be bold, be bold

then ladies well may wear/a world of worlds (miss ada lockwood, nineteen, the ward of sinclair lockwood)

[ladybeatricehunt-blog]

“We met at the pique-nique several weeks back,” Beatrice explained, unaware of the surprise she had caused.  Lady Vivienne had seemed a clever woman, though Beatrice wondered now at her seemingly being so well acquainted with someone as young as Miss Lockwood.  She supposed in the country, such friendships might be less unusual. “She seemed well at the time.  Hasn’t she called on you since then?”

Ada’s revelation of her book was truly surprising to Beatrice, which was not an easy feat.  Her interest in the girl, which had previously fallen in the area of mildly intriguing, suddenly sharpened.  “Chemistry! And you speak of being troubled by strange words.  I speak several languages, but the explanations of the discoveries of science have always eluded me.  However did you come upon the subject?”

[adalockwood]

“Oh.” The pique-nique (Ada did not dare try to actually say it, knowing how foolish the exaggerated French accent would sound in her mouth) was an event Ada had desperately wanted to attend. Moreover, it was an event she had expected to attend. Mrs Stanton could have accompanied her, she thought, if Sinclair was too busy, and what objection could he have to a picnic? Yet, alas, everyone’s schedules had been full and Ada had been left disappointed, staring out her bedroom window as if looking hard enough would cause the hills to level and offer her a clear view of the affair. This disappointment, almost forgotten, stung sharply once again upon hearing that Lady Danceny had been in attendance. 

‘I am glad she is well. She has not been to call, since-’ Ada broke off, not sure how much information she was able to divulge. It seemed to Ada that the broken engagement was something secretive - certainly, it was not a thing Sinclair ever spoke of and he was been so stiff-lipped about such matters that she did not dare ask. If Lady Danceny had not said anything, either, then to tell this lady now seemed an awful lot like gossiping.

‘I do not wish to be a scandalmonger and I do not know an awful lot myself,’ she continued, after some hesitance. ‘But the Lady Danceny is no longer so friendly with some of the persons in the Heights, and so she has not been a visitor as of late. I do miss her company.’ 

Although Ada knew her choice in reading was unusual, it seemed quite unimpressive when compared to the impossibility of learning languages. Knowing several, as Lady Hunt did, appeared to demonstrate a rather scary level of self-discipline. Still, it was nice to have someone take genuine interest, with no attempt to sway her towards topics More Suitable for Nice Young Ladies.

‘My father had a large library, which I was permitted to look through at leisure once my lessons were finished. When I was younger I would choose books at random; I would pick out the science books for the diagrams, mostly. It was only when I was older that I began to look at the accompanying explanations - there is so much in the world, that I had not fathomed.’ 

[ladybeatricehunt-blog]

“Ada Lockwood,” repeated Beatrice, mildly surprised.  “I am Lady Beatrice Hunt.  I must tell you, Miss Lockwood, that your acquaintance comes recommended by Lady Vivienne Danceny.”  She surveyed the girl in front of her once again, more appraisingly this time.  “I believe I have met Sir Rowley.  My impression was of a man whose ego and ambitions were inflated beyond what was justly earned.”  When the words were out of her mouth, it occurred to her that what was to Beatrice an observation on a character failing shared by many men, might to Ada seem an undeserved insult, or at least a shocking statement coming from a lady.  After a moment’s deliberation, she dismissed this fleeting concern - the words were out already and Beatrice’s value for the opinion of others was as low as ever.

She nodded and showed Ada her book, a volume of Livres des Merveilles du Monde. “I was planning on spending my afternoon with Marco Polo and the, er, latest from London, which is to say…,” she checked the date on the paper, “Wednesday’s news.”

She sighed, feeling as always that the delay in news was somehow a personal affront, an undeserved punishment for moving to the country.  “May I ask what you were reading that was so engrossing?”

[adalockwood]

‘It does?’ As usual, mention of Lady Danceny forced a response from Ada before she had time to think one through. A moment later, reddening slightly, Ada realised how abrupt she had been, how much higher her voice had become. Forcing herself to adopt a more normal tone, she added, ‘I did not know you were acquainted. I have not seen Lady Danceny in far too long - I do hope she is well. And it is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Hunt.’ 

