Thread: A Household of Three - a Meridian Society tale (The Corsair & Madam Mim)

It isn't dramatic at all, Anne Marie said with a dismissive wave. I learned long ago that it is best to let you divulge the details of your private life in your own time. If this is what you need, Algie, then this is what I will give you. She let him have a few moments as he paused outside the car. It was a beautiful home. Garlands still decorated the stone facade and a wreath still hung on the door as though tomorrow were Christmas. It was charming, but Anne Marie was unable to be charmed at the moment. She dreaded whatever might lie within. She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help it. This was the remaining tie to Algernon's life outside of the Society, before her, before Gustav even. It was alien and terrifying because God only knew what effect it might have on her, on them . But her concern oughtn't be for herself and she knew that. As Algie started repeating himself while helping her out of the car, she took a firmer hold of his hand and smiled in what she hoped was a comforting matter. Breathe, mon amour, she said gently before bringing his hand to her lips. Gently she kissed each finger before squeezing his hand then taking his arm properly and letting him lead the way inside. She was slightly alarmed at the sight of the squat woman brandishing a cudgel before pretending it was a walking stick. But Mrs. Heath didn't mention it and Anne Marie's expression remained placid, as though she believed that it was a walking stick. Even if she'd had no relation to the professor, this was not a woman to be trifled with. Madame, Anne Marie returned politely, curtsying gracefully in return and managing a small smile. She liked Mrs. Heath. Her smile faltered, however, when Algie offered her his arm again and asked her to join him. Taking a deep breath she took his arm and nodded. But of course. Madame LaMonte's heart pounded as they mounted the stairs. Would he tell his wife who she was, and who she was to him? Or would she know before he could even tell her? Would his Mrs. Swift understand? Anne Marie had never gone among mad people before, and while this was vastly more accommodating than Bedlam she was still nervous. She felt like she was intruding upon a marriage, like she was staking claim to a man who wasn't hers even though the woman had been detached from the knowable world for more than two decades. Even more worrisome, however, was the doubt which had haunted Anne Marie ever since Algie had told her that his wife was still living would she measure up? Was she good enough for him? This was the woman he had chosen to marry she was his pupil, his colleague, his friend, young enough to be his daughter, and arguably some of the only friendly female contact he'd had outside of work after Gustav LaMonte had tortured his wife to madness. It felt almost like she was cheating in having won his affections. Or else like she was the consolation prize, the woman he was with simply because she was there. But this wasn't about her. It was about Algernon. Anne Marie swallowed her feelings of inadequacy and her fears, fixing in place that mask which had been painted on for so many years. Leaning up she kissed the professor's cheek gently, squeezing his arm encouragingly as he reached for the door.