The Jane

[dianabartlett]

conradmowbray​:

•

He was standing too close, he knew, but Diana had always had a magnetism about her. And he wasn’t the only one who felt it. Everyone who came in contact with her was drawn in. She was beautiful, yes, strikingly so, but it went far beyond that. She was infinitely clever, magnanimous in such a way that one felt insufficient in her presence. She had a wild ability to make those around her feel seen, and heard– truly. She was made of heart, and soul and mind completely and he was… 

A coward. But a decisive one. 

Taking a step back, Conrad nodded. Once, absolute. “I am not seeking any answers from you, Diana. Know that.” He straightened, looking her in the eye. “Perhaps it is best if we keep distance. I do not want to interfere with your season, and…” He did not need any distractions. He would be efficient. Successful. “It was good to see you.”

He faltered there for a moment, before turning to take his leave. 

[End here or with you!]

She knew she should take a step away from him, but she could not will her feet to move. She found she was always pulled to him when they were near, like gravity holding her in his orbit, and old habits were hard to break. When she was near him, she was reminded of all the things she loved of him- which she wished was not the case. It would have been easier to fall out of love with him if he wasn’t a man worth loving, if he hadn’t captured her entirely those years ago. If only he were not one of the most intelligent men she had ever met, if only he was not thoughtful enough to have taken notice of the smallest pieces of herself, if only he had not drawn her out and made her feel seen and alive.

She was saved the torture of stepping away from him when he did it first. She could barely find the words to reply to him, to say something, anything, but somehow managed to eke out, “If you so desire, Conrad.” Before watching him retreat, feeling a new hairline crack take form in her heart as he repeated history, and left her.

[end]

[dianabartlett]

emptycharms​:

sarah-st-john​:

-

It was determined that the entryway was too dangerous a place for ceramics; Sarah found herself leading a parade of vases into the back garden, watching closely as the staff set them down, one by one, next to the more rooted plants there. 

She had been just about to head back inside after the last footman had trooped back in, but noticed a familiar face she had not seen in, oh, months!

“Lady Bartlett? Oh! How lovely to run into you again! Why, we have not spoken since… since the mineral spa trip, back in May! Oh, but how well you look.” Sarah beamed, smile faltering only slightly when she realised the Viscountess was not alone. “Oh, and your friend as well. I do hope you are enjoying yourselves; it has been quite entertaining to watch everyone fall over each other in their searching, oh!”

Something behind Lady Bartlett caught her eye. “Oh! Whyever is that window open so wide? I shall have to get someone to close it; Cousin Ar – my cousin the Earl has been wary of unwanted birds flying in as of late. But if you are looking for a nice, quiet spot, there is a lovely bench under the willow tree back there, you see, by the wisteria? Oh! And it has a clear view of the camellias here, and all the guests that seem to think something is hidden under the bushes.”

[OOC: There is nothing in the ballroom vase, but no matter, you are both in the garden now! Will you head over to the bench next, as suggested, or explore the camellias? Roll for round two and reply here, before posting link in the Discord.]

Guest / Invite No. 5 / Back Garden / Roll: 4 !!

June couldn’t help the delighted grin that broke out across her face as Diana clambered gracefully through the window, and she reached up to take the other woman’s hand, providing her with something steady to hold onto as she dropped down onto the dirt beneath the window. “You are a marvel, Lady Bartlett,” June laughed, absolutely delighted by Diana’s actions, and then turned at the sudden sound of another voice. She didn’t recognize the other woman, though she clearly knew Diana, and June affixed a blandly pleasant smile on her face as she listened to her speak. “Oh, that does sound lovely,” she admitted, looking over at the wisteria and the aforementioned bench. “Should we––?” June asked Diana, brows raising, before heading towards the bench, tilting her head slightly as she walked to see if there was anything hiding in the grass beneath the bench.

Guest / Invite No. 14 / Back Garden / Roll: 3

Diana was most grateful for the hand that Miss Croft proffered to help her steady herself. The sound of the other woman’s laugh caused an odd flipping feeling in her stomach, and she colored slightly at June’s words. “Oh, no, it was nothing,” she protested. Suddenly a voice rang out behind them, and Diana turned (somewhat curiously disappointed as June’s hand slipped from her own in the process) to see Miss St. John approaching. She smiled warmly at the newcomer. “Miss St. John! What a delight to see you again, we must catch up after the scavenger hunt,” she declared. “This is Miss June Croft, a new friend of mine.”

Miss St. John’s suggestion sounded lovely. “Thank you very much, I think we shall! I will find you later,” she promised. She followed June to the bench and took a seat, but not before peering up into the willow tree’s branches, hoping that perhaps the statue might be tucked away, hidden by the foliage.

