alexander-of-sandringham​:

Alexander did not forget etiquette fully. By Princely standards, he was entirely forgetting himself. “My dearest Dinah,” he sighed, when, at last, she arrived.  But to him, it still had to be considered sheer restraint as, if he had truly had the choice, he would have picked her up and kissed her cheeks in admiration and joy. The fact that he did not do that was, to him, the greatest obedience to etiquette he’d ever brought up. “Thank you. I’ve been reading your poems as we drove through these county’s fields, and they have made every sight so unspeakably beautiful. I am enamoured already.” Enamoured indeed. His eyes were barely leaving Dinah’s, not even as the Lady of the House asked him to come inside. 

“I wish to see it all again but you shall read them to me in your own voice,” he said as they followed inside, “I do not care if we see every field three times while I am here, I doubt I will ever grow tired of it.”

At the offer of going to his rooms and coming back down when he had rested, Alexander declined. He was not one to always be aware of all the little hands helping to make his life easier, but he was fond of his valets, and liked him to not be busy the moment they arrived a place. “We will give the staff some time to settle and introduce themselves to each other first. Unless, of course,” it was a question for the Lady of the House but he was still only gazing at Dinah, “you mind me in my simply and dusty travelling robes.” Those simply and dusty travelling robe could’ve fed a family of four for a year. 

“Oh! And I have brought gifts, of course!” He looked around. “Boy?” The St Maur footman, who had been standing by a corner, peering curiously, stood straight at once. “Once everyone has settled, tell Mr Kesei to bring the gifts for the very kind St Maurs.” Then he had a pleasant conversation with the Earl – Alexander’s eyes jumping back and back and back again to Dinah in between his words – before the old man gracefully excused himself and went to go back to his apartment. (It was unorthodox, to leave a Prince unattended, but Alexander liked to think that even if the St Maurs had been an orthodox family, he would not have been surprised. The Earl was a kind and wise man, but he was not in his best years, and Alexander thought it very grand of him that he had come to welcome him at all.) His youngest daughter followed soon not soon after, but it became clear that no matter how much Alexander was mooning, the oldest daughter was not going to leave any time soon. When she said it was time for tea, Alexander looked at Dinah. “Do you generally have afternoon tea?” 

♣ ♣ ♣

Dinah blushed at the mention of her poems, with a shy but pleased smile. They were important to her, even more so because Ira had helped her fix them, and to hear someone as cultured as Alexander praise their work so one of the highest praise. "I am very happy you enjoyed them, and, of course," her voice went from enthusiastic to a little shy, "I will happily read them to you as I show you around." Her smile relaxed into a teasing curve, "I fully aim to test your words, and see if you can truly never tire of St Maur and me, with my ramblings and all."

She was aware that they weren't the only ones outside. The staff bad been lined up for quite a while now, and she hated the idea of leaving them to have to wait for even longer. Of course, Alexander seemed to have just as much consideration for the staff as she did as he didn't want to rush them into work before getting acquainted with the servants and the house. Her smile grew brighter, and her gaze softened in a clear show of fondness. "I don't mind at all," she said, perhaps speaking a little put of bounds, but it was impossible not to so so when ever words Alexander uttered felt directed at her. "I think even in dusty traveling clothes you are still very handsome. It certainly adds charm." The compliment was meant innocently, after all it was a simple fact that Prince Alexander was a beautiful man.

Once they were inside, Dinah was faced once again with the fragility of his father's condition and the ease and joy that Alexander's mere presence seemed to bring him. This had been the longest time her father had spent outside his apartment since they had come back from London. So she couldn't help the fondness in her gaze as she looked at the two men. The gratefulness she felt, and that feeling of happiness that could only be elevated with Ira's presence.

"I do," Dinah nodded, "because there is nothing better than a spot of tea and biscotti when you are reading. Though, sometimes I take my tea outside, in a picnic of sorts," she explained, with a joyous kind of enthusiasm of someone who has a new friend coming over for the first time. "And on days I feel particularly daring, I walk all the way to the orchards to grab an apple or two." She looked at him then, up and down, "do you know you are perfectly tall?" She asked. "I would say the perfect height. If you like apples, that is." Oh no, what if he didn't? Yet, she wanted to have the experience of reaching for those small apples that shouldn't at first sight taste as sweet as they did. Just like Ira.... Her mind filled with thoughts of him and how much she missed, but the sentiments that seeped through in her gaze ended up clumsily directed at Alexander so that now he saw her looking at him with such fondness and longing.

soleil-timide​:

Florence simply beamed at her friend. For who else would be so thoughtful? It would be such a marvelous time, she almost wished that they could hurry along the end of things in London and speed ahead to a summer with friends and easy afternoons (or well..at least one afternoon). For a short time, things could be simpler, and how lovely would that be? Surprise shook her from her muses, her head turning sharply to see who Dinah was talking about. And sure enough, there was a man, seeming to be looking at her! “Goodness Dinah, do you think so?” The question tumbled from her lips before she could think better of it because of course, he started to approach them. Perhaps next season, Florence wouldn’t be as surprised whenever someone expressed an interest in dancing with her. For now, though, her brows were raised as the man approached and asked for a dance. Unable to say no, Florence excused herself from Dinah, though there was no helping the glance backward as her escort lead her to the dance floor.

