Secrets and Lies (Sync & Mali)

[Sync]

The maid saw him out, but Miss Elsa wasn’t far behind. Without looking back, he knew it for truth. He knew his words had set her heart – and her mind – to some sort of ease. Had he said and done enough to at least mollify her parents? Time would tell. He doubted Miss Elsa would be one who would give in to her parents without some manner of fight…and he was harbouring a suspicion that Mr Strathmore might choose his daughter’s side in such a fight. Maybe. Again, time would tell the truth of his thoughts.

He chanced a look back to the house once he was seated inside the carriage, saw Miss Elsa at the window, watching him. A small smile played over his full lips, but he did not offer an additional farewell. He’d already given it.

“Are you taking a bit of a liking to her, sir?” The question from Darren caught Reggie thinking and it took a couple of seconds for him to register it. He almost answered without thinking, but his brain caught his mouth just in time.

“That is somewhat a forward question, Darren,” Reggie admonished, although there was no heat or annoyance in his voice. They were words, and Darren knew Reggie well enough to know that it was not a telling-off that had just been given.

“Yes, sir,” the driver acknowledged. “And your answer…?”

“Scoundrel,” Reggie replied easily, causing the driver to grin faintly. “There is charm and worth in her, that much is certain. She has a grace and intelligence that I find appealing, and yet she has the airs and demeanour I find desirable. Do I fancy her…? I cannot yet say, although I confess I am leaning in that direction.”

“How do you think she’ll measure up against your mother?”

“I think Miss Elsa is somewhat mortified at the thought of meeting my mother,” Reggie admitted. “There will be little I can do to help with that. I have no doubt that my mother will not at all be keen on meeting Miss Elsa, and I fear she will not hesitate to make Miss Elsa aware of that.”

“Just as well your father will be present, then.”

“He may or may not step in. I think it more likely he will observe how Miss Elsa and my mother interact, and use such observation to judge Miss Elsa’s worth as a possible paramour to me.”

“Makes me glad I don’t have high society to deal with, with,” Darren noted with a soft chuckle. “All those secrets and lies…too hard to deal with. Simple is much better.”

Reggie laughed softly. “On that, we are agreed.”

The pair fell into silence as they travelled, and not a half-hour later the Hawthorne estate was in view. The estate itself was large, its boundary lines with tall poplar trees and some conifers. To one side – the right, as one approached from the road – of the very-large mansion was an orchard of apples; to the other side was a large and meticulously-maintained garden. Soon they were at the main doors, and Darren was helping Reggie out of the carriage; the carriage was out of sight before Reggie had made the front doors.

He’d half-expected his mother to greet him with a barrage of questions and opinions, but Harriet opened the door for him with nothing but a message. “Your father asked to speak with you when you returned, sir,” she greeted the older son politely. “He’s in the study.”

“Thank you, Harriet,” Reggie acknowledged, nodding his head briefly to the maid before making his way inside. A couple of minutes later we was walking into the study, relieved, in a way, to discover that his mother wasn’t there.

“You wanted to speak with me, father?” Reggie began formally.

Sir Bartholomew looked up from his newspaper. “I did, Reggie,” the man’s rich tones replied. “Sit, please.” Reggie did was requested, while his father closed and folded the paper and sat it on the table.

“How did your visit with the Strathmore family go?” Sir Bartholomew wanted to know.

“Quite well, I think,” Reggie responded thoughtfully. “Mr Strathmore is a businessman, like yourself; his interests don’t challenge ours, but there may be mutual benefit in opening a dialogue with him in that regard. Mrs Strathmore is a challenging woman, like mother in several ways; she is forceful and focussed, and looks to protect the good name of her family.”

“Hmmm. And what of the daughter?”

Reggie cocked an eyebrow slightly. “Miss Elsa is a charming young lady,” he replied honestly. “I find her so, at least. While there are certainly ladies who are prettier than her on the outside, she has a quality of character that I find intriguing, desirable even.”

Sir Bartholomew pursed his lips. “Are you thinking she may be worth courting?”

Reggie nodded his head briefly. “I am not closed to the possibility.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“All right – I admit I’m thinking she’d be a worthy suitor for me,” Reggie admitted with a sigh.

“Hmmm,” Sir Bartholomew noted ambiguously. “Very well. I know what she’s alleged to have done; I’m aware of what your mother’s gossip says of her. But I’ll hold my judgement until I’ve met her. You mother, however, will not be so easily convinced.”

“Thank you, father,” Reggie acknowledged with a hint of gratitude. “Just give her a chance to prove she’s not what the rumours say. That’s all I ask. I’m sure you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“We’ll see,” Sir Bartholomew. The discussion was apparently over at that point; he picked up the newspaper from the table and opened it. Reggie stood and quietly left the study.

 

[Malicious Lullaby]

Elsa didn’t wait very long to find her mother and approach her. It was later night in fact and while her father was in his study brushing up on some last menial details for his work, her mother was in her bedroom, tending to ready herself for bed. Her hair was already down, she was set in her nightgown and being a woman in her late forties, Adelaide Strathmore held quite the charm still in her peak. Stress of the business took what handsomeness her father once had each day at a time but it surprised Elsa that with how set her mother’s nerves were, she still looked graceful. When she wasn’t scowling or screeching. Honestly, she wished she could time travel or go back in time so she could witness the courtship of her parents. She still couldn’t see it, how they got together.

When her mother wasn’t looking or was currently preening over something small, Elsa would look at her father, how his gaze would tip over his newspaper to just look at his wife. There was amusement but there was so much adoration and love for her. It shocked her, because the form of her mother Elsa knew was a horrid woman, from a daughter’s perspective that is. She couldn’t remember a time when her mother wasn’t always riding her, pushing her and kicking her butt into shape about something, verbally of course. It was why she naturally gravitated toward her father. One would think it would be the other way around; a father would be pushy and a mother would be more nurturing. But perhaps it was different for daughters and sons.

“Mother?” Elsa asked.
Mrs. Strathmore stilled and she looked up, seeing her daughter. “Elsa. What is it, darling?”
Darling? Did she take an opiate or something? It caught her so off guard, she blanched. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”
“You called me ‘Darling.’”
“Can a mother not show affection to her child?” She asked it almost so innocent and Elsa just gave her this look that said ‘Who are you trying to fool, Mother?’ It made Mrs. Strathmore cut the crap. “Alright, I might have overheard you in your chambers with Gretchen.”
“Mother!”
“I was worried!”
“What?”
“Hard to believe? Give me a little bit more credit Elsa. My mothering the way it has been has only ever been for your best intentions.”
“So your best intentions would be to force me to a man who I find so vile?”
“We had a deal!”
“Then take your deal. I would rather be poor, a whore and homeless!” She screamed it, not like a child throwing a tantrum but like a woman whose last vestige of sanity snapped. Here she came for her mother’s help and of course it was just another fight. “And to think I came here for your help!”

With that, Elsa turned and she walked out of the room, heading down the hall to the other wing to her room. She heard her mother call after her but Elsa didn’t stop. The tears already came and she just needed privacy to calm herself down. She couldn’t show anyone her vulnerability or her weakness. Nerves were one thing, living in high society did that to someone no matter how many years of experience or proper breeding could influence. But crying...crying was pure vulnerability at its best and worst.

