His arrival in town was to be a secret. There was no reason to divert the politics of the gathering, or even the conviviality of it all. The festival's key: a celebration for mortals, a party for Kindred, a time to relax and share in the commonalities, and yes, fine, a time for political friends and associates to reconnect. Nothing wrong with it all, really.
     And so, the arrival of the Prince of Tours, the domain closest to, and informally including, Chinon, could be seen a variety of ways. Moving the light from the celebration of life, undeath, wine, and William Plantagenet - let's be honest here - to something far less fun, frankly. Something Raymond Marillet would not want.
     The message sent to the heriditary keeper of the Vienne was rather simple: I'll be in town for a night, just as myself. Care for a drink or two?
     Ask and ye shall be scheduled. Raymond drove to Chinon with Sebastian in tow, covering the thirty kilometers in less than a half-hour. That's one of the pluses. Instead of heading to the castle and the guests there, Raymond opted to park in the alley of the Rue Voltaire, near the wine bar of Aelinor's and the Thirty Years' restaurant. Sebastian was allowed to explore the town, while Raymond tended to his social call.
     It's not as if anyone here really knows him. Raymond's visits to Chinon have always been private and quick. Visiting a friend. Meeting his mistress. Having a dinner and night out. So in many ways, tonight's visit is much like the others, despite the festival.
     "I'd ask," Raymond says, his native tongue more like a purr, "...how you got here before me, thank you," he says to the hostess who seats him with tonight's companion, "...but then that'd be silly." Raymond smiles, unbuttoning his jacket with one hand, while extending the other across the white-linened table. "Good to see you, William. You look marvelous," Raymond observes.

     The ville of Chinon, a flower in the cap of Old Poitou, now Touraine to be sure, was laid out in true banqueting style. The bonfires still burn on the surrounding hills, the smell of grape leaves and wine, cheese and bread so permeate the air that they adhere on the very molecules of air, changing it. Sebastian is likely dancing in the street, drinking a little wine and a lot of coffee and finding his own mistress (for the moment). Tango happens, music happens, the festival is preparing for its biggest night.
     When the message was received, of course he would go. Guests were seen to, left in the good hands of his partner, poets and musicians, vampires and others already mingling again. The great vats were rolled onto the Milieu lawn and the Marie Javelle rings not only the hour but the timbre and the mood, bright peeling sound, like the laughter in the castle and the streets.
     "I have a bed in the back," William says warmly as he stands, smiling in greeting -- he'll forgo the kissing across the table. His hand comes out, a warm clasp made and given. "Merci," he says for the compliment. "Et vous...it is good to see you again. Something other than wine?" Sacrilege! William chuckles and retakes his seat. He already has a glass of Chinon going, and there is a bottle of Chinon on the table, swathed in a linen cloth.
     The hereditary keeper of the Vienne is yet dressed in a suit -- he'll be dressed in wine come midnight. It is marvelously constructed, some Parisian wonder that. Gone the beard and the 12th and 20th Century sloth. In with the new, yes? With the new millennium. In this lighting, with the cabernet color of the walls, the indigo eyes take on more of a violet.

     "No, no, wine is always good, though," Raymond thinks better, "...a bit of something in it wouldn't be dismissed." He can imagine that you could handle such arrangements here. If it were in Tours, he could. Raymond smiles, settling into his seat perpendicular to the table, allowing his back to settle against the wall.
     "Things look excellent," Raymond observes, looking at the others in the space. He, too, likes people-watching. "The village is packed," Raymond smiles. Nice to have lots visiting. "You can't get a room here, I've heard. So, I am keeping a few for you, in Tours. I think Miranda," his secretary, "...has mentioned finding guesthouses in the area for some visitors."

