claude de chanterelle

we've done it all before and now we're back to get some more - you know what I mean . . . voulez-vous

[thanvisilks]

OPEN STARTER | to thetonhq LOCATION | THANVI SILKS (MODISTE)

As busy as the day was, it was even hotter which made everything much worse and peoples patience shorter than normal. It was not even eleven o'clock and she had to calm down two families who were fighting with each other or with their realtives. "Forgive me, please," she says with her brows pushed together as she moves fast between jobs, arms full of different materials and completly full. "I'll be just a moment but if you wouldn't telling me why you are here and I can ensure you won't be spending too long here. Oh!" she exclaims, rushing back, "there's a pitcher of water filled with lemon. It will help in this heat!"

Quickly, she puts her things away the best she could and comes over with a welcoming look to the visitor. "I thank you deeply for your patience. Would you like to take a seat?" She pours them both a glass of water and imemditely drinks her, trying to sip but the refreshment hits with great need.

[reveryfm]

Claude had only been seventeen when he had fled France, but even so, he could not remember a day that was as insufferably hot as this. He had travelled many places, in fact, but nowhere had been this... unbearable. It was rather undignified, the way he felt himself sweating, and he had no choice but to duck inside a shop just to find some shade from the sun. "Apologies, madame." Claude smiled somewhat sheepishly at the woman running around, seeming to be rather busy while he tried to discreetly mop his brow with his handkerchief. "I have no real reason for being here aside from seeking shelter from the sun. Though, if your offer of refreshment is true, I would be most grateful of it." He accepted the glass from her with a small bow of gratitude, copying her in the way he immediately finished off half the liquid. "Much better, merci beaucoup."

[elliottxcarlisle]

Who: Lord Claude De Chanterelle ( @reveryfm ) Where: St. James' Circle

Elliot had received an invitation to the new gentleman's club, St. James' Circle. It was upscale, well laid out, and incredibly discreet. Ideal for any upstanding man to find an escape from society, the ton, and relax. He was currently thumbing through one of the newspapers offered, when his eyes fell on Claude DeChanterelle, the Duke of Chartes. Slowly he lowered his paper, and made his way over to the other man.

"Is this your first time, coming here? I heard that its fairly new. I wanted to see if the membership would be worth it. So far I am fairly impressed." Giving a small bow of his head, "Excuse me, where are my manners? Elliot Carlisle, MP for Westminster." He offered his hand to the other man, feigning ignorance on who he was.

[reveryfm]

The selection of books on the shelves was adequate, Claude supposed, though in his opinion it lacked anything truly worthwhile. Regardless, he was pulled from his thoughts when someone approached, and he was anything but rude. Turning, he aimed a polite smile at the new face, his expression edging on the friendlier side intentionally. "Yes, yes, this is my first visit. It is impressive, I agree, even if their literature is... I would say, lacking in diversity." He waved his hand in a vaguely dismissive gesture, complete with a light chuckle. "But that is a matter of individual taste." He reached to accept Elliot's hand, grasping it firmly. "Ah, a politician! How very exciting. A pleasure to meet you, sir. I am Claude De Chanterelle." He purposefully left out the title for now - this was a friendly conversation, and immediately announcing he was a duke felt like it might come across as gloating. For now, he would just remain amicable. Being in the good books of a politician could never truly be a bad thing.

[lorddominic]

who: dominic & open where: hoisery shop, mayfair

The engagement between Dominic and Leonora had been announced. The morning of the announcement, Dominic informed his mother, but she wasn’t exactly pleased. Instead of offering her son congratulations, she offered him criticism. Leonora wasn’t the Murray she wanted for Dominic, but Dominic explained his reasoning. Leonora had experience in a royal court, managing a title and estates. France was different to Ireland, but Dominic had every faith that she would make the perfect marchioness. A title his mother never received, and Dominic always assumed that was the reason for her resentment. His birth meant he was Daniella’s heir, not her. He wouldn’t apologise for that. Dominic was doing what he was born for, what she had him do. 

Dominic already knew today was not the day to remain at home. The lord wasn't sitting; he had no morning appointments to attend to. His brothers couldn’t be found or didn’t want to be. For the first time in a while, Dominic had time. He decided to stop by the hosier's with the sole purpose of looking for an engagement gift, something he could give his future wife without knowing too much about her. It was the way things worked in society. Inside, the hosier was cool and quiet. There was a faint smell of lavender that filled the shop as Dominic paused before the glass counter. Gloves were displayed beneath it, all made with the finest silks and embroidery. One pair caught his eyes. They were ivory lace day gloves with seed pearls sewn in. Behind him, the bell rang. “Maybe you could help this lord decide on a pair." The shop keeper said to whoever was standing behind him. Dominic stepped aside, his eyes not leaving the pair he’d focused on. “What do you think?” He asked whoever came in, “Are these a suitable gift for a future wife?”

