☸THE NIGHT I MET YOU
My dear Duchess,
It's your eyes that caught me.
Your lips that amazed me.
Your words, fazed me.
I shall never forget the moment….
~✒~
10998, 1st June.
Inkland, Swindon night.
The rain poured.
Two figures walked on the wet streets. The steady patter of water against their raincoats long faded to a dull rush in the back of their minds.
"Why in the blazes of hell did it have to pour tonight?"
Jimin tipped his black umbrella to shelter the young duchess.
"It's quite translucent that you shouldn't be here. Your mother will not hesitate to shoot an arrow through your skull if she discovered your outrageous deeds." Jimin stated.
Cloire scoffed. "Well I'll be damned."
They rounded up a corner coming front to front with the Forbidden Library. To expound on the name, women were prohibited in this specific library.
It has been the tittle-tattle of the city lately. It is whispered that heinous acts had been planned. Mysterious murders had made the headlines ever since the library was constructed, abrupt closing of businesses and the most intriguing of all, at least to Cloire, is the powerful business men that spawned from nowhere.
Nothing happens out of nowhere.
Cloire believed she found the source of their success.
She wanted part.
"Hurry on out if you don't want to be caught." Jimin advised ascending the stairs behind her and stuffing a bag behind a whitewashed pillar. "I'll prepare the carriage for you."
"Go on ahead." She dismissed. "But before you leave..." Her cheeks faintly tainted a pink colour. She looked at Jimin before giving him her back. "Is my rump too generous?"
Jimin chocked, not sure where to direct his eyes. "You look manly enough my lady." He assured.
She smiled not feeling convinced but she had no choice but to believe she pulled it off. She adjusted her black top hat, assuring that her hair was well tucked under it. She tied a lavender handkerchief over her nose.
With a hunched back, she approached the door.
┉┈◈♛◈┈┉
The ambience was silent. The gentle flip sounds of pages whisked the air accompanied by soft male murmurs. Scented candles sat on every corner of the room and a generous amount of it on tables both lit and unlit.
As she walked, a few eyes turned to her making her hold her breath simultaneously pulling at her suit. She made eye contact with a number of them and one held her gaze.
What a creep!
"My ass is too big." She tugged at her tailcoat, quickening her pace to the gentleman she had come for.
She saw him. His build firm and tall. A book in his black-gloved hand. A candle flame highlighted the upper half of his face.
Simultaneously tipping her hat over her eyes, she pulled out a chair, grabbing his attention. The book in his hand closed shut with a soft thud.
"Mr Grey?"
"Mr K." She raised a finger to her nose, trying to deepen her voice in efforts of making it convincingly manly as she could. Her eyes did a once over, analyzing his tailored coat, his rich cotton black gloves. The black shirt underneath that was made of fine silk—silk that she only came by the palace grounds in Kingstone, the heart of Swindon where the queen resided. The black slacks were of rich cotton and the shoes…
She wasn't sure. The small golden logo was unfamiliar and definitely new in the market. And with that she branded him as new money.
Eyes swept up to his face. What were those above his eyebrows? and ears? Staple pins? Designed staple pins? She internally winced.
He stuck out his arm exhibiting a Piaget Emperador Cushion watch.
Cloire sucked in air.
That must've cost more than three-hundred-thousand gold coins.
Her entire bed didn't even sniff close to such an amount.
Her eyes slid to the two envelopes between them. One with her fake name—Mr.Grey, the other, plain and scented with the words 'extremely confidential.'
Her target.
She must have been lost in her thoughts for long for Jungkook retreated his hand.
"Permit me to skip the pleasantries. I am afraid I have an appointment in a few."
"Ah~ of course. Thank you for sparing me your time." Cloire responded aiming to be attentive.
He leaned forward, his dark eyes raking over her slopped boring hat. She couldn't read the face behind his mask thus she guessed he didn't like her crinkled button up shirt. That's one thing they had in common. It was all for business. Humility was such an admirable virtue.
"As you well know, I sell all over Swindon so we are thinking in terms of pretty large consignments.How much space does it have?”
Cloire's feet felt giddy. She was talking about business with a man. A man was talking business with her. Not seeking marriage but talking about business! And the business centered around her ship that she had been designing. She wasn't expecting him to like it, she never came by anyone who liked her work apart from one that caught the queen's eye and thought it was a good idea to use it for a trivial battle and it came back in shreds and tatters. It wasn't even two weeks old. Jimin claimed he adored her designs albeit he could never make sense of them no matter how long he stared at them.
This was just the best day of her life. Act normal. Be normal.
“The space?” She blinked, her throat felt perched. “The space is…spacious.”
“How spacious?”
She crossed her legs then man spread them seconds later, feeling empty and incompetent. She had mastered this for a week. Replayed this conversation for over a month, written out responses for various questions. Her heart squeezed.
“It’s big. I mean big big. It can carry um…" The words withered in her mouth.
Mr K held her gaze for a gawdawful minute, she wanted to disappear into the darkness.
“Do you have a reference with you?” he asked.
“Yes!” Cloire almost jumped out of her chair. “Yes, I do.” Her hands dug her rusty coat pocket flourishing neatly folded parchments.
“Allow me.” Mr K unfolded them, prodded his fingers on the dark ink, analyzed, slowly bobbed his head his eyes as vacant as a can sleeping on the lonely floors of the sea.
