"Oh." She replied. She leaned forward to study the book. A faint smile flickered over her face. "Explain it to me? Not the notebook, the…weather thing." She looked at Francis again, her eyes curious. She looked almost like a female version of Jack, but the two were as different as different could be. Jack, the rogue flirt, as compared to Elizabeth, the calm, lady-like girl.
“Of course,” kept his eyes on the page. He pointed to the first note he made. “Well, this is the temperature in the morning, and the time the sun rose that day.” He pointed to the next line, “And this is the direction of the wind at noon, the rising temperature, and the type of clouds. It was about to storm that day so the sky was really overcast with dark cumulonimbus clouds.” He glanced up to her face every once in a while to make sure she was still following his train of thought.
She nodded a little, following along. "Hm. Alright. So…can it be used to predict the next day's weather, too? And how far into the future?" she asked, raising her eyebrows a little bit. "Or…is only that day possible?" she seemed like a bright, curious girl, whereas her brother…her brother was bright, but he seemed to have wasted it all on drinking and gambling and screwing around. It was a shame that Elizabeth could not be the heir.
“Oh! With patterns we can determine what’s a cold front and what’s a warm front, and what’s coming next. It’s very useful to know if there’s going to be rain in the next few days so I know when to plan a picnic,” he grinned. He loved Picnics, and planning them for a loved one, but he hadn’t planned one for quite some time. “But on occasion the weather does unpredictable things, and my forecast is wrong. To answer your question, it’s easy enough to predict the weather a couple days in the future. At least for me, I’m no professional.”
(I gtg to bed now. Good night!)
Elizabeth laughed a little, and nodded. "Ah, alright. That's actually really interesting." she replied slowly, cocking her head a little bit and thinking. "So…you can predict the weather for up to a few days. Which would be useful, but what if you wanted to know if a date, say…a month away would be sunny? Would you be able to figure that out?"
(Oke doke! Good night!)
He pursed his lips in thought, glancing off to the side. “Hm, I suppose I technically could, but it won’t be accurate at all. It would be as close as an educated guess. It’s mostly accurate within five days,” he admitted. He thought for a moment longer, and then looked back with a smile, “To know for certain, I would have to wait five days until said date.
(actually I might be on for a bit longer, idk)
She nodded a little. "Hmm. Alright." she replied, looking at him interestedly. "At least it's a somewhat useful skill." she shrugged. "And who knows? Perhaps at some point in the future, we will be able to predict a month out." she smiled a bit.
“Hm,” Francis echoed, glancing sideways at her with a small smile. “Perhaps, I would love to see that someday, if it doesn’t happen in some hundred years in the future,” he chuckled at that. “Maybe a hundred years in the future the weather will be predicted so accurately that people think meteorologists are time travelers,” he offered, bringing a hand to his chin. He turned to the next page, where there were sketches of the clouds that day. “I’m not a great artist, but I like to think I can replicate clouds well enough.”
Elizabeth let out a small laugh at that. She leaned forward a little to better see the drawings of the clouds, and nodded. "Hm. They look decent." She replied with a faint, teasing smile. "I mean…if I saw them in the sky I might be a little frightened, but for drawings they aren't terrible." Her eyes flickered to his face for a moment.
Jack sighed loudly, slouching in his seat and propping his feet up on Elizabeth's bench seat.
“Hah! Good. But to be honest, if I saw charcoal clouds, I would be terrified too,” he chuckled, catching her gaze. His cheeks were lifted with a content grin. For a moment, his gaze was broken to glance over at Jack. He arched his brow at him, then returned his attention to Elizabeth. “I have a few books explaining meteorology in my luggage if you’re interested. I would be happy to loan them to you,” he offered.
Elizabeth smiled again. "That sounds interesting. If you are sure I may, could I?" She replied, raising her eyebrows a little bit. She shifted in her seat, adjusting her skirts again.
"God, just propose already!" Jack complained. "I'm sure father will bless it. Then you can get my inheritance too." He looked up at the ceiling, rolling his eyes.
Francis shot Jack a fiery glare. He would have snapped a comeback, but he couldn’t think of a good one right off so he just shook it off and replied to Elizabeth. “Of course! I don’t have too much use for them anymore, I’ve already put most of them to memory. So keep them as long as you need,” he bounced the heel of his foot happily, although his contentment was dwindled by Jack’s comment. I’m not going to propose to her! Or pursue…anything, she’s just a friend, he assured himself.
Elizabeth blushed at Jack's words, shaking her head at her brother. "Jack, I am 15. I do not think he would marry me off quite yet." She said calmly. She looked at Francis, and nodded. "Alright. Thank you." She said. Though her smile was now a little forced, a little less bright.
