The Courtier's Tale Ch. 02

"Marcel." He paused wondering what Anna could possibly want. "Tomorrow is the Sabbath. You will attend mass with us."

Irritation prickled through him. He attended mass in Paris, of course. Did she honestly think he wouldn't? Everyone who was anyone had to be seen among the faithful. "Certainly, my lady." He tone was sour and sarcastic.

"We will be leaving an hour after sunrise. Do not be tardy." Marcel's mouth thinned and he nodded stiffly.

His valet woke him as the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Instead of toast, Joseph had brought him several small sandwiches with his tea. Marcel took one, silently appreciating the man's consideration. "These are new." He was amused that his servant was avoiding his eyes over such a small thing.

"I'm sure there won't be time for a proper breakfast, my lord."

"Knowing my sister, I'm sure there won't be. Not if I'm to go to mass properly dressed."

He watched Joseph select his clothes for the coming day as he ate. The slender man was lovely. His movements were graceful, rapid and efficient as always. Marcel wondered how he could've overlooked the natural sensuality of his valet for so long.

The other man approached the bed; his arms loaded with satin and brocade. As his valet's gloved hands pulled back the quilt, Marcel swung his legs out of bed. He put down the empty teacup and allowed Joseph to dress him in green and gold. It was one of his more flamboyant outfits and it couldn't be more perfect. He simply didn't wear black and Lord Valmont loved to wear festival clothes on solemn occasions. The shoes were slipped last onto his feet. They were an embroidered affair with great silken bows. Small pearls were stitched to them complimenting the moonstones at their centre.

Marcel savoured the feel of Joseph's cotton covered palms on his calves as he knelt for this task. He reached out and stroked his fingers through the other man's black hair. "You're so adorable like this, Joseph. I love seeing you on your knees." The colour rising into his valet's cheeks delighted him. He laughed as he rose to his feet and made his way to the foyer of Anna's manor house.

He arrived moments ahead of Elizabeth and his sister. They were both dressed in muted blues and white. Anna's eyes travelled the length of him. "You look like a peacock."

He smiled gaily at her and sketched an exaggerated bow. "Nice to see you, too, my dear. How are you, my lady? Did you sleep well?"

Her brow gathered into a knot. "You aren't seriously going to mass dressed like that?"

"Of course I am." Marcel was offended by Anna's puritan tastes and piqued that she wasn't rising to the bait. "We can't all wear sober colours and sit quietly on our hands." She only rolled her eyes at him and walked out to the carriage.

Marcel wondered how long it would take to reach whatever chapel they were going to. It wasn't likely to compare to the great cathedrals of Paris. Though he paid little attention to the priests, Marcel appreciated the magnificent architecture in its attention to detail. The church was also the perfect hunting ground when he grew bored and wanted a new lover. He sighed heavily and lifted the curtain to see where they were.

His hand was smacked soundly before he'd had more than a glimpse of the outside world. Anna was glowering at him as if he'd done something unforgivable. "Don't lift the curtain, Marcel. It simply isn't done."

"Damn it, Anna! That hurt!"

"Watch your language! And for the love of god, try not to offend anyone when we get there."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

David was deep in thought as he saddled his pony. The incident with Lord Valmont earlier in the week had quite unsettled him. Fortunately, he hadn't needed to visit Montblanc Manor and it gave him time to decide what he should do. Mentioning the affair to Anna was simply out of the question. His cheeks coloured at the thought. Lady Montblanc was a lady of taste and refinement. Speaking of such a thing to her would be like vomiting on her dining room table. No. He would have to speak to Valmont directly and clearly.

He had no illusions about whether or not Marcel would be attending mass. He'd seen enough in Paris to be aware of the cut throat politicking that went on beneath the vaulted architecture of catholic piety.

He led the little mare out of the stable and climbed into the saddle. It was a small building, housing only the shetland pony and a placid cow. His cottage was a short walk from it along with a vegetable garden. All of it was on Montblanc land a fair distance from the main estate. The little house and the stipend Anna paid him kept David comfortable. The income from his other students allowed him to hire a girl to milk his cow, do the washing and tend the garden. It was a quiet life, just as Anna had described.

He shook his head. He could not allow his patron's brother to endanger everything he'd worked for here. David knew that allowing the selfish courtier to bed him was probably the smartest thing to do. Then the man would him alone and nothing would be said of it. A wave of anger and revulsion passed through him. He couldn't bring himself to do such a thing. He'd have to discourage Valmont's interest in him altogether. Unfortunately, his experiences with noblemen of a similar nature gave him little hope of success. If Anna's brother was determined to pursue him, what could he do but ignore the courtier and hope for the best?

With this thought in mind, David Colton cantered the remaining distance to the chapel. It was small as catholic churches went. The lower pews would accommodate a mere five to six hundred people. The upper balcony, reserved for the nobility, served the needs of a few dozen more. The exterior was a modest cobbled stone framing the narrow stained glass windows.

