stedfastasthou

[stedfastasthou]

If she hadn’t done her share of skating at Westhorpe with Charles steady and supportive at her side, Sophia might have been too unsteady to even risk the expanse of the ice set aside for skating. Even with those long winters of practice, she didn’t trust herself to keep up with the children, who zipped far far head of her, testing the patience and endurance of both the footman and their nanny. Content to go at a slower pace, she skated idly, watching the others in addition to her own and they all variably excelled or failed at the exercise so unfamiliar to the city.

    (There was one rather overpainted dandy who she thought was finding his stays and false calves particularly troublesome to his movement, but at least the padding on his hips would cushion him in his falls.)

A sudden force sent her skittering, arms pinwheeling for instinctive balance as she squealed before giving it up and falling with as much care as the could, catching herself on her warm, sturdy mittens that protected her hands. Better to fall with some control than cause any more damage, Charles had told her as he explained that learning to skate started with learning how to fall properly.

When she was fully stopped, she checked around her, turning to see who had collided with her. “Are you well?” she asked. An collision required two injured parties, after all.

@stedfastasthou​

Effie had gone ice skating before, as she liked to consider herself to be an outdoors kind of person. Well, at least, she enjoyed the outdoors: the nature part of it, being able to grow a seed into a plant. She liked to sit underneath a properly shaded tree as she read. She liked to close her eyes when the breeze hit just right, flowing through the nature surrounding her. 

The crowd part of the Frost Fair wasn’t her favorite, as she wasn’t the type of person who knew how to mingle or speak to people in general. She liked to keep mostly to herself, so when she had the chance to go off alone she took the opportunity to go ice skating. It was starting off fine. She was skating as well as she could, but then she threw all caution to the wind and tried to pick up the pace. 

This, of course, resulted in her slamming into another body, sending them stumbling to catch themselves on the ice.

[stedfastasthou]

Jasper

Setting : Monday, January 7th, 1811. Mid-Morning. The Nightingale Estate. 

Closed starter for @stedfastasthou

Jasper was pacing — back and forth, back and forth, back and forth — in front of the large, north facing window at the forepart of his studio… Just when had he become the type to pace about? Were he to really consider the question, he’d come to the realization that he always had been the sort, but had become hyper aware of it due to his own anxiety. The first call of the season was finally at hand, not even a week after his arrival in London. It was not that he was nervous for the event specifically, for he had in his many seasons received enough “first calls” that they were now quite routine, but rather he was nervous about the visiting party — the Lady Westhorpe. 

He had nearly convinced himself that there was no real reason to be riddled with such nerves; after all Sophia was an old and precious friend. Why should a morning call with someone so dear to him cause such distress? A reunion was far overdue! But, then again, it had been a few years since their last encounter. He simply hoped, perhaps selfishly, that she had not outgrown him since their last meeting.

Teresa had been exiled from the home long ago, urged quite fervently by Jasper to go on a lengthy, languid stroll around London proper with her handmaid, Abigail. She had a rather ferocious tendency to be nosey, and her meddling spirit was the last thing he wanted ‘round the estate whilst Sophia made her call. 

Lost in thought, he almost missed the gentle rapping of knuckles against the study’s door frame entirely. “Excuse me, Mr. Nightingale.” The voice was small, polite, and belonged to one of the many maids employed at the estate. “The Countess of Westhorpe has arrived.” The announcement snapped him out of his trance, stopping in his tracks almost precisely in the middle of the room.

In that moment, his anxiety vanished, replaced by unadulterated joy.  “Lady Westhrope!” He exclaimed, what other’s would have deemed a bit too excitedly. “I would have greeted you at the door myself had I known precisely when you were to arrive.” Jasper smiled, warm and welcoming. “Please, come, come in! We have much to discuss!”

