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[dorottyacrow]

Dear Lord Mowbray,

I appreciated your letter very much and am relieved to know that we are both of the purest intentions regarding our friendship. Fortunately, both my mother and sister are aware that the rumors are false but the ton is still fast to cast judgments. I do not see why, surely, there is more interesting material to read. I could name a few novels quite easily, especially if it is scandal that causes interest. I just finished reading Voltaire’s Candide and I should say it has enough to make those patronesses faint, though I might not recommend it, it was rather sordid and depressing. 

We’ve had several invitations revoked in light of Lady Whistledown but I am hopeful all will be forgotten soon, it is not as if there’s any truth to the rumor to keep it alive. Perhaps your kindness in correcting those who have mentioned it to you will help the matter resolve itself more quickly.

I would also like to continue our discussion from the dance. I intend to meet with Mr. Wyatt soon, I understand you are on better terms, hopefully I might gain some insight through him prior to our meeting. As for where you and I shall meet or how we shall manage it apart from prying eyes, I am not sure. For myself I’m not concerned, I have no great intentions this season but my sister does and I do not wish to cause her more harm. Perhaps you know some eligible for her?

Pardon my rambling, I shall be glad to meet where you suggest.

Most sincerely,

14th August, 1800

Dear Miss Crow, 

I pray do not mind my unprompted correspondence, it is only that I thought it more appropriate to write than to call upon you under the circumstances. It seems London is even more unpleasant than I remembered, as it now provides refuge for a Lady Whistletown, or some other. I did not read the publication until more than one gentlemen found it suitable to congratulate me on my early pursuit. Upon finding a copy of the cursed paper, I was quite appalled to find that this is what our English brethren consider as literature: hopped up farces of no credibility. The short of it is that I quickly and effectively set the record straight. 

And I wished to make it clear to you that my intentions are nothing but pure and admirable, Miss Crow. You are the sister of my dear departed friend, and I ask for nothing from you but a sense of kinship. I hope that you feel the same, and that the consequences of Whistletown’s distasteful circulars. 

And in consideration of our conversation at the Colchester’s soiree, I would like to discuss the topic further. Perhaps when we are not dancing, and away from the eyes of the ton. If this interests you, please respond in kind. 

With regards, 

Lord C. Mowbray

@dorottyacrow

[dorottyacrow]

@lady-castleton​​

What a relief to have made at least one true friend at the Soiree. She was glad for Lady Castleton’s standing invitation to the modiste after so many other invitations had been withdrawn. She realized too that perhaps she had been wrong to assume her so jaded, the implications Whistledown put out about her and Lord Mowbray were perfectly absurd. 

She also could not help but be excited to look at dresses, her fashion was . . . Eccentric, to be kind, but something she still quite enjoyed. True to her words, she was not dressed in white that evening but instead a bright blue.

Only a few minutes were spent waiting before the dowager countess showed up but then, Dot had arrived early, too. For someone who had imbibed as much as she had at the party the night prior, she was far from lethargic. A grin swept across her features and she bounced slightly, coming over to her once she was out of her carriage. “Oh, it’s so good to see you! Have you been well? Did you know they’re hosting an event tonight? I only peeked inside, I got here just a couple minutes ago, there’s even sweets.” 

[dorottyacrow]

@lcnewolf​​

Dot had heard rumors going around about a Sidney Wyatt party which she had not received an invitation to. Invitations to the Crow family had been scarce since Whistledown but she didn’t buy that Mister Wyatt would avoid them for that. He claimed to be her friend so why wasn’t she invited? It was rude, and Dot was annoyed, and bored of the monotonous days spent promenading and cozying up to people of title to earn their good graces again. From what she’d heard, a Sidney Wyatt party was just what she needed.

