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Mr Rochester meets Céline Varens

Originally posted 3 April 2010 on a different blog.

Another hand-written draft. This was written shortly after having watched some of the 2006 adaptation, so I felt as if Rochester’s voice was coming through loud and clear for the first time, because it was as if I could hear him speak, telling his story, and me being there to write it down. It was rather pleasurable, really. 🙂 And yes, it’s back to first person, because it felt like the most natural way to write Rochester.

I suppose I should tell you of how I came in possession of the litthe French girl, but in order to do so, I must first introduce her mother. Céline Varens, a danseuse at the Paris opera, where I happened to be taking in a fine performance one night.

It was the day before New Year’s Eve, the event spectacular, yet I can no longer recall the subject of the performance. There was this young woman among the dancers – everything so perfect, just what I was after. Her dark eyes mesmerised me; I could not leave her out of my sight for one second. Truly, this must be her, the woman who would make me happy at last.

The next day, there was a ball at the opera house, where I saw her again; her beuaty even more exquisite up close. Her dark curls carefully arranged, her lips red and waiting to be kissed. We danced, she told me her name was Céline Varens and I got to take her home that night.

Her abode, although that would be far too grand a description for such a wretched place, was not suited for a woman of such beauté magnifique that I insisted her moving to a more pleasant accomodation in a hôtel of high renown.

At first, she thought I was merely joking, but no, as soon as she realised I was worth more than a dance, some flowers and a lift/ride home, she was eager to please. No expenses spared. I was well and truly lost, thinking she was the one.

She led me on, you know! Oh, she was cunning and she played me like the blind fool I was. Her every whim was catered for; beautiful dresses, jewels, perfume, flowers, gifts, nearly ruining myself in the process because she was that intoxicating. Always reassuring of her admiration for me, she had me wrapped around her little finger.

Apologies if any French bits are awful – it’s been 12 years since I studied French and I never was very good at it to begin with. A problem with this is that it’s telling and not showing how he met and started courting Céline. It needs to not just have him telling the story in a paraphrasing way, it needs to be THERE, SHOWING how it happened, actually have both of them there, talking, letting things take their course.

Traxy Thornfield

A Swedish introvert residing in Robin Hood Country (Nottingham, UK) with a husband and two cats. She's an eager participant in tabletop and play-by-post roleplaying, woodworking, photography and European travel, when there's not a plague on. Might get a novel out one of these days, if she doesn't get too distracted along the way.

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