"Jack, if you continue to smile at me just so?" Reinette was caught up in the moment of reprieve. The ease between them and the teasing words and though it was very different than the night before it was still welcome. "I shall see you are brought and entire meal of French pastries."
She smiled herself.
"My chef is especially talented. He has a fine hand for crepes."
And then, of course, they were back to the topic she had hoped to avoid all together. It was easier with the Doctor. He came and went and yet he always seemed to arrive on her best days. Jack seemed to present a more continued presence, even this soon. And an astute one as well.
But his words sounded far too like Louis' for her own comfort. She could feel herself pale slightly and scolded herself for being so close to him as she did so. Louis promised medicine as well. Physicians. The best care possible. But did not stop the migraines of the miscarriages, and it did not save their relationship.
"I am weary of it Jack," she said quietly. What was more honesty now, really. "I am weary of the bleedings and the promises and the hope. Acceptance is a far more peaceful companion. It was getting exhausting."
"Oh then in that case I'll have to make sure to keep smiling then, won't I?" He lifted a finger and brushed it again over her cheek. Just the briefest of touches.
"Is he now?" he added, an eyebrow lifted suggestively. "What's he look like? Because you know I've been known to have a fine hand for chefs." He laughed, teased, it was as though the moment needed the lightness to contrast the dark.
He saw though, as the conversation progressed, how her eyes fell with the tone in her skin. It wasn't fair of him really, to offer things out of her time and understanding-- No. No that was wrong, it wasn't that she wouldn't understand. She had the capacity for it, and her mind was certainly able, but still, he may as well be offering to cast a spell.
But could he let it rest there? Not comfortably, he thought. "It's not the same," he said quietly, his voice a mirror to hers. "The people I could take you to, they know more. They understand and they could help. They could."
His voice dropped further, just a whisper, "You're far too beautiful to be torn away, Jeanne Antoinette."
"He is extremely attractive, if it must be said. I have only now found a kitchen staff that can perform the most basic of functions in his presence. It was growing irritating."
Yes, the conversation was far superior.
"And he is obviously quite skilled with his hands. If you are pleasing enough perhaps I will allow you into the kitchens when he kneads the dough."
There was an almost desperate need for him to latch onto the absurdity of this part of the conversation and abandon the rest. Reinette did not like feeling desperate.
"You cannot know that," she countered. Not because she was so certain that he could not. But because what she said was true. She was weary of it. When she stepped away from Louis, to some extent she stepped away from the fight as well. There was something different now, a sense resolve. "And beauty is hardly a reason to preserve a thing. Some of the loveliest things I know are the flowers in my gardens. Their time is measured as well. Perhaps I do not need mending."
"Oh, well, best not let your kitchen staff meet me then."
He understood the need to take solace in the ridiculous. He did it so very often in his own life. It was often written off as flippancy, or worse as heartlessness. But that wasn't it. It was a barrier, a protective measure, but one she seemed to share.
And so the next line of the thought would voiced. Quiet, an obvious continuation of a thought. "I wonder..." he said, thoughtful in his tone, "just how alike we are..."
He took a breath at her reasoning. He could quite easily find a counterpoint to it, but that wouldn't be fair. He knew too that sometimes people found strength in being in control of their own mortality. He wouldn't take that from her. So for now, at least, he'd not push.
"Fine," he said. "Fine." And he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"I am going my best to keep them away. Even if that requires that I be the one to turn down your bed every night."
Though it was not an entirely unpleasant thought. Even as heated as their argument had been, it still stood as the best day she had shared in some time.
But at his question her gaze fluttered upward and then found an anchor. The truth of the matter was not difficult to sort through to find.
"A great deal, I think."
It was not always a good thing. She would know best how to get underneath his skin. And him in turn her. There would be far less places to hide. This time she did not close her eyes as his lips touched her forehead. Instead she presented him with the brightest of smiles for when he pulled away.
Reinette was not so foolish as to think she won.
"Well, Jack. Have we argued our way into an appetite or would you still like to go driving?"
"Well I'm sure a clever woman like you would never turn down my bed." He amused himself with twisting and playing with the words and their intention. It never hurt to take them elsewhere, or... he didn't expect it would ever hurt with her.
Her smile was warming, and it prompted a smile from him in return. A reaction almost reflex. He couldn't help it, he'd be foolish not to smile when on the receiving end of such a gaze.