END

brevityandoldbeliefs​:

As they waited for Dinah’s chaperone Cynthia returned to the far more pleasant topics of the Season. How the balls were going. What new dresses she had ordered. How it was going with the Prince. She could have gone into the footman’s room and seen for him, told him of the good news herself, but she did not care for it. She had long figured out that seeing a sick person was akin to befriending the fox you were supposed to chase. It was best to remember them as a wild creature, ready to harm you.

“Ah, Loretta.” She had taken an awful lot of time Cynthia thought. But it was no surprise to her seeing how her dilly dallying was quite the reason why they were in this mess. “You will hand in your two weeks notice tonight. Come June, I want you out of the house.”

♣ ♣ ♣

Dinah was not sure how Cynthia did it, how could be so calm and composed all the time. She did not know how she was doing it now, herself, and for how long she could keep up this composure. The only certainty was that she needed it to get through her conversation with her sister, through the night, possibly even the morrow when it would be inevitable to discuss at breakfast what had happened the day before. Her hope was to still be able to switch from one topic to the next with the ease with which Cynthia did it. How she went from the matter of their injured footman to balls and dresses and Alexander. Really, she had no mind to think of Alexander even if the thought of him and poetry did bring a smile on her face.

A smile that fell the moment Cynthia changed the subject again and fired her maid.

“She will do no such thing,” Dinah said, shocked. So shocked, in fact, that she had quickly forgotten all propriety and that in house matters Cynthia had power over every single member of the staff. “You can’t fire my maid. I forbid it, so you will do no such thing, Loretta.”

Loretta was surprised, of course, but not enough to make a scene. Indeed, she had often felt she had been on the verge of being sacked. She still remember the time the Mercia Herald had written about Lady Dinah wandering around Tynthesfield in the middle of the night, meeting Lord Alistair. By some miracle she had not been fired then for having lost track of her lady of all of ten minutes, but her luck seemed to had finally run out. Her mind went to money she had saved up until now, and the dream she hoped to achieve with that money. But before she could answer Lady Cynthia, Lady Dinah spoke and now she found herself front row and what would certainly be something Zahir wished he could eavesdrop, no matter how vulgar to do so.

♣ ♣ ♣

Dinah was wearing one of her new dresses she had brought with Valentin after they had made their silly, silly bet. She had not forgotten about it, nor had she managed to win it as her attempts to talk to her family about her feelings for Ira B. Vaisman had all been to no avail. Cowardice had come in her way. It was hard to put the idea that His Royal Highness, Prince Alexander, was actually going to propose to her—an idea that Valentine was sure was not imaginary as Dinah had often tried to pass it off—to rest once and for all, especially as the whole castle seemed to be in a frenzy as they got everything ready for his arrival.

Her father had even looked more cheery at the prospect, and that was a rare sight these days as his health seemed to be still under the weather despite the fresh sea air and the comforts of his house and the care of his daughters and Lady Conway.

And now that Alexander was here, Dinah could hardly risk of making a scene with her family. She was not ashamed of loving Ira, but she knew they would not take the news all too well and while she had been bold in her speech to Valentine, Dinah did care for her family and did not want to see them ruined because of her. Her only hope was that everyone was mistaken into thinking Alexander would ask her to marry him, and he only regarded her as a dear friend.

It was thus as a friend that she greeted him as he was finally here, with a big and bright smile full of happiness and mirth.

“Alexander!” she exclaimed, forgetting proper etiquette to her sister’s horror, but she could not help it—she was glad to see him, and for a chance to cultivate their friendship. “I hope the trip was not too uncomfortable,” she rushed to inquire, her hand reaching for his, “and welcome! Welcome to St Maur!”

Spring of Love Holiday

Time: 1st of August Place: St Maur Status: Open

Prince Alexander of Sandringham had never quite understood the meaning of living in the country, for him it had always held its greatest worth in picturesque poetry and was thus to be admired best black on white. Yet, when he drove the carriage – he had been proud to choose one like any other mere nobleman would have, at the Norrington Train Station – into St Maur County, he had found that the depth of the real thing was almost more enticing than the two-dimensional visuals he’d get from a book. 

Still, he hoped that he would not be too constrained by the watchful eyes of the country people. Only one who knew the city life intimately also knew that there was anonymity in a crowd. But the wide open hills of the country made you vulnerable, like a deer dashing across a freshly shorn wheat field. There was nothing more he longed for than intimate togetherness with his – hopefully – future bride Lady Dinah St Maur, and feared that a mere walk with her might cause something the more morally conservative would consider a scandal already. 

What good fortune then, that he knew enough people in St Maur now to at least be instilled with some trust in his month-long stay.

