Worlds Under Creation

Summer Break

2007-07-07T14:35:00.000-04:00

I seem to be on a summer break. Not by choice--but I'm in a traveling troupe of actors and so in rehersal all week, and I'm also in the process of making a short film. All this combined with the chores I've been putting off to do this summer make me very busy. I'm so sorry. I will return, just possibly not till September.

End of World Walker Episode 1

2007-06-09T14:36:00.000-04:00

Let me know if you're up for more Worldwalker or if you'd prefer I go back to WUC...

Back!

2007-05-25T20:17:00.000-04:00

and:

What's Up

2007-04-16T10:21:00.000-04:00

I'm super busy in "real life" right now. Auditions, school, and rehersal...my "hell week" for the show I'm in is next week. All really cool, except they mean there probably won't be any more posts util May. Then--I promise!--there will be, but until then I think I'm just reading.
Till later then!

As promised...

2007-03-27T18:44:00.000-04:00

More Worldwalker

2007-03-18T14:37:00.000-04:00

The Earl Chooses a Tutor

2007-03-08T10:29:00.000-05:00

Calling on the Farriers was one of the most awkward experiences the Earl had had in a while. He did not know who made it most awkward. Elinor, evidently pleased to see him, was somehow hidden away under her spinster's cap; Edward, who had in the last two years had grown very haggard, seemed just as good natured but perhaps a bit weary. Only little Charles in Edward's arms seemed to have any true energy in that stifling, fashionable drawing room. The cause of these changes, or so the Earl guessed, sat on settee and did not rise from it the entire time he called. She told him how pleased she was to see him after so long, and her face searched his for some sign that what she had was a victory. The Earl turned away to the last face in the room, that of a young scholar Edward was recommending. And there he found great relief in the energy of a round, cheerful face. The youth introduced himself as Joseph Turner, said his interest was Ancient Literature (which was what Edward taught), and surprised the Earl by inquiring after Charlie.
The Earl knew his home life to be somewhat gloomy and austere, and though it was mainly his own choosing he wondered if it were best for his son.
This young scholar seemed not only unobjectionable (all he had requested) but in fact rather a nice change of pace. He gave the young man his card and found himself immediately more cheerful, even in Davina's stifling drawing room.

Are you dead, Sydonie?

2007-03-05T10:27:00.000-05:00

No, no, I swear--I'm just kinda busy. I've got most of the pictures for the next Worldwalker post and when I get a moment that will be posted. Hopefully I'll get back on schedule in the next week or two when things calm down. Then we'll do a whole arc of Worldwalker and then back to WUC.

I'm so excited!

2007-02-14T23:02:00.000-05:00

My first World Walker post is up. Check it out!

To add:

The Ship's Boy

2007-02-09T22:22:00.000-05:00

Sir Frederick found 28 men aboard his ship the first day. The second day, searching for the supply records that his men had hid (lest he find out how much they'd spent on whisky) he discovered a boy. The boy was the ship's boy. Many ships had them, boys who were either ragamuffins come off the streets or who were related to a crew member. They mended ropes and washed dishes and scrubbed floors and in general did whatever the sailors needed. They served the captain, as well, if he wanted a servant.
In the month and a half between the time the crew was commissioned and the time Sir Frederick arrived, the men had sat idly aboard the ship during the day, and went not-so-idly off into the city when night fell. It was one of these nights, returning home from a pub, that a few of them encountered the ship's boy. He came running towards them. It was dark, and they were drunk, and the boy narrowly missed Ponsby as he shot past them. A moment later a man emerged from the doorway in front of them and glared into the night. "You lot! Didja see a boy run that way?"
They slurred and mumbled and giggled a general affirmation. "I'll tan the bloody twit. Where the hell did he go?" They had no idea. The man pushed through the rabble and disapeared down the empty alleyway. The sailors started forward again. Suddenly a small voice adjacent to Ponsby's elbow inquired, "Are you sailors?" "Eh? How did you get here? I saw you run off!" "The doorway. Are you sailors?"
"No, soldiers," Ponsby said and they all laughed. They were sailors.
"Can I join you?"
"And do what?"
"Whatever you do."
They laughed madly. "I can drink. I once had a pint of ale." Raucous laughter. But they were too drunk, or perhaps they found him too funny, to swat him away. And he certainly wasn't leaving the cover of their company. The next morning they found him getting water to boil and decided that he would be a useful blighter to have around, and so he stayed.
When Sir Frederick came everything changed. The men had to work, scrubbing the whole place and checking for leaks and going to bed at funny hours in preperation for shifts once they went to sea.
Sir Frederick discovered the ship's boy sleeping in beetween two barrels in the store room.
He simply looked at the bruises on the boy's shin and asked him his name. Kit, the boy told him, though his mother had called him Christopher.
From then on the boy slept in Sir Frederick's room. He was given a bath, new clothes, and (this was the biggest change of all) a bedtime. He had to work--no mistake. He got calluses from the ropes and once he burned himself making supper. But the bruises went away and did not return, and Sir Frederick told him he was a good worker. He felt proud for the first time in his young life.

The Closed Room and the Mysterious Door

2007-02-06T16:46:00.000-05:00

The Earl had picked one of his least favorite mourning suits, one he had rarely worn, but even so his heart pounded a little as he put it on. He was not sure what he was afraid of, but he rather thought he was afraid that the pain he had felt when he wore it last would come rushing back to him. There was no such flood, to his relief. He could feel the empty place inside him where the flood would have gone, and it was--tentatively--simply empty.
He nearly jumped when the door opened.
"Father?"
"Ah--Charlie. Knock next time, pup. Where's your nurse?"
"Helping Maddie pour out the bathwater."
The Earl loved to take long baths, and he could well imagine it took two to lug the tub up to the window.
"Are you--going to church?" Charlie skipped past his father to the other end of the room.

"Yes, for a funeral. Matty's Aunt. Do you remember her?"
"Yes. But is she really dead?" Charle was smiling as though the words had no meaning.
"Of course she!--unfortunately. Come here, Charlie."
Charlie came obediently, but he was secretly disappointed. He was rarely allowed in this room, which was usually locked. It was not his father's bedroom, but for some reason it had some of his father's clothes in it. The most fascinating part was the door at the other wall. Charlie suspected it was locked, too, but he would have liked a chance to look. Instead he stood in front of his father.
"Now listen up. I'm going away for a little while, and I want you to behave yourself."
Charles was confused. He did not usually get a lecture like this when his father went into the town.
"My Friend Edward wrote me a letter recently, and it reminded me that I have been skimping on your education, young man. I'm going to visit him, and with any luck I will come back with a tutor for you."
So he was going to London again! "A tutor?"
"He'll teach you and watch you during the day."
"Nurse Thale does that."
"Yes, but she doesn't teach you what you are ready to learn. Reading, writing, Latin, French, music, Science..."
None of this sounded appealing to Charles. "What about Nurse Thale?"
"She'll go help Lady Arnold during the day. Lady Arnold will need it, with her new baby coming."
Charles took it all in silently. He was rather sorry he had come in at all. He was even sorrier when his father grinned and and ushered him out into the hall a moment later, for he had missed another chance to look at the mysterious door.

Death and Life Come to the Bede House

2007-01-29T10:23:00.000-05:00

Death was coming to the Bede house, but Father Zachary did not yet know it. It was nearly dawn, and he sat alone in the front room. He was very tired. From his bedroom, he could faintly hear the sounds of movement, of footsteps and hurried speech. Occasionally there was a gasp or two that might have been Maria, but otherwise he had no idea what what going on behind the closed door. Just as he was beginning to fall asleep, he heard the sound of an infant's reluctant cry. His eyes snapped open and he came to stand by the door. He wished he could come in, he wished he could see the child, but all he could hear was Dr. Pershing and his wife moving hurriedly around the room.
"A swab, Janet," Dr. Pershing was directing their maid.
There was more clatter and then, "You could bring him out, now."
There were sudden footsteps towards the door and it was thrown open. Mrs. Pershing held a baby in her arms. She pushed him back before he could see more than a glimpse of Maria. "It's a boy!"
It was, a small, pale one with surprisingly pale hair. Father Bede took him.
"How is she?""Maria? Tired. Let us clean her up and then you can see her."
His anxiety must have been evident, for she said, in a kind, managerial sort of tone, "Why don't you show him to Maria's aunt? She would love to see him..."
Father Bede nodded carefully, the warm, wet weight of his son in his arms. Elijah, they had agreed.
Aunt Wilcox had been sent to bed around midnight on the pretense that the baby wasn't coming any time soon. This was really an excuse to get her and her senseless chatter out of the way, but she had swallowed it easily enough and gone to bed. Father Bede thought this was just as well considering Maria's state during her heaviest labor with Matthew. It was best to get her aunt out of throwing range. Come to think of it, he wondered why there had been no such fury this time.
He came into the room quietly, for he had no free hand to knock and did not want to call out for fear of waking the baby now sleeping on his shoulder. But Maria's aunt lay sound asleep, and so he called out to her. "Aunt Wilcox?"
There was no response. For a moment he thought to call her by her Christian name, but then the odd feeling that had been floating around the tired mist in the back of his brain hit him fully.
Aunt Wilcox was a terrible snorer, so much so that he and Maria could hear her from their room. The room was perfectly quiet now.
All at once he understood. He did not have to come closer, or even to touch her, though he would have found her cold. There was something about the stiffness of her features and the limpness of her body that told him.
"Oh, I suppose you can come in now," said Mrs. Pershing. She was fussing with the pillows on their bed. Maria was looking tired but otherwise fine as she lay on one side of it. She was indeed only tired, and he smiled at her in relief. Better yet, she smiled back. Father Bede handed Elijah to Mrs. Pershing. He turned to the Doctor.
"Could I speak to you outside?" he murmured.

