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@fortuneandfeasibility
I wonder how the season will treat MARCEL FOURNIER. It’s true that he is ADVENTUROUS, but I’ve also heard that they can be IMPATIENT. Do you think they’ll find their match? I doubt it if what I heard is true. I heard that ████████. Of course, that’s just speculation.
an exaggerated shrug of both shoulders. "expert dawdler? yet another title to add to my already... incredibly long list." and it was perhaps the most accurate of them all. "nothing of substance?" he repeated, incredulous. "that lovely woman has essentially told you you will become famous and find romantic success and you are... asking for more?" feigned disappointment creeped across features, dark brows drawn together and he shook his head slowly. "though, yes. you should be disappointed she did not also promise great wealth. it is practically unbelievable she didn't. i hope you didn't pay her!"
"You'll have to add 'unreasonable optimist' to that ever growing list of yours." He groused, no real heat behind the complaint. "If you'd listened closely you'd have noticed that she said nothing of success in the romance; half of London is within a stones throw right now. And I've no craft to speak of-" He would not grace the writing with the distinction of craft "-which makes the thought of becoming famous for one particularly alarming." A hand pressed against his chest, as though he'd actually managed to take a fright from the thought. "I do have to be at least a bit cautious, Albert! What if she is better at curses than fortune telling?" Marcel paused, eyeing his old friend with a mixture of speculation and mischief. "...As a matter of fact, I may well have to pay her again." His fingers were already reaching out to curl around the other man's wrist.. "Aren't you interested in knowing what your future entails?"
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sophie remained quiet at the question of visiting her brother. ever since he was in jail, the woman didn't think about going there. first of all, because jails were filthy and she wouldn't want to feel the smell of it on her clothes. there was also this anger boiling within her whenever she thought about the situation he put his siblings through. sophie had a lovely life before the scandal: great friends, a promising future and a few interesting prospects. alas, the moment the scandal came to light, her whole world collapsed and she lost her friends. it seemed that people put the whole carlisle family in the same back. sophie was hurt, afraid of never finding a man who would love her for who she was. taking a deep breath, the woman shook her head. "no, i do not intend to go there." she turned her head and smiled briefly at her friend before adding: "it would be too painful also. and i am not a cruel woman. i have ethics, unlike him." she looked down and chuckled at his words: "i thank you for the idea though." she looked back at her friend and shrugged: "some have a clearer destiny, some have unexpected events. and then, you have those who let themselves carry by life." she chuckled and added. "i would rather not keep going on the topic, i would fear that we both end with a headache, don't you think?"
Unlike him. It is barely a jab at all but it is a jab and he’d even managed to get a laugh for his efforts. Marcel remembers enough to his good manners not to crow with delight at that small victory. “I think I have no choice but to agree.” He acquiesced easily. There was no need to sidestep one loaded cannon only to step right into the barrel of another. “I have my reputation to think of after all. I’m not certain I could ever recover socially, if the ladies come to think of me as an inducer of headaches. My prospects would be ruined.” Shaking his head, he turned to peer over the increasing- though thankfully not nearly so much as some of the other exhibits- crowd, confirming that they were all but upon the flower arrangements. “Shall I tell you the solution I’ve come up with to our problem instead?” He questioned, leaving her in suspense for only the span of a few seconds before continuing. “It’s quite obvious, really. You will pick the flowers for us and I shall pick the colors and, between the two of us, we will hopefully craft something that is both beautiful and doesn’t tell it’s poor recipient that we find them odious and never wish for them to speak to us again.”