The question prompted in his mind an immediate thought, and he knew best to push it away. If she was ill then the cold air was likely not best for her (and certainly not in the 18th Century. She could hardly go and take an asprin). But then to say as much would be to be saying something he didn't wish to. So instead, he nodded, twisted a slight smirk again.
"But of course I would." Reinette actually caught the light tones of her own laughter. "Because I am actually clever enough to know that a bed is not always required. Had you not heard Jack?"
Yes, that was definitely her laughter.
"I suppose the future is not as advanced as I thought."
She accepted his answer easily, as neither of them had breakfast that morning. Reinette supposed it spoke to a certain eagerness on her part to spend the day with Jack which she would have to examine later. After all, it was not all play acting and a determination to set the court on its ear.
She stepped away and felt the air rush in to fill between them as she smoothed her skirts and then offered him her arm.
"Ahh..." he smirked, he laughed. "Touché," he said, overdoing the French pronunciation to an almost comic degree.
She moved, but he didn't allow her the distance to move completely. His hand lifted and caught her wrist as she shifted back, his fingers drifting to her hand to catch it that way.
"The kitchens so soon? Now that really is spoiling me," he grinned. "And, if I might say, playing with fire."
But he had the feeling she was an old hand at that.
Reinette looked down at the casual, assured way he captured her hand within his own. There, she thought, was at least one difference between them.
She very consciously inserted herself into a space. She debated her varied options, considered reactions and then carefully chose as to maximize her desired result.
Jack on the other hand simply filled it. Consumed it even. He owned everything that came remotely close to him. Not just her hand. It was their conversation. It was her air. When she breathed, she breathed in him.
And while it was not an entirely unpleasant sensation, she also felt the urge to free herself. To go somewhere, anywhere and find fresh air to breath again. If only to center herself.
Playing with fire indeed.
"What," she managed with a relatively innocent expression. "It is only for eclairs."
Amongst Jack's repertoire of responses there were many that he could have chosen to fit the occasion. Many and varied from serious to teasing to downright dirty.
On this occasion, he chose one distinctly silly.
"Yeah?" he said. "I bet you say that to all the boys."
And he grinned at her, took a step forward, and reached his free hand around to tap her on the behind, (or as well he could through layers of skirt).
"Tell me," he said, utterly serious. "Do they have cream? Because if they do. Oh you really do know the way to a man's heart."
She twisted sharply as the walked back to the palace to catch the offending hand just as it was retreating. Reinette looked up at Jack with something very close to a glare, though there was no real malice behind it.
"I suppose I should be thankful you did not pinch me. Careful, or I might retaliate."
It was a vague sort of promise that could be recalled later.
If her next words were more wicked than her expression made it less so as the ascended stairs. Reinette was laughing again.
"I did not think a heart was involved at all in that particular exchange."
"Pinch you?!" Jack said, utterly incredulous, as though the very idea was ridiculous. He smirked, "I'd never dream of it." Well aware, of course, of the fact it was act he'd already participated in.
"But I'll remember that," he nodded in reference to her retaliation. "I'll be disappointed if you don't."
Jack kept himself close as they walked. Their shared laughter would make it near impossible to believe the sharpness in the words they'd shared such a short time ago. But it was promising, he thought, that they could so easily slide from one to another, and not seem damaged because of it.
"Oh now!" He laughed. "Jeanne Antoinette, I think in you I may have met my match."
They walked easily together, hand in hand. It occurred to Reinette that whatever rumors they had been attempting to fan before? They certainly cemented now. Though she had dismissed the stable staff, and would have been able to witness their argument on the stable green, as well as the subsequent scene that followed.
Strange she did not care nearly as much as before.
"Then I shall but great effort into determining the firm that retaliation shall take."
Reentering Versailles, she remained close to Jack. She would have liked a great deal to share the kitchen gardens with him -- s small idea for what was actually countless acres of land. But it was winter, and many of the plants were dormant and asleep.
Instead she lead Jack to a small blue sitting room that faced the morning sun. There was a sideboard there suitable for serving small meals. She ordered a breakfast to be delivered for them both, as well as the presence of her chef.
"Well in that case I'll look forward to seeing just what you come up with," he said, watching her from the corner of his eye, his lips still turned up into a smile.
He walked with her, stayed with her, and he found he really didn't care where it was that they walked. He didn't care to bump into others (in fact he'd much prefer that they didn't). He simply cared for spending time with her.
