Florence and Mr. Belmont

Chapter 15

The next day a letter from Olivier arrived. Just as promised.

Dear Florence,

The hypothesis is confirmed. The bookseller's employee is indeed Samuel Smith. Additionally the bookseller had confirmed that he was seeing a maid regularly. He had never seen this maid himself but Samuel often talked about her. He had also given me the address of Samuel's family home. It's at Wood Road in Caterham. It is apparently a one hour carriage drive away from London. Let me know if you find Mary.

yours truly,

Olivier

On one side Florence was happy to be a step closer to finding Mary. At the other she wanted to scrunch up the letter and throw it at Olivier's head. What was he thinking? Should she really believe him that he is from an orphanage? She had never met any orphan in her life, but she imagined that orphans, well, she didn't know what to imagine but surely not growing up with rich and entitled people. Yes, Olivier is different. He likes to ignore the rules and live in his own world. But, surely that must have another explanation. And she would find out the truth. She shuffled the thought of Mary aside and started to get ready to leave. She would not give up.

***

"Don't you think, Adrienne, that we could soon leave London? Arthur se sent déjà mieux."

Olivier and Adrienne were sitting in the blue drawing room drinking their afternoon tea. Arthur was out seeing Lucinda, so there were only the two of them.

"Qui, you are right," Adrienne took a sip of her tea. "Arthur is feeling much better. And he apparently has good company. But I dread the long travel back. It had taken us almost a week to get here. We can also delay it for a couple of weeks. I am sure Arthur was nothing against us."

"We will have to get home sooner or later," Olivier shrugged. "Besides, I miss the sea. And our house. And the warmer climate. It rains so often here in London. And you surely miss your dear friends Mariette and Alice. And our dear neighbor monsieur Mathieu," he teased.

"I don't miss our neighbor!" She instantly protested.

"No, no, you are right. I had only imagined the three letters from him."

"Were you looking through my correspondences?"

"I assure you, it was an accident,"

Suddenly Wilson, the butler, came into the room. "There is a visitor for you, Mr. Belmont."

Olivier and Adrienne exchanged a look. The only visitors that came to the Alberton House were George Tomwick and Lucinda Hamington. And even then they were always seeing Arthur, not Olivier.

"Who is it?" Olivier asked.

"It is Miss Alberton," the butler answered firmly. "Should I tell her to come another time?"

"Yes, tell her that I am busy. Thank-"

"You are not busy," Adrienne interrupted. "Wilson, let the young lady please in. I will take my leave." And off she was. Olivier wanted to protest but before you could speak a word Wilson was already out of sight. Does he always have to be so quick?

Adrienne left while Florence came in.

"Good day, Miss Alberton," Olivier tried to sound as normal as possible. Like nothing happened. Florence was a smart woman and she surely would get his clues.

"Good day, we need to talk." She seated herself across from him and looked accusingly at him. He almost felt like he had done something wrong.

"Did you find Mary?"

"No, I am not here to talk about Mary. I want to know the truth."

"What truth?"

"The truth, why do you supposedly fall in love with me and then you don't ever want to see me again. This doesn't make sense. And don't tell me about the orphanage. I am not a fool."

Olivier blinked. He had told her the naked truth and this was what he was getting for? Oh woman...

"No, you are not a fool," Olivier crossed his arms and leaned back. "I should probably take it as a compliment that you don't believe. But it is the truth. I am from an orphanage. This is not a joke or an excuse or whatsoever."

It was now her time to blink with a slightly dropped jaw. "What?!" She gasped. She was out of words.

"I know this is a bit strange and hard to believe. But my parents died when I was really young. In fact I cannot even remember my parents. Then I lived with my old neighbor. But she also got sick and she brought me to the orphanage. When I was about ten years old a very kind couple had allowed me to go and live with them. They had raised me as their own child. And that is the truth."

"I am sorry," Florence said in a quiet voice. "I was not expecting this." Olivier looked at her with a sad smile and took her hand.

"I cannot offer you anything. I am no one."

"No, don't say that," she protested immediately. "You are amazing. Funny. Always creative. Never fearful. Don't say you are no one. Because that is not true."

He looked down at their intertwined fingers.

"You don't need to offer me anything," she continued. "I don't care about the money. I don't care where you are from. Where you have lived. How you look. I care about who you are."

"No, Florence," he shook his head. "You think you don't care. But what will be in five, ten or twenty years? We are so different. You were born to be a Countess, Duchess or whatever they are called. You deserve it. I, on the other hand, was never destined to have such a future. In fact, once I am back in France, I will go to work. Maybe I will live in the quiet countryside. I don't know where the wind will bring me."

"Olivier, I don't want this life! Most of the time my life feels like a stupid theater spectacle. Everybody plays just a role. Nothing is real. But titles and money are not everything. And you know that already."

Olivier couldn't say a single word. He knew money couldn't offer happiness. That was truth. But one cannot live from air and love. This is life, not a fairytale. But Florence deserved the best. Not to mention that her parents would never ever allow her to marry someone like him.

"I think you should go," Olivier said finally with his last energy. He stood up and walked to the window. He didn't dare to look at her.

After a few silent moments Florence said, "One day you will see your mistake. But then it might be too late." and then she walked out of the room.