Elsa, already prepared for bed lay on her side and requested to keep her window open all night. The breeze felt night, the sky looked beautiful and she stared at it, lying in the darkness with one oil lamp burning faintly nearby, unable to sleep. It shouldn’t be this difficult and yet it was. It did not make any sense to her at all. She knew she needed her mother’s help but they couldn’t get passed this entire fixation. Her mother was dead set on Mr. Abernathy and Elsa, even her father, had made it clear that it would never happen. She didn’t care about her daughter’s happiness, just that she was married and no longer the bane of both her and society’s existence. Elsa knew those terms when she came back. She just thought that maybe her mother would be approving of Mr. Hawthorne as much as she was of Mr. Abernathy. Mr. Abernathy would have tried to make a lesser woman out of her if he had the opportunity of being alone with her. Mr. Hawthorne didn’t. And yet her mother expected the worse of him and saw Mr. Abernathy as a saint, even though he was vile.

Mr. Strathmore came to the bedroom after an hour. He should have come faster when he heard the screaming but he didn’t. He knew better than to interfere in the heat of it all. He had to wait until it died down a little. So an hour seemed good enough. He walked in to find his wife lying on her back, one arm draped over her forehead and eyes as if she was under great distress. Undressing to his skeevies and pulling his night tunic on, he moved into bed and slid his hand over her stomach and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “My love?”
“Husband…” She sighed and removed her arm, turning into him. “Why must she be so infuriating?”
“She’s you. Only twenty years your junior.” He chuckled.
“Was I ever this infuriating?”
“Of course you were. And yet I found it so charming, especially when you did it with a smile.” He grinned.
She laughed softly, playfully swatting his shoulder.
“The Hawthorne name is very respectable, my love, and he is the eldest son. But all that aside, she likes him. You know that.”
“Yes, I do. And it would be an honor for a family alliance through marriage to the Hawthornes.” She said softly. “But...his reputation...her reputation--”
“Two black sheep.”

Her eyes closed and it was like she was going to concede. “Let us sleep. But you know she needs your help. Only you can help her prepare for her meeting with Lady Hawthorne.”
She knew he was right. Elsa had come to her for that purpose. And...it didn’t pan out at all. She had to swallow it all down and help her daughter succeed. She had one or two interactions with the Lady Hawthorne. The woman made Mrs. Strathmore seem like a fledgeling by comparison. And if it went wrong, Elsa’s future could be compromised, but worse she might not truly recover from a failed attempt.

That next morning before breakfast and before anyone else would start to get ready, Mrs. Strathmore wrapped her robe around herself and left the room, going to her daughter’s room. She knocked on the door before opening it, stepping inside and poked her head in. “Elsa?”
Elsa barely slept a wink all night. She just stared at the night sky until it started to get lighter and lighter, until the stars disappeared and the sun came up. Then her eyes closed and she maybe slept for an hour. They say that’s all you need sometimes.

Hearing her mother’s voice, she opened her eyes and sat up, looking over to her, her hair falling over one shoulder. Getting out of bed, she pulled her robe on, wrapping it and tying around her body. “Mother.” She said it almost defensively, as if she had already offended her in some way.

“Darling, please...I want to apologize for last night.”
“You? Apologize? That’s a first…” Whether it was snide or genuine shock, Elsa couldn’t tell.
“You need my help. And you came to me, and I didn’t help you.”
“And what, you want to help me now?”
“Yes, I do. I really do.” She said softly.
“Thank goodness!” Elsa sighed, tilting her head back. “Mother, I am absolutely terrified.”
Mrs. Strathmore smiled and she laughed a little, coming to sit in one of the armchairs in her daughter’s room, Elsa sitting in the other, facing her.

By the time they finished, a new battle strategy in mind, Elsa went for her bath as did her mother. Another hour later breakfast was served but Arthur came in with a few letters. “And a letter for Miss Elsa, Ma’am.” He handed them to Mrs. Strathmore who handed the one for Elsa over.

Elsa set her toast down and wiped her fingers on her napkin. She took the letter and looked at it like it was the plague in an envelope. “Good lord…”
“Who is it from?” her mother asked coquettishly.
“You already know that answer Mother,” Elsa said, opening the letter. It was a request from Mr. Abernathy to come and see her. She groaned inwardly and showed the letter to her father.
“Very well.” He said simply. “You will not be alone with him.”
“Husband!”
“I forbid it.” He gave his wife a glare and Elsa was instantly grateful for that. “We will stay in attendance. I do not want her just with Gretchen and Arthur in there. Besides, he did not specify.” It seemed her father understood better. It was safer to leave his daughter alone with Arthur and Gretchen when Mr. Hawthorne came. It was not safe for when Mr. Abernathy came.
“Thank you, Father.” Elsa quipped, enjoying her toast.

Mrs. Strathmore looked displeased, but at least her husband didn’t let Elsa outright decline the request either. She wrote back a reply and sent it off with the messenger, detailing in one days time he may come to visit.

 

[Sync]

Dinner that evening was almost a cool affair. The family sat as they always had – Bartholomew at one end of the table, Catherine at the other, and the two boys on either side with Reggie to his father’s right – but this evening there was almost an air of disquiet that hung over the table. Reggie and Bartholomew discussed news and business for a while, as was their want, and Edward alternated between chiming into the conversation between the two elder males or talking with mother; it was times like these that Catherine wished she’d had a daughter, although she was sometimes at a loss to decide which son she’d rather be without. It was during a pause in the conversation that Catherine cleared her throat and got the attention of the two older males.

“So tell me, Reginald,” she began, her tone crisp and cool. “What of your visit this afternoon?”

Reggie was almost instantly on his guard; he knew his mother was looking for any excuse to tear his vague hopes apart, even though she did not yet know what those hopes might be.

“A visit? Where to, brother?” Edward wanted to know, before Reggie could open his mouth to speak.

“I visited the Strathmore estate this afternoon, Edward,” Reggie replied simply, addressing his brother while keeping his attention on his mother.

“Strathmore… Isn’t that the home of…?” The younger son caught the look in his mother’s eyes and nodded. “Ah, it is. I see.”

“Indeed, Edward,” Reggie agreed readily. “I did meet with Mr and Mrs Strathmore, and then conversed for a while with Miss Elsa – not unaccompanied, I will let you know, mother.” As he spoke, he shifted his focus from his brother to his mother.

“And did Elsa manage to comport herself properly, Reginald?” Catherine asked bluntly.

“You mean was she the harlot your gossip paints her as, mother? Hardly – not even remotely like it, in fact. She was a proper lady.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Catherine sneered, without sneering.

“You can believe as you will, mother,” Reggie noted. “However, as I’ll wager you have not met her following her return to society, you cannot lay claim to knowing her.”

“Perhaps it is fortunate, then, that I will not get to meet her. A young lady who elopes with a man she barely knew on the night of her debut to society, remains gone for four years then says nothing of her activities during that time when she returns? She is a scandal I will not entertain.”

“Yes…or, rather, no, mother.” Reggie’s offered a tiny hint of a smile, noting that Bartholomew was, for the moment, content to let things play out between mother and eldest son. “You will probably be mortified to hear that I have invited her to luncheon in three days’ time, so that she can meet yourself and father, and that I might give myself time to get to know her better.”

