#'Mr. Ledford what does your daughter want to be when she grows up?'

[the-unconquered-queen]

No thoughts head empty just “Mr. Ledford, what does your daughter want to be when she grows up?”

[alj4890]

Choices September Challenge

Day 8 Storm

(Ernest Sinclaire x Clara Mills) A Choices Desire and Decorum Drabble.

A/N I think it's no secret to many of you how much I adore Regency Romances. This is my first actual Desire and Decorum drabble and after seeing the above Pride and Prejudice gif, it seemed perfect for today's prompt. This takes place near the beginning of book one. (I know this pair clears up this issue later in London, but I wanted to make it happen sooner.)

@choicesseptemberchallenge20​​​ @xjustin-ethansgirliex​ @lovealexhunt​​  @krsnlove​

Masterlist

Disheartened

"Clara?" Vincent Foredale, the Earl of Edgewater called out.

The sight of his daughter nearly running past his study alarmed him.

He heard her steps falter before returning.

Clara kept her head bowed as she answered him. "Did you need something, Father?"

He could hear the unmistakable catch in her voice.

"My dear," he came around his desk, "what troubles you?"

He gently nudged her chin up. Eyes filled with unshed tears met his.

"Forgive me." She whispered. "I need to--that is--after she--" she took a deep, shaky breath, "I am going to go for a walk."

Vincent wisely kept from asking her what had happened. At the mention of she, he knew that his Countess was the reason for his natural daughter's distress. A sense of pride rose within him that Clara wished to handle this herself.

"Very well." His glance out the window revealed dark clouds forming. "Don't stay out too long."

She pressed a grateful kiss to his cheek then dashed out the door.

Once outside, she could feel relief wash over her. Each step took her further and further from her tormentors.

How am I ever to be considered a lady when Countess Henrietta has encouraged Ms. Sutton and Ms. Bowman to point out how uneducated I am when compared to others?

If only Ms. Parsons had been there. She would have steered the conversation back to less insulting grounds.

"Oooohhh!" Clara picked up a rock and threw it with all her might at a tree, wishing it was the countess that was hit.

I will be a lady in every sense of the word if it kills me!

And at this moment, it probably will.

Unknowingly, her footsteps took her toward the division between the Edgewater estate and those of Ledford Park.

Her tears slipped down her cheeks unheeded as she wrapped her arms around herself. A chilled wind seemed bite through her muslin dress.

She thought the weather matched her mood perfectly.

A gut wrenching sob was cut off when she heard a familiar voice.

"Miss Mills?"

Clara came to an abrupt stop.

"Forgive me." Mr. Sinclaire bowed before her. "I meant, Lady Clara."

She gave a brief nod of greeting.

He searched behind her. "Are you on your own?"

Clara pressed her hand over her mouth as her shoulders shook. His simple inquiry had summed up her life.

I am on my own.

Surprisingly, her father loved her and it even seemed that her grandmother did too after such a brief acquaintance...but...they didn't know her. Not the real her. Not the one that loved to run through sun drenched meadows. Not the one who had once sang operatic songs with her mother. Not the one who's life had completely changed on the day her mother died. Discovering the identity of her father was part joyous celebration mixed with a does of complete terror.

She knew nothing of this life as a noble. It seemed impossible to learn all she needed to know to be worthy as a Lady of Edgewater.

Mr. Sinclaire stared at her sadness with growing horror. He took a step toward her, unsure what to do as her slight frame was wracked with muffled sobs.

"Miss--my lady? What can I do?" He pulled his handkerchief out and attempted to hand it to her.

Unable to stand to see her so undone, he moved closer and wiped her tears himself.

"Lady Clara, please, do not carry on so. Tell me what happened." He pleaded.

She shook her head, placing her hand on his to pause his ministrations. "It will only increase your low opinion of me, sir."

His frown firmed. "I do not have a low opinion of you. I--"

"Yes, you do." She interrupted. "From the moment we met, you looked down upon me." She sniffed, taking his handkerchief. "Just like everyone else." Her eyes met his. "I shall never escape the situation around my birth."

"You should not have to." He snapped. "Your birth is not a mark against your character. If anything," he cleared his throat. "If anything it proves how remarkable you are."

Her eyes narrowed. "Remarkable? In other words, I should be more ill mannered? Suffer from bouts of stupidity? Wickedness?"

"I never thought--"

"Oh but you did!" She stepped closer, pouring out her anger upon him. "You even referred to me as the earl's natural daughter when given my name upon introduction." Her shoulders trembled. "I could not be simply Miss Mills to you. Looking upon me, you saw nothing but my illegitimacy."

Mr. Sinclaire's lips parted, ready to deny her claims...and yet, he knew he could not.

"That, Lady Clara, is not a mark against you, but rather one on me." He said softly.

She wiped at the few tears that still fell before handing him his handkerchief back. "Be that as it may, it does not change things."

His fingers brushed hers as he took the now damp scrap of cloth.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, reminding them of where they were.

"I must go." She mumbled. "Forgive me of my unseemly behavior just now." She gave a slight curtsy before turning on her heel.