She snuck out, something she hadn’t ever done except to meet a lady under her mother’s nose, although . . . As things turned out once she did arrive, she was meeting a lady, anyway. Ladies. All of them unchaperoned, including herself, she had never seen such a party! It only vexed her more that she wasn’t invited but the urge to confront Mister Wyatt had left her once she began chatting with one particular lady, Miss Brynn. Chatting had ceased and things escalated faster than she’d ever had the fortune of so that before she knew it, they were hiding in a corner of the garden, all giggles and drunk affection. Dot was far from prude, had already had a couple of affairs back home but even those hadn’t been so fast to get to the point, it was thrilling. The entire party was, she wasn’t particularly hedonistic but . . . Well, she did mold herself to her surroundings well, and these surroundings were of a much different pace than the society balls her mother and Klara were so upset about losing invitations too.

She and Miss Brynn were far too close, far to wrapped up in each other for it to look anything but improper, and Dot’s head tipped back with a smile, drunk and exhilarated until–

“Oh, someone is coming,” Dot whispered, hearing footsteps. How unfortunate, they just barely stopped talking about horses, too. She pulled away from Miss Brynn and poked her head out from the shadows, spotting Mister Wyatt. Oh, that was why she had come after all, wasn’t it? To speak with him and maybe, if she was feeling bold, ask why he didn’t invite her. Miss Brynn held her hand and Dot had half the mind to just stay hidden with her, only – Well, they were spotted. 

“Mister Wyatt,” she greeted, offering a sheepish sort of smile since she had been caught red handed. She hadn’t intended for him to find her like this, she was meant to find him but, well . . . It was easy to become distracted in such an environment. “What time is it, do you know? I think I got here a while ago now, I meant to come and find you, you know, you really do throw rather unique parties. Have you met Miss Brynn? She was just telling me about her horses.” As indecent as they had been, she didn’t think Mister Wyatt would cause her any problems given the indecent tone of the entire party in the first place.

[dorottyacrow]

winifrcd​

Coincidence upon coincidence! Winifred felt jumpy, excited at just how much she and the mystery girl had in common. Perhaps it was fate that they’d both been browsing for books that day. Yes, no doubt - they were destined to be friends. And how, how desperate Winifred was for a companion, now that all her sisters had moved out. “A brother, too? Is it difficult, having not only sisters but a brother as well? I can only imagine…my sisters are such a handful by themselves….”, she trailed off, and , a little more solemnly, added: “Well, they were. I’m the youngest, yes, and the only one left I’m afraid. My dear sister Elizabeth got married last autumn so they’ve all moved out of our family home. I am left, yet to be married. “

Though, Winifred would happily sit another couple seasons out - she wasn’t exactly too desperate to get married this soon. How quickly the other seemed to lift her mood, with just a little nice remark. Dowling - darling. Winifred chuckled, blushed a little, even. “Delighted to meet you, too! Oh, Dorrotya  - what a lovely name! I’ve never heard it before. “

-

She pursed her lips together when asked about her brother and shook her head. “No, he was all of our favorite, honestly. Of course brothers can squabble just like sisters but he was so much older than me that I rarely had to deal with any of that, myself. Sisters are much more troublesome. Well, one in particular, I have an older sister who isn’t yet married and you’d think it’s my fault with how much she bickers with me. I suppose it’s not easy to have a younger sister about to come out when you’re still unmarried, though she really has no competition from me.” Not least because they had entirely different inclinations and besides, she wasn’t there for a match. She was only excited to join society.

“It’s Hungarian,” she explained, “my mother is Hungarian, but you know, you can call me Dot if you’d like? Plenty of people do.” 

[dorottyacrow]

lcnewolf​

Sidney inhaled slowly, a bit taken aback that his behavior was being scrutinized and relayed back to him by this young lady. Imre always kept his sisters from him, which Sidney did not blame him for, but it was hardly necessary when Sidney’s focus at the time had been on Imre alone, anyway. He wondered if all of the Crow sisters were so… vexing.

“I am not a young lady and so I can afford to be unfriendly,” he sat flatly. “But I am grateful for your forgiveness, even if I think you have a right to be cross with me.” A small smile, then, as he tried to reel in his annoyance. It was in his best interest to keep on Dorottya’s good side, and yet he was finding it difficult to turn on the charm.

It was as if a cloud hung over him, as speaking to her inevitably brought up thoughts of Imre.

