Mrs Beauregarde Novels & Stories

It always makes me laugh. "Goo après-midi, mesdames!"(Good afternoon, ladies!) A blonde-haired short female is practically running towards us in her high heels and a bright smile on her face. She comes to hug Mrs. Dimitri. Both exchange air kisses on the sides of each other's faces. "It's been a while, Beaut." She gushes. "Yeah, it has. Meet my daughter-in-law, who is the reason I'm here in your shop again. Maurie, meet Davinia. Davinia, meet Maurie, the designer, and the owner of Marcil."

Before I could respond, Mrs Hargrove clapped her hands, drawing everyone's attention. "Welcome to Château Beaumont! I'm sure you'll find your stay both educational and... transformative." Her eyes lingered on me for a moment too long. "The staff will direct you to your assigned rooms. Dinner will be served at seven in the main dining hall." A man in period costume stepped forward, his white powdered wig and embroidered coat so authentic it made me dizzy. "This way, please. Ladies to the east wing, gentlemen to the west." "East wing," I whispered to Thomas. "That's where..."

"What? No! Marcus, darling, surely you're not serious? I'm Caroline Dubois! My family are your most important clients!" Marcus's expression remained unyielding. "Ms. Dubois, while we deeply value your patronage, our policy is based on confirmed appointments and arrival times. Miss Sage was here first and her reservation predates yours for this specific slot. I will be attending to Miss Sage now." A triumphant surge went through me. Victory! Sweet, sweet victory. Caroline, on the other hand, looked like she'd been slapped. Her perfect composure shattered, replaced by a furious scowl.

Only Directors have Sigma clearance. This means that not even Karen Anderson is able to check her own file. It seems a trifle strange. Ingrid has checked her own file quite a few times out of curiosity. She knows that if the company turned against her and wanted her dead they would probably not make it public on the company intranet. With this revelation, her lip twitches ever so slightly into a sneer. She whispers, so that the other inhabitant of the room won’t hear. “So if that’s the case Karen, why the hell do the Directors have your personnel record locked up?”

She bought the dress without trying it on and left. I stared at the card in my hand. **Genevieve Moreau - Couture** This couldn’t be real. Things like this didn’t happen. Not to me. But the card was real. Heavy stock. Embossed lettering. An address in one of the most expensive districts in Paris. My hands were shaking. “Are you alright?” My manager, Sophie, had noticed. “Who was that woman?” “Genevieve Moreau. She owns—” “I know who she is. What did she want?”

Harrington, fanning her lightly as per her instructions. “Honestly,” Mrs. Beaumont began, swirling her champagne glass. “She asked me about her garden as though I’d be impressed by a few bushes and a gazebo.” Mrs. Harrington scoffed. “That woman is always trying to outdo herself. It’s embarrassing.” Lila bit her lip to hide her confusion. She didn’t understand what was so funny but knew better than to let it show. As they laughed, the shop manager appeared, a tall, polished man in an impeccable suit. “Ladies, is everything to your satisfaction?”

She and her Aunt, Madame Alarie don’t have a good relationship since the Madame’s chosen styles are just to flashy for her. Madame Heroux stood up, “No, you didn’t interrupt anything, Beatrice. It’s a good thing that you are here.” Margaret Heroux glanced at Monsieur Alarie- her sister’s father in-law- slightly bowed her head down, “It’s good to see you, Monsieur. It’s been a long time since I saw you. Are you doing well?” “Yes, it’s been long since we’ve seen each other, Margaret. I’m doing well as you can see, I’m still standing strong.” The elder Alarie Patriarch stretched his arms out to show how strong he is.

"Mother was thrilled when she heard you owned Meadow Lane. She said if Mrs. Whitaker and Mrs. Beckett are both wearing it, she'll finally have an excuse to replace her wardrobe." Then, Sophie’s thirty minutes was almost up, so she said her goodbye, thanked Jessica for her patronage, and went back to Wright Textile. She was up against an unpredictable battlefield, and she could feel her heart thumping. It had truly been a while. She followed the assistant to Mr. Wright’s office. When the sliding door opened, Sophie took a deep breath. “Mrs. Beckett,” Mr. Wright’s dignified voice carried through the room. His chair turned, revealing his seasoned figure. Each wrinkle on his face a sign of exper

There's even a spiral staircase leading up to the second floor, wrapped around a glass chandelier. I pause. "Jesus... this place is huge. And so damn pretty. Everyone here looks so... expensive. I feel cheap just standing near them." Zayne chuckles and before he can make some smart comment, a voice calls out. "Mr. Beaumont!" A salesgirl in a sleek black uniform walks toward us with that trained retail smile. Her name tag reads Marge. "Welcome back," she says cheerfully. "It's lovely to have you here again. Would you like something to drink? Water? Juice?"

ANNELISE POV In less than an hour, Mrs Léa arrived, her arms laden with a cascade of ivory garment bags that looked too elegant for something as ordinary as swimwear. my patience was already wearing thin, but I didn’t want to start an argument with Cassius, it never ends well. Mrs Léa greeted us both with her usual calm smile, and we did same, almost in sync.