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Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.- Lord Byron She looked in his eyes as they stood there, poised to begin. All attention on them, but she could see the silhouettes and faces and figures of the guests all around, the lights reflecting from their fluted glasses, or off of jewelry here and there.
The string quartet slid into sound and he began moving her across the dance floor in a slow waltz. One lone figure broke away from the crowd, a young boy, probably not allowed to be there. It took three slow rotations around the dance floors circumference before the other guests joined in and the intense attention was taken from them.
She glanced around as he continued to spin her around the floor. The pressure of his palm on her spine, his squeeze on her hand pulling her attention to look directly up at him, a secret smile shared between them. She couldn't even imagine how things had actually turned out as well as they did...
Many months before...
Emily sighed as she looked at her reflection in the polished glass of the vanity, studying her own sea washed blue eyes for a moment before looking at the mess that was her hair. No matter what she'd done she couldn't get her hair to behave today and she really did want it to. She pursed her lips and tired one final time to try and get the pieces of strawberry blond hair to do as she wanted. The pins improved the wild nature of her curls, still unsatisfied she stood up anyway.
She walked over to her window that overlooked the drive and she couldn't stop herself from looking down the lane for the hundredth time in the last hour. She twisted a kerchief and forced herself to walk away and out of her room.
She wandered the halls for a moment before deciding to go down to the garden... or maybe the study first to pick up a book. She needed to settle her mind, or at least try. She was determined to be the good daughter, but the waiting was about to drive her mad.
Her father was due back sometime today and she knew he would bring news that would change her life one way or another. He'd been at court for the last fortnight. She knew that while much of what he was doing was business and consulting, he'd also decided it was high time she was courted and wed.
Emily let her fingers trail along the spines of the books distractedly and grabbed one at random before going outside. The dew was still melting away from the foggy morning they'd had, despite the early afternoon hour. She bit her lip debating on where to deposit herself as she looked at the grounds and where would be the driest.
She wasn't a snob when it came to her fashion or her clothes like some of her friends or cousins of similar station, but she was practical and didn't want to worry about mud or water speckling or ruining the dress, even if it was a simple day dress and nothing particularly fine. She'd learned prudence and thrift at a young age from her mother. "Anyone can find themselves in dire straights Emiline," her mother would always say.
She sighed and walked to the most likely dry place- a wooden gazebo of sorts with several chairs and benches. She deposited herself on one of them and flipped open the book. "Latin!" She exclaimed to herself and sighed shaking her head at her earlier distraction in picking a book. It had been awhile since she'd applied herself to the challenge, not that she broadcast how educated she was, it only made her more odd to the gentry. Girls simply didn't spend their time on books and math and learning. Neither did noblemen often do things in the way her father did. She forced her eyes to the page.
Becoming so engrossed in the book and the translation of the subject matter, she didn't hear her father's arrival and was startled by the tap on her nose as he chuckled, "At least I find you studying and not fretting over things."
Emily snapped the book shut and threw her arms around her father hugging him. "Why should I fret father? You are home safe at last!"
He laughed again and pulled back to look at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "I'd think the matter of your possible betrothal might rouse a little something. I believe I've found the perfect match!"
Emily tried not to let her smile waver or her resolve to melt.
"Emiline, I do believe this is the first time in you're life I can recall you being speechless," came her mother's cool voice as she came swishing up, holding her skirts away from all of the foliage. Vivian Percy was anything but impractical, except when it came to the garden, which she loved, unless she was in one of her nicer dresses, then her beloved plants were her bitter enemies. A bad sign for Emily.
Emily smiled at her mother, though she couldn't make it reach her eyes, as her father released her as she pulled away, "Well, I'm not sure if I should rejoice and be besotted, or disdainful and argumentative. He hasn't told me who it is he's hoping I'll wed yet."
"It does sound like your father to play games. Though I shan't. It is that Fulton boy, Marcus I believe."
Emily knew that a little of the color in her cheeks was probably draining but she couldn't help it. Marcus Fulton. She'd only ever heard rumors of course, but none of them exactly endeared him or the idea of being his wife to her. He was close to her age, and his station was comparable to her's if not slightly elevated of late as his family had started to be one of the favored of the Queen. He was, however, said to be all business and protocol and traditional, he was also rumored to have many admirers. She couldn't even draw up a full and clear picture of him in her mind. She'd met his father Sir Fulton on several occasions when he'd had dealings with her father, but his boisterous nature while dealing with her father didn't seem to fit any of the descriptions she'd ever heard of Marcus. Hopefully it was all rumor.
She took a deep breath and simply nodded and looked at her father, "It's a very prosperous match Father, it should help your business ventures greatly."
"Emiline! What a way to talk. You act as if you're father is trading you away as some form of property! We have your best interest in mind and the Fulton family can provide you a very comfortable living. Apologize at once." her mother was scolding and reproachful. Emily wished there was a way to escape and talk to her father privately, or that Gideon was home already. It did feel a little like she was being traded like some sort of commodity, but it wasn't as if she really had a say in the matter.
Her father looked upset and took one of her smooth hands in both of his rough and calloused ones, worn from working alongside his hired-hands and riding his favorite horses, "I care for your happiness first Em, if you hate the idea, nothing is set in stone." Of her two parents, it was her father she more often turned to. Her mother was loving, but she couldn't be counted on for sympathy or warmth in distressful situations, she was simply too practical. Her father was the dreamer and had been the force behind making sure all of his children were educated in all things he could provide for them, his sons and daughter.
Her smile softened a little at seeing his earnestness "I'm sorry Father, truly. He is of a relatable age and station, I'm sure we'll be very happy. Though I admit I have only ever heard rumor of him and have never had the opportunity to meet him at any function in present memory."
Vivian's hands made a light slapping as she clasped them together and let them rest on the front of her dress, "Which is exactly why you'll be heading to town in a few days to spend the next season or two closer to court. I'm here to take you into Millshire to see if we can't get a few new gowns fitted for some of the more lavish parties and balls you'll be expected to attend. Last seasons dresses should do for anything else you'll be required to attend."
Emily wasn't sure the small town Millshire twenty minutes ride away would be able to provide the finery her mother would be expecting, though if her mother thought it would be there it would be. She wouldn't make the trip otherwise, which meant she'd likely already had something started and the rest of the day would be spent getting pushed and pinned and spun to make sure everything was perfect. No point fighting the inevitable.
Emily really did hate all the fuss and fan fare. She'd rather be out here in the country on their working estate than anywhere else, and she had bad memories of court from a few years prior when several girls and boys her age had teased her the entire time she was there, walking around swiping dramatically at their noses and cheeks after she was found with ink unknowingly smeared on her nose to under her eye from her studies. They'd also taken to calling and talking about her by the name of Little Line instead of Emiline. It was then she'd started to go by Emily... well with everyone except her Mother.
Now was not the time to be thinking of such things and she simply nodded at her mother, gave her father's hands a squeeze and picked up her skirts, "I'll go and get my hat and meet you in the hall then."
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Finally, the inevitable could be delayed no more. Marcus peered indignantly at his father, one eyebrow raised. “Surely I have misheard you, father. I thought you said...Emiline Percy is to be my betrothed?” Of course he had heard perfectly well the first time, but the young Fulton man wanted to allow time for the ridiculousness of the proposal sink in before telling his dear father how he really felt about it.
Lord Fulton was wise to his son’s tricks, however. “I do believe I have spoken rather clearly. Yes, miss Percy. I cannot wait to hear your objections to a perfectly fine match this time, Marcus.” The look on his father’s face was rather deadly, though thankfully his mother wasn’t in the room or else he’d have feared worse than a stern talking to.
“Well, aside from the mere fact that I do not want to wed her, there is the matter of her family’s station,” Marcus was grasping at straws to hide the fact that he actually knew very little of Emiline, aside from the minor scandal from a few years prior where she’d been spotted trotting about with ink smeared across her face. Otherwise, he knew very little about what the girl even looked like. Lord Fulton’s scowl darkened, “their station is of no concern to you, firstly; I am well aware of our finances and what exactly will be best for them. Secondly, it is a very suitable match. Might I also remind you it is now your only match, after you shot down my previous proposal to wed the Smith girl, and all the many girls before that.”