It would be a be a busy day for the doctor and a busy week for him.

Sir Frederick Learns His Value

2007-01-28T22:21:00.000-05:00

The official base of the Second Sea Lord was a ship, but of course he had a office in the city. Fredrick did not realize it, but as he stepped into the naval offices building he was already beginning to feel as though he were on a ship again. The endless blue, the narrow stairs and railings, and the high veined windows all gave him the sense that he was in fact at sea.
Frederick entered the Second Sea Lord's office just as apprehensively as he had entered the converted fisherman's shed the first time he was recruited. Then he'd been assigned an ordinary rank, a ship, and been asked for an address in case they ever had to write home. Things were different now, and yet they felt eerily the same. Vice-Admiral Sir Horace Hennet was simply a small, balding man with an outdated mustache and thinning auburn hair. He was giving Frederick a studied look, but he seemed satisfied."Good Morning, Sir Frederick." "Good Morning, Sir."
Sir Horace sat and so Frederick did so as well."Your ship is the HMS Ino. A good small ship."
"I'm glad," said Fredrick, rather puzzled. The navy would never claim to sail a bad ship, and...
"How small?"
"A schooner. Tiny, really. Six guns. 28 men."
"But what do you expect me to do with that? I--" Surely they hadn't dragged him all the way from Cennanceaster and his wife to command a little messenger ship. Such ships hardly needed captains anyway! "What did Lord Harbries tell you about your position? I was under the impression you understood what you were going to be doing."
"I--what? I was simply told I was needed. That was all I needed to hear."
"Ah. Let me begin again. Your assignment is not an ordinary one. Tea?" "No, thank you."
"Well, I don't mind if I have some myself. Let's see...I don't remember whose idea it was, but I believe it was Sir Peter's. I can't be certain..." "What was his idea?" said Fredrick, unusually impatient.
"Well you see, we needed a very specific person for the role. Clever, calm, has the men fierce like bulls and yet docile like lambs to his commands..." "Please, sir," said Frederick. "What is my position?"
"Oh! I haven't even said! Oh dear! You are to command a spy ship."
Frederick had never even heard of such a thing, and when he was recovered enough to say so, he did. It took two of Sir Horace's sips of tea. "Well, of course you must have realized we've always had such things." said Sir Horace.
In fact Sir Frederick had not. To him war had been an open plane, upon which one fought fairly and deftly and honorably and occasionally grimly, but calculated espionage was not part of it. Or at least that was what he had believed. But now that he thought about it, he realized that as a soldier he had been given a lot of "information" which must have come from somewhere. He had received it unquestioning, as though it were directly from some Divine Being, but Frederick had lost enough companions to suspect that the Divine Being mainly kept to himself in such affairs, and so indeed such ships and other means of "information" must have existed all along.
"How do I do that?" he said at last. "I--have no experience..." "It's fairly simple," said Sir Horace. "You take the ship just to the edge of where it will not be seen. Then you send men in a smaller ship to search the coastline. I'm afraid we only found one that speaks french, but anyhow if you take nets and civilian clothes you shall pass off as fishermen. Not that you will be seen, most likely. And when you have discovered a place or activity of interest--we are looking for supply ships, ports, even the smallest inlet that harbors a ship or two--you will return and let a scout ship know. There are three others of your kind, one further North and one near Spain. And with some luck you will help us discover where Napoleon is hiding all those damn ships."
Frederick could not think of anything further to say. The idea of attempting to pass as French fishermen was hilarious, the concept of needing to not quite so. One did not tell the Second Sea Lord that he was mad, nor that the Lord High Admiral must be. At last he said, "Why did Lord Harbreis recommend me? To Sir Parker, I mean." "Well he heard about you past actions, of course. Quite commendable."
"Yes, but there are many men who you could have said the same of." "Are there? But anyhow, there is another advantage. We are not the only nation to employ subterfuge. The less well known you are the less likely anyone will wonder whether we have employed you in such measures. And as far as Lord Harbreis could tell, you spent most of your time at home with a reclusive and gloomy Earl of a small town. What could be more ideal?"
Frederick could think of several more ideal situations that the one he was currently in, but he was too dazed and too determined to say anything else.
"Good day, Sir Horace. Thank you for the briefing and the appointment. I shall report this Monday as we previously communicated." "Good day, Sir Frederick," said Sir Horace and he lazily lit his pipe.

6 Months for Henrietta

2007-01-18T16:36:00.001-05:00

Frederick did not have to tell her, though of course he did, gently. He did not have to hear her bewail his decision, and Henrietta was proud of that. When he was done talking, (she could not remember what he said) he put his arms arond her and she buried her face in his shoulder. It was the only thing that comforted her. He would not leave until early November, and so at first she felt safe. November was remarkably slow in coming, up until the day it came, and then it had been over in an instant. They stood in the front hall and he kissed her and told her to kiss Lexa each day for him, and that the Earl would recieve all his letters and bring her hers. But even as he spoke to her Henrietta felt oddly empty, as if he were already gone. She struggled to savor a last moment that had somehow already slipped away.
And then he was gone. The house was strange and empty, and everyone was a little more gentle with her. If November had come slowly, it passed even slower.
At the end of the month Maria Bede, herself expecting confinement, noticed Henrietta's condition."Now you have something lovely to look forward to!" she said. And although Henrietta was a little heavier by then, she had to admit she felt a little lighter.

The Boys Meet the Men

2007-01-15T16:53:00.000-05:00

It was a hot May day, and everyone was too busy anyway to care where the boys went. Even Steven, who was his uncle the storekeeper's apprentice, was let out to go play. So the four boys found themselves at Keenan Pond, exuberant and free. It was lovely to be swimming, and lovelier still to be unfettered by adults.
An hour later, Steven was clambering up the bank for the hundreth time when he discovered that they were, in fact, being beset by grown-ups again.
A moment later a a figure darted out from behind the hill, and Steven realized the men had brought a boy with them. The boy noticed the swimmers almost immediately and seemed surprised for some reason, but the two men were in deep conversation and did not even glance their way. They seemed to be rather dignified and grand to Steven. He had come to Cennanceaster only two weeks ago and didn't think he had ever seen them in his uncle's store. "That's the Earl and Sir Frederick." Jemmy said behind him.
"Who are they?"
"They're gentlemen," explained Jemmy confidently. "They own everything, see. The Earl owns this pond. I hope he doesn't tell us to leave."
But neither of the men seemed interested in them. The dark-haired one had turned to the boy and was lauging and saying something that sounded like, "What did you think they would be wearing?"
"Harry!" cried Jemmy to his brother. "The Earl's over there!"
Harry spun around to look. "He's a man, so I guess it don't matter about our clothes. You let me do the talking if he asks us to leave."
"Fine."
They did approach and the red-haired man asked,"What are you boys doing swimming on a Wednesday? Do your fathers know where you are?"
"Yes, sir." said Harry. "He knows where we are. He said we might go."
"And would he say the same thing if he knew you were running around without a stitch of clothing?"
"He's proud that we're boys, sir," said Harry.
Behind Steven, Jemmy laughed, but Steven swallowed to stop himself from crying. His own father had been dead six months.
"What about you?" asked the man Steven now assumed was Sir Arnold. "I haven't seen you anywhere before, have I?"
"My uncle's Horace Heathrow," explained Steven for the perhaps the hundreth time in the last two weeks. "I'm come to be his new apprentice."
"Horace Heathrow let his apprentice free on a Wednesday?" asked the other man. The Earl, Steven thought.
"Well, the shop's closed down because everyone went to talk about the proclamation at the Herald's Hoof, so he didn't need me,"
The Earl and Sir Frederick looked at one another.
"The proclamation?" asked the Earl.
"Of war, your Lordship."
"Hell! Damn!---boys, don't use foul language." said the Earl.He turned to Sir Frederick. "I've got to get home and then to town," said the Earl.
"I've got to get to Henrietta," said Sir. Frederick. "Before Joan gets back from shopping with the news." And with that he turned and walked towards the house behind Steven. Steven remembered Matthew saying that a Knight lived in it, and now he realized it was Sir Frederick's own house.
"We can stay?" laughed Jemmy, who was too young to understand.
"Yes, boys. But Drake will come mind you if Charlie here stays," said the Earl.
"Can I swim with you?" asked Charlie.
"Well, I guess the lake's your father's," said Harry. "Do you know how to swim?"
"No..."
"We'll teach you, won't we, Steven?"
"Of course," said Steven. He looked back to watch the Earl and Sir Fredrick leave, but they were already gone.