He was well aware that everyone was informed of his visit. The entirety of July he had spent preparing the journey and stay, finishing open business and breaking the news to his family that he wouldn’t come to Denmark with them. It had felt like cutting off a metaphorical umbilical chord – at the age of thirty-two, late, yes, but still painful. So when he was pulling up the driveway, he could not wait to knot new ties with his soon-to-be new family. 

There was no need to announce him any further. The mere fact that the driver hasted to open the door for him, and Alexander’s stately statue, dressed in the finest of fabrics, dismounted the carriage, was enough for a good dozen pairs of eyes to peer out windows and doors at once. “At last!” 

alexander-of-sandringham​:

Alexander smiled, almost proud of himself for having solved that mystery. That he was missing some components didn’t even come to his mind. He was no Sherlock Holmes after all. “We’ll have a marvellous August then.” 

At her prompting, he looked up and around to find who she was referring to. And indeed. A group of men were looking at him, one of them waving. “Ah, with bleeding heart I must agree, you might be right.” He sighed, turning back to her. “My dearest Dinah, I shall go now but I will be back later. Perhaps tomorrow I will make a call, if it pleases you?” The idea of not seeing her tomorrow pained him terribly. 

♣ ♣ ♣

“We will,” Dinah agreed with a nod and a smile.

It seemed it was time for Alexander to go into the pitch and show off his skill at cricket, and she would remember to cheer for him so that he could feel in high spirits during the match. “Oh...” Tomorrow. Dinah had meant to keep herself busy from noticing the big empty space that Ira had left behind, and so she often went out of the house to avoid looking over every corner hoping to see him. “I would love that,” she said, feeling it would be rude to say ‘no’ and thrusting Alexander to not have her wait long for his call. He would be a good distraction, too, especially since they had so little time left before she had to go back in St Maur and August was still far away. “Now go, so I can see you how good you are at running,” she teased him gently, and waved him as he went off.

brevityandoldbeliefs​:

“You do know that I am acquainted with Ira, our first footman of six years, yes?” she asked. Underneath the rhetorical question sat a judging tone and a testing look. Cynthia did not believe that out of all the staff members Ira Vaisman had been at the rally through sheer coincidence and no political reasoning at all. But the extent of his visit she could not guess and as long as Dinah decided to cover for him, she would never know. Why Dinah was covering so desperately for him was another question altogether too. Perhaps he had saved her life. Cynthia could not know Two principles came into play here. The first was that no matter how much she disliked a person she shall never accuse him of misdeeds falsely. The second was that no matter how great the proven misdeeds were, as long as no one outside the house learnt of it, they had practically not happened at all. If Cynthia were to fire Ira Vaisman for his purposeful or coincidental proximity to the protest she would be the one bringing scandal into this house. She would not have that. 

At last she said: “Very well then. Let him recover and resume his work in two weeks time. I will tell papa of our decision right away.” Since she had no power to fire or hire any man herself. “Zahir will be pleased to hear.”

Exactly he passed the corridor in that very moment and so Cynthia stopped him. But not to tell him of the news. “Would you call for Loretta please? My sister and I are done here.” 

♣ ♣ ♣

The question threw Dinah off for a moment, and she blinked at her sister with a confused stare and a frowned brow. “Yes..” she answered, and she hated how it vaguely sounded more like a question that an affirmation. “Yes, of course, I know. Why...?” Oh, Dinah had figured out why soon enough but she kept up her clueless act for she knew Ira’s future depend upon it.

Now, she could breath. It was a heavy sigh, and it finally allowed her shoulders to relax albeit only a little bit. “Thank you,” she said, quickly, with a voice full of genuine gratitude. She took an instinctively step forward, towards her sister. “Oh, thank you, thank you.” So relieved she was that she never thought to dwell on why Zahir would be happy exactly.

Zahir was not eavesdropping—that would be incredibly vulgar—but he did happened to catch Lady Cynthia’s words about himself and him being pleased, and so of course it was with a smile that he said “Yes, my Lady.”

“Loretta, her ladyship is asking for you.” “Hmm, hmm.” “Now, Loretta. And see to tell me right away what they are talking about.” “Why?” “Because I want to know.” “Hmm.” “You will tell me as soon as you can.” “Hmm. We’ll see. “Loretta..!” “You said right away, didn’t you?” “If he’s being fired I need to know!” “So you can stop building his coffin?” “I am serious.” “Aye, that’s the problem.” “Loretta!”

But Loretta had finally left to join Cynthia and Dinah.

brevityandoldbeliefs​:

Well that was at least something. Cynthia could excuse a lot of things but she could and would not excuse one of her staff members be part of such gruesome protests. No matter how quirky her father found him. Cynthia still felt like there was a bit missing between the footman not telling Celandine to go close and Celandine being in the middle of it all but no matter how she turned it it remained anyone’s but the footman’s fault. She knew her sister after all. She knew that she would have gone to have a closer look or chase a puppy or whatever nonsense her romantic heart led her to do. It was a mistake. A stupid mistake. And Cynthia hated mistakes. But at least mistakes rarely happened twice. 