Quickly, he shot back, “The Smith girl was no better looking than either end of a breeding sow, you can’t use that against me. No one in their right mind would marry her, no matter how well off she is.”
“I beg to differ, since her engagement to Lord Crowell was just announced less than a fortnight ago.”
Marcus knew well of Gregory Crowell, a porcupine of a man who’d been stalking the court for a bride for as long as he could remember. He supposed it only made sense the rotten old codger would snag up someone as...unique looking as that Smith girl. “I digress. I will not be marrying that girl, nor any girl, and that is the end of it.” It was a last ditch effort, a final scratching claw reaching from churning water before Marcus succumbed to his father’s prodding.
“Alas, Marcus, you have been at court for far too long. Your days of gallivanting about and preening while the little ladies make eyes at you are over. Emiline Percy will be arriving to town within the week to begin her stay at court, and as much as I hate to be so frank about it- the deal is done.” Lord Fulton clapped his hands together in front of him as if slamming a large book shut, causing Marcus to flinch.
With a sigh, Marcus nodded. He was caught. “Yes, of course father. It would please me evermore to bolster your business dealings with the Percy family. I eagerly await my meeting with miss Emiline.” His tone was flat and dark, and in his anger at the injustice of it all he spoke perhaps a bit too freely. Thankfully his father seemed not to notice, instead moving to leave the small study he’d cornered his son in.
“Your mother will be so pleased to hear the good news. She was the one who brought miss Percy to my attention, of course!” Lord Fulton then flourished from the room, cheeks rosy with delight. Marcus sunk deep into a plush leather chair and glared angrily at the opposite wall lined to the ceiling with books, so that they may catch fire and give him a good escape from the situation. Alas, the books just stared back with perhaps a bit of pity, or maybe he was imagining that part.
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What we anticipate seldom occurs, what we least expected generally happens -Benjamin Disraeli
Emily looked down at her trembling hands and clenched them to get them to stop and looked up at her reflection in the standing mirror in front of her. Her mother had made sure she was dressed to perfection, every hair in place, every seem laid flat. She wasn't sure why she was so nervous about the whole situation.
The last week had rushed by faster than she expected, between dress fittings, and shoe fittings, and packing and making sure the estate would run smoothly while her parents took her and some of her siblings to town, she felt like she hadn't sat down for days. Now, here she was moments away from attending the first pre-season event, the Waldorf's garden party. If it was only that, she wouldn't be trembling. She was to officially meet Marcus Fulton and his parent's at the party.
She shifted uncomfortably under the newly boned corset, tugged at the strings at its back, and at the low square cut in the front. The next thing she knew her hands were slapped away and made sure she hadn't messed anything up. Most servants wouldn't be so bold, but Melly had been with her since adolescence and knew what her mother would say if everything didn't look perfect.
Emily sighed and tried to take a deep breath but couldn't and gave up trying. She turned to Melly who simply raised a brow at her not feeling sorry for her at all. "I suppose I'm ready for my gloves and hat then."
Melly nodded and walked over and picked them up before coming back and handing off the gloves while she stepped up on a stool and pinned the hat in place through the curls, "Bout time miss, your mother will be upset if you're late."
Emily knew she was right, but she couldn't make herself move past the snails pace she'd been taking since waking up that morning. With the memory of her mother's stern face in mind from when she'd checked on her earlier she finally made herself step down off the wood stool she'd been standing on. This was all dreadful.
With her hat pinned and gloves on she turned around in a complete circle looking around at her room as if hoping something might come to her that would keep her from the inevitable meeting. Nothing came to mind so she sighed, again, then forced herself to straighten her shoulders and lift her head. Melly handed her the lacy parasol she was supposed to balance along with a wrist pouch and fan and still be poised enough to sample food and drink offered.
It wasn't that Emily was clumsy or unrefined, her mother had seen to her training in the later and bred the former out of her over the years, she just got so nervous about remembering the social norms for girls her age.
She walked out her door and toward the stairs. She supposed she was lucky her mother had long been friends with Dame Waldorf so they were staying at the estate and she didn't have to go through the fan fair of being announced at each checkpoint from carriage to lower gardens.
She reached the top of the stairs and her older brother Alister was waiting for her, creamed colored dress coat fanning out slightly as he turned and looked at her, "Bout ruddy time Em, Mother is going to be furious if we don't get down there. I'm surprised we haven't been sent for... twice by now." He glanced her over as she came walking up. "That color suites you."
Emily glanced down at the pale blue dress as she took his arm and they started down the stairs, "Thank you. I wished it was green or lavender now that I've seen all the other girls, but Mother picked what she called 'flattering' tones for me that wouldn't clash with 'Father's coloring' in my hair." They both laughed a little at that.
Vivian was fiercely in love with Robert Percy, but the one thing she would change about him if she could was the strawberry color to his blond curls that he'd passed on to some of his six children.
"No, blue's good. You'll stand out. Then your betrothed will be able to pick you out of all the other girls if he looses track of you." There was the older brother she knew and loved. Alister was their father's heir and a bit of a wanderlust. He should have been settled or at least on the track to being settled by now, but had flatly refused all the girls his parents had presented, and told his parents when he felt it was right or he found the right girl himself he'd marry. Emily envied him, and wondered if she really could have refused, but decided probably not, since she was a daughter and couldn't rightly refuse something that would benefit her family and herself, without looking petty and selfish.
They got to the bottom of the stairs and headed toward the large back doors that lead to the lawn. Emily brought her parasol up with a shaky breath. Alister nudged her, "Don't worry Em, you'll do fine." Emily smiled a little unsure, but glad he wasn't teasing her or saying something scathing like older brothers do at times.
Two sharp taps sounded "Sir Alister and Miss Emiline Percy." Emily almost cringed, and wanted to strangle her mother, but there was no turning back now. They stepped out into the sun and headed down the walk to where her parents were standing with several other people. She let her eyes slide over the faces, but wasn't certain any were Marcus. He was described as standing a good taller than other males, much like her brother, but she still didn't know who he was or wasn't in the gathered company. It was possible he was standing behind one of his parents she supposed, she recognized his father at the least.
Alister gave her hand a squeeze with the crook of his elbow, "Loosen your grip Em, I'm loosing feeling in my fingers," he joked as he brought her along with him and she tried to stop from breathing to fast as they joined the group. Fainting in front of your future family would certainly make a bad impression.
Robert beamed and turned back to his companions, "Here she is now. Lord and Lady Fulton, Young Marcus, may I present my daughter Emiline." He gestured and Emily's eyes slid to each one as introduced and she curtsied slightly, bowing her head. Well, that was unexpected, Marcus Fulton looked rather dashing, nearly as tall as she expected, though he seemed a bit pale. Maybe she did too. "It is a pleasure." She held out a slightly trembling hand toward him at the final curtsy, something her mother had instructed her to do.
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They’d been waiting a short spell with the Percy family, and after a time Marcus began to wonder if young Emiline might have run off in the night to avoid their meeting. He pondered posing the question to his parents in secret, but knew better than to draw his mother’s ire. She was a viper of a woman, friendly with strangers and acquaintances but quick to snap at him and his siblings over the smallest insubordination. Today, however, she seemed in absolutely fine spirits. Marcus supposed he would be too if he were about to secure a prosperous partnership with another family, however unwanted it was by the parties most involved.
Finally, however, their arrival was announced. “Sir Alister and Miss Emiline Percy.” Marcus resisted the urge to sneer at how stuffy and formal it all was, lest his future bride catch the look on his face and assume his disdain was directed at her.
On the contrary, and much to his pleasant surprise, Miss Percy was striking. Not striking in the way that would give you a fright, but whomever had put together her outfit for the day had done a fine job. Every shiny strawberry hair was in place, and she looked a picture as she finished her curtsy and extended a small gloved hand to him. Despite having been at court for longer than he’d have admitted, Marcus was still not as well versed in the social cues of the events as his parents would have liked. After a short pause, Reginald Fulton sharply poked his son in the spine, jolting him back to the moment.
“Please, the pleasure is mine,” he said, as cooly as possible. A cold shock of nerves had settled in his belly now, the reality of it all settling in. This wasn’t another pretty girl he’d share a few dances with and perhaps be able to convince to sneak off for a nighttime walk, it was his future wife. His hand trembled a bit as he gently grasped hers for a single, succinct shake.