Lady Hunt’s description of Sir Rowley made Ada smirk. There was a slight titter, lurking on the edge of her throat; she swallowed it back. Ada was not sure what to make of Sir Rowley, in all honesty - she did not know how to speak to him and they had not spent much time together. She wondered, sometimes, if she would be as wary of Sinclair, were they not related. 

‘I am not close with Sir Rowley,’ Ada replied, ‘but I do not dislike what I do know of him.' She hoped this response was measured enough. It wouldn’t do to insult the lady’s judgement, but she had nothing particularly bad to say about Sir Rowley, and making things up seemed needlessly cruel. 

Oh dear. A French book. Ada could translate the title, but knew how embarrassingly difficultshe would find it to read. She nodded, politely, feeling a little envious of Lady Hunt’s obvious skill. The book sounded interesting; anything describing the marvels of the world sounded interesting. 

‘Conversations on Chemistry,’ Ada said, lifting up her own book in turn. ‘I am afraid my French is far too poor for reading a book such as yours to be a leisurely activity - I should be forever troubled by one strange word or another.’ 

[adalockwood]

👫

1. Ada writes to Francis frequently. She knows Sinclair would not approve of this (the potential for scandal!) and is therefore somewhat secretive about it. Francis is witty and clever and similarly stifled, and Ada enjoys having a confidante in him. She isn’t vying for a proposal - really, she doesn’t think anything in the letters would shock - and uses this as a justification to keep on, without feeling too guilty about it.

2. In her head, Francis is something of a kindred spirit. Ada believes he is closest to being able to understand her particular frustrations - and, as such, he has unfortunately been subject to a fair few of her complaints.

3. Francis’ restlessness suits Ada to a tee. She feels similarly, albeit for different reasons, and as such they can be a fairly terrible influence on each other. It takes little coaxing for Ada to form plans to sneak away, if only for a time, and letters from Francis have often convinced her to do so. How far these plans have gotten is another matter - Ada is not as good at planning ahead as she would like to be, and has narrowly avoided being caught on many occasions.

4. Ada has heard romanticised stories about the navy - adventure and glory and so on - and they are just the kind of stories that she is taken in by. Still, she is not sure that she wants Francis to go. She would miss him, for a start, and there is always a danger with such jobs. The things that give the stories such excitement and interest seem very different when viewed as Things That Could Happen to Francis. She has not told him about these concerns, though; after complaining so often about being kept on a leash, it seems horribly hypocritical to do the same to him.

[adalockwood]

👫 ~

1. Ada often thinks of her once-encounter with Louisa; between the ability to travel unaccompanied - and so young! - and a houseful of sisters, she has decided the younger girl must live an ideal life. She has formed her own version of Bracknell Grange in her mind. It is an idyllic cottage, constantly filled with chatter, with decidedly less of the formality of her own home. Ada’s Bracknell Grange is also void of any arguments that could not be described as ‘friendly, joking bickering’ and any serious upset. Perhaps it isn’t the most realistic picture, but Ada doesn’t worry so much about that - it’s so pretty. 

2. Although she isn’t entirely sure how to tell Sinclair about the meeting with Louisa without getting one - or both- of them in trouble, Ada hopes to have her as a friend.  

3. Ada admires Louisa. She had always thought of herself as daring, but is realising now that dissatisfaction at her situation doesn’t automatically make her bold - and she is wary of getting other’s disapproval. Louisa seems far more willing to break the rules and, although Ada knows Sinclair would dislike it, she wishes to be similarly daring. 

4. She’s been trying to find out a little more about Louisa. It isn’t easy - she doesn’t want to be seen as knowing more than she ought to - but she hovers close to promising conversations, hoping to hear mention of the Hastings family. If they come up, Ada presumes it won’t take more than a few careful questions to direct things towards the sisters; perhaps she’ll find a way to keep up correspondence, or - joy of joys - find reason for them to be invited over to Thrushcross themselves. 

[alinamaximoffrogers-archive-blog]

Send a 👫and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship

[ladybeatricehunt-blog]

Beatrice nodded, using her newspaper to swat idly at a bumblebee that ventured too close to her face as the girl stood.  “Better a poor bandit than a skillful one, I suppose.  I have disturbed your afternoon of solitude then.  My apologies, to be sure.”  She was half curious, half amused by the child in front of her.  The girl had been taught manners, and executed them decently enough.  She knew well though how few well-born families would let their daughters roam freely.

