Jane had been talked into a trip to town to visit a friend of her mother's who was staying at the nicer of the hotels.  Though of course Jane going anywhere required a large carriage designed specifically for her chair to be carried at the back.  There was also a male servant to lift it down and move it around outside and her personal maid that would push the chair around inside buildings.  Both these two wore black outfits with the man with a white shirt, and the maid with a white collar with her white apron. 

Once the large wicker wheelchair had been moved with Jane in it to the lounge area.  The male servant went to stay with the carriage and the driver.  The maid stayed with Jane while Jane's mother went up to the desk to find out what room her friend was in.  Jane, in the means way, looked around.  She had a soft rose copper-toned dress, with a matching hat with a sash of off white that went around the brim.  She noticed a piano, and bit her bottom lip.  There were not that many people there, as it was before luncheon and most were going to find food or working.

Motioning her maid to the piano, she decided to wait for her mother and the friend to come back down to the lobby keeping herself from being bored by playing.  She had seen people play pianos at hotels before.  Here even when she was smaller, she had played it then too much to her mother's annoyance.  She didn't mind being looked at for playing.  The chair though was still not a comfortable focus of those around her.

The maid helped her move over to the piano bench and pushed the wheelchair over against the wall nearby but not too closely to the piano.  Jane let her fingers over the pearls and smiled.  She couldn't help it.  It was her happy place.   The maid smiled as well standing back from the young woman.  The household enjoyed hearing the young miss play, and it was good to have her home again, though all were sad for the situation, of course.

Then a light lovely melody began to trickle through the room, drawing the few people to look over and some moved closer to listen to the player.   Jane didn't really notice the people anymore, as her music had taken over her thoughts and emotions.

Superficially speaking, Chéri had made a bad financial choice in coming here. Darius’s money needed to be put to good use and using it to get tea and something sweet at the local hotel could easily be seen as a frothy extravagance, if one didn’t consider that Chéri aimed to a much, much higher income than that of a life model. For that, he needed a “friend” who could afford it. And those friends were not necessarily going to go the Diamond Pony. In fact, some of them might prefer the idea of bumping into a beautiful, lonely young man that just happened to be extremely attracted to them and in need of some money.

It was a strategy, but since Chéri didn’t know the place very much, he was going to try all the strategies he knew from Paris to fill the position currently vacant in his life.

Chéri came across at first as a very young, refined man with an impeccable wardrobe: today he was wearing one of the two outfits he still had from Paris, a pastel blue three-piece suit with a lavender vest and a slightly darker blue cravat and a forget-me-not in the great pocket. The jacket created a beautiful palette with his peachy skin, his green eyes, and his rich brown hair, but his most striking quality wasn’t his angelic face or his petite yet strong physique, but rather the incredible amount of energy he seemed to have every time he moved and the beautiful light he had in his eyes. Even almost completely still, Chéri looked incredibly lively.
He was concentrating on studying how to eat elegantly from a lady at a nearby table when he heard that: someone was playing the piano.

Chéri walked towards tthe piano, like a sailor hearing the song of a siren, his steps virtually weightless. He didn’t even know how he got there, right next to the lady playing. He kept his eyes on her fingers and was completely transfixed. Halfway through, he realised something: he knew this song. From behind her, his baritone voice started softly to accompany that of the piano, not too loud, not too low, while his eyes stayed on the fingers, leading the way.

Jane blinked hearing the pleasingly soft voice as she was playing.  She smiled softly and continued to play.  The maid moved closer to the side of the bench to keep an eye on the situation.  She cared about the young lady, but also if anything happened to Jane, it would be her job that is lost.  The voice was nice and the man seemed to be safe enough.  The maid did not move back to the nearby wall but relaxed her stance, letting Jane lead her in what should be done.

Jane finished the piece to hear the applause from the few people around the lobby.  She looked over to see who had been nearby.  "Very nice voice, sir."  She said politely.  She had not been able to do the foot pedals of the piano of course, but her playing had still made it quite lovely.  She glanced around and her mother had not yet returned with the family friend from where she was staying.

