Maman Monologue
Lettre I
ENSEIGNE DE FORTESQUE to ENSEIGNE DE LEMEMBRE
The most coincidental of circumstances, that even I couldn't have foreseen, has by fate’s way, occasioned. My first night back in Paris was an eventful affair, with it being the grande ouverture of Le Académie Royale de Musique, I was not sure what was more insufferable, my family’s extravagant reunion or the monotony of the “great” Italian Opera les Peines et les Plaisirs de l’Amour, you know better than anyone just how I déteste saccharine love stories with happy endings.
It was after the usual pleasantries of the grande Fortesque family reunion, after Maman had remarked how tall I’d grown, after my inconceivable imbecile of a brother noted how gentlemanly I looked, that fate’s thin …show more content…
thread of destiny spun in front of me. My, my, good fortune, even I couldn't believe my luck. With my astound worldly flair I knew from one glance at the petite woman standing next to Maman, that this fille was a lady of high society. Being the gentlemanly gentleman I am, I immediately returned to the tedious conversation with my brother about what seemed to be the fashionable topic of the evening, his current plans of how to invest the family inheritance, but as much as I tried to restrain I couldn't help but sneak a glance at the woman.
This was not because of her astounding beauty, but instead because of the elegance and grace that stood in her figure. Her restrained animation to join the conversation was evident in the barely noticeable smile that curved her red lips below her shining eyes which were obediently locked on her fiancé as she ever so patiently waited to be acquainted with me. Guillaume introduced her as 19-year-old Charlotte Beausejour, his finance and 11 years his junior, he need not tell me about her many accomplishments in music and stitching as her fresh convent status was evident in her eyes as they shone with uncertainty and the brutal fear of misconduct. Pure, demure and vulnerable, my favourite type, as you well know.
Although now I do not regret my time in the army, it has taught me many tricks and Søren Kierkegaard’s existentialism way of thinking. I, like you am free and responsible for the development of my character through my acts of will, and mon amie I have no shame to admit I am now the libertine of the family, the disgrace. Even at the expense of my mother’s anguish, it is imperative that I ruin that marriage.
You may think me evil but my heart is blackened with years of resentment towards Maman’s abuse of my birthright, equal love.
I still can’t come to terms with her astounding effrontery in her obvious preference for my seemingly parfait brother, Guillaume, it really does tar my mood. “Look how he treats her!” Remarked Maman nodding towards Guillaume and his soon-to-be bride as he kissed her hand, an adoring twinkle in his eye. “They are going to be so happy in their nouvelle maison, Chateau de Benir sur Marseille!” My anger was very close to bubbling to the surface I tell you mon amie. My little stint in the army temporarily sidelined me but now I’m a force to be reckoned with, time for my rules. Welcome Charlotte Beausejour to our own little game of chat et …show more content…
souris.
During the carriage ride home my eyes played a dangerous game. They latched onto Madamemousille Beausejour until I was sure she couldn’t take their piercing pressure anymore.
“Do you like the game Le Pouilleux Charlotte? I asked, a mischievous twinkle in my eyes.
“Unfortunately not Ensigne François as I’m afraid I’m not very well acquainted with the rules” she replied, a fresh blush upon her fair cheeks and surprise in her eyes about being so casually addressed.
With my coyest smile I sparkled back “Well of course I can teach you, but be warned my dear, I do have the tendency to cheat, especially when I have a certain motivation to win.”
I have set my pawns in place and its not probable, but definite that by the end of the week Charlotte Beausejour will have been deflowered, ruining my deserving brother’s future and parfait life. Que les jeux commencent.
Lettre 2
ENSEIGNE DE FORTESQUE to MADAMEMOUSILLE BEAUSEJOUR
Mon cherie Charlotte, I throughly enjoyed our little game tonight of Le Pouilleux, fortunately in the event of Guillaume’s loss, I was able to take my prize, I take that you have learnt the rules by now?
I dread my return to the army Friday next, as it will completely deprive me the pleasure of seeing you. Your beauty awoke my love’s appetite, each passing minute of your absence drags on as I await the fulfilment of your company. I know you feel this passion for me too, it hides behind your dark eyes, those lingering stares of yours are quite telling of your whims. You’re the perfect woman, mon cherie, just with wrong garçon, incarcerated by the bounds of our society, I wish you, like me could be free to flourish and grow into the delicate fleur that your wills exacerbate.