Maria Decompresses and Zachary Lets Her Hair Down

2007-01-09T15:59:00.000-05:00

When Maria's sister, Anne, was 16, she suddenly developed an odd malady that made her tight and flushed whenever the tailor's son stopped by. In his absense, Anne found herself speaking circles around his name, as if she were dying to have someone else bring it up but did not dare to do so herself. She drove Maria, their mother, the maid, and their aunt mad as she avoided the precious word--Jacob--but her chatter did her some good.
Maria thought it was a little like tipping over the rain barrel during a storm. It would fill up again for sure, and all the pressure and weight of the pounding water would once again make the barrel tight and strained as a drum, but for an hour or two that pressure might be relieved. Maria remembered when Anne first dared to say his name, and how she had stood for a moment, dumbfounded, after it escaped her lips. She had laughed a little, stunned at the relief it gave the pressure in her chest.
But Maria had no such relief. She had attempted to speak circles around his name, but knew she ought not to mention his existence to her husband. For a while she spoke of him to her aunt, but her aunt became oddly besotted with James herself , and did not hesitate to use his name frequently, much to Maria's distress. Maria soon found she had no one to confide in at all. She simply could not bear to tell anyone why she wanted to talk about him, after all--it was shameful enough to bring him up when her audience was unsuspecting. She soon found her rain barrel had no relief, and over the next few months it grew tighter and tighter.
After James left the storm began to recede, and the pressure grew a little less. Part of the pressure leaked out the cracks--she lost composure several times. Two weeks after he left she told herself she ought to bundle up her music and put it away as it was before, instead of carrying it home to work with. But when she stood on the balcony and looked down at the organ she found a strange urge to throw the music instead.
Much to her own surprise she did, over the railing and down onto the pews below. She stared in horror at the falling papers, and found herself more horrified to realize she had been grinning for a moment.
There were other points when she lost composure, but mainly she detached herself. Slowly, the pressure began evaporate, bit by bit, until she found it was possible to speak to her husband about trivial things, and then that it was possible to smile at him, and then, one night, that it was possible to sit by him on the same sofa as she finished a doll for little Abagail Pershing. She had no babies of her own anymore--Matthew was nearly 5.
Zachary was reading something--they always found things to keep them busy when the other was around. But that night Maria discovered that enough pressure had evaporated from her "barrel" that she could ask him what he was reading.
"Fordyce's sermons," he replied. He did not seem to want to talk, but for the first time in a long time, Maria found she did. It was an odd feeling.
"What does he say?" she asked.
"Who?"
"Dr. Fordyce."
"Nothing but what he should. He writes of how young women ought to act. I thought I might put them in this week's sermon, though some of the ideas are a bit--restrictive."
Maria felt the preassure build up in her again. "You could just read it to me now!" she cried. But she had lost composure again, for Zachary looked up at her in surprise.
"What do you mean?"
"I hear your sermons every week, Zachary. You need not burden the whole town with your condemnation of me."
And then at last something went right for her. Zachary was not a Vicar for nothing--he recognized guilt in a repenting person. "It was not just for you, Maria," he said blankly. "It was for everyone to take heed. But if it upsets you--I won't put his sermons in at all this week."
The last part was much louder for Maria. She had put her sewing aside entirely and wrapped her arms around her husband. He said nothing. At last he dared with one hand to reach up and stroke her hair.
They sat for quite a while in silence. The book and the sewing lay quite forgotten.
"One of your hairpins has come out," said Zachary.
"It doesn't matter," said Maria. "You can take them all out."
Zachary was not sure what had landed his wife in his arms again, and he was similarly uncertain about where she set her hairpins anymore. It had been years since he had taken down her hair. But after some probing her hair came down, sending the last pin skittering across the floor. Much to Zachary's disapointment, Maria got up to fetch it. Then she took her other pins from his hand and without meeting his eyes went towards their bedroom. He was disapointed again--as he was every night.
But then at last something went right for Zachary. Maria stopped at the door and turned back. She said in the smallest of voices, "When are you coming to bed, Zachary?"

Peaceful Silence and Talk of War

2007-01-06T11:01:00.000-05:00

That fall was a happy one for Henrietta. One night, early in November, both Nurse Thale and Doctor Pershing were sent for and by morning Nurse Thale was sent back to invite the Earl."She is really a lovely baby, Frederick," he said. "Give my compliments to Henrietta."

"I will," said Frederick happily. "Athough I'm afraid she has inherited my hair. Henny teased me about that when she saw it. She says I've ruined all her prospects."

"Some gentlemen like red hair, you know," said the Earl.

"I know," agreed Frederick. "That's what I told Henny."

"How is she?"

"Fine. She's sleeping."
"Ah." There was a brief and remarkably peaceful silence. The little girl seemed to fill it all by herself.

What do you mean to name her?" asked the Earl."Alexandra," said Frederick, looking rather abashed. "That is, we were wondering if you would be godfather."
"I'm honored, Fredrick," said the Earl.
He really was, too. Frederick was such a good man that he wondered how he was supposed to spiritually improve his daughter.There was another peaceful silence, and they could hear the sounds of chickens from the yard and pots and pans from the kitchen.
Then suddenly Frederick said, "Could I ask you something, my lord?"
"Anything," said the Earl. He was tired of correcting Frederick about the title. He had even become used to being refered to as the Earl and dropped Lord Damier entirely.

"Will there be war?"
"There already is war, Frederick."
"I know, but real war."
"Hardly anybody goes to France nowadays." pointed out the Earl.
"And there's Egypt, too..."
"I know, but..."
"Yes. Real war. Very soon, I think. That treaty was doomed before it was ever signed." He hadn't joined a session of parliment in a while, but he knew that much.Frederick was looking at his daughter again.
"How long, do you suppose?"
"It depends on how long it takes Napolean to put down the Antilles. A year, if that."
Frederick looked down at his daughter in a new way. Then he settled awkwardly against the crook of his arm and said, "I've been offered a position as a vice-admiral."

Aunt Wilcox's Gossip

2006-12-31T17:05:00.000-05:00

"Have you heard?" crowed Mrs. Wilcox to her nephew-in-law. She'd just returned from taking Matty on a walk one early fall afternoon. "The music-master of the school is leaving!"
"Is he," sighed Zachary from the table where he was counting up the offerings.

"Yes. Such a handsome young man. It is a pity. I thought for sure he would find a pretty girl here and settle down. But he is going off to Scotland again. Can you imagine?"

His wife's Aunt did not approve of foreign places at at all.
"Why don't you go tell Maria?" suggested Father Bede, nodding towards their bedroom. "I'm sure she'd like some company. She's feeling a bit under the weather today."

"Oh, I already told her. This morning," said Mrs. Wilcox.
"Ah. Well, forgive me, but you see I have rather busy with some important buisness now, so maybe you will go talk to her anyway and let me finish it."

"What a silly father you have, Matty," cooed his great Aunt. "He doesn't think gossip is important at all. He doesn't see any signifigance in that boy's leaving!"

Laughing, she set off to her niece's room, where she hoped to find a better audience.

Duets

2006-12-30T21:28:00.000-05:00

Maria rarely came to see James anymore, but she was never more glad, nor did she feel more guilty. He understood none of this, of course, and greeted her as warmly each time.
"I thought I might play you the piece--I wrote a second verse, like you thought I should."

She sat, arranged her music, straightened her back, and began to play.

She was finishing the second verse when James seemed to have an idea.
"What if we added some accompinament?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked back.
"The verse you were just playing could be the accompinament for the first verse," he said.
"But this is for services!" she said. "A duet for services?"
"Here. I'll play the second part." And with that he sat down perilously close to her on the piano bench and moved the music closer so that he could see.

Maria's mind was reeling, but she found to her surprise that they managed to keep rhythm together very well. The song finished with a resounding chord."There!" cried James. "How do you like that?"

"It's very nice," Maria agreed.
"You see," he said, resting his hand on hers. "Duets are fit for God's ears, too."
Maria did not know what to say. His hand was still resting on hers lightly, and he was blushing. She let their hands drop onto the keys of the piano, and and a few dischordant notes rang through the whole church.

"Do you think so?" she said. She knew the answer. She knew they were not talking about duets, and she knew James was wrong. But James was far closer to her than God at that moment, and she was very lonely. "I just...don't think it's right."

But now James knew he was wrong, too, for he set her hands gently on the C-chord. "Perhaps not, Mrs. Bede," he said softly. "I begin to think that even musicians must answer to God alone, and in that case perhaps their music ought to be seperate as well."

"No!" cried Maria. "My music has much improved since you started to hear it. I hope you don't mean you won't meet me here again!"
James simply stood to gather up his own music. She could not see his face."I will miss it, Mrs. Bede, " he quietly. "But you are right."
Maria stood too. She did not think she could bear it if she could not see him every once in a while, and spend a quiet afternoon with him and his music.
"Please...Mr. Menzies. I ... did not mean that I did not want to see you. I simply..."

She had nothing to say. He is a better person than even I imagined. I never thought I would regret that in anyone, she thought.
James was suddenly facing her again. "You are an even finer woman than I thought, Mrs. Bede," he said quietly. "I must thank you for keeping me from--being a worse man than I ever imagined myself to be before I met you."

His well-trained voice broke then, along with a thousand other things, and he left the church.

Charles and His Dogs

2006-12-25T15:51:00.000-05:00

My wonderful little brother got me both Pets and University expansion packs for Christmas. (And yeah, really that means my parents got it, so thanks, Mom and Dad!) Meet Hestia (grey and white) and Jupiter (camel and brown), the Earl's hunting dogs. Here are some random pictures of Charles playing with them (and his boat).

If you look closely in this picture you can see the Earl off in the background, watching his son.

Hope all of you are having a Merry Christmas!
-Sydonie

Henrietta Cancels the Coach

2006-12-22T08:09:00.000-05:00

Henrietta sat up with a start when her husband came in the door.
"It's all set up," Sir Frederick declared, and smiled at her disarray. "We'll even have the same house as last year. That'll be far less of a pain, won't it? And the Earl says he'll come up too, in a little. You'll see Elinor again, and we won't see your brother..."

"No," Henrietta said, and smiled a little. She turned away from him to get up. "Frederick," she said. "I-I'm very sorry..."

Sorry? He couldn't imagine why she would be sorry. Unless she had invited her brother after all...
"We can't go up to London this year."

"Why not?"

She let out a burst of breath somewhere beetween a sob and laughter, and smiled weakly at him. But he suddenly realized what she had meant, and felt rather stupid. He pulled her against him, laughing. They were both laughing, trembling against one another.

"Ninny!" Henrietta murmered against his neck.

"When?"

"November," she said. She looked somewhat dazed. "It-it's so early, though..."
She was afraid, he realized.
"I didn't want to tell you until later," she said softly. "But I knew we couldn't go up if..."

Frederick was doing math. It was the middle of March. What did that mean? They weren't even as far along as before. But he mustn't let her think like that.
"It is reason enough to cancel the coach, dear," he said. He ran his hand through her hair. "Now all you and I shall have to do is to think up a reason not to invite your brother here in the summer."