Nerve-wrecking to Cloire.
“Not bad.” He commented after what felt like eternity.
“Pardon me?” Not bad? Not bad? What on earth was that supposed to mean? Cloire cocked a brow.
".....Your ways are quite..” He trailed off in a soft hum, a pair of incoherent words tumbling out. “... but workable."
"I'll take that as a compliment." She tipped her hat. Uncertain of how to feel. Was her design bad? Plain? Boring? Were the measurements unattainable? She was ready for another reject. For the past three months she sent him parcels of her designs at the bottom, a small letter of adoration and appreciation.
She mustered alot of effort not to be embarrassing.
She was, not that the author would let her know that. Fortunately or unfortunately, Jungkook never knew of their existence.
"I'll make the deposit on Tuesday. If you could leave your signature over here." Jungkook passed her a sheet of parchment, white as milk, lighter than the rich textured parchments she had in her study.
She resembled a happy puppy as she straightened up, eyes meeting Jungkook’s with innocent bliss. “Really? You’re not pulling at my tail, are you? You really like it?”
Infatuated. Cloire was deeply infatuated with his talents, his way of thinking. If only she was close enough to inhale his brain. Soak everything in and be one with him…his talents to be specific.
In holy matrimony….
He smiled, relishing the joy of watching another young, unaccomplished fellow achieve his goals, glad that he contributed to such a magnificent sensation.
“I like it. It’s creative. Quite refreshing at an angle. I like it. Now would you please—” He pushed the parchment further infront her. "—sign here and here.”
She eyed the black pen, the upper quarter half coated in gold, with a small rounded nib that poised between his fingers.
It’s a secret,that was the first time seeing such a pen. A pen that was naked from its feathers. She cupped a hand before her lips unmindful of his clouding eyes and the suspicious cock of his brow.
The pen sat on her fingertips,cold and light. She scribbled a foreign signature. Her own business signature. She could faint.
Mr. K stretched out his hand and Cloire's mind slipped into panic mode.
She timidly snuck out her arm for the first time, insecure of her small hands. His hand easily swallowed hers in a grip. Warm and firm. "Pleasure doing business with you."
"Seriously?" She snapped her eyes at him before quickly lowering them once again.
“Sincerely." His warmth detached from her.
"Likewise." An abashed smile etched behind her handkerchief. "Enjoy the rest of your night Mr. K." I'm sorry.
"Enjoy your night as well Mr. Grey."
┉┈◈♛◈┈┉
Cloire beamed, eyes twinkling in delight.
She did it! She finally did it!
Stole the envelope that she wasn't supposed to and got out of there with a deal. Alive! How great is that? She even got complimented. Hehe.
"Psht! Can't wait to slap this on Jimin's face"
She was going to find out what exactly made Mr. K so successful. Selling mackintoshes, designing and building water vessels wasn't the only thing that made him a powerful businessman that walked around with items worth half a million of gold coins. Who would believe that? She admired him, she wanted to beat him or at least reach his level in terms of business.
Mr. K was intelligent and cunning but Cloire thought herself more cunning. She managed to get hold of him, glimpse at his schedule, fake her identity, and avoid numbers of marriages. Yes, she was definitely more of a fox than he was.
She stuffed the envelope in her bag—that Jimin had left behind the pillar— and looked at the almost empty streets. Jimin was to appear anytime from now.
She took out her pocket watch. Fifteen minutes had flown by and still no sign of him. The cold gnawed at her skin igniting the memory of the warmth cozied up in the library.
"CURSES!"
That was her cue for her plan B to come to play. She clutched tighter on the bag.
“Find the bloody bastard he stole my papers dammit!”
She could faintly hear some men respond, "Yes sir." Before she heard the heavy stomping of boots.
Tap tap tap. Cloire's feet made contact with the wet slippery ground. The fabric that hugged her frame seemed to weigh a tonne as it soaked the raindrops. The cold air pinched her ears red and soon, a solid silhouette of a man was hot on her trail.
"Damn you Jimin!" She hissed.
"Oi! Stop right there young man!" This was another voice, much deeper. Cloire branched almost losing her balance and kissing a gargoyle statue. She took another turn and another and barged into another library.To her delight, it was empty. Maybe with one or two individuals that hid behind a shelf somewhere.
She rushed to a shelf veiled in the shadows in a corner,opened her bag and took out the dark orchid dress that Jennie had lent her. It didn’t require a metal hoop underneath and Cloire was beyond grateful for Jennie's remarkable sewing skills. May she be the best dressmaker in Swindon.
She took off her coat, her fingers worked competently through the buttons of her shirt. She began slipping into her dress, again grateful that no corset threatened to squeeze the life out of her.
The dress flowed down her legs. She then threw her arms back, knocking her hat off in the process of looking for the zip.
Once more, thankful for no laces.
Her dark hair smoothly tumbled down past her shoulders, the edges brushing above the naked skin of her bust. She ignored the cold that pricked the skin of her cleavage while she struggled to pull up the zip.
Grunts, heaves, and sighs escaped her lips and when she finally managed to zip it up, handkerchief neatly folded in her hand, when she looked up, dark eyes were already on her. Not sure of what they saw. He looked at her chest again then back to her face.
Time froze.
And that ladies and gentlemen is how the Duchess of Quinton met her demise.
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