always hopeless, sometimes romantic

[georgixnx-blog]

nothing but the candle in the mirror — gilbert and georgiana

@glbvrt

Even in her loneliness, Georgiana felt as if her feelings were not her own. Ever since the broken off engagement, it was if a cloud of bitterness has started to grown in her chest, overwhelming everything else. She wasn’t angry with William, or with anyone on that matter. But Georgiana always had that seed of melancholy inside of her, born from the burden that came with her position in society. Now, however, it had finally found a propitious ambient in her heart. The candlelight shadows seemed to emulate her emotions, distorted and glooming in the walls. Georgiana could hear music and laughter just down the hallway, where her mother was certainly looking for her. She would never miss the chance to parade her daughters like fine jewelry along the bachelors of London. There was beauty to the shadows, nonetheless. Georgiana’s fingers ached for something to drawn on, to freeze that moment in time. The Godwin was so distraught by her wave of thoughts, that she barely noticed when someone sit beside her, only barely registering the shape of a man before raising her eyes. “Lord Seymour.” The surprise was evident in her voice. She had only been formally presented to the man once, during one of her father’s formal gatherings. The rumors about him, however, had been filling her ears for days. At least she wasn’t being the solely target of London’s entertainment.

[glbvrt-blog]

High society balls and dinners, Gilbert quickly realized, where a boring, drawn out affair. Nothing like the parties he had been known to frequent in Sorbonne, where music and food where often forgotten in favor of heated debates and drinking. Even his new clothes felt restricting, and Gilbert was forced to wonder about what his father must have thought about this life. The patriarch rarely talked to his son about high society. He rarely talked at all, and a child would not be interest in London’s intricate society anyhow. Escaping from an old lady who was intended in introducing him to all six of his daughters was the first glimpse of shiny hot joy he had during the evening. Not knowing the place, Gilbert found what looked like a dark hallway, with only some candles in contrast to the main rooms lavish chandeliers. There, the figure of a woman was resting. For a moment, Gilbert was intended on turning back and leaving the person alone, before that horrendous waltz started playing in the main room. He walked gently towards the woman, trying to look at her in the darkness and place a name to the face. Maybe one of the sisters to the Earl of Bessborough, or a Cavendish. “I apologize for my intrusion, my lady. I cannot bear the thought of dancing another waltz.” He explained, embarrassment overflowing his thoughts when she recognized him. Only then recognition strikes him, when thinking about the Misses Godwin. Two of them with a striking red hair, and the eldest. Georgiana, just like the King, he had thought at the time. 

[glbvrt-blog]

percytemple‌:

Percy did a double take.  Blithe in his excitement at the prospect of change, he’d addressed a familiar face without taking in the implications of its presence - for example, the fact that the last time he’d seen Gilbert Seymour, Percy had been a mere, struggling lieutenant…or, even more so, that these encounters had occurred in far-off France.  Naturally, Percy had heard some whispers that the old duke, Gilbert’s father, was dying, and he knew there to be a great deal of suspense regarding the identity of the next duke, given the old one’s decided lack of legitimate offspring.  More than that, however, had never reached Percy, heightening the surprise.

“Good Lord, Seymour, is that really you?” cried Percy, delighted.  He chuckled at himself.  “I don’t think I fully comprehended just whom I was addressing, till I heard your voice.  By Jove, it’s good to see you!  Finally left France behind, eh?” he inquired.

For his own part, Percy had left after the death of Angelique, but a part of him wondered if he might not still be there, even now, had she lived.  But, no, even that was a daydream.  Had Angelique lived, she would have done so upon his salary, which would have compelled them both to go wherever His Majesty’s Navy pleased.  Still, that was a pleasant daydream as well: Percy was confident his Angelique would have loved to see the world, just as Percy did.

“I quite imagined you to be lost to the Continent, forever.  Have the charms of the Sorbonne soured since last I was there?”

Grinning brightly as Gilbert mentioned the weather, Percy cast his glance upwards with great appreciation.  “I can’t imagine.  You know I love England but…I rather thought the sky completely dour upon returning from the West Indies.  Today, though, today one might almost imagine the clouds of England have reconciled with the sun.”  

Percy arched his brows, the comparison mirroring what he hoped soon the political situation of England might be - Whigs and Tories living in harmony as England achieved further greatness, serving her people rather than living off of them.  “I must say, your timing is rather good.  Knowing you, I daresay you’re pleased to have returned to England in time to find her throne unoccupied?”