Especially not when you shed tears over it. “Very well.” Cynthia finally replied disregarding how cold it sounded that those words came after “he’s hurt and it is all my fault.” “And what do you suggest we do with him now? I’ve spoken to Lord Conway and he has given his valet leniency. I suppose you want me to do the same? Feed him through a holiday?”

♣ ♣ ♣

There was a Dinah who would have shouted at her sister and told her that nothing was well, who would have asked Cynthia how could she even think to phrase it like that, how could she even had to ask. But that emotional, passionate Dinah was not the person who would be of help to Ira in this moment, and so she put her aside, not even allowing her to savor the relief of having Cynthia seemingly believe her lies.

“I believe it is the right thing to do,” she said, having no need for lies this time. “I am the ultimate cause of the injury, so it is only right that I make amends. So, yes, please, Cynthia, allow him to recover without a loss of income and job.” Her head bowed down as she asked this of her sister. She knew, no matter how unfair it was, that this was a big ask to make of her sister. “A-And.. I.. I will do anything you wish to.. t-to make it up to you..” and hopefully it would nothing worse than attend a dinner or going to the Ascot, “.. and father, of course.”

Marina Thompson + Ball gowns | ep 01/03/04 (requested by anonymous)    

alexander-of-sandringham​:

Sweet Lady Dinah. In this moment, Alexander wanted nothing more than to hold her tight to his chest and call her his own already. As it were, he bowed, deep, with a smile to his lips. 

“Because you do not have to wait a whole week to read the next issue?” he tentatively tried to give her arguments for her point. And then he laughed, gently – in all senses of that word. It was a soft laugh and at the same time grand, like the laugh of someone who knew he had no reason not to be cheerful, for there were no real worries in his life causing him to frown; like a gentleman, that is. “Not in the least. As long as you will not neglect to speak to me about poetry as well, and in the same manner.”

♣ ♣ ♣

“That, too, of course,” Dinah said, with a nod and a little shy smile. Indeed, she had always being terribly eager for the next issue and the one after and so on and so forth. Yet, the wait was part of the charm, in a way. Her smile brightened. It was so marvellous to have made another friend who enjoyed her ramblings about fiction, and even better who would ask for the same level of passion for poetry. “I won’t. I have very strong opinion about poetry, too,” she said, with a note of laughter in her voice.

“Are they calling you over?” she asked, as she saw from the corner of her eye a man waiving in their direction.

soleil-timide​:

“Oh but wouldn’t that make for such a dramatic entrance!” Florence suggested. “In fairness, I don’t think Bernie would have wanted a joint wedding. Perhaps we could have done a series? Each day a new ceremony..imagine! It would have been so exciting,” she continued. Truly, Dinah’s little dream was quite dear. Then Dinah started a lecture of sorts, one that had Florence nodding solemnly. This really hadn’t come up, not for her. Bernadette had likely been tutored on how such things occur in preparation for her debut, but so much had happened around Florence when she was preparing to debut..and then of course there had been her little lesson in..marital expectations. “Oh, yes, I would very much expect an interested gentleman to speak with Alastair in Valentin,” she agreed sagely. “Though it would be very nice if I could consult with you on the matter. And perhaps our elder sisters, as well. It seems quite odd to me that we must answer right away,” Florence prattled on. Would Alastair and Valentin tell her, if someone approached them for her hand? Surely they would. Wouldn’t they?

The mention of elopement had Florence raising her fair brows. “I should most certainly agree. I could not imagine getting married without my siblings, and my friends,” Florence admitted. How could she so much as choose a wedding dress without her sister? The gown for her debut had been hard enough. She shook her head at the thought. The youngest Talbot studied her friend closely, her head tilting just so as Dinah spoke of her friend. It seemed Dinah was indeed quite taken with her gentleman friend, and Florence fervently hope it would not end in sadness. “Oh, but imagine a gentleman wishing to learn something from me,” Florence sighed with a smile. “I rather think it  would be delightful to learn from another. To me, there is a closeness about showing someone something you like. Quite a darling thing, wouldn’t you agree?” Florence was earnest in her question, very much enjoying the picture Dinah had made for her. And imagine, if there was such a gentleman out there, one who was kind and sweet, and would not harm anyone. 

♣ ♣ ♣

Dinah giggled because, indeed, she could easily picture the dramatic moment that Florence was suggesting: the nervous grooms, the annoyed brides, all as they waited for Dinah while the guests was starting to get bored, and then.. the open door of the church, light flooding in and Dinah with it.

“Oh! A series would be so lovely, indeed!” she exclaimed in agreement. “It would feel like an endless party, yet we would each have our own moment.” Her smiled softened at the idea. It was less about this specific picture and more about the idea that all of it could only be possible if their friendships were not only alive but also thriving. “I think a man who values you will gladly wait for your answer,” she said, though she understood in a way that it was not always simply pride that would push a man to feel slighted at seeing their question unanswered right away. “But ideally, I believe a man should at least believe you to have some affection for him.. or at least an interest in marrying him before proposing. But then, there are always exceptions...” Yes, or she would have to believe she had given Alfie Felton some kind of signal that she had been interested in him when it was definitely not the case. “Men who are foolish, or too cocky. So, yes, of course, I will gladly give counsel. And I don’t doubt Bernie and Cynthia would do too,” she said, with a confident nod. It was important to have at least this kind of solidarity between ladies.

