiting on the other side.
Yet Reinette could not help but think of the other woman, still nameless.
She had always suspected how her own story might end. Now, Reinette suspected, she knew.
The clock remained, filling its place on the mantle. It remained whole and undamaged. Ornate and delicate, it seemed to mirror the woman before it, with one exception. Steadily it kept time, all while Reinette's pulse threaded wildly.
The fireplace had spun once more.
For someone else.
OOC: This part of the story is based entirely on true events. The Duc and his lover did really meet through the aide of a spinning fireplace and in turn it did inspire the Doctor Who episode that Reinette appeared in!
"Did you hear what happened with le Duc? I cannot think there has been such a scandal since the King elevated his common-born whore, as if that might somehow make her one of us."
It was one of the Queen's women, then, a circle Reinette had been invited to join out of mere courtesy. To suggest, at least in appearance, they were capable of polite interaction. In truth she and Marie were more than willing to accept one's another's roles, and positions within Louis' life. It was those around them, idle nobility made refugees from their land by sheer laziness and and intense desire to avoid any real sort of work, that carried their offense to any supposed slurs to the fullest. Reinette knew that her middle class birth did more than make them uncomfortable -- it made them afraid. And though she had little use for their distaste, she had lived with it long enough that any slurs sat dull in her ears.
"They say she was nothing but the wife of a lawyer, of all things. Why she was worth such effort I cannot say. I have not seen her of course."
No, that would require stepping foot on the actual streets of Paris herself. Of course, though the years, such excursions had become all but impossible of Reinette as well. She had the distinct honor of being despised by both those she would join, and those that were of the opinion she betrayed them by leaving them behind. But corsets made for excellent armor were laced tightly enough, and if skin was more delicate than the silk that draped in sweeping layers over it? Then one always made sure it was properly concealed. Reinette never exposed any part of herself she truly valued. It did much to depreciate the risk involved of the live she had chosen.
"But really. What could he possibly have seen in her?"
Standing just outside of the door to the women's powder room, Reinette privately wondered much of the same. Because for all that many, many Ducs populated France, some of them born to their title, and others elevated to it, like herself? Whenever one spoke of le Duc -- the Duke -- they could only mean one man.
The duc de Richelieu.
It would be not only difficult to suggest their relationship through the years had been amicable. In fact, it could only be considered a lie. Utterly assured of his place and position within the walls of Versailles, Richelieu has used his position as Master to the Kings Chambers to attempt to not only take control of Louis' bedroom, but everything event that occurred within them. The self appointed lord of morality as well, he implemented a deeply personal agenda against not only Reinette herself, but the theatrics she held annually for Louis' pleasure and distraction.
He did not like her. And in turn she did not like him. The war between them had been nothing if not polite, almost entirely contained to well written, biting letters that left the reader perfectly sure where one stood in the other's graces.
He did not like her because she was common.
She did not like him because he was a pompous ass.
But somehow he had entered into an affair with a woman with birth and position far less notable than her own. A lawyer's wife?
Did he love her? Was he capable of loving her?
She realized that she was sadly behind on the stories that currently occupied the tongues at court. Her own daughter now buried for not even a month, Reinette had only just returned from the country.
She chose that moment to step into the powder room, though in private reflection in the days that followed she wished she might have reconsidered that action. Everything was coated with a fine dusting of powder, an attempt to keep the fleas and mites from the more complicated of hairstyles favored by many of the women there.
"They say that he visited her through her fireplace."
Reinette paled visibly, pallor now matching the dull white that surrounded the half dozen women that occupied the elegantly appointed space. She managed her voice just as the others took notice of her presence.
"I beg your pardon?"
One - a brunette -- seemed to immediately sense her superior hand in the situation. For information was all, and she possessed something Reinette did not.
"He visited her though her fireplace. It actually spun, if you can imagine such things. It allowed him entry from his home into her own, and then -- entry of another kind all together."
The other ladies tittered as if that were a remarkedly well-made joke. Reinette could only find it coarse, something that barely registered through the shock she was just managing to mask.
"Only when he went to visit her this last time, he found the husband's waiting arms instead."
Of course, Reinette thought. How often did it actually end well. It was not fatality she dealt with, but reality.
"What happened to her?"
"What do you mean?"
The girl was pretty enough, Reinette thought in passing. She would do well enough for herself, despite her slowness.
"What happened to his lover?"
The brunette's features pulled in distaste. She seemed perfectly content to not ever consider that side of the story, that of the woman's on the other side.
"Her husband has abandoned her, and her family has refused to take her back. I heard she is moving to the country, but I imagine the shame will follow."
Something in Reinette's gaze glinted silver-blue, bringing fire to her gray eyes.
"There is nothing shameful about love, inherently. The only shame comes from the gossiping tongues that follow in its wake."
And with that she fled the room, fled the icy hallway and the very party itself. Reinette forced her steps to remain measured as she returned to her room.
And her own fireplace.
Careful fingers traced over the familiar mantle, almost as if might suddenly spin before her. Revealing the Doctor or revealing le Duc Reinette could not be sure. The images were confused, lost within a mind that spun with a far more important question.
"How did they know?"
The empty room should have carried her words, but it only appeared to dampen the. Her voice sounded dull and heavy to her own ears.
"How could he possibly have known?"
Had Louis told Richelieu in passing, an amusing story shared between brandy and politics? Reinette had spoken to no one of the Doctor himself. But the story of the spinning fireplace and the woman that awaited on the other side had made or an amusing story spread between them over silken bedding. And it somehow eased her concious to share at least part of the tale. But never had she expected it to be turned against her in such away.
Still, the fireplace had spun one again. For someone else.
Reinette's frustrations from the evening turned outward. She eyed the clock that sat squarely on the center of the mantle, something immeasurable in her gaze.
"What happens if I shatter it myself," she challenged the darkness. It had not occurred to her to light candles. Reinette's only company was was the firelight. "Will you come then? Will you hear it, even as you seem to longer hear me? Do you always come when things are breaking? Broken?"
Her fingers curled over the clock.
"Because that is not what I have waited for, all these years. I am quite capable of mending myself."
In her mind, the clock shattered at her hands. In her mind, there was glass and splintered wood, tiny gears spinning across the tiled floor. In her mind --
Was a great many things.
There was only ever supposed to be one fireplace. One story, hers and hers alone since childhood. Her fireplace, and the man that came to her from within it. And Reinette was not inclined to share.
The fireplace had spun for someone else. And for them, someone had been waiting on the other side.
Yet Reinette could not help but think of the other woman, still nameless.
She had always suspected how her own story might end. Now, Reinette suspected, she knew.
The clock remained, filling its place on the mantle. It remained whole and undamaged. Ornate and delicate, it seemed to mirror the woman before it, with one exception. Steadily it kept time, all while Reinette's pulse threaded wildly.
The fireplace had spun once more.
For someone else.
OOC: This part of the story is based entirely on true events. The Duc and his lover did really meet through the aide of a spinning fireplace and in turn it did inspire the Doctor Who episode that Reinette appeared in!
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Date: 2008-01-23 09:10 pm (UTC)