“No. I forbid it.” The statement was delivered with all the finality of a judge’s gavel striking the bench.

“Mother, please. Meet her once, she her for what she is.” Reggie wasn’t pleading, but he knew that he needed Catherine to give Elsa just a tiny chance if anything was to occur.

“You have my answer, Reginald,” Catherine noted clearly, her tone growing colder. “I will not have that…that woman…in this house.”

“Perhaps it is fortunate, then, that I have not yet given my answer,” Bartholomew noted with a gentle clearing of his throat. He looked at Catherin pointedly, his steely gaze meeting and somehow neatly deflecting the daggers Catherine’s gaze was throwing at him. “I will allow her to visit this house for luncheon as she has been invited.”

“Husband!” Catherine’s shock and cold annoyance was clear throughout the room.

“I will permit her to visit and meet with us,” Bartholomew continued, almost as if his wife hadn’t spoken. “I, at least, recognise that Reginald is trying to meet the conditions we placed upon him, even if I am not fully convinced of his choice of partner. I wish to see if this Elsa can indeed rise to the standards that society will place upon her, should she find herself in the circumstance of joining this family.”

“You cannot, husband!” Catherine’s jaw almost dropped, her eyes now revealing a helpless fury.

“I can, and I did, my wife.” Bartholomew was almost daring Catherine to contradict him.

For a long moment, Catherine was silent as she collected herself. When she turned her gaze back to Reggie, her cold determination was again in control.

“Very well, then, Reginald,” she conceded curtly. “As it seems she will be visiting us for luncheon in three days’ time, I shall see that the house is prepared accordingly. But!” she added quickly as Reggie started to nod his head in acceptance, her gaze turning to meet her husband’s, “I wish to speak with Elsa myself for a few minutes. Alone.”

Bartholomew nodded his agreement. So, too, did Reggie, although his heart sank even as he smiled at his mother’s concession. He knew Elsa was going to be in for a rough time; he hoped that her mother was going to provide some help. He also knew there was little he could do to warn her beyond what he’d already done.

The remainder of the dinner was conducted largely in silence, save for the occasional general query or suggestion or request; when dinner was over each member of the family excused themselves from the table and went their own ways.

Reggie retired to the library for the evening; he didn’t speak with anyone until it was time for bed, and then only when he caught up with Wendy in his room as she was preparing his bed for the night. His night-clothes were already laid out on the bed.

“I heard we’ll be having a guest for the luncheon meal in three days, sir?” she asked politely as she turned his bed down, and only when the door was closed behind him. The brunette maid pointedly kept her gaze on her task, possibly to avoid seeming over-curious; of course the servant’s rooms were abuzz with the tension in the evening’s dinner.

“Word travels fast in these walls, doesn’t it?” Reggie chuckles quietly. “Yes, it’s true. The young Miss Elsa Strathmore will be joining us. You’re right in that my mother doesn’t like it, but so far father is giving her the benefit of the doubt. Edward, I think, will take mother’s side, at least for now.”

“I see, sir.” Wendy was deliberately non-committal at this point. The young maid wasn’t going to offer her opinion at this point, but Reggie wasn’t blind; he could see the maid had one, and he laughed lightly.

“Come on, Wendy. Out with it.”

The maid sighed softly before she straightened and turned to look at the eldest son. “I hope you know what you’re doing, sir,” she offered carefully. “You know the reputation Miss Strathmore has, you know how your mother is going to react to her. If your brother is going to take your mother’s side and your father is going to remain neutral, that makes it very difficult for you.”

Reggie nodded slowly as he sank into a chair near his bed. “I know. I do feel there could be something more between Elsa and myself; all I want is for mother to see that there’s more to Elsa than the rumours say.” He paused, then waved a hand dismissively in front of his face. “It probably doesn’t matter, anyway. Mother wants to speak with Miss Elsa alone; if Elsa doesn’t survive that meeting, it will be irrelevant what I want.” He gave a soft sigh as he went on. “Elsa is from a family of lower standing than ours, and she has a reputation as a tarnished woman. Mother will go through her like a dose of salts.”

Wendy nodded her head in understanding; there was little else she could do, really. Reggie looked up slightly and regarded his favourite maid for a moment. “Wendy, would you do something for me, please?”

“Yes, sir?”

“When she’s here, would you do your best to stay with Miss Elsa? You are close to her in age, I think, and she might need your company. You might not get to speak with her, but just your presence may help her to relax a little. There will not be much I can do without risking weakening her already-fragile position.”

The maid nodded quickly. “I’ll do what I can, sir. It will also depend on what Mrs Harper wants me to do.” Jane Harper was the woman who oversaw the staff in the household, particularly the maids; she reported to Gareth directly.

“I’ll talk with Jane and see that she gives you duties close to Miss Elsa.”

“Thank you, sir,” Wendy replied with a quick curtsy. “Will that be all for tonight?”

“Yes, Wendy, thank you. Good night.”

“Good night, sir.” The maid curtsied again, then turned and left the room. It took Reggie a few minutes to move from the chair, but when he did he went straight to bed, and sleep claimed him quickly.

* * * * *

The next morning, Reggie was woken by daylight streaming into his bedroom – the kind of streaming created by curtains being pulled back. Instinctively he screwed his eyes closed, lids clamping down tightly as he rolled away from the window, but that was a short-lived reprieve. He opened his eyes slowly to see Wendy standing by the bed, a casual outfit in her hands ready to be laid on the bed for him.

At that moment, as he looked at the attractive young maid, he realised his was rather erect in his loins, likely from the dream he was recalling…although this time it was not Wendy who had featured in that dream, but he could not remember the face of the woman it had been. Fortunately Wendy either didn’t notice, or didn’t draw attention if she had; Reggie rather hoped it was the former.

The pair spoke for a minute or so; Wendy let him know that he had a meeting with the family lawyers the following day at two in the afternoon. The present day, however, held nothing for him, thus the casual attire she’d organised for him. He waited until she was gone before emerging, leaving him to his fading arousal and his puzzlement as to the woman who had occupied his dream.

The day went by relatively smoothly. Sir Bartholomew and Lady Catherine both left the estate shortly after breakfast to enjoy luncheon with the Dillinger family; this nominally left Reggie in charge of the estate. He made sure that both Gareth and Jane were aware of the visit from Elsa in two days’ time from today, and he further asked Jane that Wendy be allowed to remain close to Elsa as much as possible, to which Jane almost-reluctantly agreed. Plans for the guest were set in motion. Reggie spent the day in the study, catching up on reading of periodicals once he’d done with the newspaper; mid-way through the afternoon he left the study and went to the stables, then enjoyed a ride around the estate, for no better reason than he wanted some fresh air. Edward often did his own thing, and in this the older brother was not inclined to interfere. Their parents returned while Reggie was riding in the estate, and the evening meal was spent discussing the events of the day, the conversation somewhat more civil that that of the previous night.

