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Tweak says, "Don't stop till you get enough"

madame_margot (madame_margot) wrote in toujoursliberer,
@ 2008-04-22 23:03:00

Entry tags:

marguerite_york

Marguerite York - Pas d'employés sans employeurs
Subject: A business deal, a job offer
Where: The Baron's residence in Grosvenor Square, London
Who: Marguerite York
Open to: Amandine, Olivier (if he's interested in following his wife), Mercedes (if he's around), Harry Fisher

Marguerite retreated to the gardens every morning after breakfast, whether it was pouring rain or blistering heat. As far as her husband was concerned, she went out there to read. As far as she was concerned, it was to write her letters in peace and quiet, away from prying eyes. How else could she find the best gossip?

While in London, her habits did not alter by far. Rather than spend her time indoors, she ordered the terrace windows opened wide and the room aired. When that did not help, she moved to the small terrace and tried to put her thoughts in order.

A servant, as usual, interrupted.

"A young woman is asking for you, Madam," he stammered. "She claims you gave her your card at the Ambassador's ball..."

Annoyance gave way to satisfaction. "Show her in."

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social_climber
2008-04-23 10:21 pm UTC (link)

It was still dark outside, with only the first thin tendrils of light reaching over the horizon, grabbing at the trees and houses, trying to get a foot-hold in the night. The last guest had left the Embassy, drunkenly stumbling and climbing into their carriage, a handful of hours ago, and in the meantime, Harry Fisher had gathered as much information as he possibly could.

Madam Marguerite York has recently replaced her household staff. Which gave him an opportunity he would otherwise not have had. He hadn't wanted to break anything, the window, or make the woman feel particularly exposed or endangered, by carefully taking out the window pane whole, so instead, but making discreet enquires as to the location of the servants quarters in reguard to the master and mistress's private rooms.

New staff did not know the house as well as the old, and men without a job were likely to talk when offered a pint or so. And so he had, perhaps five minutes after finding Grosvenor Square, carefully unpicked the front door of the house, locked it behind him, and followed the instructions he had been given. Up the stairs, along the corridor, to the left. Here was the lady of the house's private dressing room.

Selecting another fine pick from the black roll, he opened that door too, and glanced about. It was empty enough, and so he went in, and once again fastened the door behind him. The window showed dawn was a little closer now, but there was still hardly enough light to see by. But the shadows told him there was a candle on the little dressing table, a stool tucked under that. Tucking the lock picks away into an inner pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a small box, and lit the candle. And then he settled down to wait, sitting down on the window ledge, his feet set on the stool, drawing a slim volume from yet another inner pocket, Machiavelli's Prince.

And now to wait for the mistress of the house to wake up.

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madame_margot
2008-04-23 10:45 pm UTC (link)

A few hours of sleep proved enough rest in the aftermath of the party, thoughts of her new acquaintances swirling in Marguerite's mind until she gave up the pretense, trudging through her empty bedroom like a ghost. There would be a stranger in bedrooms in the other wing and servants in the quarters below, but thankfully no obligations for either for hours to come.

Outside her window blades of light had begun glittering over the city, sunrise much slower to come in London than anywhere else. Perhaps it had to do with the industries, the rush of people - or perhaps it was her own fatigue tainting the day before it had even begun.

Draping a robe over her shoulders, she relinquished the pretense of silence. It was depressing and dangerous. No person should be alone with his or her thoughts for long or they might prove overpowering. Better she put her time to good use. Engagements awaited her before she could return to the estate. Dresses needed to be picked out and she could hardly wait on her bumbling new maid to help her.

Candle in hand, she drew open the side door, closing it behind her more out of habit than concern for being heard. It was as she turned that she saw a shadow on the wall and then the presence of a man.

"Oh my god."

	social_climber 2008-04-27 04:30 pm UTC (link)
	Harry smiles, "I promised you a surprise, Marguerite. And surprises are not a difficult thing to create when you have the right sort of mind." He explains, before finishing, "A accident, Mrs York? Not a problem at all. Have you a particular favourite, or may I have free reign?" He asks, another evil little smirk playing at his lips. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	madame_margot 2008-04-27 06:36 pm UTC (link)
	"Do as you please," she shrugs noncommittally. "Have it be a surprise too. Far be it from me to tell you." Leaning her head against the window sill, she smiles. "Strange, I've fantasized about his death since the moment the priest pronounced us husband and wife. And to think it might actually happen... It seems too good to be true." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	social_climber 2008-04-28 05:07 pm UTC (link)
	Harry inclines his head. "It's often the best way, Marguerite. And then, should something go wrong, how can you have anything to do with it, if you do not know what has happened?" He offers. "But I shall be most happy to help. A woman should never feel trapped in any situation." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	madame_margot 2008-05-01 09:56 pm UTC (link)
	"Blissful ignorance," she mused. "It is after all what is expected of a woman in my position." Young wives were at their best when dumb, pretty and silent. "I'm thankful for your help. And you will be paid in consequence, after the deed is done. Until then, I still run my expense by my husband and it would be dangerous to risk it." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)