"Lady Clara!" He called out. "Please. Wait!"

"I must get home before the storm breaks." She said over her shoulder.

"My home is closer." He argued, slipping his hand under her arm. "Allow me to take you to Ledford Park and then on to Edgewater in the carriage." His tone gentled. "Please, my lady."

Clara looked up at the sky as the wind seemed to pull at the light wrap on her shoulders. "I--thank you, sir."

He took her hand and set it in the bend of his arm.

They walked in silence for a while, both lost in thought of what was said. Each held a glimmer of hope that things between them would change now that they had cleared the air.

"Oh!" Clara exclaimed when the sight of his manor came into view. "Your home is beautiful, Mr. Sinclaire."

His lips eased into a smile. "Thank you, my lady."

"I did not realize how close Edgewater is to Ledford Park." She admitted. "No wonder my grandmother said--" she clamped her mouth closed.

"The dowager said what?" He asked.

"That it is nearby." She hurriedly responded. The last thing she would want to do was reveal that her grandmother had said that Mr. Sinclaire would be an advantageous match.

If they were to marry, then Edgewater lands would then be united with his.

He gave her a dubious look over her hasty answer before calling for his carriage to be made ready.

The first few rain drops struck as they climbed in.

"We made it." Clara said with a relieved sigh.

Mr. Sinclaire sat down across from her. Uncertain how to proceed after their conversation, he cleared his throat a few times in the hope that she would set the tone.

Clara tucked a few strands of windblown hair behind her ear. "Mr. Sinclaire, I do hope that, I mean, surely we can--" she lowered her eyes. "Do you think that we might develop some sort of friendship?"

He relaxed against the cushions. "I would like that very much, my lady."

Her eyes flickered up as a smile slowly formed. "I would too."

[hellospunkiebrewster]

Where were you when Thomas Mendez said: “Mr. Ledford, what does your daughter want to be when she grows up?”

[hwu-adventures-blog]

Family Life- Part 5: A Decision

A/N: It’s been a year but I’m back for part 5 of Family Life! Sorry it’s taken that long, I have university to deal with, which obviously takes priority and on top of that, book 3 of Desire and Decorum came out and so I’ve been waiting to see what happened to that and make the changes to the fanfic appropriately to fit the narrative of the book. But hey I’m back now and hopefully part 6 won’t take too long but it’s uncertain how long. So please be patient with me! Also sorry it’s a bit shorter, less descriptive and more dialogue driven than the other parts! thanks for reading.

23rd December 1836:

Beatrice Sinclaire was in shock. Stood in the study at Edgewater estate, she could only open and close her mouth as she stared at the man she married 20 years ago in disbelief. Her husband really couldn’t be suggesting something so barbaric, so inhumane, especially not at Christmas!

“It’s just a suggestion Beatrice, nothing more and we don’t need to decide before Christmas, Mr Hyde will have the spot saved for us should we decide to take it” Ernest’s voice was calm as ever “but I really think we should consider it”

Bedlam?” Beatrice asked “Mr Hyde suggested Bedlam? is he insane?” Ernest’s godfather, an old gentleman named Mr Hyde (not to be confused with Edward Hyde from the Robert Louis Stevenson book which isn’t even written yet) had suggested it when he encountered Ernest in London, he had suggested they send their daughter to Bethlehem Royal Hospital, as it had great care and medical care to the highest standards capable of making any person sane again.

“He said it has the best doctors and at this point I do believe we need specialist care for Mary” Ernest said his eyes never wavering from his wife

“And you’re considering the opinion of a man who you haven’t seen in over twenty five years over your wife’s? Ernest- I didn’t think you were capable of that”

Ernest’s look turned sour, and full of dismay at his wife’s suggestion “I am not taking just his suggestion into account, I would never put anyone over you and the children, Beatrice, which is why I am asking you, what do you think? Because at this point after eight years I just really don’t know what to do” he said getting up from the desk seat and putting his hands on Beatrice’s arms and looking at her with his full attention his eyes sporting the same love sick look he has given her for the part 20 years

“Ernest, Bedlam- I’ve heard awful rumours about that place, that it’s not the place the gentry make it out to be” Beatrice spoke her voice shaking as she explained her worries to her husband

“But how can you be so sure?” Ernest asked “they could be just that, just silly rumours”

Beatrice sighed in reply and shuddered as she said the next words.

“Mad Tom”

Ernest looked confused at this choice of wording “Mad... Tom?”

“Thomas Tucker, the butchers son in Groveshire- nice man, a bit rough as a small boy growing up, mother died of childbed fever and his father blamed him for it- so he was a bit of a bully, had a liking towards me as we were growing up, declared he’d be the one to marry me from a young age and kept to that declaration thought our childhood”

“Well it didn’t work out, because you’re married to me so why was he called mad?”

“His father declared him sick in the head and so sent him to Bedlam, when he returned he’d speak of horrible things they did to him and his father gave him the name around the village as Mad Tom, the next year I was packed off to Edgewater so I never got to marry him because I met the love of my life”

“Beatrice perhaps those are just the ramblings of a clearly unwell man-“

“Or perhaps not- Ernest we can’t send Mary off potentially to go through that”

“I know that you’re probably right but what choice do we have? can’t have her like this for the rest of her life”

“Like what?”