"there i was thinking i would find you pestering the poor circular saw man about the..." a long pause, fingers wiggling in the air as he searched desperately for the right word. "mechanics of it all." albert produced a triumphant smile, giddy from far too much coffee and just as many sweet treats from the vendors. "and here you are, stumbling out of the fortune teller's tent. this is utterly baffling." he placed his hands on his hips, waiting only another breath before speaking again. "well! what did she have to say? anything interesting?" @fortuneandfeasibility
He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the familiar voice, sheepish as though he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. "It is just my luck that you are an expert dawdler. I've had a most informative demonstration of the saw and still found myself with time to spare." Marcel made a shooing motion with both hands,laughing at his own foolishness. "Nothing of substance. It seems that I am destined to become known for my craft and the great romance of my life is but a stones throw away. Should I be disappointed that she didn’t think to promise me a great fortune as well?"
sophie chuckled at his words as she simply walked by his side. "classes are always far better with company, indeed." she glanced at her new friend before looking down. it felt good to have a friend like marcel, at least she could be herself and not worried to be judged. as he spoke his words, the woman chuckled. "is that a way of treating your friend?" she teased back as she looked down at her dress. "truth is, i am not particularly liking this dress. alas, i didn't have the opportunity to buy a new one. not since my brother..." she stopped talking. the scandal was still fresh and sophie didn't want to add oil to the fire. "anyway..." she looked back at marcel. "i find it quite in general that a lot of things don't make sense. sometimes life itself doesn't make sense."
“That is exactly how I treat my friends. It’s the risk one assumes when making such an investment.” They were not in a ballroom, or even in entirely polite company and Marcel simply couldn’t justify the farce of looking the other way whilst an elephant trampled about the room. “Have you considered visiting your brother...perhaps with produce? It is a touch early for tomatoes, but you should be able to find some decent cabbages this time of year.” His lips pursed, a finger tapping against his jaw as though he were truly giving the plot serious thought. “I’m confident that if you face a guard sounding just that forlorn they would look the other way whilst you practiced your aim. If you could manage a tear or two, they might even come to offer their assistance…It is just a thought, of course.” He shrugged, flashing her an innocent grin that even he did not believe. “Do you think life is meant to make sense? Certainly the philosophers and their thousands of years of research don’t seem to be making much progress on the matter.”
sophie chuckled and nodded at his words. "well then, shall we go?" she asked, feeling the need of having a distraction. lately, her mind was only thinking about the gentleman who came to call on her but never gave her a sign of life since then. she tried not to be too affected to the matter, however, she couldn't help but wonder if this had to do with her name. "let's be poor studies together, then." she said, offering him a gentle smile on her face as she then added. "oh but believe me: i can't understand how one comes with such beautiful creativity where i am incapable of picking two colors matching together."
“Of course.” He lowered his arm and shifted into motion at last, the flowers were not going to get any closer after all. “Being the most troublesome student in the class is always far better with company.” Marcel chuckled at her words, casting a sidelong glance at her. “Odd, I hadn’t noticed that you were dressed in the garb of a clown or a stage extra. Does your ladies made keep you firmly in hand then? …Or should I be seeking out a pair of spectacles?” Despite the teasing, he wasn’t completely without sympathy, offering up as commiseration. “I find the meanings to be my Achilles heel. There seems to be an entire language that doesn’t make a bit of sense.”
"Marcel..." She whined, embarrassed by the jabs. They were kind, in their own way. She could tell he cared. Like, honestly cared about her wellbeing. That felt rare. Her own parents didn't worry about things like that, only asked her how many men had called on her, danced with her.
Marcel worried about quality over quantity.
"I won't marry a dog." she promised. "Or a man who will drink or gamble away all of his money instead of saving for our children's futures." She'd have to be desparate before she gave up ground on that. "But I suppose I don't mind if he's outgoing or quiet. so long as he doesn't try to force me to be as outgoing as he is. You know I'm too shy for gatherings every day." She liked taking days off to lie alone in her room or roam the gardens in solitude. "is that too much to ask?"
“Good.” Marcel found that he believed her, at least enough not to insist on getting her word on the matter like he might with a member of his own family. Still, it never hurt to have a little extra emphasis, just to be certain. “Know that I intend to hold you to that- regardless of how handsome, charming or good at spouting poetic nothings they may be.”
