#margaretmulgrave

[earlharcourt]

CLOSED STARTER || @margaretmulgrave​ LOCATION || St George’s EVENT || Mulgrave / Harcourt Wedding

The sky was gray. Well, not gray exactly but it just before the sun fully rose and the world seemed to be this pale color, not really gray and not really white. Calming almost. Today was the day. Everything Richard had worked towards, fought for him in some cases, finally arrived. In just a few hours, Richard would marry the most eligible woman in London and the next aim in his life was to start. To secure his family line but that always seemed like a fun bit. Still, as joyous as the day seemed, when Richard woke up his thoughts were filled with Mathilde. It was to be expected even, given all that was about to happen. Margaret was to be Richard’s wife now. Mathilde had to remain in the past but even just thinking that made Richard’s heart feel as if it was being torn in two. 

A few hours before the ceremony, the world was just beginning to wake up but Richard had been up for hours. Just before his servants woke, Richard made the hour and a half trip to Egham, a town in Surrey where the Rawston’s reside and where Richard had buried his first wife. It was important to him that she was close to her family, despite how her mother seemed to hate Richard after his daughter’s passing. The polite thing would have been to stop in, pass on his hello’s while in town but it was his wedding day, Richard did not want to sour the mood. Soon enough, the carriage pulled up at the church and Richard stepped out, yellow chrysanthemums in hand. Richard did not dawdle. Instead, he walked right up to Mathide’s resting place while his heart was ripping itself to shreds with every step. Kneeling down, Richard pulled at the very sparse weeds growing out of the ground. “Hello my love. I’ve missed you but I gather you’re aware of that.” Richard laughed despite feeling a lump forming in his throat. “I couldn’t not come today and you know why. Well, I hope you do.” How oddly silly and comforting at the same time it felt as Richard spoke to a slab of stone that he imagined was Mathilde. He had to believe she could hear him, even just for this moment. “I am to be married again Matti, I’m sure you would like her but I want you to know that I’ll never forget you. My heart will still beat for you but I have to do this. I have to make her happy.” And that meant giving Margaret as much as his heart as Richard possibly could. As he spoke, the tears fell and his voice broke a little. “I will always love you Matti. As long as I breathe, as long as my heart beats in my chest, that will never change.” There was nothing else to be said. Richard put his fingers to his lips and then to the part of the stone with Mathilde’s name. It was a goodbye but it wasn’t final, nothing with Mathilde could ever be, and then he left to start his life as a newly married man. 

When Richard arrived back at his London residence, his staff were running frantically around. Richard didn’t have much of a chance when he was ushered into his room to bathe and then to dress. His wedding suit was perfect. From the black wool trimmed tailcoat to the vest that Richard had a hand in designing, it all served a purpose. The waistcoat was gold with small amounts of subtle emerald green thread in the embroidery detailing. Everything matched, everything was unified. Everything was to his satisfaction so why could his nerves not go away?

At St.Georges, Richard stood at the end of the aisle, fidgeting with his hands as he waited for Margaret. The vicar had eyed  Richard cautiously, as if he were expecting him to burst into flames at any given moment to which Richard continued to smile at the man. It was rather sad to look out at his side and see only a small amount of faces but that’s what today was. It was a promise and the start of his new family, embracing Margaret into his life as well as her family so why did every second he stood alone at the altar feel like an hour had passed?  And then it happened. The vicar asked all to rise and Richard took a breath, waiting as his eyes fixated on the doorway. Margaret was to enter St. George’s as Margaret Mulgrave but together they would leave as Earl and Countess Harcourt, to be a true partner to one another. All Richard could think of is just how excited he was to see her walk down the aisle. 

[in-singh]

location: an office in Spitalfields when: noon in January closed w/ @margaretmulgrave

A midday rainstorm pattered against the grimy window of the small office off of Lamb Street. The calming noise intermingled with that of the soft purrs from a kitten in the corner of the room. Peter sighed and let his eyes study over the parchment before him once more, trying to focus on his most recent patient’s symptoms to no avail. He turned slightly in his chair and caught a glance at the invitation to the Harcourt wedding. Instantly, the guilt came.

