Hybel 6th, 1513 – Fitz-Chivalry estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

The summer sunlight streaming in the windows hit Caroline’s tinted hair, exaggerating the brassiness of the tinting and highlighting the sallow color of her face over the mourning dress that Katherine insisted she wear. The forced laughter didn’t help any. If he lived to be ninety, Brandon would never understand why Katherine insisted that Caroline and Leo be chaperoned. All they ever did was sit and have awkward discussions until one of them lost their tempers. Then one of them would stalk off and sulk and the other would go home.

It was usually Marianne who was stuck with watching this sad pantomime. But she had protested that she had plans to meet “a friend” at the library this afternoon when Katherine had announced that Leo would be coming over and that she was expecting Marianne to chaperone. Well, it was phrased as a request, but all of the Fitz-Chivalry children knew when their mother said something in that tone, it was a demand and it would do them no good to protest it.

She’d looked so disappointed that Brandon had heard himself volunteering before the words had really even finished leaving Katherine’s mouth. Marianne had looked so grateful that he hadn’t even felt bad about subjecting himself to an afternoon of torture. At least until the torture started. He thought as his eyes flickered up over the top of the book that he was using as a shield against his sister and her inane chatter. 

Even now, though, it wasn’t that he was upset at Marianne, she suffered through this every time Leo came around, no, he reserved that for his mother who really thought that this madness was necessary. Leo wasn’t going to ravish Caroline on the parlor sofa with their father in his study in the next room. First of all, he couldn’t imagine any of the Finessas ravishing anyone, which was why he didn’t have too many concerns about the fact that the “friend” Marianne was probably meeting at the library was probably male. And he’d have laid pocket money it was Severus, who probably would have genuflected at Marianne’s feet with more seriousness than at the altar.

Second of all, Henry was in the next room and if Caroline so much as coughed uncomfortably, he’d stick his head out the door to see what was going on. And thirdly, Leo wasn’t stupid. Not to mention that Leo didn’t even seem to want to kiss or touch Caroline, so ravishing her on the sofa was probably as likely as a fae becoming an ironsmith.

So far they’d covered the weather and Leo’s classes at Camford and whether Caroline was enjoying her Hybel break. It all made one of Brother Loki’s lectures seem like a night out at the tavern.

“Um, I think that my mother mentioned that Lord Rance was–a cousin of yours?” Leo said, obviously grasping at straws for something to talk about.

“Well, a second cousin of my mother’s, I think.” Caroline’s eyes flickered in Brandon’s direction and he made a show of turning the page in his book, the last thing that he was going to do was help Caroline out here. If it had been any of his other siblings, he probably would have, but even at Edmund’s most annoying, he held no candles to Caroline. She was on her own here.

“I’m sorry.” Leo said running his finger over a crease on his breeches.

“Well, getting struck by lightning just sort of happens, right?” Caroline said. If she only knew, Brandon thought to himself. If she only knew… “I mean, it’s sad but I think that getting struck by lightning is just–it’s your time, you know?”

“Er. I–I guess?” Leo said awkwardly staring at the arm of the sofa.

“Your father does–something for the king, doesn’t he?” Caroline asked cocking her head to the side.

“So does yours.” Leo said, eyes narrowed slightly.

“Well, aye. But Daddy does stuff for the king in Reme, not in Albion, I was just wondering if–if your father had said anything about Garth.” Caroline asked.

“Who?”

“Cousin Milford’s younger brother.” Caroline told him.

“Nothing…” Leo looked hard at Caroline. “Why?”

“Well, I heard that the council wouldn’t want Adelina for Richard’s guardian because of Rance being near the Reman border.” Caroline said. Brandon frown slightly. Why would Caroline be listening to something like that? Caroline had less interest in politics than pretty much anyone else Brandon knew.

“That–may be.” Leo sounded guarded. “So you’re hoping that they find him?”

“If they don’t find him–doesn’t that mean that they would have to move Rance’s estate to–someone else?” Caroline pressed. Brandon’s eyes flew wide as he figured out what Caroline was asking a half moment too late to stop her from saying anything further.

“Wait–are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Horror crossed over Leo’s face. Unfortunately Caroline, being so shallow if she were a puddle you could cross it in stocking feet and not get your stockings wet, could hardly be deep enough to be saying something else.

“It’s not that I’m hoping they won’t find him, but if they don’t, somebody’s got to attend the estate, if the Rance’s can’t, then there are people who could.”

“I cannot believe, Caroline!” Leo gaped. “I know you want your father to be granted an estate, but to hope that your own kin lose theirs because your father might get it is repugnant.”

“What is repugnant about practicality?” Caroline asked as Brandon mimed for her to stop.

“You wouldn’t know practicality if it bit you in the arse!” Leo’s tone rose sharply.

