It was quarter to eight in the evening by the time the cab pulled into the gates of the Cornack Manor, a newer Peugeot that was driven with pride by a man who had served in the merchant navy during the war and had saved his money to afford the vehicle. He claimed driving was his passion and years of being trapped on a large ship without feeling the ground beneath his feet helped put things in perspective for him. While the driver was a friendly man and it certainly helped pass the drive from Birmingham to Derbyshire, Lucian DuBois had rather wished for a few moments to his own thoughts as he stared out the window at the hated white power that engulfed the countryside like some form of evil marmalade that sucked the warmth and comfort from the world around it. Even with a fur-lined coat and thick gloves, the chill seemed to seep through the layers like tendrils that wished to finish what it started in the trenches over a decade ago. The Frenchman pulled his arms tighter around his waist, despising seeing his own breath and suddenly very much so missing the tropical climate he’d grown rather accustomed to. 

Mercifully, the car pulled up to the front doors of the commanding stone-walled mansion that was likely worth more than Lucian would see in a lifetime. The driver hopped out before Lucian did and immediately had the trunk open, pulling free the duffle bag and suitcase that  had been his customer’s possessions and once paid his fare, took off back into the night, quite merrily given the abysmal weather and the fact he had another close to two hour trip back to Birmingham. Lucian shouldered the duffle bag, supporting it by a strap and picking up the suitcase with another as he approached the door, which opened before him to show a dapper man he assumed was the butler. 

“Monsieur DuBois, I presume?” The impeccable enunciation came from beneath a neatly trimmed mustache. Lucian nodded affirmatively. “Allow me to bid you welcome on behalf of Master Cornack. With your permission, I will take your coat and luggage for you. There are already some of your compatriots waiting in the banquet hall.” He said with a gesture.

Lucian had set his bags down and had removed his coat, folding it nicely over an arm for the butler to take. “[I]Merci[/I]…” Lucian said, his voice trailing off invitingly.

“Bertram.” The man replied with a polite bow. Lucian nodded appreciatively.

“Bertram.” Lucian repeated. “Thank you for your hospitality.” 

With that, Lucian adjusted the sleeves of the thick green wool sweater he wore and the sky blue scarf about his neck and proceeded down the corridor, only sparing the most minute glances towards his surroundings. He felt it prudent to not gawk like a tourist while a guest in someone’s home, and he had never been one to indulge in the ostentatious.  

The banquet hall opened up before him, and the few bodies that occupied it seemed to be lost in the magnificently large room, which would have been much more suitable for hosting a wedding reception than conduct a business meeting, for which Lucian felt a study would have been a far more adequate space. There was another man, younger than him by a few years who looked like he hailed from the Mediterranean, like a Sicilian or Greek.  Lucian offered the man a courteous nod before taking in the fetching Indian woman in quite a marvelous blue dress; Lakshmi simply always carried herself like a woman who belonged in film, or mingling with the upper crust of society. It made the short, but warm, history between the two of them all the more curious. Whereas she was a woman of exotic origin who had always carried herself with an air of proper aristocratic flare and carried a carefully cultivated appearance that commanded attention, Lucian was always a man of practicality and some might have described it as rustic charm. City life had long ceased to have much charm for the Frenchman as he detested crowds of soft, clueless people who had never connected with the natural world, except for throwing stones at pigeons, maybe.  As such, he dressed for comfort and casual attire most of the time; he could not recall the last time he had worn a tie. 

Lucian approached Lakshmi, taking her hand and gently kissing it through his thick beard. “Lakshmi, a pleasure. I do hope you have been in good health and fortune since our last meeting.” Lucian said as a greeting before taking a seat two spots down from her to give her a respectful distance that still made conversation easy. He adjusted in his seat, pulling it closer to the table and folding his hands on the tablecloth.