[dianabartlett]

ernestpembroke​:

-

Ernest was stumbling home from a party, drunk and merry. The night air was cool enough to steady him a little, as well as give him an excuse for his rosy cheeks. It wasn’t cold but the breeze offered a pleasant chill, a welcome change from the regular July heat. Hands stuffed into his pockets, he raised a brow when he saw a gentleman standing outside a house, staring up at it. A lover yearning for their lady, perhaps? He smiled a little which promptly changed to a look of confusion when she saw him sink into the shadows. No, perhaps this was something a good deal more sinister.

“Pardon me,” Ernest said, deciding in his drunken reverie to make this his business, “you there, what is your business at this estate?” Ernest approached him, coming near enough that he could start to take in his features, the shadows doing a great deal of work to keep him from recognize that this was in fact a lady. “It’s a bit odd to hide, staring at someone’s fine home, you know. I’d ask if I should be concerned but I am, as well as a great deal interested.”

A thought seemed to occur to him and his smirk faded to a look far more uneasy. “You aren’t a robber, are you?“ It only just dawned on him that he might be interrupting someone that was armed and prepared to cause harm.

Suddenly, there was a voice ringing out behind her, and she froze. Oh, no. Oh no. This could not be happening. Certainly she was not being caught, in these clothes, by a man, directly outside her home. She weighed her options in her head. She could try to outrun him- but he must be taller than her, and likely quicker, too. He would catch her. She could try to disguise herself- her voice? Deepen it, and try to sound like a man? No, she would never get the timbre right, and if he caught sight of her face, the charade would be lost. She could lie about her identity and he would be none the wiser. Pretend to be a maid or a cook who was locked out of her mistress’ home. Yes, perhaps that was the right choice- except, no, a member of staff would not be locked out. She would have a key, and she would not be out so late. No respectable woman would, she reminded herself. So she resigned herself to her fate, took one deep breath for courage, and turned to face the man.

“I- I live here.” She spoke with as much conviction as she could muster. “If you must know, I am locked out of my house, and wondering if I am able to get in through my window,” She gestured towards the open window, one story up. A trellis stood against the wall, but it had snapped on the last foothold on her way down, and she was worried to try and climb it now.

“I am no robber,” the gasp in her tone was real, for once, not mockery or teasing as was so often her nature. “I simply.... I simply do not know how to get back inside, and you can see the obvious dilemma in staying out here,” she ground out, far more irritated with herself than with him.

[dianabartlett]

emptycharms​:

.

“I promise I take no offense,” June said, laughing a little as she did. The coolness of the water was relaxing her, melting away any frustration she might have had. The heat was little more than a passing irritation now; the distant drone of a fly near a window, soon to disappear back out onto a breeze. “The spring has won an honest victory, and I cannot begrudge it that.” 

The beginning of the season. June hummed softly in response, acknowledging that she’d heard the other woman as she sat with her eyes closed, her fingertips digging into the grass behind her. “Has it been particularly interesting this year?” She asked, affecting a disinterested tone of voice as she did so, even as she quietly burned for gossip. She felt so out of sorts here, sometimes; in Oxfordshire, June had been a rather large fish in a small pond. Here, she could have been a ghost. “Me? Oh, I only arrived a few days ago,” she admitted, straightening her spine and then bending forward, rinsing the dirt from her hands in the water. She cupped her hands once they were clean, filling them just a touch with some of the spring water, and then splashed her neck with it, her body cooling down further as the water hit the back of her neck and rolled down her spine, soaking lines down the fabric of her dress. “I very nearly managed to evade the whole thing, but, alas…” She trailed off, smiling at Diana as if the two were sharing a secret. “Did you know young ladies are supposed to find husbands here? It’s absolutely fascinating.” She laughed now, shaking her head at her own poor joke. 

Diana chuckled in response. “I appreciate your being so understanding. If we had met in a less warm week, I assure you would have been top of the list.” As it was, the heat seemed less stifling and overbearing now that she was in cool water, and since she had made a new friend. “I will say, you make a far better conversation partner than the spring does.”

The uninterested tone from the other woman made Diana take notice. Surely, Miss Croft was more intrigued than she let on, but what if she was not? Perhaps her mind was occupied by other things as well? Of course, Diana loved a good tidbit of gossip- in London society, one could never truly say they did not pay attention to such things, it was almost all that could fill the day- but there was always the chance Miss Croft was not only interested in gossip. “Well, it has been quite the season thus far- plenty of excitement. The Bennetton Regatta, the Queen’s Ball... yes, very exciting indeed.” She chanced a conspiratorial look at her newfound friend. “Is there anyone in particular you are asking after?”

“Oh, well! Welcome. I am terribly sorry you did not manage to escape us all. I hope we prove to be up to snuff.” Diana grinned warmly, any rancor in her words belied by her gentle tone. The other woman’s next words brought on a very unladylike laugh. “What?” She mimed shock. “This is the very first I am hearing of such a thing!” A laugh escaped her and she shook her head. “Some days I would swear that this world only thinks women are good for breeding and looking attractive. God forbid we have something of substance in our heads.” Her last sentence held all of her frustrations over the years- every time she had been told a man wasn’t interested in a woman with her nose in a book, every insinuation that if she was more interested in fashion and decorum she may find a husband, her mother’s growing urges that she marry. It was nearly enough to sink Diana to the bottom of the spring, the weight of expectations suddenly a vise around her shoulders. She sighed, releasing the tension, trying to find a light-hearted smile. “Apologies. A touchy subject.”