“Do not swear in front of me, sir!” Caroline gasped.

“That is the very least of the profanity I would like to use directed at you right now. What kind of self-centered bitch would even think that? Certainly not one I would ever care to marry.” Leo climbed to his feet staring down at Caroline.

“And no gentleman, and I do use that term quite loosely, I would care to marry would ever use that kind of language in front of a lady.” Caroline also rose.

“It certainly doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t marry you under any circumstances. Vivi was right about you.” Leo snarled at her.

“Of course, go hide behind the jealous convictions of your precious little Vivianne.” Caroline planted her hands on her hips and sneered.

“Why would Vivi be jealous of you? You’re stupid, rude, self-centered with a mind too shallow to drown a worm in.” Leo said, throwing his hands in the air and storming away. “My father will contact yours about dissolving the betrothal contract. Good day to you, Miss Fitz-Chivalry.”

“Good day to you!” Caroline called before dissolving into tears and throwing herself on the settee. “MOTHER!” Brandon stared at his sister then at the ajar parlor door.

“Brandon?” His father’s voice came from the study door, barely loud enough to hear over Caroline’s hysterical crying. He turned and walked into the study, shutting the door after him when his father mimed for him to do so.

“I am sorry, sir.” Brandon sank into the chair.

“Don’t be. I could hear well enough that I could have interceded if I really thought that it would help anything.” Henry sighed and picked at the cuff of his shirt. “This thing has been falling apart for long enough that I was almost expecting this. Maybe if I move quickly I can repair relations with the Finessas, though I’m certain that your mother will want all contact with them cut off as of immediately.

“But–if we cut off all contact with them–won’t we be losing our chance at ever becoming ennobled?” Brandon asked. “With the close ties that the Finessas have to the crown?”

“Quite possibly. We do live in a monarchy and no matter how much we like to pretend to be above nepotism, it does still exist.” Henry steepled his fingers and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. “Your mother–I hate to put it this way–but your mother is Reman. And the only thing more important to a Reman than power–is revenge.” He sighed. “I have worked in the Reman court too long not to know that. Right now, to your mother, cutting ties to the Finessas for their supposed slight to Caroline will be far more important than whatever help being in good relations with the Finessas would put us in for eventually being ennobled.”

“So–what do we do, sir?” Brandon asked with a wince to the particularly shrill pitch Caroline’s sobbing hit in the next room.

“Well, truth to tell, this couldn’t have come at a worse time, I received a dispatch this morning, I’m going to have to go to the embassy in Reme for a month, six weeks maybe, to hopefully keep the Remans from poking too many sticks at Rance until Garth can be located or another suitable guardian instated.” Henry admitted with a sigh.

“… The Lord Wright has a very peculiar sense of humor, doesn’t he, sir?”

Tyves 10th, 1513 – Fitz-Chivalry estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

“Leo wrote me again.” Caroline fluttered her lashes at Marianne who tried not to cringe. Sunday tea was the worst, being that Sunday was the seventh day, it was Fitz-Chivalry family law that they would all gather for tea. There was no excuse good enough to get out of it, no company to be invited unless said company was staying at the estate with them, which happened about once every blue moon. They were expected to have a couple of cousins come in for Elizabet’s birthday, but that was still a month away.

So today it was just family and it had been and was going to continue to be one of those teas.

“Yes, Caroline, we heard.” Brandon said, throwing a flickery sort of smile across the table at Marianne, who swirled the last bit of tea in her cup.

“Well, Marianne hadn’t heard she wasn’t here when the letter arrived, can’t I share my good news with my favorite sister?” Elizabet would have been brave enough to point out that Marianne was hardly Caroline’s favorite sister. Vivianne would have pointed out that surely Julia already knew, or pouted because Leo bothered to write her at all. Marianne just looked at the lemon slices on the tea plate and peered around the flowers as if looking for the sugar bowl.

“Ah-ah-ah.” Caroline said primly. “You haven’t enough tea left in your cup to even dissolve a second lump and you certainly do not need another lump of sugar. After all, Elizabet’s birthday party is in less than a month and mother doesn’t need to be constantly running to the tailor to have waist let out. Nor will the maids thank you for needing a winch to lace your corset tight.”

“Caroline.” Brandon rolled his eyes.

“Well, if our sister would just watch the amount of sweets she eats, I wouldn’t have to remind her about fitting into her undergarments at tea and you wouldn’t have to hear about her unmentionables.” Caroline said in dulcet tones.

“I was objecting to you “reminding” her of anything at all.” Brandon told her in a blunt, irritated tone. “If she’d like a second cup of tea, or another lump, it’s none of your business. I put twice the cream and sugar into my tea that Marianne did and you didn’t say a word.”

