When the charming and mysterious Baron Zemo enters your life without warning, you must learn how to balance the joys of an unexpected romance, and your love for the stage by meeting fate head on using the only tool you have; the gift of your voice...
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"Haven't you heard, he's come back?"
Incredible how quickly something as innocuous as tea can become dreadful. While you don't think they mean to be heard, and they certainly don't know that you are here, the three Ladies in the corner of the cafe at the end of the street have your full attention.
Brigitte looks up at you over the rim of her tea cup. You look down at your sandwich.
"Who?" Asks another voice from behind you. The sunlight coming through the large windows and green vines that climb the ceiling had been so promising...
"Lord Zemo!"
"Whatever for?"
"I suppose to apologize for leaving so quickly. Who leaves before the season is over" She says appalled. "Duke Arlington's daughter was beside herself."
You've never even heard the name before.
"Let's go." Brigitte suggests gently, but you shake your head no.
It is your first outing since leaving the hospital. You won't be forced to leave by gossip but then again, you should have known better, what happened that night is still the talk of the town.
"Well, I heard he's come back for the girl?"
"What girl?"
You grip your cup a little tighter, your jaw clenching as the scar throbs under the lace collar of your dress.
"The singer of course! Haven't you been keeping up?"
There is silence and you hope they are finished.
"Oh, the poor thing, she nearly died I heard! They almost cut her head off." Comes the girls heavy whisper.
"Well, one shouldn't play games with dangerous people. Probably a jealous lover or something like that."
"And to think there are rumors that the Baron would be coming back for her!"
You spin around and glare at them. All three of them sitting there, looking prim and proper in their little corner wearing their hats and dresses, drinking their tea, eating their cakes. If it wouldn't reduce you to the animal they assume you to be, you would rip the pretty cloth from the table and suffocate them with it.
When they notice you turned and glaring, one leans over to the other and whispers. That one jumps a little and hangs her head showing at least some sense of shame. The other —the bravest— stares back, daring you to say something.
For a moment you consider finishing your lunch and leaving in peace, but you are not the sort.
You stand getting the attention of the other guests in the cafe. Behind you Brigitte smiles, ready to follow your lead—fight or flee—she'll be there.
"As you can see, my head, is still firmly attached" Your voice is raw, like the sound of the still healing wound the blade has left your with. You use it in this moment as a weapon against their ignorant cruelty. "And that is more than I can say for yours if you ever speak of me again."