In the new room he again stood himself gazing out of the window. He stared into the morning light as though he might find something in it, some sort of answer or explanation. But nothing was forthcoming; perhaps it was better that way.
As soon as she was done dealing with her staff, Jack shifted attention back to her and away from the window. "The chef so soon?" he asked, an eyebrow raised in suggestion.
Reinette settled onto a long, low settee beneath one of the many window and looked up at Jack as her hands moved to smooth her skirts. Her staff was set to the talks at hand but for the moment she had a moment of privacy.
Eventually the ease between them would have to be put away as the room again grew crowded. While she was very nearly certain she could trust Jack, the same could not be said for others.
For now, she smiled, enjoying the warmth of the windows against her exposed skin. She felt rather like a cat.
"Well, if you are going to leave me in a fit of passion for my servant, surely it is better to know sooner rather than later?"
She smiled herself.
"My chef is especially talented. He has a fine hand for crepes."
And then, of course, they were back to the topic she had hoped to avoid all together. It was easier with the Doctor. He came and went and yet he always seemed to arrive on her best days. Jack seemed to present a more continued presence, even this soon. And an astute one as well.
But his words sounded far too like Louis' for her own comfort. She could feel herself pale slightly and scolded herself for being so close to him as she did so. Louis promised medicine as well. Physicians. The best care possible. But did not stop the migraines of the miscarriages, and it did not save their relationship.
"I am weary of it Jack," she said quietly. What was more honesty now, really. "I am weary of the bleedings and the promises and the hope. Acceptance is a far more peaceful companion. It was getting exhausting."
Reply
"Is he now?" he added, an eyebrow lifted suggestively. "What's he look like? Because you know I've been known to have a fine hand for chefs." He laughed, teased, it was as though the moment needed the lightness to contrast the dark.
He saw though, as the conversation progressed, how her eyes fell with the tone in her skin. It wasn't fair of him really, to offer things out of her time and understanding-- No. No that was wrong, it wasn't that she wouldn't understand. She had the capacity for it, and her mind was certainly able, but still, he may as well be offering to cast a spell.
But could he let it rest there? Not comfortably, he thought. "It's not the same," he said quietly, his voice a mirror to hers. "The people I could take you to, they know more. They understand and they could help. They could."
His voice dropped further, just a whisper, "You're far too beautiful to be torn away, Jeanne Antoinette."
Reply
"He is extremely attractive, if it must be said. I have only now found a kitchen staff that can perform the most basic of functions in his presence. It was growing irritating."
Yes, the conversation was far superior.
"And he is obviously quite skilled with his hands. If you are pleasing enough perhaps I will allow you into the kitchens when he kneads the dough."
There was an almost desperate need for him to latch onto the absurdity of this part of the conversation and abandon the rest. Reinette did not like feeling desperate.
"You cannot know that," she countered. Not because she was so certain that he could not. But because what she said was true. She was weary of it. When she stepped away from Louis, to some extent she stepped away from the fight as well. There was something different now, a sense resolve. "And beauty is hardly a reason to preserve a thing. Some of the loveliest things I know are the flowers in my gardens. Their time is measured as well. Perhaps I do not need mending."
Reply
He understood the need to take solace in the ridiculous. He did it so very often in his own life. It was often written off as flippancy, or worse as heartlessness. But that wasn't it. It was a barrier, a protective measure, but one she seemed to share.
And so the next line of the thought would voiced. Quiet, an obvious continuation of a thought. "I wonder..." he said, thoughtful in his tone, "just how alike we are..."
He took a breath at her reasoning. He could quite easily find a counterpoint to it, but that wouldn't be fair. He knew too that sometimes people found strength in being in control of their own mortality. He wouldn't take that from her. So for now, at least, he'd not push.
"Fine," he said. "Fine." And he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Reply
Though it was not an entirely unpleasant thought. Even as heated as their argument had been, it still stood as the best day she had shared in some time.
But at his question her gaze fluttered upward and then found an anchor. The truth of the matter was not difficult to sort through to find.
"A great deal, I think."
It was not always a good thing. She would know best how to get underneath his skin. And him in turn her. There would be far less places to hide. This time she did not close her eyes as his lips touched her forehead. Instead she presented him with the brightest of smiles for when he pulled away.
Reinette was not so foolish as to think she won.
"Well, Jack. Have we argued our way into an appetite or would you still like to go driving?"