“It’s different for boys. You have your arms practice and your rugby games and your riding to work off that cream and sugar. All Marianne has is her riding three times a week and the walk to the Finessa’s estate for lessons and the walk to the Carico’s estate for lessons.” She shook her head. “And besides, Marianne needs to work on looking her best. She is going to be fifteen at the end of the month.”

“Um, so?” Brandon asked.

“So? She’s fifteen and father hasn’t so much as fielded a nibble of interest in a betrothal in three years of looking.” Marianne ducked her head and looked at the pink table linens as if there were some sort of mystery held there with-in.

“How do you know father hasn’t had any nibbles, Caroline, you know he doesn’t talk with us about things that do not concern us personally.” Brandon pointed out. “He hasn’t told me, so I’m pretty damned sure that he hasn’t told you.”

“With the way Marianne is? You’d be able to tell if she’d had good news.” Caroline said shooting a look at Marianne who was chasing a sandwich crumb around the saucer. “See.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t appreciate us talking about her like she isn’t here.” Brandon sighed. “For which I apologize, Marianne.”

“Oh, you don’t need to apologize for that, Brandon. Marianne wouldn’t have anything to add to the conversation even if we tried to to include her. I don’t know what she’s been doing during her deportment lessons. Or maybe that awful Elizabet is just taking up too much of the teacher’s time.” Caroline sniffed. Elizabet isn’t awful. Marianne thought at her sister. She’s far nicer than you are. At least she saves her cruel jibes for people who deserve it.

“One of the things they teach us in deportment lessons is how not to dominate a conversation and one of the others is how impolite it is to gossip. So far Mother hasn’t had to have a single one of my dresses let out at the waist.” Marianne said. And thought hard at her sister and I can still lace my stays tighter than you can.

“That’s because I’m hear to remind you, like a good big sister should.” Caroline said it with the air of someone patting a dog that had done an amusing trick on the head. Inwardly Marianne snarled and some part of her that had probably spent too much time with Elizabet was throwing itself at the bars of the cage that her mother, her deportment lessons, and that cursed shyness built around her, wanting to say something mean or awful, to make Caroline cringe and hurt.

“Honestly, Caroline, if you’re a “good big sister”, I’d hate to see a shabby one.” Brandon grumbled.

“What is that supposed to mean, Brandon?” Caroline gasped. “Name one shabby thing that I’ve ever done to you!”

“You haven’t ever done anything particularly shabby to me–or to Edmund. But that doesn’t make you a good big sister. I don’t have to listen to you under anyone’s definition of hierarchy. But I’ve seen you do plenty of shabby things to Julia and Marianne.” Brandon said.

“Like what?” Caroline gasped.

“Like embarrass them, harass them, make snide comments, you’re constantly poking Marianne about not being betrothed, engaged, or spoken for. Well I’m almost two years older than Marianne is, and I’m not betrothed, engaged, or spoken for.” Brandon pointed out.

“That is different.” Caroline replied huffily. Before Brandon could roll his eyes and ask how so, she continued. “You’ll be going to Camford and no one will expect you to marry until you graduate. With my dowry and your Camford fees, and no estate, yet, to replenish them, there certainly won’t be the money to send her–” Caroline poked a finger toward Marianne. “To Camford. And even if Father is granted an estate and there is the money to send her to Camford, if she hasn’t at least had a few suitors by then, everyone will assume that she’s a terrible bluestocking. Which is a fine reputation to have when you’re at university.”

Brandon looked at Marianne and she shrugged.

“I am just trying to look out for Marianne. You know that books don’t teach you any sort of sense, Brandon.” Caroline addressed the comment to Brandon, but her eyes were on Marianne. “All they do is stuff your head with candy floss and make you into a ninny.” Marianne bit hard on the inside of her cheek.

Out of the black darkness came the harps of the holy llamas, proclaiming the presence of the Lord Wright, or rather the bells of the cathedral, chiming the None, signalling the time for Marianne’s escape.

“Brandon, Caroline, excuse me, I have–a test to study for tomorrow.” She flashed Brandon an apologetic smile and pushed her chair back from the table.

“Marianne, where are you going?” Her mother asked as she passed their table to head out the garden door–she knew she should’ve used the library door. Oh well, too late now.

“The bells just rang the none, I have an exam to study for tomorrow.” She offered with a flickery, forced smile.

“It’s alright, Marianne, study hard.” Henry interjected before Katherine could do more than start to say Marianne’s name.

“Henry, she’s obviously upset.” Katherine told him before she was barely two steps away from the table.

“I know. And if she’s upset the last thing she needs is to be called out for it in front of an audience.” Henry said.

“We’re all family here.” Katherine objected.