     William is a part of his village, not distinct or separate from it. He walks its streets, he eats at its restaurants, he watches the lives of the people. It is more than just economy. It is something he delights in, something he would not trade, something that always compelled him to take a position such as yours.
     Now, he has all the pleasure with much less of the work and a ton of enjoyment. There are no vampires to lord over. The peace is kept and he walks and lives among it.
     "And in Panzoult and Bouchard," he confirms with a nod. "I started to rent the castle out and stay in Tours myself," William finishes in a murmur and with a laugh.
     A young woman, blonde hair, must be in her mid-twenties, comes out -- she was called -- all smiles. She looks to Raymond: "Bonsoir," she says looking between you and then lastly to William: "Est-ce que tout est bien? Plus de vin?"
     There is a subtext to the look and even to the words: "Oui, un autre verre de Chinon," modern French rolls off his tongue, from that mouth, with that smile, and straight to the young woman's heart. "Apportez Domaine du Leon... " A special vintage so expensive, so rare, the Domaine so particular...
     The young woman doesn't blanch but she smiles to excess. "Mais oui, Monsieur d'Angevin." She parts ways with you after another smile to Raymond.
     "I think you will find that Domaine to your liking." There is a quirk of his mouth. It is a ghost Domaine. A winery that does not exist, per se, but that seems to produce bottles nonetheless. There are those who don't let a silly thing like existence stand in the way of production.
     "It is quite the frenzy this year. I haven't attended one myself in a long time now. I am going to be changing that." More time in the Valley for him, it seems. "Did you enjoy your trip?" Yes, he knows you traveled. He's just not going to be rude and ask about it so directly. It's none of his business.
     Really.

     Trip? Oh.
     Raymond nods, returning to the conversation after letting his eyes wander with the departing girl. Perhaps he can't help himself. "I hope she handles my pouring directly." Raymond smirks and then begins to respond.
     "Yes, it was a nice rest. The area's lovely this time of year, and the tourists are mostly gone. So, the caves were enjoyable and things were almost back to normal in Aubergine." That means better pastries and snacks.

     He's seen the girl. Frequently. His eyes glance over her as she leaves, but is quick to return to something a bit more interesting. The other inhabitants of the wine bar, few as they are with the limited seating, and, naturally, Tours.
     That makes him laugh, quietly -- as is his usual way unless Dunross really tickles him with humor. Or Davydd. Or Edward. He's not going to mention Victoria's plentiful phone calls -- she really needs to not do that while a man is trying to figure he out or get her into bed -- or anything else about it. He knew you were there. She called him every night.
     Practically...
     "It's good for the countryside," tourism, "... even though it comes with its own pains. If they forget about us," as if they would, "... we would die like untended vines..."
     The girl returns not with a bottle of the Domaine de Leon, but with a glass. There are patterns in the glass, the patterns that two liquids make when determining whether to fuse together. She smiles. Behind her, another waitress is bringing a selection of goat cheese-rosemary-and olive oil and fresh fruit. The items are set upon the table silently, the young woman leaning past Raymond to do arrange things as they ought to be. She smiles at him, at William, and then says to you both: "Faites-moi savoir s'il y a toute autre chose que je peux faire pour vous." And with that, leaves.
     William is already grinning. He watches her go, then looks to you with upraised brows. "Chinon has changed for the better in the last few years," the look smoothens somewhat, "...with the ville so prosperous, many of its lovely children are deciding to stay, rather than to go to the big cities," oh, sorry, one of them is now yours. Ah well, it is good for the region.
     "I have never been to the caves," William admits with a half-wince. He settles back in his chair, wine in his hand, he considers drinking and swirls the liquid in the glass with idle thoughts.

     "It is," Raymond agrees. His attention recedes a little - as a good vampire will - when his favorite drink is set before him. There's nothing said to the girl, just a bit more staring and the lifting of his glass. An approving nod of his head in her direction.
     He seems to sigh.
     "You should visit the caves," Raymond recommends, sitting back against the wall again. "It's like Mt. Everest or..." he smiles, "...walking all the arondissments." It's a rite of passage. Or something. Raymond grins and takes the first taste of his glass. With it, he becomes even more relaxed.
     "I have to ask you something, William," Raymond chirps, leaning on the table with an elbow now. "What is it that you have on Victoria Gifford or her Sire?" he smirks. "A boon enormous? You...saved their lives? You helped her gain status, hmm? You can tell me, I will not repeat it."

     "I will have to take Ian there some time," he notes with a nod. His drink is simply wine, from one of the neighboring domaines. Something from five years ago. He holds it as much as anything. To watch it move against the glass. He's not a Toreador that he should have such reverie, but he is an artist. Colors and light have their appeal for him as well. He takes a swallow after a time. "When we are here," France, "... we tend to go between Chinon and Chenonceau. I need to go to Paris at some point." An exhale for that. "But... first on the list, mais oui, will be the caves."
     As you speak of Victoria Gifford, the smile returns. William chuckles when you say saved their lives. In a manner of speaking, perhaps. He lifts his glass to take a swallow through the smile and then settles back in his chair, all looks to you. "There is nothing to repeat," he says warmly, "... she was one of the ... Family in the small city I was leading prior to my grand return home. Why do you ask?" He can't wait to hear this. "She is young and impressionable," he says in mock defense of his own behavior.
     As if that's the first time he's said that.

