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Post by Leanora Crowe on Apr 4, 2011 7:59:59 GMT -5
Lemony read through the letter for the eighth time, sighing. He had been hoping for a letter from Beatrice, but of course he was never that fortunate. Instead, Bertrand had written him to tell him about Beatrice’s pregnancy. Lemony could just hear the gloating voice as he again read through the short letter.
Mr. Snicket, I don’t know if you have already heard, but Beatrice is with child. Our baby shower will be held at our home next Thursday at two o’clock, and you are invited. Beatrice has requested that you attend. We would be very pleased if you would join us in our celebration. No gifts, please. Cordially, Bertrand
Was is too much to ask for her to write him a letter? Could she not bear to talk to him at all? But if that were true, then why would she invite him into her home for the baby shower? It didn’t make sense.
But then again, it made perfect sense. It was Bertrand who didn’t like the idea of her talking to Lemony. He was trying to keep them away from eachother, and Lemony knew it.
Bertrand knew all about Beatrice’s past with Lemony. He also seemed to believe that she still had some sort of feelings for him, even if they were only friendly ones. He couldn’t stand the idea of her enjoying Lemony’s company.
Lemony stared at the pile of crumpled papers on the floor. He had attempted to RSVP, but he seemed unable to find polite words to say to Bertrand. He would love to write to Beatrice, but he knew Bertrand would read it, so he didn’t bother. He would just have to surprise them if he decided to go.
Lemony leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. If he decided to go. He had to make that decision, and soon. He only had a week to prepare if he chose to attend, and he would certainly want to buy a gift if he did, regardless of what the invitation said. It was the least he could do for the love of his life, after all.
He stared out the window at the black night sky, it’s darkness reflecting his mood. He decided the only thing left for him to do at this late hour was to try to get a little sleep, so he went to bed. He lay there for several hours before finally drifting away, dreaming of Beatrice and things that could have been.
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Post by Christmas Chief on Apr 4, 2011 18:45:13 GMT -5
You're making fantastic use of this love triangle. For some reason I just really like this line:
The thought of his attempts is what interests me.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Apr 5, 2011 10:16:22 GMT -5
What a touching chapter, and poor Lemony! It never crossed my mind that Bertrand would be the controlling type, but I must say it works. You're making fantastic use of this love triangle. For some reason I just really like this line: The thought of his attempts is what interests me. I know! Lemony is polite to a fault, and so it's very comical to imagine him doing something that is quite the opposite. XD
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Post by Hermes on Apr 5, 2011 14:00:29 GMT -5
This is fascinating. Your Bertrand is rather unexpected - but very plausible, I feel.
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Post by Leanora Crowe on May 3, 2011 12:40:16 GMT -5
Bertrand grumbled to himself as he helped Beatrice finish decorating for the baby shower and setting out food on the table. It wasn’t long before the first cars began to appear in the mansion’s driveway. He and Beatrice made their way to the front door to greet their guests.
The mansion was soon full of friends, associates, and the like. Bertrand could tell that Beatrice was scanning the room for a certain someone. Lemony Snicket, however, was nowhere to be seen. He chuckled to himself, realizing that his adversary might not show up after all.
His dreams were soon crushed as he saw Mr. Snicket step in the front door. He watched as he hung his coat and hat on a rack. Bertrand looked at Beatrice and saw that she hadn’t seen Lemony yet, so he quickly went to the door to greet him.
“We were beginning to think you weren’t coming,” he said, glancing back to make sure he was blocking Beatrice’s line of sight. A small step to the right...perfect.
“I’m fashionably late,” replied Mr. Snicket with a bit of a grin. He tried to step around Bertrand, but was intercepted by a fellow that Bertrand didn’t recognize. The two talked in hushed tones for a moment before Lemony spoke to Bertrand again. His voice was still low as he muttered, “I have something important that I need to speak with you about when you get a moment.” Bertrand nodded, wondering what in the world Lemony Snicket could have to talk to him about. He thought he had settled everything with this man when he married Beatrice.