With a murmured acknowledgement of thanks to the young maid, Sophia handed her the bonnet she’d been loosening the ties of, certain that it would be placed into her ready hands as soon as she was about to leave again. That was how well run homes worked, and for all of Jasper’s personal scatteredness, the household ran exceptionally well. She waited until the girl had closed the door behind her, taking the time to step further into the familiar-yet-strange world of Mr. Nightingale’s studio. The room was, of course, unchanged, but the works scattered around it were a testament to the passage of time, change of style, development of his skill, even. Plus, so very, very Jasper in ever paint speckled inch.

Hearing the door click in the latch, she turned to smile at her old friend. “Please, Jasper, we both know you would have either be hanging about the door for a half hour before hand, or forgotten the time all together, lost in some portrait study,” she teased him fondly. Taking him in with the same observant eye as his studio had endured,  she folded her hands in front of her. “You look well. Your ever ascendant star in the artistic world of London has done you well. I’m sure you would have no time for silly Miss Kidd anymore, and it is only the merits of the Countess of Westhorpe that could possibly command your interest.” Entirely joking, harkening to the old, long past times of long nights spent posing and sketching, poetry and wine flowing as quick as paint.

“Where is safe to sit,” she asked, more pratically. “Or was this frock doomed the moment I set foot through that door?”

[stedfastasthou]

style yourself as a lady who knows everything

[stedfastasthou]

eira.

Flashback- Tuesday October 2nd, 1810

When he had left and the two ladies were finally alone, Eira bit her lower lip nervously, her hands clutched together in front of her. It had been years since she had had to behave properly, and she knew it would be a challenge. “Lady Westhorpe, do you really think it’s possible to fool everyone, all of society into thinking that I am a proper young miss? I know he is convinced that this is the best option, and you are incredibly gracious, but could it truly work? What is your plan?” 

Truthfully, she wanted to run from the room, out the door and to follow his carriage, on foot if necessary. It made her heart ache to be away from him even for an hour. The idea of trying to find a husband other than him was un​fathomable. She was unable to hide how bereft she felt, but as she turned her glance from the doorway back to Lady Westhorpe, she tried to fake a smile even as a tear fell down her cheek. 

@stedfastasthou​​

Off in a whirlwind as ever, leaving Sophia with the wake of his messes. He was lucky she still carried some fondness for him after all these years, though whether any would remain after this monumental mess he’d dragged her into remained to be seen. At least the girl spoke eloquently enough.

Proving that that accomplishment wasn’t entirely necessary, at least in private, Sophia snorted and turned to collapse back onto the sofa of the drawing room, ringing a bell for fresh tea. And something sweet, she thought. Best inform cook as soon as possible of the new household addition as well— so much to do all at once. Knowing all that didn’t mean she had a plan together, so much. How to rescue a girl from complete ruin? Besides swearing so many to deadly silence.

There was a slight spike of irritation as she observed the girl again. She had to allow for some maudlin emotions at such a parting (he always could be such a brute). Reaching out, she gestured for the girl to step forward. “I’ve fooled all of society once. With you I shall start with a stronger foundation at least.” She had been a lady, once, after all.

“Dresses are the obvious start, of course. His tastes are fashionable, of course, but not entirely suited for a proper young miss.” Standing again, she circled the girl. “The usual pastels, but off set with deep accent colours so you’re not completely washed out. What sort of ‘accomplishments’ have you retained from your childhood?” She couldn’t entirely help her smile. Rather like marshaling an army, she thought.

[stedfastasthou]

It’s Meme Time, folks. Every weekend (or at sporadic times because we love surprise memes), the main will post memes for muses to reblog on their accounts. When you reblog the meme, you are accepting asks from it and also sending asks to others who have also reblogged it. Feel free to ask and answer whenever you want to, and they’re not restricted to the weekend! [Feel free to post any of your own memes as well! But you know that you can rely on us for meme fun. We gotchu. Tag is ll.meme]

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ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ɢᴏᴅ

aphrodite what do you find most attractive in a person? (physical and personality wise) apollo what do you love about art? ares what’s the thing that makes you angriest? artemis what are your feelings on hunting? athena what’s a fun fact that you know that others might not? chronus what do you hate about time? demeter what’s your favorite flower? dionysus what’s your favorite drink? (alcoholic or not) eros how would you describe love? hades what’s your favorite thing about winter? hephaestus do you feel that you are a hard worker? hera what’s something you want in a marriage/relationship? hermes where would you like to travel on a month-long trip? hestia what’s something you enjoy about your family? hypnos do you have a favorite dream? persephone are you indecisive? poseidon what do you most love about the ocean? thanatos what do you think about death? zeus what’s your favorite type of weather?