     Raymond seems to take the assessment on face value. He believes it. "I ask," he goes on, "...because your name came up a few times during the visit in Aubergine. She passed on your message," Raymond making sure she gets her credit, "...about me visiting Chinon. But," he shrugs, "...she just mentioned you a few times."
     "I'm glad I invited her to the caves. She's a nice..." girl, woman, "...girl. So, I was glad to play tourguide, since I was at Lascaux already."

     "I think that is the voice of inexperience," William offers. "She must have been nervous, she called me twice. She is a nice girl," he uses the word too, "... but she is difficult to figure out sometimes. I think maybe it is an education issue. Like not talking about another man when out for an evening with someone else." His lips quirk at that. "I only asked that she extend an invitation, which thank you for accepting," a nod to you, "...but," a chuckle, "... I did not expect to be a topic of focused conversation."
     William shakes his head with a short sigh. What to do about her. "American women are very strange creatures, Raymond. They are on the one hand very self-sufficient and independent and yet on the other hand are largely dependent, lacking in self-worth and uneducated in the... how shall we say.... more social of the life skills. They build themselves up so we will believe they are strong, and then they don't know what to wear to dinner." A pause. "Or what to do with their hands. They are all like convent girls pretending to be princesses."
     William looks to you directly, setting his largely empty glass aside. "But there is nothing between us apart from her work with Ian and my efforts to show her that there is more to life than business and medicine. She has interests in other things. I think she could do with... being in another part of the world. One where a woman can be beautiful and strong. Simultaneously."
     William grins suddenly. "I am sorry. That was a very long answer to your question. I sound like her father," he laments.

     That was far more than he wished or expected. Raymond takes another swallow from his glass, his jaw angling slightly. What to say, what to say...
     "She's a nice girl," is all that Raymond manages to come up with. No comments on his thoughts, plans, or even why he asked her to the caves. "She doesn't appear to have many friends, though. She's been travelling alone?" Strange, that.
     Raymond exhales and sits up a little. The glass is set on the table, his fingers ballooning over the rim. "I hope she has a nice time here before heading back to America."

     "No, not many," William confirms quietly. "I hope she does as well," enjoy her time that is. "I have suggested to her that she stay on here for a while. But I believe she will have to return to America," and, yes, to him it is a 'have to', "... before too long. I do not know how much longer she will be here. I saw her briefly last night, she's staying at Chinon," the castle.
     "Ah, so is Genevieve and Sandrine," Toreador women, "...if you would wish them to know that you are here, I would be happy to carry the message..."

     Brows arch and Raymond nods. "Please do," he smiles. "I think...I will only be here the night. I may leave..." a twist of his wrist to his watch, "...maybe about 4?" AM, that is.
     Another long drink is taken from the glass. Already, the weight of the crystal leaves an impression in the white linen.
     "You said something..." Raymond frowns. "That she was nervous." A blink and a frown, "Why?" What did she think was happening. "I just asked her to the caves as I was there...and mostly to exchange gifts as we'd discussed in Scotland..."

     "What woman is not nervous when meeting with a handsome man of some position and influence? Even if it is to the library?" William smiles at you. "She did not say that she was nervous. I merely inferred that. From the frequency of the calls and ...her talking about me while out with you..."
     "Also, as I said, she has not been in Europe very frequently or for very long durations. If I were a young woman," he grins, "I would have been nervous meeting the princeps of Tours under any pretense." A pause. "Well, maybe not. If I were a woman, we all know the sort of woman I'd be," he chuckles at that.

     "I'm sure she has met princes, William," Raymond shakes his head. "She is patronized by two of them. I am certain she knows others. In this rarefied air? Come..." No, he's not buying that at all. "She had no problem in Scotland at the show, where there were multiple princes and primogen. A world of titles."
     Raymond stares at his table companion a moment.
     "Why are you making that up, William? And she called you..." now he's frowning. No, no, he doesn't like this at all. If she, having grown up around titles, is suddenly naive, well, Raymond's not sure what to think.
     "She is bright, William. And I do not care what sort of woman you would be," Raymond grins at the idea, "...you would not have been...like she was."

