Stars Fade Blue

Emmerich was especially quiet on the ride home the next morning. He was tired and occupied in his own world. The previous night's attempts to sleep had proved futile because thoughts of Farrah Piccolet would not stop entering his head. Even in brief moments of slumber, he dreamt of her. His pride made it impossible for him to admit aloud that he was attracted to her, but it did not keep everyone else from seeing it.

The Earl and Countess smiled at one another the entire way back to their home, sharing knowing looks that their son was more than likely to be married within the next year. Cosette watched the trees pass, happy for her brother, yet disappointed that she had not found anyone for herself.

"Tell me, son, what was your opinion of the girl?" the Earl asked, well aware that his son would most likely blush and stumble to find words. He did. Emmerich stared wide-eyed at his father, baffled that he---in his opinion---had asked such a forward question. In reality, however, the question was vague enough to not be considered forward.

"Who?" Emerie responded casually. If he had answered too quickly then he would have been found out. All present would have known for sure that he had spent the past day thinking of only her. Unfortunately for him, though, everyone already knew.

"Miss Piccolet, of course," his mother clarified, smiling delicately. Her son cleared his throat and sat up straighter.

"Well, in my eyes…" he started and was tempted to finish with she's perfect, but went with, "she was very decorous" instead.

"I see…" his father muttered. Emerie quickly returned to his thoughts and turned away to face out of the window. As he was turned away from them, his parents smiled once again and relaxed themselves.

"There is no question that she will accept his offer. Whether or not she herself is inclined to do so is irrelevant. Surely her parents will pressure her into it if she is tempted to decline," the Earl told his wife. He was pacing around their parlor while she sat in her usual spot, watching him. She admired the way he was so worried over the situation at hand.

"You are forgetting, dear, that Emmerich will not have her---or anyone---if she does not want him. Regardless of strategy and titles, he is more likely to die alone than with a wife that does not or must learn to love him. I know that as fact," she shared.

The Earl groaned and flopped himself into his high-back chair. His wife was right, their son believed in love. In a way, he blamed himself for that. The Earl and Countess loved each other very much and, although their marriage was arranged, they had always felt that way. Perhaps, the Earl thought, if we weren't so friendly to each other he would understand that not everyone cares about their spouse.

Emmerich knew that, though; he was well aware that many marriages were strictly tactical and contained no real emotion at all. But he had decided a long time ago that he would never marry because he didn't believe that he could find the right person. If, however, he did, he was sure he would reconsider the latter. And he was.

"We'll put her on the guest-list for Eleonore's party. She will come, I'll make sure of it, and then she will be more accessible to speak with. It will be grand," the Earl declared. His wife nodded in consent.

"How will you be sure she will attend?" she wondered. Her husband stood up from his chair and took a deep breath.

"I will pay a visit to Governor Piccolet tomorrow and not take no for an answer. Like I have said, they are not likely to decline the idea of their daughter being a Viscount's wife. Especially one who is the Major General of the country. Not only would that be an honor for her, but for them. Although, the governor's wife did seem rather smug at the possibility of her lowly daughter marrying my son," the Earl stated grumpily.

"Ehrenfried," his wife scolded. He smiled sheepishly at her and held out his hand. She returned the gesture and joined him in the middle of the room. The Earl wrapped his arms around his wife's shoulders and held her close.

"Isemay, I only want him to be happy. I only wish for him to wake up and smile as I do, for I have you. It is not wrong of me to want these things for my son, and besides that, I rather like Miss Piccolet. There's something about her that captivates me so. There is no doubt that he feels it too, as I'm sure everyone does. And I believe that she needs to be released from whatever type of trap they have her in…"

"You believe she is unhappy there?" Isemay asked incredulously, backing away slightly to look at her husband. He nodded vaguely and sighed.

"I can see it in the way her parents look at her and in the manner of which she acts around most of her family. Her brother Braden seems alright, but as for the rest of them I must say I do not care to see the way they treat her."

"You think they treat her poorly?" Isemay gasped. Ehrenfried smiled reassuringly and pulled her head into his chest. She rested there as he stroked her hair and breathed deeply.

"The story is, dear, that they're ashamed of her. They were not supposed to be able to have any more children and didn't want any. Of course once she was born everyone realized that she had to have been conceived and that the Piccolets had obviously used the practice of such a process as more than a necessity. It's more than a story, actually, but I suppose some people hold faith that their governor is a better man than that. As far as I can tell, nonetheless, he is anything but."