[stedfastasthou]

It’s Meme Time, folks. Every weekend (or at sporadic times because we love surprise memes), the main will post memes for muses to reblog on their accounts. When you reblog the meme, you are accepting asks from it and also sending asks to others who have also reblogged it. Feel free to ask and answer whenever you want to, and they’re not restricted to the weekend! [Feel free to post any of your own memes as well! But you know that you can rely on us for meme fun. We gotchu. Tag is ll.meme]

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𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗯𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 prompts featuring nonverbal scenarios. [ send the following starter prompts to a muse to start a thread ] 

guide take them by the hand, arm, or shoulder to guide them.

shelter protect them.

shove push them.

loop drape an arm around their shoulders.

touch a gentle touch like rubbing their back, hugging them, holding their hand.

kiss a kiss on the cheek, knuckles, forehead, in their hair.

palm smack them upside the head.

bed rest gently push them back down when they try getting out of bed.

aid help them with a task.

note pass a note to them.

cry wipe away their tears.

wash wipe something off their forehead, cheek, so on.

bandage patch them up when they get hurt.

heal take care of them when they get sick.

book silently read a story with them.

carry pick them up.

scrap punch them.

cherry find blood on them.

sit help them sit down.

medical wake up in the hospital and find them holding their hand.

steer place a hand under their chin to make them look up.

beat dance with them.

stare stare them down.

off track get lost with them.

no shaking their head in disagreement.

yes nodding their head in agreement.

rush tackle them to the ground.

open hold the door open for them.

[stedfastasthou]

jnightingale​:

the gardens beyond the conservatory, the bennetton regatta ball.

sometime between dances.   |   @stedfastasthou

quiet, finally. 

jasper had trailed far enough away from the conservatory that the chattering and laughter that had previously overrun his senses died down to nothing more than a dull hum in the distance. the silence of the gardens — save for, of course, the rustling of tree branches and the occasional call of various night time creatures — was a more than welcome break. it allowed him to bask in the moonlight, propped against the cool railing wrapping around a small pond; to simply take it all in. 

if he hadn’t seen her reflection bounce off the surface of the water, rippling and gleaming on the crystalline surface, he was sure he would have missed her being entirely, enraptured in his own solitude. he was … glad he hadn’t. 

his gaze fell onto hers, and he smiled instinctively — languid and wholly influenced by the punch sitting warm in his stomach.  

“lady westhorpe,” he straightened immediately, making a half-effort to smooth what wrinkles may have materialized on his coat during his brief moment of relaxation. “i had not expected to encounter anyone beyond the limits of the conservatory … not now, at least. we are at the height of the evening, are we not? … would it be rude of me to ask why you’ve made your way out here?” such inquisitiveness, from someone also found straying from the group. however, the irony was lost to jasper. 

During a ball, seeking out some solitude almost inevitably meant encountering someone else doing the same. Sometimes this coalesced into nothing more than a knowing smile and a silent agreement to take different paths to still quieter corners. Other times it resulted in the sort of torrid encounter that the scandal sheets thrived on. Yet others still lead to a peace between two people. Two old friends, even.

That was what Sophia looked for as she turned to the so familiar voice, giving a soft chuckle. “Mr. Nightingale,” she greeted with a teasing emphasis on the formal address.”Where as I would expect to find you no place else but the remote, hidden pockets in these gardens. Seeking out the inspiration for your latest masterpiece? Observe how the light plays off the water, off the leaves, an echo of the twinkling stars above bouncing all around us. Rather here than dimmed in the light of the paper lanterns, hmm?” Her hands fluttered with gestures before coming to rest on the railing as she joined him at the water’s edge.