[dianabartlett]

baronwillliam​:

.

As a man with a younger sister who had many friends, William was well aware of the various shrieks, squeals, and shouts they could make in their excitement and a feminine outburst was something that William liked to consider himself better suited to handle that some members of the ton. Despite that, he was still caught off-guard by the sudden effusive congratulations offered by Lady Bartlett, a display that utterly eclipsed anything he would have thought of her. She seemed happy for him, happy in a way that Effingham and his mother weren’t. She was uncontrollably, giddily pleased for him, and something inside of William melted the same way it did when he’d managed to please his sister Winifred.

“She is a delight and I’ll be happy to see if she would care to visit.” There it was, that strange thrill, realizing that he could go places with Catherine and not simply because they both received an invitation and happened to show up, but because they were invited together. It was enough to cause a lump in the throat, a hitched breath, and he couldn’t yet comprehend that one day, that would be life. Invitations came for them both, what a thrill.

Clearing his throat, William shifted his weight as he tried to contain himself, reverting back to a proper level of decorum as long as once ignored the slight twitch at the corner of his lips. “I think both would be pleasant. Maybe she would like to go one day, I’m not sure. I don’t think she’s travelled far, but I saw the Christmas Markets in Germany and they were beautiful. Stalls set up in rows with gifts of all kinds, decorations strewn between them and candles lit up everywhere until the entire thing is shining like a miniature village.”

“Oh, good,” Diana replied. “Oh, I am so pleased for the both of you. And here I thought you had no interest in marriage, Lord Hastings. She must be a gem indeed to have changed your mind.” She suddenly found that she could not stop herself from grinning. He was a kind man, though he often seemed perplexed by her (understandably- she frequently confounded herself) and deserved nothing but abject happiness.

She tactfully did not tease him about the the smile threatening to show on his face (though she longed to- was this what having a brother would have been like?) and allowed him to change the subject a bit. “Oh, surely she would be! Whoever would want to turn down such an event?” Her eyes seemed faraway now, shimmering with the idea of the markets. “They sound beautiful. I should be lucky to see one someday,” she told him. “If you ever visit another... would you send me a letter, telling me of them? I do believe it would make the whole thing come even more alive for me.”

She cleared her throat. “Of course, you do not need to if you think it may cause issues with Miss Lockhart,” she added hastily. “It’s just... well, I consider you a friend. I would love to hear of the adventures the pair of you have.”

[dianabartlett]

emptycharms​:

Guest / Invite No. 5 / Back Garden / Roll: 6 !! Guest [ @dianabartlett​ ] / Invite No. 14 / Ballroom / Roll: ___

“A gold collar with lapis and turquoise triangles,” June murmured, staring at her invitation and then looking up, her eyes scanning the garden for any flash of gold in the lingering light. Like a needle in a haystack, she thought, scowling slightly. She’d be out here for hours if she went at this alone, but as she looked around the garden, she didn’t recognize any of the figures poking around. Hesitating for the briefest of moments, June turned towards the open windows, and began to poke around in the bushes beneath one of the windowsills. As she did, she chanced a glance through the windows, and spied Lady Bartlett in the ballroom as she did. Brightening, June waved through the window, hissing a soft little pssst! as she did. “Lady Bartlett!” She called in a stage whisper, gesturing for the other woman to join her at the window. “Perhaps we could cover more ground together?”

Guest / Invite No. 14 / Ballroom / Roll 7

Diana stared at her invitation, biting her lower lip absentmindedly. A dark bronze statue of a cat seemed both very easy to find (a cat! surely that would stand out!) and terribly difficult (A small statue may have been hidden in any number of places in a large ballroom such as this.) She glanced up from her invitation, squinting as she peered around the room. She wasn’t terribly certain of her choice, but she peered into a decorative vase displayed near a window. She managed not to tip the vase over as she heard a small pssst noise, followed by her name, surprised into looking up, straight out the window, into Miss Croft’s eyes. A wide smile lit up her features. “Oh, Miss Croft!” Diana exclaimed softly. She glanced backwards at the rest of the party-goers in the room before looking back to the other woman and nodded. “Absolutely. I believe we might make great progress that way.” She considered for a moment, “Stand back. No one is paying attention to me, and it’s lovely outside. I am coming through.” Luckily she had plenty of experience in crawling through windows. Making sure that no one’s attention was on her, Diana pushed the window open a bit more as carefully as possible, and moving quickly, swung her legs up and through the open window, sliding out to the back garden carefully and quietly. Luckily, she managed to make it outdoors without ruining her dress even a bit.