Then Marcus stepped back, hands clasped behind him politely, unsure how to continue. Thankfully, Lord Fulton was ever to the rescue just as his mother had begun to turn a fiery eye on him. “Myself and my wife are glad you could make it here on such short notice. I do hope your trip was good. Marcus has been positively giddy to finally meet young Emiline, haven’t you?” he turned and nudged his son in the gut, prompting him to nod his head.
“Certainly,” he spluttered, cheeks turning red. Lady Fulton flashed them both a murderous glance before turning back toward the Percys, a glowing smile across her thin face. “And I do hope you don’t mind my saying, Emiline, but you look just ravishing today.” Marcus rolled his eyes at his mother’s tendency to try and fix awkward situations with compliments, ignoring the fact that it had worked more often than not.
The Fultons had quickly risen in station over the years due to a windfall with Reginald Fulton’s trading business, but no matter how hard his mother had tried to have them all trained it was still quite evident that they’d begun ‘in the dirt’, as she ever so loved to say. Their manners would always be a little less polished, a little less ingrained, than that of a family such as the Percys who had had generations to tidy themselves up.
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Most women have all other women as adversaries; most men have all other men as their allies -Frank Gelett Burgess ~~~~~~~~ She gently rubbed a petal of his boutonniere between her thumb and first finger. "This was the flower in garden's that first day we met." She smiled up at him through her lashes.
She felt the gentle guiding pressure of his hand on the small of her back as he turned them from a collision course with another couple.
"I was completely surprised you didn't just walk calmly away at the end of the day and never look back! Did you ever imagine we would ever make it to today?" ~~~~~~~~
Emily was a little surprised to find Marcus give her offered hand a shake. She was prepared for a gentle squeeze and a bow of the head, but still they were on the surface very welcoming and kind.
She was a bit shocked Lady Fulton would be so kind, she smiled, giving her a thankful look for such a warm compliment, her cheeks blushing slightly. Though she'd learned long ago to temper it. She saw her own father smile at the comment and her mother's hand tighten ever so slightly on his arm quieting him. "All thanks to her mother's good looks," he and Lord Fulton were used to smoothing awkward business situations, and he was still at ease at court, despite his slightly lowered station as of late.
She glanced over at Marcus again as their Father's made small talk. She kept her ear on the conversation as they started talking about road conditions and the weather has they'd traveled. Emily noticed Marcus's Mother seemed to have seen and disapproved of some action of his, picking up on a look she was giving him. She looked away before she was caught by either mother being overly observant.
"Em has a good hand at sketching and painting, but is actually quite the translator. She speaks three languages and can read five. Been a real help when I get that nonsense from Francioa Falish since he thinks everyone speaks and reads French and always seems to slip that dribble into our exchanges."
Emily missed the moment when the conversation went from travel to her. She instantly wanted to dissolve at her Father's comments, as if she was still being presented for consideration, as if they needed to prove she was worth the marriage contract. Of course the two of them probably already had spoken about the pros and cons, so this display was probably for the mothers. She was sure these skills wouldn't impress anyone, Lady Fulton probably least of all, as she was a girl and was supposed to be spending her time on stitch work and art and looking pretty. Why couldn't he mention her skill at baking? Even that menial task was more feminine and attractive in a future wife than French! She knew her cheeks were flushing when she heard Alister stifle a laugh and cough a smirk, turning from the conversation for a moment and coughing to cover.
She was rescued though, by the tact of women who knew their husbands all to well. Her mother smiled to Lady Fulton, "Oh these men and what they find interesting," Vivian's hand tightened on her husband's arm and he cleared his throat of his own chuckle, "I simply love your gown Lady Fulton. I'll have to inquire after your dressmaker sometime. Our tailor in Millshire is skilled, but it is always nice to know someone in town. It is simply lovely."
Emily couldn't have imagined wanting to be invisible so much in her life when Alister pipped up. "As interesting as all of this is my good Lords and Lady's, might I suggest that I chaperone and we give these two a chance to talk." He glanced at Marcus, "A turn around the garden perhaps?" His brow raised in a way that said he knew all too well the reputations of his future brother-in-law. He himself had a similar reputation.
Vivian gave Alister's arm a pat, "On your duties Alister, though don't harass them as I know you would do otherwise."
Alister snapped to a lazy attention teasing his mother with a flopping salute and bow before walking Emily toward Marcus and passing her off to his arm. He then followed at a short distance as they walked away.
Emily swallowed slightly, trying to wet her throat after the strain of the initial meeting and now more intimate conversation expectations. She tried to think of something clever to say but nothing sprang immediately. After a moment she said, "My father told me that you enjoy music. I have been enjoying Vivaldi," She realized after a beat that he wasn't as well known yet and continued, "I like Beethoven as well." She closed her mouth realizing she was a moment away from starting to babble and stopped herself.
They rounded a bend and a hedge and Alister came bounding up. What now? Could her family be making this anymore difficult?
"Look you two, I'm sure you can behave yourself, and I'd rather not mill around watching your introductory flailings as there is someone at this party I'd rather be flailing around with. I know I can trust you to be a proper gentlemen to my sister, eh Fulton?" He gave Marcus a look then turned to Emily, "Don't tell mother." With that he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and turned down a path to their left almost dashing away.
Emily pursed her lips and reminded herself not to swear after him as it was socially unacceptable and wholly unladylike. Now she really was blushing and she couldn't stop it, "I...I apologize for Alister... he is nothing if not blunt. He forgets not everyone knows him as well as his family."
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The warmth of her skin beneath the thick material of her dress was still enough to send shocks up his fingers, her eyes boring holes into his as he gazed down at her.
The music in the background was a fuzzy, distant tingling in his ears. Emily was the only thing in the world. Thinking back on their first, awkward meeting, Marcus could hardly believe a lady such as herself would even have him.
“I’m still not convinced this isn’t just a wonderful dream, but if it is I pray I never wake up.”
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Somewhat shamefully, Marcus had been paying little attention to the chatter amongst the Lords and Ladies. It was always the same thing anyways, but still he was a bit embarrassed as the subject was swiftly and with little grace switched back to he and Emiline. Her brother, whom hadn’t spoken much before that, seemed eager to get them out alone. It was well enough, Marcus supposed, for he knew well of Alister Percy and his many exploits. Miss Percy’s older brother was surely not so ready to chaperone just for altruistic reasons, though Marcus didn’t blame him. He was much the same, often prowling like a tomcat in the gardens while the ladies hid their blushing cheeks behind delicate lace fans.
Just like that, Emiline’s little hand was grasping his bicep as gently as a butterfly visits a flower and they were off, with Alister following behind at a farther distance than was socially acceptable. After a moment Marcus lost track of him altogether, and just as the discomfort between them began to grow the girl took the initiative to speak. He was never quite so shy, and why his tongue had betrayed him now he was unsure, but thankfully Miss Percy was less of a coward. “I’ll admit I’ve never heard Vivaldi, but Beethoven is quite good,” he said, clearing his throat. “Perhaps you’ll enlighten me to some other good artists as well.”
Just as he was about to flounder for another subject, Alister came leaping around the bend like a happy puppy. They paused and the young man quickly bade them farewell, exiting with a coy command to behave and a short wave. Marcus smiled, but then quickly wiped it away before Emiline could see. It wouldn’t do for her to think he was comfortable with such unscrupulous actions, even if in truth he didn’t mind at all. “No need to apologize, miss. It’s just lucky that most don’t come to this area of the gardens, lest we be seen alone.” Marcus instantly realized the implications of that sentence and sped past it, hoping she wouldn’t ponder too long on what he’d just said.
“So, your parents mentioned you’re well-learned in languages and the arts, and it seems as if you have a healthy interest in music as well. What else do you enjoy doing? I’ll admit we don’t leave town terribly often so I don’t know what life’s really like in the countryside.” Marcus adjusted the collar of his shirt, wondering if she thought he was teasing her for having such unladylike interests. He’d seen her horror when her language studies had been brought up, and it intrigued him more than anything. Only talking to girls about the latest fashions from Paris got ever so tiresome, so he hoped she might have something more...intelligent to say.