     "You think I am not being honest. I am telling you what I think. She is young and she is sheltered. She is prone to awkardness. And... certainment... she has met princes. I scared the beejesus out of her when she met me. And," he notes, raising a finger to emphasize a point, "...when I first met her I thought she was... well... like any other Ventrue woman I had met: prone to keep secrets, daggers and to attempt to manipulate men. It took me a while, I must admit, to see the truth of it. Which is... she is younger than she should be and was largely sheltered by those who raised her. As for Scotland..."
     "... did you notice that until she was with you she stayed near Ian and myself? Sure, we took pains to introduce her, we do not believe in sheltering anyone," he smirks, "...she was with us, or with you. I said she was nervous. I didn't say incapacitated. And you are right, Raymond, she is bright. She is as they say book smart..." Life ... well, she needs to get out more.
     At the grin, you find it coupled by one of his own. "It is a frightening thought, I suggest we do not linger on it," him as a woman. Wasn't that Aelinor? William smirks and then shrugs. "I do not know what to make of it anymore than you," he pours himself another glass. "I am unbelieving that she spoke so much of me. I could have dated you myself and had more fun..."

     There's discomfort from the other side of the table. Raymond exhales and finishes off his drink. Disease, dismay. How did this conversation get to this point?
     "She didn't talk about you so much," Raymond says. "Just your name came up a few times. I guessed that she owed you a boon or she felt some indebtedness. Maybe not. My point was to say that if she did, that it was unfortunate that such debt is on her mind."

     He isn't a mindreader, but he can tell this has taken a turn. "She doesn't owe me anything. I don't play the boon game," William murmurs. "I thought you were joking, Raymond." You're serious. William exhales. "No... the girl owes me nothing, but since I have unpacked her existence on the table I suppose I owe her a little something now. But... as for me... as I said, there is no debt. What opinions she has as hers. Her life is hers. I am one of the ones who certainly wishes her well."
     But I am not her father. And I am not her brother. And I am not responsible for her success or her failure.
     "I am glad it was not so much as all that, not that any of it," hands gesticulate that point, "... is my business. You ask, I give. If I gave too much, I will apologize."

     "I wasn't looking for a diagnosis," Raymond smirks. "Now, I know too much." He shakes his head, his brows arching. "Ah well. Maybe I will leave the paperweights with you for her," Raymond states.

     Yeah, well. Now William is frowning. He thinks to say No about the paperweights. But you are his prince, by extension of territory. William nods once, "I would be happy to do so, if you wish. Of course."
     He is now off his feed, whatever feed he had before. He sets his glass on the table, the second may not be finished. "I am sorry, Raymond. I should not have provided one. As you can see, no doubt, she has been on my mind lately." He settles back, fingers lacing on his suited stomach.

     "Yes," Raymond grins knowingly, "...that I do see." Why, he does not ask. But you've spent much time on this, far more than he has wished and ever would.
     "You're trying to find someone appropriate for her," Raymond states, realizing it now. He exhales, having a better picture. "You want her to stay in Europe, you want her to find someone appropriate where you believe she should be. You want someone to show her things. Educate her." In a variety of topics.
     "And if I guess correctly, you think that I am the best candidate for this."
     "Now, I get...her strangeness. She was..." Raymond peers, "...trying to do what you wanted, expected. She does," as the explanation came earlier, "...what she thinks her family thinks she should do or what they expect her to be and know..."
     Not Maximilian. But another, much closer.

     However placid his expression, you can see a glimmer, perhaps, of hitting-the-nail-on-the-head in his eyes. Your knowing smile is met with a knowing look. At length, William nods slowly, a smile smoothening its way across his mouth. He is not going to take anything away from that, or discuss it in detail. He ... does want more for Victoria. He does want her to succeed. To do well.
     And she does need education...and a man who can truly show her something...
     "I had not gone so far as to make a list, Raymond," William murmurs. "But if one were to think of such, one could do much worse than the current Prince of Tours." A pause. "The former Prince of Tours, for starters." A chuckle at himself.
     "Though, I certainly didn't mean to speak for my prince or tend to his 'dance card'. When she called, I merely provided my usual encouragement to her."

     Raymond exhales. He's frustrated, but not upset. Just...it's more subtle game-playing than he'd expect. He only meant to fulfill his end of a conversation in Scotland a few months ago. We'll visit, exchange baubles.
     "She will do what you say, William," Raymond says, in case it wasn't so obvious. "Whatever you say. She will go to Europe," his hand waves left, "...she will work in America," hand waves right. Raymond shakes his head in dismay. "You said yourself, if she was not with you and Ian, she was with me in Scotland."
     "That's not what I want, William." Not that kind of woman.
     "And she has another man," Raymond shrugs, a bit aghast, "...that she used to wear a ring for?" No, no. Sounds too complex now. "A girl who needs men. Attaches to them."
     There's a look through his lashes to his tablemate. "She will do whatever you say, William." A state that bothers him. "Right now, that is all she knows, I think." In truth, it's you and Ian who have a small problem.

