Mrs Beauregarde Novels & Stories

The office was just as luxurious as the rest of the mansion. A large desk sat near the window, while bookshelves filled one side of the room. "Sit." I immediately obeyed. The woman settled into her chair and folded her hands neatly on top of the desk. "Margaret informed me about you." "Yes, ma'am." Her sharp eyes studied me carefully. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then she finally introduced herself. "My name is Beatrice Villareal. I am the Head Maid of Hilton Mansion." I straightened instinctively.

Rosalie stated confidently, the man looking unperturbed. "That trail ran cold a long time ago, sweetheart." The man told her. "I am here to review the information and that is what I'll do." "And who are you again?" "Rosalie Allegro." She informed, standing straight before him. "Commissioner Allegro's daughter," "Right, and I'm the President of England." The man chortled sarcastically.

Why send it to me and not Charlotte's parents or even the Police? "Genie, are you ok?". Maise looks at me concerned with her big brown eyes. She's as blonde as I am dark. People would describe us as polar opposites but we work well together and have even formed a friendship outside of work. "I'm ok Maisie. Sorry, I'm preoccupied today. I received some unusual news this morning and I'm trying to decide what to do about it".

I scanned the place. I am sure. This is the place where I dropped off Magda last time. I can't be wrong. I spoke in the back of my mind. I wonder why Bel is the one who was here. Just in case Bel and Magda are the same people—No! No! It's impossible. I protested. If you take a look, Bel has a sun-kissed skin tone while Magda is fair. Bel has shoulder-length hair while Magda is long. The woman who's with me now is tall, while Magda just has an average height.

"I've never seen such beautiful dresses as these, Miss. You will look terrific in them. Why don't you try them on?" Mary's cheerful voice snapped Marguerite from her sad musings. She turned to see her maid picking a muslin dress in her favorite color and showed it to her with a wide expectant grin. Any woman would leap in joy, but Marguerite just shook her head. As her maid turned to put the dress back in place, Marguerite glanced listlessly at the colorful stack of thirty brand new dresses inside her closet. Today her order from Madame Le Veaux had just shipped and Mary had just done storing them in her closet, but even a wardrobe full of beautiful dresses could do little to dispel the gloo

She barked after me but I could only shoot her an apologetic look before I locked the door. The ride to the office was rushed as I floored it, hoping I wouldn’t get into an accident. I had a few more interviews with Jean-Pierre’s potential matches before I was free for Mrs. Beaumont’s party and whoever had come to inquire for her services. It was strange that Mrs. Beaumont never mentioned who they were. But I guess surprises couldn’t be that bad. It was 11 by the time I got there. Aaron Wiler seemed like a patient guy but in the world of dating and marriage, people knew how to keep up a good front.

Grandma beamed in her usual jovial tone I approached Mrs. William and greeted her. She responded politely, her demeanor elegant, as if sand have never touched her skin before “How was your journey? I heard you traveled to Paris,” I inquired. She nodded gracefully, her movements refined. Grandma signaled to the assistant, who promptly began presenting an array of wedding gowns, outfits, and jewelry. We looked through numerous selections, each more exquisite than the last. Finally, Grandma insisted I try on a particular wedding gown. As I headed to the fitting room, Grandma suggested Mrs. William accompany me to assist.

“Bonjour?” A rich, accented voice replied. “Madame Blackwell, this is Margot Fontaine from Paris Fashion Week Committee. We are honored to invite you and Maison Élitaire as our guest of distinction for this year’s showcase. Paris is buzzing with your name. Everyone wants to see the woman behind the brand.” Elena’s heart skipped. “That’s… that’s incredible. Thank you so much, Margot.” “You deserve it, ma chère,” Margot said warmly. “The entire industry awaits your presence. And, of course, Mr. Blackwell’s as well. We’ll send official details shortly. Welcome to the grand stage.”

She rode her car and speed off to the Eastwood's mansion for ten minutes. The moment she stepped out, she dared not to be amazed with how big and fairytale looking it was, she ran towards the gate and asked the guard. "Please tell Marcus Eastwood, I need to talk to him! I am Bea Cor- Bea!" She didn't continued telling her surname, or else she might not be even announced knowing that her family is now being screwed by the public. Marcus just got out of the jacuzzi when he was disturbed by a maid telling Bea's request, he knew she will come so he nodded and told them to let her in.