“It isn’t as if family can never say anything that upsets you. Half the disputes I hear about when I’m at court are dealing with brothers who did something to their brothers to cause a grievance. The last two emperors in Reme were taken off the throne by their families.” Henry ticked off before Marianne got far enough out the door to let it shut behind her. She took a deep breath to walk decorously across the courtyard. A Fitz-Chivalry, a Gwynedd, a Reman lady, none of them, ran from the room in tears. No matter what was said to them.

Still, by the time she reached the top of the tall stone stairs that lead up to the second floor of the estate, she was going far faster than a well-bred noble should ever go. She didn’t even pause inside the door before turning and heading up the stone stairwell into her own bedroom.

She flung herself onto her bed, but refused to cry. Caroline and her pettiness, and that was all it was, Elizabet told her so, Vivi told her so, even Mistress Cox had said that Caroline was petty, none of it was worth her tears.

A few moments later she heard the garden door shut firmly and pushed herself to the edge of the bed. She didn’t want to hear the lecture that would surely follow if her mother came into her room and she had her slippers on the edge of the bed.

And it would be her mother, the heels on Katherine’s slippers clacked as she made her way up the stairs and a moment later her head appeared just over the white parquet.

“Marianne, you should be less hard on your sister.” Of course the first words out of Katherine’s mouth would be why Caroline was right and Marianne was wrong. “Come, sit, a daughter of the Gwynedds does not entertain sitting on her bed like a common girl without a whit of manners.” Marianne slid off the bed and walked over to one of the white chairs in front of her bookcase.

Her mother sat with head up, neck arched proudly, just like Marianne’s deportment teacher told them to, spine and shoulders just barely rested against the back of the chair. Was being a proper Gwynedd lady really all about carrying a deportment teacher around in your head all the time? No one would accuse the baroness of being anything but a lady, still she didn’t sit there like she had a book perched on her head and a ruler tied to her spine.

“Your sister, Marianne, is just trying to educate you. To remind you that eyes are on us all the time. From taking another lump at tea or the thick cut slice of ham for your sandwich, one needs to remember we are being watched. And we more than most of noble blood. Your father is close to being granted an estate, if we show common blood or course manner it may never occur.” Marianne frowned just slightly. From what she had learned in her Governance courses that table manners had less than nothing to do with how one was granted lands or a title.

Katherine didn’t even notice. She just continued on. “I did the same thing for my sisters when we were younger.” A traitorous voice in Marianne’s head said and that’s probably why Aunt Anne and Aunt Emma won’t talk with you now.

Her mother sighed. “You have always been of less stern demeanor than Caroline and so I have more concern with you, Marianne. I have never doubted that Caroline was a true daughter of my house. There is much of your father, however, in you. The Fitz-Chivalries have many virtues. But I am not certain that what virtues they possess will serve you well in this world.” Katherine said, pursing her lips slightly.

“Still, it is not too late for you to adopt more of the virtues of my house.” Katherine stood up, still with that internal deportment teacher nipping at her heels, her heels clacking at an exactly precise staccato as she descended.

She looked at the windows for a long moment, wishing that they were of clear glaze, so she could see out. The problem with her room, she decided, as she heard the door shut below, was that it was basically a trap. There was no way to get out of it once someone else was in it, without seeming dreadfully rude–and anyone who would make her feel trapped in the room would never forgive her being rude.

So what she needed was an “away” some place she could go and her mother and Caroline wouldn’t follow to tell her that she was sulking. Thought was parent to deed and her slippers were padding–not clacking–toward the stairs before she was even finished with the thought.

It was still the warm, pleasant afternoon it had been, her siblings banished to the courtyard to enjoy the summer sunlight. Marianne paused for just a second in the sunlight when she saw Caroline’s horrid white and green damask train that clashed awfully with the pink gingham sash she’d chosen to go with it. And my mother thinks that she’s a picture of virtue.

“Caroline, what sorts of dances do you think Lady Elizabet will have at her birthday celebration?” Julia asked, a shade too loudly, after her eyes touched on Marianne. Was Julia trying to–distract Caroline from noticing her? Well, whether that was the intention or not, it was succeeding and Marianne slipped past through the garden before anyone else even noticed she was there.

Her feet carried her, enjoying the sun on her shoulders and back, to the Library. She found her way toward a book of Geoffry Chausseur’s poems. She liked this one, it was poems about youth and the shivery-yet-warm feeling of being near someone who caused that frisson that was part lust-part interest-part something that might be something more around the one you liked.

She liked all of Geoffry’s poems, actually, but this book, so far, was one of her favorites. Somehow she wondered–thought–perhaps that he would have understood a lot of this. The poem that she had left off on, however, instead of drawing her in like usual was turning her thoughts outward, it was about seeing and noticing and the offer of friendship in the strangest of places.

And as her eyes danced over the letters, a flash of movement caught her attention from over the corner of the book. It was Vivianne’s brother, Severus, a book not unlike hers in his hands, though he’d just shut the cover with a soft, hushed thump. She turned her attention back to the line of text which seemed to shift and dance under her eyes.

