Entry tags:
FIC: An Outrageous Proposal (historical fiction)
TITLE: An Outrageous Proposal
FOR:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
schiarire
FANDOM: Historical
WORDS: 680
NOTES: I found this exchange in The Book of the Courtesans, by Susan Griffin. I have merely expanded it, so the facts are historical. What happens in the end is up to you.
An Outrageous Proposal
Paris, 1906
It should be said that Misia Sert was not naïve. She was far from it, in fact. As a theatrical producer, the pert woman was in the middle of the fashionable demi-monde, that alternative society of gentlemen, artists, writers, social rebels, actors, courtesans and lorettes which could only flourish in Paris. She was familiar with courtesans and their affairs; indeed, some of her best actresses were courtesans. And, she didn’t mind laughing with them over their conquests, over how much one man had paid for a night, another for a house…
But it was all a bit different when it was her husband who paid for a night, for a house. And such a house! Having hurried through the streets of Paris, clutching her handbag and muttering, ‘How dare he? How dare he? How dare she?’, all Misia could do was stare at her destination.
The elegant house was on the rue Fortuny, so close to the fashionable Parc Monceau that all she could do was grit her teeth. That it was an expensive house, Misia had no doubt. Expensive and elegant and her Alfred had paid for it!
Inarticulate fury banked only by decorum, the woman marched up the steps and knocked on the door sharply. You have a woman’s heart, she rehearsed in her head as she waited, give him back!
A doe-eyed maid answered the door. “Can I help you, Madame?”
“I am Madame Sert, and I have come to see Lanthélme.” Misia answered shortly. The girl nodded.
“Come in, Madame,” but as soon as Misia entered and the maid shut the door behind her, the maid went on. “Madame? I shall have to check you for weapons.”
Misia stared.
“Excuse me?”
“Weapons, Madame,” the maid said patiently. “It won’t take a moment…”
The doe-eyed maid was thorough, and by the time Misia was ushered into he rival’s drawing room, she was flushed, disheveled, and had completely lost her train of though. At first, she was grateful that Lanthélme wasn’t there, she could regain her thoughts and her arguments…
After ten minutes contemplation of a chic portrait of the stunningly beautiful actress painted by Boldini, Misia was almost in tears. I just want him back.
“Oh, my dear, you look lovely!” Almost jumping, Misia quickly rose to her feet as Lanthélme floated into the room. The actress, blonde and languid, merely smiled and bade her to sit down. What followed was what Misia, if she had been in right mind, would have recognized as a masterful disarmament of her anger. Lanthélme showered her with compliments before discussing the theater season. Feeling out of her depth, Misia just clung dumbly to the small talk as a lifeline.
“Now, can I help you in anyway, Madame Sert?” Lanthélme asked at last, leaning back on her chaise lounge to study her.
Flustered under the deceptively heavy-lidded gaze, Misia could only stammer, “I came…I came to speak to you about Alfred, my husband…”
“There is nothing at all to worry about, he hardly interests me,” Lanthélme began, and then stopped. The actress took in Misia’s flushed cheeks, her disheveled bronze hair, the way her pearl necklace fitted around her neck, and changed direction.
“My dear,” Lanthélme said, leaning forward intently, “ you can really have him – one three conditions: I want the pearl necklace you’re wearing, one million francs…and you.”
Misia stared, and promptly decided to ignore the last request as something her warped imagination had thought up. Her fingers trembling, she unclasped the necklace and placed it on the low table.
“I’ll…I’ll get the million francs in a few days,” Misia stammered, getting to her feet. “I need to go. Good day.”
~
When she arrived back at her hotel room, Misia found a package and a note written on cyclamen-coloured paper. Opening the package, she stared as her pearl necklace slithered out and fell onto the bed.
Frowning in confusion, she read the note:
Misia,
I have decided to forget the money and return the necklace. I am only holding you to the third condition.
Lanthélme
Fin.
FOR:
schiarireFANDOM: Historical
WORDS: 680
NOTES: I found this exchange in The Book of the Courtesans, by Susan Griffin. I have merely expanded it, so the facts are historical. What happens in the end is up to you.
Paris, 1906
It should be said that Misia Sert was not naïve. She was far from it, in fact. As a theatrical producer, the pert woman was in the middle of the fashionable demi-monde, that alternative society of gentlemen, artists, writers, social rebels, actors, courtesans and lorettes which could only flourish in Paris. She was familiar with courtesans and their affairs; indeed, some of her best actresses were courtesans. And, she didn’t mind laughing with them over their conquests, over how much one man had paid for a night, another for a house…
But it was all a bit different when it was her husband who paid for a night, for a house. And such a house! Having hurried through the streets of Paris, clutching her handbag and muttering, ‘How dare he? How dare he? How dare she?’, all Misia could do was stare at her destination.
The elegant house was on the rue Fortuny, so close to the fashionable Parc Monceau that all she could do was grit her teeth. That it was an expensive house, Misia had no doubt. Expensive and elegant and her Alfred had paid for it!
Inarticulate fury banked only by decorum, the woman marched up the steps and knocked on the door sharply. You have a woman’s heart, she rehearsed in her head as she waited, give him back!
A doe-eyed maid answered the door. “Can I help you, Madame?”
“I am Madame Sert, and I have come to see Lanthélme.” Misia answered shortly. The girl nodded.
“Come in, Madame,” but as soon as Misia entered and the maid shut the door behind her, the maid went on. “Madame? I shall have to check you for weapons.”
Misia stared.
“Excuse me?”
“Weapons, Madame,” the maid said patiently. “It won’t take a moment…”
The doe-eyed maid was thorough, and by the time Misia was ushered into he rival’s drawing room, she was flushed, disheveled, and had completely lost her train of though. At first, she was grateful that Lanthélme wasn’t there, she could regain her thoughts and her arguments…
After ten minutes contemplation of a chic portrait of the stunningly beautiful actress painted by Boldini, Misia was almost in tears. I just want him back.
“Oh, my dear, you look lovely!” Almost jumping, Misia quickly rose to her feet as Lanthélme floated into the room. The actress, blonde and languid, merely smiled and bade her to sit down. What followed was what Misia, if she had been in right mind, would have recognized as a masterful disarmament of her anger. Lanthélme showered her with compliments before discussing the theater season. Feeling out of her depth, Misia just clung dumbly to the small talk as a lifeline.
“Now, can I help you in anyway, Madame Sert?” Lanthélme asked at last, leaning back on her chaise lounge to study her.
Flustered under the deceptively heavy-lidded gaze, Misia could only stammer, “I came…I came to speak to you about Alfred, my husband…”
“There is nothing at all to worry about, he hardly interests me,” Lanthélme began, and then stopped. The actress took in Misia’s flushed cheeks, her disheveled bronze hair, the way her pearl necklace fitted around her neck, and changed direction.
“My dear,” Lanthélme said, leaning forward intently, “ you can really have him – one three conditions: I want the pearl necklace you’re wearing, one million francs…and you.”
Misia stared, and promptly decided to ignore the last request as something her warped imagination had thought up. Her fingers trembling, she unclasped the necklace and placed it on the low table.
“I’ll…I’ll get the million francs in a few days,” Misia stammered, getting to her feet. “I need to go. Good day.”
~
When she arrived back at her hotel room, Misia found a package and a note written on cyclamen-coloured paper. Opening the package, she stared as her pearl necklace slithered out and fell onto the bed.
Frowning in confusion, she read the note:
Misia,
I have decided to forget the money and return the necklace. I am only holding you to the third condition.
Lanthélme
Fin.