henry-etta

[henry-etta]

Etta nearly stops in surprise at the comment, not having heard it in quite some time. Most of the ton has gotten used to the odd duchess, but she has to admit that she may be getting a small kick out of humbling Tedros for the mistake— not that she'd ever hold a grudge. "Not to worry, Sir Toussaint," she assures, shaking it off with a wave of her hand and a breathy laugh she can't stop from falling off her lips. "I am well aware the styling is unusual, I shouldn't be so surprised by the comment, but please forgive the laughter," Etta tells him, then remembers belatedly why she'd stopped him. "Have I bothered you for no reason today, is this shilling not yours?"

tedros strolls along as he does — long limbed and self assured — down the streets so nearby ladies may swoon over him and so that young boys may admire him. therefore, due to the leisurely purpose to his walks: his pockets remain empty. unless, of course, the heir decides to charge a treat or two to their tab.

he looks over his shoulder once, careless due to his pride — "you're mistaken, little boy.”

tedros realizes his error like a sharp ice bath. he gives the sharpest intake of breath as he turns. he’s still confident that she is mistaken, but he is embarrassed by his own error.

“forgive me, my lady—” he gives a bow, swiftly bending with his hand to his chest. “i… so few ladies wear their hair so short and unbound. i am… embarrassed to have insulted you so.”

[henry-etta]

"And now me," she repeats back with a small nod and a grin. "Though, as I said before, I do believe you'll find yourself flush with friends soon enough. The park is possibly the best place to meet people, although it might be easier closer to the promenade and farther from the ducks, lovely as they are," Etta jokes as she shakes her hand. "Shall we talk a walk? Or do we need a little more time with the ducks? Either sounds acceptable to me."

𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 down at the aquatic birds, her face remains calm. "My family...has been absent for a couple of years now. We have recently arrived to the Ton, so I am regretful to say that I do not know a single English soul aside for these ducks." Her eyes then looked back up at the other woman. "And now, you." Stretching out her hand to meet her half way, her eyes gazing upward at the attractive woman. She could feel her face start to raise in temperature. "The pleasure is my own, Duchess."

[henry-etta]

"You're very welcome," she smiled back, and she thought for just a moment that there was something about this woman that felt maybe just a touch familiar. Not that Etta could recall ever seeing her before, just that a quality of hers felt recognizable. She shook it off, instead more intrigued with the faraway look in her eyes. "Are you positive?" Etta asked gently, not wanting to push it, but she was sure she would be thinking of her the rest of the day if there was something else she could do to brighten her day. "It would hardly be an imposition, in fact, I would welcome the company," she assured.

"Oh, thank you kindly, ma'am," she responded, a polite smile playing at her lips as she accepted the lost shilling. It wasn't just a coin; it was a symbol of her hard work and the lifestyle she chose. She cast a sideways glance at the Abbey Green, with its trees whispering secrets in the wind. "Your offer is generous," she said, her voice laced with sincerity. "But, I believe I can manage. I would never want to impose." A pang of yearning tugged at her heartstrings, a poignant reminder of the casual conversations she had once enjoyed. Back when she was still a lady. She pushed it aside, pressing a gracious smile onto her face. 

[henry-etta]

"Knighton," she corrects, with a friendly chuckle. "Though, I do wish I was the Duchess Kensington— she has such a lovely glimmer in her eye, does she not?" Etta turns back to him, and she wonders if somewhere, somehow, Lady Kensington's ears will burn from the compliment she's unaware is being given. Upon his response, she furrows a quizzical brow, looking down for the first time at the pamphlet in her hand, a myriad of claims to read through. Etta turns it over, curious more than anything to keep reading. "How exciting," she hums, "You would think surely such a miracle cure would in the equipment bag of every doctor around the world and not hidden like a secret here in Abbey Green. Or, not so secret?" she chuckles, holding up the pamphlet again. "What brings you out, Lord Ponsoby?"