He had never acted so petty in his life, yet how had he been expected to feel about his formerly betrothed’s nuptials to another. Of course he was happy for Margaret, delighted even. But perhaps he had been a little jealous? Peter had quite easily accepted that they would marry other people... but he was too naive to prepare himself for the obvious situation of Margaret marrying first. When the Duke called off the engagement, Peter was initially content, for it meant that he could focus on his career, and take care of his family. Though as the years passed, his work only kept him busy for so long. Now he longed for a woman with whom he could share his love, and build a finer life.

Fortunately, he was pulled from his racing thoughts by a quiet yet purposeful knock on his door. Peter rose and quickly tidied his desk before dashing to greet who he could only assume was one of his patients. Nothing could have prepared him for the face that met him on the other side.

“Margaret!” He exhaled, standing to the side so she could enter. “What are you doing here? On the East End. Alone?”

[ernestpembroke]

Early August, 1800 / Afternoon / Fortnum & Mason @margaretmulgrave​

Being without a cook meant that Ernest was, for the time being, quite a regular at Fortnum & Mason. He was glad to say he received an application to fill that position and that hopefully, soon, at least that part of his life would return to normal. Of course he needed more than just a cook but it was a start and that satisfied him well enough.

Being the regular that he now, inconveniently was, Ernest made himself at home when he arrived for lunch. Just a week ago he found a journal left quite forgotten on a bench at Hyde Park and ever since, he’d taken to reading it. It was interesting, was all. Reading words someone wrote down with the intention that nobody would see. It was like he was a voyeur in the life of someone he didn’t even know. 

Engaged to a widower was mainly what he knew about the woman, which. . . Well, that did narrow it down quite a good deal. Still, he was inclined to finish his read before mailing it to the lady anonymously. he had no intention to do anything nefarious with the knowledge he’d gleamed from the entries, not that any of it was particularly scandalous, he just wanted to read it, as though it were a book.

Leaning forward, he took another bite of his lunch as he turned the page, near the end of its contents.

[dorottyacrow]

@margaretmulgrave​

She stood at her mother’s side, lips pressed together in a smile as she looked around the room. It was her first ever soiree and while she knew the mask stunt would draw attention, well – There was still a certain anxiety about having so many eyes take notice of her at once. Fortunately, that notice was shared among two others and she was at least beginning to settle into the evening. Mostly, it was thanks to her sister Klara, who was happy to remind her that there was no way she’d let Klara be more pleasant company than her, nerves be damned. 

She moved through the crowd, feeling her mother’s watchful eyes on her when she caught sight of – Oh my. Lady Margaret. 

Dot contemplated turning around, not wanting to earn any more of her scorn, as much as she knew she deserved it. Still, seeing her now, and she looked quite well. . . Dot steeled herself and approached. 

“Margaret?” She said, offering a pleasant, though slightly nervous smile. She lifted her mask to reveal her face. “It’s been ages, I– You seem to be doing so well, your dress is beautiful.” Nobody would say the same to Dot, who somehow always managed to wear the most unflattering colors or the worst fitting thing in a room. “I hope you aren’t still angry with me, I know you probably are, but. . . Well it’s been so long I wanted to say hello. We’re in London, late for the season, I know, but you remember how my mother is when she has an idea. Is it true you’re engaged?”

[lordedmund]

late july 1800 / late afternoon / st. james’s park

@margaretmulgrave​

Truly, Edmund had picked his time to go out and paint poorly, for, as he had realised upon setting up his easel under a somewhat secluded willow tree, St. Jamese’s Park seemed to suddenly be flooded with an abundance of young people, their eager parents and servants looking to promenade. He should’ve known better, most parks were to be avoided during the afternoon - but Edmund simply couldn’t help it, the light was far too good to let it go to waste. 

And it was entirely to hot and dreadfully boring to remain indoors any longer, so he had packed up his supplies and had made his way down to the park. Edmund was eager to paint but he seemed to be interrupted the second he attempted to touch his brush down onto the canvas. Old friends from Oxford with their new wives, friends of his mothers’, cousins - he could not remember having quite this many - there was always someone demanding his attention.