He hummed, the noise a sympathetic one. The constant stream of balls, soirees and dinner parties had been a tedium when he was five season in and he was well beyond that now. “Personally, I was under the impression that the ‘marital bliss’ everyone speaks of was being allowed to cut ones social calendar down by at least a half…But then, there are unreasonable men” He paused, frowning for just a breath before he nodded decisively. “If you find one of those outgoing gentleman here, you will have to make that your first question. That way you can expeditiously dismiss the ones that expect their wife to attend a function every night.”
sophie looked at marcel and smiled at him. his enthusiasm was heart warming and she truly appreciated it. "well, let's go to the flower arrangement stand. i would rather be in a place not too crowded. i don't do well with crowds." she admitted, her brown hues showing a slight hint of vulnerability. "perhaps we could even learn? i would certainly be happy to make flower arrangements in the future." she chuckled as she slowly walked down the path leader to the stand.
"Likewise. One always finds themself unable to move about freely and ends wondering why they were foolish enough to enter the throngs in the first place." He offered Sophie both a reassuring smile as well as his arm. "I wouldn't be opposed to further education on the subject. Though, I've been told I'm quite the poor study." He shook his head, laughing at his own expense. "I'll have the colors just so only to discover that I've committed some unforgivable floral faux pas."
did they like you? Enough to call? Well, no. not yet. He was the first to arrive, and polite visiting hours would be over soon. So, at least today, he was her only suitor. And he seemed right grossed out at the idea of being labeled as such. Creating demand by showing that other people are already interested. Yes, maybe. "Or reminding them that I'm even being sold at all." She offered, although sold felt strange. Wouldn't her parents be the ones providing a dowry?
The question of what her husband was like was a bit more convoluted. It was harder to fathom. Although she knew she needed a husband, she realized for a moment she hadn't really thought ad nauseum about what that would mean. A man. A real man, one she'd be married to until death do they part. "He's kind." She offered, as a start, building her husband's traits up in her mind. "He's got a fondness for riding. or at least will tolerate the fact that I'll be bringing Sweetie home with us." Her horse, who she'd had for ages. "And... he likes me. We'd... I don't know." Spend time together. It would be a nice change from her family now, her siblings who were out of the house more often than not and her parents who never so much as ate with their children. Was it too picky to want someone who liked her, not simply tolerated her? "We'd be a good match."
“Reminding them? You speak as though you are already on the shelf when you aren’t even five and twenty.” He scoffed, listening intently as Tilly sketched out her idea husband…Or rather didn’t sketch much at all. Perhaps it shouldn’t have some as a surprise that the answer was so vague, given that she had only just decided that she was in search of a husband. “So he must be kind, like you and get along with horses? I suppose if we can’t find a gentleman that meets those requirements we could find you a great many hounds.” Still, it seemed like he would need to prod, at least a little, if they were going to get anything of use.
“Bringing oneself to like a pretty young lady who is even reasonably agreeable is not exactly a hardship. An unpleasant suitor could manage just as easily as a desirable one.” He delivered this reminder with a pointed cautioning look. “What else of his temperament? Is he quiet natured or sociable? Intellectual or frivolous?” The last word made him pause eyebrows knitting together in concern. “…Are you willing to accept a husband that spends frivolously or gambles? Or one that spends a great deal of his time drinking or visiting the gaming hells?”
“ canned beef . . . ” nose scrunches in disgust , stomach roiling just at the sight . could the invention even be called brilliant . . . ? he was doubtful . “ why ever would they make such a thing ? don't they know that meat is best enjoyed fresh . ” [ @londonhigh-societystart ]
“…I think, perhaps, the problem is that you assume that it is meant to be enjoyed.” He commented, gesturing at the display to encourage his new found conversation partner to look again. “The meat is certainly in the can but how, pray tell, is one expected to get it out?”
"i am not sure where to proceed. everything looks so interesting!" sophie commented, quite eager to see if she could find familiar faces. ever since the sari ball, sophie grew less fearful, happy to step a foot into the ton. perhaps this confidence was due to a particular event? nonetheless, the carlisle woman was happy to attend this day. "what would you like to see first?"
@londonhigh-societystart
It wasn’t the first whiff of indecision he’d caught amongst the crowds that day, but it was the first that had been directed at him specifically. Marcel considered the question for a moment before throwing his hands up in a show of exasperation. “Everything!” Laughing, he turned to study the crowds and exhibits on offer seriously. “I think the flowers are the safest gamble. The crowds will be the thinnest with all the marvels but the arrangements will get no fresher than they are today.”