"You can say I'm in too delicate a condition to stand the likes of him!" she laughed. And then somehow Frederick knew it would be alright.

Charles' Birthday Gift

2006-12-19T07:57:00.000-05:00

It was January 18, 1802, but Charles did not know that when he woke up. What he did know was that today was his birthday, and he was 4. Four seemed very old to him, but he found he did not feel any older than yesterday. Perhaps, he thought, he would begin to feel more grown-up as the day went by.

He hopped out of bed and wondered if he could sneak into the nursery next door and have his breakfast before Nurse Thale came in and made him get dressed, but before he could think about this properly she had come in. She always seemed to know when he woke up.
"All right, Charlie, love. Clothes off."

"But it's cold! Besides, it's my birthday!"

"I know, love. But the faster you get out of your nightshirt the faster you can get into your clothes and the faster you can eat your breakfast and the faster you can go see your father."
"My father?"

Nurse Thale smiled. "He wants to see you, goose. It's your birthday, after all."

Charlie loved to see his father. He lifted his arms hurredly so Nurse Thale could dress him.
Finally Nurse Thale decided that his hair was brushed enough told him he might go look for his father if he was careful not to disturb him. Charlie bounded out of the room.

Charles had lived at Hartfestol his entire life, and he had, in fact, not been off its grounds except to go to church sometimes. Still, the great house enchanted him, starting with the great hall, whose banisters he longed to be big enough to slide down. Today he found himself stopping for a moment just to look up. Then he hurried off to the breakfast room.

He found his father reading a newspaper. Charlie loved the way his father did whatever he liked, which was, in this case, wearing his robe to the breakfast table. No matter how many times he tried to convince Nurse Thale to let him do that, she never did.
His father put the newspaper down when he came in.

"Hallo, Charlie. How does it feel to be four?"

"I'm not quite sure yet."
"Well, you look much older already," declared his father. "Before I know it you'll be ready to go off to school. Good god! Imagine that!"
Charlie could not. But it didn't seem to matter, because his father just kept smiling.

"Try the crumpets this morning, Nurse Thale. Have you had anything yet?"

"No, your lordship. But I couldn't..."

"I have to go out anyway in a moment. Go ahead," his father said. Then, after a moment, he told Charles, "If you go look in the drawing room I just might have left a present for you there."

Charlie turned eagerly towards the drawing room, and found, much to his surprise, that he was not at all sure what his gift was.

"What is it, Father?"

"It's a boat."
"Like the one at Keenan Pond?" Sometimes Nurse Thale would take him for a walk to Keenan pond, which lay on the estate. There was an old rowboat there, which had not been used in 2 or 3 years and which Nurse Thale would never let him play on, much to his annoyance.
"Exactly like the one at Keenan Pond, my boy. Just smaller, for little boys to play with."

I thought I was a big boy now, thought Charlie. "But what are those--things?"
"The sails? They catch the wind so the boat will go. That's how ships work," his father explained. Charlie was still quite confused, but he went and sat down by his toy to better examine it.

His father was still talking, but in a different way now.
"They have ships like that in France," began his father. "Little ones. And do you know what they do with them? The little boys' Nurses take them to the park and they put their boats in the fountains and let them sail around."

This sounded like a great deal of fun to Charlie, but he wondered if Nurse Thale would allow him to do it.
"Your mother and I used to walk around the park when we first met, Charlie. The Luxembourg Gardens. And she and I would walk around there, and she would joke that she wished she were a little boy so she could play with boats in the fountains. She used to say that when she had a son she would take him herself so she could play with him and his boats."

When Charles grew older, he would think back on what his father had said and wish he could remeber it better, for when he grew older he realized that his father's real gift to him on that day was a piece of his mother, and his father guarded those pieces very closely. But at that moment he was only a little boy, and so he said, "Father, do you think I could go to the Lux-em-burg...--the park, I mean--and play with my boat?"

But his father laughed. "I don't think so, Charlie. You see, France is somewhat far away from Hartfestol--from Cennanceaster, in fact. You'd have to take a big boat just to get there. And besides, right now the French are our enemies, and so no one goes to France. But maybe one day you and I can go, when the war is over."

Maria's Question

2006-12-08T08:09:00.000-05:00

"Now down you go, Matty, and see if you're a big enough boy to play with Miss. Pershing," instructed his mother.

"Down!" he cried joyfully.

"He's not old enough," declared Miss. Pershing, wrinkling her nose. "I'm too big for him."

"Oh?" asked Maria.
"Babies are smelly and loud and suck their thumbs," she explained.
"I think I saw you sucking your thumb in church last week, Miss. Pershing. But you're not a baby, are you?"

"No! I'm a girl--a big one. I hate babies."
"I see. Where's your mama today?"

"I dunno. She's feeling sick again, I think."
"Sick again?"
"I think she's in her room. But Mina probably went to get her after she let you in, because that's what she's supposed to do when company comes. Except sometimes my father says--"
"Sorry, Maria. I was getting dressed."
"How are you? Your little Brit here says you're feeling sick..."
"Oh, well," said Grace, bringing her voice to a modest whisper. "I havn't exactly explained this to her yet, but it's just the usual."
"Oh! Grace! Again? Already? But Percival isn't a year old yet!"

"Don't begin." Grace laughed. "He'll be a year old next month, anyway. Not that I'm looking forward to another round of the--'customary ills', as Harold says. Why don't you have the next one, huh?"

But she seemed to have struck something with the last part, for Maria looked away.

"I don't think so," Maria said quietly.
"Why? Maria...?"
"We haven't--not for a while--I don't know..." Maria did not seem to know what to say, but that only meant that Grace would not know what to think, so she told Brittany to go tell Mina that Jemmy had torn the hem of his gown again. It was a poor excuse, but Brittany didn't seem to need any to leave "the baby's" company.
Maria looked at her hands carefully for a moment, and then she spoke. "I--I think it's my fault."

"What do you mean?"
"He just--one night he just started--lecturing me. He told me that I had forgotten my wedding vows and--that I didn't care about him anymore."

"And do you?" asked Grace.

The moment the words came out of her mouth, she realized that she had said something neither of them would ever forget. They often spoke about their husbands, who, besides being the two most prominent men in town excepting Sir Arnold ant the Earl himself, were both stern, stuborn, and often overly critical. They spent hours comparing these atributes of the men they had married, and when they returned home they found them easier to bear. But they had never dared to ask one another whether they were really happy.
"I thought I cared for him enough. I made sure there was a dinner and I helped him at the church and played the music and I took care of Matty and I--well, I had Matty. And I never was shrewish or argued with him. But all he had to say was that--I wasn't affectionate."

Suddenly Grace remembered her churching, eight months ago. "What about when you came over and called him 'dear' and took his arm at my churching? That was affection. He liked that, I remember. Tell him about that."
"I--what?" Maria asked. After a moment's recollection she smiled gently. "Oh, Grace. I was only trying to prevent another fight between our husbands. You know how they can be--both always sure they are right..."
"Always..." agreed Grace.
"Let's not talk about it anymore. If he forgives me for it--and I think he will--then I'll just start being more affectionate."

"What if he doesn't?"
"I don't know," whispered Maria. "What would you do?"
They were quite silent, and then--this was an odd part--for a moment it seemed as if Maria was about to say sometimg more. But then she was distracted by preventing Matthew from playing with the fire poker.
All Grace knew was that she was relieved to find, despite their husband's similarities, that she was fairly certain Harold would never say such a thing to her. He was unstintingly certain she adored him, and though it annoyed her to no end most of the time once she realized the alternative she was positively grateful. She was fortunate. She would never have to know the answer to Maria's question.

Zachary Is Alone

2006-12-07T16:50:00.000-05:00

Zachary Bede was sitting alone in the front room when his wife came in from their bedroom.
"He's in bed at last," she announced.
"That took a while," he replied.
"He wanted a lullaby."
"You'll spoil him, Maria."
"He just likes music, I think. Didn't you noticed how he turned his head during the Mayfair when the music came on?"

He had not noticed. His wife always seemed to notice things he didn't. She usually knew more about his parishioners than he did.
"He's a bit old for lullabies," he told her. "Soon enough he'll be ready to be read to every night."
"Read to?"
"The Bible."
"Oh." She found where she had left her sewing, on the bench near the front door.

"How long do you mean to be sewing that?"
"What do you mean?"
"When do you mean to come to bed?"

Maria said nothing for a moment.

Suddenly Zachary couldn't bear it any longer.
"Why, Maria? What keeps you from it? It's not your sewing, is it? When are you coming to bed?"

Maria had an odd expression on. Zachary wished he understood expressions better. He did not know what she was thinking.
"Later," she said quietly. "Late."

Zachary did not know what to do. "Maria," he dared to say at last. "I've done my duties, kept my promises. You have your home, don't you? Our child? I even let your aunt live here. I've done a husband's duty. But you are--cold towards me, as if I were a stranger. It's--ungrateful of you!"

Maria was trembling. Zachary had no idea what to do.
She stood up. "Let's go to bed, dear."

"I am not seeking a--a--a faster way to fall asleep, Maria. I am seeking my wife. What about your duties? What about comforting and honoring and cherishing me? What about--loving me? You promised to love, didn't you? Or have you forgotten your wedding vows entirely?"
Maria was crying now. She went to stand in front of the fire, her tears glinting in the flickering light.

Zachary felt guilty and indignant at the same time. He still could not imagine what he ought to do. He realized that Maria was the one person who he never quite felt comfortable giving a sermon to.

The fire crackled on stoically. Maria suddenly turned back towards him. She had pulled her hair out.
"I think I'll go to bed now."

"Maria!"

She walked towards the doorway. Just when he was sure she really meant to leave, she turned around.
"I'm sorry!" she choked.

She left the room. Zachary was quite alone again. But now he realized he had been alone all along.