A quiet passed, only broken before it became awkward by Sophia saying in a low voice, “It is strange to hear you call me that.” It shouldn’t have been; after all, it had been years since she had taken up the title, well worn and familiar to her now. Yet they’d barely met at all in those times, occupied with lives that marched endlessly on. Not in person at least. Even when she was Mrs. Grisham, they’d met infrequently, with all his travel and growing demand as an artist. No, in her mind she heard him call her Miss Kidd, or even Sophia. Yet it had been a long, long time since then.

“Have we grown too old to be comfortable with easy familiarity, Mr. Nightingale? I assure you I would not object to it.” That playful smile that never left her was turned on him. “It is good to see you again. And far overdue.”

[stedfastasthou]

isabella.

When the Countess turned Bella’s comment against her, bella instantly took a liking to the woman’s wit. “Well, lovely insofar that I am not in trouble. I seem to be attracting that as of late. My own doings, of course.” The words slipped out before Bella could stop her tongue from revealing her true thoughts. Perhaps it was the smile from the red-headed woman that put her suddenly far more at ease. Shutting her mouth instantly with a face that strove to feign innocence as much as she could manage, she sat down in tandem with the Lady Westhorpe. 

“There have been many visitors, though I admittedly have only so much patience before I cannot accept anymore calls for the day.” Bella found herself simply telling the truth on the matter. “According to my Mother, the fight at the Ball under any other occasion would have deterred callers. But the Queen’s good favour seems to be taken as gospel.” She pointed to a pamphlet of Lady Whistledown that lay on a side table. “It also does not hurt when a certain lady describes you as potential for the incomparable.” Though she said so bluntly, Bella did not intend it as a boast. Her good performance at the Ball was more than naught a fluke. Further, she was fortunate that out of all of her shenanigans throughout the Ball, it was merely the fight between her brother and Byron that took precedence.

“Friendship?” So Bella was not, in fact, in trouble. Relieved yet curious, the brunette smiled in anticipation, as she tried to read the redhead’s calm expression. “My heart is always open for more friends, though I am afraid of what impression I may have left, especially to one as sharp as yourself, my Lady.”

Following the girl’s gestures, Sophia reached for the pamphlet with a wry nod. “Indeed, social graces have been blessed upon you, whatever the shortcomings of your brother and, ah, friend.” Incomparable was a praise indeed, even coming from the pen of some total unknown with the audacity to start spilling observations, even ‘secrets’, of lofty society. Flipping open the paper, she scanned it, and then discarded it just as quickly. Gossips came and went, riding and printing the words that inevitably flew about even without their pages.

Bella looks like she could even support the title, if given a chance. There was a freshness to her that so many debutantes, pinched, prodded and sculpted into the form of fashion for the year, lacked. Let alone those who had seen so many seasons as to be old hats at it now.

“That of a young girl with a beleaguered mother,” bringing out multiple daughters at once was a task no one could possibly envy. “And an elder brother even more out of his depth that he can fathom. Who does no favours to keep himself afloat.” Potentially harsh criticism of the man, but delivered kindly enough, with understanding. “Your family has had much to mourn recently. You have my sympathy. And my offer of help. In whatever form you need it.” Again, her mother had her hands full, while Sophia’s were alarmingly empty with still reduced social profile after her absence, and years to go before she needed to nurse the ground for Eleanor.

“Though I understand such friendships cannot be so easily plunged into. Perhaps you and your mama would care to join me in my carriage for tomorrow Promenade?”

[stedfastasthou]

💌 + what have you enjoyed most about the Regatta?

“The boat ride to the gardens was a lovely, if uneventful, way to spend an afternoon. I’ll admit to being pleasantly surprised that no ladies went overboard. There’s usually always at least one.

      . . .  what about Bella?” deep sigh

[stedfastasthou]

💌 who do you want to kisssss

“Impertinent little mouse, aren’t you?”