“Nor do I,” she agreed, since even with her romantic vein she had always imagined her family and friends at her wedding. Still, if she had really no other choice... She had no time to dwell on that thought and see where it would lead her, instead she focused all her attention on Florence. “Do not underestimate yourself, Florence! I am sure you have much to teach anyone, let alone a gentleman,” she said, with even more confidence than before. There was no doubt in her voice, and it did not sound like an empty pleasantry. Dinah firmly believed there was much that Florence could teach someone, as she herself had learned from her. “I do not think I would have been ready to learn from someone else and challenge myself if not for you,” she admitted, with a fond smile. “And it is delightful!” she nodded. “Though I would say sometimes it can be darling and daunting at the same time, but then it’s part of its charm.. stepping out of our comfort spaces,” she said, speaking from experience. And she was still learning, she had only just taken the first step. “Don’t you believe you are already doing something like that?” she asked, genuinely curious.

cescapist​:

As much as Benny was interested in discovering the missing link between man and machine – an automaton with a beating heart of hot flesh and blood, but with fingers of tools, and eyes of lenses, and nuts and bolts for ears – he was not at all disappointed to find that Hewitt’s company was less intimidating. He would have said so, too, to put dear Dinah’s heart at ease, were it not for their moving onwards.

Within Mr Hewitt’s office, Benny shook his head and flapped a hand modestly at her compliment, completing the exchange of praise and humility between them with genuine fluster. Honestly, the two of them seemed to get along so well it was a surprise to Benny that he had long considered Dinah to be Leah’s friend, or Valentin’s friend, and not his own in addition. It was a mistake he was quickly rectifying, and his heart joyfully declared ‘Friend! Friend!’ as Dinah did not take any offence, as feared, but quickly transitioned from a flicker of surprise to a beam of approval.

Benny’s own smile brightened again, giving a little nod along to Dinah’s explanation for her presence. He was grateful to her for not mentioning her additional reason as being moral support (or, as it was on the short journey from cab to front door, physical and moral support), it did a lot to save him face in front of a man Benny was quickly deciding to respect, deeply. Mr Hewitt – Mervin – had a position to aspire to, an opinion which only cemented as he began to talk about his enterprise and the manner in which it was run.

“I see,” Benny said, as all was explained, and the breadth of the operation was made clear. His brow was raised with clear admiration, and he went from watching Mervin, to peering through the door at the corridor, and then over to the blueprint, which he felt both a desire to look at closely and to politely divert his eyes from in order not to uncover secrets of Mervin’s trade he wasn’t to know. “May I ask how long it took you to grow it to the size it is now?” Eyes deciding on diversion, they tracked about the office as if imagining how it might have looked, to have such big dreams in one small room. Benny would count himself lucky, should his plan coalesce. He’d be starting out with a whole factory.

Mervin’s warning was unexpected, but not unwelcome. It was the sort of advice one should hear from one’s teachers, Benny thought, and thus he gave a firm nod in return. The words were a far cry from those encouraging, urging phrases that had fallen from Mister Roger Smith’s mouth, but Benny supposed that culture and age did that to people. Mister Roger was the dreamer sort, the American sort. Rocks in his path? Smith would plough through them with his engines. Mervin, it seemed, was the traditional sort. I keep them all. I build my castle.

Again, caught. “I am,” Benny answered. “Or, rather, I shall be. There is room for a business in my hometown, our home, St. Maur.” Benny looked to Dinah, the name so very clearly her own. “I reckon a good business there could help in giving the local area a good push,” he swept his hat out from himself in demonstration. “So, anything you can teach…” he left that sentence hanging, looking expectantly and hopefully at Mervin.

♣ ♣ ♣

Dinah’s curiosity was piqued over both Mr Hewitt’s company and Benny’s future enterprise. Her gaze went from one man to the other, listening carefully to the conversation and observing their reaction. She loved in particular to see Benny so engaged in their exchange with Mr Hewitt, and she shared the desire to have a better look at everything while also not wanting to appear too nosy, especially where potential trade secrets were concerned.

As per her own reactions, she was once again a little surprised at first by Benny’s answer--though mostly because she had had barely any time to think what kind of business he would be likely to take on. But she was very glad that it would not bring him away from St Maur and his  loved ones. Actually, she wondered if it had anything to do with the rumour of Doctor Forester wanting to buy the Old Cider Factory and the idea brought a pleased smile on her face.

Mr Hewitt also appeared to be pleased by Benny’s answer.