“The poems of Geoffry Chausseur, huh? Is this the book of naughty ones?” Marianne blinked as his warm brown eyes met hers, she hadn’t noticed him move to the seat right next to her.

“N-naughty ones?” Marianne stammered out.

“It is! It is!” Severus chuckled as Marianne flushed red as the eagle on the Orkney crest. “You’re blushing.”

“How do you know that I’m not blush-blushing because you even suggested that there are naughty poems?” Marianne asked as she fanned her heated cheeks with her hands.

“‘Cause unlike your sister, you have more brains than a bag of rocks. You’re at the library all the time. In everybody’s library. Ours, the Carico’s, the Academy’s, here,” Marianne blinked. How did he know that she spent so much time in the library? Did he notice that? She didn’t think it was so obvious…? “If you’re not with Vivi and Elizabet at some party, you’re in the library, it’s the first place your brother sends anyone to look for you. Vivi too.” Severus continued. Oh, her brother and friend, of course. He knew Brandon. He, obviously, knew his own sister. She could’ve told you where you were most likely to find Vivi or Brandon at a party too.

“Well, books are nicer–if you don’t like the book, you can just close it and find another one.” She explained.

“If it’s not being too forward of me–and–er–knowing that my definition of “forward” is a bit… more than most peoples.” He bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you–is everything alright?”

“Oh, just.” Marianne tried to think of a way to explain without sounding like she was whining and making a big deal out of nothing.

“Marianne–if you don’t want to tell me, you’re welcome to go tell me to jump into the river. Hey, I’m the one with no manners who is prying.” Severus pushed his hair off his forehead where it promptly fell right back into place. She wondered, for just a brief moment, what his hair felt like. It was the same color–almost–as hers, but more touched by the sun.

“You have manners.” Marianne protested.

“Not enough to not be talkin’ in the library.” He winked at her. “We probably shouldn’t sit and talk in the library. Could I ask you to trust my intentions and walk with me over to the Shrine of St. Betsy? Last thing my Sunday needs is a grouchy old monk stumping over here to yell about the sanctity of books or some such rot. My luck it’d be Brother Loki and I see enough of him during in the week.” Marianne smiled and nodded, getting to her feet. He blinked for a moment before bouncing to his feet as if he really hadn’t expected her to do it.

“I–I didn’t actually think you’d trust me.” He said as they approached the gates of the garden that served as a shrine to the patron saint of housekeepers and children in trouble. There was the hospital, where actual work was done, but every city in Lothianshire had a garden dedicated to St. Betsy.

“Why wouldn’t I? My brother would skewer you if so much as thought about doing something–untoward. Not to mention what your sister would do to whatever was left. Plus this is the shrine of St. Betsy and she’s known for helping people in trouble.” Marianne pointed out.

“True. You know what this is?” He jerked his head at the little stone and wood building by the stairs into the gardens.

“It’s some sort of Sminese shrine isn’t it?”

“Wishing shrine. The Sminese put them out in parks, if you toss a copper in and make a wish on it, they say if you wish hard enough as you toss your copper, it’ll come true.” Severus shifted from one foot to the other like he was nervous.

“Oh.” Marianne said, right now she wished she hadn’t left all her pocket money in her purse at home.

“You wanna try it?” Severus asked.

“Well–kinda. But I can’t, I left all my pocket money at home.” Marianne said.

“Well, far be it for me to leave a damsel in distress wanting for something.” He fished a copper out of his belt pouch and handed it to her.

“I couldn’t take your pocket money!” Marianne protested.

“You can owe me, I just get to name my price.” He batted his lashes at her with a smirk.

“You can name your price, but what you’ll get is one copper.” Marianne told him.

“Well, what if my price is for you to not sound like your sister with something uncomfortable stuffed up your arse.” Severus stuck his tongue out at her.

“Really, it’s your pocket money, shouldn’t you be making the wish.” Marianne asked even as her feet took her to the front of the shrine.

“My wish is for you to make a wish and tell me if it comes true or not.” Marianne blushed as his warm brown eyes seemed to be a little warmer. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she flipped the bright coin into the air. I wish–oh there were all sorts of things that she could wish–I wish somebody’d like me. She seemed to hear a chuckle and not so much words in her head as an impression, something floating to the surface. If you only knew.

She heard the coin hit the stone bowl that held the other coins, but other than that fleeting impression, nothing.

“Well, it hasn’t worked yet.” Marianne reported faithfully to Severus as they walked up the stairs.

“It’s a shrine, maybe it takes time.” Severus said. “Although–did you hear anything?”

“Not hear–more like…”

“… Got an impression.” They said in unison. “So you’ve tried it.” Marianne said triumphantly.