To your credit my dear Charlotte, you are quite frankly stronger than me, more restrained, as you are able to contain this wicked yearning, I dare comment on the sacrilege of solely utilising your beauty for one man which can only be compared to the idyllic beauty of the god’s holy word himself.
I am weak with the sickness of love and I feel as if I may die of longing. I am a man used to getting what I want and I hope this may not be the exception. Sitting here writing this to you at my secreterie my passion has grown erect, the climax of my love, it is imperative.
I must have you.
I know this feeling I hold is not unrequited and I have a plan so that we can divulge ourselves! At quarter past the first hour of tomorrow morning claim to be unwell and send your maids to bed, alone and free we can unite and submit ourselves to the animalistic wills of our body.
I leave you with the desperate words of the lovesick poet Louise Labe, “so sweet, yet so bitter is l’amour, leaves the lover satisfied yet always yearning for more”
Goodnight for now, mon sucre
Enseigne de François Fortesque
Lettre 3
MARCHIONESS DE FORTESQUE to MARQUIS DE FORTESQUE
Oh the shame, oh the horror that our wretched bastard of a son has cursed upon our household. Guillaume’s marriage ruined, the lovely Charlotte Beasejour’s reputation tarnished all in one night. Quel désastre!
I can’t even bring myself to tell you the details of the atrocity, words can not be formed to dictate this treason and betrayal of the wretched François!
I can presume it must of been their giggles and whispers which echoed around the silent house, that alerted a passing maid who would then witness the inconceivable act.
It was as if François had wanted to be caught, the door was left carelessly open for all of France to see. Maid gossip assured that it was the talk of the town before we even dined at breakfast, Charlotte’s hushed dismissal was flurry of protests and tears as we couldn’t possibly be associated with her tarnished chastity more than we already were. The disgrace! I suspect she’ll live out her days as an old maid, poor girl, just a pawn in François’ sick
game.
I can not express my grief and distraught nature pronouncedly but I assure you I am shaking with rage so much that I can barely scribe this to you properly. François has fled, whisked away in a carriage even before I had the change to scold him, how does he manage to always leave a path of destruction behind him?
I eagerly await your return home, I simply cannot deal singularly with this wreck of our reputation and household,
Marchioness De Fortesque
ENSEIGNE DE FORTESQUE to ENSEIGNE DE LEMEMBRE
The most coincidental of circumstances, that even I couldn't have foreseen, has by fate’s way, occasioned. My first night back in Paris was an eventful affair, with it being the grande ouverture of Le Académie Royale de Musique, I was not sure what was more insufferable, my family’s extravagant reunion or the monotony of the “great” Italian Opera les Peines et les Plaisirs de l’Amour, you know better than anyone just how I déteste saccharine love stories with happy endings.
It was after the usual pleasantries of the grande Fortesque family reunion, after Maman had remarked how tall I’d grown, after my inconceivable imbecile of a brother noted how gentlemanly I looked, that fate’s thin …show more content…
thread of destiny spun in front of me. My, my, good fortune, even I couldn't believe my luck. With my astound worldly flair I knew from one glance at the petite woman standing next to Maman, that this fille was a lady of high society. Being the gentlemanly gentleman I am, I immediately returned to the tedious conversation with my brother about what seemed to be the fashionable topic of the evening, his current plans of how to invest the family inheritance, but as much as I tried to restrain I couldn't help but sneak a glance at the woman.
This was not because of her astounding beauty, but instead because of the elegance and grace that stood in her figure. Her restrained animation to join the conversation was evident in the barely noticeable smile that curved her red lips below her shining eyes which were obediently locked on her fiancé as she ever so patiently waited to be acquainted with me. Guillaume introduced her as 19-year-old Charlotte Beausejour, his finance and 11 years his junior, he need not tell me about her many accomplishments in music and stitching as her fresh convent status was evident in her eyes as they shone with uncertainty and the brutal fear of misconduct. Pure, demure and vulnerable, my favourite type, as you well know.
Although now I do not regret my time in the army, it has taught me many tricks and Søren Kierkegaard’s existentialism way of thinking. I, like you am free and responsible for the development of my character through my acts of will, and mon amie I have no shame to admit I am now the libertine of the family, the disgrace. Even at the expense of my mother’s anguish, it is imperative that I ruin that marriage.
You may think me evil but my heart is blackened with years of resentment towards Maman’s abuse of my birthright, equal love.