Elinor's Unhappiness

2006-12-06T07:43:00.000-05:00

"Did you visit the Earl already?" asked Frederick.

"Yes, of course. Just a short visit. We saw him only last week, after all."
"And how did you find him?"
"Well, of course. Why should he he be otherwise?"

An uneasy silence hung in the room. Across it, Mrs. Davina Farrier, nee Wells, made a face between a grimace and a smirk.
"Well, It is really very kind of you to invite my sister here while we take our little tour, Frederick," said Edward Farrier. "It wasn't neccessary."
"Don't be silly, dear," His new wife called from across the room. "Elinor will enjoy herself immensely in this quaint little house while we are gone. I'm sure you won't mind missing the lakes when you've got all of Cennanceaster to explore..."

She laughed at her little joke.
Sir Arnold didn't seem to find it funny. "We'll be glad of her company, Mrs. Farrier," He assured her firmly.
"She'll be glad of yours as well, I'm sure," she said. "Maybe you'll find a husband for her. You could hardly do her a greater favor. There must be some in this tiny town..."

"Why must you keep speaking of that?" demanded Elinor. "I assure you, it is not on my mind..."

At this moment the approach of the lady of the household was heard. Davina turned away, her wit dampened by Sir Arnold's silent condemnation, which still flowed from his corner of the room.

"Is everything all right, Mrs. Farrier?" Henrietta asked.
"Oh, yes. We were just proposing you find a husband for my sister Elinor while she is here."

"A lovely idea!" agreed Henrietta. "I assure you, Mrs. Farrier, despite you own experiences, it is not unusual to find one's husband in Cennanceaster."

Sir Arnold beamed aproval at his wife from across the room. Henrietta gave him a slight smile and then invited Miss. Farrier upstairs to see where she would stay.
"I apologize for the lack of decoration, Miss Farrier," she said. "I only just put up the drapes. I really was quite lazy about it..."

But Elinor did not look like she was thinking about the curtains. She sat down on the bed and stared at the undecorated walls.

"Are you all right, Miss. Farrier?"
"Elinor, please."
"Elinor, please...?"

"I hate her! She has done nothing but torment me since she appeared in Bath! She is the worst thing that ever happened to me!"

"It must be difficult to have her join your family," agreed Henrietta. She always tried to see the best in people, but it had taken her a remarkably short period of time to find that unsatisfactory in Davina's case. The best of Davina was terrible.
"No!" cried Elinor.

"It isn't just her being the lady of the house after I had been for so long, or the fact that my brother doesn't care a whit about me anymore. It isn't even how cruel she is to me. It's that she's right. I'm thirty-seven, and plain, and I should have put on my cap long ago. I suppose it was simply hard for me to face. But now I never will, not when she's around. I won't give her that satisfaction."

Henrietta wished she could say that she understood, but she found upon examination that even the worst thing that had happened to her, with Frederick behind her, was not nearly so terrible.

At last she said, "No, you musn't give her that satisfaction. You musn't even think of such a thing. Besides, look at her. She is just married, and she is fourty-one."

"But it's her second marriage, and her first was at twenty-two, I think," said Elinor sadly. "And besides, the truth is she doesn't care a whit about my brother."

Edward's Letter

2006-11-28T07:45:00.000-05:00

Drake smiled to find his lord working in the study again. It was another step, Drake thought. The Earl had stopped pacing around at night, too--at least most nights. And he had spent more time with his son, making the nurse breech him so he could be "a little man". Working in his study, which he had done when the Countess was alive, was just another step.
"The post, sir. A letter from a Mr. Farrier in Bath."

"Edward? What does he want? I thought they only planned to be in Bath a week."

"I don't know, my lord." Drake went over to the bookshelf and swiped it for dust. Behind him he could hear the Earl searching for the letter opener, then finding it, and the the slicing of the paper. The Earl was unfolding the paper now, and from the sound of it he was tapping the letter opener on the desk, which was bad for the wood...
Suddenly the tapping stopped.
"My lord?"

"Good God."
There was a definitive silence which Drake seriously hoped could be acounted for solely by one of the Earl's excessive bouts of melodrama. He rather felt he shouldn't ask, however.
"Poor Edward..."
"Is the Gentlemen alright?"
"He's--engaged."
"You don't seem pleased."
"Only worried, Drake. He's engaged to Davina."

"Mrs. Wells?"
"Precisely. It appears they met in Bath."
"She's a bit old for marriage, wouldn't you say, my lord?"
"41. Two years younger than him. But they're both old. I--I suppose he'll lend her his purse, and she'll leave him to his books, and it will be a marriage of the utmost convenience."
"Surely it could be something more..."
"You have not seen the lady, Drake. She's formidable. Edward was probably just crushed by the weight of her presence and proposed as a defence mechanism..."
Drake realized the Earl had indeed gone off on a fit of melodrama after all, and turned to see if the books themselves needed dusting.

"They've invited me to their wedding in the spring. In London. Imagine it!--with Davina's taste it will be an atrocity, no doubt."
Drake wondered if the Earl would really go. "What will you do, my lord?"

"Do? I'll dance at their wedding!Press my best cravat!"

The Churching

2006-11-24T12:28:00.000-05:00

Grace had long ago learned how to wake up without moving and without opening her eyes. She would pretend to be asleep and cherish a few precious moments in bed, warm and alone. Harold had woken up an hour or two ago, probably. His side of the bed was alredy cold.
She cherished these last few moments in particular, however, for she knew that today was the last day for a while that she could wake up so late. After her churching she would be expected to get up as early as before.
After a moment she decided to make the best of her churching, too. She would cherish every moment. Then, sleepy-eyed and reluctant, she rolled up and opened her eyes.

She joined her husband and son at the breakfast table. It was very quiet, as usual. Then suddenly Harry asked, "Did mama have another baby?"

"Another?" asked Grace, bewildered. "Isn't Percival enough babies for a few months?"

"Yes," her son admitted readily. I was just wondering why we're going to church today. We went to church when Percy was born, see..."
"You and I did, and Britany, but your mother didn't. Don't you remember?" His father said. "So your mother goes now."
"Why?" Harry inquired.
His father nodded sagely. "Because that's what Father Bede and the Bible tell her to do."

Grace said nothing, but she thought, No, Because I want to! And God...
And standing in Front of Father Zachary an hour later, she still could not help but feel that it was her ritual. Her chuching. All her women freinds were there, from Maria Bede to Lady Arnold, and though her husband and Father Bede were there, she thought perhaps they didn't really understand what they were there for.

"O almighty God, which hast delivered this woman thy servant from the great pain and peril of childbirth: Grant, we beseech thee (most merciful father), that she through thy help... "
What did they know about the pain of childbirth? she thought. It was an evil, bitter thought, she knew, and at first she tried to bury it, but at last she just kept it contained in her slight smile.

"Amen."
She smiled and turned to take from Maria's hands the little lacy cap that Percival had first worn. It was then, as she placed it on the alter, that she was truly thankful--so many women offered up caps of babies that had never opened their eyes to wear them.
Then it was over, and she went to greet the many women who had not seen her for months before her confinement.
"It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Pershing," Lady Arnold offered.

"And you." said Grace. There was a silence and then Lady Arnold said, "He's a beautiful baby."
"Thank you."
"I've never seen a boy who looked more like his father at 40 days old."

"They all do," sighed Grace. "My son asked me how come my belly grows so huge if the babies come out looking like Father." They both giggled a little at that.

Grace realized Harry was asking a lot of questions about babies lately, and perhaps her husband had better give him a little lecture soon.
At present, her husband was up near the alter talking to Father Bede.
"I've unwrapped this little man so you might give him and extra blessing, Father."

Her husband always argued about this with Father Zachary when one of his children was churched. Father Zachary said baptism was enough for any child and an extra splash of holy water was a supstitious vanity. But Harold was quite persistant about the blessing, which was a family ritual, and so Father Zachary always gave in, though never before a stern lecture on the evils of superfluous ritual. This time, though, before he could begin his lecture, Maria Bede came over and took young Percival.
"Come, dear. I'll hold this little plumcake for you. There's no harm in a little extra blessing."
And with a quick wink at Grace, she lead her husband, now smiling at his wife's sudden and rare affection, over to the baptismal font.

Ununderstood Smiles

2006-11-20T07:51:00.000-05:00

That Wednesday, a chilly one in late October, Maria managed to slip out of the house in time to meet James Menzies after his class ended. She did her best to come at least twice a month, but it was hard, especialy with her Aunt in their house now. That day both her aunt and her son took a nap after luncheon, and so she had managed it.
"Another piece in E minor?"

"I know, I'm too fond of the key..."

He laughed. "I'll take a look. Here's the one you gave me last week."
"What did you think about it?"
"I think it needs a third verse that's slower."

"Why?"
He frowned a little, thinking of how to explain. He was always joking that teaching her made him realize how much he had forgotten since he left school. After a moment he said, "To make it beautiful. It's the little unexpected things that make the song beautiful. That's what makes life beautiful, right?" He said it a little sheepishly, and that made her sheepish, too.

She looked down at his fingers and smiled uncertainly. He had such long fingers, she thought. With such wide, honest nails. They made her feel like tucking her own hands in her pockets. But they also made her feel like smiling at him.
"Don't get me wrong," he said after a moment. "The last few ones have been quite good. The version of Psalm 47, for instance, I think you could publish--if you sent it to London."

"No!" she cried.
He seemed surprised. "Why not?"
Didn't he understand? She had grown spoiled, really, for no one had understood before him.
"It's just--for me only." That sounded selfish. "And you--I mean, and the people during services. But they don't know it's for them."

"Oh." said James carefully after a moment. He seemed to understand more than she had thought. "Right. Let me show you where you could put a third verse. I think you need a silent measure first, or the counting won't work..."
Maria followed him to the table and watched him trace his long fingers over her scratchy handwriting as he talked.