“Thrushcross,” she mused, trying to remember what she had been told about the estates in the area.  “I don’t believe I have been acquainted with that house.  You must forgive my unfamiliarity.  I am new to the county, you see, and since moving here, have neglected my calls in favor of admiring the landscape.  A situation I will be pressed to rectify soon enough, I’m sure.”  Beatrice excused herself with the carelessness of someone who didn’t particularly mind whether she was pardoned or not, but went through the niceties of it by rote anyway. She continued talking. “You can be sure that nothing has been spoiled in the slightest.  Besides, I would never begrudge a girl a quiet place to read a book.”

[adalockwood]

‘Please, do not apologise.’ Ada smiled. ‘If I truly wanted solitude, I should not have positioned myself next to a path.’ 

So far, Ada was inclined to like the lady: she had not been too easily startled and seemed polite and witty. It was a relief to hear she was new to the area, saving Ada the embarrassment of being too unacquainted with her neighbours. It also meant that she was less likely to know that Ada was not supposed to be out unescorted, meaning that, if Ada was careful, Sinclair need not find out. 

‘The landscape provides a more than adequate distraction,’ she replied. ‘Sinclair Lockwood is the owner of Thrushcross - and I am Ada Lockwood, his cousin. There are others here too - Sir Michael Rowley and the Sutcliffes - if you have ever come across them in town?’ 

Ada stopped at this. She did not see how she could invite the lady over without revealing to Sinclair that she had been outside and did not know how to explain this to the lady without revealing that she was her cousin’s ward. Instead, Ada let her eyes wander over to the book and newspaper in the lady’s arm. Squinting, she tried to make out the book’s title, finding it just obscured. 

‘I am happy I did not disturb you. Were you, also, looking for a place to read? There is a little clearing in the woods, about a half-mile off, that is quite lovely.’ 

[ladybeatricehunt-blog]

Beatrice was in no particular hurry.  Her morning had been well wasted pressing the Greyfriars steward about some structural deficiencies on the northeastern side of the hall, then enduring the usual criticisms from her uncle about the segments of estates that ladies without husbands were and weren’t supposed to run.  It was a worn argument between them and they had both been tired of it today, too bitter to say their lines with much humor.

When she had excused herself from his company in order to change for the afternoon, she had not gone to her room but down to the kitchen and out the back.  By now, her uncle would surely have noticed her gone, but since each of them had little control over the other and even disguising her exit was mostly a charade for the sake of propriety, she expected he would let it lie. There was no dignity to be gained for either of them in raising a fuss over the matter.

Still in her morning dress, armed with a book and a newspaper that she had nabbed after breakfast, she set about looking for some spot to conquer for the duration of the afternoon.  The day was all that one could want from a midsummer’s afternoon.  Sunbeams broke through the trees all along the path and a chipmunk darted out from under the hedge, pursued, that Beatrice could see, by nothing but its own fear.  

The path was an isolated one; she had not expected to see someone walking along it, much less posted next to it, sprawled on the ground.  She slowed, even as the girl muttered a greeting.  “I must say, this is a a sight I am unfamiliar with.”  Beatrice stopped with a hand on one hip and shifted her book to the crook of her arm.  She looked at the girl for a few moments, then continued, perfectly dryly,  “I should tell you that this is not quite the highway I would recommend for banditry.  The southern road is more travelled and I would estimate it a more plum target.”

[adalockwood]

Ada had been expecting either a firm reprimand, from someone who knew the particulars of her position as Sinclair’s ward, or something in the way of a strained, polite greeting. This lady’s comment, even-toned and witty, was more welcome than both. Ada could not hold back a little laugh. 

‘I would be a poor bandit indeed, Miss,’ she replied, gathering herself at last and standing up. She was a little stiff, having sat reading for too long, but the attempt was not altogether ungraceful. ‘I have no desire to steal, and even less strength with which to do so. I pricked my finger on my brooch this morning, but I fear the needle would not hold up against an actual sword.’ Ada wondered if she was going on too much of a tangent and fell silent, bobbing her head in greeting. The damp grass had evidently not soaked through her skirts - she did not feel damp - but Ada now feared it had stained. Her back was concealed for the moment, facing the shrubbery, but she did not want a scolding from the residents of Thrushcross Heights upon her return.