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The blush that had colored her cheeks slipped away with the comment about the area of the gardens not being well trafficked. It was just like Alister do pull this kind of stunt! It also implied that the rumors about her betrothed and the other ladies of court had some merit, which made her feel a bit crestfallen. She certainly wasn't much like any of the girls he was used to, and if he was expecting her to be, they were both going to be disappointed.
She floundered in the moment after his comment trying not to think about how often he'd been in these gardens, or ones like them, and with whom, doing what. She was rescued from her own terrible imagination when he mentioned her education. Cheeks that had drained of color were pink once again with embarrassment. This introduction had gone less than well and she swallowed to wet her throat as he looked at her expectantly and she decided she'd try to reassure him he wasn't getting a hopeless no-nothing-of-importance in this arrangement/ " I... I know it isn't common for girls to be educated, but I had so many brothers it happened by accident at first and then my father insisted. It..I can be useful if you need something translated for your business ventures, or someone to help you look over your books or contracts. I of course am also well schooled, versed, and prepared to run and maintain a household as a proper lady should, both here at court or if we're ever on a country estate. All of that is not to say that I expect to be included, nor should you at all feel compelled, that is to say I know it is not common for wives, women, to be included in business affairs at all." She flushed again, floundering over her words, this time out of the idea that she was standing here, hand on arm with the man she was going to be married to and she felt like an utter mess, certain she'd probably offended him or put him off somehow. She couldn't imagine this introduction or this day could get no worse.
Which of course, it certainly could, and it was if her thoughts had materialized her worst nightmares as she saw a group of girls their age coming their way on the gravel path and she almost turned on a heel and ran. They had been laughing as they walked but then stopped as they saw Emily and Marcus, one breaking away to come address them, dropping a perfunctory curtsy.
"My, my if it isn't Little Emiline Percy! It's been ages since I've seen you at court!" As she bowed her head toward Marcus she gave Emily a pitying look as she "discreetly" wiped at her own cheek, the other two girls following suite. The delicate blond beauty before them was someone Emily could speak very little civilly about, so she rarely said anything at all. At the swipe of their fingers on their cheeks Emily wondered if she really could have possibly gotten something on her face from the time she'd left her room, or in the last few moments. She was sure Alister hadn't put anything there... or had he? Marcus would have said something, wouldn't he?
She felt mortified but simply nodded her head back, "Indeed Carrina, it has been some time. You look well." She wanted to say something scathing, had even practiced things over the years she would say to her if they met again, but there was Marcus and his family to impress. Now was not the time for petty remarks, no matter how much they were deserved.
"Oh I am! Thank you for saying so. You look," She glanced at Emily's dress, "Perfectly nice yourself. New dress? Oh! I'm sure you've heard, but I can't help but gush! Freddy is seeking contracts with my father for our marriage next year. Well he went off and was so valiant and brave in the wars and came back with all sorts of decorations! He's even been asked to join in the queen's joust this season. It should be splendid! You remember Fredrick don't you?"
How could Em forget, he'd only been one of her biggest tormentors and reasons for only coming to court when she was absolutely forced too. Emily felt her jaw clench, Carrina was sure to have heard about her own betrothal to Marcus, though their own contracts hadn't been formally signed yet, or the bonds posted, and wouldn't be for at least a month or more as their father's and mother's worked everything out. But Emily knew Carrina wanted nothing more than to get her to embarrassed herself in front of Marcus. Little did she know Emily didn't seem to need anyone's help at this stage. Her hand unconsciously tightened on Marcus's arm, trembling slightly in her attempt not to outwardly react.
"Oh of course you do!" Carrina seemed to take the silence as a cue to finally acknowledge that Emily was actually with someone and she turned to Marcus, "And Lord Fulton! It's so nice to see you here. I don't believe we've ever been formally introduced. Carrina Carlyle. My father is Commander Carlyle of her Majesty's royal navy. It is a pleasure." She dipped her head again at him respectfully, "Though if some of our mutual friends can be trusted it's seems it's been ages since anyone's seen you at one of these garden parties." Another dig at Emily for Marcus's reputation, and her hand tightened ever so slightly more on his arm. Carrina continued looking back at Emily again. "Lit...Emiline is a dear pet. We've known each for ages and ages! Haven't we Emiline? Though I dare say I'm quite surprised you aren't over run by one or several of her brothers or cousins. There seem to be so many Percy's I simply can't keep track, and they do seem to always be under foot when at court." She pretended to look around as if half expecting one of them to pop out from a bush- which had unfortunately happened with one of Emily's younger brother's the last time they'd been at a garden party with Carrina when they were twelve.
Noticing no brothers, little or big, Carrina's pleasant smile turned ever so slightly vicious as she flicked out her fan and hid slightly behind it, "My, my no brothers about you two?" She glanced at Marcus, her lashes batting slightly and she looked back at Emily, "What would your mother say?"
Wonderful now she was standing here with Marcus, without and escort and it had to be Carrina they ran into who would do almost anything to make her feel insecure or out of step, and would very likely not go tell Vivian Percy directly, but gossip about it enough it would get back to her mother anyway, damage done. Emily seemed to have been struck dumb. She knew her social graces, but what could prepare you for meeting your mortal enemy in a slightly compromised position with a man you were expected to marry that you just met?! She knew little of Marcus yet and she had no idea what he really knew about her either and how he would react to all of this.
What she wouldn't give to be sitting in her favorite tree right at this very moment, reading a book back on the country estate!
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He waited as she became flustered again, stumbling over her words. Marcus hadn’t meant to get her in such a state, but it was a little bit funny to watch her flounder for a moment, as mean as that would have sounded if he’d admitted it to anyone. “If you’d like me to be very honest, Miss Percy,” he hadn’t gotten used to using her first name just yet, “I think that it’s rather old fashioned to assume that women are only good for cooking and cleaning. Those things are important of course but I don’t see why anyone should be concerned if you know other things as well. My mother had brought up the idea-” he stopped himself just in time. While his mother had been the one to bring Emiline to his father’s attention, she had less than pleasant things to say about her education. Lady Fulton often had less than pleasant things to say about nearly everyone, though Marcus also kept that to himself. “Well, I will just say that my mother is very traditional in that respect. But I am not; I think it would be splendid if you could help me translate some documents. Languages have never been my strong suit.”
His mouth was already open to continue his line of questioning when a gaggle of familiar faces appeared on the opposite side of the path coming toward them. Marcus’ heart dropped as Carinna’s smiling face all but pranced toward them, her little cronies waiting in the wings for now. For a brief moment he hoped she and Emiline were somehow friends, however stupid of a dream that may have been. Even he, a man with little knowledge of how females interacted in their own groups, could see the maliciousness behind Carinna’s warm smile. Though if he was honest with himself he wasn’t sure Carinna Carlyle had ever produced a genuine smile in her life, so perhaps that’s just what she looked like.
The interaction started well enough, with Miss Carlyle gushing about her new betrothed, a young man who was well known but not particularly loved at court. Frederick Fontaine was dumb as a boot but very well off, and if Marcus’ memory served he hadn’t been quite so decorated in the army as Carinna had said, but perhaps some new daring feats of bravery had occurred between now and the last time the rumor mill had churned out its latest news.
Finally, the real insult came. Carinna looked straight into his face and pretended not to know him; Marcus’ jaw itched to correct her, to remind her of how she’d plead after him like a lost puppy and how he’d turned down her family’s proposal without regard to their riches. That had been a very uncomfortable day in the Fulton household, and he still wasn’t sure his parents had forgiven him. Still, he held his tongue for Emiline’s sake, it wouldn’t do to humiliate her on such an important day. But it also wouldn’t do to allow Carrina to do so either. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Carlyle,” he said through gritted teeth. “I regretfully have not been able to attend as of late, my father has had some business dealings he’s requested my help with.” This was his own little lie, for the simple fact of it was that he did not wish to attend and so he didn’t.
While it was true that the Percys were many, having gained the nickname ‘Plentiful Percys’ by those who did not favor them, Marcus didn’t much like the tone Carrina took when speaking about them. Of course he had just met Emiline and knew almost nothing about her, but she was about to become family to him as well and he could not stand by while sometimes such as Carrina insulted her and her kin. Emiline had nothing to say back to Miss Carlyle’s little idle threat, but her small hand has clamped so tightly around his arm he feared a bruise would crop up later. Marcus had never been the type to freeze up and lose his words under duress, thankfully, though he could understand why Emiline did. It was more important for a young lady to maintain her graces, and more difficult for her to recover if she did not.