Jane knew she should not be visiting with someone not known to her, but she had her maid there as a chaperone so wasn't worried about being improper.

Chéri spoke very little English and most likely the words he had just heard had no meaning to him, when isolated, but in the context he knew to do, so he gallantly bowed, to thank the lady of the shared musical experience. He smile in his extraordinarily warm fashion and stepped forward, so that she didn’t have to completely change her wheelchair’s direction to be able to look at him as they talked.

“You play beautifully and with sentiment, they don’t always go together” Chéri said… in French. The lady seemed fairly elegant, similar to the ones Chéri had seen in Paris, so he felt confident enough to try to chat. They still had time for pantomimes.

Jane smiled hearing him speak in French.  She had taken classes at school to learn the language though it was not fluent.  She took the compliment with a blush and a bow of her head to thank him.  "*Merci beaucoup. Votre voix correspond également au sentiment."

She continued in French.  "Please forgive my French.  It has been a few years since I was learning to speak in your language and even then I would have preferred to be out with my horse or at the piano at the time."  She admitted with an educated manner, and quite properly polite, but also in a friendly manner.  





*Thank you so very much.  Your voice fit in to the sentiment as well.

Chéri smiled again, showing enthusiasm. She had made him, in fact, a small favour, but he seemed to treat it like a grand and unexpected honour. “Do you always play like this?” It was an odd question, but it didn’t look bad on an odd person.

And then she immediately apologised. Chéri had learnt his own French hearing people shouting on the streets, taverns and back alleys and it was only his aptitude to imitation that prevented his speech to resemble a fishmonger dialect waved his hand in assurance, but failed to add words. Maybe a signed of his imperfect manners? However, he continued “I can see that. One cannot achieve such skills without lots of exercise. Do you play professionally?” Chéri had no idea most upper-class ladies had some music education but hardly ever played publicly. And if he did, he might think them all as proficient as Jane. He put his hands behind his back, assuming the pose of most gentlemen. His speech, even in French, was not especially refined, but his speaking voice was very beautiful.

In short: it was not too hard to clock him as not a born-and-raised gentleman, but not so easy to label him correctly.

She shook her head and continued in French.  "No, I was able to use the pedals but the accident has left that part of the playing not as well as I would like to."  She was honest and that she was in the wheelchair was quite obvious just likely not how extreme it had been. 

"I play a lot now though.  It relaxes me."  She smiled.  Her voice was crisp of a person that had been taught from birth to speak properly, but since the accident, and time with so many medical specialists, nurses, and the nuns, she had added more warmth to her words and friendliness.  Having been talked around her and through her between the doctors and her parents, she saw people more humanly and tried to make sure when she spoke that they knew she listened to what they said no matter who they were.

She could not figure out the culture the man had come from, but he was nice and she was enjoying the visit.  Someone that just spoke to her without looking at her with pity or looked to be trying to find a way to get away from the invalid.  In fact, this man had come over to sing with her playing and was continuing to visit with her.  

"No, not professionally." She responded.  "I like many young ladies will perform in the parlor for gathering among each other and for the family.  I have been in a few recitals.  Back when I was still in school and was only the other girls there in the school as it was good example or something like that."  She shrugged.

Chéri laughed, too loud, too disorderly, but in a very warm and sincere fashion “No, I meant if you are always so… good.” He lacked an elegant vocabulary, even in French, but his amazement and enthusiasm were more than evidently conveyed by his body, barely keeping in position, constantly pushing him slightly, his expression, and obviously, his laughter.

Chéri nodded “I get the feeling serenes sonatas must be something you are very good at. Or do you have a different favourite?” Was he working up to a more in-depth, specific question. It wasn’t immediately clear. What was clear was his hyper-focus: he had literally taken to ignore the whole room except Jane, his eyes still gleaming.

