If you be my bodyguard, I can be your long-lost pal.
Late November, 1889
The Thornton Estate
Lord Carnarvon should be here any time now, and everyone is in a complete flurry. The servants are nattering about attending an actual Lord again, and my parents are fussing about everything, from the polish on the floor to the sear on the steak.
"Isn't it exciting?" Lizzie says as she bustles about my ( Read more... )
The Thornton Estate
Lord Carnarvon should be here any time now, and everyone is in a complete flurry. The servants are nattering about attending an actual Lord again, and my parents are fussing about everything, from the polish on the floor to the sear on the steak.
"Isn't it exciting?" Lizzie says as she bustles about my ( Read more... )
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However, they are rich, and of respectable stock; and Miss Thornton is quite clearly a better class of person altogether. And so I've travelled the fifty miles to visit for a few days. They're not stupid; a journey of that distance at this time of year can only mean one thing.
In the carriage I look at the ring. It was my grandmother's, and then my mother's, and so is a little outdated in style - opals are more fashionable now - but it's an Excolo tradition to pass on. If Sylvia hates it, I suppose we can find something else ( ... )
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"For God's sake, mother, I won't. Have another drink, will you?" I snort, leaning back in my chair. Her hand tightens around her glass, but she won't strike me. Not now. Can't risk bruising the merchandise, can we, mother?
Father comes back in a moment later. "He's gone upstairs to change. Come on, let's get to the drawing room." He snatches mother's glass away from her, and she pouts, but doesn't argue. Sherrard might not have any money, but the prospect of marrying into actual nobility has my parents all but pissing themselves like over-excited hounds. I sigh and get up, not bothering to wait for them ( ... )
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"Fair enough, thank you, Miss Thornton." I smile at her. When her mother curtesies to me I think I smell gin on her, and I feel my nose wrinkle slightly, but I smooth my expression well enough. "Have you kept well since I saw you last in London?" I haven't seen her since August, when everyone went home after the Season, but we've exchanged a couple of letters, and her mother then wrote to invite me 'any time I might like'. I proposed this week, and thus our fate was sealed. Still, I have to discuss the matter with her father before I can actually propose. I suppose that will happen after dinner, when the ladies withdraw. Looking at Mr Thornton, I can't say I'm looking forward to a tete-a-tete with him.
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"Have you kept well since I saw you last in London?" He asks as he settles himself.
"Quite well," I nod as the tea is poured. "I was thrown from my horse at the last hunt, but no harm done, just a few scrapes and bruises. And you?"
I do wish my father would stop watching me like the proverbial hawk. I'm hardly going to start quoting Blavatsky, even though I think Lord Carnarvon might actually find it interesting if I did.
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"He's not marrying me for my looks, Mother." I snap as I take my seat.
"Thank God for that, or we'd never be shut of you." She mutters into her drink. Thankfully Lord Carnarvon comes in at that moment, and the rest of the meal passes in relative silence. Whenever he and I try to talk politics or books, my parents loudly interrupt and steer the conversation elsewhere. I pick at my food, my stomach in knots. How I hate this.
Finally, Mother and I head off to the drawing room, while Father and Lord Carnarvon retreat to the study. Mother is drunk enough that I can get away with reading until the men return.
Finally, Lord Carnarvon says, "Miss Thornton, would you do me the kindness of speaking with me for a moment in private? Your father has said we may speak in his study.""Of course, my Lord," I say, rising from my chair. As I pass him, my father glowers ( ... )
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Now it comes to it, I find it strangely hard to say. I clear my throat a little, and rummage in my pocket for the ring box.
"Miss Thornton," I say, "as you know, I admire and like you. I would be very happy if you did me the honour of becoming my wife, in token of which I have this ring." I open the box. "It's a family heirloom, although if you preferred another stone we can find something else to suit." Although I know she'll say yes, my heart's beating hard.
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It surprises me, really, when I see him fumble in his pocket and glance away from me at the bookshelves. I do believe that he's nervous, and it's rather touching, in an odd way. But then, he and I are rather in this together, aren't we? This will change his life as much as it will change my own.
<"Miss Thornton," he finally says, drawing the small, velvet box out of his pocket, "as you know, I admire and like you. I would be very happy if you did me the honour of becoming my wife, in token of which I have this ring."
It's quite a large ring, larger than my usual taste, but the center stone is a flawless garnet, the deepest red I have ever seen. Heart's blood. "It's a family heirloom, although if you preferred another stone we can find something else to suit."
"Nonsense, it's lovely." I say, more quietly than I intend. And then I step forward, lay my hand on his, and kiss his cheek. "Yes."
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"Mrs Thornton, Sylvia, I'm so glad you could come," I say. "I trust you had a pleasant enough journey? I know winter travel's a bore. Is this your maid? Mrs White," I say, indicating our housekeeper, "will show her where your rooms are. And of course if you need anything," whatever it is ladies need, "you must let Mrs White know."