“She has barely spoken since she was six”

“Since George died, I know”

“I’m just worried about her future. In a couple of years we’ll be looking to out her and she’ll be needing a husband of Ledford is to succeed” Ernest said this was a factor they’d decided on years ago, after George’s death, it was uncertain who would succeed at being the Master of Ledford park since Eustace’s condition meant he struggled a bit and so, Ernest had decided on his own accord that Ledford Park would go to his eldest daughter, Mary, instead, given the circumstances but that would need she would need a husband to help out and so she’d need to actually have the ability to talk to strangers and potential suitors, well by suitors, Ernest and Beatrice wanted their children to marry for love and not one of convenience if it can be helped.

“So am I, but I am convinced that place will do more harm than good. She can speak, she just- I don’t know- Bedlam is not the place for her and Mr Hyde is wrong”

“I don’t think I’d go that far but the old man is set in his ways I will have a talk with him but I can’t guarantee it- if Bedlam can help we should at least look into it thoroughly”

“Mother? Father?” A heartbroken voice asked from the doorway “I- I was just- Percival’s arrived”

Beatrice looked to the doorway where her eldest daughter, Mary was stood tears threatening to fall down her face

“Mary, how long have you been there?” Ernest asked

“A-a while- father are you really going to send me away?”

“I-“

Before either parent could get a word out, Mary had hurried away from the room sobbing, Ernest started to move intending to go after her, but Beatrice grabbed his hand

“No, Ernest, you go and greet Percival, I’ll go and speak with Mary”

“Alright” Ernest agreed with his wife “I’ll tell Percival you’ll be there to see him in a minute”

Beatrice turned and headed out of the room down to the place where she knew Mary would have gone. To her old bedroom.

She found Mary exactly where she thought, sat on George’s bed sobbing her heart out.

“Mary?” Beatrice asked her daughter opening the door and poking her head in before entering and sitting down next to the sixteen year old

“Oh Mama” she cried “is father really going to send me away to Bedlam? Does he really believe me to be mad”

“Oh Mary, your papa doesn’t think you’re mad, he just thinks you need a bit of help”

“But I can speak, I’m better now”

“I know, but you still lose your voice when any stranger talks to you and your father believes you’ll need to overcome that before you are presented to any man you will marry in the future and in a way I do think he’s right, he just- he’s just trying his best”

“I know mama and I am trying- it’s just difficult and I just don’t think I’m marriage material” Mary said

“I didn’t think that either, until I met your father” Beatrice smiled “and we turned out pretty well if you ask me”

“No mama, that’s not what I meant”

“Oh? What did you mean?”

Mary looked down at her hands

“I don’t- I don’t feel any attraction to any of the opposite sex”

Beatrice smiled at her daughter “and that’s alright, it’s fine feel that way”

“I’m not sure I understand- you’re supporting me?”

“Of course, who wouldn’t support you? your auntie Annabelle felt the same way, about me no less, and your father knew fully well that was the case and never diminished her, and don’t get me started on your uncle Bartholomew and uncle Yusuf-“

“Wait, uncle Bartholomew and uncle Yusuf are married?”’

“I officiated it, but don’t tell anyone”’ Beatrice smiled “so, who is it who’s caught your eye?”

“Ayla” Mary whispered

“Ayla?” Beatrice smiled “well I suppose it was kind of obvious now that I look at it”

Ayla Chambers has been the eldest of the children that Mr Chambers and Mr Konevi raised, followed by Charles and Joanna Konevi a few years later she was formally adopted by Mr Chambers and had become best friends with George and Mary as a toddler so it was inevitable that she would probably fall in love with one of the twins eventually.

“There’s only one problem Mama”

“And what’s that?”

“Alya’s probably going to be engaged to Vincent” Mary said “remember?”

Oh. Beatrice did remember that. It was painfully obvious that Vincent had not loved her though and it was a through a marriage of convenience.

“Also it’s not that I don’t want to talk to other people- I just struggle communicating with them, like Clemmie does. But more to the fact that I feel like the only people who truly get me are Ayla and- well, George- or he used to before-“

“Have you tried telling your father any of this?” Beatrice asked

“Why would I? He’d only disown me”

“disown you? Oh Mary, he’d never dream of doing that”

“How do you know that? He’s awfully stiff in personality, and- I know he’s already set his mind on sending me away- if I tell him it’ll only confirm his suspicion that I’m of ill mind” Mary exclaimed

“Mary, your father is rough around the edges, yes, and he may appear to be the typical English gentleman, but I assure you he loves you very much and only wants what’s best for you, and if you tell him your reasons when you are ready, he will not love you any less” Beatrice smiled “and he has not made up his mind about Bethlehem asylum, he is lightly considering it, and I think if you tell him your reasons then, it might help sway his opinion”

Mary nodded at her mother “will you come with me?”

“Of course but only when you’re ready” Beatrice smiled at her daughter

“I’m ready to do it now, best to get it over and done with right mama? Then we can focus on the Christmas festivities?”