abbey  green,    as  it  always  did,    absorbed  his  attention  for  far  longer  than  might  be  called  sensible:    everywhere  is  the  triumph  of  sight  and  sound;    hawkers  calling  out  their  wares,    talking  in  hyperbole  so  exaggerated  it  is  almost  a  wonder  that    —    for  example    —    disease  still  existed  when  mr.    hardyngg’s  miracle  serum  could  allegedly  cure  any  ailment  known  to  man,    including    (    but  perhaps  most  especially    )    male  pattern  baldness.    aloysius  is  fortunately  not  so  afflicted,    but  came  nearer  nevertheless:    a  cure  for  all  ailments,    you  say?    asking  as  if  he  was  a  researcher,    on  the  search  for  the  panacea  once  sought  by  newton  and  kelley,    and  from  this  hawker  could  come  the  solution  for  everything.    it  had  been,    truth  be  told,    a  charming  conversation    —    though  it  would  be  folly  to  even  believe  a  tenth  of  all  the  seller’s  claims    —    and  he  had  come  away  feeling  as  if  it  was  time  well  spent.    he  resolved  to  go  home,    pockets  filled  with  the  pamphlets  proclaiming  the  benefits  of  this  so-called  miracle  cure,    when  he  heard  the  voice  calling  out  to  him,    turning  ‘round  just  as  the  young  woman  closed  the  distance  between  them.    ❛    duchess  kensington?    ❜    he  asks,    voice  conveying  his  disbelief.    yet  he  doesn't  waste  his  time  asking    why  are  you  here?    instead  shaking  his  head,    before  greeting  her  with  a  smile.    ❛    that  copy  is  yours,    ❜    he  speaks,    hands  taking  out  the  folded  pieces  from  his  pockets:    almost  overflowing,    which  was  probably  why  the  slip  of  paper  had  come  away  so  easily.    ❛    it  pleases  me  to  inform  you  that  the  cure  for  everything  apparently  rests  undiscovered  and  underutilised  in  a  stall  in  abbey  green  in  our  fair  city  of  london.    ❜    he  adds.

[henry-etta]

"And you are most attentive to me— yes, I agree," Etta chimes in quickly, tilting her head towards her with bright blue eyes, getting an absurd amount of delight out of seeing that crease in Amelia's brow, the purse in her lips. It's strange, to be sure, considering she usually finds pleasure in seeing the gentle and earnest smiles of the ladies of the ton, but Amelia had always been so quietly oppositional towards her— always on her with her mistakes— that it had turned into something different for Etta. Still, there's something to be said about the way her attention sticks to the raven-haired girl like messy honey. "A picture is worth a thousand words, dear Amelia. And, I presume, hands-on experience must be a worth a million."

– "I DIDN'T SAY THAT," AMELIA REPLIES, bristling at etta's sarcasm. there's a brief pause to add : " – only that i seem to be more attentive than some people. " though it's a smokescreen, a way to act like she's not envious of how carefree etta seems to be. amelia's an observant person, notices the way etta seems to not have the certain stiffness in her shoulders, a smile that looks almost lazy. how does she do that ? and it's not like it affects amelia, so why does it bother her so much ? curiosity flashes across her own features briefly, and she's quick to steel it. " what do you mean – show me ? " amelia scoffs, " do you lack the ability to properly articulate ? "

[henry-etta]

Her lips purse in defiance, because now he's really triggered her impulses, egged on by a stupid dare like the child she is. Eventually, she huffs, turning to the side and crossing her arms like she's above it all, and wasn't just extremely tempted to not back down. "No matter, us ladies have far better things to discuss than you," Etta contends. He garners her attention again, however, by reciting the names of her latest infatuations and she quickly whirls around, ready to gossip despite the mockery in his tone. "Actually, the dowager duchess has no clue I've rekindled things with Lady Caroline, if you can believe it. As you can imagine, discreetness is my partner these days, so I can't just run around in the open sun like my name is Lord Cholmondeley," she smirks, ever so pleased with her retort. However, when he speaks again, Etta pauses, her brow creasing slightly. Sydney knows she tells Gabe most things, venting to her like a sister. To ask for her secrecy from her trusted housekeeper makes her think he truly means it, and suddenly she feels a little guilty for her comments on his discretion. "I swear it."

"I dare you," Sydney retorts, aware that it wouldn't be beneficial for either of them. "I'll gladly entertain a room full of beautiful women." Any discussion of him as their topic of choice, for better or for worse, exhilarates his ego. The worst shove from the pint-sized duchess wouldn't jostle him, but he shifts his weight to another foot with contact. "Bored? Have your friends bolted their doors at the sight of you?" Sydney returns the knock. "And what of Edith? Or was it Caroline this week?" The chisel in hand, he inspects its sharpness. It is hard to believe that God created neanderthals adept with such tools when Sydney feels daft just holding it. "First, details of this project remain between us. You mustn't tell even Gabriela. Swear it."