“I suppose Lady Percy, if she were to somehow find out about this, would react similarly to how yours would if she knew about yourself and Lord Holden’s little misadventure last summer. Luckily no one will ever know of this encounter nor yours with Holden, so there’s nothing for us to worry about.” Marcus smiled warmly at Carrina’s now gawking face, ignoring her friends standing nearby whispering to each other with the most scandalized looks on their faces. They must not have behaved for the idea that Marcus could make threats too.
For once, the small blonde girl had no quick retort. They’d always been rather evenly matched in wits, and perhaps that was why they had never gotten along well no matter how much they tried. “I would like to congratulate you on your betrothal, I do hope Emiline and I will receive an invitation to the ceremony. It’s wonderful you’ve finally met someone, I know it must have been rather difficult after having been at court for so long without much luck. Please, if you’ll excuse us, we should be getting along before we are missed.”
He knew that would cut her right to the quick and judging by the way her cheeks had reddened, with anger rather than humiliation, his theory had proven accurate. No matter how beautiful Miss Carlyle was, it was difficult to like her once she’d opened her mouth. It was lucky that Lord Holden had been able to see past that, Marcus thought.
“It’s just as well, I’ve got some other friends to visit today and I must be going. It was so nice to see you again, Em, we must catch up sometime.” Carrina all but spat, gesturing for her friends to come along as if they were loyal dogs. Carrina was nothing if not persistent, and Marcus knew they hadn’t seen the last of her. She must have felt slighted that he’d chosen her own worst enemy over her, despite how little choice in the matter he actually had.
He turned briefly to watch them bustle away, then raised a gentle hand to pat Emiline’s. “I do hope you don’t let her bother you. She’s about as much trouble as a horsefly, but just like the fly a single swat will send her off.”
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It took Emily by complete shock every word that came out of Marcu's mouth grim him assuming she knew much about coming and cleaning- she did, but that wasn't something a lady did but directed house servants to do- to thier exchange with Carrina. She watched as Carrina and her friends visibly took a half step back from him. What on earth was he thinking? Better yet, was everything he was saying true? He seemed irritated with Carrina and having to deal with her. Was he actually happy about the arrangement? Should she be happier about it? Why was he saying that? Oh no! Don't insult her!
A range of emotions swirled through her and she tried to remind herself not to look like a guppy as all of this was taking place. She wasn't completely aware of things when she felt the tug of his arm under hers and she started to walk with him, thankful she didn't stumble or trip over her dress and petty coats.
She took only a moment to glance over her shoulder at the red faced Carrina and her cohorts before they turned and stalked off in the opposite direction. That certainly wouldn't be the last she'd hear from Carrina Carlyle. Then the reality of the situation really did come crashing in on her.
She swallowed at his comment about files. She wasn't sure what parsed her to say it but she ground out, "If only I was allowed or was better at swating flies." She lapsed back into silence until they'd rounded a few bends and it seemed they were in some kind of tucked away sitting area and truly alone for the first time since meeting. The quiet of the area seeming to rouse her to her situation.
The stringed quartet that was up near the house could still be heard and the occasional laughter or passing conversation behind a hedge. She let go of his arm and simply stopped in the pebbled space, her heels sinking down between the rocks as she mildly shook her head from side to side for a moment.
"I..." She cleared her throat and looked up at him, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly as she surveyed him. "Thank you for defending me, but if I'm I honest cannot believe you just did that." She kept her ton low, but it had risen quite unexpectedly at the end. She was clearly upset.
She forced herself to lower her tone and keep it there. "Commander Carlyle is highly decorated and highly regarded by the Queen. And Carrina his first and favorite daughter!" She turned slightly to face him, her head tipping back to look up at his much taller stature."I hope all the accusations were true because if not we're both going to be in a spot."
She started pacing, the parasol almost slipping from her hand and she fumbled with it embarrassed for a moment and looked away from him seeming to mutter to herself a little, "Not that I didn't have enough problems with that lot. This is an utter disaster. Marriage of the century! Now they're going to go off saying how poorly the Marquesses daughter treated them. Doesn't matter they're the ones that have always..."
She stopped herself and pursed her lips to keep from talking anymore, realizing she had most likely just made a bad situation utterly terrible and certainly worse. You most certainly did not talk to your future husband this way. Perhaps after years of marriage and understanding, but not now. How could she be so stupid? He'd defended her, and essentially their own betrothal and this is what she did? This wasn't Percy Hall, and she most certainly wasn't speaking to someone she should be so casual with yet.
She swallowed trying not to let the building tears in her eyes spill over this whole horrible situation. She felt completely mollified and just wanted to crawl under a rock. He wouldn't want to be marrying her now after such a horrid display. What had she done? Had she just ruined everything? She was too liberal of tongue for her own good. Her mother had always told her so.
She couldn't handle it and she was breathing fast and feeling faint and she simply had to get away from him before anything got worse. She turned back to him, dropping a curtsy and keeping her head lowered, "I...I beg your pardon Lord Fulton. You have every right to say whatever you like to Miss Carlyle or anyone else. Please excuse me, I beg your leave as I seem to be out of sorts and not fit for anyone's company." She dropped a second curtsy and turned picking up her skirts and dashed off back in the direction she hopped the house was swiping at the tears and brushing past Alister as he came sauntering in.
Alister held a drink in his hand and clearly had enjoyed company of some sort. A pink smear near his collar and mussed hair and neck tie speaking for themselves. He looked at Marcus and at his sister's retreating back, then back to Marcus. "Well. That didn't take long. Em go and bungle things eh Fulton? I figured I'd be back before that happened and at least get to watch, new record for her I think." He patted Marcus on the back as he looked off in the general direction of the opening in the hedge, "She never cries unless she's done something wrong, that's how mother always knew if she really was the culprit or the victim when we were growing up. So what'd she do?"
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He had let his temper get the best of him, that much was certain. However much Carinna had deserved it, Emiline did not deserve to be a witness to it nor wrapped up in it as she had now become. Marcus peered down dumbly at her as she began, obviously very upset with him. He’d gone too far in the defense of his own pride, and he worried she’d be the one to pay the price for it. She seemed as if it was painful to speak and he listened to her rant sadly, not having meant for it to go quite so far.
“Of course everything I said was true!” He barked, trying to keep his own voice steady, “I was the one that caught them in the act!” It didn’t stop his voice from wavering a bit, the memory was still a bit painful if he was honest. When she’d stopped her pacing and turned to him, he noticed she wouldn’t meet his eye. An unpleasant pang stabbed his heart as he realized she must be so upset as to cry, otherwise why else would she not look at him? In all his twenty years he’d never made a girl cry and so had no idea how to handle it. His mouth gaped open and shut like a beached fish, but he couldn’t find the right words to fix it, assuming it could be fixed at all. And then just like that she had bade him goodbye with a small curtesy and bolted off down the path from whence they came. “Wait, Miss Percy!” He called, jogging after her a few strides before slowing to a walk the rest of the way. Marcus didn’t suppose it would help things much if he were spotted chasing a crying girl through the gardens, and so he watched her disappear around the bend with a heavier heart than he’d have expected.
Finally, nearing the house, he spotted Alister moseying toward him with a very particular glow about him, lipstick stains and all. Marcus stifled a smile at the young man’s condition, not wanting to draw attention to it or offend him. He’d done quite enough offending for one day, he reasoned. Marcus glanced off behind the young Percy as if Emiline might pop out from over his shoulder, but she did not. Instead he stood in a bit of a daze as the days strange events settled into his brain, only coming back to reality as Alister clapped him on the back good naturedly. His mood darkened a little more as he mentioned his sister only cried when she felt she’d done something wrong, and it left him feeling even more stupid than before.
“Emiline’s done nothing wrong, I’m afraid it was me who ruined things. To make a long story short, we were confronted by someone I have, ahh, history with,” he glanced at Alister knowingly, “I’m sure you understand. And, well, she was just being so nasty to your sister and myself. So I let my temper get a bit carried away with me. I fear I said some things that were far too cruel, true as they may be, and I’ve offended your sister a great deal because of it.” He paused and glanced off toward the house again, too far from it to see it’s pearly white visage through the bushes but still close enough to hear the bustle of the party. No one else seemed to have noticed Emiline’s disappearance just yet, he thought with relief.