“If that is what you want to do” Beatrice agreed “I promise everything will be alright and nobody will be taking you away ever” she pulled her daughter in for a hug which Mary reciprocated immediately before saying that she was ready to tell her father and the pair wandered back down the long halls to the study where Ernest was just returning to after seeing his stepson for the first time in months.

“Mary? Is everything alright? You had me worried when you ran off like that” he asked immediately upon laying his eyes on his eldest daughter concerned for her wellbeing, just as any father would be to any of their children

“Oh, yes papa I’m quite alright now, thanks in most part to mama and I do have something I would like to tell you” Mary said with as much confidence as she used to have when she was a little child “preferably in private away from the prying ears of my younger siblings”

“Oh” Ernest looked surprised at his daughter before unlocking the study door “well, yes, of course, come in. Beatrice, do you want to hear this?”

“I already know what it’s about Ernest, but I’m here for support-“

“Don’t worry mama, I think I can manage now” Mary smiled at her mother which made Beatrice proud of her daughter’s confidence she had clearly just needed that little push to get her confidence out to talk with her father.

“Very well, I will go and see Percival and the other children and help with the finishing touches of the decorating before we get the Yule log in tonight” Beatrice said before Mary walked in before her father into the study, sitting down at his desk, and Ernest send Beatrice a concerned look about his daughter which Beatrice returned with a reassuring smile just as he closed the door.

The countess of Edgewater was then greeted by her youngest child once she got to the bottom of the stairs.

“Mama! Mama! Percy’s here!” The blonde haired, grey-blued eyes eight year old exclaimed “and he promised we would play sailors with me”

“Did he now?” Beatrice chuckled as the eight year old pulled her into the ballroom excitedly where her two older brothers (Vincent now fifteen and Eustace now thirteen) were putting up the final decorations under the watchful eye of the twenty six year old Percival Richards.

“Percival” Beatrice smiled at her adopted son as she approached him

“Mother” Percival smiled at his mother and wrapped her into a tight hug “how are you?”

“Oh, the usual, how was your journey from France? Are your family well?”

“Very well, thry did want me to stay for the Christmas meal but I had to get on and catch the boat to England” Percival said “and now I am apparently supervising my younger siblings, finishing the decorations”

“Percy I have finished!” Clementine exclaimed running up to the pair of them “will you tell me about captain cook now?”

“After I’ve finished supervising, why don’t you go and help Eustace before I tell you?” Percival smiled warmly at his sister

“No, you promised!” Clementine’s lips wobbled with upset

Beatrice sighed “Clemmie-“

“No, you said that after I had finished my decorations you would tell me all about Captain cook, amongst other sailors and explorers from England and France!” The eight year old told them “and then you also said we were going to play sailors with my dolls before papa tells us the story of the return of Dragideon, and I’m very good with remembering things like that”

“Well then, I suppose I must keep to that promise” Percival said “speaking of Papa? Where is he?”

“Just taking care of some important business” Ernest’s voice said from behind them just as Mary skipped past them to help Eustace out with his decorating, Ernest smiled at Beatrice

“Well that’s our indication that we should follow Mary and leave our parents to talk” Percival said to the youngest child “and before I tell you about Captain cook, perhaps we shall start with a french one like Jean-Baptiste Bénard de la Harpe, the explorer”

And with an excited nod of the head, the little girl pulled Percival to her books and wooden ship, leaving her parents alone.

“That went well” Ernest said

“Was that a sarcastic comment?”

“No, I’m not sending Mary away”

“She convinced you?”

“She told me every reason and mr Hyde is getting a strongly worded letter on Boxing Day, no matter the partnership he had with my father”

“She told you everything?”

“It was obvious she was unattracted to men, nothing slips past her father”

“Nor does it for her mother. It doesn’t bother you?”

“No. She is aware that she will have to marry for convenience and we will just have to keep working on her confidence in front of others and speech but, no nothing could change our affection for our daughter”

Beatrice’s hand suddenly felt Ernest’s slide into hers and squeeze it tightly

“We’ll do it as a family, instead of being apart, and that’s what matters, isn’t that what Christmas is about? Family?”

Beatrice smiled at Ernest, cheekily knowing that they were both in a position to add a bit of lightheartedness to the conversation.

“My, my, Mr Sinclaire, holding my hand in front of the children? My grandmother will be turning in her grave at the indecency of it!”

Ernest laughed before smiling back at his wife, a loving look in his eyes, one he had always maintained for Beatrice. And Beatrice knew, in that moment, that everything was going to turn out just fine. Even if they were a little bit broken or different, the Sinclaire family were going to be alright.

A/N 2: sorry if there were any mistakes! If there were let me know!

Tagged accounts: @cocomaxley, @symonde , @indescribablechoices , @flyawayboo, @princess-geek and @regencylady1810 (if you want to be added to the tag list then don’t hesitate to ask 😊)

[hellospunkiebrewster]

20. Fluff (Choices September Challenge)

A/N: This would occur in the days after the garden party before heading to London in my D&D world. There’s so many beautiful little gaps in the story that we can fill in with a bit of fun fluff like this. 