“Aye. On a dare, once.” Severus shrugged.

“Did–your wish come true?”

“Not…” He seemed to lean a little closer to her. Close enough she could pick out golden flickers in his irises. “Yet.” She felt her breath catch, her eyes widening. And even as she was swaying a little closer to the fire in Severus’ eyes, he turned and the spell was broken. “Brandon, I don’t suppose you have that assignment we’re supposed to do for Loki’s class done yet…?”

Oh, bother and last seasons slippers. Marianne thought to herself as Elizabet often said when she was trying hard not to use course language. Was he–did he? Was it all in her head? And yet she couldn’t be sure that she was mad at Brandon because she didn’t know what that fire in Severus’ eyes meant–or if she wanted to chase it–or if chasing it was like chasing the white stag, something she’d chase forever and never catch.

Brandon and Severus chatted for a minute longer, Severus leaving with some sort of naughty joke that only made passing sense to Marianne and then he skated around Marianne’s brother and was gone with nothing more than a nod in her direction.

“What you two talking about?” Brandon asked as Severus went through the arches at the front of the garden.

“Oh–just the wishing shrine.” Marianne said.

“I’m sorry about Caroline.” Brandon said.

“Well, Elizabet says she’s not my fault–and that means she’s not your fault either and we shouldn’t be sorry over things that aren’t our fault.”

“Wise woman, your Elizabet.” Brandon chuckled.

“Aye that.” Marianne agreed, even as they walked out of the garden and her eyes caught on the wishing shrine again.

Imsdyn 10th, 1513 – Fitz-Chivalry estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

Marianne brushed nervously at the horse hair that still clung to the skirt of her blue riding habit. “We just got back from our riding lesson.” Vivianne pointed out, tossing a strand of hair over her shoulder. “No one is going to expect us to be completely spotless.”

“Speak for yourself,” Marianne’s other companion, Elizabet, wrinkled her pale nose. “I’ve seen mother lead an autumn hunt and come back with not a piece of horse hair clinging to her skirt, nor a hint of perspiration about her brow, not even a hair out of place.”

“Well, aye, Elizabet, but we’re not even sure that your mother is a sim, she might be a ice sculpture that someone bewitched.” Vivianne tossed back with a smirk.

“Hardly.” Elizabet dismissed airily. “A bewitched snow sculpture would be warmer than my mother.” Their riding instructor put a hand over her mouth and cleared her throat, probably to hide a snicker. Marianne couldn’t blame Madame Cox for it. She probably knew the baroness better than any of them. Her husband was a cousin of Elizabet’s mother and worked as the baron’s steward. And while she was never anything other than the very picture of polite, deferential good manners around them, you couldn’t help but get the impression that Madame Cox was anything other than polite and deferential in her thoughts of them.

“Besides, just because your mother can do it doesn’t mean that any sim can.” Vivianne told the blonde girl.

“You have met my mother, haven’t you? Of course, she expects us to be able to do everything she can. Only the Lord Wright can create perfection, but we should all strive to be as close to perfection as simly possible.” Elizabet gave an airy flick of the hand as Lady Marisol did after she deemed something to be so. Vivianne snickered. Marianne–wished she dared to. “What I don’t understand is why given that both my estate and the Finessas’ estate is closer to the riding grounds we have to come to the Fitz-Chivalrys after riding lesson.”

Marianne’s gaze dropped to the ground by the hem of her skirts. Mother reminded her that they couldn’t expect to be treated as the exact equals of the Caricos and Finessas, they were not, through no fault of their blood, which could be traced back to some of the noblest, they simply had yet to earn landed status. But Elizabet was never so cruel as to simply point out that while her father was Baron of River Sulis, Marianne’s father was the Baron of nowhere yet.

“I didn’t mean that, Ri.” Elizabet said flicking blue-gray eyes her direction. “I’m not disparaging your house or your company, just the silliness that we go from there to here even though there are other theres to go to inbetween. You understand, right?” Though Elizabet had the baroness’ eyes, there was an earnestness in them that  Marianne had never seen in Lady Marisol’s icy gaze.

“My mother doesn’t like nicknames.” Marianne pointed out instead of answering the questions, she didn’t really know if she understood, but she knew that Elizabet wouldn’t let it go if she didn’t deflect the situation. “She thinks they’re crass and low-class.”

“So I’ll tell my mother to tell your mother not to be so stuffy.” There went Vivianne’s snickers again. “And I’m sure that will bring the return of St. Robert and then Armageddon from irony alone. But even my mother doesn’t mind nicknames. And considering how your mother is–do you really think that she’ll call me out  for using one, even if she does think they’re crass?”