At her following response, Chéri pressed the lips together, without failing to smile, but started his next statement with an “I see.” Chéri nodded and massaged his jaw “I… don’t suppose I could persuade you to play again for me?” He was wondering “Not just now, somewhere else. You see, I am… I was a dancer and I would like to practice again. Even just a little. If I don’t do that, I risk losing my abilities. But I need someone who will play for me. And it can’t just be anyone who can put their hands on a piano, it needs to be someone who can feel the music, with great technique and excellent sense of rhythm. You have that.” Chéri stopped. Anything more could, potentially, be discussed further once he had made sure he hadn’t insulted or shocked her. It was an unusual request and in a normal situation, he wouldn’t have had the chance to ask something like that. But because he hardly had had anything to do with real ladies and was in a strange environment, he was asking now. Hoping was allowed, right?

She smiled hearing his laughter.  She had missed hearing such sounds of joy or happiness. The doctors and nurses at the various hospitals were so serious for the most part, and the gentle friendlier (not many of these) nurses had been quiet.  The patients and their families were even quieter with the few exceptions being of sounds of crying or calling out for help.

The time she had spent outside of her appointments had been in homes of friends of the family or fancy hotels.  The people mainly there had been those with refined behaviors.  She had enjoyed getting to know the nuns nearby that had a piano as they had been friendly.  Quiet yes, but outside of worshipping back at the nunnery, they were happy ladies that laughed. 

There had been various ladies from all sorts of backgrounds.  Some had been common folk and others more refined, but there they were sisters and cared about each other.  She didn't know if all such places were like that, but that one had been so.  She had started having her maid roll her over there as often as she could, so much in fact that her parents had started thinking she was thinking of converting to become a nun.  Though when they found out from the maid that she was playing on their piano, they understood and were much more relieved.

Since returning back home and not many laughed around her.  So, this with Cheri was a joy.  She responded to his comment.  "At school mainly the standards and classics.  Though my mother has an enjoyment of Gilbert and Sullivan, Offenbach, and the like, so I learned them to play them with her and then for her when she is sewing."  She smiled.

His next statements and question had her pause.  Rubbing her lips together, as she thought about it, she was torn.  A proper young lady would not even consider such an idea.  Her parents would be shocked and definitely say she should not even be considering it.  However, it had caught her curiosity. 

She glanced at the maid and got a frown from that quarter.  She gave a wave of her hand toward her maid as to say you are bad as my mother would be.  Jane ran her fingers over the pearls considering to think.  Her parents have encouraged her to get around people more often, and out of the house as well.

She looked to Cheri.  "Where would this be?" 

She was not sure yet, but that of course would make a difference.  The chair had to be able to get there, for one.  For two, it could not be in a place to make it seem she is seeing a man privately.  It was one thing to not be fit for a suitable husband due to her accident, but she did not plan to ruin herself in the view of society.  Then she gave a wry glance at her legs.  What was worse, having people pity for her or people seeing that she could have an active life even with legs that don't work?

Chéri did not seem to feel the need, moral or social, to behave any different around her than he would have around any other lady. His main struggle seemed to be acting like someone who had the social status to talk to Jane at all rather than talking to a wheelchair user. She described some of her interests that were more modern and when she mentioned Offenbach, Chéri smiled broadly. He hummed one of the most famous arias from “Les contes d’Hoffmann” and commented “You like very touching things, mh? No Ave Maria for you” he seemed completely unaware of how debatable his observation was. It could have sounded like a brilliant provocation, had Chéri not broken one of his rare dandy moments by brushing his hair quickly, like a cat would have scratched behind its ear. In short, their manners were still erratic.

For the answer he wanted, Chéri waited very patiently. It was an odd question indeed, without even considering the whole breach of etiquette this constituted, but the answer wasn’t a no. It was another question. Chéri made sure to look more serious now, but also patient and not at all eager “I don’t know. I have to find a place.” He didn’t push or specify anything more, since he didn’t want to overwhelm her.

While she reflected, Chéri kept smiling, with the intention of making it clear that he would have taken whatever answer she intended to give without any consequence. Also, he knew himself and knew just how good he was at convincing people by smiling and laughing, so he forced himself not to do that, his mouth locked in position.