He took a long drink.

“Since we are friends, allow me to give you some friendly advice.” He nodded toward the dance floor. “Stay away from Lord Timpton. He is a soulless lecher and he does not respect the boundaries of society. Make friends with Lady Mulgrave.” He couldn’t believe he was saying that, but if he were a lady new to Town, Lady Mulgrave would be the first person he would try to befriend. “She has a low opinion of me but I think you are a better judge of character.” He smiled, glancing back down at her.

“If you ever find yourself in trouble, I will take care of it.” Across the room by the plant where he was exchanging notes, he saw Effingham drop yet another note into the leaves. He wanted to get to it before Conrad. “I must take my leave. Good evening, Dorottya.” With a short bow, he disappeared into the crowd.

end!

[dorottyacrow]

lady-castleton​

Miss Crow smiled and the world smiled back, and she was no exception. “We must see you in colors as soon as possible then,” she said, laughter in her voice. “And you can help me be brave in return. I am not used to seeing anything but blacks and grays in my closet, let alone on my person.”

She glanced around them then, noting the clusters of people still watching and the less discreet among them outright pointing at their masks and feathers. 

Where were Mrs. Henley and Mrs. Crow? 

“A few weeks should be plenty of time to visit the modistes. We must take advantage of the London tailoring before having to disappear back into the country after all. Would you mind if I sent an invitation? Your mother of course would also be invited.”

Finally. Her companion approached, trailing another lady behind her. There was a momentary flash of regret, of having to step away from the young lady’s sunlight presence. 

“Here she comes now. Please say yes; you too are my first acquaintance this Season.” 

end!

[dorottyacrow]

💭 + Louisa~

Warm, beautiful, jaded

[dorottyacrow]

💭 (Conrad)

Considerate, serious, Imre

[dorottyacrow]

☁️ (winifred)

THE FIRST THREE WORDS THAT COME TO MY CHARACTER’S MIND AT THE THOUGHT OF YOURS:

Charming, Philosophical, smiling

[dorottyacrow]

💭

THE FIRST THREE WORDS THAT COME TO MY CHARACTER’S MIND AT THE THOUGHT OF YOURS.

Funny, Scottish, Klara (bonus: she still wonders if he and Klara courted)

[dorottyacrow]

💭 ( Margaret! )

THE FIRST THREE WORDS THAT COME TO MY CHARACTER’S MIND AT THE THOUGHT OF YOURS.

Kind, intelligent, regret

[dorottyacrow]

To Lady Margaret Mulgrave:

I received your letter just as I was beginning to pen mine, the one I promised you at the soiree. It seems for the best as what I had been writing was far too wordy.

You do indeed seem to be correct about the viciousness of some people here. I do not know what I’ve done to deserve such a public shaming but for myself, I am fine. I do not require the approval of patronesses or a pure name for my hopes going out of this season or for the seasons to come. 

Klara is far more upset, we have been bickering all afternoon but I remain hopeful the rumors will soon be forgotten. You are right to assume that what was implied was false. Lord Mowbray and I only danced and spoke entirely of my late brother who was a friend of his. You know as well that I could not have inclinations for him.

As for the letter I had originally been writing; I meant only to apologize. I am glad to see you have recovered from my talking but it weighs heavy on my heart the pain I have caused you. I had no ill will, was only too naive and loose with my tongue. I hope, one day, you might find it possible to forgive me. Your friendship is sorely missed.

Thank you for your kind words, I shall await the invitation eagerly.

Your old friend,

To Miss. Dorottya Crow:

Although our conversation was brief at the Soirée, I will admit I was surprised to see your name already scribbled on Lady Whistledown’s condemnation sheet. I hope now that you will take my advice to heart for the future season to come.

Though several Patronesses would have me turn my nose at you and yours, I never much liked their advice. Nor do I think the rumors towards you or Mr. Mowbray to be particularly true. Let us visit more properly at Blen Nuneham when the Season is properly at its end.

You will get an invitation from me when all is settled.