Securing his dappled pony to horse rail, David entered the small cathedral through the heavy oak wood doors. He didn't bother looking for a seat immediately. There was already a small gathering of local farmers and tradesmen, chatting to one side of the confessional.

They smiled as he approached and David joined them in pleasant conversation. It had taken awhile for the many of the locals to accept him among them. Not only was he a useless artist in their eyes, but he was a foreigner as well. Still, his own family was not far removed from the peasantry of his native Ireland. He definitely preferred the company of serfs and bourgeoisie to the aristocracy of France.

"David, I hear the Lady Montblanc is entertaining her brother. They say he's lately come from Paris to see her. Any truth to that?"

He smiled ruefully. "Aye. Lord Valmont is indeed visiting. How did you men hear of it so soon?"

They shared a secret smile among them. "Well, Mr. Colton. The wind told us." he laughed with them, sharing the joke. They'd never tell and he knew well enough not to press them.

Jonas, a local merchant, lapsed abruptly into silence. His mouth fell open and the poor fellow's eyes looked as though they would pop. Indeed, he wasn't the only one to be having such a reaction. David turned, his eyes widening as he did so. Marcel Valmont had arrived in all his courtly splendour.

The emerald green brocade was eye catching enough. However, the cloth of gold piping at every major seam glittered whenever the young lord moved. Marcel didn't simply walk through a room. He strutted with self-indulgent vanity, his colours a stark contrast against the more sober clothes of those around him. David was truly astonished by how little Marcel seemed to care what anyone here thought of him.

"God preserve us, David. Is that him?"

"Yes, Jonas. I'm afraid it is."

Forcing a placid expression, David stepped forward to great Anna and her brother. "My lady. How are you this morning? My lord, Valmont." He bobbed his head politely, but that wasn't to be the end of it.

"Monsieur Colton. How lovely to see you." Marcel's smile was pure poison. "Your company has been sorely missed. A pity as I was just getting to know you better."

David flushed, many responses slid through his mind like oil. However, Anna's presence made all of them entirely inappropriate. "I..."

Valmont waved one hand in dismissal. "Don't fret over it, monsieur. Surely there will be many more occasions in which to argue. Many issues over which to vent our dislike." He smiled winsomely, "Unless, of course, we agree to demur. To respect each other as the civilized world requires?"

Anna rolled her eyes disdainfully. "Really, Marcel. We are at mass and you're making sport of my artiste in God's own house. Is no one and nothing sacred to you?" The corners of Marcel's mouth twitched upwards, as if he'd won something. His brown eyes glittered at her beneath his sooty lashes. Though he said nothing, Anna's mouth thinned and her brow knotted. "No. I didn't think so."

Anna brushed by them all, her daughter in tow. Elizabeth was quite amused, though she managed to keep from giggling. David found himself momentarily alone with the nobleman, who was now standing entirely too close.

"That went better than expected. My sister must be in good humour." Marcel slipped his arm through David's and began walking with him to the upper balcony. "Clearly we started off on the wrong foot last time we spoke. I'd very much like us to be friends."

David adopted a congenial expression and lowered his voice to a tight whisper. "Friends? You must be joking."

"Not at all. I'm sure my sister would like us to get along. I will, after all, be spending the next year or so beneath her roof."

David mind was whirling. A year? That was an unusually long period of time for a man like Marcel to be away from court. "My lord, though I've no wish to have differences with you..."

"No? Your overzealous attack on my person would seem to suggest otherwise." Marcel's eyes glittered dangerously. "Tell me, monsieur Colton, what possessed you?"

David only stared at Marcel. For a few long moments he was unable to find words for the outrage he felt. "What possessed me? How dare you!"

They were just inside the upper balcony. Several of the French gentry turned to stare in their direction, Anna among them. She advanced rapidly on the two men and glared at them. "Lower your voice, David. People can hear you."

"My apologies, my lady. I..." he hesitated, unsure how to explain himself.

"Well?"

He flushed crimson and lowered his eyes to the floor. There really was no excuse for shouting at a nobleman, particularly this one. No matter how vile he might be. "Please accept my most humble apologies. Forgive me, my lord Valmont."

Marcel's smile was edged with cruelty and his dark eyes were cold. "Certainly. I would not like to give you the impression I harboured a grudge." The lord bowed to his sister and sought a place to sit.

Anna was still looking at him, disappointment in her brown eyes. "I know my brother is difficult, David. However, he is still my brother and you must respect him. Especially in a place like this."

"Yes. You're right of course."

She sighed with weary patience and threaded her arm through his. "You're forgiven. Come and sit down."