He was so earnest about her little flimsy songs! It made her smile to herself just thinking about it. Even though he didn't understand what they were to her, he still made her smile all the same.

A Storm Breaks Out

2006-11-17T07:43:00.000-05:00

Frederick was delighted with the invitation to Hartfestol, for the hunting there was far superior there to his own, and moreover he thought that perhaps Henrietta would find some company and cheer up. Much to his delight, he was right on both accounts, and he soon found himself able to enjoy himself immensely without a worry at all.
About a month into their stay, they woke up to the sound of rain on the outside gutters. Frederick was sure it would cease before noon and they could go fishing, but the rain began to pound harder as they went down to breakfast, and at last he forced to admit there seemed little chance of abatement until at least after tea.
"We won't let the rain dampen our spirits along with everything else!" cried the Earl after breakfast had concluded. "Perhaps you can think of something to do, Miss Farrier?"

Edward Farrier was a freind of the Earl's when they went to school, and Elinor was his sister. Frederick thought it was rather funny, for though Edward was the scholar in title, it was Miss Farrier who was forever rattling of facts and figures to explain the simplest occurences. Henrietta said she was a very accomplished woman, and Frederick did not deny it, but he wished that such a wealth of knowledge did not feel the need to be so charitable all the time.
Miss Farrier replied that perhaps they could spend the morning reading from her latest instuctional novel, but the Earl laughed and assured her that she had no need of such instruction, and ought not to waste it on them.
"Perhaps Lady Arnold has a suggestion," he said.
"Me? I--well, in the nursery, we would always play charades," Henrietta said.

"An excellent idea. Let us begin. Why don't we put the Arnolds on one team, and Edward and myself on another? Elinor with her immense vocabulary can supply the words."
"I'll fetch a dictionary," offered Elinor.

Frederick found himself to be not too fond of Charades, at least not when Miss Farrier managed to find words like "perspicious" to be presented. He began to wish that perhaps they had read from the novel, for at least then he could take a nap.
A ferw rounds in, the butler entered and told the the Earl in a hushed voice that a Mrs. Davina Wells had come to call.

The Earl turned quite pale and after a moment said to Drake that he was not at home for Mrs. Wells. Then he left the room.
The Farriers were arguing about whether or not suspicious rhymed with perspicious, but Henrietta noticed that the Earl was gone and sent him a look.

What? he mouthed.

She sent him another glance in the direction of the doorway and he realized she wanted him to discover the cause of the Earl's unrest. So Frederick, somewhat reluctantly, went to look for the Earl.

The Earl was in his study, looking out the window. He turned around suddenly when Frederick came in.
"Ah!"

"Sorry, my Lord, I just wondered..."
"What? Damn it, Frederick, she's just a silly old widow searching to snag a richer husband than the last. You know how such women can be."
"I do," said Frederick, who didn't.

"Very determined, though. Good lord."
"Ahm..."
"What is it? What are you trying to say!? Listen--I'm just not--not willing to do it again!"

"Do what?"
"Goddamn it, to get married! It's too much to go through all over again! Marriage never really suited me in the first place."

"Of course," said Frederick, in an attempt to be soothing.
"I'm just not--not ready! Goddamn it!"

Frederick had some idea of what to do when the Earl had tantrums such as these, although this was one of a different kind.

After a moment he came over to the Earl and said, in the most earnest voice he could find,
"You don't have to be, Alexander."

The Earl's Company

2006-11-13T08:05:00.000-05:00

"My lord Earl!" Henrietta cried. "You're back from London!"
"I thought if you had any grouse left after Frederick was done with them I might have a turn."

"Oh," she said. "I don't think they've shot very many at all. He and my brother-you haven't met my brother, have you?- they promised we'd have grouse for supper every day and yet I think we've had more vegetables than grouse all week."

"Then I'll have to show them how it's done," grinned Lord Damier. Henrietta sat down, but he decided to stay standing. It had been a long carriage ride.

She smiled at him after a moment, and then, as if she couldn't contain it any longer, she asked, "How is London?"
"The same as always, I suppose," he said carelessly.
Henrietta seemed far from satisfied with that answer, but she said nothing. Lord Damier had no notion of what to say to her, so after a moment he went to the window and peered out under the pretence of looking for Frederick.
"Thank goodness you came down! I think...I think Frederick will be glad of company besides my brother's," Henrietta confided.
"I'm not sure 'goodness' had anything to do with it," he joked. "I was avoiding a dinner engagement, you see, with a certain lady."

Henrietta seemed a little abashed and very curious at the same time.
"You didn't leave London just to avoid her!"
"She seemed to believe two dances at a ball meant a--a strong affection," he said, trying desperately to keep it a joke. I shouldn't have brought this up, he thought.
"Two dances is a lot," Henrietta murmered. She seemed not to think she ought to ask any more.

"And how have you been, Lady Arnold?" he asked after another moment.
Henrietta didn't know how to answer that truthfully, so she did not. "Just fine, thank you."
But the Earl was not fooled. Nor was he thinking about Frederick as he turned to look out the window again.
He was feeling guilty. He really had not been inclined to like Henrietta, though he knew he had no reason. She was a sweet soul and, if he understood what Frederick's last letter had implied, she had not been happy lately. He knew he should not begrudge Frederick's having a wife, and he knew he ought to be generous and understanding when Frederick spent loads of ink telling him his worries about her. Frederick would be so understanding, no doubt. But he had long ago decided Frederick was a better man than he.
Stop it, Alexander! he told himself. You will go treat this sweet young woman better now, no matter how much you ache inside!

And with that he turned around and went to sit by Henrietta. "Lady Arnold, how would you and your husband like to stay at Hartfestol for a while? I was thinking of inviting down some of my freinds from London, and we'll end the summer in good company. How would you like that?"

The look on her face was enough to tell him she would. One of his inner aches lifted a little bit.

Fashionable, Ladylike Boredom

2006-11-13T07:44:00.000-05:00

Henrietta stood by her window and looked out across the rolling green hills that met the sky with a bright blue brilliance that was almost blinding. The day was warm and bright and cheerful, and she knew Frederick was right--it was a day for being outside. But Henrietta did not feel like it. She had not really felt enthusiastic about walking--about anything--in a long while.

The problem was, she told herself as she sat on the bed, that she was bored. It was ladylike, she knew, to be bored. Her mother had told her so often. But it hardly set her in a good mood. Besides, she was something more than bored. She was lonely. Few ladies of any sort, fashionably bored or not, had as little company as she did.

It was very ironic, she realized. Last spring--when she had come out--had been the farest thing from boring. It had been exciting and new, even if it had also made her anxious and flustered sometimes. But the entire point of coming out was to find a husband, and Henrietta had. And then she had discovered that being married provided far less entertainment than searching for someone to marry.

She was just considering whether she perhaps was fashionably bored enough to try to hang the drapes in the spare room when someone knocked on the door.
It was only Jean.
"There's a visitor downstairs to see you, my lady." she said.
"A visitor?"
"Yes, a splendid gentleman."

"I'll go right down."
Strange, she thought. Who could it be?

Arthur's Annoyance

2006-11-12T15:45:00.000-05:00

Shortly before Glorious Twelfth, Henrietta's brother Arthur came to visit. It had been Frederick's idea, not Henrietta's, for Frederick got the feeling that Henrietta was somewhat homesick and lonely.

"Really, Henny, it is quite tedious here," her brother remarked after breakfast the following day. "I don't know how you stand it. I should think the only thing that should make it tolerable is hunting. For ladies it must be utterly boring."

Henrietta sighed a little and stopped arranging some flowers to press. It wasn't that she didn't agree. It was just that Arthur, her youngest brother, 2 years older than her, had not only a trying habit of calling her Henny but a most annoying habit of bringing up exactly what was bothering her."You ought to enjoy the quiet leisure of it as much as possible," Henrietta said. Surely that would annoy her brother right back.

"It's quite relaxing." She blushed a little at her lie, for she hardly appreciated the quietness.

"I can't understand how such quietness could be anything but dull," scoffed her brother.

"You must miss the society of others."

"That I do, a little," admitted Henrietta with an inward sigh.

"Then why didn't you come up for the season?"

"I was expecting to be confined" did not seem like something she wished to tell her brother, and so Henrietta was silent.

After a moment, Frederick asked her brother if he should like a game of chess, and Henrietta excused herself. She went to the front hall to fetch her bonnet- she would go see to her garden, she told herself. She could feel tears pricking the backs of her eyelids.

Maria's Favor

2006-11-12T10:31:00.000-05:00

It was a beautiful April day, and after Maria finnaly got Matthew to go down for his nap she took a short walk. Just as Maria was passing by the church, she heard faint noises from somewhere within it. She couldn't imagine what they could be, but after a moment she decided to go in.

She entered as quietly as possible, for though she couldn't imagine that they could be anyone dangerous, she didn't feel like risking the impossible.

But all she found herself confronting were three very dangerous ruffians and someone she had been meaning to speak to for a while.

"Mrs. Bede! I beg pardon. Say hello, boys."

The three boys muttered something and shifted their feet. Maria realized she had forgotten the grammar school held it's music classes in the chapel.
"I'm sorry to interupt," she said after a brief moment. Then she said, carefully, "But since I found you here, Mr. Menzies, perhaps I might speak with you after your lesson ends?"
"It has just about ended now," he said, and this was all the three boys needed to fairly fly toward the door.

He looked at her somewhat expectantly, and Maria wondered how she might begin. After a moment she said,"Perhaps I might show you something?" She turned and went through the little side door that led to the upstairs gallery.

When she had reached the upstairs balcony, she went to the little stand to retrieve her papers.

"I thought you had dissapeared!" Mr. Menzies cried from below.