"Is that why she's so thin? Is she neglected? Or starved!?" Isemay shouted, pushing herself away from Ehrenfried. "Oh, dear, you must save her. I cannot live with her on my conscious. That poor girl…"

"Relax, love," he whispered to her, caressing her face with the backs of his fingers. She bowed into his touch and exhaled. "I will speak with our son now and tell him of my plan."

"But if he knows, he'll never agree," she fretted, grasping her husband's hand tightly and holding it to her face.

"If I know him at all, and if we have raised him well, he will understand. I see what's in his eyes, Isemay, I know what his heart feels," he explained passionately. "I look upon you with those same eyes, and feel about you that same way. It is love, whether he is aware of it or not, it is love."

With a few last words, the Earl bid his wife goodnight and promised to join her soon. They left the parlor together, but parted in the hall. Isemay retired to their bedroom for the night and Ehrenfried made his way to his son's room. Without knocking, he entered, finding Emmerich working intensely on a letter of sorts, his lamp slowly dying.

"Emerie," the Earl announced, stepping toward his son, who was startled by the sudden presence of someone else in his room.

"Father," he breathed, trying to catch back what breath he had lost from fright. "What do you need?"

"Nothing particular," he replied, seating himself on the end of his son's bed, across from where the latter sat at his desk. "What are you working on?" he changed the subject quickly.

"That new manor has been completed, the one in Liedsmouth. I'm quite sure I intend to buy it," Emmerich shared with his father.

At the mention of purchasing a home of his own, the Earl became elated, but hid it well. The purchasing of a home would mean that his son would have room, room for a family. Of course, what other reason could he have for spending his money thus? Surely it was not to house his needles frivolous purchases because Emmerich Yves-Leventhorpe was meticulous with his money, not just his appearance and behavior. He barely spent anything, having money saved from his childhood. He never accepted large sums from anyone, except for his work. He never asked for anything. Emerie was careful with expenses and savings. Buying a house was, unsurprisingly, a shock to his father.

"What has made you decide to keep your own manor?" the Earl fished for the answer he wished to hear. Needless to say, Emmerich was taken aback by the question, knowing that deep down the option was considered because of exactly the reason his father expected.

After composing himself, though, he came back with, "I will be twenty in mere months. It would seem rather pathetic to still live with my father when I am my own man, no?"

"You are right," the Earl agreed. Some minutes passed before Ehrenfried sighed and gazed at his son seriously. "I am to travel back to Lenore first thing in the morning to speak with the governor."

Confused by the sudden change in topic, as well as the randomness of such travel, Emerie furrowed his brow and asked, "For what purpose could you return there?"

"Emmerich, please do not pretend to be so daft any longer. I am aware that you know exactly what I will travel there for."

Emerie sat up straighter and cleared his throat. His eyes narrowed at his father and he clenched his jaw. Surely, he thought, he would not humiliate me so.

"Do you mean to tell me that you plan to arrange a marriage?" he asked heatedly.

The Earl pursed his lips and tilted his head back slightly. He never took his gaze from his son.

"I do not. I will simply share with Governor Piccolet that you have taken interest in his daughter, which you have. This will prevent him from allowing any other young men to court her and, in turn, you will be granted permission to visit at will."

"You would embarrass me in consequence?" Emerie questioned powerfully.

"No, Emmerich. I am not asking him for anything in your favor. I am traveling under the pretense of business and intend to drop a hint. You really think that I could wound you so? You are my son, and I would never tarnish your name or mine. By my hints alone, he will offer opportunities for you to come and ask permission yourself. Never would I be so foolish as to disgrace you, Emerie," his father elucidated.

"Thank you, then," Emerie whispered in gratitude. Ehrenfried was amazed by the response, previously expecting to have to argue and reason with his son on the institution of marriage.

"Is that…?" his father started, but could not finish straight away. He found himself at a loss for words, his throat dry, and his heart exuding pure happiness. "Is that conformation that you shall, in proper time, ask for Miss Piccolet's hand in…marriage?" Ehrenfried sputtered.

Emmerich thought for a moment and closed his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, an odd habit he had adopted over the years, and sighed. Pitifully, he gaped at his father and shrugged. He cleared his throat and nodded, allowing himself a brief smile.

"I think it is."

The strangest part was that he didn't even know her.



Don't get too excited with all of this mushy-gushy stuff because this isn't some problem-free, absolutely boring love story. I'm just setting the scene. =]