[reveryfm]

Admittedly, Claude hadn't been looking for anything in particular. He had taken to the habit of simply browsing many of the shops he came across in Mayfair, just for the fun of it most days. With not very many connections after his years in recluse, he found himself rather... well, bored. Odd, really, he couldn't remember the last time he was bored. Claude paused at the door when a question was aimed his way, unprepared for being addressed so soon after stepping foot inside. However, he recognised the man the shopkeeper was gesturing towards, and when the chance came to speak to a familiar face nowadays, he certainly took it. "Ah, yes, I would be glad to help my Irish friend, here," he agreed, stepping forwards to peer at the indicated gloves. "Yes, very nice. A lovely gift for a very lucky lady, I am sure." Nodding, he stepped back and turned towards Dominic. "I have heard that congratulations are in order. Or, as I would say, félicitations pour vos fiançailles!"

[wonderxrings]

where; an inn whomst; open

"Please, no need." Oskar waved away the hand that had gone to help him into the chair. His shoulder was aching and for the first time in a while he could feel the scars on his leg tightening as he moved. It had barely been three days since all the poppy had been removed and he could feel the loss of it. Everything felt strung out. There was a tremble in his hands he couldn't quite hide. "I am not helpless, I can manage."

[reveryfm]

Claude paused mid-rise from his own seat when the other man waved him away, his expression still one of lingering concern. He could clearly see that man was in some sort of pain, from what, Claude did not know, but that was unimportant. "Forgive me, I did not mean to somehow imply you are incapable." He settled back into his own seat nearby, though he still watched with unease - he was not above the simple kindness of caring whether someone was in pain or not. "Are you alright?"

[mcstardently]

who: laurence & open

where: barnett residence

when: gemstone ball

He took a seat, curious as to what was happening. He had heard bits of whispers about reading rubies or something of the sort, and seen some partygoers going outside as well towards the gardens. Laurence glanced over at the person sitting nearest to him.

"Do you think they have any truth to them? The fortunes, I mean," he sat up a bit more with his drink and nodded towards the curtain--meant to be mysterious in purpose, was almost concerning. But it seemed to fit the theme. "I am quite enjoying the night, however. So tell me, do you have any predictions for the evening?"

[reveryfm]

Claude, quite comfortable in the chair he had found, glanced toward the curtained alcove before returning his attention to Laurence, a faint smile touching the corner of his mouth. "I have always found fortunes to be most convincing after they come true. I am not one to believe in predictions." Facts were easier to lie about than predictions that could mean anything. Facts could be used and manipulated to support him. predictions, fortunes, talks of luck... they were, ironically, unpredictable. "People rarely seek fortunes to learn the future. They seek them in hopes of hearing something they already wish to believe. What can I observe and draw conclusions on, however? That is a different matter." He pointed out with a coy smile, taking a sip of his drink.

[calins-et-bisous]

Charlotte Debelle | Open Starter | Gemstone Ball

Even when she had the night off, Charlotte was still working. She needed to mingle with people, make connections. And that was what she was doing now as she glided across the dance floor with her partner, the music soft and airy. She twirled herself and smiled at her partner and then guided them into a turn as well.

"Thank you for dancing with me, I am having such fun with you!" It was true, they were very enjoyable. But she also knew she was representing the Theatre Royal, so really she had to be polite and charming even if she was not having a good time. Thankfully, this person was not bad company. "What activities have you done tonight? I am rather curious about the moonstone appraisals. Though I must admit, I am a little nervous for what they might say!" She said with a gentle chuckle.

[reveryfm]

Claude followed along with the steps in time to the music, at ease for the first time all night. He had spent most of his time on the side lines, simply observing as he figured out how to truly exist in this society, instead of watching from a far distance. It was nice to finally find someone who would understand his plight, at least somewhat, as a fellow French national. "I would have been a fool if I had survived this whole event without a single dance with you." Claude responded with his usual grin as they spun, but it settled on his face differently than usual - deeper, more genuine, no ulterior motives behind it. For once. "I confess, I have done very little aside from converse with the nobility and drink by the refreshments tables. I am still... adjusting." He leaned a little closer to drop his voice into a quieter volume, avoiding eavesdroppers as he remarked playfully, "To English society, and their lacklustre alcohol choices."