It was exasperating. He had already moved his easel further away from the treaded path, where it now stood comfortably in the shade of the old willow tree. Edmund glanced down at his watch - a whole two minutes without another interruption, he noted, ready to attempt his first brushstroke once more.

Interrupted once more, however, by a rustling noise behind him. With a deep sigh he whipped around. “Surely, if I would have longed for company I would have promenaded, would I no-” He caught himself halfway through as he recognized the face before him, a faint blush raising to his cheeks. If anonye had a talent for utter embarassment it was sure to be Edmund. He cleared his throat. 

“Lady Mulgrave. My apologies, I was under the impression that you were another one of my cousins looking to annoy him. You are clearly not - I do apologise.”

[jeremiahtheyankee]

Mid July 1800 St. James’s Square @margaretmulgrave​

“What the bloody hell?”

A few ladies passing by on the street turned, shooting glares at Jeremiah, then following his gaze to the carriage. Its wheels were doused with red paint, some of which had splattered onto the body of the carriage, and one of the horse’s hooves. He’d asked the coachman to clean the horse immediately, and while he did, he stared agape at the damage done.

“I can’t ride around like this. I need--is there another carriage I can take?” One of the footman shrugged.

“I could go and seek one out for you, my lord?”

Jeremiah looked back at the carriage, reaching out and touching the wheel. His finger came back wet with paint. “Shit! N-Nevermind. I have to be back at the house soon and I can’t have this trailing paint everywhere. Have it taken to the carpenter, I’ll walk!”

---

a few minutes later

Jeremiah walked as quickly as he could down the cobblestone, trying to keep from outwardly shoving anyone out of the way. According to his watch, he was going to be late, and Mama was going to be cross with him because he’d already been late twice already this week.

Up ahead, he saw a familiar face and--her carriage!

“L-Lady Mulgrave!” he called to her, out of breath from practically running in this heat. He tugged at his necktie as he approached. “I wondered, could I trouble you for a--a ride, uh, to my house? It’s only a few blocks down the way in Belgrave Square!” In messing with his collar, he accidentally smeared red paint all over it.

“Shit.”

[baronwillliam]

Date: Early June Location: Hyde Park

Technically, by being out walking in the park, William had indeed done exactly as he told his mother and ‘gone out’ as he said, rushing from home before she could ask anymore questions. 

Truthfully, there wasn't anything that required his attention, he just didn’t want to hear more questions about the ball that he’d previously answered even if they’d been phrased slightly differently before. 

If his mother came up with preconceptions about why he was out, that wasn’t his fault. If she wanted to think that perhaps he was paying a call to someone, that was her business and her disappointment to court.

And again, technically, he could say he’d been to see someone - he could name at least two people that had passed by, but what bachelor couldn’t recognize a Griscombe sister if only for his own safety? 

Not that William needed to run, as it was Alethea Griscombe and her wedding was still on, as far as he knew. 

The longer William stayed, the more people that came and went - except, it seemed, for one woman in particular. Seated at a stone table near a tree, there was a lady who had sat through at least three other individuals for a game of chess and while William wasn’t particularly paying attention, it hadn’t failed his notice that everyone else left while she remained.

Well... chess wasn’t so bad. Maybe here was a chance to have something to say to his mother to ease her dismay about his personal life. A game would count as socialization, wouldn’t it?

Mind made up, William watched as the latest challenger disappeared before standing to approach, curious if she took on any challenger. “Are you up for one more game, miss...?” // @margaretmulgrave​

[francesackerley]

university au || frances

tennis practice several times a week

pearl necklace that is definitely not associated with a legacy secret society

the one night stand that got out of hand @jeremiahtheyankee

late night drinking & cram  shit-talking sessions (w/ @lucyofedinburgh, or @ixnay-on-the-ipshay and @margaretmulgrave if exams are drawing near)

weekend  hungover dog walks on the way to breakfast

glam nights out

texting in class

that one dive bar frances always swears she’ll never end up at (bow down to the raining billiards queen @sebastianofprussia)

also ft. body glitter that gets on everything, numbers from boys who won’t get a call back, flowers from the boy that will, monogrammed everything, lucy’s lipstick that went “missing”

[missvane]

When: 30th July, 1800 Where: Mulgrave Residence Who: @margaretmulgrave​

Ophelia was nervous. She and Lady Mulgrave had made easy conversation not a week prior, and now she felt that awful twist in her belly at the prospect of facing the woman. She was no stranger to confrontation, but this was different... She did not want to lose a possible friend over Richard. Yet, it seemed Whistledown was keen to ruin everything from romance to friendships, to family. It was horrid. 

