There had been fewer clouds clotting the dusty blue sky the morning Lady Dieudon had left for her brother’s estate. The heavens had moved in such swift junction with her departure that even the least eloquent of religious philosophers could have stood to convince Alderic that the clouds’ movement had been a sign from the Lord on Heavens

When he clasped his hands behind his back and watched his wife depart without moving to wave her goodbye, he acted in such an impersonal manner of his own free-will, and when his eyes caught sight of the lacquered wooden carriage rolling ever so leisurely down the path his wife had taken when departing, the smile that rose to color and soften the firm line of his lips did so of its own accord.

There was an eagerness to his steps, a giddiness that almost felt strange, buzzing as it did just beneath his flesh, prickling his skin and chewing anxiously away at the muscles of his arms and legs. It pressed harshly at his patience, at the awful kindness that had infected his mind. He needn’t have been so thoughtful, waiting as he had. Patience was no reward, and for it little was ever given; the prickling giddiness of anxiety agitated the tender flesh of his stomach, and there was no comfort to be found in the sour taste of gastrointestinal acid.

Footmen had moved past Alderic, their hands at the ready to grab luggage and handles and dainty palms. One’s gloved fingers had just moved to grasp and open the carriage’s door, but now Alderic hand was there, and the footman who had tried to aid the passenger in her departure was trying to regain his balance just a few steps away.

He tugged open the door. A woman’s face, flush with a warmth as refreshing as a fire in the dead of winter, peered out at his own from beneath the wide brim of her hat, and the firmness that had returned to harden the line of his mouth began once more to dissipate, fading beneath the soft light of amicability.

"Bonjour, ma cherie." He smiled like no other.