The following day he checked, perhaps unnecessarily, with Gwendolyn to see what would be on the menu for the visit of Elsa the next day. The cook’s reply stumped him for a moment – he truly had no idea if there was anything Elsa did not particularly liked eating, as it just had never occurred to him to ask, although Elsa hadn’t said anything, ether. He suspected, maybe unfairly, that if there had been something Elsa didn’t like, mother would have requested it be served just to challenge the young Miss Strathmore. In the end Reggie had to admit his lack of knowledge on the topic of what Elsa would and wouldn’t eat, and the cook nodded and then advised that the appetiser would be a simple chicken broth, the main meal a standard fare of roast duck with roasted vegetables and basic mixture of salads, and the dessert a selection of pastries and berries; water would be served with the appetiser, white wine would be served with the main course, and tea and coffee with the dessert. Reggie knew this was not a normal luncheon the family might engage in if there were no visitors, but they had a guest – even if mother disapproved from the outset.

After luncheon that day he rode the carriage into the city to meet with Graham Arnold, one-half of the partners at the solicitor’s firm his family used. He was met first by Grace, the secretary at the firm; Grace was a comely, more-rounded brunette woman in her mid-thirties, and possessed of a bubbly personality. Reggie and Grace chatted amiably for several minutes before Graham appeared, and then Reggie and Graham spent the next two hours drawing up a contract to meet the requirements of both the Hawthorne business and the Cumberland business. In the end Reggie was satisfied, and copies of the contract draft were to be drawn up and made available for both Reggie and Tom Cumberland to sign; that would take about a week to complete, all going well. Reggie was well-satisfied with the outcome of the contract, and pressed this on his father later that evening at dinner; his father seemed to agree that the contract sounded mutually beneficial, and expressed an interest in reading it when the draft copy was delivered to the estate for him to read over. At least mother didn’t give him all sorts of grief over Elsa’s arrival the next day, and Reggie retired that night satisfied with the activities of the day.

The following morning – the day of Elsa’s visit – Reggie was, for some unknown reason, awake almost before Wendy entered his room to wake him. Was he excited about the prospect of Elsa visiting, perhaps? Maybe he was. In the limited time he had available, she was surely the only prospect he had of marrying to retain his inheritance; but there was more than that, he felt. In the two occasions they’d spent time with each other, there had been a connection between them, and that was enticing in itself. He had no doubt, too, that mother was elsewhere in the house, sharpening her claws in preparation for their guest, while father would be going about his daily routine as if nothing different was going to happen. He dressed as Wendy laid out clothing for him, either not noticing or not minding the sideways glances she gave to him in silence, and made his way to breakfast.

The kitchen was a hive of activity, as one might expect with a guest arriving for luncheon in not five hours’ time. Breakfast was low-key, simple yet nourishing, as most of the activity was focussed on luncheon – the guest was from a family of lower standing in society, but still in good regard…the specific reputation of the guest in question notwithstanding, and Reggie’s presence and quiet look quickly stilled any sniggers that might have sounded about Elsa’s reputation. After breakfast he made his way into the garden, spoke with Ben at length about the selections of flowers that should be placed in the sitting room and on the dining table for Elsa’s visit, and Ben agreed to provide a selection suitable for a lady of good graces. Mother, at least, stayed away from Reggie as the eldest son bustled about to make sure all was in order for Elsa’s visit, although Reggie knew that would not last long once his guest arrived.

All too soon, it seemed, the time of Elsa’s arrival was upon them, and Reggie found himself hoping that this visit would go well…he was quite aware that the direction of his future might rest upon the events of the next few hours. He quietly retired to the study to await Elsa’s arrival; standing near the front door would not be a good look, and would certainly annoy Gareth.

 

[Malicious Lullaby]

The rest of that day, Mrs. Strathmore reasoned with Elsa to be on her best behavior for when Mr. Abernathy came but Elsa kept alluding to making no promises without saying such words. Though she and her mother had made a truce for her impending visit to the Hawthorne’s residence in three days time but the moment Mr. Abernathy’s letter came, it seemed that truce had been called off. At least to try and persuade her daughter to be on her best behavior for when he came. That vile man…

When the night came, Mrs. Strathmore had a cold compress placed on her forehead to treat the headache she had after the day’s events; particularly her insufferable daughter. Mr. Strathmore laid at his wife’s side, highly amused. He had been quiet after his testament to not let Mr. Abernathy be alone with his daughter and sat back to enjoy the show of his wife’s nerves unraveling and Elsa getting a sick satisfaction out of it all. It had been quite amusing, even if it did mean his beloved wife was now nursing a near-splitting headache.

“My love.” He cooed, stroking her cheek.
“How did I get so unlucky to give birth to that? I wanted a daughter, I always wanted a daughter, but why must she be so...so…”
“Trying?” He grinned.
“Yes!” She spluttered, pressing her hand over the cold compress on her forehead that kept her eyes covered. Probably for good reason because she might keel over at the nonstop grin on her husband’s face.
“You married me. I must apologize for my genes my love. It seems our daughter takes more from me than from you. Although she certainly got her beauty from you.”
“She is beautiful, is she not?” She sniffled, like she was on the verge of tears but Mr. Strathmore knew better. Oh his beloved wife, ever the drama queen with her frayed nerves that their mischievous daughter enjoyed toying with for her own personal amusement. Yes, his daughter indeed.

Despite Elsa’s actions and the amount of scandal she brought not only on her head but also on her family’s name, his name, she was the apple of his apple’s eyes. His wife would always be the apple of his eye, even if he knew that’s not what it exactly meant. But Elsa would always be the vision of her mother twenty years younger. Serves his wife right to get a dose of her own medicine. The thought made him grin broader.

“Oh wipe that grin off your face, you smug bastard.” She pushed her hand into his face and Mr. Strathmore laughed, taking her hand by her wrist and kissed her palm.
“You love this smug bastard, my dear.”
“God help me…”
Mr. Strathmore slid her cold compress down so she could see him. He leaned in and kissed her and found a new method in relieving her of her headache. Thank goodness their bedroom was on the other side of the house from their daughter’s.

That next morning, Elsa woke up, surprisingly early considering she hadn’t slept a wink the night before last. She rubbed her eyes and stretched, a small mewl of a tired sound coming from her, enjoying the satisfying sensation of her body waking up from a good night’s sleep. Somehow knowing the battle strategy where Lady Hawthorne was concerned relaxed her. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Mr. Abernathy was coming today. The only good thing about it was his meeting would take her mind off of the luncheon two days from now at the Hawthorne estate.

After her bath and dressing in a simple white cotton dress that made her almost look ethereal, her long hair braided thickly but loosely down her back with white pearls and flowers stuck in the plait, she came downstairs for a quick breakfast. They were expecting Mr. Abernathy any moment now and her mother had gone to the nines to make the house respectable and to have a more gallant concession of pastries and teas for his arrival, more so than she had gone to lengths for Mr. Hawthorne. Elsa could only roll her eyes.