It seemed some explanation for her ungainly position was necessary and, not recognising the woman, Ada decided to give the more honest one. ‘I am from Thrushcross,’ she added, nodding towards the hedge, ‘and I desired a change of scenery as I read. This seemed such a quiet road that I did not plan on being noticed at all - else I might have found a more ladylike pose.’ She paused again, trying to determine whether the woman was more disapproving or amused. 'I hope I did not spoil the scenery too much - it is such a lovely day, and place, for a stroll.’ 

[adalockwood]

Ada was outside the grounds. 

This was the smallest possible rebellion; she had only clambered through a gap in the bushes bordering the garden to settle down, right next to them, with her book. Teatime was approaching - she could be called in at any moment and dared not risk going any further afield. This little space seemed quiet enough to go unnoticed, being out of the way of the front of the house. 

Really, it did not bring much change; the sun still shone, the grass was still slightly damp, the area still isolated. The small sense of freedom that came alongside being out of the garden, unaccompanied, should not be worth the risk of Sinclair’s disapproval. But it was. Crawling through shrubbery and hiding from her relatives seemed a less than orthodox way in which to establish herself as a lady, but there was a grown-up feeling (or, at least, Ada thought so) about having something of her own. These excursions were her secret, this hour in the afternoon her time, to spend as she chose. Even this place felt like her own - next to the little footpath, with the hedge’s stiff, blunted branches poking into her back. There was a dandelion next to her - the sort of weed that was near impossible to find on the other side of the hedge - clouded over with seeds. Ada kept her book pressed open with her right hand as she reached over to pluck the flower, counting how many puffs it took until the stalk was left bare. 

It took twelve, eight of them spent on the last two, particularly stubborn, seeds. Task finished, stalk tossed aside, Ada was trying to shift to a more comfortable position when she noticed the person approaching. 

Her first instinct was to panic and retreat. She was, after all, being caught red-handed doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Reason followed, after she had snapped her book closed, stopping her from scarpering. After all, they may not know Ada ought not to be outside and it would look far more peculiar should she now duck down and attempt to bash her way through a hedge. Still, Ada did not feel quite as composed as she should; the figure was approaching altogether too quickly for her to pull herself together. She managed only a sheepish smile as they walked past, coupled with a mumbled ‘good afternoon’ and a silent prayer that they did not know anything was amiss.

[sunlightthroughwater]

Just like as in a nest of boxes round, Degrees of sizes in each box are found: So, in this world, may many others be Thinner and less, and less still by degree: Although they are not subject to our sense, A world may be no bigger than two-pence. Nature is curious, and such works may shape, Which our dull senses easily escape: For creatures, small as atoms, may there be, If every one a creature’s figure bear. If atoms four, a world can make, then see What several worlds might in an ear-ring be: For, millions of those atoms may be in The head of one small, little, single pin. And if thus small, then ladies may well wear A world of worlds, as pendents in each ear.

~  Margaret Cavendish, “Of Many Worlds in This World” (via sunlightthroughwater)

[ofnimbleness-blog]

“Yes, of course, I am listening.” The young woman said as she turned her head towards the direction of the person who was talking to her. “Just this book that I have been reading… Very hard to put it down. It is such a page turner something is always going on on each page.”

[adalockwood]

Ada’s prattle - a long, drawn out complaint about the frequent downpours that had characterised the weekend, and how difficult it had been to convince anyone to accompany her outside - ceased as soon as Lady Ainsworth drew attention to her book. Ada had been so caught up in her own conversation that she had scarcely noticed the volume, looking dark clouds that gathered outside the window as she spoke. She hoped Lady Ainsworth’s reply was not a politely disguised rebuke. Ada did not wish to be rude, yet it was even harder to quit conversation now, when Lady Ainsworth had introduced a new, more interesting topic. Thoughts of rain put aside, Ada leaned forwards, head twisted to one side in an attempt to read the book’s spine. 