“It certainly can, and I think it ought to,” Mr Hewitt replied, then with a nod of approval. “Of course, I will try to guide you to the best of my ability, Ebenezer. Though, of course, every business is a little different and has its own peculiarities—be it positive or negative—there are a few things I have learned in these six years,” he said, answering Benny’s question, “that I feel apply to any and all enterprise.” “But, please, do sit down first,” he said, gesturing to the two chairs in front of his mahogany desk. They were just as sturdy, though one had a few rolls of blueprints on it and Mr Hewitt was quick to notice and come free the chair for his guests. “I fear sometimes my manners run away from me when I am engrossed with work. Something I have yet to correct. That would be my first advice,” he said, smiling at Benny with a sort of cheeky look about him, as if they were already building up some sort of inside joke.

“Thank you,” Dinah replied to the invite, and she did not hesitate to sit down once both chair were free for them to sit on. Unconsciously, she fixed her skirt with both her hands as she was tempted to pick up her notebook and her pencil to jot down notes.

“The second one will be more useful to you since you plan to make it a local business, and that is to keep always a good relationship with your neighbours,” he went on, waiting for them to be both seated before sitting down himself, too,  “and the people you will work closely with. And connections, Ebenezers. Those, too, will be of great help to you. Build and foster as many as you can. Do you consider yourself a social fellow?” he asked, amiably. “The kind who.. gladly talks to people and does not trouble himself too much with matters of rank; good at listening, but also firm enough to stand his ground?”

zachariahforester​:

10.07.1904

Dear Lady Dinah,

I fear the post let you down and delivered your letter rather late. Please know that I respond now with the greatest haste, but even so, I fear my reply may come long after any of it will still be relevant to you.

As requested I will not ask what happened, but only wish that you are safe. From recent experience, I know that events that must be kept secret can often be quite harmful. I hope this is very much not true in your case. You must also be reassured that I feel no burden in holding these thoughts of yours, if anything I feel honoured that you should choose me and trust me. They shall indeed be very safe in my hands.

Now I hear you have fallen in love with someone! Much like you, I am filled with both great joy and great fear. I hope this can reassure you that though all your feelings may feel contradictory of each other, they are a far more reasonable assembly than we might first assume. I have little experience with love, and what I did have was both great and terrible. Though this is not the only reason for my fear. You talk about suppressing your feelings, setting them aside in favour of other tasks, other emotions. Though I know nothing about your situation, I cannot help but feel that this is a mistake. If I could give you any advice, it would be to try and honour your feelings, the loud and the quiet. Let them run their course, do not cut them short. Whatever that might mean for the situation you find yourself in. I will not be hurt in the slightest if you disregard this unsolicited advice.

Finally Maurice. I should help you carry it all if I could. I think we are led to believe that grief gets lighter with time, but perhaps we just get better at carrying it. I doubt there is anything that will ever be able to fill the hole he left behind, no joy great enough that it will cancel out this pain. I realise this sounds a tad depressing, but I think I mean it to be hopeful. That if you are waiting for it to go before you indulge in happiness you might be waiting forever, or if you are trying to find the perfect love to fill all the crevices his absence created you might be searching in vain. So perhaps you should not wait, and you should not try to fill it. I believe you are a complex individual Lady Dinah, and as such, are capable of holding many complex emotions all at once. Great loves on top of great griefs. Side by side. It sounds daunting even to my ears now, but I dislike the idea of you forgoing happiness because you think you cannot honour both it and your sadness at the same time. I think this is how regrets grow.

All this said, I miss him too.

Never burdened,

Dr Zachariah Forester.

♣

July 13th, 1904

I must believe you are right in thinking me capable of holding many complex emotions all at once, Zachariah, for I am both embarrassed and relieved that my letter found its way to you in the end. I had not posted it. In truth, I lost sight of it in the morning and put it out of my mind. Just as well, I tried to keep The Feelings hidden so that I could only indulge in them when I was away from others. There is a danger to them, you see, as I had soon to learn that as a Lady my affections have always the power to damage my family’s reputation if they are not handled with care. It does not matter if I find no shame in them, if there is no shame in them, society might not be as kind and turn to find flaws to critique no matter how little or how imaginary—thus I need to thread carefully.

But I also wanted to keep them mine, only mine, for a little while longer. I do not believe it is simply cowardice—though sometimes, I confess, I feel like the worst of cowards, indeed—but my way of holding onto him now that we are separated, as if by keeping my Feelings to myself I am still with him. Just as that night, it is the two of us, withdrawn in our own little world amidst the crowd.

Though, now that I have read your letter—over and over, I might add—I do wonder if the reason that stops me from really investigating my Feelings, in owning them, in making it known not just to us, is because I do not feel I should deserve to be this happy. Not when Maurice can’t be. Nor your sister. It still pains me greatly, you see, that I am indeed the worst of cowards, Zachariah. I should have offered my support of your sister more openly, even defying my family’s wishes, but I told myself we did not need strife among ourselves. That my voice would have not been enough, and I would have only made a fool of myself and of your sister. But I am a fool for not doing more. I know this will be of little comfort to her, but tell her that I know she is not lying. He loved her, Zachariah. He truly did. And he would have asked my father’s permission to approach your parents if only he had not died...

There it is again, my grief assaults me and turns me into a selfish creature. It makes me crave your presence when I have not even asked you once if anything is weighing heavy on your mind or your heart—I have clumsy hands, Zachariah, but I promise I will make them strong for you if were ever to need them. I wish nothing more than for you to heal from any wounds secrets might have caused you.