She laughed. "Not at all. I'll be right down."
"I suppose," she said once she had returned, "that you do this often yourself, and so I think you might understand. When I find a piece I really like,--a piece of music--I-I play with it, move it around a little."

She looked at him for some kind of recognition, but he only seemed surprised.

"I've been doing this for a while, Mr. Menzies," she said more quietly. "I-I just wanted to show them to someone. Perhaps you could, just..." She handed them to him, for she had nothing more to say.
For a moment the whole chapel hung in perfect silence as his eyes scanned the page. She wished she could read his expression.

"You did these yourself?" he asked suddenly.
"Well, I hardly have anyone to help me," she laughed nervously. "Some of them don't work--they sound wrong. I wondered if you knew why."
"Truly extrordinary, Mrs. Bede," he said.
"Are they so bad?" she said with something of a sinking feeling.

"I'm sure they're not-I'll have to play them. I just-" Maria didn't understand this, but James Menzies recognized in her a young student at Edinburg University who had suddenly discovered that banking was not his true passion after all.
"Would you? Just look at them?"

"Surely."
"My thanks. I-I must go. Zachary will be quite peeved if Matthew wakes up before I get home. Don't bother yourself about them if it's any trouble."
"None at all," he said, as he heard her leaving the church.

The Summons

2006-11-08T17:14:00.000-05:00

Maria Bede, nee Wilcox, often made a study of the parishioners during her husband's sermons. This sermon, a smaller, simpler one in the middle of Holy Week, was no different. She sat in the front pew and tried to guess what each person was thinking. It was rarely about heaven or hell, nor was it likely to be about the Bible.
She could usually imagine Grace's thoughts, which so often had to do with the doctor. She was similarly certain that the doctor's thoughts were on his fees, which he was ever intent upon raising. The Earl's pew was empty, for he had gone up to London shortly after Palm Sunday, and Maria sincerely doubted he had given anything up for Lent.
The remaining pew of the first four (these Maria could see if she bent her head and turned her eyes a little) was her Aunt's old pew; now it was shared with Sir and Lady Arnold, for her Aunt had no children, and had agreed they might have it after her.

Maria was never quite certain about the Arnolds. Sir Arnold always seemed intent upon the words of the Vicar, although he never seemed to change his expression, and so Maria thought that though he might be an extremely agreable man, he was clearly not a deep thinker. But his wife, sitting quitely next to him, was more of a mystery. She had always seemed quiet and pleasant, and perhaps a little more sensible of Zachary's sermon. But the past two weeks she had come to church not only quiet but somewhat subdued, had declined to come to Grace's house afterwards, and had--quietly--answered that her health was fine, thank you, to Doctor Pershing's inquiries. Now she seemed intent on her prayers, and oblivious to Zachary's speech.

The sermon ended, and Maria rose to play the final hymn. A last hymn was a tradition among their congregation, and it one of Maria's favorite duties to pick choose one each week-the less common, the better. Surely God was bored by the same fare each week, she reasoned. She certainly tired of it.

Will you come and follow me, If I but call your name?
Will you go where you don’t know, And never be the same?
Will you let my love be shown, Will you let my name be known.
Will you let my life be grown, In you and you in me?
The song was perhaps a little difficult, she thought, for though she had sung the first verse for them, the congregation stumbled from then on, except for one steady baritone somewhere behind her and to her left. Still, by the time they reached the final line, everyone was together.
...Thus I’ll move and live and grow, In you and you in me.

Maria was shutting the lid of the organ when quite suddenly James Menzies, the musicmaster of the parish school, aproached her.
"I simply wanted to ask you, Mrs. Pershing, how you know "The Summons"...?"

"I'm sorry?"
"The song you just played. It's one of my favorite Hymns--a Scottish one. But I have never heard it anywhere but my home town. Not even in Edinburgh when I went to study."
"Oh--I, I've always been fond of music, and my freinds often bring me new songs when they find some. This one's from a book my uncle game me once..."
"I'm quite impressed," he said, and he evidently was.

Suddenly, Maria was struck by an idea. She debated it for only a split second, but during this time she smiled and so he smiled back and turned away.

Before Maria could quite muster the courage to ask him what she wished to, he had left her, somewhat warmer, standing alone again at the back of the church.

Winter's Longings

2006-11-05T22:39:00.000-05:00

That first winter in Cennanceaster seemed endlessly long. Henrietta soon found that it was quite possible to go visiting and come back lonelier than ever. The women were kind, of course, but they also thought of her as Lady Arnold, and in some way that made them even more distant than strangers. Frederick was no help, either, for he did not have the same problem. He and the Earl went out almost every day, either riding or visiting the tenants, and while they were together, neither was lonely.
At least that was how Henrietta saw it. The Earl was, in fact, quite lonely, although Frederick's company made him less lonely than he had been in a long while. He had always thought of himself as a playful bachelor, and when the first had been proved wrong he had worked even harder to make certain the second never would. In truth, he did not have to worry: his was not a mournful nature. He still felt a painful crack in his heart when he went into the now abandoned master bedroom to get some piece of clothing or other, but he could not mend that crack through thinking about it. He was dying to return to a a more social lifestyle that might, at least, dull the pain.
Frederick was not lonely at all, that was no part of his gentle nature. But something troubled him as well: the news from overseas. Every new piece threatened of war, and Frederick was torn between worry that one would come and an eagerness to be a soldier again, something he had missed dreadfully since he entered society 18 years ago. Society might be what his wife and freind were craving, but he was far happier with a plan of action and a life of discipline.

Sir Frederick's Collection

2006-11-05T12:37:00.000-05:00

"How do you like Cennanceaster, Lady Arnold?" asked Mrs. Pershing.

"Well, I must say it's very--quiet here," said Henrietta. "You're the second soul that's come to call on me and I've been here more than a fortnight."

"Certainly Cennanceaster is quieter than London," said Mrs. Pershing. "But you'll find we have our own little circle here. Maria and I--do you know Maria Bede? She is the Vicar's wife--and surely if you haven't met her you've seen her in church--as I was saying, Maria and I and some of the other women all visit each other after church on Sunday. You must just come with me this Sunday and meet them."
Something inside Henrietta was very glad of the invitation, and that part of her assured Mrs. Pershing that she should love to, but another part of her stomach twisted at the thought of meeting a roomful of women who all knew each other and who would all wish to know her as Lady Arnold.

"You see," she said after a moment, "of course Cennanceaster is smaller than London-what town isn't?"

"--but I really only was in London for one season. I met Frederick almost as soon as I arrived, and by the flower show we were engaged. Cenanceaster is even smaller than the town I grew up in. Fiskport--that's near Brighton. I suppose it is a bigger town because of the port. Anyhow, even compared to that town Cennanceaster is small."
Mrs. Pershing was still wondering what she meant by the flower show, but before she could think of a way to ask without feeling stupid, Lady Arnold turned toward the doorway and said, "Oh! Frederick!"

Sir Arold was standing in the doorway with a cup of tea, smiling.
"Did you expect someone else?" He asked.
"I thought you were only Jean," confessed Henrietta.
"No, my Lady, but if you want I'll bring in your tea for you..."

He was standing across the table from Mrs. Pershing now, and so Henrietta rushed to introduce them. Mrs. Pershing made her courtsey and was told again that he had met her husband just earlier that day. Then Lord Arnold set his teacup down on the wood table, which elicited a frown from his wife, and sat down.
"Are there any other Pershings I ought to meet today, Mrs. Pershing?" Sir Frederick asked. "I am colecting my aquantances by family, you see."

"Well, there's Harry, who's 4, and Brittany, who's 2, and Jemmy--Jeremy, who was born in September... " she said. "But I think perhaps they are somewhat young to be your aquaintances."

"I'll throw them back and wait for them to grow a little," said Sir Frederick.
"Oh, dear," said Henrietta."Then poor Mrs. Pershing is caught for good!"

"But as our freind, I hope," prompted her husband.
"Of course!" Mrs. Pershing replied.

Grace's Victory

2006-11-04T12:43:00.000-05:00

"This word has 2 H's." Harry told his mother. "I think it says Harold."

"Harold only has one H, dear. What other letters does it have?"
"Uh...what's this one, again?"
At that moment Doctor Pershing came through the front door. "Why don't you ask your father, dear?" said Mrs. Pershing said as she turned towards her husband.

"Papa, what's this letter?"
"Father, what's this letter."
"Father..."
"It's an M."
"Oh." His son went back and sat down on the other side of the sofa, not particularly satisfied.
"Grace, I just met Sir Arnold," said Doctor Pershing.
"Really?"
"He's pretty young," scoffed her husband. "...going about town as if none of us knew who he was..."
Grace nodded and smiled. That was all one ever had to do for Harold.

As her husband critiqued the new landholder, Grace looked at their son. He's not five yet, she thought. Young enough to call his father Papa! I still call my father Papa and he's been dead ten years...

Suddenly Harold was saying, "He and his wife, keeping house at the Wilcox's old place...you ought to go call on her one day and you can tell me what they've done to it."

Grace had a sudden, brilliant idea.
"Perhaps..." said Grace very carefully, "Perhaps I might go right now? Jemmy is down for his nap, and Mina can watch Brit and Harry..."
Harold frowned. "I suppose you could-but be sure Mina has dinner ready when I come home at eight."
"Of course," Grace murmered quietly and she went to pick up little Brittany. She she felt a rising feeling of guilty victory. She could be out of the house in moments, if she hurried!

Help!

2006-11-03T16:29:00.000-05:00

Aerg! I've been having terrible trouble with blogger lately. They're down all the time and they won't let me upload pictures half the time--even with photobucket. Does anyone know of a better free site?

Sir Frederick's Tradition

2006-10-29T16:25:00.000-05:00

Wearing her wedding pearls and the necklace Frederick had given her for Christmas, Henrietta felt sufficiently elegant, even though she had worn the same dress to Hartfestol before.