“I suppose it’s worse that it was the daughter of Commander Carlyle,” he admitted rather sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Marcus didn’t worry so much about his own reputation being that it was less than shining to begin with, but to think he could have ruined an innocent girl’s made him a bit sick. “I don’t suppose she will want anything to do with me after this and rightly so.” Marcus said, shrugging. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but that he could see no way of fixing it.
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Alister bobbed his head glancing back in the direction his sister had been dashing in, and back to Marcus as he explained the situation. He sipped at his glass, his brow furrowing slightly in an effort to let the slightly younger man speak his peace and get it off his chest. The two of them were made for each other in his mind though, both stumbling, both thinking it was their own fault and not the others. He knew what it was to be considered a bit of a scoundrel at court, so he wasn't judgmental of his future brother-in-law.
There were generally more rumors than truth to most of the stories, which only worked to inflate a young man's ego if he let it. In Marcus's case Alister decided he'd take any gossip that might come to him with a grain of salt if he was willing to defend Emily so quickly knowing very little about her, and probably unsure of the entire situation as much as his sister was. He took a drink from his glass, as Marcus turned slightly uncomfortable, then nearly spit it out at hearing who they had come in contact with.
He swallowed with some effort and turned and coughed, beating on his chest to clear it, then stood and composed himself before turning back to Marcus. "I beg your pardon, but you mean Carinna Carlyle, correct?" When he nodded Alister shook his head slightly. "If anything, once she's taken a moment to realize what you've really done, you'll have endeared yourself to my sister." He took a breath, and the mask of raffish charm slipped ever so slightly, showing the serious and oft time troubled young man beneath. "Emily hates her. Rightly so."
He then gave just a smattering of treatment his sister had been subject to at the hands of Carinna. How it had started out petty enough when Emily had caught the eye of some boy Carinna fancied when they were both ten. There were the usual court insults, commenting on Emily not always wearing the latest fashion, repeating half heard things that girls of their age knew only enough of to wound- the Percy family's slight decline in court opinion, a business deal that didn't pan out when a ship sunk at sea, that Carinna would taunt Emily with. The time Emily had been found at a picnic with a smudge of ink or charcoal or some such on her nose and cheek when she'd stolen away and been sketching flowers or birds or something else instead of wandering around aimlessly or playing croquet like the other children. He relayed the terrible nickname "Littleline" that they'd most of the other court children had taken to calling her, that was close enough to her name that if an adult heard the muttered insult it wouldn't be entirely clear what they were doing.
He sighed after the quick account and shook his head, "Emiline's happiness was one of the driving factors for us leaving for the country estate six years ago, though everyone assumed it was yet another decline in finances that forced us from our town property. My father adore's Emiline, so it didn't bother him in the least what people said so long as she was happier, and my mother does what she does best and made the most of it." He swirled the last bit of golden liquid in his champagne glass, watching it for a moment before looking up at Marcus. "Emiline would be mortified to know I told you any of that, but I feel you are a kindred spirit, and believe my sister is worth your efforts to continue the betrothal. So I felt you ought to know, the last straw before we left was the ball at the end of the summer season when Em was twelve. Carinna fell in a fountain after having intoxicated herself on drinks she wasn't supposed to have. Em was in the wrong place at the wrong time and Carinna convinced everyone that Em shoved her in. It mortified her, and our mother, who knew Emiline better but it was Emiline's word against the daughter of one of the Queen's favorites. My mother made her formally apologize to the host, Lord Mountbatton, in front of everyone who cared to gather, before personally seeing to paying for Carinna's ruined gown. The verbal lashing Emily received on the carriage ride upon leaving, I'm certain has stayed with her. She both hates Carrina with a passion and is terrified to miss step with her ever again." Alister tossed the rest of the drink into a bush, "She's also a real lady and the only people I've ever truly heard her speak scathingly about are me and our brothers," he ended, trying for a bit more lightheartedness after all that heavy information.
He glanced back at the house and then to Marcus, "I probably wouldn't tell her what specific type of past you have with Miss Carlyle", for she was a 'miss' and not a 'lady' as Emily was, "But if you do choose to not wash your hands of my sister yet, and decide to brave speaking with her again and go looking for her- your best bets are statuary garden on the west end of the house that isn't strictly part of the party, or inside in good Lady Waldorf's art gallery on the south east end of the house. They're her favorite places when we come to stay here in our cousins home." His work done, his raffish mask back in place, he tipped his head slightly to Marcus and strode off, boots crunching, down one of the winding garden paths. Giving him options, and also hopefully affording the two of them some space and privacy to actually speak to each other alone.
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Marcus flinched away from the stream of champagne as Alister nearly choked upon hearing just who it was he’d attacked. It was as bad as he thought, he decided. What little he knew of his future brother in law told him that the man wasn’t one to be overly flustered over nothing, and this was quite a bit more than nothing. Suddenly Marcus wished he had a drink as well, if only to calm his nerves a bit and to give his hands something to do besides fiddling nervously with the button on his jacket.
He didn’t interrupt as Alister spoke, recounting a rather distressing tale of Carinna’s cruelty to Emiline over the years, and it was immediately clear why she’d been so tongue tied when the little blonde had approached them. He supposed anyone would be rather shy around their childhood bully, especially when they’d been the cause of such a complete public humiliation. Marcus’ brow furrowed, beginning to feel a bit angry himself as the list of slights continued. What gave Miss Carlyle the right to treat Emiline so horribly? Unfortunately, he knew of several other girls that’d also been targets of the Carlyle girl’s ire, though none quite so severe and persistent as this.
Marcus didn’t say anything, for nothing he could come up with would be of much help, but his ears did perk up as Alister noted some of his sister’s favorite hiding spots around the property. He returned the other man’s half-smile, “It seems as if I may need to embark on a bit of a manhunt, then.” He turned and nodded toward Alister’s retreating form as he walked off down the gravel path, “Enjoy the party!”
And so he took off as nonchalantly as possible toward the large, pristine manor, to start his search there. Along the way he bumped into a few people he knew, mostly young girls, who he tried to brush off as politely as possible. “Yes, how do you do? I’m quite well, thank you. I must be going, I do beg your pardon,” it was the same script with each of them, and every girl seemed a bit crestfallen that he had no time for them. A few turned back to their friends to whisper conspiratorially, though he didn’t pay them much mind. Marcus pushed through the grand front doors, praying that no one else he knew would be waiting inside and praying even harder that none of their families should see him sneaking off in such a manner, and breathed a sigh of relief that the house was mostly deserted save for a few people who did not seem to notice him much. It was a beautiful day outside, and it seemed most of the party goers wanted to take advantage of the weather.
His heels clicked quietly as he strode down the polished hallways, paintings of dead relatives lining each wall watching him as he went. He’d not spent much time in this house before, even at previous parties on the property, and so it took a bit of searching before he came across a tall set of oak doors that looked about right for a grand art gallery. One door was cracked open just a bit and so he crept up to it to poke his head inside, rather than rushing in like a charging bull. “Emiline?” He whispered, his own voice echoing back at him from the desolate room. There seemed to be no one inside, which made sense. Marcus wouldn’t want a bunch of drinking party guests, no matter how noble their houses, inside a room full of expensive art either. Finally, he slipped inside the room to have a look just in case and was immediately glad he did, for as soon as he rounded the side of the door he spotted a familiar silhouette in a pretty blue dress, back turned to him.
“Could we please talk, Emiline?” He asked quietly, not wanting to be heard outside the room just in case anyone had spotted him entering. The last thing he needed was yet another person seeing him alone with her, lest he make things even worse.
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Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for -Epicurus
Emily instantly felt more guilt fall upon her the moment she'd stepped away. She needed to think, and she'd spent too much time alone and with books, a poor habit both of her parents had actually commented on, to do it as quickly as was needed in this situation. She had almost turned back at one point, but hearing voices laughing and talking behind her in the maze of hedges, had sent fear down her spine at who it might be, and how she was now alone and without support. She'd pressed on to the house, not wanting to be caught in the gardens alone.