The bags are taken in, and I smile at Sylvia.
"Would you care for some tea, or would you rather rest in your room until dinner?"
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Lizzie blushes and curtsies deep.
"Mrs White, will show her where your rooms are. And of course if you need anything, you must let Mrs White know."
"You're most kind, Lord Carnarvon," Mother manages without slurring too much. "So very gracious of you to invite us."
The servants are dealing with the bags. We're only here for a few days, but of course we had to bring half the bloody household, or so it seems to me. "Would you care for some tea, or would you rather rest in your room until dinner?"
"Tea would be wonderful." I say. "But I fear Mother needs to rest."
"Travel does go straight to my head," she agrees. Mrs White agrees to show her to her rooms, and I take Alex's arm ( ... )
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"I've been well," I say. "Busy. Most things are in hand for the wedding, though." She's heard about the details from my letters. "Come, let me show you the drawing room." I take her in; it's a nice bright room with its walls hung in spring green silk-threaded paper. The tea's waiting for us, along with some sandwiches and cakes.
"You'll have to let Mrs White know what your favourites are," I say when we sit down. "It's funny," I add, "we're to live together, but I have so many things to learn about you - just everyday things, I mean. Like what food you like, and if you get up early in the morning or prefer to sleep late... I'll show you the library after this," I add. I know Sylvia likes books.
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"You'll have to let Mrs White know what your favourites are," Alex says as we sit. "It's funny, we're to live together, but I have so many things to learn about you - just everyday things, I mean. Like what food you like, and if you get up early in the morning or prefer to sleep late... I'll show you the library after this."I grin at that, but nod at what else he has said. "It does seem odd. We're to spend the rest of our lives together, and in many ways we're still practically strangers." Then my grin widens, and I tilt my head to one side. "Shall we play a game?" It seems rather childish, but I feel rather giddy with liberation, with being away from my father and being here, in this new place where soon I shall be free of him and Mother both. "I know that we are supposed to call each other by our Christian names now, but it's difficult to ( ... )
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"Well, then, though I'd hate to speak ill of your mother, if that's all she's taught you being ladylike means, she's served you ill," I say. "It's like being a gentleman. I strive to be one, which means not just wearing the appropriate clothes and holding doors open for ladies. It's about... chivalry."
"There have been numerous cases of women posing as men, whether in military or politics, and proving themselves not just competent, but extraordinary. No one thought them anything less than men until their clothes came off."
"Perhaps women who'd want to disguise themselves as men are not entirely typical women," I suggest.
"And to answer your question before, I thought there were far more dragons than those we heard of in stories, probably many more who lived and thrived than were killed by knights. It was always the knights telling the story, anyway; who's to say they spoke the truth?""Having lived with soldiers," I ( ... )
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"Oh, go ahead. I do often enough." I sigh.
"If that's all she's taught you being ladylike means, she's served you ill. It's like being a gentleman. I strive to be one, which means not just wearing the appropriate clothes and holding doors open for ladies. It's about... chivalry."
"Chivalry," I smirk. "Chivalry's all well and good, and has its fine points, but there's still very little for ladies to do." I lean back in my chair, trying to remember the last time I read the Chivalric Code. "I seem to recall a great deal about singing your Lord's praises and being his guiding light, and telling him he's been a very good boy and is doing great works. And of course, having children and selflessly serving your Lord forever and always." I look up at him, raising my eyebrows, "Though I do seem to recall something about having an army and defending the castle in the Lord's absence. Do you have an army?" I ask, as innocently as I can muster ( ... )
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I smile a little.
"I was in an army, you may recall, and so I suppose I was a defender of the castle. Well, I would have been, if my career had kept me there... I'm glad to be here, though. I think I can defend Excolo better than I could England."
"And perhaps they realized that the only way they would be taken seriously was to appear as men. I daresay more women than you think would do so, had they the opportunity."
I snort.
"I think most women would be disgusted by the idea of looking like a man," I say. "We're not in Twelfth Night, after all."
"My own family...well, I think my great-grandfather was the bastard son of some earl or another. I'm afraid I have little to add to such a history.""Hopefully you will add a son to it, and daughters too, perhaps," I say, putting my finger next to my own name in the book. "Your name will go there, and underneath me our children, and this book will pass to ( ... )
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I grin back at him. "Does that mean I get to command you?" I say archly.
"I think most women would be disgusted by the idea of looking like a man. We're not in Twelfth Night, after all."
"Do you really think it was about looks, or that looks are so important to women that they would give up the opportunity to do more?" I say, raising my eyebrows. "They dressed as men because it was the only way for them to be treated as capable, and the only way for them to do the things that they did. It wasn't for aesthetics. And if we're on the subject of Shakespeare, I'd say a comparison to The Merchant of Venice would be more apt ( ... )
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