Summary: Mr. Sinclaire asks for the Earl of Edgewater’s help with reviewing a few figures in his ledger and Vincent sees it as the perfect opportunity for his daughter to see Ledford Park for the first time.

Mr. Sinclaire has a difficult time keeping his eyes from following the illustrious Miss Young around the room. Despite the very limited time they’d known each other, he couldn’t keep himself from imagining what it might be like should she be the lady of the house one day. He watches as she glides, almost effortlessly and entrancingly across to the window. When she catches sight of the gardens at Ledford Park, she pauses placing her hand over her chest. He can see he shoulders sigh, but the room is quiet.

He’d invited the Earl of Edgewater over, wanting to go over a little bit of business. When he arrived, Lady Emmeline was by his side. It was certainly a welcome surprise.

The Earl and Emmeline were initially in Ernest’s study, to go over a few books and figures, until it became apparent Lady Emmeline was growing bored at the lack of conversation and things to look at or touch. She’d perused Mr. Sinclaire’s collection of literature, asking if he would recommend a few that she may enjoy. He’d indicated he’d be happy to loan her his whole library if she’d like it. In short time, she had a stack of books to read when she returned to Edgewater. However, with that out of the way, the quite bold and fiery Miss Young grew antsy.

Mr. Sinclaire surmised that it probably wasn’t because she had no interest in running an estate, she was slated to inherit one of her own, but that her mind was so full of worries and anxieties after her father’s announcement at their garden party just a couple of days ago. She needed time in order to figure out just what being Lady Emmeline of Edgewater actually meant, it had to be a lot to take in.

The Earl noticed his daughter’s displeasure and with a quite sly and knowing grin on his face asked if Mr. Sinclaire would much like to give his daughter a tour of Ledford, as she had after never been before. Each room they’d entered, came with a barrage of questions.

At the window, she glances over her shoulder at him. A smile plays on her lips, nearly leaving Mr. Sinclaire breathless. She was beautiful to be sure, but there was something more, something in the way she carried herself and let her true self shine through all the tiny things required of her. The sunlight flooded through the window, bathing her in it. He allows his gaze to wander from her lips and along the line of her neck and across her shoulders. As he does, she turns back to the window.

“The gardens are stunning, Mr. Sinclaire. No doubt another design of your grandmother’s?”

The question takes him almost by surprise, even if it wasn’t completely out of turn in the situation. His eyes slide down to the tuck of her waist, the ribbon tied behind her at the small of her back, and he feels his fingers twitch at the notion of tugging it loose.

He clears his throat, in order to find his voice. “Yes, Miss Young, they are.”

“You and my lady grandmother did say she had a way with nature.”

His eyes wander to her hips and lower still, the light fabric of her dress allowing the light through. He notices the faint outline of her legs, like a tempting shadow puppet show, through the fabric. His propriety and sense begged him to look away, but he couldn’t. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest and echo in his ears. Her skirts billowed, twisted, as she spins about and he is mesmerized, entranced by her dance.

“...Mr. Sinclaire?”

He can hear her, almost distant and echoing. Mr. Sinclaire shakes his head abruptly and when he looks back to her, he realizes she’s turned to face him and he’s been caught. He feels his cheeks warm and hopes his face doesn’t betray him.

“I’m sorry, Lady Emmeline, I seemed to have missed what you said.”

“I asked if you’d show me the gardens sometime. They do look beautiful and I so enjoy walking.” Her eyes are hooded almost as she pulls her fan out and walks towards the other end of the room, opening it then covering her left ear with it.

He breathes a sigh of relief, if she wasn’t going to take offense at his impertinence and tell others of it than he shouldn’t either.

“Oh my! What an impressive pianoforte, Mr. Sinclaire.”

His attention is shifted to the large instrument, only recently installed in the room and never played.

“Why yes, it’s brand new you see. From Vienna.”

“Quite extravagant.” Her slender fingers run over the bright cherry wood as she moves around it to the keyboard.

“Regrettably, there’s really no one here to play it. I’ve had it for a month and it’s only been touched by the maids, for cleaning.”

“How sad, perhaps Miss Parsons could come for a visit and entertain us. She’ll do it justice.” She looks to him, her eyes shining as her fingers hover just over the keys. “Do you not know how to play?”

He laughs a bit, managing an estate afforded him little time if he had interest in such pursuits, “I unfortunately know very little about the pianoforte outside of how expensive one can be. Why don’t you try it out?” He asks, heart in his throat. He wasn’t sure what it was about Lady Emmeline of Edgewater that caught him so stunned and unaware all the time.

“Mr. Sinclaire,” she giggled a bit, “I’d be doing this instrument and you a disservice. I’m only just learning.”

“Then we’re equally matched, are we not? How about a duet?” He doesn’t know what gave him cause to be so bold. He really knew very little about music and would most assuredly look like a fool.

“Are you teasing? Or do you mean to flatter me? I can’t make out which.”