[henry-etta]

She recognizes the Countess of Warwick now that they've closed distance with each other, and Etta feels beyond relieved that she's been able to catch up to her and return her belongings. "No need for 'Your Grace' when we're among friends, Alice," she reminds her with an affectionate grin, though she knows the other girl will surely ignore the instruction. It isn't the first, or even the second or third, time after all, but she finds it rather endearing. Still, she'd be remiss not to at least remind her that Etta sees her as an equal. "Nonsense, I would have never forgiven myself if I could have spared you the turmoil of losing something of value to you and didn't act. Besides, you know how capable I am of taking care of myself," she assures her, and reaches over to gently grasp Alice's hand, turning it over face up. She places the pocket watch in her palm, and closes her fingers over it with her own. "There, safe and sound," Etta smiles at her. "And a joy to run into you today."

how horribly guilty does she feel as she finally snaps out of dreamingly thoughts, coming to term with a voice that was indeed calling for her attention, to come face to face with the duchess of knighton. ❛    oh my, your grace, pardon my clumsiness . .    ❜ while no strangers to one another, alice could never bring herself to grant the younger woman her wish to stop with the honorifics. there must be a stitch come loose in the purse she inspects — hastily, she does not want to be rude — darn, what a shame. how awkward would it have been to deliver a gift later on that had escaped her so easily. should she have been more attentive to her own surroundings rather than the buzz the abbey provided, none of it would be happening. covers a frustrated huff with a relieving inhale, most incredibly grateful for the pocket watch off the ground and in trusted hands instead. ❛    i am most grateful, thank you.    ❜ she hopes the item hasn't been too damaged in its fall. ❛ but you did not need to devote such haste, your grace. you could've shared its fate on the pavement. ❜ not a scolding, only genuine worry aplenty behind her voice. ❛    pardon me. it is a welcomed pleasure to see you.    ❜ forgetting a proper salutation, what a mess alice is.

[henry-etta]

"Your first?" she repeated, "I'm surprised someone as lovely as you has yet to make acquaintances, but I must admit I realize I have yet to see you around the ton until now." It wasn't out of the question at all for new families to arrive to London from the across the country, especially during the start of the season, but Etta put together the pieces in front of her and realized the girl must be from France, and she couldn't remember the last time she met a Frenchman. She seemed out of place, and at the very least, she hoped she could make her feel more comfortable. "Etta Eaton, Duchess of Knighton," she began, bending down and stretching her hand out to the girl. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss de Poitiers."

Emmeline let a closed-lipped smile show on her face as she took the baguette and tore some soft pieces off for the ducks. "These ducks would be my first friends in this country then. I am Emmeline. Emmeline de Poitiers. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting today?" She said as she looked at the other. The other's face was pleasing, even would make her blush if she wasn't so...aloof. Such in a dream-like state that made her disconnected from her feelings.

[henry-etta]

"And you're the perfect person for any duty, are you not?" Etta responds. The annoying thing is, she's almost right— Amelia's talents and intellect seem to stretch to any field they end up bickering about, and it drives Etta crazy. Just once she'd like to broach a subject the other girl knows nothing about. A thought occurs to her, and a roguish grin starts to form on her lips. "I could show you."

– "WELL, CLEARLY SOMEONE HAS TO," AMELIA RETORTS, " since you muck about before reconvening with polite society. how did you get that anyway ? " her hand hovers over etta's skirt briefly, because she thinks she's done a rubbish job tucking it. instinctively, amelia feels the urge to correct it – but she draws back quickly, curling her fingers into a fist.

[henry-etta]

Some days Etta finds it's just easier to move in the world with a pair of trousers on, though she does her best not to let her mother see in order to save herself the lecture. At the marketplace, it makes moving with comfort and speed so accessible that it's worth the handful of straying looks she gets. She finds it most helpful now, in fact, when she spots her friends looking in need of help, and is able to move to her side at the perfect moment. "With your friend, Lady Nightingale," Etta answers incredulously, like she's just struck her a fatal blow, though Dinah ought to be able to tell apart her teasing tone from one more serious. She extends her arm to her anyway, taking the lead in the interaction. "You'll have to excuse us both, we're late for an appointment— though that jade color is stunning," she interjects, eyeing the delicate looking ribbons he's displayed and is no doubt trying to sell for more than they're actually worth. Before she can be convinced otherwise, she starts leading the two away with haste in her step, lest they get lured in by any other stands.

"Would it be wrong to send a ladies maid to buy the ribbons he was selling— no, don't answer that, you're right," she sighs, answering for them both, knowing it would be foolish to reward that particular vendor's more forward tactics, but Etta's mind sometimes skip steps or runs a mile a minute. "By the way, what exactly are you doing out here all on your own? Not that I mind playing the role of your knight in shining armor," she jests, throwing Dinah a sparkling grin.

— 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 !

𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐇'𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 was right - she shouldn't run off by herself off her family's property. however , that never stopped her from just somehow wandering into the nearby market , eyes peeled for a new item to add to her collection. the scents , sights , and stories she gained by going to the market always brought her running despite her parent's wishes. today was no different , as dinah's yet again run off - but for good reason. an upcoming social occasion called for a new dress , something that dinah had decided called for an impromptu hunt for the best fabric in all of england. it wasn't long before her pursuits were interrupted by a vendor pestering her to buy their product. despite shutting them down rather bluntly , they continued to pester her for business. maybe it hadn't been the best idea to show up in some of her finer clothes , their intricate designs perhaps signaling far more wealth than was entirely true. whatever the reason , she can't seem to get the vendor to leave her own. fantastic. if it was up to her , she would've had a much more aggressive tactic to rid herself of them. but now that she'd entered society , and her father's recent pressures to marry looming over her head , she's trying to be less reactive. with so many more eyes on her now , it was much more important to control the hothead she tended to be. it seemed to be getting later by the second , and if dinah wanted any chance of getting her browsing done in time , she needed to rid herself of them. " oh good , you're here ! " she suddenly explains , cutting off whatever requests the vendor was exclaiming. " you must forgive me , it looks like i have to go. you see , i have some business with my ... with my ... ? " turning around to face them , her eyes express more than her words can , silently pleading for the other to play along. please , come up with something good.

[henry-etta]

"No apology necessary," she assured, dropping the coin into the other woman's outstretched palm, grateful that she was finally able to get her attention. She knew others might have thought it was too much ado for a single coin, but she had been learning through keeping up with her late father's estate that every penny counted. She could see it the woman's face that she agreed too. "I myself wouldn't have even noticed it falling out of your pockets if I hadn't been outside my own thoughts and wandering around the street," Etta admitted. "I'm only glad I managed to return the lost item to its owner. Are you needing any assistance for the rest of your errands?" she asked.

With her hands filled with a basket laden with necessary items for the lady she served, Laila walked leisurely along the paths of Abbey Green, which were paved with cobblestones. Being a lady's maid meant that her days were filled with ceaseless tasks, yet somehow, she found solace in running errands. It granted her the fleeting luxury of solitude. Her mind often wandered, revisiting her former life. Once, she had been a Lady, unburdened by servitude. However, she had willingly exchanged that existence for one marked by aprons rather than exquisite gowns. The prospect of marrying a man who resembled more of a grandfather than a suitor still sent shivers down her spine. She was grateful to have evaded such a fate, but oh, how she longed for her home.

Lost in the tumultuous sea of her thoughts, Laila's fingers slipped, causing a shilling to slip from her pocket. It was not until a voice disrupted her daydream that she realized her blunder. "Oh, dear heavens, I do apologize," she said, her cheeks turning crimson with embarrassment. She held out her hand for the coin as she nibbled on her bottom lip. "I am most grateful, my lady. I fear I must appear quite foolish, allowing my mind to wander so carelessly."

[henry-etta]

For a moment, Etta thought the words were directed at her, and she found herself in a short stump as she recognized the language, but not enough to actually understand what was being said. When her maid started to move, however, she realized it wasn't for her at all, and was relieved to know she wasn't just about to embarrass herself in a poor attempt to translate the French. She broke out a small grin, nodding towards the ducks in the pond again. "Perfect, I'm positive they'll be happy to make your friendship now," Etta chuckles.

𝕰mmeline was pulled from her deep trance when she heard the steps of another human approach the area she was in. She saw the other woman, a bit more athletic than herself. When asked about the bread, she actually had to think and apply her thoughts. "Oh, um..." She turned toward her maid. "Amélie! Avez-vous du pain pour nourrir les canards?" Her maid nodded and gave her a picnic basket that she had brought incase Emmeline got hungry. A baguette was in it and she sighed, thinking of home. "We do now."

[henry-etta]

Etta recognizes the voice, and her first instinct is to open her mouth in retort, but once she actually hears Amelia, she's stumped for a second as her gaze quickly flits down to the hem of her gown, noticing the exact spot in question. "Drat," she whispers, then tucks the stain away behind the other folds of her gowns, taking a step closer to the other girl both to help hide it and also to gain proximity. "Thank you for the keen eye, Amelia, I do love how you look out for me," Etta remarks, and throws in a sweet smile for good measure.

starter for etta. ( @henry-etta )

– "YOU HAVE DIRT ON YOUR GOWN," AMELIA REMARKS, coming up beside etta in the hall. it's not that she'd been looking, particularly, but such a transgression is difficult not to notice. still, to ensure this remark isn't percieved as paying too much attention to the duchess, she adds, " people have been talking. "