Just after she finished her morning cup of tea, Arthur came into the room to announce Mr. Abernathy’s arrival. Her father hadn’t even bothered to stand. He simply crooked his paper down and looked over it before sitting up and setting his morning reading down. Standing, he buttoned the buttons of his overcoat and stepped forward.
“Mr. Abernathy.”
“Mr. Strathmore, a true pleasure, sir.” He even bowed. His motives were transparent considering how he had spoken to Elsa on the occasions she met him. Thankfully her father wasn’t falling for it.
“Yes, I’m sure.” His tone cut the hogwash and Elsa watched with amusement twinkling in her eyes as Mr. Abernathy’s face dropped a little.
“I believe you already know my wife, Mrs. Strathmore.”
“Yes, I do. In fact,” He gestured to her and smiled, handing over a small bouquet of flowers, the only ones he brought. “These are you for Mrs. Strathmore.” He smiled and bowed, hading them over.

“Oh so thoughtful! Please, come and sit. Would you like a spot of tea? Perhaps some pastries?”
“Tea would be nice.” Gretchen went to work immediately. “Thank you.” He sat at the table, directly across from Elsa where Mrs. Strathmore directed him to sit purposely.

“Miss Elsa, a pleasure to make your acquaintance again.”
She smiled slowly, putting on the charm. “I’m sure.” Spoken like her father’s daughter, hearing him clear his throat so he didn’t snort with laughter.

Mr. Abernathy’s visit lasted half an hour in which her father took up most of his talking time before he hinted at the man’s departure. By the end of it once he left, Mrs. Strathmore was furious, more at her husband than at Elsa who seemed to have been practicing her etiquette for meeting the Hawthornes more than anything else. While her husband had been just downright rude!

As Elsa retired to the library to lose herself in a book, Mrs Strathmore practically ran up to her husband. “What was that?!”
“What? We talked. He seemed...okay.” He shrugged, having the audacity to look innocent.
“You bastard.”
“Enough!” He said sharply, turning to face his wife who was smart enough to stand down. “You may push our daughter to any and every man you choose just so she fulfils our deal but ultimately the choice of who MY daughter marries is up to me.”
“You are not fulfilling the deal! It was our idea and you are not holding up your end of the deal!”
“Would you rather our daughter, OUR daughter be sent off to marry a man she despises, who will treat her horribly?”
“She does not have that luxury! Not after what she did!”
“And what of you then?” He asked. “You were nothing but a lowly maid before I married you. And now look at you, how far you have come. Have you forgotten so much of your upbringing and your family that you will act like every other gossip spinster in this society just to save face?!” He barked. He didn’t like to raise his voice, especially to his wife but sometimes she really did try his patience, much the way Elsa tried hers.

“Husband…”
“You married me for love. I married you for love. I lost EVERYTHING when I married you but that was a choice I made because I wanted love rather than my family’s inheritance. I worked my way back up into this high society. I was a scandal for marrying you. You were a scandal for ever bearing the Strathmore name!”

For once, Mrs. Strathmore was speechless. She moved toward her husband and rubbed his back. “I am sorry.”
He sighed deeply, removing his glasses and wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve on his arm. “I understand what she did was unforgivable and we would be no different than my family if we had just turned our backs on her when she came back to us. She is our only child Adelaide. I promised after she was born I would never, ever do to her what was done to me.” He sighed. “And I believe that we raised her well that if she was truly sullied, she would not have come back because she knew she had no chance. That is how I know the rumors surrounding her are rumored. Our daughter is not stupid. We did raise her after all and despite what she did, I think we did pretty alright.”

Mrs. Strathmore moved into his arms and rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes when she felt his arms wrap around her. “She is ungrateful and insufferable, but she is our girl. And I want her to be happy, the way I have been with you.”
“She would not have that with Mr. Abernathy and I could not subject her to that, not even as some cruel and unusual punishment. Please do not make me.” He pleaded with her, lowering his face to bury in the crook of her neck. He found solace as her hand came to the back of his head. Her husband never asked her for anything. She asked him for the world and he delivered. She asked him for a child and he delivered--well technically she did--and when her health would not allow for more children, more children that they both wanted, he never left her alone.

She could give into his one request after over twenty years of marriage.

Elsa turned away from the door and pressed her back against it, closing her eyes. She sighed a huge amount of relief and closed her eyes. “Thank you.” She whispered, her voice raised to the heavens.

After that day, the next two days her mother worked with Elsa vigorously to prepare her properly for her meeting with the Hawthornes. Elsa didn’t question it, neither did she have any of her usual snark toward her mother. Her mother even suggested the possibility of a one on one with either Mr. Hawthorne’s father or his mother. In that event, she was prepared and by the end of it, even her mother was impressed with the way she held herself, carried herself and how she spoke so eloquently that even an ice queen could just might be thawed. It was unlikely but at least she could survive the meeting. The Hawthorne’s were one of the state’s highly regarded family, name and business. They were not to be taken lightly, especially Lord and Lady Hawthorne.

The day of the luncheon, Elsa didn’t feel prepared. She felt like a bundle of nerves that could explode at any moment. It as if the past three days of preparing didn’t matter. She was going into the ice queen’s lair and she would not make it out alive.

Mrs. Strathmore came into her room that early afternoon and alongside Gretchen, helped her to get ready. They decided on a light blue dress that was corseted but also very modest in appearance but elegant. It had layers of white cotton underneath the soft blue to give a nice flair but it did not fan out unless spun, there was no thick wire petticoat underneath, just a chiffon slip. The sleeves came to her elbows with white ruffles peeking out beneath the blue. She wore a simple silver necklace with a pale blue gem as a pendant and her hair was plaited into a braid once again, a light blue ribbon woven through it the same color as her dress. When she was dressed and ready to go, her mother turned her around to face her and looked her over.

“You look beautiful, darling.”
“You mean that, Mother?”
“I do.” She said softly, lacing her fingers with her daughter’s. “I want to apologize to you.”
“Mother…”
“No, please let me.” She sighed deeply. “I want you happy. And one day, this storm of the scandal will clear. But I want you to go into this luncheon today knowing that regardless of what happens, your father and I support you one hundred percent. We have faith in you. We believe you and in you.”
“Thank you Mother.” Elsa hugged her, of her own volition this time and closed her eyes. “I love you.” And she really did mean it.
Not having heard those words from her daughter in so long, Mrs. Strathmore cherished it and hugged her tight.

They went downstairs and she and Gretchen prepared to leave. She asked Gretchen two nights ago to come with her because she could not go alone. Even Gretchen felt the air of nerves but she was at Elsa’s side so long as she was permitted to be.

After a few wise words from her father, mostly wishing her luck, Elsa and Gretchen were off, taking the carriage set for the Hawthorne estate. The moment they got there and she looked out at the large and gallant looking home, her insides quaked.
“I can’t do this.” She whispered.
“You will be fine Miss Elsa. I believe in you.” Gretchen put her hand on hers and looked at her with an assuring smile and Elsa mirrored it, but more of relief than anything else.

Stepping out of the carriage, she walked up to the door, Gretchen at her side. Lifting her hand, she pounded the knocker gently and then clasped her hands back together in front of her. The door opened without a moment’s hesitation and an elderly man stood there to greet them. “Miss Elsa Strathmore.” Elsa spoke softly. “And this is my lady, Gretchen.”
“You are expected Miss Strathmore.” He spoke softly. “Please, come in.” He stepped out of the way and Elsa walked in, Gretchen following in tow. She came up behind her and removed her shoulder jacket, folding it over her arm.

Elsa took in the grand splendor of the home and she swallowed slowly, trying not to outright gulp. She calmed herself, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Please, follow this way Miss Elsa.”