“Alright, but you’ll have to wait until after dinner.”
The crowd gathered into the dining room and were seated around the long table. Dinner was served, and the food was delicious as always. After all, it was a Baudelaire dinner party. After a three-course meal and dessert, the group filed into the living room to socialize a bit. So far, Bertrand had managed to keep Beatrice from noticing Lemony’s presence. He decided the only way to keep it that way now would be to take Lemony outside and see what it was he wanted to talk about.
He walked over to where Lemony and his unfamiliar companion were standing and tapped Lemony on the shoulder. Lemony turned and looked at him, but said nothing. “Follow me,” Bertrand whispered. Within minutes, the three of them were standing on the front porch of the Baudelaire mansion. Bertrand hadn’t expected the unknown gentleman to follow them out, but he didn’t say anything because Lemony didn’t seem to have a problem with it.
After a brief silence, Mr. Snicket spoke, “You aren’t very protective of Beatrice.”
“What? Of course I am,” Bertrand said with a frown. Surely this wasn’t what he had been so anxious to discuss with him. “I take good care of my wife.”
“You don’t realize just how easy it was for me to get close to your charming little wife this evening. I could have practically killed her if I’d wanted to, and you couldn’t have done anything about it.”
“Lemony, you didn’t go anywhere near Beatrice tonight.”
“But I could have,” he said, showing Bertrand a strange crooked smile, “Couldn’t I?” When he smiled, Bertrand could see his crooked yellow teeth. Then he noticed an odd twinkle in his eye.
Then it dawned on him.
“Olaf,” he spat, “What are you doing here?”
“Take a wild guess,” Olaf replied with a sneer. Bertrand just glared at him, trying to decide whether or not he should step inside announce the uninvited visitor’s presence, or handle the situation himself. “I just wanted to show you that your sweet little wife could be in danger. With her in such a...compromising position, I would think you would take better care of her.”
“I kept an eye on her all evening.”
“Believe what you will, but I still suggest you don’t make any enemies for yourself, or she could end up in a very compromising position indeed.”
“Is that a threat, Olaf?”
“More of an offer. I could make sure no harm comes to her during this pregnancy,” he smiled, and this time it looked genuine. Almost inviting. “Unless you think you can handle that on your own, of course. I simply wanted to offer my help.”
Bertrand had to think about this. It was definitely unexpected. Especially from someone like Olaf, who usually thought only of himself. “It’s never that simple. What’s in it for you?”
“Not much, really. You just promise to help me out in my ‘endeavors’ whenever I need your assistance.”
“I’m going to need more information than that before I agree to anything.”
“If that’s a no, I understand. But remember what I said,” Olaf replied, looking Bertrand square in the eyes, “About not making enemies.”
He hesitated for a few minutes before answering, but finally he muttered, “Fine. I’ll do whatever you ask. But don’t you dare lay a hand on my Beatrice.”
Olaf grinned and nodded toward his friend, who turned and walked away from the house. “Consider it a deal, Bertrand. I keep my end as long as you keep yours.” He held out his hand, and Bertrand reluctantly shook it.
A black car, driven by Olaf’s unidentified associate, drove up in front of the mansion, and Olaf climbed into the passenger seat. As it drove away, Bertrand stood on the front porch of his enormous home and wondered what he had gotten himself into.
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Post by Christmas Chief on May 3, 2011 14:54:21 GMT -5
Good use of the V.F.D. characteristics to foreshadow Olaf's appearance. That was a very close call; I find myself wondering the same thing as Bertrand.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on May 4, 2011 14:56:04 GMT -5
I didn't care much for Bertrand's possessiveness of Beatrice in the beginning, but when Olaf's presence was revealed I was grateful for Bertrand's extreme cautiousness. I suppose the "fashionably late" line should have tipped me off, as it sounds more like something Esme would say - or, in this case, Olaf - than Lemony. I have a few dreadful premonitions as to where Olaf's "threat" will lead to, but I'll keep my lips sealed until further clues are divulged.