[dianabartlett]

conradmowbray​:

•

They were talking about weather, for God’s sake. It was one of the crueler things about life, the cycle from stranger, to lover, and back again. He had once known the rhythm of her heart, the shades of her hair depending on the sun and how high it stood in the sky, he could guess at her thoughts, read the twitch of an eyebrow or the slight twist of her lips into a frown. He was attempting to read her expression now, to glean something from her eyes, darkened by the dim shop, but all he found was an ache somewhere deep his chest. She was a stranger again. 

They were stiff. Offering pleasant conversations as expected, but nothing more. They traded questions, and answers, and yet it felt as though they were saying nothing at all– as though they were miming. Conrad was unsure how long they had been standing there, but he suddenly felt the tightness in his shoulders, the soreness of his fingers gripping the books. 

“I’m glad to hear.” He said with a curt nod. Her mother lived fondly in his memory. “I plan to stay for as long as it takes to secure a wife for Arthur. I hope to expedite the process, and see it through by the end of August…” He hesitated, dipping his head. Then, stepping closer, Conrad lowered his voice. “Ana I–” a muscle jumped along his jaw, and he tried again. “I don’t expect you to pretend like nothing happened. Like we– I know that’s what people do around here, but I don’t want that. In fact we needn’t even speak if that is what you choose. Alright?” 

It was torture, speaking to someone who once knew her more intimately than anyone in the world, but was now a stranger again. She hated not knowing where she stood, hated the pretense of polite conversation when true feeling hovered just underneath the surface. It was suddenly exhausting, this farce. Hearing about his continued endeavor for a wife for his brother, and was suddenly grateful when he spoke of something else. Even as her heart twisted painfully, she could not help but be grateful that he was being so honest.

“Nathaniel-” she found herself momentarily lost for words. “I fear I do not know how to treat you as if I do not know you,” she looked into his eyes, certain that a fair amount of hesitation lie within her own. “But neither do I want to ignore you- both because my mother would be appalled, and because I would feel like a coward.” She swallowed hard. “If you would prefer not to speak with me, I will not press it. But I-” she faltered. “My head is so full. This was- this is- a shock to me. I do not know that I have a ready answer for you.”

[dianabartlett]

when: late July, very late night, 1800 where: just outside Bartlett House who: @ernestpembroke​

Oh, damn it all. Diana loosed a breath, looking away from the open window on the side of the house, the window in her bedroom she had shimmied out of earlier in the night. She certainly had not been thinking clearly when she left her home several hours ago. No matter how many times she had successfully snuck out of her house- though she felt silly sneaking anywhere as she was the lady of the house- she always forgot that the getting back in was the issue. She sighed, looking back up at the imposing exterior.

She could, perhaps, sneak around to the servants’ entrance, but then who knew what staff she may run into? Would that be worse than her current situation? Standing outside, deep into the night, her hair tucked into a hat, hoping the brim would throw enough shadows onto her face to disguise her, in slim trousers and a loose shirt? Surely not, as her reputation would be ruined should she be caught out here, but one always must consider that a member of the staff she did not know well may very well spread gossip if they caught her sneaking in through the back in the offending outfit.

She sank a bit further into the shadows, attempting to gather her thoughts and plan her next move.

[dianabartlett]

alexandremortier​:

.

“Lucky him and lucky me this time. I always seem to meet such lovely and interesting ladies when I accompany my brother about town.” Margot said brightly, and this time it was Alexandre who fought the urge to roll his eyes because he was perfectly capable of reading between the lines and hearing the way she praised the other in the same breath she used to call Alexandre a womanizer. Well, Margot’s giggling over getting attention was better than the way she treated Miss St. John, even if they had arranged another meeting by the end.

“I think having someone else be Margot’s audience solves a problem I didn’t know I had. Thank you.” Alexandre said politely, shooting a smile even as he felt Margot kick him gently.

“He’ll find some other way of getting into trouble after he has his ices,” Margot said, getting in the obligatory quip before dismissing Alex completely. “My birthday is at the end of July and I think I deserve something nice for turning eighteen, but no one is listening to me. It’s like they don’t have any appreciation for the fact the youngest of us is all grown up.”

Diana let out a laugh at the young woman’s words. “Somehow I am not surprised. The ladies must flock to him, though I daresay they stay to hear you tease him,” she said conspiratorially. These two were a delight, and she hoped that this meeting would not be their last.

His words brought a faux gasp from her lips. “Well, Miss Margot, I am happy to be your audience. Although-” she now dropped her voice into a stage whisper, “Surely he does not mean for me to be an audience for long, with no introduction of either of you. I suppose I must show off my manners first.” She dropped a wink in Margot’s direction and continued. “I am Lady Diana Bartlett. It is, truly, a pleasure to make both your acquaintances.”