Still, the woman had invited Ophelia to her home, and she would oblige. Perhaps Margaret didn’t think it true! Perhaps she had invited her over to laugh about the preposterous nature of the rumor... Though that would hardly help matters, seeing as Ophelia was well aware she would not be able to lie to Lady Mulgrave’s face. It would come out strained and overeager.

So. she resolved herself to facing whatever may come. And with a deep breath, Ophelia nodded at Bridget to knock on the door.

[thexreluctantxviscount]

Event: Lady Derringford’s Picnic Auction Date: 5 June 1800 Parties: Viscount Brooksbury, Tolivander Albarron and Miss Margaret Mulgrave of Marlborough @margaretmulgrave​​ Time: At the conclusion of the Auction and beginning of the luncheon Basket: Item No. 5 When preparing for the auction, Tolly decided if this was to be his first event of the Season, he would take it seriously. He and his sister spent hours debating the contents of his basket, selecting just the right linens, the basket and the tone he wished to set among the Ton. Unable to resist, he insisted on one particular dish from his adopted home that was a favourite among his family there. The household cook was put out by the request and only when Tolly started to prepare it himself did she put aside her feelings on the matter to finish the dish to his specifications. Frankly if the lady’s companionship turned out to be dull, he at least wanted a good meal out of it. 

The discussions with the other gentlemen were more revealing than he thought the men intended. He found a few though that might just become interesting enough to further the acquaintance. He knew he needed such connections should he wish to be successful in his pursuit of a wife, especially given the fact that he felt old enough to be the father of some of these pups, who looked far too wet behind the ears to be out of short pants, much less courting.

His appreciation turned to the bidding itself. The woman who succeeded in securing his basket was clearly determined and beautiful. Two positive strikes in her favour. If nothing else, he was hoping to secure a commendation from the lady in question when she spoke to the other ladies. A man’s reputation could be won or abandoned in a single event.

The violet embroidered blanket was spread out on a particularly lovely knoll, well in sight of the others so as not to raise a hint of scandal but set back just far enough that they could engage in quiet conversation without another party hearing every word. The tea service was set up by a competent staff member of the Derringford household while the first course of salamagundy and sliced vegetables in a variety of shapes was laid out among bottles of lemonade poured into charming glasses, also painted with violets. He was quite pleased with it, even if he did say so himself.

“Good day, Miss Mulgrave. Thank you for doing me the honour of acquiring my basket.”

[earlharcourt]

CLOSED STARTER || @margaretmulgrave​ LOCATION || Harcour House DATE || January 1801

After a stay between their home in Nuneham and Blenheim Palace, the new earl and countess Harcourt had made their return to London, where the season was in full swing. Families flocked to London for the opening of parliament. Already, the modiste had a line out the door with mama’s fussing over their daughters. The Queen’s presentation had yet to begin and already but Richard’s mind was not on the upcoming debutants. Even as he walked through the bustling streets, all Richard could think about was Margaret. 

As soon as they had arrived in London, Richard had begun to feel as if something had shifted between the two. At first he assumed it was because they did not travel for their honeymoon but Margaret wasn’t the type to hold onto such trivial things, or so Richard had assumed. With the hassle of travel, Richard had assumed his wife needed a treat, and that was the reason for his early morning errand. Gunters had only just opened for the day and Richard was there, waiting outside to pick up a scoop of peach ice cream and another of almond, the very flavors Margaret had picked when they first met. It seemed a little romantic to Richard but he wanted this season to be smoother sailing than their previous one. 

When Richard arrived back at Harcourt house, he planned on heading right up to the drawing room where Margaret likely was but his valet, John Marshall, stopped Richard in his tracks. John was a good man, always loyal to the Harcourt’s, so when he expressed concern over Margaret’s supposed lack of appetite and increased fatigue, Richard’s heart started to race. He would not lose another person in his life, though Marshall tried to assure him that the news was not so dire, Richard simply could not hear the latter part.