She couldn't, however, return to her rooms. Melly would be there, and then she'd be in trouble from the top of her head to the tips of her toes with everyone. She knew the house well still, even if she hadn't been here in years, and she slipped carefully and quietly to the art gallery. It had a set of glass doors that she could flee out of, back into another section of the garden if needs be and join in the party... somehow. Without Lord Fulton, without an escort in Alister, and somehow convince her mother she wasn't a complete and utter failure in every way. Simple, right?
Just the thought of all if brought fresh tears to her eyes.
She had been in a state of trying to calm herself for some time, managing to regain at least enough composure to stop crying, when she heard her name called by a still mostly unfamiliar voice. She froze, struck dumb for a moment before she managed to swallow, her hands curling tightly around a very small book with a slip of paper sticking slightly askew out of it. She dabbed at her face once more, though her tears had dried, her lashes stop held a small amount of glistening damp and she swallowed and turned to face the man that was to be her husband. Until she'd ruined it.
She shouldn't have run away, she should have had the decency to see their first meeting through. He had come to look for her though, which must be a positive in her favor, though she couldn't see how. She'd made him chase her down, hunt for her. It was utterly appalling. Guilt guilt guilt. Then he was stepping closer to her. She felt her chest tighten in an odd way as he looked at her. Marcus Fulton was handsome, he was well mannered and was asking to speak again even though he had every reason to never do so again, or at least treat her like the reprobate she had behaved like. If things had been different and she could have gotten to know him on her own terms, perhaps she really would have thought of him as her "knight in shining armor" as her best friend probably would have equated the early situation with Carrina too. Elizabeth Brandon was a romantic and Emily's best friend. Emily, as much as she would have liked to have been, was too much of a realist.
She had pictured her life, the things she wanted, and he might have fit the design, had she not gone and thrown black paint all over the fresh forming canvas. Not that it mattered really. Even if he wouldn't have fit, she would simply have had to change the shape of herself to match, if he'd have agreed to things at all. Now... well now...
All of these things ran through her head in the blink of an eye and her mouth dropped open as she looked down, trying to stuff the book back into the small bag at her wrist and curtsy again as she turned toward him, and speak, all at the same time. "Lord Fulton. What...how did you.." She swallowed, glancing back at the slightly open door and then at him.
She wasn't sure what to say, or if she should say anything at all truth be told. Anything she said would only confuse the situation or make it worse or any number of things. She took a breath, forcing herself into a semblance of calm she didn't feel at all, and her lace gloved hands curling into slight fists for a bare moment before she finally looked back him, stealing herself for his inevitable refusal of her and their match. She only had herself to blame. "We can speak of anything you wish Lord Fulton," she finally managed with a slight bow of her head.
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His heart sank a bit as he noticed her eyelashes glistening with tears she hadn’t quite been able to wipe away. Her cheeks were ruddy and her eyes red, like she’d rubbed at them a few too many times. Marcus frowned, unsure how to proceed. Emotions were not his strong suit and they never had been, but he was determined to try and fix things with her. Why, exactly, he cared so much was still a bit of a mystery even to him, but as he gazed down at her small face he decided it didn’t matter at that moment. These things could be thought through later. He only needed to focus on fixing what he’d done, no matter the cost to himself. A good man always took responsibility for his actions; his father had instilled that idea into his son early in life, after catching him in a lie about taking his pony out alone when he wasn’t supposed to.
Even in her state, Emiline was as formal as ever with her small curtsy and polite words and it made him smile a bit. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to be so ceremonial with him, but even in their short time knowing one another he knew that would be a futile request. “I’d like to apologize for how things have gone. It was wrong of me to speak to Miss Carlyle in such a way, especially with you present. I fear I’ve damaged both your reputation and our own relationship,” He paused and looked around the room, dark eyes bouncing from painting to painting. He swallowed hard, feeling a bit nervous suddenly. “Of course I will understand if you wish to have nothing to do with me, though please know this isn’t a personal rejection to you,” He made sure to add that last part quickly, lest he upset Lady Percy further by making her think this was all a plot to rid himself of her. Clasping his hands in front of himself, he continued. “If my assumption is correct that you would like to cancel our betrothal, I would like to suggest that you place all the blame on me. Tell your parents and mine that I behaved as a lunatic on our outing and that I attacked a girl without cause, I’m sure your brother Alister will corroborate the story if you just ask. That way you can back out of the deal with, hopefully, little consequence to yourself.”
He hoped she would take the offer, not because he did not like or want her, but because it was the smart thing to do for her own sake. It may not have been too late for Emiline to rectify her own situation, though for Marcus the same could not be said. He was very aware what people would think of him if she took his idea and told her parents he was mad, but frankly he didn’t care much. His own reputation at court was already less than desirable and another hit to it would be just a drop in the bucket. Perhaps he could join the army and ship off to some faraway place, he wondered, far from the dramas of court. He shook his head slightly, leaving those ideas for later. Marcus looked at her briefly again, feeling a sad pang in his chest for reasons unknown to him.
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Emily's mouth popped open in a rather unlady like 'O' of surprise at his words. She managed to close it rather quickly and she flushed, for a reason she could not name. She chewed slightly at her bottom lip before she forced herself to stop. Her mother was always getting after her for the action. "Certainly," popped from her mouth and she swallowed shaking her head, "Certainly not." She amended with a great deal of vigor.
"You didn't damage any reputation that I hadn't already tarnished with the Carlyle's in the past. What you did..." She took a breath, "I'm actually grateful for. No one has ever defended me in front of Carrina. It was kind of you." She thought of his offer, took a breath and sighed, losing a bit of her poise and she looked at him, her face open and frank, "I cannot do that," or wouldn't, "Neither of us can, if we're being honest." Her father needed the business ties and financial gain it would bring, as much as the standing and elevation back into better regard in society. She wasn't sure what Lord Fulton was getting out if it, but it must have been worth the effort on the side of all parties, or their father's wouldn't have arranged it. Still, first her father and now Marcus had both offered her a way out of this arrangement, and she continued to shock herself by not accepting. "Besides, Alister has every reason to support this match, and no reason to help either of us wriggle out of it. With our parents interest focused so heavily on me, it gives him a great deal more freedom. The thing my brother craves more than the company of flirting courtiers, is the freedom from the duties set upon him for being eldest." She surveyed him standing in front of her, now less like one of fine paintings of young men that so enamored the female persuasion, and more like an art critic.
Seeing something there she hadn't expected from the scant amount of gossip she'd heard about him, more in the last fortnight since her father had given her the news, she took another breath and straightened her spine once more. "Perhaps," She hesitated and turned fully toward him from her slightly angled posture since he'd come in. "We should give this a try over." She pulled a tentative, almost worried, smile to her face, dipped a short, yet elegant curtsy again and offered her lace gloved hand to him again, perhaps this time he wouldn't shake it, "Lord Fulton, Emiline Percy, though I prefer Emily."
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Of course it was a silly proposition, not to mention rather drastic, but still Marcus felt a bit sorry when Emily confirmed there was little they could do to get out of the arrangement. He had little desire to do so anymore of course, but still felt as if miss Percy may have reservations and rightly so. “I suppose you’re right on that account. Our betrothal is fated by powers greater than our own, by which I mean our parents.” He smiled, trying to find some humor in the situation. Regardless of the circumstance and how she seemed to be quite ensnared in a marriage she couldn’t rightly escape from, Emiline’s spirits seemed to brighten a bit as she straightened herself and extended a lacey hand once again, which Marcus gently grasped.
“It’s a pleasure, Emily,” He said, playing along, the name feeling a bit odd in his mouth. It was the first time he’d had the courage to shorten her full name. “Please, call me Marcus. I-” he stopped himself short, hearing something. Footsteps. Had they been discovered? His heart leapt into his throat and he released Emily’s hand, stepping quickly toward the door but whether he planned to slam it shut or dash out of it to try and catch the person before they discovered them he was not sure. Just before reaching the tall, polished wooden door he stopped and spun on his heel to catch Emily’s eye, as if she might suddenly know what to do to rescue them both.