Considering how your mother is. It was easy to read between the lines, Elizabet made no secret that she thought that Marianne’s mother was an unapologetic social climber. Secretly, shoved so deep down inside that maybe even the Lord Wright couldn’t see it, Marianne knew that Elizabet was right. Her mother did nothing that wasn’t aimed at making their family look better in the eyes and minds of those higher up the chain than the Fitz-Chivalrys.

Madame Cox cleared her throat gently. “Your lord-father made the request, milady. And I am not dumb enough to argue with the baron.”

“Not even over something that makes no sense?” Elizabet taunted.

“Especially not over something that makes no sense. I have better things to do with my time. Like go argue with my garden wall in hopes that it will move five feet to the left or the statue of St. Brandi to change position, because I think that her normal one is a trifle trite by this point.” Madame Cox’s bland expression didn’t change but even Vivianne, usually the first to giggle at something scandalous, was watching the riding instructor with a semi-horrified expression. As for Marianne herself, her eyes felt as if they were bulged so far any moment now, they would surely pop right out of her head.

Elizabet, however, grinned sunnily. “Probably a good idea. You do have more chance of convincing those things to move.”

Madame Cox offered a small smile and nod. “Well, having delivered you to your location, I should probably get home, I believe that Lyssandra should be returning from her music lesson shortly.”

“Oh, Madame Cox?” Elizabet called after the riding instructor.

“Aye, Lady Elizabet?”

“I think my father said something about wanting Master Cox to work on the Library fundraiser this evening, that’ll probably keep him late.” Elizabet said.

“Good, if he keeps him all week, I’ll refund your tuition for the month.” Elizabet burst out into giggles as Madame Cox waved over her shoulder.

“Did I miss something?” Vivianne asked.

“Madame Cox and Master Cox do not like each other. He annoys her, I think she scares him. But my father works him like a salt miner. So, they can avoid each other. It’s probably better that way.” Elizabet pushed open the iron gate, leading the way down the side of the house.

They were almost to the courtyard when a boyish shout caught their attention.

“Oh, cow demons and last seasons slippers!” Elizabet muttered. “Now we have to deal with the brothers too.” Marianne looked under the arbor toward the courtyard and saw she was right. The courtyard was filled with teenage boys, Elizabet’s brother Joshua, Charlie and Severus, Vivianne’s brothers, of course Brandon, Marianne’s elder brother was there as well and–who was…?

“I thought Leo was off Camford.” Elizabet said to Vivianne. “That is your brother isn’t it?”

“No, not yet. There was storm damage from that late Spring storm that went through the east of here. They’ve got to finish repairing the buildings before people can move in. But, that’s okay. That means he doesn’t have to leave so soon.” There was a little catch in Vivianne’s voice as she said it.

“The-outfit is new.” Elizabet said neutrally.

“I helped pick it out.” Vivianne told them clasping her hands behind her back. “I think he looks really… handsome.”

“He does look nice.” Marianne added in a hurry, before Elizabet could say something snappish. The door almost directly opposite from where they were standing opened and spilled a girl out into the summer sunlight.

“Now, she does not.” Elizabet grimaced as she turned to Marianne. “How can your mother have such good taste and your sister so poor? That pink, with that green? And all that brocade?”

“Caroline’s–” Marianne started, then stalled out trying to figure out how to be diplomatic and defend her sister, as her mother insisted they do, and knowing she kind of agreed. Caroline’s dress was made to lord over others. She wanted to catch every eye in the room, and with most of her dresses she would–just not the way that Marianne thought Caroline would want to catch that attention.

“Got her slimy paws all over Leo.” Vivianne crossed her arms over her chest and glared straight ahead.

“Your brother.” Elizabet said with a little heat. “C’mon, obviously they’ve usurped the courtyard, so let’s go to the back garden.”

“But…” Marianne protested.

“We are not gonna tear the place up, we can just sit quietly and talk.” Elizabet shot a look at Vivianne who was still scowling. “Your mother doesn’t want the brothers back there because somebody’d push somebody into the reflection pools or break the head off the statue or trample the roses. I think we can avoid doing all that.” Having no response and hoping that her mother would accept that it was Elizabet’s idea, she followed them to the formal gardens at the back of the house.

Elizabet pointed to the bench nearest to them and slid onto the right seat before patting the right one and pointing from Vivianne to it.

“Vivi, you have got to let this go.” Elizabet told her bluntly, sounding far older than her eleven years.

“She’s right, Vivianne.” Marianne bit her lip when Elizabet looked at her and nodded toward their friend. “My father and your father are–in betrothal negotiations. I-I know you like your brother, but…” Marianne looked back at Elizabet, thinking not for the first time of the irony that she was technically the eldest of the three and yet she was most definitely not the leader. And it had nothing to do with being the lowest ranked.