Jack leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes. He didn't know how to fit in anymore. He didn't know how to become part of a conversation without being flirty and innapropriate. All he did was piss people off.
“It’s my pleasure,” Francis replied softly. He smiled through tightened lips and closed his notebook again. His gaze travelled from her face to the window, watching the passing scenery. He crossed his legs gracefully at the ankles and leaned his head back a bit. Most men he knew and heard of first got married sometime in there early twenties, though it was not totally unheard of to be married as early as eighteen. Francis couldn’t imagine finding anyone to court, let alone finding someone to marry.
Elizabeth went back to her book after a moment, paging through it.
Jack sighed softly, shaking his head for a moment. He didn't know how much longer the drive would be, and he knew…he knew that he wouldn't be speaking. If he spoke…God. If he spoke, he would screw everything up. He would.
Francis said nothing as well; he wasn’t sure what to say, or if he knew, who to say it to. He distracted himself with the scenery outside of the window and allowed himself to become lost in thought. He hadn’t been to France for five years, but it seemed like just a blink of an eye. So much had happened since he visited, he’d even become an heir to his father’s title and estate.
Jack peeked over at Francis for a moment. He sighed quietly. So he gets to be handsome and off-limits, and hate me? God doesn't pack his punches, does he? Then again, neither does father, so what was I expecting? He wondered, catching his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. He wished desperately that he could just be normal, like anyone else. Love the right people. But he preferred other men, even if he liked both sexes. And he knew, he knew what that meant for him.
Francis scratched his arm over his sleeve, breathing out through his nose. Jack’s comment about proposing made him think about his own love life, which was practically nonexistent. He wasn’t normal and he knew it—he just wouldn’t let himself show it. He knew he noticed more men than women, and he knew he imagined holding a man that he loved in his arms more than he imagined holding a woman. He knew there was no socially acceptable way to feel that, or express it. Although it was nice to imagine—to futilely hope—until the time came to get married. He couldn’t be so open about it as Jack was; it would ruin his whole family, and his inheritance.
Jack knew that he would never get the sort of love that his sister might have. Open, able to walk together and hold hands. Jasper, the only man he had ever thought that maybe…maybe they could be something…back at Eton. But then the principal had found out. His father had found out. His father had beat him to hell for it, and Jack had no idea what had happened to Jasper.
Francis had never had a real relationship, just silly courtships with girls when he was much younger. He had his brother’s advice then, and it was a simpler time. Like when didn’t have complicated questions to ask himself about who he really liked and what to do about it. Things got complicated when he couldn’t ask his brother for advice. There was a boy, a sweet boy who he studied with at a tutor, and Francis wanted to say something to him. He never did.
Jack shifted, letting out a slow breath. He would have to get married eventually. Have to find a wife, have a child. It wouldn't be hard, he just knew that…that he wouldn't have love in a marriage like that. That he and his wife would both be left wanting. Him, because he would want to be held and and to hold someone, another man, not her. She, because she would want the same thing, and he wouldn't be able to give it to her in any way that meant anything.
Francis had come to terms with the fact that he would have to get married in the future, and that it would have to be a woman. There was no other option. He found women attractive, and he knew he would be able to love her, but he wasn’t sure if he could ever be completely satisfied. He would just have to find the right woman for him, right? Maybe he would find her in the tour, wouldn’t that be neat? He looked down to his hands, which were cradling his book in his lap.
Elizabeth was reading still, her feet tucked up and her attention focused on her book.
Jack let out a breath again. After a few more minutes, the carriage stopped in front of a beautiful house, and a man came out to greet them as servants opened the doors and began to unload everything.
"Welcome!" His voice carried a strong French accent. "Est-ce que tu parles français? Ou l'anglais est-il préféré?"
Jack blinked, mystified as he climbed out of the carriage.
"En anglais s'il vous plaît. Mon frère ne peut pas parler français, j'ai peur." Elizabeth said as she came out.
"Ah! Jack cannot speak French, no?" The man replied in English, his accent strong. "That will have to be remedied."
Francis dipped out of the carriage right behind Elizabeth, holding onto the side as he stepped down the keep his balance. “Bonjour…” he murmured in reply to the Frenchman.
He caught a few of the words they spoke, but he didn’t remember enough to formulate an answer to the conversation. So he just let Elizabeth speak, thankful that they would be speaking English now. He adjusted his stance to stand like he did when he first met Jack: feet shoulder width apart and spine straight. Posture was very important, he reminded himself. He put on a cordial expression, waiting for the proper time to introduce himself.
The Frenchman bowed to Francis, Jack, and Elizabeth. "I am Pierre DeFúnt. Welcome to France!" He said with a smile. "As it would seem some of you do not speak French, I shall speak English. May I have your name, sir?" He looked at Francis.
Jack returned the bow, quiet.