[lorddominic]

Dominic remembered his first outing as a marquess. He’d always thought it was bad enough when he was the heir, but his investiture changed everything. Dominic heard his grandfather once described those looking for a spouse as bloodhounds. Their skills at sniffing out an eligible, unmarried lord were beyond compare. After his first ball, Dominic decided his grandfather had been delicate in his descriptions. “There’s no apology needed." Dominic offered a smile and his own full glass. He didn’t need the respite as much. “You never had it, so there’s no offence. I’m Lord Dominic O’Connor, marquess of Downshire.” His Irish accent was more prominent whenever he’d introduce himself. So many who visited London had the misconception of calling Dominic and his brother’s English when they were the furthest thing from it.

“Careful now,” Dominic laughed, his voice full of humour. “If you continue to talk about my fortune and looks, others will swarm us both.” Dominic needed a break from match-making. He wasn’t averse to finding a wife; he just needed the right one. This night, all Dominic had was his mother’s choices. Women he knew Lady Daniella thought could control. It’s not what Dominic wanted. “Are you here with Princess Genevieve? I have plans to match her to my brother and heir.” One of the princesses would do, but a French one was preferable. 

[reveryfm]

Claude inclined his head slightly at the introduction, the movement elegant and practiced. There was a flicker of amusement in his expression as Dominic's accent thickened around the title, and he almost assumed the marquess had sharpened the distinction deliberately. Claude wouldn’t blame him - he thickened his own accent on purpose from time to time. "A marquess?" Claude repeated, with the appropriate amount of interest. “And Irish, I believe, from your accent? Forgive me, I still have trouble with the distinction.” The warning about fortune and looks drew a low laugh from him, more genuine than polite. “I assure you, my lord, I have no wish to contribute to your suffering. I have witnessed the determination of ambitious mothers this evening. It is enough to make one reconsider attending society altogether. Though," Claude added, glancing around the room before turning his gaze back towards Dominic, "I suspect your difficulties stem less from your title and more from the unfortunate combination of being both handsome and apparently good-natured." At the mention of Princess Genevieve, he shifted on his feet slightly, a momentary betrayal of his discomfort. "I am... acquainted with Her Highness, yes." Something unreadable crossed his expression before he smoothed it away with a smile. "Your brother must possess remarkable qualities if you intend to secure him a French princess. Is he aware of your… plans?” The twinkle in his eye suggested he was teasing.

[lavieenton]

Genevieve perked up when she realized who she had come across. What was the duke doing here? Nevermind that, she thought. She could question him tomorrow when the evening was not buzzing with excitement and anticipation.

"Tiger's Eye is beautiful, I hear," she said. "You reflect the gem well, but I did not see you at the docks upon my departure from France. And yet we arrived at the same time. Why is that, Your Grace?"

She found her eyes narrowing, strangely suspicous of him. His tone alone let her know he was not prepared to see her, let alone speak with her.

[reveryfm]

Claude had never felt so uncomfortable in his life, which was saying a lot, considering the various compromising positions he had found himself in over the years. He cleared his throat in a thinly-veiled attempt to fully recover his composure. "Merci, Your Highness, your approval is duly noted." He paused, thinking his words through carefully before straightening up a little taller. "Ah, see, I was not upon the docks for I have been in England for... quite some time, now. I have not been to France for many years." He managed one of his charming smiles, and a laugh, though it didn't quite reach his eyes the same. "I cannot be in two places at once, it is impossible."

[lavieenton]

|| open starter || Princess Genevieve

|| LOCATION || The Barnett Gemstone Ball

Genevieve was not impressed attending balls anymore. Perhaps when she was a child and marveled at the grandeur chandeliers and elaborate decorations, but now, it was all crude. People with too much money using things they did not need for a gathering that did not matter. It was an agitation, a tumor that would never cease its festering upon people.

It was Edgar who made it all the more better, though. She wouldn't have admitted that she detested balls as much as he did, then he wouldn't have possibly shown up. He would make this an exciting ordeal, something to remember.

The one thing she would give credence to is the fashion. Everyone looked marvelous. There were some people who Genevieve eyed curiously, wondering if they'd gotten dressed in the dark. But aside from those outliers, her gaze remained on the crowd. She spotted someone in particular and approached them. "You are quite the dazzling gem, though I cannot tell which one you are."