‘I am sorry; I did not realise you were reading,’ she said and, as soon as this formality was done with, added, ‘and may I ask what it is called? And what it is about?’ 

[viviennedanceny-blog]

“I am glad to hear you are satisfied with your new companion. You deserve someone who will look out for you and cherish you dearly, much like I do.” Vivienne replied with a gentle smile on her lips. She did adore young Ada to pieces. Her smile widened slightly as the younger Lockwood squeezed her hands in return, but she felt her smile falter at the latter comment.

Sinclair.

It would be a lie to say that Vivienne did not want to see him, no matter how much she pretended and assured herself that not seeing him is exactly what she desires. Forcing her smile to return to her lips, she gave Ada another gentle squeeze, a sad pout forming on her lips. “You are always welcome in my home. Should your guardian let you visit me, I would be more than happy to have you there with me.” She gently said, before an idea popped in her mind.

“If you would like so, I can write to him to grant you permission to visit me as much as you would like.” Vivienne offered, her mind already scheming and plotting the best ways she could have that done. 

[adalockwood]

Ada trusted Lady Danceny, almost entirely without question. It was not wise; it would not give Sinclair any confidence in her ability to carry herself; it would have troubled Ada, had she ever seriously thought about it. Yet she had not, and consequentially held an almost blind faith in the woman. She beamed as Lady Danceny spoke - it was always a comfort to hear that the woman was also fond of her company. Ada did not doubt for an instant that she would write to Sinclair with the utmost sensitivity and politeness. In fact, she had already nodded her consent, bright eyed and eager, before she thought better of it. 

Would it be wise to encourage correspondence between the former couple? Ada knew nothing of romance and neither Sinclair nor Lady Danceny had told her much of their relationship. She was clueless as to why Sinclair had broken it off and she had no idea how Lady Danceny had felt about this. The last thing Ada wanted was to encourage Lady Danceny to do something that would distress her, only to make Ada happy. She would feel unforgivably selfish for asking. 

‘Only if it would be no trouble, Lady Danceny,’ Ada amended. ‘I do not want to-’ 

Here she paused, unsure how much she could say without appearing presumptuous. ‘I do not want to cause any discomfort or...to ask of you something that might upset-’ 

Another little pause. Ada swallowed, finding it was easier to gain composure if she was staring firmly at the grass. ‘I would be delighted to visit you - and I am sure that you would be ever so fond of Mrs Stanton - but please do not feel obliged to go to any trouble on my account.’ 

[sophieainsworth-blog1]

Sophie smiled as she stepped forward, following the footmen who had greeted her at the gate. “Ah Miss Lockwood, long time no see my dear. Are you well?” She asked as she looked around the room for Sinclair. “Yes, is he not here?” 

[adalockwood]

‘Not at present, I am afraid,’ replied Ada, bobbing a little acknowledgement to the lady before glancing about herself, wondering how best to proceed. ‘I am quite well, thank you, Lady Ainsworth - and how are you?’ 

Ada was not quite as well-acquainted with the elder Ainsworth and, therefore, not as comfortable entertaining her unaccompanied. Yet she did not want to send her away, nor did she particularly want to leave whilst she searched for Mrs Stanton. Ada smiled, deciding that it would do no real harm to play hostess for a short while - Lady Ainsworth was nice, after all, and there could be no damage done to her or Sinclair’s reputation. Perhaps, if she was polite and mature enough, Sinclair might be impressed by her conduct.

‘He will be back shortly, if you should like to wait, Lady Ainsworth. I could have tea brought out.’

[viviennedanceny-blog]

Vivienne didn’t look at many people with fondness, especially not when they appeared to be of childlike manner, but for a strange reason, she didn’t look at Ada Lockwood as childish. Quite the contrary, she liked that trait of hers. Taking a few steps towards the younger girl, Vivienne reached with her hands and took hold of Ada’s, almost instinctively – she wasn’t quite sure what was it that she was doing and why.

Frowning at the words, Vivienne puckered up her lips in a small pout. “I am sad to hear you will be snatched away from my presence so soon, and I have just been graced with your presence after so long. But, tell me then, swiftly. How have you been, my dear? Are your acquaintances treating you with respect and do your friends visit often? Oh, I wish I was a proper friend, but certain – circumstance wouldn’t let me visit. You, however, are more than welcome to visit me anytime you would wish.” She chatted, finding herself to me suddenly more talkative then ever.