He led her and Gretchen forward to the drawing room and cleared his throat. “Lord and Lady Hawthorne, may I present Miss Elsa Strathmore and her lady, Gretchen.” He then took his excuse after being permitted.

Elsa lay her gaze on the Lord and Lady Hawthorne and smiled softly before curtsying. “It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintances Lord Hawthorne.” She nodded to him and then turned slightly to his wife. “Lady Hawthorne.” She curtsied before straightening herself back up again. Her spine was straight, she looked impeccable and despite whatever iciness shot her way, she did not let it falter or show her nerves. She was Elsa Strathmore, the only daughter and child of Mr. and Mrs. Strathmore. She journeyed a lot of the country in four years and met scarier adversaries. She could survive this.

 

[Sync]

Gareth had, upon allowing Miss Elsa and Gretchen into the house, taken the two ladies to the sitting room – one of several the house had, in fact, and this particular room was, while opulent, not the most grand the house possessed – where Sir Bartholomew and Lady Catherine had decided to meet the woman their eldest son was seeking to court. The room was large, still, well-furnished and decorated, a buffet along the wall next to the door, a serving table positioned neatly in the center of the room, two large couches on the main walls, and two equally-large armchairs by the bay window that overlooked the grounds. The Lord and Lady of the house were sitting in each armchair, the Lady to her husband’s left. Politely, Lord Bartholomew stood when Elsa was shown in and announced and bobbed his head to acknowledge her; Lady Catherine, however, remained seated, her cool gaze fixed upon Miss Strathmore as if examining the young woman.

“Thank you, Gareth,” the Lord uttered in a rich voice, similar to his son’s, as he returned to his seat and gestured for the two ladies to sit in the couch opposite the buffet. “Would you please let Reginald know our guest and her lady have arrived?” The butler nodded his head respectfully and departed the room, after first taking the coats of both visiting ladies.

Lord Hawthorne was dressed respectably in a dark suit with a white shirt under the jacket; he had opted to not wear a tie for this occasion. Lady Hawthorne had made a point of dressing up for the occasion, as if making every effort to remind the Strathmore girl of her place: the lady of the house was dressed in a delightful cream short-sleeved gown that showed her figure and a respectable amount of neck, and had delicate amounts of jewellery placed almost strategically upon her person.

It was Sir Bartholomew who spoke first, as was only proper.

“Welcome to our estate, Miss Strathmore,” he rumbled politely. “I trust your journey here was not an arduous one?”

Gareth, meanwhile, had rapidly made his way, coats draped carefully over one arm, to the study where Reggie was sitting and waiting. The eldest son had manage to avoid pacing.

“Miss Strathmore and her lady, Gretchen, have arrived, sir,” the butler intoned smoothly. “They’re in the second sitting room with your mother and father.”

“Thank you, Gareth,” Reggie replied easily. He stood as the butler nodded his head politely and departed, then took a deep breath and made his way to the sitting room in question, his mind already churning over the number of ways in which his mother might be considering inflicting harm on Miss Elsa.

 

[Malicious Lullaby]

The Hawthornes were certainly impeccable and had an air about them that no one could really match. They were one of the top families of New Haven. To be even in their home was an honor and Elsa knew that. Perhaps it was what was helping her to remain as calm as possible and even on her best behavior. Despite the icy daggers she could feel trying to penetrate her exterior coming from Lady Hawthorne.

For a moment she was relaxed. Lord Hawthorne had the same richness in his voice that Mr. Hawthorne had, the very type of voice that had already made her swoon so. She was easily reminded that he was not his son but she could see the resemblance. This couple had produced a very fine son. Why his reputation the way it was no longer seemed a mystery to her. Had she been so easily swayed, she would have fallen under his charm too no doubt.

Elsa believed with all her heart he wasn’t like that though. He was in the same situation as she was. Only in comparison, while his reputation was bad, because she was a woman hers was worse, even if it wasn’t true--but even more, she came from a family that class wise, was lower than the Hawthornes’. Two strikes against her in that area but she wouldn’t let that stop her. She was still the daughter of a wealthy and successful businessman. That had to mean something if her character didn’t.

Both Elsa and Gretchen took a seat together on the couch they were gestured toward. Both of them sat forward. Gretchen didn’t want to appear a bad maid from the Strathmore house and Elsa had been taught the fine graces of a lady. Just because she was gone for four years didn’t mean she forgot, despite how many times she stepped on Mr. Abernathy’s foot on purpose and stormed out at balls. He deserved it.

“Thank you Lord Hawthorne.” She said softly and politely. “Not at all. I thank you though for having me here today. I hope it is of no inconvenience to you and Lady Hawthorne.” She said softly. “Your home is beautiful.” She said softly. “I noticed the hydrangeas outside. They’re really beautiful. I’ve never seen blue ones before."

She glanced at Gretchen slightly and her friend gave a slight raise of her eyebrows and that let Elsa know to stop talking, especially for the sake of talking. She could feel her heart beating faster but quickly calmed herself, certainly not letting the nerves show. She didn't want to show any type of vulnerability or nerves. She didn't need anything more against her.

 

[Sync]

Sir Bartholomew gave a small smile and a polite nod of his head in response to Elsa’s words. He’d been looking at the young woman intently as she’d sat and spoken, as if he was already sitting in judgement of her, although he said nothing of the his thoughts at this time. He knew well what the rumours said of young Miss Strathmore, but he was keeping – for the moment – an open mind about her, given that Reginald appeared to be showing an interest in the woman…and he held a suspicion that the rumours about Miss Elsa might be, as rumours were often given to being, somewhat exaggerated and removed from the truth. But his wife spoke first.

Lady Catherine, too, had been observing the young woman. She was only slightly pleased that Elsa had not arrived alone; although Reggie had only mentioned Elsa had been invited, a chaperone for the young woman had been expected, and Catherine was gratified enough that the young woman had not forgotten that nicety. Still, the Lady of the house generally looked upon her guest with a manner of disdain, as if she was examining a lump of dirt on her shoe and her problem was how to clean the shoe.

“It was a small surprise that you’d been invited, Miss Elsa,” Lady Catherine replied, politely but coolly, appearing to look down on the two women without actually looking down on them. “Our son did surprise us with your invitation, it is true, but it is easily managed.” The Hawthorne estate had the resources – both financial and staff – to easily accommodate the luncheon request, regardless of how much noticed had been given. “Indeed, I’m looking forward to speaking with you after luncheon, to better understand the woman our son has appeared to take an interest in.”

Sir Bartholomew cocked an eyebrow slightly but did not speak to his wife’s words. Instead he spoke quietly to something else Elsa had commented on. “I’m pleased you noticed the hydrangeas by the door, Miss Elsa. It has taken Ben, our gardener, some time to cultivate them properly.” He got no further, any other thought he may have had instead interrupted by the arrival of Reginald.