“I don’t tease or flatter Miss Young, I’m sure you know this much about me from our few meetings.” He sits on the bench, leaving a spot for her next to him. She joins him in short order, a tiny space between them. He can just make out her perfume, rose water. He watches as she takes in the keys before her, as if she were counting them, memorizing them, in case they had moved about on her. She takes a moment to get her bearings at the instrument and places her fingers in familiar spots.

“Miss Parsons taught me this one.” She begins pressing the keys slowly, but rhythmically. It sounded familiar enough, a beginniner’s duet to be sure.

“Hmm, I think I know it.” Mr. Sinclaire joins in. For a moment, he is lost and she is too. He watches her fingers as they move much more gracefully than his own over the keys. Her forearm brushes against his, as they sit side by side. He misses a few keys of his own part, watching her as she bobs up and down in her seat to the part she was playing. Her tongue peeks just barely out of her lips as she bites down on it while she focuses.

“You’re much better than you let on.”

“Am I?” She stumbles over the notes as she speaks, needing her full concentration for the task at hand. “Then Miss Parsons is a miracle worker. Soon she’ll be changing water into wi-”

Her fingers dance over the keys and over on to his own, as he had lost track of his place just listening to her speak and watching her concentrate. She lingers on his hand, her fingertips warm and soft against the back of it. A flush raises to her cheeks quickly and her eyes dart from the keys to their touching hands then his eyes and finally down to her lap. Her hand follows her eyes and rests in her lap. It had only been a few seconds, but Mr. Sinclaire found himself missing the warmth of it all. The apples of her cheek pop up in a shy smile as she looks away.

The clapping of a single person behind them breaks the happy silence between the two of them. Lady Emmeline starts and turns around.

“Oh! Father! Are you all done reviewing Mr. Sinclaire’s figures for him?” She rises from the bench and crosses the room towards the Earl. Mr. Sinclaire follows her, stopping a step or two behind her.

“It appears all is in… perfect order.” He remarks as he looks between the two of them a knowing look in his eyes.

“Now then, have you had to opportunity to show my daughter the gardens? I’m sure she’d enjoy the fresh air.”

“I would love that. Can we?” She smiles and Ernest can’t possibly say no.

“We have time, dear Emmeline. You two go ahead without me and I’ll catch up. I’d like to send word with my groom that we’ll return for a late dinner.”

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[hwu-adventures-blog]

Family Life- Requiem

Family Life- part 1, part 2, part 3

Tragedy befalls the Sinclaire household, and Beatrice and Ernest find out that it’s hard to remain strong even for the children’s sake.

The rain fell upon the people gathered in the church yard. Dressed in black they were all surrounding a freshly dug grave. The family and friends surrounded them, Miss Parsons and Mr Chambers, Luke Harper the stable boy, Prince Hamid, Miss Sutton and Mr Marlcaster, Briar and Mr Woods were all in attendance along with other members who knew the family. At the front of the congregation stood Ernest and Beatrice with their children. Vincent was holding Mary who sobbed uncontrollably, with one arm around his brother, Eustace who was supported by a crutch and baby Clementine sat quietly in her pram just in front of them. With them was Ernest and Beatrice- Ernest gripped Beatrice tightly trying to remain strong for the family whilst she cried into him as much as her daughter was, as the grave was filled with dirt. Ernest read the name on the grave over and over-

                                        ‘George William Sinclaire

                                                     1822-1828

                                                          Age: 6’

Ernest could not believe what had happened- one minute George was happy, playing with Mary and Eustace (whenever Eustace was able) and the next- he was gone- taken by the illness that befell him. He wished he had more time with his son- that he had seen him grow up, marry, have children of his own but now, now that was impossible. He’ll never see his son again. Ernest held Beatrice closer. Never wanting to let go of her.

The night of the ball had ended in terrifying circumstances. Their second eldest, George had collapsed, and Ernest had put him to bed before the doctor had arrived. Beatrice had stayed by her son’s side as the doctors examined him and she’d answered all the questions with honesty, Ernest had entered near the end of the examination after reassuring his other children that George would be alright, but eventually the doctor had come to a diagnosis and it was something neither Ernest or Beatrice wished to hear.

“it’s yellow fever”

Ernest had watched as Beatrice shook her head in disbelief and denial

“no it must be something else”

“I’m sorry countess Beatrice but there’s nothing else that matches up with the symptoms”

Ernest looked at the doctor

“is there anything you can do?”

“I am sorry Mr Sinclaire but there isn’t a cure- all we can do now is wait for the inevitable and make him comfortable”

The doctor had left and Beatrice had retreated to the master bedroom clearly distraught over the news. Ernest had run after her, catching up to her in the corridor. Tears streaming down her face.

“Beatrice”

“not again Ernest”

Ernest knew exactly what she was saying not again too. Twelve years ago she’d ran down these very halls to her father’s room and stayed with him as he died of yellow fever and now the same illness plagued the halls of Edgewater Estate once more- history was repeating itself.  

“Beatrice- I-”

“first my father and now George”

Ernest pulled her in to him and held her tightly stroking her head. Gently trying to comfort his wife.