[adalockwood]

Ada did not feel uncomfortable as Lady Danceny took her hands - she never could feel uncomfortable, exactly, around Lady Danceny - but she found herself unsure how to respond. Affection from the woman was always different, more significant, than any she received from her usual friends. It was because she admired Lady Danceny so, Ada reasoned. She wanted the woman to think fondly of her. 

‘I do wish I could stay longer,’ Ada said, sincerely meaning it. ‘But I have been very well, thank you. Everyone is very good to me - I have a new companion now, and she is far more good-natured than the last. The visitors have mostly been for Mr Lockwood, but I do believe the younger Lady Ainsworth is coming to see me soon. And ’ - Ada’s voice rose at this, just slightly, in her insistence, and she found herself squeezing Lady Vivienne’s hands - ‘you are, of course, a proper friend! I very much wish you could visit me, or I you, if only-’

Here, Ada faltered, unsure how to finish her sentence. Of course, there was nothing expressly forbidding her from asking Sinclair. He was just so formal, so private, when conducting his own affairs. She had no idea of the particulars of his relationship with Lady Danceny and could not imagine bringing it up around him. 

‘If only I knew how to ask. I would not want to cause trouble, or discomfort.’ 

[adalockwood]

If she was not more concerned by her own demeanour, Ada might have been more bothered by the interruption. As it was, caught licking jam from her fingers, well aware of the brioche she had just pilfered, Ada was far more preoccupied with seeming as innocent as possible. 

‘Pardon me - was it Mr Lockwood you were looking for?’ 

[ofnimbleness-blog]

While rain and thunderstorms never bothered her and being caught in the rain was always entertaining, the aftermath of getting dried off annoyed her. The feeling of heavy fabrics hanging off her petite body was quite difficult and walking was nearly impossible. Lifting her long gown from the moist dirt beneath her, Jane continues to walk with Miss Lockwood and began to speak of other matters. “The rain is no enemy to me, Miss Lockwood. Though, it turns to be the most burden whenever it prevents me from anything. But did I stay home during this thunderstorm? I think not!” The young Ainsworth said proudly, a large grin appearing on her face. 

Walking into the home of the Lockwood’s, Jane removed her small fabric that she used as a coat and hung it up on a rack with the other coats that hang. She then smoothed down her gown to remove the wrinkles and eventually gave up on it. Looking around the woman’s home, she was noticing something was off… Was something different? She couldn’t find out, but perhaps it was because she hasn’t been to her home in quite some time that everything looks…. Different. “Miss Lockwood, did you paint or perhaps even redecorated?” Lady Ainsworth questioned, placing her hand beneath her chin as she thought. “Something in here looks different!” 

[adalockwood]

‘I do not mind it so much when I had planned to sit inside, but it is a terrible thing for preventing walks.’ Ada turned to look at Lady Ainsworth, seeing her wide smile and beaming in response. ‘And I am so glad you did not! I should have begrudged the rain forever had it kept me from your company.’ 

Ada had not thought to put on so much as a shawl, and so wasted no time walking into the room. She had not noticed that Lady Ainsworth was some distance behind her until she spoke up; Ada turned around, walking the few steps back to join the woman’s side, and looked about her. 

‘I do not believe they could have pained without my noticing,’ she began, taking a careful itinerary of the furniture. Now, when had Lady Ainsworth last visited? Everything looked much the same. The same carved mahogany, the same heavy, patterned carpets - with the same little snag on one of the lilies, where Ada had almost tripped over. ‘Perhaps it is simply the flowers? Much as I adore winter, I had not realised how much I missed having flowers around the house.’ 

[sasha-ivanovich-blog]

Sasha continued to play, sliding his glance to Ada when he felt he wouldn’t be observed, fingers moving seemingly of their own accord– he found with every passing minute, the melody came back to him  a little clearer, the memory of lessons by governesses with his sister (his brothers engaged in something more befitting their future duties to their fortune and their names– they saw how well that endeavor had turned out, hadn’t they?). Natalia had always been too stubborn to receive instruction, too willful to do anything except bang out plunking tunes of her own imagination, while Sasha had found playing soothing, a space no one could reach him.