The eldest son had paused outside the room for a few moments before deciding to enter. He’d heard his mother’s final comment, and he felt his heart thump for a moment; that would not bode well for Elsa, but there was little he could do, other than…

…walk into the room with a warm smile on his lips, his eyes quickly darting around to see who was seated where. He realised he’d have to sit in the couch facing Elsa and Gretchen; while he’d have liked to sit next to Elsa for support, it wasn’t going to be possible. Instead he greeted each in turn, bobbing his head politely to each as he greeted them, his deepest bow reserved for Elsa. “Father. Mother. Miss Elsa. Miss Gretchen.” He sat himself on the couch and relaxed into it, just as Wendy entered the room behind him carrying a large tray of cups and saucers, a large pot of steaming tea, a large pot of steaming coffee, and milk and sugar. The tray was set down on the buffet and its contents unloaded carefully, as the maid prepared to serve tea or coffee to the persons assembled.

“Tea or coffee, Miss Elsa?” Reggie asked as he looked at Wendy. “Miss Gretchen? And I’m sure you’ve already been asked, but I trust you had no difficulty getting here?”

 

[Malicious Lullaby]

The Ice Queen, as Elsa referred to Lady Catherine in her mind, finally spoke and there was an insult dripped in every instance of every word she spoke to her. Elsa felt her heart beating wildly in her chest, as if it was trying to break through and leave her just to slap Lady Catherine silly--in a most dignified way of course--before leaving Elsa for complete dead. Not a very good thought to have though death was surely preferable in this moment than being grilled by the coldest woman with the coldest, blackest heart ever!

Goodness, this is Reginald’s mother! I can’t think that. Oh but I just did…

“Believe me Lady Hawthorne, I was just as surprised,” she began, smoothing her hands over her lap before clasping them together again. “I was more than grateful when Mr. Hawthorne even showed an interest to call on me, but more honored to be called here today to your home to meet you and Lord Hawthorne.” She said softly. “I shall consider myself a better woman to even be given a chance to our own private talk later.” She complemented her words with a soft smile.

A sideway glance to Gretchen told her that she was doing well and that none of what she said sounded rehearsed or forced or remotely fake. None of this was rehearsed because neither she nor her mother could have really anticipated what Lady Catherine would have said. But this was at least somewhat close that she had an idea of what to say and not crack under pressure.

Nodding with a smile to Sir Bartholomew, she almost opened her mouth to speak when none other than Mr. Hawthorne finally graced them with his presence. Took him long enough. She stood, along with Gretchen at her side at his arrival and both ladies curtsied before taking their seats again. “Mr. Hawthorne, how wonderful of you to join us, and not a moment sooner.” Elsa couldn’t help but tease, her smile showing the teasing nature of her charming words.

Once tea and coffee were brought in, Elsa nodded her head. “Tea for me, please. Gretchen?” She hedged and her maid smiled, nodding her head. “Tea as well, Mr. Hawthorne, thank you.” She replied courteously.

“No difficulty at all Mr. Hawthorne. I was just telling your father that I admired the hydrangeas. Your gardener has done beautifully.”

 

[Sync]

Reggie was glad that Wendy knew exactly what to do, and the young maid busied herself pouring drinks for everyone – coffee for Lord and Lady Hawthorne, tea for everyone else. She made sure to check for milk and sugar for the two guests before handing cups over; again the Lord and Lady first, followed by the guests (partly at Reggie’s signalled insistence), then Reginald himself. There seemed to be some unspoken recognition that passed between Wendy and Gretchen, as if the two recognised each other for their positions in their respective households: Wendy recognised that Gretchen was for Elsa as she was for Reginald. A small and warm smile passed between the two maids for a moment before Wendy returned to her duties; the tea and coffee served, Wendy retreated to the buffet and hovered for a moment before heading to the door to speak quietly to one of the kitchen staff.

Reginald nodded his head slightly at Elsa’s observation. “Ben is the man to thank for the way the flowers are cultivated here, I’m afraid,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “I have little talent for gardening myself. I have tried my hand in the garden, when I was younger, but I must confess – ah, thank you, Wendy – that my efforts at gardening resulted in the things I touched dying.” He paused to sip from his cup, then grinned. “Mother was most horrified, as I recall. I was banned from the garden.”

“Yes, you do seem to have a particular talent for making living things wilt at your touch, Reginald,” Lady Catherine observed aloofly. “How you managed during your years away I shall never fathom.”

“Now, now, mother,” Reggie chided lightly. “No-one I came into contact with died, so that makes me at least marginally better with people than with plants.” Catherine sniffed as she sipped from her cup but did not respond.

“I’ve just been told that Luncheon will be served in a half-hour,” Wendy declared from the door. “I shall come back in twenty minutes to escort you to the dining room.” Sir Bartholomew, apparently content to remain a silent observer for the time being, nodded his head in acknowledgement, and the young maid disappeared from the room.

“Tell me, Miss Elsa,” Reggie began, in an attempt to direct conversation towards interests, “of your appreciation of art. I believe that you and Mother share that, at least.”

 

[Malicious Lullaby]

A slow grin formed on Elsa’s face and she shook her head slowly. “You with a touch of death on poor, innocent nature Mr. Hawthorne. Color me surprised.” She was teasing of course though, unable to help herself. He had set himself up for that one right away. And she had to comment. She glanced at Gretchen who had an all too knowing smile on her face and Elsa’s eyes almost widened, to silently tell her to stop that!

Once glance at his parents and she cleared her throat. Thanking Wendy for her tea, she demurely lifted the saucer and cup together to her lips and took a gentle sip. It warmed her instantly and she felt like she could relax. She sure did love when her tea was made exactly how she wanted it to be.

And the room then turned cold as his mother piped up and Elsa’s eyebrows threatened to lift up into her hairline. So it wasn’t just Elsa. Apparently the ice queen was icy to just about anyone and everyone. Her heart had likely frozen over years ago and if she were to be pushed down the stairs, she would likely shatter. She would not let the thought amuse her. Instead, as Mr. Hawthorne managed to diffuse the situation, Elsa quiet sipped her tea. Wendy announced the luncheon would start in half an hour and Elsa calmly brought her hands down holding the teacup and saucer, resting them in her lap.

It felt like when she was trying to hide in her studies but her teacher would still call on her to answer, because she wanted to hide. There was no hiding in the Hawthorne home. Relaxing her shoulders, she straightened her spine and smiled. “Oh, uh…” She cleared her throat, reaching forward to set her tea down. She swiped her hands over her lap again. “When I see a painting, I like to look for the little qualities that make the painting unique.” She said softly. “Whether it is the brush strokes, or the technique of applying the painting to give texture, or even just the style of painting altogether.” She pursed her lips and looked around the room, her eyes landing on a painting on the wall at the far end.

She pointed to it and slowly stood. “May I?”

Walking toward it, she took a moment to examine it before lightly tracing her finger over the painted canvas. “This one for example,” She began, turning back to them. “The technique used was a blotting technique but also using a steel tool of some kind, the kind with a flat end to apply the paint. It’s confusing because both techniques are melded into each other, looking like one. But if you touch it, you feel the difference of textures and can feel them separately.” She said softly.

