Marquis de Jacques was a composer envied by every man, woman and child alike. His soft lullabies and lively sonatas lit up every gathering he played in. the way he caressed the keys of his piano-forte when he plays was a amazing sight to see. He walked with an air of confidence, but stood in a humblest manner. A true gentleman he was his ice blue eyes always seemed to piercing while his soft brown hair was pulled back Marquis never was cross, he was more agreeable but that did not win him everybody.
It was the spring of the year 1890, Marquis was walking down the cobbled streets of London. He walked briskly, he was going to be late for the royal garden party and Marquis wanted to be on time this was his debut to London society, he was unsure if he would be as welcome here as he was when he was a young lad in Paris.
Marquis arrived at the gates of the garden, he took a deep breath before he appeared in front of the servant girl.
“Hello, I am Marquis de Jacques may you kindly show me where the piano is?” He asked softly.
The servant’s eyes grew wide as she took in Marquis, he had a small smile on his pink lips,his eyes had a glimmer of unseen mischief but his face was so innocent almost like a little boy. “Y—yes sir… it’s by the uh flowers..oh no the uhhh the fountain..Yes! the fountain sir..” she stuttered out. He smiled at her, Marquis took the girl’s frail hand gently and kissed it. “My sincerest thanks.” He said to her. She looked at him with awe and admiration. “My pleasure, sir.” She said quietly not meeting his eyes. He smiled at her again and walked towards the grandiose fountain. Marquis was greeted by an oversized man dressed in grand attire. “My boy, I notice that you are that composer from Paris?” he inquired speculatively. “Yes, sir I am I shall play some of my compositions for today’s gathering.” He replied articulately. You could see every woman in the room blush when he turned to stare at them, Marquis felt awkward. But he did a superb job of masking the awkwardness and tension he felt by creating a calm façade on his face. Here he was he thought a, Frenchman in London how oxymoronic since the French and English were mortal enemies. Marquis, smiled at the crowd before he sat down on the piano bench, he took the sheets of parchment out of his breast pocket and he carefully placed them on the note stand, and he touched the piano keys and closed his eyes. Marquis began to play a soft melody. Memories flashed in his mind as the song continued, he breathed in Marquis remembered her sweet scent, the way she walked around the city streets or the way her bronze hair would blow, and those soft aquamarine eyes. He breathed again but this time he smelled her blood, he remembered the way she screamed when he stabbed her mercilessly in the street, the joy when he got another inspiration to compose, Maria he though spitefully. Marquis ended his piece with a hard edge, he opened his eyes and saw everybody in awe. He took the piece of parchment from the note stand and folded it up abruptly. He turned to the crowd and bowed, Marquis did not know what to expect, the crowd was too silent. He thought too soon in seconds the miniscule crowd erupted in applause, Marquis felt a surge of pride rush in his veins. He smiled wide a bowed again the oversized man came to Marquis’s side the man slapped him on the back with such force that he almost lost his balance. “Yes, sir.” Marquis said. “My boy, that was amazing, I am Lord Wellington, a pleasure to meet you.” The man said. “Why thank you Lord Wellington.” He said politely. From the corner of his eye he saw a tall figure come his way. “And did you k—.” Lord Wellington was cut off. “Lord Wellington! What a pleasure to see you. You must be the newest sensation in Paris?” He turned to Marquis and smiled. “If you say so.” Marquis said wistfully. Lord Ashwood was man around his early twenties, he had jet black hair and dark blue eyes. He was also tall and his jaw was prominent and every inch of him was perfect, not to mention he was also incredibly handsome. “Lord Ashwood, how nice to see you as well.” Lord Wellington said to Lord Ashwood with mock enthusiasm. Marquis felt once again the odd man out. He bid the two men farewell and he walked away toward the rose bushes. He walked into one of the small aisles between the bushes and saw the servant girl again she was peeking through the leaves spying at Lord Ashwood. Marquis smiled and walked over to the girl quietly, he leaned in behind her a whispered, “Lord Ashwood is a dashing gentleman, but aren’t you suppose to be gathering roses.” The girl gasped and turned abruptly only to see Marquis grinning at her. “Oh! Sir, you frightened me. It also was not Lord Ashwood I was looking for it was someone else.” She said looking down. He took his finger and lifted up her face to look at him. “It is okay, I did not come here to persecute you I just merely wanted to tease you.” Marquis said kindly. He waited for her response, they stood there for an immeasurable period of time till the she breathed out and said “I need to get back to work, sir.” He frowned, “Go ahead go back to work on one condition, may know what your name is?” he asked, his eyes pleading. “Francesca, sir.” She said. He looked at her he memorized her dark brown eyes and her soft blonde curls, she smelled of roses and her cheeks were tinted a soft pink. Her lips parted themselves slightly, they were a deep red color. He let go of her face and kissed her hand for the second time that day. Marquis walked away to the party again, only to be met by a girl who looked like she was about to faint when Marquis stepped out and looked at her. “Greetings, Mr. Jacques.” She reached her hand out, and batted her eyelashes. “Pleasure to meet you Miss.” He said taking her hand and placing a kiss on it.