“Beatrice it’s going to be alright”

“Ernest how is it going to be alright? our son- our son is- dying”

“I don’t know how but it will be- I promise- whatever the outcome is George will still be here with us- you and I both know that and everything will be alright”

“how do we tell the children? How do we tell Mary her twin brother only has a few days left on earth?”

“I don’t know how- but we’ll tell them together like we’ve always done”

Beatrice stood helplessly- sobbing into her husband’s arms, she’d lost her child- her son! George was quieter than Mary but that never stopped him from showing he cared. She felt like her grandmother must have done when she lost her father- her heart ached- broken- of course she had her other children but that was no excuse she was not unfeeling like her stepmother had been- she loved her children equally and to lose one of them used to be unthinkable and to make matters worse she remembered the day that George left them ever so clearly-

Early morning had descended at Ledford park, and it had just gone past one when The bishop left the boy’s room at Ledford Park and shook his head at the parents in the corridor.

“I’m sorry- he doesn’t have much time left- it is time to say goodbye and let him go into God’s hands” he said “you should get his siblings”

“they’re staying at Miss Parson’s household tonight- there won’t be enough time” Ernest said regret visible in his words.

Ernest had thought it would be a good idea to send the children off to Annabelle Parson’s home to give George a bit of space and see if it would help him recover under the recommendation of an old friend of his fathers. Beatrice had been reluctant to let her children go and stay away from their brother especially since anything could happen but eventually, she had conceded after Ernest promised they wouldn’t be too far away. but in the past 24 hours George had deteriorated so much that Ernest and Beatrice had sent for the bishop fearing that this was it and they were correct.

“then you two should both be with him”

Ernest looked at Beatrice and they had walked into George’s room where George was laying in his bed, looking weak she had sat besides him on the floor and smiled at him gently

“Mama? Papa? What did Bishop Winters say? Will God make me better and able to play with Mary tomorrow?” he asked

“he said God would make you better- but you won’t be able to play with Mary for a while Georgie” Beatrice spoke softly brushing a strand of his head away from his sweating head

“how soon?”

“I don’t know son” Ernest had said smiling sadly at him

“mama I’m scared” the young boy had said turning to Beatrice and looking terrified as if he knows what was happening

“there’s no need to be frightened- mama and papa love you very much and so does Vincent and Mary and Ernest and little Clem- we all love you so, so much” Beatrice had smiled at him gently

“will Grandpa be where the angels are?” George was smarter than any boy his age- top of his class- he had figured out he would not survive the night.

“Grandpa Vincent will be up there along with Granny Mary and my mama and papa- they’ll all be there- they’ll be very excited to meet you” Ernest said giving George his warmest smile

“I can’t wait to meet them either”

“you can tell them all about those toy soldiers” Beatrice said comforting her son

“and my adventures with Mary?”

“and your adventures with Mary- they’ll especially love to hear about those”  

“and the time we brought a stray kitten home”

“definitely tell them about that”

“I’ve decided I’m going to be Mary’s angel mama and that way she’ll remember me”

“George that sounds like a brilliant plan” Ernest said

“I’ll tell Mary all about my adventures up there when I see her next” George let out a staggered breath

“I know you will son”

“mama?”

“yes Georgie?”

“can you pass me Mr Bucket?”

Mr Bucket was George’s teddy, gifted to him for his first birthday by his parents and had been his constant companion (other than his twin sister) and helped him get him through the nightmares and bad times - Beatrice reached to the end of his bed and passed it to him and George grabbed the bear with a loose grip- before closing his eyes to go to sleep

“goodnight mama, goodnight papa”

“goodnight George” Beatrice kissed her son’s forehead

“sweet dreams son” Ernest said

The pair sat there- not wanting to leave their son’s bedside at all. Beatrice held onto her son’s hand tightly as she felt it slowly get colder and colder- wishing, praying for a miracle to make her son better- George’s breath was getting shallower and shallower until eventually- half an hour after he had fallen asleep- the breathing quickened and staggered and then stopped- his hand was stone cold and there was only silence from the boy. “no” Beatrice had  let out a cry she didn’t know was in there at the exact moment they realised he was gone and burst into uncontrollable tears- she felt Ernest pull her into him and hold her tightly as if not wanting to let her go- he was crying too, as she felt tears drip onto her hair and they sat there on the floor by the bed holding each other their hearts broken in two.

As the funeral procession broke away, the family had many people come up to them and offer their condolences. It was the worst feeling in the world, and Beatrice could not help but remember how she’d lost so many people to the grim notion of death. How many tines she’d stood and watched as a coffin was lowered to the ground. The first one she could remember was her grandfather, Frank Morse’s funeral her mother had managed to save just enough to go to Germany for the funeral. She remembered meeting family members she’d never met before, she remembered thinking that she hoped nothing ever took her mother away from her like that. the next one was her mother’s funeral. It was small with only the priest, Beatrice, Briar and Briar’s mother in attendance. She was not buried in the churchyard as she was not allowed to be due to her having a child unmarried however she was allowed to be buried in the back of the family garden- Beatrice’s father, Vincent had brought her childhood home for Beatrice soon after as a present seeing that Beatrice was having a hard time adjusting to her new life so she could go home whenever she missed it. the next funeral was that of her fathers, merely weeks after moving to Edgewater- it was unexpected and abrupt. The funeral was the largest she’d been too and she had refused to move for her stepmother as the cow had claimed it only be a seat for her and no matter how hard it was but it did lay way to one Beatrice’s fondest memories with Ernest. the last funeral she had attended was that of her grandmothers. The Dowager countess, Dominque had died a few months after little Vincent was born and it was not a surprise when it did happen, she was aged and had lived a long and fulfilling life and like Vincent’s it was a big funeral and she was buried in the family lot in the graveyard beside her son and husband, Rupert. But now Beatrice was stood at a funeral she never wanted to see happen. Beatrice looked towards her children and she remembered telling them George had died;