“I just think that Caroline has her nose so far up in the air that it’s surprising she doesn’t drown in the rain and is not at all worthy of Leo.” Vivianne raised her chin with an icy, regal air that was better suited to Elizabet’s mother than the usually sweet girl that Marianne called a friend. “Can’t I think that?”

“Aye, and some-or most-of it is probably even true. But the reason I bring it up, Vivi, is you would or have found something wrong with every girl your parents have introduced to your brother.” Elizabet said. “You’d say it about Ri and she is the sweetest, most not-conceited girl we know.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Vivianne protested. “Not that at least.” She muttered to her hands. Elizabet sighed and leaned her head back against the rough brick of the back wall.

“But you wouldn’t like it.” Elizabet pressed. Vivianne shrugged and looked away. “He’s gonna marry somebody, Vivi. And–it isn’t you. I mean even if you weren’t quasi-betrothed to that prince.”

“I’m working on that!” Vivianne interrupted in protest.

“He’s your brother, Vivi. You’d have better luck convincing your parents to let you out of being promised to the prince to marry my brother.”

“I don’t want to marry Josh!”

“And I don’t blame you. I mean he’s Josh.” Elizabet said it with such over the top distaste that Marianne couldn’t fight the giggle that bubbled up in her throat. “But he’s not your brother.”

“I don’t mean that I want to marry Leo.” Vivianne picked at a thread on her riding habit. “I just don’t want Caroline to. And I don’t want to marry the prince. I don’t look good in a tiara.”

“Well, I’d disagree with that. I think your head is shaped just right for a tiara.” Elizabet teased with a wink. Marianne sat down on the grass, turning her attention up to the clouds.

“What are you doing back here?” The sneering voice cut through the summer light, seeming to bring a cloud with it. Really, if it weren’t for the fact that Vivianne did have this peculiar attachment to her brother, Marianne would not see any problem with Vivianne wresting him away from Caroline. She’d probably even help her.

“Sitting. What are you doing back here?” Elizabet said.

“Well, the boys were being so loud, it’s hard to get acquainted in the presence of all that noise, so Mother suggested that we walk back here.” Caroline said.

“And there’s plenty of room for you to walk.” Elizabet said gesturing broadly. Vivianne slumped down on the bench crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh, Vivianne.” Caroline simpered. “You’ll ruin your posture, then what will the prince say?” Leo shot Caroline a black look that seemed to cow her for a moment. Apparently she’d forgotten that you didn’t, ever, make fun of Leo’s sister when he was standing right there. He shot Vivianne a sympathetic look and she smiled back–sort of–it was a flickery sort of smile, like a candleflame in a draft.

Caroline moved around the reflection pond, not seeming to notice that Leo wasn’t following her any more. That he wasn’t even looking at her. Then she paused and started to turn.

“Goodness, Caroline, look at the size of that bee.” Elizabet said.

“What bee?” Caroline sounded suspicious.

“The one on your shoulder. I’ve never seen one that big!” Elizabet gasped.

“Ahhh!!” Caroline waved her hands “Bee!” She turned and ran out of the garden.

“It’s a good thing there wasn’t really a bee, else it’d have stung her.” Elizabet snickered.

“Lady Elizabet.” Leo chided softly.

“Oh, c’mon. She deserved it. I will even go apologize if you can seriously, with a straight face, tell me she didn’t.” Leo, perhaps wisely, said nothing.

“Leo, Vivi,” Severus rounded the corner. “Oh, hi, Elizabet.”

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” Elizabet batted her lashes.

“Oh, uh, hey, uh Marianne.” Severus tugged lightly at the collar of his doublet. “Why did your sister come running around the house like all of Grimmy’s Cow Demons and some distant relatives of Elizabet’s were chasing her.”

“Severus, you really shouldn’t talk about cow demons in front of ladies.” Leo scolded. “It’s not appropriate.” Severus colored lightly under his freckles.

“It’s alright, Severus.” Marianne shook her head. “Elizabet told Caroline there was a bee on her shoulder.”

“Wouldn’t that be a really dumb way to handle a bee?” Severus asked before breaking eye contact to look at Elizabet. “Though truly classic on telling her that, Elizabet. I approve. Oh, uh, yeah, dad’s here, Leo. I was supposed to come get you and Vivi.” He glanced at Marianne again before running his hand over the back of his neck.

“Good afternoon, then, ladies.” Leo nodded as Vivianne moved past him toward where Severus stood.

“See you tomorrow at lessons.” Vivianne told them with a wave. A few quick strides later, Leo caught up with his sister and slung an easy arm around her shoulder.

“We just lost every bit of progress we might have made this afternoon, didn’t we?” Elizabet asked sitting down on the bench. Marianne sat down next to her smoothing her skirt.

She thought for a moment. “Aye.” Elizabet nodded and sighed. And all Marianne could do was nod and sigh as well. That seemed to pretty much say it all.