David did as he was bid. He remained uncomfortably aware of Marcel's eyes upon him. Though he wasn't sure what he could do about the situation, he needed to do it soon. Whatever it was.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Marcel was relieved to leave the little chapel. Anna's provincial neighbours had been largely dull and uninteresting. Most them hadn't been to court at all. Of those that had, few had been invited to attend their relatives in Paris more than once. It had come as no surprise to him. Most of the younger noblemen he'd met would be eaten alive by the more worldly courtiers of Paris. He smirked as he took a seat in Anna's upper library. Though unfit for the salons of the capital, one or two of them might be likely prospects later on. Though only if he grew bored enough to pursue them.

Joseph appeared at his side and poured a glass of cognac for him. The younger man took two quick steps back and stood stoically with lowered eyes. Marcel's lips curved a little. It was a pleasure to have even one servant that attended him so perfectly.

Anna, Elizabeth and David seated themselves across from him. A pretty little housemaid deposited a tray of cakes and sweet meats before them. Another rolled a silver tea service into the room and began filling the tiny porcelain cups.

Lady Montblanc scowled at him. It was an expression that often preceded a long and tiresome lecture on the defects of his character. "Are you drinking this early in the day, Marcel? It's the Sabbath! You could at a least set this one day aside for the consideration of soul."

Marcel sipped his drink comfortably, quite unrepentant. "Why should I bother when you're more than happy to do it for me?"

Anna opened her mouth to berate him and stopped when David touched her shoulder lightly. "Your pardon, my lady. As you observed, this is a holy day. Perhaps you would agree to postpone your quarrel..." The look she gave Mr. Colton was calculating and austere. It gave nothing of her thoughts away. "Please, Anna. For me?"

She demurred then, patting the music teacher's arm. "For you then."

Marcel could hardly believe it. Indeed he could hardly stand it. She'd given in to him? Just like that? He watched David converse with Anna and Elizabeth. The other man's long legs were crossed elegantly in front of him. The little black bows by his knees suited the rest of the dark grey ensemble perfectly. White lace rested against his throat and peeked out the cuffs of David's sleeves. He was the perfect picture of Puritan chastity.

The lord's dark eyes narrowed as Anna laughed in response to a jest. Her fingers fluttered upwards briefly and landed with the softest touch on David's wrist as she spoke to him. Marcel's lip curled in disgust. That his sister appeared to be openly flirting with the bourgeoisie man irritated him further. Taking a cake from the dainty serving tray, Marcel fumed in sullen silence.

When he'd done chewing the dainty sweet, he curled his lip into a sneer. "You know, Anna, until now I'd often wondered why you never remarried. Your late husband left you a considerable fortune, after all. Not only that, you're still pleasant enough to the eye for your age. Surely you've no lack of suitors? Even if you do live as far from the court as this." He grinned maliciously and looked pointedly at David. "Yet now I see you're keeping your prospects open and your life unfettered. That is perhaps the wisest choice for an older matron like yourself."

All three of them were gaping in shock. Anna's mouth opened and closed as she spluttered in wordless outrage. Elizabeth eyes were wide and disbelieving. David was first of them to recover his wits.

"My lord, Valmont. We earlier agreed..."

"I agreed to nothing. I never do."

Anna's hands clenched to tight fists. "You... you horrid little..." she was shaking hard in her fury. Marcel began to wonder if she was about to have a stroke or some other failure.

"No. I don't suppose you do." David's tone was unfriendly. His manner brusque as he rose from his place. "You look unwell my lady. You should lie down." He extended his hand to Marcel's sister.

Instead of taking it, she stood and glared at Marcel furiously. "I'll have words with you later." She hissed. "My apologies, David. Come, I'll show you out."

Lord Valmont was thoroughly amused and secretly proud of his sister. It wasn't just any woman that could collect herself with such authority. Especially after the deep insult he'd given her. The next few hours would be entirely free of boredom. Of that he was quite certain.

"Uncle?" He turned in surprise. He'd quite forgotten his niece in his efforts to be cruel. "Was that necessary?"

He smiled at her and raised his glass. "Oh yes, my dear. Quite necessary." She merely stood there, her face a silent reproach. Marcel knew she adored her eccentric uncle and it pained him to have hurt her. Yet she was becoming more and more a woman. These things were part of life. "Off with you."

She hesitated only a moment more and then left him alone in the parlor. His gaze flowed momentarily over Joseph's still form. Well, not quite alone.

Marcel observed David through the window as he kissed Anna's hand and bade her goodbye. The Irishman then mounted his tiny steed and cantered away at an unhurried pace. He gazed at David's retreating back through the long windows. It was no longer a simple matter of lust. Whatever else he was, Lord Valmont was still very much a man. A dangerous nobleman whose considerable pride had been wounded. Marcel tapped his lip with a manicured finger. One way or another, he was determined to bend the other man to his will.