Closed After-Dinner Introductions
There were always all sorts coming and going in the guest rooms, some seemed permanent and others seemed to disappear within a night. Madswitte was such a very popular fellow, Anatole could scarcely believe the town had gone nearly deserted because of his supposed unpalatable personality just a short while ago. His Lordship seemed quite gay and always the centre of conversation at dinner. 

At dinner's conclusion on this night, he happened to see a face he didn't recognize - some son of a lord or lord with a lord's son. How could one ever keep track? So he took it upon himself to approach the young man as the company got to its feet and scattered about the manor for the evening on their own whims.

"Beg pardon sir, but I don't believe we've been introduced! I'm Anatole Morin."
As the greater number of the party departed the main dining room, the women at large upstairs and the men to the parlour, Oliver took his time. He had learnt there was little point in rushing anything in life, especially with a life as troublesome as his own. As such, he lingered until he was almost the last man, aside from the staff who had yet to begin cleaning the table. 

At first, he did not realise someone had fallen in beside him, though when the man spoke Oliver glanced in his direction and belatedly realised he was being spoken to. It was not that he found himself ignored, but rather that his naturally demure nature did tend to keep people from making a scene regarding him. 

"Oh, yes - A pleasure, Mister Morin." While not prepared for the introduction, Oliver was had good manners drilled into him from a very young age, "Oliver Savile, Lord Elland." He offered the other man his hand to shake, being very fond of the far more modern and equitable greeting than those favoured by their forefathers. 

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but you are the singer, aren't you?" While he might have gone unnoticed, Oliver liked to remain apprised of whom he was keeping company with, yet another trade drilled into him as a child. 
"Likewise, m'lord. And I am!" He beamed, shaking his hand, though at first his arm faltered. How tactile a greeting, the likes of which he'd not oft been offered these days. "What occasion has brought you to Madsmoor? If I may inquire?"
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance Mister Morin, " Oliver replied without pause, manners having been drilled into him from the beginning of his life. It was the first time he had really met a singer before. Of course, he had met them when living in London, but giving a quick greeting after a performance was a vastly different thing to being alone with one. He could already imagine his mother sticking her nose up at the young man, she had never been very fond of artists or performers, regardless of their skill. 

Oliver gave a small, private chuckle. Yes, what did bring him to Madsmoor? It was not an easy question to answer and nor was it a short one. Given that his family estate was mere miles away from the estate, it almost seemed silly for him to be anywhere else.

"It is a very long story." He decided to go with, not yet ready to bear his soul to a man he had just met. As his mother would have said, private things were often better kept private. "But, I am happy to be here and enjoy the serenity." Now that was the truth of it. 

"And you? Why are you visiting?" It was only fair to ask since the same had been asked of him.
"Ah," 'serenity' was not the first of adjectives he'd ascribe to Madsmoor. But that was of the manor itself, the chill in the air, the dust, the dark corners. Perhaps Lord Elland meant of the natural moors; the mists, the crags and heather, "of course. Me? Why, the Marchioness is my patron. I first came at her request, to entertain the family. And then I became an employee of the theatre. Her ladyship is ever so kind to let me live in the manor while I work there. But of course, I am still an entertainer for the house, if you should ever request a performance." He bobbed his head excitedly.

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