He smiled, gently, tilting his head towards her, flushing a little under the acuteness of her praise. It wasn’t as though he was searching for praise– but it was a welcome find, especially from her. It was a bad habit of Sasha’s: to berate himself and then wait for the compliments to flow. He resolved to try to stop it, and knew he wouldn’t keep his resolve. 

“It is a fascinating language,” he conceded, fascinating, of course, meaning impossible and endlessly irritating. “I had lessons in English and French when I was younger, but– I could not have prepared myself for this emersion.” Perhaps she would ask him to tutor her in French– now, wouldn’t that be a sight, if Sinclair were to see him at a respectful distance, educating Ada? “In Russia, summers are very different– unless one goes to Switzerland or perhaps Pavlovsk, the city grows hot and everyone runs amuck. Not that we don’t run amuck in Pavlovsk…” He trailed off, grinning slightly. He’d never been one for the Russian pastime of hysteria and debauchery, but it was a little fun to pretend.

[adalockwood]

‘Your grasp of it is exquisite,’ Ada replied, admitting, ‘I have no natural gift for languages.’ She also had no patience for practising them, but Ada was reluctant to tell this much. She did not need the entire household viewing her as some ignorant child. 

Ada’s limited reading, where Russia was concerned, had not led her to associate it with warmth. Her mental image had been a foggy one, of biting cold and snow, a foreign alphabet, palaces with elaborate, curving roofs. This time, Ada did not let her lack of knowledge keep her from enquiring further. Although Russia had not been a topic of interest before, it did not take much to pique her curiosity; just a sense of the Other, something as-yet-unknown that she could probe into. She had not thought, before, of ever leaving England, but now it appeared an exciting possibility. Sasha, it seemed, was coping well enough on a foreign shore. She wondered if she would be able to do the same, if only for a little while. 

Of course, that would not happen. Sinclair would never allow it, and Ada could not even speak passable French. But it was such a nice daydream that she was unwilling to let it slip down to the back of her mind just yet. 

‘What is Pavlovsk like? I do not think it gets particularly hot here - at least not often - and I have never known anyone to run amuck. Then again,’ Ada paused, head tilted, now musing aloud. ‘I have only ever had acquaintances approved by my father, or Mr Lockwood. Perhaps I have simply not met the right sort of people.’ 

[adalockwood]

mr-june-shirley:

June added a smile of appreciation as Ada assured her going all the way back down stairs and setting up the entire table and laying out the whole breakfast would not be necessary.·“I do not believe it is of much harm, Miss. Just a sniffle but one enough to make himself and others uncomfortable, I suppose.”·

The footman had to ponder the next question. Would Sir Lockwood allow her presence? She guessed it all depended on how the lord of the house was feeling at the moment but the fake boy currently had no way of knowing.·“I am not quite sure at this moment, Miss. If you would like I could…”·

June’s sentence fell away as she watched Ada inch closer, having to stop herself from instinctively moving away. Why couldn’t she meet her eyes? The fake boy didn’t know but Miss Ada’s question nearly went unnoticed.·“Oh- ehm, there is a selection of fried eggs, sausages, and toast with butter and jam.” June managed stiffly and somewhat awkwardly.·

‘I am glad to hear it,’ Ada said, smiling. A cold was nothing to worry about and, if it was not serious it was likely that Sinclair would permit Ada to see him later in the day. She lifted a hand, slightly, to stop the boy, who already appeared to be planning to leave and ask. Ada wondered how old he was - he could not be older than her, being so short and clean-shaven. She wondered if he even needed to shave, yet. It did not seem as if he had been working long; he was so jittery, so eager to please. It was sweet, albeit a little disconcerting. Everyone else in the house appeared so sure of themselves. Ada had often felt like the odd one out.·

‘Perhaps not right now - I am sure he would like a little rest.’ And Ada, for her part, wanted breakfast. She smiled at the contents of the little tray, motioning towards the table and waiting for it to be set down.·‘Strawberry jam?’·

Eating along, of course, would feel odd, and Ada found herself reluctant to let her company go. She waited for the tray to be lifted, glancing about her room, before venturing to ask,·‘And how is everybody, this morning? It is so late and I have yet to meet anyone else.’·