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Post by Leanora Crowe on Jul 8, 2011 15:40:55 GMT -5
It had been two weeks since the shower, and Beatrice still hadn’t heard from Lemony. She really wasn’t very surprised that he had missed the baby shower, but she had at least expected him to hide a letter or a card or something in the hedges out back. She had checked everyday. What if something happened to him? she thought to herself. No, that’s silly. Maybe...maybe Bertrand found it. Yes, that’s it. He must have gotten to it first.
She had to fight to keep from crying. She knew if Bertrand saw her cry, he would know exactly what it was about, and he would complain about it all evening. She had to stay strong.
In an attempt to get her mind off her grief, Beatrice unfolded and began to read The Daily Punctilio. She tried to concentrate on the front page articles, but before she knew it, she had flipped to the obituaries and was scanning for his name. This is ridiculous. I’m getting myself all worked up over nothing.
Then she saw it. There it was, in black and white, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. She skimmed over the article, hardly paying any attention to its words. It pronounced her beloved Lemony Snicket dead, and that was all that mattered. All other details were trivial. She dropped the newspaper to the floor, unable to contain her tears any longer. She hurried to the bathroom so Bertrand wouldn’t see. As soon as the door was closed behind her, she sank to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. She couldn’t help feeling responsible.
She tried to control herself, but this attempt only made it worse. She began to sob uncontrollably, and had to turn on the sink to drown out the sound of her weeping. She couldn’t bare to let Bertrand catch her crying. He had probably already heard the news, anyway, and would be expecting her to be hysterical. She simply had to pull herself together. She took slow, deep breaths and washed her face with warm water to calm herself. She had finally managed to stop the tears, but she hardly looked presentable. Her cheeks were puffy, and her nose was terribly red. Her eyes were bloodshot. She could think of nothing to do except pretend to be sick.
Just as she was opening the bathroom door to return to the den and face Bertrand, she heard him call out, “Bea, I’m going out. I’ll probably be late, so don’t wait up for me.” His words were mysterious, and any other time she would have been suspicious, but she could only laugh.
“Alright, honey,” she replied. She listened for the slam of the door before going to the kitchen and pouring herself a cup of bitter tea. She took the tea with her to her bedroom and curled up in her big corner reading chair. Then, she completely let go of her composure. The more she thought about Lemony and the things that could have been, the more the tears flowed. She cried herself to sleep in the chair, and woke up several hours later to find that she hadn’t even touched her tea.
She poured her tea down the kitchen sink with a frown. Then she turned out the lights and went to bed.
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Post by Christmas Chief on Jul 8, 2011 16:28:10 GMT -5
The view from Beatrice's side of the event is good (or bad, depending on your viewpoint) to see. You did a great job conveying Beatrice's emotional reaction to Lemony's "death"; it makes it more believable in the canon how she was so quick to assume TDP was correct, and why no other volunteers informed her of the falsehood (if any volunteers knew, that is).
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Post by Hermes on Jul 8, 2011 17:03:24 GMT -5
This is extemely sad, and I find your Bertrand very disturbing. Powerful stuff - keep it up.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jul 11, 2011 19:48:00 GMT -5
Beatrice's response to Lemony's supposed death was extremely heartbreaking, yet so convincing. I find Bertrand's character unsettling as well, and his "mysterious words" make me wonder what's to come.
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Post by Leanora Crowe on Aug 17, 2011 9:05:22 GMT -5
Lemony felt more ashamed of himself with every drop of the pouring rain as he stood on the sidewalk waiting for a taxi. His mind was on one thing, and one thing alone.
He had gone to the mailbox specifically to read that letter, yet he hadn’t read it until days later. The letter from his friend, the Duchess, telling him whether or not his assistance would be needed for an investigation she was conducting. He had promised to help her if she needed him to. He had even said he would drop everything and come to her aid at any moment. She had done a lot for him over the years. It was the least he could do.