“What do we do?!” He mouthed silently, hoping she might understand. The steps were light and quick, but drawing ever nearer. Marcus remembered from his short walk down the hallway that there were few doors that the intruder could be heading toward, which left only one alternative. His heart raced a bit, despite knowing that there was little more he could do to upset the day as it were, though there was some hope in him that the news of his attack on Miss Carlyle hadn’t been spread quite yet. The possibilities raced in his mind. An angry friend of Carinna who’d sniffed them out? A relative who’d caught wind that Alister was no longer accompanying them and also knew well of Emily’s favorite spots to visit? Or something worse? Marcus swallowed hard, listening and hoping that the feet would turn abruptly into another room and put his panic to rest.
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Emily's own smile brightened to something lovely and sincere as he made to play along. She could tell he wasn't quite comfortable with calling her Emily. She was considering telling him Emiline was perfectly fine- though no one but her Mother or acquaintances really called her that- once he was done reintroducing himself. Only he was interrupted, they were interrupted yet again by the brisk sound of foot steps.
She watched him dart to the door, her eyes going around the familiar room and back to him as he looked terrified they were going to be found without an escort. She moved toward the glass doors leading to a side garden and waved to him to follow but something stopped her frantic waving, and smoothed out her features.
The footsteps were accompanied by a whistling tune. She almost instantly relaxed, rolling her eyes which would have appalled her mother, and smiled at Marcus once again, "It's Alister," she said by way of reassurance just before her brother poked his head in. His brow raised at seeing Marcus so close to the door and his sister across the room at the only escape. He grinned and slipped in, pulling his hands from behind his back where they had been clasped and he reached up and tapped the side of his nose. "That was a good idea Robin," he said with a mischievous smile while using a nickname Emily didn't exactly hate, but no one used in front of people outside the country estate.
She narrowed her eyes at him, but he turned to Marcus and nodded, "Good man, I see you found her," he muttered low enough so Emily couldn't hear across the vaulted space. He smiled, "Best go and take my sister's hand and head back out though, your absence," he looked at both of them, "Has been noted, but we can certainly still give you two some more time if we're seen strolling soon." He looked back at Emily who was glaring daggers at him until she smoothed her face when Marcus turned to look at him. He was in trouble with his sister, clearly, but perhaps he could help make a wash of the day by actually being on his mark for them for a few minutes.
He wagged his hands at Marcus to shuffle him toward his sister and watched as the two slipped out the doors. He maintained enough distance to give them the opportunity for still rather more private conversation, but close enough he could give a nod and the appearance he was paying attention to his chaperoning duties.
Emily felt a little heady from the excitement yet again, and her thoughts a bit disjointed from yet another interruption, but she tried to recompose herself quickly once they were back outside. She'd popped the parasol and had it resting gently over her shoulder and had tucked her hand back just below the crook of his elbow once again, and decided to say what she was going to offer a few moments ago as they stepped back into a side garden that was slightly detached from the more formal gardens and paths. "You don't have to call me Emily if you don't prefer to." He was going to be her husband, he could call her whatever he wanted in the world they lived in.
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He’d made to follow her when the look of fear peculiarly left her face, prompting him to turn and see what she was looking at. It was, thank god, only Alister, and he was standing in the doorway looking rather amused at the state they were in. Marcus smiled ear to ear and glanced back at Em, seeing her shoot her brother a look as he prodded at her about her choice of escape route. He nodded at Alister’s acknowledgement without thanking him verbally, lest Emily hear and scold the duo, however good-naturedly, for conspiring against her. Marcus followed his soon to be brother in law’s instruction, moseying over to Emiline to follow her out the glass doors and into the gardens beyond.
It was a lovely, sunny day, and he gladly lead her down the little path leading away from the house, glancing at the parasol cheerily bobbing on her one shoulder as they went. She quickly broke the silence, perhaps feeling a bit braver now that they’d harrowed a potentially life or death event in each other’s company, mentioning that he didn’t have to use her shortened name at all if he wished. Again, Marcus smiled. “Oh, but I do. It’s a bit formal for my liking to call you by your full name. It’s just that my mother instilled the habit early to not shorten names or alter them without explicit permission. She says it’s quite rude.” He turned his gaze from Emily’s fair face, having lingered a bit too long on her pretty side profile, and looked back down the garden path. The estate was thick with flowers and shrubbery of all sorts; he thought the family must spend a small fortune on gardeners alone, for it was so vast he couldn’t imagine the Lady of the house having time to tend to it all. As they wound even deeper into the little side gardens branching off the main area, his awe at the lushness of it all grew. Still, though, he knew their time alone may be growing short and he didn’t wish to waste it with small talk about horticulture.
“It’s been an eventful day so far, hasn’t it?” it was less a question and more a statement, “I’m not sure how I pictured it would go, but it certainly wasn’t as exciting as this. Tell me, Emily, if you don’t mind, how are you feeling about everything?” He assumed she’d been as apprehensive as he was at the beginning, but there was a bit more of an ease about her and even how she walked next to him that hadn’t existed when they first set off on their small garden adventure.
“My parents are ever so glad we’ve all come to an agreement, but I wonder if your family is similar to mine in that they’ve failed to ask just what you think of it all.” It was said cheerfully, not meant to offend, though he knew it could be taken as such. While it was a fact that they both had little say in the direction their lives were taking, he hoped she wouldn’t be too cross at him for speaking so plainly. Some people were strange about that, Marcus knew, but he knew so little about Emily that he had no way of knowing which side of the fence she fell on.
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Emily smiled a little forlornly at the events of the last few hours and pursed her lips in thought. No, things certainly had not gone the way she had expected, but when did they in life really? A bit of a shock ran through her when he asked how she felt about the arrangement. Her mouth opened once he was done, and then shut again, her lips once again pursing in deep contemplation.
She'd thought they'd talk about their interests, get to know one another a bit before they turned to such serious contemplation. She kept her face forward, but glanced at him from the side behind her lashes and the bobbing lace of the parasol. "I..." Her brow furrowed before she smoothed it and turned her face slightly to him. "It wasn't all together unexpected by any means. It is how things are done, isn't it?" She faced forward again, watching the pebbled path they were crunching along. "My parents married for love you see, but from a very young age my mother instilled in me the knowledge that it was uncommon and to expect nothing less than arrangement, despite the privilege she and my father enjoyed."
She kept herself from shrugging a shoulder, "I was prepared for this..." She glanced at his handsome face and away, a very pretty blush rising to her cheeks, "Though I did think I'd get to know, or would have known any match my father arranged more than we do." The flush turned to a deeper blush. "What little I know of you, I'm afraid was over heard during conversations between my father and yours on his rare visits or..." idle gossip, but she didn't want to admit that, and she cleared her throat ever so slightly. "You like Bach," she turned the conversation hastily, "Do you play an instrument or simply enjoy as an observer? I'm rather wanting with the pianoforte, but not so hopeless with the viola."
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Marcus stole glances as Em floundered for a split second at his questioning. He’d have never admitted it, but he enjoyed confounding her just a little bit. In open company he was of course the gentleman he’d been raised to be, but when it was just the two of them he felt a bit more comfortable with speaking openly. It was his hope that she’d come to feel the same way eventually, for even now he could tell she was picking the most diplomatic way to tell him that she may not have been pleased upon hearing of the engagement. “Indeed, it is how things are done. My parents married in much the same way we are about to, hence why they are so very ill suited for one another,” he paused, waiting for the look on her face that comment was sure to bring about, “but it can work out in the end. I am a bit sorry for you that you won’t have the same privilege as your own mother and father, it seems a little unfair if you think about it.”
“As for not knowing me, you could say the feeling was mutual there. Though perhaps it’s best that we get to know each other on our own rather than through whispers amongst our friends at court.” As far as whisperings went, there was little being said about Emiline Percy whereas he was often a very hot topic for the rumor mill. He felt a bit uncomfortable for a second, thinking of the things she may have heard about him. Not all of it was true of course, but a dizzying amount of it was. He smiled as she changed the subject, having gotten his fill of stirring her up for the moment. “I’m not afraid to admit that I’m hopeless with anything having to do with music. I’ve got no rhythm to speak of,” he paused for a moment, realization creeping over him, “Which I suppose you will see for yourself when we dance together for the first time. I do beg of you not to laugh at me too much.” Marcus chuckled, “I’m much better with art, though. Painting and drawing are my forte, though sculpting has been a recent interest. It was rather heartening to have found you amongst so much art for that very reason, at least that way I know we’ve got that in common.”
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