“Oh? He does seem the sort to cause trouble, though I should hope he will not get the three of us expelled from Fortum & Mason, since Gunther’s is closed.” Once more, she let a falsely haughty gasp escape from her. “Why, of course a young lady should be spoiled when she comes of age. And the youngest, as well! I daresay you deserve something very fine indeed. Tell me, whatever did you have in mind?” The words, in another conversation, could have sounded like sarcasm, but sincerity shone through every syllable, and she was quite curious to know what Margot could want for her birthday.

[dianabartlett]

baronwillliam​:

.

What a funny feeling, like he was on a precipice where the two sides divided into the choice to stay silent, or the choice of telling someone about his engagement simply because it was a fact that brought him joy. She would be the first person he told for those reasons, as Effingham had felt like a necessity and his mother knew because of his request for the ring but Lady Bartlett was… she was someone he could share the new with and be happy with, wasn’t she?

“I’m engaged.” No teasing, no build up of what sort of news he had or what it meant him, just the words escaping him like a revelation, and how easy it was to keep smiling after he said them. “To Miss Catherine Lockhart, I spoke with her father as soon as we returned to London.” None of those details, except perhaps Catherine’s name, were necessary, but she was the one subject upon which he would speak willingly at length.

“But I’m not here to take up your time with my personal matters. I recall promising to tell you of Christmas markets,” William offered instead, unsure just how tender of a spot marriage might be to her. Some women loved to hear everything they could about an engagement, but for others it was a conversation that it was best to avoid and William had no idea how to tell the difference between the two sorts of ladies.

Diana could not help but let out a near-shriek of excitement, before quickly schooling her voice and her features into something more ladylike. “Oh, Lord Hastings, that is wonderful,” she gushed. She made a motion as if to grab hold of his hand, to ground herself into proving how deeply thrilled she was for him. He had always given the air of holding his cards close to his chest, of never allowing too much emotion out, and she felt as though this was a pivotal moment. However, her senses returned to her, and realized where they were, and did not touch him.

“Well, I must meet this Miss Lockhart, you both must come ‘round for dinner! I insist.” Her grin nearly split her face in two, it was so wide, and watching William’s inability to stop smiling only spurred her on. She could not contain herself, and let out a small dance of joy for the man she had come to think of as a friend.

“Take up my time with your personal matters!” she exclaimed. “I am happy you are so happy, Lord Hastings. I would love to listen to as much as you would like to tell me,” she told him honestly. The look of happiness on her face, the words he had said, had driven the thought of Christmas markets from her head, but she was quite fascinated by the idea. “Or, if it makes you more comfortable,” she said, a light tease in her tone, “we can discuss Christmas markets. I am ever so curious.”

[dianabartlett]

conradmowbray​:

•

He had tried desperately to forget her. With the completion of his business in Suffolk, he was called home, and in his cowardice, in his undying dedication to a history he found to be much larger than himself, he had left Diana behind. He knew it was cruel, but Conrad was no one if not a man who was glaringly aware of his own limitations. At least that is what he told himself whenever he had a drop too much to drink, and memories of her floated to the surface. 

He had promised something without ever having to say it. The promise that came in whispered affections, his hands upon the achingly delicate skin of thighs, and breaths intertwined. He was chasing the sunrise when he left, unable, or unwilling, to say goodbye. Conrad was not the sort of man to look back and dissect his every decision, ponder the fractured path they each might led to. But Diana had a way of teasing out aspects unknown to him. What if he’d stayed? What if he’d dared to bring her with him?

But that was years ago now, a lifetime, really. And, knowingly or not, he’d made a decision when he left. He chose his family name. His role rather than his personhood. 

The sound of her voice was odd in his ears, as though traveling through space and time to find him here, in London. He found his mouth suddenly dry, and his response lacking. 

“She’s well. Brought along her, uh, conversational dog, but no matter.” He rushed on, “The rest of the family is… busy. And London is much the same as it has always been. Loud. Smelly. Hot.” He wet his lips, braced himself for the question. 

“And you? How is your mother? I do hope the seasons have treated you well.” But not too well. 

Her shock was beginning to subside, giving way to a curious combination of grief and fury. She had not seen hide or hair of Conrad in nearly four years, though she always listened for gossip that his brother had found a match. He had simply vanished, gone like smoke twisting in the wind until one was never sure it had been there at all. 

But he had been there. He had been much more than smoke, more like fire, a fire racing through her veins, igniting desire somewhere deep within her. She had let him promise her in actions, in unspoken words, in gasps of each others’ names late at night as fire burned low in the grate, but she was aware it had never been said aloud. At the time, she thought it hadn’t been necessary. She thought they’d known what they had, and what was coming. She had been wrong. She no longer let herself linger too long in these thoughts, had long since banished any hope that he would return to her.

“Well, I am sure her dog keeps her company when you are out,” Diana replied, trying to keep her response measured. “I imagine they must be, if you are here without them. I hope they are well.” His thoughts on London almost brought a smile to her lips, perhaps they would have, had she been having this conversation with anyone else. “Yes, it is most especially hot lately.”