Be well,

@dorottyacrow​

[dorottyacrow]

conradmowbray

He could see it on her face, the way a gentle, almost cautious, hope fell into a darkened disappointment, bitter and familiar. His stomach clenched, and he tasted bile. Conrad had not talked about Imrw in nearly two years, had not allowed himself to speak his suspicions about the death of his friend. But much like Dot, the thoughts had plagued him, had snuck into his dreams and crowded his thoughts when he’d had a bit too much to drink. It all revolved around the same understanding: that there was simply no world in which Imre Crow took his own life– he was practically a purveyor of this whole damn orchestra. 

The man looked away, unable to stomach the look upon her face. It did not help that his heartbreak was so closely tied to guilt. The guilt of not being more aware of his friend’s position, of making a spectacle out of his funeral, of failing to apologize or check in the Crow family in the wake of his death… A small part of him was still afraid, still tempted to run from the feeling of it all. 

Conrad forced himself to look at Dot, working the muscle of his jaw as he attempted to find the right words. His question wasn’t a shock. He had asked himself the same thing, gone through the same machinations, trying to make it all make sense. “No, it doesn’t.” He said carefully, “But Miss Crow…” Conrad lowered his voice, moving the pair a little further from the other’s on the dance floor. “But to suggest anything else is to suggest foul play. Murder. And not only that, but a murder that was artfully covered up– not some, some robbery gone awry. So, before we speak any further about this, I want to be sure you realize the gravitas of such a claim…”

-

Something had shifted, she felt it when she watched Conrad look away and then had it confirmed when he moved led them towards a quieter place on the dance floor. The change took her by some surprise and she found herself glancing down at her feet, making sure not to step on him again. It wasn’t her biggest concern, given the conversation, but she’d still like to avoid it.

Her thoughts were torn from her feet, though, when Conrad began to speak once more. She pursed her lips and looked away, brows pressed together. She swallowed and shook her head. “It’s only a question,” she insisted, not a claim. But she understood his point, even if she did not want to believe that her poking around was such a big deal. After all, the only people she had to speak to about it were Lord Mowbray and Mister Wyatt. She trusted Lord Mowbray and although Mister Wyatt had been rude, she didn’t think Imre would have been friends with him if he were dangerous. 

“Of course I know it’s serious,” she conceded, her voice gentle though still ringing with disappointment. She looked back at Conrad. “And I know that maybe it’s nothing and we just. . .” didn’t know Imre as well as they thought, but she shrugged instead of voice such bitter words. 

“Whatever happened, I want to understand it.” The dance was coming to an end, she realized, and she drew in a breath. “Perhaps you can help me, if you’re willing. I have more questions than a dance can contain.” And likely, she had learned, more than Conrad could answer.��

[dorottyacrow]

lady-castleton

No, Miss Crow was no crow or swan, too excitable, too joyful by far. Her suggestion of a songbird was far more apt, trilling notes and bobbing from branch to branch as the younger woman described the scene before them. 

People caged songbirds and kept them isolated, to entertain on demand. 

The dark turn of her thoughts scared even her and completely distracted her from the conversation (had Miss Crow asked a question?). She resolved to join her companion on cheerful observation.

“In love and wed happily ever after? I would like to see that. It would be like in the fairytales, don’t you think?” 

She could not help but look for any hint that the lady’s giggling was forced, or that the gentleman was perhaps less gentle than his title would have people suppose. 

Cheerful observation, she reminded herself, finding it easier to do when watching the delight Miss Crow clearly took from the event. 

“But you are not after a happily ever after, are you, Miss Crow? Joining Society. That seems a far more sensible goal to me. What events are you looking forward to the most? I always thought trying on all the fine dresses and gloves and shoes was the best part.”

The world through her veil was varying shades of gray, down to the head to toe black she wore.

“I might need your fondness for brighter colors to help me though, given how long I’ve been wearing just black. Will you be in Town long? With you not yet being out, I wouldn’t want to presume.”

-

She smiled and nodded, agreeing entirely that joining society was the more exciting thing. She had no aversion to marriage in principle, perhaps she’d change her mind down the line, but for now she was happy to be unattached. 