They’d almost immediately gone to Annabelle’s house in the morning and had woken the children. Vincent fully understanding death even at age eight, had stood there in disbelief that his younger brother had gone, Eustace didn’t understand where George had gone and asked a lot of questions that his parents could not answer without crying, and Clementine just gurgled in her eldest brother’s arms. However Mary took it the hardest. Beatrice had broken the news gently to Mary after she had awoken up properly, that her twin brother had gone and he was never coming back- Mary had immediately burst into tears and grasped onto her mother as she realised she’d never see or speak to her other half again. Beatrice had comforted her and let her cry into her- she could not even imagine what it was like to lose a twin- and it hurt her to see her daughter in as much pain as she was but for a different bond. They’d sat and cried. The children had returned home with them that morning to Ledford and they’d just been quiet for the two days leading to the funeral. Mary refused to come out of her and George’s room, she’d slept in George’s bed instead of her own and she didn’t speak to anyone (except occasionally her mother and father but eventually even she’d stopped talking to them) she’d been broken in grief.

The family had returned to Edgewater Estate in the evening after everyone had left. The children were put to bed and were asleep sooner than expected, they had been emotionally exhausted not to sleep. A few minutes later, Beatrice had gone to bed tired from crying and determined to be better and braver tomorrow for her children, she felt she needed her sleep to do that. Ernest retired three hours later, having downed some alcoholic drink- he couldn’t quite remember what it was, he just found himself drinking it and ended up having a few glasses to drown his sorrow- he was not the kind of gentleman who drank every night but he had needed it. So, when he turned in for the night Ernest had been shocked to find Beatrice, wide awake and staring up at the stars from the window seat.

“I thought you were asleep”

“I cannot sleep Ernest”

“neither could I”

“I can never sleep again”

“it’s not your fault”

“I’m cursed”

“now you’re talking nonsense”

“I’m cursed, everyone leaves me Ernest, I’m nothing but bad luck”

“it is coincidental”

“we buried our son today, Ernest, our son- after he died from the same Illness that killed my father who left me merely weeks after I came to Edgewater because my mama left me too- how can you say I’m not cursed?” Beatrice’s voice cracked “what if someone else leaves me? what if I lose more of the children? What if I lose you? I can’t risk it”

“you will not lose any more of our children and you will never lose me”  Ernest pulled his wife into an embrace as she cried again. Ernest knew she was broken, but he did not know the extent of her brokenness.

“I can’t risk it Ernest”

“what do you mean?”

“tomorrow I want you to go to Ledford and take the children with you, I need to pack, I need to go, I need to go home”

“Beatrice-”

“I don’t want to drag you down with me”  

“you won’t- we can get through it together- you are not cursed, you have people who love you, you have children who bring you joy, you have me- you are not cursed”

“I’m not?”

“we buried our child today, but we can pull through, we’re the Sinclaire family, we can get through anything together even if it hurts to do it” Ernest said softly with enough sincerity in his voice to reassure her “now, let’s go to bed and sleep, we’ll talk more about this arrangement you’ve suggested in the morning- just sleep on it”  

“I don’t know if I can sleep”

“I’ll be by your side and I won’t let go of you when the night terrors come”

Beatrice looked at the door and then the empty suitcase by the bed then at Ernest and she nodded reluctant to return to the realm of dreams and nightmares. She laid down in the bed and Ernest changed into his night clothes and joined her he brushed the tears away from her face as she fell asleep and when he was sure she was asleep, he let the tears finally fall.

A/N:I thought I’d get Part 4 up before Book 2 starts on monday, so here it is, I cried writing the death scene as I hated killing off George but child morality was really bad in the regency era and yellow fever was a really common killer which is why i used the same disease that killed Vincent (the MC’s father). once again i have no clue when part 5 will be up but it will be jumping a few years ahead and despite trying their best, Ernest and Beatrice are forced to have a serious discussion about one of their children.  I’m also working a few christmas fics for Ernest and Beatrice and a few other pairings so keep an eye out for them! anyway, thanks for reading! 

tagged accounts:

@cocomaxley, @symonde , @indescribablechoices, @flyawayboo

[the-unconquered-queen]

Conducting a casual poll because why not

In your opinion, which is/are the most iconic Choices quote(s)? Not your favorites, but the ones that are such standouts that they are immediately recognizable to players as long as they've read the book (or even so legendary that they're recognizable regardless)?