[reveryfm]

Running into French royalty was... less than ideal. Claude had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that he would be able to avoid her, and to his credit, he had! He had forgotten, however, that other people indeed had free will. Which meant, he had forgotten that just because he was actively avoiding the Princess, did not mean she shared the sentiment. And perhaps ashamedly, her sudden advance threw his composure briefly. "Ah, well... thank you, Your Highness." He managed to choke out with a polite bow, clearing his throat before regaining his dignity (somewhat). "I was rather inspired by the Tiger's Eye - specifically, the blue variety."

[lorddominic]

who: dominic & @reveryfm where: The Barnett House (event)

Society events didn’t bother Dominic. He knew some people hated them and found them to be an inconvenience, but Dominic understood the necessity of them. He didn’t like that the Barnetts had something to celebrate, but Dominic wouldn’t let it ruin his night. He’d watched as others wanted to be appraised, as if they were nothing but cattle. Dominic may have been necessary in these events, but he didn’t have the patience for this sort of spectacle. Even though someone was getting appraised, Dominic couldn’t hear anything above other people talking. The Duke of Chartres was now in England, and many hoped he was looking for a wife. Dominic understood how frustrating this could be. He crossed the room, brandy in hand, and introduced himself. “I find these evenings are more tolerable with enough liquor,” he joked, holding out one of the glasses. “You’re the subject of a lot of conversations there. I’d avoid it if I were you.” 

[reveryfm]

Claude had mostly stuck to the side lines of the ball so far, attempting to minimalise the attention he might have garnered. In truth, he was still getting used to the grand events, the likes of which he hadn't attended freely since he was a boy, and it was all very overwhelming. The offer of a drink was a welcome one, and regardless of who had offered it, he took it without hesitation. "Ah. Merci, sir." He hadn't even looked at the other person before he had knocked back half the glass... so perhaps he was a little more highly strung than he had been attempting to act. "Where are my manners, excuse me." Claude laughed, more at himself than anything, turning to the man who had approached. "Yes, conversations I find I often hold no part in. Usually whispers behinds fans, I find, so you are right - liquor does make it bearable." Names were not something that came easy to him after years of reclusion, and as Claude regarded the man beside him, he realised he had no idea who he was. Knowing how offended people seemed to get when he couldn't remember (or didn't know) a name, he decided to turn on the charm. “I owe you an apology. I have misplaced your name entirely, though in my defence, gentlemen with your good fortune in looks and taste in dress tend to be rather distracting.”

[reveryfm]

Blue Tiger's Eye

Also known as Falcon Eye or Hawk's Eye, this gemstone fits Claude for it's associations with quiet strength, confidence and intuition. Claude is deeply observant and considerate with his wording when he needs to be, or when he deems the situation in need of more careful handling - perfect, as it also enhances communication. Blue Tiger's Eye is generally used for emotional balance, which Claude prides himself on, keeping calm in even the most anxious moments in order to make the right decision (most of the time).

[edgaroconnor]

Open starter Location: Covent Garden

|| Trigger Warning: alcohol consumption ||

Edgar was mid-laugh when the situation turned - though whether it had turned badly or simply become more entertaining was, in his mind, still up for debate. He'd somehow found his way onto the edge of a fountain in the square of Covent Garden, one boot braced against the stone lip while the other hovered far too close to slipping. His coat hung open, cravat half-loosened, hair a touch unruly in a way that suggested the night had been far longer than intended. A small crowd had gathered at a cautious distance.

"I'm perfectly steady," he insisted to no one in particular, though his balance suggested otherwise. He lifted his glass as if to prove a point, only managing to spill a portion of it over his hand instead. Edgar blinked at it, then laughed again, entirely unbothered. "See? Not a drop-" His foot slipped slightly. He caught himself, barely, grin widening as though that had only improved things. "- well, nearly."

Only then did his gaze flick outward, landing on someone just close enough to intervene. Recognition - or something like it - lit his expression, bright and easy. "Ah," he said, as if they'd arrived exactly when expected. "There you are." He tipped his head, still precariously balanced, entirely untroubled by it. "Tell me," he added, voice warm with amusement, "are you here to save me, or simply witness the ending?"

[reveryfm]

The spectacle was amusing indeed, Claude had to admit, though he hadn't expected to be singled out as such. Still, he didn't recoil nor walk away like he might have done mere days ago, but instead, decided to indulge this... strange man. Claude was certain he was drunk, something he could at least respect. Amusement coloured his words as he stepped forward, allowing himself a smile. "Good man, I do believe I might save you from yourself in this advice, but perhaps it may be clever to... get down." He gestured to the edge of the fountain, and then the much safer, much drier ground. "That is, presuming you do not wish to spill the rest of that very fine drink you have there."