“I am excited for the dresses,” she admitted with a sheepish sort of smile, “and the company. You know, now that I think of it, you’re one of the first new people I have met? Certainly the first for this evening, at least.” Her smile widened into a grin and she looked back at Lady Castleton, clearly glad that was the case.

At the mention of her clothing, how she arrived in mourning attire to a soiree, Dot nearly had to pinch herself not to pry. She had even opened her mouth, brows pressed, and then closed it and recomposed herself. It didn’t take long to do.

“Well, if we should meet again you’ll see me in more bright colors, that I can promise. Not white like this if I can help it.” A bright green, or yellow, or pink, anything that she found striking enough. Sure, white could be argued to be the brightest of them all but did it really count as a color? It certainly wasn’t colorful, which Dot would much prefer to brightness.

Realizing she hadn’t quite answered the countess’s question, she let out an awkward little laugh under her breath. “But I will be here a few more weeks,” she said, “until the season is out and then I shall return to Oxfordshire with my mother and sister.”

[dorottyacrow]

It had been an interesting first soiree, to say the least. Her feathers and mask made a statement and she spent the evening giving her name away and scratching her cheeks, which were irritated thanks to that mask. The scratchiness didn’t keep her from having a lovely time but she was still somewhat relieved that the evening was drawing to a close.

Out in the gardens, she took the excuse that privacy offered she took the excuse to lift her mask once more, only to drop it again when she heard a man shout from nearby. Oh, blast? Dot walked around the hedges, spotting the gentleman and the subsequent bees buzzing around the roses.

“Are you alright? Here.” She reached out, taking his wrist and drawing him away from the rose bushes, as well as the bees. “Wouldn’t want his friends to come for you next, does it hurt? I . . . You know, I read it in a book once, did you know people can die from a bee sting? Not that you would, you seem to have a stronger disposition than that.”

Gardens of Colchester House | @dorottyacrow​

    The last thing Peter had expected after patching up a fellow party guest was the hoard of Mamas that had hounded him over a plain lie in Whistledown. He could not recall the last time he had felt so utterly helpless.When fleeing the scene, he did not pay attention to which direction he was running and now found himself in the middle of the back gardens of Colchester House.

Not wanting to expose himself to any more maternal rage, he decided that the gardens would be a good hiding spot until the soiree’s end. As he rounded the corner, the most beautiful rose bush caught his eye. They were pinkish-red and in perfect bloom. Roses being his Grandmama’s favorite, Peter supposed it would not be a crime to pick a few for her, as a souvenir of the party she could not attend. Humming, he stood on his toes and inspected each branch, careful not to catch a thorn. His hums however were soon replaced by perhaps the loudest buzz of a bee’s wings he had ever heard.

“I’ll be quick, good sir.” Peter whispered in the insect’s direction, silently pleading to not come face to face with it. Unfortunately for him, the bumble bee shot out of the bush flew into his neck. Instinctively, Peter’s hand rose up to slap it and was brought down by an angry sting to his palm.

“Oh, BLAST!” As he recovered from the assault, he spotted a female form rushing in his direction. He stepped back, sputtering.

@dorottyacrow​

[dorottyacrow]

🙊 what would my muse say their biggest flaw is

and

⧱ what really is my muse’s biggest flaw

Dot would say her biggest flaw is that she's a gossip, she knows she's hurt people who were once her friends because she can't keep her mouth shut.

Her actual biggest flaw is that she has a tendency to romanticize everything (people, herself, the world at large) which has made her very comfortable in her denial. She doesn't literally deny things if they're staring her in the face but she does try to push it away and go on as though it isn't a thing when she can. When she can't, she can get very fixated and start picking at that thing, hoping to fit it back into a box where it won't bother her anymore or ruin the idealized vision she would like to maintain about the world.

[dorottyacrow]

🍰

🍰 what’s my muse’s guilty pleasure?

Gossiping. She doesn't mean to share things she shouldn't but it feels so good to get secrets off her chest and then it's equally as exciting to learn about something she's not supposed to know.