Jordan fisher as Orpheus in Hadestown on Broadway 🌹🎼
"precisely," he exclaimed, triumphant -- as if the prize had been anything other than the maintenance of the status quo they had long established for themselves. feigned shock returned, lasting several seconds under marcel's appraisal before morphing into what albert was starting to think had to be the hundredth pouting session of the conversation. dark eyes narrowed as he considered a rebuttal. "i cannot say i remember any such instances... perhaps you dreamt them, darling." he reached out, a condescending pat administered to marcel's nearest hand.
soft chuckle at the reference to marcel's siblings experience, though albert did not believe it half as much. the fourniers maintained a closeness he simply could not relate to -- if he hadn't seen it so often, he might have struggled to comprehend it at all. fundamentally though, albert would claim he did like ( and love, in his own way ) his siblings. finger tapped his chin in thought. "perhaps it is the combination? together it would be an excellent distraction tactic, i should think." half-smile blossomed and he turned, chin in his hand. "perhaps i am," conceded easily for once, humming thoughtfully and returning to messing with the other's sleeve for the sake of some contact. "you should insist on both. i am sure it could be managed... i'd venture with very little work on my behalf."
His chin lifted stubbornly, his own eyes narrowing. “Here I had thought to spare your ego. I had not realized that your memory was starting to lapse after so many seasons. A look of utmost sympathy was directed Albert’s way, as his free hand settled atop the other mans. ”Or is it that you simply dream of being left in the dust by me?“ Pulling both hands free of his companion, he raised them in a show of helplessness. ”Of course, if you are truly so confident in your own speed, you could always best me in a proper foot race…or attempt to at the very least.“ The challenge was delivered with all of the innocence that Marcel could muster, somewhat belied by the smirk on his face.
“It must be, one would have to be the Adonis to successfully drive the masses to such great distraction.” The easy agreement manages to startle him into a few seconds of silence, a low chuckle escaping. “It is only a paper, you recall?” He lamented the lack of alcohol at the ball- really, who held a ball without at least champagne? Then, at least, he could have thrown an arm over his companions shoulder or leaned into him under the guise of balance lost and in need of finding. Instead he had to settle for practicality, hands settling on Albert’s chest under the guide of straightening a cravat that truly didn’t need the effort. “Very little work, is it? Perhaps I am compromising too easily. I think you’re quite right, I should read you the papers and save any laying of hands for whomever is awake afterwards.”
"Thank you." Matilda smiled, letting her tone stay hushed as it had been during her whole explanation. She certainly didn't want Miss Chambers overhearing and telling Albert- or worse, her parents.
"Addie said they'd like me. When they got to talking with me." She explained. "I thought they'd come calling today, at least some of them. so far, you're the only one who's shown up." She tried not to sound too disappointed about it, even if she was. "at the very least, people will see me dancing. word will get around." In the ton, it always did.
Louder, now at normal volume, she spoke her conviction. "My husband is out there. I just have to look, seeing as he isn't looking hard enough to have found me. And I shall find him. I want to dance with more than my brother."
Marcel leaned forward in his seat, elbows propped on his knees and chin propped on fist as he eyed her curiously. “And did they? Like you when they spoke to you?” The words had hardly left his mouth before he realized how harsh they’d sounded, quickly adding. “That is to say, did they like you enough to call? It is still early in the season; only fools, fortune hunters and the truly love struck are beating down ladies doors after the first ball.” He assured, waving a hand as if dismissing the very idea of any of those options. “Creating demand by showing that other people are already interested? It works for shop owners, why shouldn’t it work on the marriage mart as well?”
His brows raised at the declaration, his tone teasing as he questioned. “What is this husband of yours like? Describe him to me and I shall keep a look out for him as well.” Still, it was hard not to want Matilda to succeed now that she had set out to have a successful season and he really didn’t give the offer any thought at all before he was making it. “If you are really so opposed to dancing with your brother then I suppose I shall have to offer to be the first on your dance card at the next ball...If your would be be suitors don’t claim the spot first. If I must have some level of notoriety then one of us should get some use out of it.”