"Are you coming, my dear? I'm sure you look wonderful..."
"Yes, of course, I only had to put on my earings..."

Henrietta put down her mirror and left her new bedroom. She was really quite fond of her new house. Ever since she had been old enough to know she would get married one day she had dreamed of putting together a house, of having one of her own, but somehow she had not realized how nice it would really be until Frederick had showed her the front hall and asked her what she thought.

Now he was standing in that same hall, and the carriage--their own carriage! was waiting to take them to Hartfestol for a New Year's Eve dinner. Henrietta suddenly felt even older and grander than her 18 years.
But the dinner conversation made her feel remarkably stupid again.

Her husband and the Earl seemed to have arsenal of old stories and jokes to go through, and though they often smiled brightly at her with the punchlines, she felt rather left out. It wasn't very considerate of Frederick to be doing this, she thought.
"My Lord, I think you should tell Henrietta who Mrs. Wilcox is,"Frederick said at last. Finnally he had noticed her imploring looks, if not her foot under the table.

"Oh, Mrs. Wilcox is the woman who used to live in your house. When I told her a new couple was moving in, she--(he gave Frederick a quick glance here)--all she wanted to know was whether you would be spending your wedding night there."
Henrietta was a bit taken aback by this.

Frederick just sent her a look that said "I'm sorry-but isn't it funny?"
Henrietta was suddenly sorry to be the only woman of the party. When Drake came in with the after-dinners, she withdrew to the parlour by herself.

Later, when they were in the coach, Henrietta was rather quiet. She wondered how long it would take Frederick to notice-she dared him to notice.
But Frederick always caught on eventually, and so just as they left the grounds of Hartfestol, Frederick asked her-gently-if anything was wrong.

"Oh, no! I'm quite fine."
"What's bothering you, Henrietta?"
"Nothing! I'm sure you and his lordship had a good time, so that's all that matters."

Frederick sighed gently. "You matter, Henrietta. I'm sorry about the Earl. He isn't used to having women around-he hasn't had anyone visit him since his wife's funeral, and that was 10 months ago."
"No one visit him? Why not?" And he is so outgoing around us! she thought.

"I don't really know. I-I suppose this is obvious, but he's in mourning, and I think moreover that her death was quite a blow, more even than most wive's deaths are."
"Then surely he ought to treat women better, in her honor," said Henrietta.
"Oh Henrietta," her husband said and drew her to him. "I don't think it works that way."

After a few moment of silence, Frederick brought out his pocketwatch. "It's a new year," he said. "Eighteen hundred A.D." After a moment he grinned devilishly and looked at her. "You and I seem to have forgotten a tradition."
"What tradition?" asked Henrietta.

Lord Charles' New Freind

2006-10-27T23:11:00.000-04:00

"What a grand house!" Henrietta exclaimed.
"Hartfestol is a lovely place." Sir Fredrick agreed as they were led into the sitting room. "But Henrietta," he said, making sure Drake had already left the room to go get the Earl. "Don't make any of your usual comments about how well the draperies looks, or any such thing."
"Why not?" asked Henrietta.

"Well, I don't think the decorations are the Earl's doing so much as they were his wife's, darling."
"Oh--I wouldn't say such a thing anyway!"
"No, of course not--good morning, Damier!" He exclaimed. It was the closest he could get to not calling Lord Damier "my Lord."

"Henrietta, may I present the Earl of Cennanchester?"

Henritta realized that she ought to get up and courtsey, but somehow the Earl was in front of her even before she could begin to stand.

"And what exactly is a man like you doing with a fine lady like this, Frederick?" asked the Earl.
"I've asked myself the same question several times." her husband murmered.
The Earl laughed and sat down. "Pleased to make your aquaintance, Lady Arnold."
Lady Arnold, who was startled to find herself adressed by that title, could only keep smiling.
She was not quite used to talking to Earls. Her father was a gentleman, but a humble one from the coast. She didn't know it, but that was what had attracted Frederick to her in the first place, for Frederick was himself was a modest person from a relatively humble background.
Suddenly the Earl was talking to her again.
"I think I hear a little vandal coming our way," he was saying. "Lady Arnold, I was thinking that being new to Cennanceaster, you might be in need of a freind, so I brought one for you. Nurse Thale!" He called out into the front hall. "Would you bring in Lord Charles? He has a visitor."
And then a nurse came in carrying what could only be The Earl's son. Henrietta had forgotten he had one by his late wife, but in fact now she remembered Frederick had mentioned it when he had told her about their new home.

"Allow me to introduce my son, Lady Arnold." said the Earl. "And now, if you would excuse your us for a moment. your husband and I must go sign a deed. Perhaps Charles can keep you company?"
"Oh, I'm sure I could find no better!" said Henrietta.

In fact, Henrietta was the youngest in her family, younger than four brothers, and she was not used to conversing with small children.

But Lord Charles, who had already escaped his nurse's arms, was not feeling shy at all. After he was detained from investigating the pianoforte, he toddled back to her and gave her a shy grin before crying, "Heh-lo!"

Sir Fredrick's Question

2006-10-25T08:00:00.000-04:00

Sir Fredrick was peering curiouly at some of the oldest books in the library when Lord Damier came in.

"Fredrick!"
"My Lord!"
"Leave the 'my Lord'ing to Drake. And don't even start with the Earl buisness..."
"I'm so sorry about the hour. It rained last night and the roads were muddy, so..."
"Never mind! are you hungry? Let me call Suzanna..."

Sir Fredrick mumbled something about an inn and a dinner, so instead Lord Damier said,"How is London? Still full of mamas hungry to make a Lady Arnold out of their daughters?"
Sir Fredrick laughed. "They have little chance of that now!"

"I'm engaged, my Lord. I'm on my way to my wedding..."
Lord Damien was quite surprised. He had somehow always imagined Fredrick as a bachelor. Of course, he had always imagined himself as a bachelor, until he met Evangeline.

"Congratulations!" he declared after a moment. "No wonder you're so well dressed! Or perhaps the London lifestyle is wearing off on you?"
"Just because the clothes you first saw me in were my tattered uniform doesn't mean I haven't aquired any fashion sense since then, my Lord. "
"Of course..." Good heavens, a married man!
They were old freinds. Lord Damier was likely to call anyone he met three times his freind, but he and Fredrick really were freinds, despite their differences. They had met in London, 17 years ago. Fredrick was newly knighted then, the son of a sea captain who had joined the navy in search of excitement at sixteen. He'd come back at eighteen in the "tattered uniform" and was promptly knighted for being one of the few capable men fighting in that disastrous war. Lord Alexander Damier was young, bored, and in search of the most exciting people as his freinds. Spruced up, Sir Fredrick Arnold the war hero certainly qualified. They saw each other whenever they were both in London for many years, until Alexander went to France and came back with The Countess Evangeline in tow. He hadn't been to London since then.
"My Lord..."
"Alexander."
"Could I beg a great favor of you?"

"Anything."
"I--thing is--her parents have a house in mind for us, and it's no strain on the purse, but I kind of would like--"
"To escape her parents? I can't blame you." So that was what Fredrick wanted. He had half expected it after he said he was engaged. "I have some untilled land and some lazy farmers, yes. Would you like being a gentleman farmer?"
"If it meant my own house with Henrietta and your Lordships' company, I would."
"Kind of you to flatter me. Then it's agreed. Shall we drink to the bargain?"
"It's rather late..."
"I suppose so. We would never have said that all those years ago, would we?"
"Oh no. It was never too late to drink then!"

The Earl's Midnight Visitor

2006-10-24T16:01:00.000-04:00

The Earl of Cennanceaster, who was usually refered to as Lord Damien because he still thought of his father as the Earl, paced the corridor above the Great Hall and listened to the slow thunk, thunk of the grandfather clock somewhere below his feet. It was nearly midnight, a familiar time to him.

He had not slept properly for nine months now, not since he had slept in the double bed in the master bedroom. But tonight, for once, he could justify being up late.
"My Lord, if you wish to rest I will wake you as soon as he arrives," Drake called up to him.

"That's quite all right," Lord Damien assured him. But his butler's eyes followed him along the path somewhat anxiously and so he said, "I'll just go finish some letters."
Letters were often what kept him up this late. He found that around this time he was just blurry-headed enough to read the letters, most from tennants, and piece together some kind of response which usually added up to "Figure it out for yourselves." He flipped through through the stash, looking for a thin letter to start with.

None of them were particularly thin, but some of them had been on his desk awhile. After a moment, he resigned himself to a rather grubby-looking one he had got a week or two ago and was cutting it open when Drake opened the door behind him.

"My Lord, there a better lamp in your study for night reading..."
"It's a mess in there."
"I'll clean it out for you, my Lord. But Sir Fredrick is here."
"What?!"
"In the library."
Lord Damien tossed the letter opener onto the tale with a satisfying twang and turned towards the door. "And you bother me about the light!"

Cennanceaster

2006-10-08T13:28:00.000-04:00

The year was 1799: England was at peace, at least officially, as across the channel France underwent the last hiccups of a revolution and Napoleon began to pursue power.

Back in England, life in the small of Cennanceaster continued. The town and it's parish had a population of only about two hundred, most of them still tennant farmers under the the current Lord Damien. It was a great source of pride to the villiage people that the ancestral home of the Lords Damier lay just outside their villiage. Out of pride more than anything else, the people did not resent their Lord as much as they might otherwise, and indeed some pitied the man for the recent loss of his wife.

Lord Damier himself wanted little to do with the villiage life, or rather any life, at the present time, though he secretly found great pleasure in watching the people from his carrige when he goes to town each week.

2006-10-04T19:23:00.000-04:00

This is the first test post. Welcome to the soon to the expanding worlds I am creating.
-Sydonie