I still can’t come to terms with her astounding effrontery in her obvious preference for my seemingly parfait brother, Guillaume, it really does tar my mood. “Look how he treats her!” Remarked Maman nodding towards Guillaume and his soon-to-be bride as he kissed her hand, an adoring twinkle in his eye. “They are going to be so happy in their nouvelle maison, Chateau de Benir sur Marseille!” My anger was very close to bubbling to the surface I tell you mon amie. My little stint in the army temporarily sidelined me but now I’m a force to be reckoned with, time for my rules. Welcome Charlotte Beausejour to our own little game of chat et …show more content…
souris.
During the carriage ride home my eyes played a dangerous game. They latched onto Madamemousille Beausejour until I was sure she couldn’t take their piercing pressure anymore.
“Do you like the game Le Pouilleux Charlotte? I asked, a mischievous twinkle in my eyes.
“Unfortunately not Ensigne François as I’m afraid I’m not very well acquainted with the rules” she replied, a fresh blush upon her fair cheeks and surprise in her eyes about being so casually addressed.
With my coyest smile I sparkled back “Well of course I can teach you, but be warned my dear, I do have the tendency to cheat, especially when I have a certain motivation to win.”
I have set my pawns in place and its not probable, but definite that by the end of the week Charlotte Beausejour will have been deflowered, ruining my deserving brother’s future and parfait life. Que les jeux commencent.
Lettre 2
ENSEIGNE DE FORTESQUE to MADAMEMOUSILLE BEAUSEJOUR
Mon cherie Charlotte, I throughly enjoyed our little game tonight of Le Pouilleux, fortunately in the event of Guillaume’s loss, I was able to take my prize, I take that you have learnt the rules by now?
I dread my return to the army Friday next, as it will completely deprive me the pleasure of seeing you. Your beauty awoke my love’s appetite, each passing minute of your absence drags on as I await the fulfilment of your company. I know you feel this passion for me too, it hides behind your dark eyes, those lingering stares of yours are quite telling of your whims. You’re the perfect woman, mon cherie, just with wrong garçon, incarcerated by the bounds of our society, I wish you, like me could be free to flourish and grow into the delicate fleur that your wills exacerbate.
To your credit my dear Charlotte, you are quite frankly stronger than me, more restrained, as you are able to contain this wicked yearning, I dare comment on the sacrilege of solely utilising your beauty for one man which can only be compared to the idyllic beauty of the god’s holy word himself.
I am weak with the sickness of love and I feel as if I may die of longing. I am a man used to getting what I want and I hope this may not be the exception. Sitting here writing this to you at my secreterie my passion has grown erect, the climax of my love, it is imperative.
I must have you.
I know this feeling I hold is not unrequited and I have a plan so that we can divulge ourselves! At quarter past the first hour of tomorrow morning claim to be unwell and send your maids to bed, alone and free we can unite and submit ourselves to the animalistic wills of our body.
I leave you with the desperate words of the lovesick poet Louise Labe, “so sweet, yet so bitter is l’amour, leaves the lover satisfied yet always yearning for more”
Goodnight for now, mon sucre
Enseigne de François Fortesque
Lettre 3
MARCHIONESS DE FORTESQUE to MARQUIS DE FORTESQUE
Oh the shame, oh the horror that our wretched bastard of a son has cursed upon our household. Guillaume’s marriage ruined, the lovely Charlotte Beasejour’s reputation tarnished all in one night. Quel désastre!
I can’t even bring myself to tell you the details of the atrocity, words can not be formed to dictate this treason and betrayal of the wretched François!
I can presume it must of been their giggles and whispers which echoed around the silent house, that alerted a passing maid who would then witness the inconceivable act.
It was as if François had wanted to be caught, the door was left carelessly open for all of France to see. Maid gossip assured that it was the talk of the town before we even dined at breakfast, Charlotte’s hushed dismissal was flurry of protests and tears as we couldn’t possibly be associated with her tarnished chastity more than we already were. The disgrace! I suspect she’ll live out her days as an old maid, poor girl, just a pawn in François’ sick
game.
I can not express my grief and distraught nature pronouncedly but I assure you I am shaking with rage so much that I can barely scribe this to you properly. François has fled, whisked away in a carriage even before I had the change to scold him, how does he manage to always leave a path of destruction behind him?
I eagerly await your return home, I simply cannot deal singularly with this wreck of our reputation and household,
Marchioness De Fortesque