Her face flushed, a bit nervous with the line of questioning. The truth was, there was more to it than that. But she didn't want to say, didn't want anyone else knowing what was hanging over her head. Wasn't this what was expected of young girls? To fall in love? To be wed and off the mart?
"Can you keep it?" she asked, nervous. "If I told you?" He would, and she knew it. "I've always wanted to find my love. I'm just nervous. and that makes boys not want to talk to me." That, plus the fact that she really hadn't been ready her first year or two. She'd debuted young, she was only really ready the last three years. but someone who had been out for a few seasons without trying to garner notice was someone who anyone in search of a wife overlooked. So now here she was, uncertain how to get off the wall but with nobody adding their names to her card to peel her from it.
"Addie switched cards with me. All those boys I danced with? They signed up for her." And that was how she'd gotten off the wall. hopefully at the next ball, people would add their names to her card on purpose. seeing her dance like that.
Marcel could only nod in understanding; Matilda had been out far too long for polite platitudes on why boys might not approach her and he himself spent enough time avoiding nervous debutantes who might chatter incessantly about nothing (or worse, say nothing at all) for an entire set that he risked being accused of hypocrisy. Well then. He’d suspected that something was afoot at the Sari’s ball, hadn’t he? It was one mystery solved for the season and would make a hilarious anecdote to tell Albert…In a few years. His eyes darted to Ms. Chambers, the more concerning candidate for secret spilling amongst the three of them.
“Clever.” He hummed his approval. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an option that he could use with his own siblings but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t appreciate the ingenuity of it. “You get to dance and Adelaide gets to stop dancing long enough to determine that she may actually like gentleman.” Sadly, the flaws of the plan were just as readily apparent. “I doubt it will work for more than a ball or two before the gentleman catch on. Do the two of you intend to keep your dance partners in a state of confusion for the rest of the season or have you concocted some grand scheme for getting over your nervousness?”
a sideways glance afforded to older brother, before eyes rolled. "at least in a field i might have some peace and quiet. i could find one all to myself and spend the whole day there uninterrupted," spoken as if he hadn't done that very thing countless times. once or twice, perhaps, marcel had had to rescue him from a tree or some other sticky countryside situation. laurent conceded marcel's music point with a raised brow and an upwards jut of his chin. "perhaps if i were inclined to performance, even hidden in a stage box, i could have pursued that line." as it stood, the very thought had him breaking an ever so slight sweat. a solemn nod. "when we next see the bloxam family, i will put on my best performance, i promise."
he stretched, legs now dangling over the arm of his chair. "oh, i see. the mistake is mine, then. but i'm rather enjoying moldering in here, so i should warn you it is a daunting task indeed you have ahead of you." unable to help the smile from blossoming at his brother's approval and it brightening further at the mention of another book, laurent scrunched his nose. "mmh... well. it is a very good book. let us start with the breakfast room, then we shall see. if such a thing is possible, that is me making the opposite of a promise about the club."
“I would be truly impressed if you managed to find a field in London that is peaceful and quiet and not already being occupied by men trying to settle debts of dishonor. Regardless, my day would be interrupted when someone finally realized that you were missing and you would find yourself in this very same situation.” Marcel had long lost track of just how many times that had happened, nannies or their parents seeking him out when they once again lost the families second son to the lure of peace and quiet. “It’s never too late, you know. I’m sure with oh…half a dozen or so years of work we could get you on a stage.”
Marcel considered the warning and then considered his brother, sprawled over his chair like an overgrown house cat. and scoffed. “Daunting? I’ve had strolls through the park more formidable.” Judging by the grin that spread across his face, it was obvious that he’d heard his brother’s refusal, even seemed energized by it given how quickly he slid from his seat. “It’s just as you said, isn’t it? We’ll see. The night is still young, after all.” He strode towards the door, waiting until he was well out of arms reach to wave the book he’d pilfered in Laurent’s direction. “Are you coming or not?