Reply
Her smile was warming, and it prompted a smile from him in return. A reaction almost reflex. He couldn't help it, he'd be foolish not to smile when on the receiving end of such a gaze.
The question prompted in his mind an immediate thought, and he knew best to push it away. If she was ill then the cold air was likely not best for her (and certainly not in the 18th Century. She could hardly go and take an asprin). But then to say as much would be to be saying something he didn't wish to. So instead, he nodded, twisted a slight smirk again.
"Oh I've always got an appetite."
Reply
Yes, that was definitely her laughter.
"I suppose the future is not as advanced as I thought."
She accepted his answer easily, as neither of them had breakfast that morning. Reinette supposed it spoke to a certain eagerness on her part to spend the day with Jack which she would have to examine later. After all, it was not all play acting and a determination to set the court on its ear.
She stepped away and felt the air rush in to fill between them as she smoothed her skirts and then offered him her arm.
"Shall I give you a tour of the kitchen's then?"
Reply
She moved, but he didn't allow her the distance to move completely. His hand lifted and caught her wrist as she shifted back, his fingers drifting to her hand to catch it that way.
"The kitchens so soon? Now that really is spoiling me," he grinned. "And, if I might say, playing with fire."
But he had the feeling she was an old hand at that.
Reply
She very consciously inserted herself into a space. She debated her varied options, considered reactions and then carefully chose as to maximize her desired result.
Jack on the other hand simply filled it. Consumed it even. He owned everything that came remotely close to him. Not just her hand. It was their conversation. It was her air. When she breathed, she breathed in him.
And while it was not an entirely unpleasant sensation, she also felt the urge to free herself. To go somewhere, anywhere and find fresh air to breath again. If only to center herself.
Playing with fire indeed.
"What," she managed with a relatively innocent expression. "It is only for eclairs."
Reply
On this occasion, he chose one distinctly silly.
"Yeah?" he said. "I bet you say that to all the boys."
And he grinned at her, took a step forward, and reached his free hand around to tap her on the behind, (or as well he could through layers of skirt).
"Tell me," he said, utterly serious. "Do they have cream? Because if they do. Oh you really do know the way to a man's heart."
Reply
"I suppose I should be thankful you did not pinch me. Careful, or I might retaliate."
It was a vague sort of promise that could be recalled later.
If her next words were more wicked than her expression made it less so as the ascended stairs. Reinette was laughing again.
"I did not think a heart was involved at all in that particular exchange."
Reply
"But I'll remember that," he nodded in reference to her retaliation. "I'll be disappointed if you don't."
Jack kept himself close as they walked. Their shared laughter would make it near impossible to believe the sharpness in the words they'd shared such a short time ago. But it was promising, he thought, that they could so easily slide from one to another, and not seem damaged because of it.
"Oh now!" He laughed. "Jeanne Antoinette, I think in you I may have met my match."
Reply
Strange she did not care nearly as much as before.
"Then I shall but great effort into determining the firm that retaliation shall take."
Reentering Versailles, she remained close to Jack. She would have liked a great deal to share the kitchen gardens with him -- s small idea for what was actually countless acres of land. But it was winter, and many of the plants were dormant and asleep.
Instead she lead Jack to a small blue sitting room that faced the morning sun. There was a sideboard there suitable for serving small meals. She ordered a breakfast to be delivered for them both, as well as the presence of her chef.
Reply
He walked with her, stayed with her, and he found he really didn't care where it was that they walked. He didn't care to bump into others (in fact he'd much prefer that they didn't). He simply cared for spending time with her.
In the new room he again stood himself gazing out of the window. He stared into the morning light as though he might find something in it, some sort of answer or explanation. But nothing was forthcoming; perhaps it was better that way.
As soon as she was done dealing with her staff, Jack shifted attention back to her and away from the window. "The chef so soon?" he asked, an eyebrow raised in suggestion.
Reply
Eventually the ease between them would have to be put away as the room again grew crowded. While she was very nearly certain she could trust Jack, the same could not be said for others.
For now, she smiled, enjoying the warmth of the windows against her exposed skin. She felt rather like a cat.
"Well, if you are going to leave me in a fit of passion for my servant, surely it is better to know sooner rather than later?"
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"Oh I think I'm all done with fits of passion," he said honestly, lowering his gaze a little.
Almost cautiously, he took a step forward, a little out of the light and a little into the room.
"It could be anywhere, this place," he said thoughtfully, "like a moment trapped in time."
Reply
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