     Well, this is not the sort of visit he was anticipating. An eyebrow lifts. "She will have to grow out of that," is all he says, his voice quietly borne. "For it is not something we have imposed on her. We are not her parents. But... I have heard you," he murmurs. "And your concern."
     Whether they are grounded or not...
     How he wishes the two of you had talked about something else. "Yes, she had a man in her life at one time. Someone from America. I do not know what is happening there..." That's not a lie: he really doesn't know.
     He is not going to say how it seems you are trying to talk yourself out of something, or into something. But why is the universe so suddenly concerned with Victoria Gifford. This, he does not get. Why is she calling. Why are others asking me questions about her. Why is she talking about me to other people.

     There's a slight shrug from Raymond. It's alright, no matter. He smiles though, and looks at his emptied glass. "Now, you are dismayed," Raymond observes. "Apparently, we both are. For some reason." He laughs slightly and exhales, leaning back against the wall.

     Suddenly there is a smile, warmth back on the Poitevin expression. "Women," William murmurs. "This is why I no longer bother."

     There's a sudden smile on Raymond's lips as he looks absently across the room. "Yes, well. Maybe I should do the same," he grins. "But..." it won't happen. He knows it. "It's why I...well...stay without them." Or anyone else for that matter. Too complex.

      Humor returned! Amusement lingers in the blue-violet eyes, upon the upward curve of lips. "I have never been happier since I bid adieu to women. Of course," William smirks now, "...maybe retirement has something to do with that, mais oui. Life is not very complicated in Chinon." Versus Poitiers, Tours and America. You do not want to hear about his sex life, he is sure, so he'll keep the 'exclusive company of men' business to himself.
     "Ah, but you should not listen to such an old married man," William grins, "... it is easy to sacrifice women when I have a full bed..." He rolls broad shoulders in a kind of shrug. "I am sure you will have no trouble. And, if nothing else," William chuckles, "...you have my number..."

     Raymond's nose turns up slightly, a grimace. He turns to look across the table, ending his fascination with the opposite wall. "Thank you, William," sarcasm there, "...you're a gentleman and friend."
     Raymond exhales, letting his hand drop to the table. "Well. I think I need dinner now." After all of that. Another look to the watch. "I may mill around the procession, but not much more than that. Say hello to a few. Then, I'll head home." So you know what the prince in the ville will do.
     "I will have Sebastian bring you the gifts for Miss Gifford. Please give her my regrets that I could not stay to see her personally. Business."
     "Do you mind?" Raymond asks, waving a hand generally. As if meaning the city. He has to find dinner somewhere, and it is polite to ask.

     There was an equally humored bow of William's head as if to say: why naturally and you're very welcome.
     William glances at his own watch, eyebrows lifting. "I have to get ready myself. Wine bathing begins in a few hours..." Dare you ask?
     William looks to you across the table and smiles. "Of course not," he waves likewise. "Enjoy yourself. Sebastian?" That must be your companion. "...can drop the gifts off at the castle. I doubt they will be able to find me tonight. I'll be in the procession," himself, even! "... but Eros Foury will be happy to take them in my stead and even deliver them to her for you." William rises. That way, I am out of it.
     "It was a pleasure to see you, Raymond. Enjoy the ville. Next time, we talk about other things, yes? I want to hear about Tours and how you are finding the city. Ah... and about the renovations to the cathedral..."

     "Thank you, William," Raymond says officially, standing up. "And for the drink, hmm?"
     Raymond Marillet grins and extends his hand across the table a last time. "I hope the rest of the festival goes as splendidly as it seems. Maybe we should have more festivals in Tours," he winks. "Maybe one when the restorations are done," Raymond's finger waves.

     The clasp is an easy one of friendship. He smiles at the notion of festivals in Tours. Shall it be up to this region again to bring color and life back into France, a revival? Should we? "Am I allowed to vote?"
     William Plantagenet... of all people... supporter of democracy?
     He does not expect an answer to that other than laughter and he proceeds to the nearby door, a pat left upon your shoulder. He does like you, Raymond Marillet. For what that's worth.
     With a swing of the door, he holds it open for you. A gesture for you to go out before him.

Posted by rowan at November 02, 2003 02:30 PM