Gilbert had heard little about his friend after his departure from France with a broken heart. He had inherited his grandfather’s title as Viscount Palmerston, that much Gilbert knew. And how ironic wasn’t the universe, reuniting two people who met when they had little less than a place to be buried, now as man of titles and lands. “It is I, though I can hardly believe so.” Sometimes Gilbert feared he would wake up in his bed in Paris’s, staring directly at Sorbonne. Sometimes he prayed to anyone who might heard him for him to do so. “It seems as if Paris was not the place intended for me after all.” A few years back, a place where Gilbert was wanted, needed even, was his highest aspiration in life. He traveled through all of Europe in hopes to find this mystical land, probably hidden just left of Avalon. All of his search lead right him back to Paris, and for the first time since the warm summers of his childhood in school, Gilbert figured he had found his place. That is, of course, until he was swept away to England. “Oh, I don’t think dear old Sorbonne could sour. I can almost see my colleagues sitting around the library and discussing Shakespeare with passion enough to get us all expelled of the room once again.” The College of Sorbonne was the closest thing to a home ever known by Gilbert. The old headmaster had even insinuated that he might have occupied a professor there one day. Of course, this fickle dreams were long one, in a turn of events that Shakespeare ought to have written about somewhere. Looking up at the sky, the weight of his reality settled in once again. “I haven’t been in England since I was ten. It is quite hard to start thinking of sunless cold London as a home.” It was a perfect parallel to his own state, where his quiet childhood had been spent with only the darkness as a companion. “But then again, I suppose this could be my next great adventure. And if there are more days like this ahead, who knows, I may fall in love with England.” “You know me too well, Percy.” A laugh fell through his lips, as the image on England’s throne, currently empty, was conjured in his mind. That was, indeed, something he had heard and talk about in his artistic and political circles back at Sorbonne. Only about a different King. “It seems as if the winds that brought me also had change in them. And who am I to disagree with destiny’s knowing hands?”

[percytemple]

It would be wrong to imply that Percy was in any way pleased that anything but good had befallen the king.  He did not wish ill upon a single person and certainly he was not so bad a subject as to wish for anything but good for him.  He had hoped, many times, for a change of heart, but not for this.  It was fully accurate, however, to suggest that he saw this new situation as an opportunity.  

It was well known that the King gave his support to the Tory party; it was equally well known that the Prince of Wales gave his to the Whigs.  If the King was unable to rule, the obvious Regent was, naturally, the Prince which was, in turn, a promising situation for the Whigs.  Now, Percy felt sure, was their opportunity to do good for this nation.  Perhaps, by the time the King was well again and enough change had been wrought, the King, himself, would be brought round to see how much better England was in the hands of the opposite party: everyone would see.

Percy could hardly contain his excitement at the prospect.  So it was that in cheerful good spirits, he made his way through the park.  The sun had hardly ever felt brighter; the flowers rarely seemed so vibrant or sweet-smelling.  Percy took this as a sign of favor from the Almighty, a sign that all soon would be well and the path was paved.

“Good morning,” he greeted the first person he saw.  “A splendid glorious day, is it not?  I can hardly believe how well all the world looks, today!”

[glbvrt-blog]

If Gilbert was being entirely honest with himself, he was not feeling even a little sad about the King’s illness. Not that he would share this with anyone, or that the suffering of a man brought him any kind of joy. But the King was, to him, a symbol of everything wrong with the country he just now started calling home. Just like King Louis back in France, a man who didn’t seem to care for his subjects. And sometimes, you had to rip the evil on its roots.

Even if Gilbert did not know much about the Prince of Wales, it seemed like change could resolve many of England’s problems. The Prince was, for one, a Whig, which he understood to be the lesser of evils when it came to political parties. And a new monarch, even if just a Regent, would lighten up the people’s spirits, and maybe even make them start clamoring for change.

And this idea made Gilbert hopeful. He was strolling along the park with a visible happy demeanor, a man with no worried in the entire world. Oh, if only that were true. “Lord Percy, what a wonderful surprise!” The sight of his friend was a welcome one, especially amongst the sea of people he knew nothing about. “It does seem as if the sun decided to finally come out of its far too dark manor. How can the people of London not ache for more days like this?” So far, no one seemed all to bothered by England’s sorrowful weather. He truly missed his time in Italy and the cloudless days of sun.

[boothedits]

Oh, not the visioned poet in his dreams.

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