 Seeing as I shall not be rid of you without some sort of answer, have this. There are some old acquaintances whom I would happily embrace and some startling new blooms I wouldn’t shy from sampling.”

[stedfastasthou]

💌 Who would you most like to marry?

“My late husband. 

       —oh, do you mean for a second marriage? Whatever gave you the idea that I was on the search for such a thing?”

[stedfastasthou]

💌 who among the Ton do you think would be good fathers and why?

“I believe Lord Houghton has proven himself to be a good father. The rest of them have yet to demonstrate any particular streak that would incline them to fatherhood, let alone being good at the occupation.

          —Mercifully (at least from the perspective of their future offspring), that is what nannies, governesses, and tutors are for. They barely need to parent at all.”

[stedfastasthou]

💌 which eligible bachelor do you think will propose first?

“I am not sure I have seen evidence of any of our gentlemen of the season being so inclined or able to propose, as of yet.”

[stedfastasthou]

Eira​.

Daydreaming of just such a happiness had become so common to Eira that she was quite certain that if it ever did happen, she would believe she was yet dreaming. Sophia’s touch to her hand surprised her, given their location, for while she would admit their friendship if asked, Eira knew that associating with her was not the best thing for anyone’s reputation. 

So surprised and pleased by the invitation, Eira did not even notice her friend’s evasion of the question she had posed to her. “Oh! I should like that very much. I am honored to accept, assuming nothing drastic happens to change my situation before then.”, she joked softly. “You must be right in that. If I keep my hopes low, it is easier to avoid disappointment.” 

“Not low,” Sophia corrected gently. “Merely realistic.” High flying fantasies of leaping from the questionable class into the lofty ranks of the peerage belonged in novels, not the real world they lived in. “And changed situation or not, you are always invited.” Whether as disreputable friend or newly-wed wife of anyone from a shoe maker to the Prince of Wales himself, Eira would be welcome.

Another brief press of her hand, and a smile before Sophia began to pull away. “Tea, soon,” she said. “The twins will want to see you. Happy hunting tonight.”

- Fin -

[stedfastasthou]

✿

“Her masterful playing of the societal game.”

[stedfastasthou]

✿

“Her vivacity and eagerness for life, even as it gets her in trouble.”

[stedfastasthou]

archibald.

Well then – always good to see well-mannered children – especially if he were not solely responsible for their, hrm, well-being.  He smiled back, pleased, before attempting a spoonful himself of his own. 

Only to almost choke at the question.  “Ev-eventful – yes. Oh yes.” The taste barely registered, and he was not sure whether the chill was from the sweet treat or- or memories of the ball.  “Tell me, are- are balls usually – like –”  He darted a glance at the young Westhorpe, before lowering his voice, “– that? I say, a brawl is one thing – but in public! Among gentlemen! And I heard - a lady actually stepped in herself? Where was her- her chaperone?”

He frowned at his teacup; set the spoon aside – just as he set his own, hrm, less-than-stellar behavior that night aside.

“But yes – did you know, Her Majesty recalled her ambassador from France? I had the, hrm, dubious pleasure of meeting him – however briefly.”

“I believe her chaperone was one of the involved parties,” Sophia said with a dry smile. “Deeply unfortunate for the girl, but alas. Hotheaded men.” Men who clearly needed a few rounds with their mistresses before being allowed out in public, clearly. “I assure you, they are not usually so exciting. Often we must content ourselves with the excitement of a debutante with a ‘twisted’ ankle.” And which of the ever helpful beaus she turned to for assistance to some sofa.

“I did encounter him briefly as well,” she said with a small nod. “He seemed to be fluttering to and fro all evening. Rather busy for his majesty’s emissary supposedly on a holiday from duty, no?” Still, she leaned forward slightly. “Anything usefully gleaned from the encounter, or shall we search elsewhere for aid?”

Thomas looked mildly interested at the whiff of intrigue, but not so much that he was about to stop eating his ice cream.