Know that your words are dear to me; they bring me great comfort. & if you do not hate me after my confessions, I do long to see you—though, I do not know if I will have the courage to be as honest as I am in these letters

Your selfish coward,

Dinah

alexander-of-sandringham​:

She responded to the suggestion with such enthusiasm that he could but help feel as though she had brought forth the invitation first. “Oh, happiness!” he said in an indeed very happy sigh. “I certainly hope you will! I have burnt to see those sights ever since you mentioned them, if I had to wait any longer, I’d be but a pile of ashes.” Even when she mentioned her many friends and the words of Mister Gupta the valet resonated loudly within him, he could not feel anything but excited. “It is. We shall enjoy ourselves greatly.”

He chuckled. “I do know that much,” he said in a tone that could hardly be read as scolding. “But a knighted factory worker will never be true aristocracy, will he?” Meaning that a story published in a newspaper would not suddenly become great literature because it was republished in a leather-bound book later. “As I said,” he replied with a fond smile, “your love for stories could never be a flaw. No matter how it expresses itself.” 

“Wonderful. I shall let everyone know as soon as the day is over, then. The month of August belongs to you, my dearest coastal flower.” 

♣ ♣ ♣

“I will! I promise I will,” Dinah was ready to reassure him. It was an easy made promise, as she wished for nothing more in this very moment than to show all of St Maur’s beauty—be it in its geography as in its people—to dear Alexander. And for a moment she wondered if Lord Weston would also accept her offer.

Something flickered in her gaze, as if a cloud had moved across the sun. Her smile wavered and it withdrew a little. Yet, there was strength behind it, as she put all of herself into it as a shield against Alexander’s note. Dinah couldn’t help disliking his choice of words—true aristocracy—yet what she hated even more was not being able to come with a rebuttal to them. “I believe the novel format suits the story better, though,” she said, having warned him that she would not be stopped from discussing Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s work. “It surely makes it less jarring to go from Sherlock and Holmes in London, to Jefferson Hope in Utah as it explains to us the murder’s motive.” Her smile turned shy, almost apologetic. “Still believe it is not a flaw?”

The cloud seemed to have gone away, and the sun was shining brighter than before. “Thank you,” she said, grateful for his friendship, as she did not doubt he would keep his word. It would be the first time a friend came all the way to St Maur for her instead of for one of her siblings. “August can’t arrive soon enough!”

thenewlyfreed​:

Lady Dinah’s offer was kind. It was just. It was the sort of offer Ira would make, though without such polite words, or such a polite and pretty smile. Yes, they were well suited. Deepak gave her a grateful little smile and a dip of his head, glad that he had her offer of help. If nothing else, he could rely on her. She had proven herself more than willing to wade into the middle of a conflict before, after all.

She stood, and so he stood also. Deepak smoothed his hair back behind his ears, nodding with a soft expression upon his face. “I’m glad I could help, even if it was only in a little way,” he replied, silently realising that he felt very much the same. There was comfort in shared loss, and it was a comfort Deepak wasn’t used to. There had been no one to share in the loss of his mother, other than the half-sibling he didn’t know and didn’t find. “I hope so too, milady, if you will not be too busy once the Season is over.”

♣ ♣ ♣

“I will always make time for friends,” Dinah said in earnest, and just as sincere was the smile on her lips. Maybe the word ‘friend’ could have come off as too strong, after all there was still much about each other lives they did not know, but it was also true that there were things about Dinah that only Deepak knew. It felt, then, that the word ‘friend’ could come to be too little, but she had no other vocabulary more apt to use. “So do not hesitate, if you ever need a friendly ear.”

brevityandoldbeliefs​:

Cynthia listened without reaction. Her face was blank and impenetrable even for those who knew her well. In a away she also wanted to listen without judgement. Without influence. What was the story her sister was telling her? She had to listen to it wholly before making a move.

The plan did not totally work out. When Celandine began to speak about how everything went wrong Cynthia grew taller. Like an invisible thread pulling her at the top of her head. It was not easy to read it as such but it was a motion of concern. Concern for a sister who existed only in the past. It could’ve gone so wrong. But Celandine stood before her now. She was healthy. So there was only little concern for her current state. “Pull yourself out of it,” was all that Cynthia said to comfort her.

“So let me recapitulate. You walked around the park and met our footman who I presume was not in his livery but a clear part of the protest. He told you not to be there yet you were there at least long enough to be in the very middle of when it all went wrong?” 

♣ ♣ ♣

There was this old instinct that threatened to make Dinah fold onto herself, making herself smaller while Cynthia grew taller. Yet, she could not allow it. And her sister’s words—those words that some may find harsh—pulled her out of the memory. Her mind sharpened and focused on the present, where the danger truly lied now.