 

[Sync]

Catherine raised an eyebrow at the teasing remark made by the girl towards her son. Of course, the Lady of the House noted the brief glance between Elsa and her companion, but that wasn’t going to stop Catherine adding the slight to the list of things to hold against this would-be suitor. She sipped her coffee casually and calmly as the visitor responded to Reginald’s half-question, watched her intently as Elsa stood and approached the large landscape and gave her critique of it…Catherine was inwardly satisfied that the girl had some appreciation for artwork, but that one thing on its own was not enough to undo the scandal she brought with her. And there were more things Catherine wanted to know about Elsa, to criticise, to interrogate…

Sir Bartholomew, for his part, was quietly observing the exchange between his wife and son and Elsa. Also of import to him was how this Gretchen reacted. Elsa’s companion – maid, he was certain – was there not just to chaperone and accompany, but also to try and guide and assist. There was wisdom in that, and he appreciated it. And so far Elsa was fulfilling his son’s appraisal of the woman. He did not doubt that Reginald had misjudged the character of Elsa; rather, he knew his son to be a good judge of character, generally. It was more Reginald’s judging of his own character that Bartholomew had difficulty with at times. Elsa’s poise and bearing had so far held up well. Would it continue to be that way? As he slowly sipped from his cup he listened to how she spoke as much as what she’d said. Of course, they’d only been speaking for ten or fifteen minutes, but Bartholomew knew that if she could survive this day, she would be worth considering as a suitable woman for Reginald to take as a suitor.

It was almost as if Reggie knew what his parents were thinking as he watched Elsa demonstrate her understanding of art. He allowed his appreciation of Elsa to come to his face, his lips curling upward in a natural smile – faint, but definitely present – as she spoke and analysed. He knew, on some instinctive level, that his initial observation of Elsa had been accurate, that Elsa would present as a suitable woman for him to court. If he had to, he’d do so without his parents’ approval; it would be better, though, if they approved. Father might approve of Elsa grudgingly, but mother would have to be almost bludgeoned into the concession. He wanted to get up and stand next to her as she finished her analysis; he dared not, for fear of seeming to weaken her position. Elsa had to be able to stand on her own, especially now.

Catherine leaned forward and sat her cup on the table, then gracefully pushed herself to her feet and walked to stand near Elsa.

“An eye for detail in brushstrokes and painting techniques,” she noted coolly. Catherine actually stood a couple of inches shorter than Elsa, but the older woman seemed to tower over the guest regardless. “I suppose you learned such things in your…travels. Still, an eye for detail is not a bad thing to have.” She lightly ran her fingertips of her right hand over the painting. “Hmmm…”

“I know you appreciate art as well, mother,” Reggie chimed in from where he sat. “Although I believe your appreciation is more like mine and in the aesthetic, rather than the technical. I can also appreciate the techniques involved in painting, the patience involved. Indeed, I have observed to Miss Elsa that I would find her a challenge if she were someone I had to conduct business with.”

“Perhaps it is fortunate, then, that you do not,” Sir Bartholomew rumbled from his chair, his comment as much a reminder of people’s places in society as an acknowledgement of stated ability. He sipped from his cup of coffee before continuing. “Tell me a little of your father, Miss Elsa. I know him by name and reputation only, and Reginald has suggested that there may be mutual advantage in our families conducting business together.”

 

[Malicious Lullaby]

So caught up in the entire appraisal and getting lost in the painting for a moment, Elsa turned around slowly to face her audience and her eyes widened a little. She worried she may have overstepped the line, not by what she said but from actually touching the painting. She remembered touching a painting in her father’s friend’s home and his friend’s wife went absolutely bonkers. She told Elsa never to touch the priceless painting and that was also how she learned that her fingers leaked oils from the finger pads. She had been six. Suffice to say she hadn’t really learned and quickly turned back to the painting, looking at it at an angle to make sure that none of the oils from her finger pads got onto the painting. No such thing! Thank goodness!

Turning back around, she almost yelped when Lady Catherine was suddenly beside her. She was a lot shorter than she expected but the way she carried herself, unless one was standing right beside her, especially one taller than her, the height difference wasn’t really noticeable. “Lady Catherine.” She said softly and stepped back. She expected some kind of insult but was a little surprised that the jist of what she said was actually a compliment. “Thank you.” She said softly. “Uh...not just my travels. In my studies as well but it differs when you can stand right beside a painter as he is painting a gorgeous landscape in the west, explaining the reasons and inspirations behind almost every brushstroke or technique.” She said softly with a small smile. But it was almost a victory in its own when she saw the Lady reach to touch the painting herself, as if wanting to feel for herself what Elsa pointed out. She smiled bigger to herself and took her leave from the painting, sitting back down and picking up her tea.

She sipped it, needing another dose of the courage the delicious tea would offer her before glancing up. Setting her tea cup back down on its saucer, she smiled a little. “Very fortunate indeed. I might spout off about paintings and travels in the west, Sir, but when it comes to business, I regret I must inform you that I am inept.” She offered a little sheepishly but in a charming way, with an accompanying smile. Perhaps if she put herself down a little, it would stave off the incoming onslaught of insults from either Sir Bartholomew or Lady Catherine.

“Oh, he is in the textile business. He oversees a lot of cotton production in the south which is shipped to his factories, produced into fabric and sold all across the east. He is currently trying to find a way to expand his ventures into the west.” She said softly. “He would like to be able to manufacture textiles all across the country and in though it has been some time since the war, the venture would open up plenty of jobs as well. It is another one of his passions.” She said softly. Elsa was very proud of her father and his endeavors. But she worried a little if they asked of her mother. Her background wasn't exactly public knowledge, simply an assumption. But her mother did come from truly humbler roots than that of their higher society. Though it cost her father his family because they cut him off for his marriage and choice in her mother, he made his own name for himself. That was all that mattered, right?

 

[Sync]

“Hmmm,” Sir Bartholomew rumbled softly from his chair as he sipped again at his coffee. “Perhaps we may be able to come to an arrangement between our various business interests, your father and I. It’s worth thinking about. Reginald shall look further into it, seeing as he has made a connection with your family already.” The patriarch fell silent as he kept a keen eye on Elsa, as if watching for her reaction. He didn’t miss his wife’s reaction, though, and it partly amused him.

Lady Catherine had, for her part, simply observed, her gaze moving from one to the other as there was a brief exchange between guest and elder. She didn’t even try to hide her faint sneer of disdain at the suggestion that the ties between the Hawthornes and Strathmores might be strengthened even without her son and this Elsa forming a relationship between them. At least the association would be tolerable if it was just a business arrangement, though. She turned her attention back to Elsa, her gaze frosty.

“While I’m sure the possibility of there being a business arrangement between our two families is a fascinating one to you, my husband, I’m equally certain that our guest does not wish to discuss such a thing,” she noted pointedly. “She is here so we can get to know each other, not to discuss business deals of which she, I’m sure, has no interest.”

“Quite right, my wife,” the lord of the house conceded amiably. If he was put out at all by the gentle admonishment of his wife, he didn’t show it.

“Indeed,” Catherine continued coolly, “I look forward to speaking with Miss Elsa a little later so she and I can know each other better still.” Bartholomew merely nodded his agreement – as did Reggie, almost reluctantly, it seemed, after her mother shot him a near-demanding look.

After a moment of silence, Reggie spoke up once more. “Miss Elsa…you have a liking for music and opera, as I recall you telling me,” he offered smoothly. “I know mother and father are similar, and I’ve agreed that I share that liking. Maybe share with us what it is you enjoy about such a pastime…?”