Rushing into the drawing room, Richard must have looked like a madman. He practically burst into the room with the icecream still in hand. “I apologize for interrupting you.” Richard looked at his wife and saw she looked perfectly well. He felt rather foolish. “I…” I coughed to clear his throat. “I thought I would surprise you with some ice cream before it melts.” John was right behind Richard, placing spoons down for the newlyweds with a concerned look casting over Margaret. “Are you well my dear, John said you weren’t feeling well and I was a little worried.” A little was a bit of an understatement but Richard did not want to worry her.

[in-singh]

13th August | Kew Gardens | @margaretmulgrave

    On the third morning post soiree, Blanche Collins had told Peter plainly over breakfast that he would be escorting her to tea at a Lady Harper’s and then to Kew Gardens to see the final summer blooms. Seeing as he had not spent much time with his grandmother since arriving in London. Peter figured it wouldn’t be terrible to accompany her.

Grandmama grasped his arm with one hand and steadied herself with her cane in the other as they strolled through the gardens. She teasingly nudged him as they passed the rose bushes and Peter rolled his eyes and blushed, wishing he hadn’t recounted all his tales of the soiree with her. He flexed his now healed hand involuntarily, and was about to ask if she was ready to return home when she stopped suddenly and whacked him with her cane.

Peter winced and shot daggers at the older woman. “Ouch! Grandmama, what on - “

“Shush, my boy!” She hissed in a tone just above a whisper. “She is here!”

Before Peter could question her, she pointed her cane in the direction of a pair of women strolling their way. It was a lady and her maid. Not just any lady, it was Margaret Mulgrave. She looked lovely as ever, and Peter’s heart skipped a beat. It had been, what, ten years since they’d last seen one another? Yes, ten years.

Their eyes met and a nervous smile formed on his face. He politely tipped his hat.

There had only been seven years since her father had stood in the drawing room of his grandmother’s home and angrily informed her that the arranged betrothal between his daughter and her grandson, was no more.

[ladywinsomes]

To Lady Margaret Harcourt ( @margaretmulgrave )

Nuneham House, Oxford

3rd January, 1801

    Dear Lady Harcourt, 

I hope that you have enjoyed a splendid respite from the hustle and bustle of London. I know that I am most grateful to have been reunited with my family and can only imagine the excitement you found waiting for you at Nuneham House. Winter has been brutal, but Yuletide and the new year have come and gone and I am looking forward to another season.

I would be remiss should I not inquire about how marriage has been treating you. Lord Harcourt is a handsome and kind man, one whom I look forward to getting to know more in the years to come. It goes without saying that I am also excited to grow closer with you, should you become the next Patroness. It would be delightful to have a fellow lady under the age of five and thirty.

As you know, I was chosen to be the Golden Swan at last year’s soiree. How that came about, I still cannot grasp. If anything, I was the dunce of the crop with the rumors that surround myself. Despite all of that, I am now tasked with throwing a house party before the 1801 season commences. Such an idea is daunting to say the least. I have been hiding out long enough, and am afraid that I shall officially be exiled from society by Lady Selwyn should a party not take place within the next few months.

Our friendship is still in the early stages, but as your first Patroness acquaintance, I would be honored for your input. The theme is not yet set in stone, however I think it would be just darling to throw the party on or around St. Valentine’s Day. It is one of my favorite days of the year, is it not?

I look forward to seeing both you and your dear Earl Harcourt and hope for your reply in time.

Happiest regards,

Arundel Castle, West Sussex

[ernestpembroke]

Send 😡 to find out who my muse considers intolerable.

Send 😡 to find out who my muse considers intolerable.

Surprisingly, there aren’t many that Ernest is completely intolerant of. As hurtful as Margaret ( @margaretmulgrave ) had been, if she were to approach him like she hadn’t roasted him last they spoke, Ernest would go along with it and be happy to be on decent terms. Ernest is a little more wary of Kenneth ( @themarquessofislay ), since he had gotten threatening at Effingham’s party but similarly, he wouldn’t hold a grudge at this point. Having said that, it would be on both Margaret and Kenneth to reach out first, since Ernest would assume they’d just have another unpleasant interaction if he were to approach them, which he’d rather avoid.