[tenderdeceit]

Open starter Location: Tavern at Covent Garden

Thomas moved through Covent Garden with ease, remembering each alley and backway as if he had never been away. It was loud, with music spilling out of open doors and dimly lit, making it easy for him to remain mostly anonymous. Gentlemen, of course, did not come to Convent Garden, so it was with purpose and much discretion that Thomas found himself here.

One of the main currencies of good society was information, and as he'd been away from London for too long, he was in great need. Though his contacts were reliable, there were too few of them left, and so he was willing to trade for what he needed to reassert himself back into the royal inner circle. He ended up at a Tavern waiting for.. someone. He wasn't quite sure who, only sure that he received a note. He sat in the back corner, facing both the front door and the open street, back straight, hand clenched tightly around a glass of whisky as he listened to the conversations around him. When the door opened, letting a warm rush of air in, Thomas raised his eyebrows, the only evidence that he found himself intrigued by the person that walked in. "I must confess, I did not expect to see you here."

[reveryfm]

Claude was still attempting to adjust, despite his residency stretching beyond years. In his honest truth, he hadn't been out much, spending most of his time in his modest home - well, modest in his own estimations. He had made the odd acquaintance, perhaps seen the same face or heard the same name a handful of times in his rare moments of exploration, but certainly not enough to keep up with the daily comings and goings. He hadn't even read this "Whistledown" paper everyone seemed so interested in. perhaps that should have been his next move. Instead, a s a typical Frenchman would, he had spent his days since his decision exploring and searching for at least a decent place to drink. This Tavern was the next on his list, though he hadn't truly expected to be spoken to so suddenly. "Me, sir?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, polite yet surprised. He didn't recognise the man in front of him - had they spoken before? "Je vous prie de m'excuser, monsieur. I am truly terrible at names. Have we met before?"

[reveryfm]

Goodness, [ CLAUDE DE CHANTERELLE ] has arrived! [ HE ] is [ 38 ] , of the [ FRENCH ] [ DE CHANTERELLE’S ], and a [ DUKE ] .  They are [ NEW ]  to England and the season and their family holds the [DUTCHY OF CHARTRES  ]. This author has heard they are  [ DIPLOMATIC ] but also [ CALCULATING ]. Accompanied by [ NO ONE ] , there is much talk of their arrival and accepting calls but be warned: I have heard they  [ ARE SELECTIVELY LOYAL ]!

 full name: Claude De Chanterelle date of birth: 29th July 1776 (38, as of 1814) height: 6.0" faceclaim: Sebastian Stan title: Duke of Chartres 

Born to an old, wealthy noble family in France, Claude grew up in a world that vanished almost overnight when the Revolution came. His father was executed in 1793, his estates seized, and his family scattered, every man (and woman) for themselves. At seventeen, Claude fled France under cover of night, aided by a loyal servant who paid with his life when they were discovered at a checkpoint. 

He spent his early exile drifting between courts, learning languages, manners, and, most importantly, how to survive without a country backing him. Though officially stripped of his title, he never relinquished it privately, always using it to introduce himself. In England, he adopted a careful persona: a displaced aristocrat, easy enough to talk to but distant with his private life - something no one could truly blame him for, not in his position. 

Fluent in several languages and intimately familiar with the shifting loyalties of French lords, he became an informal intermediary between British officials and French royalist networks, secretly passing information between both sides. By 1814, with Napoleon’s first fall and the Bourbon restoration underway, his title and his lands were “reinstated” (aka, he paid a nice sum for the return of his title). 

However, instead of returning to France, Claude has decided to spend some time in England still - having been living there for a handful of years, he had grown fond of the country, and this Season would be the first time he dared step into the public eye fully.

In truth, staying in London is a calculated move for many reasons. He can avoid any remaining enemies from the revolution. He doesn’t trust the newly reinstated monarchy and the unstable political environment. And most of all, he simply fears what he will face if he goes back. 

Personality

Claude is not one to panic, always remaining composed even under pressure, though it can sometimes come across as prideful. His secret work during he wars taught him the skill of diplomacy and strategy, and his travels have left him cultured. However, he remains distrustful, and his loyalty is based purely upon whatever might aid his survival - in a way, he is still living in fight or flight mode, despite having decided to settle. He remains emotionally guarded as well as secretive, and if he had to give himself a label, it would be morally flexible and charming.