[henry-etta]

open ; location: abbey green

Etta typically delights in taking strolls about town when allowed. Of course she's chaperoned by some ladies maids, though they've been around the estate long enough to know her and trust her, and vice versa. She doesn't feel stifled or controlled when she's with people from her manor, as long as it's not her mother, so Etta relaxes a touch as she walks along Abbey Green, letting her eyes drift along the storefronts, wondering if she ought to let her whims take hold and give in to the window shopping in order to alleviate her restlessness. What her eye instead catches from a distance is the fluttering of something falling out of someone's pockets or purse, unbeknownst to the owner. "Wait! Excuse me, wait!" she calls, hoisting her skirts up with one hand and trying to hail them with the other as she starts to pick up into a run after them. She can hear her ladies maids calling after her not to be so careless, but she's entirely too focused on her new escapade as she scoops up the object from the ground and closes the distance with the unsuspecting target. "Just a moment, you've dropped this!" she tries one more time, hoping they'll finally hear her.

[henry-etta]

She usually finds herself in the fray of the people and crowds when visiting Hyde Park, very content to mingle with friends or make the acquaintance of new ones. She had, however, overworked herself the day prior in her fencing lesson, and she's finding herself in want of a reprieve from constant chatter, her muscles sore. When she nears the pond, she expects it to be mostly vacant, and is surprised when she sees a less familiar face. "I don't supposed you have any bread with you?" she asks, peering over to her. "The ducks love it, of course."

Location: Hyde Park

Status: Open

Emmeline was in the park with her maid nearby. Her brain didn't seem to stop these days. With her preparing years for this Season, it seems she still wasn't ready. Endless sounds, from the screaming in the Place de la Revolution in Paris. Her friends and their families being killed, or them scattering to flee the country. It seemed the only thing that calmed her was the sound of the ducks in the pond, the serenity and calm being the only thing to calm her mind.

[henry-etta]

Etta's attention is fully taken in by the display of truffles, wondering if there's any possibility to select a handful of chocolates to take with her when she still has a full day of appointments to attend to. Surely they'd melt, and there's no way she'd be able to enjoy them straight out of the package on a stroll, not when she's wearing pristine gloves that her mother will wreck her for staining. She's still having this internal debate, her mouth pursed in thought, when she hears a voice pipe up next to her, and barely even processes the verbal slight. "Lady Robinson," Etta responds, an easy grin on her face. "You'll have to excuse me, I hardly even noticed you had approached."

place: fortnum and mason; afternoon; open to all

though unusual for a lady in many ways, hero was still an enjoyer of the finer things in life. silks and jewels and operas and expensive teas... the latter of which was the reason for a small trip to fortnum and mason, alongside two maids that had been given free reign to choose some delicacies for miss robinson and themselves. at the moment, hero was browsing some handsomely decorated marzipans, when she caught sight of something, or rather, someone, interesting. ❝ look what the cat has dragged in. ❞ hero said slyly, approaching the person with a sweet smile that almost disguised the sardonic air that accompanied the greeting.

[henry-etta]

"I'll remember that next time I'm at tea," she threatens, but they both know she'll keep any barbs like that to herself, lest she risk ruffling feathers more than she already does, or worse, harming the feelings of a lovely woman. She mouths an oops, realizing she had in fact forgotten the instruction as she follows him to the table and smooths down her hair again. "Boredom," Etta answers plainly, clasping hands behind her back and knocking shoulders with his. "I wouldn't dream of bolstering your ego any further by insinuating I have much need to spend time with you, rather that I had little else to do." And yet, when she was restless and itching for company, his was the first face she ran to. "I arrived at your door and a footman informed me you were back here working," she explains, letting her gaze drift over the various tools and supplies, raising a quizzical brow. "What exactly is it you're working on?"

He chuckles that she fell into his snare. "Now, now, why must you involve the Duchess of Windsor?" It isn't out of kindness that calls Sydney to defend the gauche duchess. With all due respect, she is one of the last voices that would echo in his head, but the first duchess who fit that description. "The rest are not quite as shrill." He reckons his banter with Etta was identical to exchanges between siblings. Though they shared not blood, Sydney found in her glimpses of his younger self. Sydney accepts the mallet from her grasp, ruffling Etta's shaggy head now that she's in his reach. "Good afternoon, duchess of Knighton. If you harkened my words, you would have known I also asked for my chisel, too." Sydney hangs his head and sighs as a colossal inconvenience burdened his shoulders. God forbid he raises a finger. Sydney rises from his kneeled position and saunters off to the table adorned with a spread of tools. "To what do I owe the gift of your company, hm? I've no shillings on my person but I'm quite a good shot if there is someone I must hunt down."