His question was not unexpected, but it did still feel like a sharp piece of glass dragging down her heart. She suddenly had difficulty swallowing. “She is very well. She enjoys Suffolk. I have been well, thank you. The seasons feel much the same every year.” Somehow, she did not know how, she managed a shrug.

“Are you planning on staying long?” The words escaped her before she could think better of them. Did she need to worry about seeing him every time she left her home? Oh, lord, must she sequester herself in her house?

[dianabartlett]

mmthorne​:

margaretmulgrave​:

missvane​:

♠️♠️♠️  QUEEN OF SPADES TABLE

“Good evening, ladies,” says Mr. Rosings, charitably volunteering himself as a table-host this evening. He nods to each in turn as he shuffles the cards. “We shall be playing a game of half-luck, half-wit. It is called Vingt-et-Un. The goal here is to collect exactly that – vinget et un – in card points. No less, and certainly no more!”

He begins to deal, placing two cards facedown before each lady. A smile. “Aces low, to start.”

“Ah ah ah!” Mr. Rosings reaches out, stopping any cards from being flipped. “Before we begin, you must declare your wager. As part of the Queen of Spades’ court, your wager must be in the form of a favor: one you will grant to the winner of this game.” He turns, nodding to a woman upon his left. “Would you be so kind?”

—

Welcome to Ladies Game Evening! We’ll be playing Vingt-et-Un, which is Regency ‘21′. Respond to this thread in character, taking a seat and declaring your wager. Once you have posted, please roll in the Discord channel to see which cards you’ve drawn! You will roll 2d13, where 1 is Ace, 2-10 are numbers, and 11-13 are face cards.

The point system is as follows: 1-10 correspond to the number of points they give 11-13 each give 10 points

We’ll start another round once everyone has posted! Short posts encouraged. Dialogue-only posts are welcomed.

@margaretmulgrave @mmthorne @ladyaurelia @sarah-st-john @dianabartlett @missvane

The cards flicker back to rest, flat, upon the table again. Mr. Rosings seemed amused – perhaps even impressed – by the wagers here.

“Ladies, should you wish to hit, and add another card, tap the table twice, like so.” He did it, then, fore and middle finger gently thrumming against the table top. “Should you wish to stay, simply place your full palm upon the table.”

—

Next round! Either hit, and increase your bet by declaring how many more cards you would like, or stay, and watch the reactions of your fellow card players. Keep in mind: you may go up to twenty-one, but not over.

If you should like more cards, declare it in your post and then roll xd10 in the thread! Cheers!

-

The cards were all laid out on the table just so; Sarah snuck another look at her two, then across at the ones before the other ladies, as if it would help her see through them, then once more at her own. 

Hesitantly, she reached out and tapped. Once, twice. 

“One more, if you please, sir,” she said, eyes already flickering back to her fellow players. 

Sure of the number, Ophelia need not look at her cards, and glanced around the circle instead. Sarah had bet, and she watched her reaction for some inclination of what the outcome had produced. Was that a flicker of excitement? Or perhaps it was disappointment. 

Ophelia wiggled her nose. 

“I’ll raise one, Mister Rosings. ” 

༻✦༺༻✧༺༻✦༺

Two high pulls, and two other ladies already at twenty. The odds were not in her favor, nor were honey cakes so dear to lose. “I’ll stay Mister Rosing.” Margaret exposed her palm to the table.

Emmeline was more than comfortable with her cards, she eyed the other ladies carefully before nodding “I will also stay”

Diana knew if she pulled another card, the odds were not in her favor, surely she would go over twenty-one. “I, too, will stay, Mister Rosing.” She placed her palm against the tabletop.

[dianabartlett]

emptycharms​:

.

“It’s lovely to make your acquaintance, Lady Bartlett, even more so with this spring involved,” she said emphatically, quick to tie up her skirt well above her knees and wade into the water. There was nowhere private enough to change, and though she supposed she could ask the two women to turn around while she and Rebecca disrobed, she was far too hot and miserable to entertain the idea. If her skirt got wet so be it. It was hot enough that she could lay down in the grass and let it dry in less than an hour if she needed to. 

The water was as cool as a balm on her legs, and she sighed in relief as she moved to the deeper side, hoisting herself up onto the edge and sitting so that her legs were fully submerged. “Miss June Croft,” she offered, belatedly, smiling again at Diana as she did, laying one hand on her chest as she did. “And Miss Rebecca Masters,” she added, nodding towards Rebecca, “who is similarly my lady’s maid and confidante alike.” She tipped her head back towards the sun, finding it far more enjoyable now that she was swirling her bare legs in the cool water of the spring. June could hear her mother’s voice in her mind, warning her against sunlight and its damaging power to freckle and cause wrinkles, but in this moment, she didn’t care. “What a lovely discovery,” she murmured, sighing happily and turning her gaze back towards Diana as she did. “Something to cool ourselves off in, and a new friend besides. Have you been in London long?” 