“He wasn’t,” Dinah said, shaking her head. The words were said in a simple manner, without much emphasis. “Part of the protest,” she specified, her brow slightly furrowing as she was trying to remember the sequence of events. “W-Well, at least to my knowledge. We met before we even saw the protesters. But then,” she slowly nodded, “y-yes, he warned me not to get too close and it wasn’t long that I found myself in the middle of it and he came after me...” again her breath shook a little, as if by speaking of what happened her mind was on the brink of transporting her back in time. But Dinah found herself lying with ease. It was not much different than from her little moments of make-believe. She had convinced herself to be a character she herself had written. Lady Celandine who had been too curious and had needed her footman to be saved. “Honestly.. I-I don’t know what would have happened if he had not been there,” she said, with her lips trembling. “And now h-he’s hurt.. a-and is all my fault. I-I’m sorry.”

soleil-timide​:

“Oh yes, we must! I’d hate for him to feel left out. I think it would be most marvelous for him to come as well,” Florence exclaimed. And it would be so easy, if this first picnic was a success, to simply suggest they do it again and again. Those most enamoured with the idea could plead with those who were lesser inclined, and even Pookie could give a doleful stare (for who could say no to such a noble hound?) It could become tradition, and wouldn’t that be something? A new tradition, and a happy one at that. Even if she had to cook the Talbot’s contribution herself, and sell off a dress or two for ingredients, it would be worthy cause. “Dinah, you’re utterly genius,” she added, marveling at her friend.  

♣ ♣ ♣

Dinah blushed under her mask. It wasn’t every day that a wonderful young woman called her a genius. “Oh, well, I-I am very happy that you love the i-idea,” she said, shyly, but also very pleased to have Florence’s approval and support of her idea. Their idea. Hers and Benny’s and Florence’s. “It was a group effort. You’ll see what I mean when we will have our first picnic,” she added, looking forward to show her the kites she had built with Benny’s, even if the dragon she had painted on one looked more like a potato. “But now I want to see you dance. I think that gentleman wants to ask you,” she said, eyeing a man dressed in a Greek-inspired outfit.

bernie-talbot​:

“See,” Bernie told her, “You already have far better instincts than I did as I child. I was so convinced that a horse would never dare bite at me that I ignored our groom and went straight for the nose. That horse was quick to let me know his displeasure.” It suddenly occurred to Bernie that this might not be the kindest tale to tell someone who was already scared. 

“It did not hurt me though, the groom was there to handle him and calm him down. Simply a lesson learned that I should respect them. And that, despite what my father might want us to believe, the servants normally knew better than we did.” 

There was actually something quite fun about this, sharing her knowledge with someone, being able to show off what she could do. If she could avoid terrifying Dinah with her unhelpful stories she might even be able to call today a success. 

Perhaps she just enjoyed being able to tell someone what do to once more. 

“That’s perfect! I can promise I will not let you on Copper Blaze until you have formed a proper bond. Posture should not be a problem, I imagine you have been trained in that as diligently as I have,” She had done this so many times, joke about her upbringing in a way that actually simply gave her an excuse to boast about it. 

Good posture, however, seemed like something she could continue to be proud of, even as she attempted to let go of her arrogance. 

“Have you had much training in riding side saddle?” She didn’t care what the radicles were doing, no student of hers would learn to ride astride. 

♣ ♣ ♣

“B-Bite?” Dinah’s eyes widened in shock and her complexion turned a shade or two lighter, her hand left the horse’s coat without tearing it away from it. Instead it hovered close to it. All of her attention and focus was on Bernie, and as much as her heart beat so fast she tried her best to listen to each word. The horse could bite, but a good groom would know how to handle it and calm it down. In a way, listening to Bernie’s story calmed her enough to let her hand go back to the soft, velvety feeling of the horse’s coat. It also annoyed her to hear that the Baron would think so low of his servants, though it was no surprise.

“What’s the point to have a groom if you won’t listen to them on how to deal with your horses?” she said, not really asking the question since it was clear from Bernie’s words that she would agree. But it felt more polite that outright call the Baron a complete idiot, or something worse.

She smiled at the compliment, and colour rushed back on her cheeks. Her skin was a soft brown, with red and pink undertones, and those darker splash of freckles that would be accentuated by the sun. Dinah also sighed a little breath of relief to know she was not being pushed to get on Copper Blaze just yet. It made it easier to move her hand a little, in a shy and gentle caress. “Oh, yes,” she said, thinking about her own posture lessons. “I-I had my posture lessons. Many of them,” she pointed out, because indeed she had had an habit of slouching as child that her nannies were eager to correct. “And.. well, uhm, all my lessons were about riding side saddle.. though I don’t know if you would considered them ‘much’.” It had never been much of a problem to train on a saddle that was not on a horse, it was definitely the horse part that was the hardest. “Though, I really find annoying to not be able to ride like men do..” she admitted, “the way they do it looks easier, and less as if you are about to slid down at any moment if not for your saddle... but then, on the other hand.. it might not be as easier to dismount,” she went on rambling a bit. But at least it was in a more smoother, relaxed way. There was still a bit of tension in her shoulders, but lesser than before. “In all honesty, it’s been awhile since I trained.. do you think I should re-train?”