[lady-castleton]

⸻ 16 Aug 1800 . 10 in the morning . St. George’s, Mayfair

Few churches were busy on Saturdays, let alone at this hour, which passed for being the crack of dawn by the most fashionable in London. The bustling scene that greeted her upon entry came as a surprise.

She would have been run over by an attendant, dwarfed by the floral arrangement he was carrying, had Mrs. Henley not taken a most firm grip of her elbow and pulled her out of the way. 

Flowers. Everywhere she looked was a riot of fragrance and color, but with people buzzing about them rather than bees.

Mrs. Henley’s face was blank, placid, which meant her companion was put-out indeed. “I shall look for the clerk,” she said, turning. 

Alone, she drifted down the aisles. A stray hand reached out, brushing the petals lining them as she went: bright peonies, delicate orchids, a small waterfall of wisteria spilling down to the ground. 

Stopped right as she was caught red-handed, looking up into a thankfully familiar face. 

“Lady Mulgrave,” she murmured, a slow smile on her face. “How good to see you, and not through a mask or a veil.” She tilted her head at the flowers. “Is there to be a production of the Garden of Eden at tomorrow’s service, do you know? I have never heard a sermon in a hothouse before. You might think it would be distracting.”

@margaretmulgrave​ 

[lordedmund]

🌼

1.

Edmund’s weary eyes travelled out of the window, head rested gently against the padded indoors of the carriage. The sight he’s greeted with is breathtaking, managing to astound him even after he has seen it plenty of times on his travels to and from Oxford University. He silently marvelled at the radiant palace that lay in the distance, seemingly absorbing and reflection the rich colours of a golden sunset. Blenheim palace, he thought to himself, craning his neck to get a better view. The seat of the Duke of Marlborough - though that bore no real meaning to Edmund. To him it was the seat of the Lady Mulgrave, who he had been introduced to during his studies and whose company he rarely had the chance to enjoy, though when he did he held that time spent dear. He ought to pay her a visit, he thought, what would be the harm in one stop during his journey to meet with his old professor? And oh, what he would do for a chance to paint this marvel of architecture! Still, Edmund thought as he let his head fall against the window once more, the sun was about to set and paying a surprise visit - well, Edmund didn’t care much for etiquette, but he assumed it would be far from proper. So, with a sigh, he let Blenheim palace pass.

2.

Sat silently and somewhat solemnly next to Henrietta as she lamented her fate, his eyes fell upon the crumpled up scandal sheet that lay on the floor. His brow was furrowed in concern, not only for his dearest friend at his side but also for Lady Mulgrave, too. Society papers, he thought, or rather Lady Whistledown, they were vicious and ruthless and spared none as the tore through centuries old honorable reputations, made lives miserable - all for the sake of scandal. He, too, enjoyed the odd piece of gossip - but it all suddenly seemed so....near, dear and personal when one’s friend or acquaintance was involved. “There, there, Retta”, he murmured as he attempted to console her, reassuring his friend that she needn’t worry, rumours would pass in favor of another soon. His gaze searched the paper again  - and he briefly wondered if he should extend that same gesture of reassurance to Lady Mulgrave. No, Edmund thought, it was best not to meddle in other persons’ affairs. And he certainly didn’t want her to think that he only called on her out of pity.

3.

“Lady Mulgrave”, he said with a curt nod and a smile on his face as he entered the drawing room. “I do hope I am not disturbing you, I ... happened to be in the area, you see.” Edmund gripped the leather folder tucked under his arm tight. “A gallerist not far from here had asked me to pay him a visit, show him some of my work so that it might be presented in the gallery.”, he explained, then added with a sobered expression: “It will not.” He cleared his throat.” However - as I passed through Kensington I realised that I do have some sketches and drawings of Blenheim palace here in my folder. I wondered if they may be of some interest for you? I have dozens more at home - you see I passed by your palace quite often on my way to and from Oxford during my studies. Blenheim always was a subject that struck inspiration.”