Diana laughed, nodding her agreement. “I daresay that the spring is perhaps my favorite acquaintance of the day, but if it were not quite so hot, you would trounce it easily.” She was impressed by the other woman’s willingness to potentially ruin her dress- though she supposed if Miss Croft so desired, she could simply lay in the sun for a bit and it would dry easily. But even still, to wade in without a thought- Diana quite admired her.

“Lovely to meet you both, truly,” Diana said with genuine warmth. She, too, laid her head back, forgoing the horror of the threat of freckles, her mother’s warnings a low hum in her head. “Hm? Oh, yes, I returned to London not long after the beginning of the season, though Miss Anne resides year-round. I have come for several years now. And yourself?” she questioned. Surely, she would have noticed such a lovely young woman before, as she had quite a unique look.

[dianabartlett]

margaretmulgrave​:

missvane​:

♠️♠️♠️  QUEEN OF SPADES TABLE

“Good evening, ladies,” says Mr. Rosings, charitably volunteering himself as a table-host this evening. He nods to each in turn as he shuffles the cards. “We shall be playing a game of half-luck, half-wit. It is called Vingt-et-Un. The goal here is to collect exactly that – vinget et un – in card points. No less, and certainly no more!”

He begins to deal, placing two cards facedown before each lady. A smile. “Aces low, to start.”

“Ah ah ah!” Mr. Rosings reaches out, stopping any cards from being flipped. “Before we begin, you must declare your wager. As part of the Queen of Spades’ court, your wager must be in the form of a favor: one you will grant to the winner of this game.” He turns, nodding to a woman upon his left. “Would you be so kind?”

—

Welcome to Ladies Game Evening! We’ll be playing Vingt-et-Un, which is Regency ‘21′. Respond to this thread in character, taking a seat and declaring your wager. Once you have posted, please roll in the Discord channel to see which cards you’ve drawn! You will roll 2d13, where 1 is Ace, 2-10 are numbers, and 11-13 are face cards.

The point system is as follows: 1-10 correspond to the number of points they give 11-13 each give 10 points

We’ll start another round once everyone has posted! Short posts encouraged. Dialogue-only posts are welcomed.

@margaretmulgrave @mmthorne @ladyaurelia @sarah-st-john @dianabartlett @missvane

-

Sarah had not given much thought nor paid much attention to which table she was at, only that this of all the tables appeared more full of friends than foes, and not a royal or, or angry leader of London fashion in sight. 

It was not until she was seated, and pinned with the anticipatory look of their table’s host that she started. “Oh! A, a favour.”

She ducked her head down, consulting the unseen tips of her shoes before venturing a, “A set of lotions and balms for one’s face, in a scent of the winner’s choice.” Then, hurriedly, “Oh! Courtesy of, of Wyatt’s Apothecary, of course. For whom I am a, an adviser!” 

Grateful to be done with her part, she turned eagerly to the lady on her left. 

-

“Hmm, now let’s see, what could I offer to match that?” Aurelia ponders aloud, biting her lip as though in deep thought, “I suppose I shall offer up my embroidery and needlepoint skills– I will create a set of custom pillowcases for the victor!” 

Emmeline knew what would be offered long before she had arrived today. This table was for business. She would sit at another for fun.

“A reading! First with Tarot cards - either a relationship spread or a Celtic cross. It will of course be followed up by a written account of the vision the cards inspire!”

She glanced across at sarah, offering her a slight smile “I do hope I win. I have become quite reliant on Wyatt’s apothecary!! I could certainly do with some more.”

— 

Ophelia’s watched as favors were, metaphorically, piled onto the table as spoils. It seemed each of the women had a most unique skill to offer up, and she was left thinking of what she could provide. 

She doubted anyone wanted a lesson on the history of democracy, or a rapid course of study in German. She chewed at the inside of her lip as Mister Rosing’s eyes turned to her, impossibly thick brows hiking up in expectation. 

“I will offer… access to my library!” She smiled, satisfied, “It is quite extensive and you can borrow as many books as you like. With recommendations to boot.”

༻✦༺༻✧༺༻✦༺ Margaret picked at her nails, eyes roaming everywhere around the game hall until it was left to her to offer something. Needlework already extended as a spoil she sighed, wracking her brain for something worth any value. “Two freshly baked honey cakes. And the recipe.”

Diana’s eyes grew wider and wider as the favors were offered up, but after Ophelia’s promise of use of her library, she realized she was not quite sure what she had to present. Her brows knit together as she thought.

“I will offer a painting from my personal collection. There are some lovely pieces to choose from.”

[acecroft]

The King’s Daughter (2022) dir. Sean McNamara

[dianabartlett]

baronwillliam​:

It was a perfectly innocent question as well as a reasonable one - Margate was an event they both attended that offered many distractions, it was the most obvious avenue of conversation barring perhaps a mention of his dog. It should have been meaningless small talk, but instead William found himself smiling and he ducked his head rather than trying to smooth out his expression.