But he still felt horrible for missing Beatrice’s baby shower over it. R would have understood, he knew. So why didn’t he just explain it to her? He still hadn’t figured that out. Perhaps he was afraid to face Beatrice. Afraid to see her with her husband, and hear her talk of their new baby. He knew she would be very happy. He felt like such a coward.
He also felt guilty for not reading the letter when it first arrived. It did indeed request his assistance, and he had left as soon as he had read it. He couldn’t help thinking that if he had read it, he might have had time to help his friend and get back home in time for the baby shower. If only he hadn’t gotten so upset about Kit’s...whatever it was.
So here he was, waiting for a taxi to return him home. He had arrived, helped the Duchess with her work, and was ready to return home in only a few days. If only he had read the letter the day he had received it.
Finally, a bright yellow taxi cab turned the corner, and he waved to the driver. At least once he was home, he could write an apology to Beatrice and hide it in the shrubs behind her house. That would help his feelings a little, he knew.
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Post by Christmas Chief on Aug 17, 2011 18:32:44 GMT -5
At least once he was home, he could write an apology to Beatrice and hide it in the shrubs behind her house. That would help his feelings a little, he knew. I read that first sentence initially to mean that Lemony himself would be hiding in Beatrice's shrubs (which wouldn't be so implausible). But the insight to Lemony's thought adds another layer of complexity to his character, and how you've tied it to both the setting and situation is quite well-done.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Aug 18, 2011 13:56:38 GMT -5
I like how you've shifted the focus from Beatrice to Lemony in this installment. Not that I don't enjoy reading about her - I do! - but it's always nice to see what's going on in the lives (and minds) of all the characters.
I wonder how he would react, if he knew she was suffering as much as he?
And I agree with Sherry Ann concerning the idea of Lemony hiding in the shrubs outside the Baudelaire home.
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Post by Leanora Crowe on Nov 8, 2011 9:10:37 GMT -5
Bertrand stood on the threshold of his bedroom and stared at his sleeping wife, trying to convince himself that he was justified in his actions. He was trying to protect her, after all. She was his most valuable possession. He kept telling himself things such as “You have no other choice” and “Anyone else would do the same thing in your position,” yet he couldn’t bring himself to believe any of it. At the end of his long, dreary day, when the sun had long been down, and the moon was hidden behind the clouds, all he could think was, “You’re a horrible person. You’re just like Olaf.” He knew what he would have to do if he defied Olaf, though: he would have to run away--he and Beatrice would have to hide. He just wasn’t ready for that drastic a move yet.
He considered waking Beatrice so he would have someone to talk to, but he decided he had better let her sleep. After all, the sight of Lemony’s obituary in the paper must have been an awful blow to her. He felt guiltier than ever as he considered the false obituary. He wondered how he could had done that to his poor wife in the first place, but he could come up with no answer that satisfied him. He knew in his heart it was simply because he was selfish. He thought he deserved all her love, and that she shouldn’t think about anyone else. He had felt it necessary to call The Daily Punctilio. He couldn’t wake her now. She deserved the rest.
As he lay on his bed and thought about his evening, the silence of his house began to pound in his ears. He kept hearing sounds outside that weren’t really there at all: voices, whispers in the dark, taps on the window. All he had done was deliver a copy of the last VFD meeting’s notes to Olaf, yet he felt as though he had murdered someone very close to him. He had betrayed VFD, his oldest, closest friend. His relationship would never be the same with any of his fellow members now that he had done this deed. Though it seemed so small to him, he knew it was a big step. He knew in his mind that Olaf would give him worse and worse tasks, first playing on his desire to protect his wife, then on his guilt. Soon he would be just like Olaf himself.
He had to do something. He had to get out, and fast. He would tell Beatrice the news the next morning, and if she asked questions, he would refuse to answer--he couldn’t trouble her with the details--at least until they were far away. It was decided. He would begin packing first thing in the morning. They would be off in no less than a week.
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