Florence and Mr. Belmont

Chapter 9

"It looks like a little Curricle!" Adrienne exclaimed. She, Olivier and Arthur were sitting in the green brown drawing room, while the servants brought in the most intriguing object.

"The horses are only missing," Olivier added.

"It's called a wheelchair," Arthur proudly explained. "Or I should rather call it the chair of freedom. Now, Wilson, come here and help me."

Wilson, the younger of his two butlers, brought the wheelchair over and helped Arthur into it. After Wilson pushed him a couple of rounds around the drawing room, Arthur announced, "Now, my dears, get ready for the Westhill Musical. It is about time that Arthur Wimbleton faces society again!"

Adrienne and Olivier smiled and returned to their rooms in order to prepare for the evening. It was good to see Arthur in his good old spirits.

***

"How do I look?" Olivier asked Adrienne as they waited to enter the carriage. The servants were helping Arthur first.

Adrienne raised her eyebrows. She herself looked beautiful in her dark green gown with white silky gloves. "Since when do you care how you look? You were so sobbing when I dragged you to the dressmakers."

"Quoi? You're exaggerating."

"Ooooh. Is it about Miss Chatterley?" She nudged him gently with her elbow. "I saw how you were looking at her during Miss Alberton's engagement party. She is a fine mademoiselle."

Olivier only smiled. The truth was he couldn't even remember what he was talking about with Miss Chatterley. The only thing that was on his mind that evening was Florence. Somehow he knew this was wrong. He had a hundred reasons why he should stop thinking about her. He might have no clue about society, but it only made sense to leave an engaged woman alone. And yet, it felt so right. So good.

***

The first thing Olivier noticed was her. His heart leaped.

"Where are we sitting?" Olivier asked Adrienne. She looked at the small ticket in her hands. The spectacle room was crowded with all the noblest families from England. Wilson was ahead of them pushing Arthur in his wheelchair.

"I think it's B22," Adrienne replied.

"I will be back in a minute!"

Before Adrienne could protest Olivier already disappeared into the crowd.

***

Florence had just finished greeting Rose as she saw Olivier approaching. He had a marine blue suit on and his hair was pushed back. He looked handsome.

"Bonjour Mademoiselle," he teased.

"Bonjour Monsieur,"she teased back. Her smile was already too bright.

"You look beautiful tonight." As soon as Olivier said those words he blushed. Florence looked down at her evening dress. It was a simple, but very elegant, white silver gown. She was used to getting compliments. But she wasn't used to such blushes. It made it all sweeter.

"Thank you." For a moment she also blushed. After a moment of silence she said, "I have read Madame Moreau et le mystérieux Colonel."

"Have you? What do you think about the romance between Madame Moreau and the Colonel?"

"Oh, it was very romantic. Especially when she killed him." Florence placed a hand on her heart and rolled her eyes with a smile.

"Remember, you can never tell a book by its cover. Or in this case, by its title."

"Yes, good remark," she said pensively. "Recently I discovered that it is not only true with books."

"Hm?"

"We also judge people wrong."

Olivier did not say anything, so she continued, "you think you know someone. But then all of the sudden you realize that you were all along wrong."

He wanted to know who she had in mind. Someone had hurt her. Was it her fiance? Maybe a friend? Family? He reached out and gently squeezed her hand. It was just a tiny touch. God, he wanted to know everything about her. He wanted to spend hours with her talking about small and big things in life.

"Sometimes," Olivier began, "I wish that we would met in another life."

She looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he hesitated, "I mean if we would have met under other circumstances. Another place. Another time. Maybe our life would be different."

He didn't need to say it out loud. Florence knew exactly what he meant. And the worst part was she agreed with him completely. A tear started to build up in her eye, as she noticed Lady Rutland. Staring straight at them. Florence quickly took a step back. They needed proper distance.

Olivier looked around, "So where is your Lord Madbury?"

"It's Mackelbury," she rolled her eyes. "I don't know. He should be here by now."

"Is he not afraid?"

"Of what?"

Olivier leaned closer and whispered "Someone might steal you from him." He put on his most wicked smile, bowed and left her alone. Florence had not noticed that the music had already started and almost everybody was seated.