“My time in Margate was… exemplary.” He allowed, little bubbles of joy escaping into his tone. Did he explain to Lady Bartlett what had transpired, or was it more polite to simply continue on with the conversation? “And I hope that you enjoyed it as well.”

He doubted that her time was as joyous as his, but at least William had managed to bite back his smile, gaze gone back to Lady Bartlett’s. “I think that Orion is happy to have me back, which counts for something. Do you have any pets yourself?” That wasn’t at all related to the conversation that he’d promised her, but William didn’t mind so much. He happened to enjoy animals, no matter if they were the furry dog sort or a feathered bird, or even a horse kept out in a stable, so that was an avenue of conversation he was happy to explore.

His response to what she had thought an innocent question before she bombarded him with questions of his travels caught her entirely off guard, but the joy that escaped him was immediately intriguing. It was clear something had occurred in Margate, and she had never been the type to let alone when there was this much joy in someone. In fact, she was not sure she had every seen him smile so widely, if she had seen a true smile from him at all before.

“Exemplary! Well, if you are so inclined, do tell, Lord Hastings, I am on the very edge of my seat,” she encouraged, no malice or even light-hearted teasing in her tone. She was curious about what or who had brought such happiness to the gentleman, and should it be a who, she may just send them flowers, for the light that filled his face was that of a sun, though he was clearly trying to contain it. “I did quite enjoy it, though I suspect your trip was far more eventful than mine.”

“He certainly seems happy to have you back,” she agreed, a wide smile dominating her face as she looked down at Orion. “Is he friendly? Would he mind very much if I pet him?” She glanced to Lord Hastings’ face for permission. “No, not in London, although I do have a treasured horse in Suffolk. He is quite old, however, a grumpy old man at that, so I do not bring him to the city,” she laughed. “He prefers the country, so I do not force him to endure anything else.”

[dianabartlett]

conradmowbray​:

Nathaniel.

It was a name he hadn’t heard in years. A voice that haunted his dreams, only to wake to a silent room with intolerable feelings of regret, and guilt. But she wasn’t an apparition, or memory. She was there, standing before him, dwarfed by the towering bookshelves. Had he forgotten the bow-shape of her mouth? The particular shade of blue that made her eyes so mesmerizing? Had the sun always peppered her nose and the line of cheeks with faint freckles? Most of their time together lived within him as a feeling, rather than images. She was a tightness in his chest, an unparalleled feeling of fear and adoration, she was a heat in his belly, a striking clarity in his head. But now she was here, and he was–

“I’ve just arrived. About a week ago now.” He tore his gaze away from her, glancing down at the books in his arm. “With my Great Aunt Esther, if you can believe it. He had looked away, and now, incredibly, he was afraid to look at her again. For if she were here, in London, during the season… Conrad cleared his throat, and silence followed.

He would be lying if he claimed the summers had not come and gone without thoughts of her nuptials. And every year he expected to hear of Lady Bartlett’s advantageous pairing, her happy ending. When such news did not come, he felt an odd mixture of relief and frustration. If she were wed he could finally and truly forget her, a memory of something that had been and could never be. But he did not want to watch it happen, watch the gentlemen of the ton court her. 

“And you… You’ve been here for the entirety of the season?” 

About a week ago now. A week she had been trawling the streets, unknowingly sharing the city with the ghost that haunted her memories, hovering at the edges of her thoughts, waking and asleep. He was as much a part of her as she was, he had claimed so much of her those years ago. For many months after, she had only been a shade, so convinced was she that he had taken all of the most meaningful parts of herself when he had gone away without a word.

She understood it, later, once grief had turned manageable. They could not be- not while she was titled and he was merely sent as a stand in, sent to find a desirable wife for his brother, a bill she certainly fit but could never imagine fulfilling. But that had done nothing to dull the hope that he would return to her, someday, a childish whim. It had done nothing for the feeling of falling into a never-ending chasm, never quite able to catch her breath, afraid every time she opened her mouth that what would escape would simply be a barrage of tears and incoherent words that it wasn’t fair, it simply wasn’t fair, how could he leave her, where had he gone, where was he? 

Here. He was here, in front of her, now unable to meet her eyes, though she could not stop looking at him. She was sure that naked longing lay on her face, and yet she could not tear her eyes from raking over his face, as though she could never look at him long enough. Perhaps if she stored up enough memories of him once more, she could survive when he invariably found a match for his brother and was gone again.

“And how is your great aunt? And the rest of your family?” The words left her lips without her permission, polite speak that was appropriate. His question caught her next words in her throat, and she could only nod for a moment. “Yes. I have returned to London for several seasons now.” No need to tell him she had needed to escape her estate in Suffolk the season following his departure; had simply needed to be in a space where he had never touched her, where his presence did not linger and he was not always hiding around corners in her mind. 

Determined to stay calm, to not fall apart until she reached her home, or possibly Ophelia’s, she asked him as calmly as she could manage, “Are you enjoying the city?”