moralitas / morality

lord christopher alderidge for @seasonsfm

[balonstrong]

𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝓇 @mcralitas the most honorable, the marquess of elingwood the queen's garden party, garden games section, london

It was a thing entirely necessary that they were seen together, glittering and gleaming, as usual. Athénaïs was well aware of how it would look if they did not. So she smiled. Not too broad -- her smiles in public always carried an edge, a sharpness, the familiar imperious quality which ever had marked her out from the rest. It was a quality she had learned at Versailles, all these years later, still reflecting back the fabled Hall of Mirrors for the world to see. It was a quality which always had served her well. Generally, of course, its cruel edge was reserved for the outside world. Generally, on her husband's arm, she felt she was being presented with her nearest ally. Yet now, even with her arm tucked into the familiar warmth of his, she felt strangely alone as her silk-slippered feet touched the verdure of the Hampton Court Palace green. Alone, and surrounded by courtly vipers.

She felt she was being gawked at. It was untrue, she knew, a mere fancy conjured by her own horror of her husband's secret getting out, but this rational certainty did nothing to chase away the awful gut feeling. Besides, there was someone watching, indeed. Lady Whistledown meant to discover and expose everyone's secrets, if she could.

The Marchioness' jaw set. Clutching her husband's arm, she half-guided him towards the games area. "Come. I've rather a mind for a little exercise." She felt like shooting or hitting something. "What do you think, my lord? Pall mall, first, or a spot of archery?"

[mcralitas]

Like  a  familiar  dance  he  easily  fell  back  into  step  to  he  remained  poised,  head  held  high  and  back  straightened  as  he  took  a  turn  about  the  gardens,  Athénaïs  on  his  arm.  What  had  once  been  a  grounding  weight  felt  like  it  was  pulling  him  lower  and  lower,  six  feet  under,  rendering  him  as  small  as  he  felt.  Yet  no  matter  his  feelings  about  the  situation,  no  matter  his  self-pity  at  falling  out  of  his  family's  favour,  and  deservedly  so,  for  what  was  gravely  more  important  was  to  save  face,  appear  as  if  they  remained  unchanged  to  one  another.  As  if  the  ward-sized  secret  taking  dinner  with  the  family  and  occupying  her  own  room  had  not  caused  a  rift  presumably  irreperable  between  a  couple  once  thought  a  love  match.

How  he'd  love  to  wallow,  drown  himself  in  work  back  in  the  country,  grovel  for  his  family's  forgiveness  before  repeating  the  same  wrongdoings  over  again.  Christopher  doubted  he'd  ever  have  the  gumption  to  truly  change,  his  character  already  spoiled,  rotten  to  the  core.  The  least  he  could  do  was  to  ease  his  family's  troubles,  brought  on  by  the  burden  that  was  his  nature,  and  keep  up  appearances.  Keep  up  their  good  name.

"A  game  of  pall  mall  sounds  entirely  sensible."  The  thought  of  his  dear  wife  'accidentally'  losing  her  aim  and  sending  Her  Majesty's  arrow  deep  into  some  soft  and  unguarded  part  of  him  rather  made  his  stomach  churn.  "A  group  game,  my  dear?  Or  would  you  prefer  we  go  against  one  another,  one  on  one?"

[ardentlics]

where: the queen's garden party.

when: after she has just spoken her mind far too loudly.

with: dorothea bae.

who: open to responses.

there is a monumental pause, after she flubs everything. she's left in the wake of her own words, staring at the few people around that were not so offended as to storm off, and she knows that she will be hearing a lecture from her siblings-in-law about this, if not her husband himself. she just... is not used to the temperament of the ton, and the way that londoners hold themselves, and so everyone is still staring when she tries to backtrack quickly, "apologies. you, um, you must forgive me. i have spent so long in the countryside, i must have forgotten my manners."

[mcralitas]

"pardon  me ?"  a  glass  of  some  concoction  -  lemonade,  he  suspects,  with  some  hints  of  lavender  or  elderflower  or  something  to  distract  from  the  fact  that  there  was  no  alcohol  served  to  numb  one's  senses  -  in  his  hand,  his  mind  had  been  far  away  from  the  proceedings  around  him,  gaze  fixed  on  some  members  of  his  family  standing  in  a  group  not  far  away.  enjoying  themselves,  by  the  looks  of  it.  enjoying  each  other's  company.  as  they  should,  of  course.  as  they  were  supposed  to,  and  christopher  supposed  he  was  glad  that  they  were  still  able  to,  given  the  circumstances  he  had  burneded  them  with.  rapid  blinking  of  his  eyes,  the  voice  startled  him  back  to  the  present.  "forgive  me,  i  was  ...  away  with  the  fairies  for  a  moment.  and  don't  worry,  the  country  has  a  way  of  loosening  ones  tongue  and  lightening  ones  spirits.  exactly  the  reason  why  i  much  prefer  it  to  the  city."

[motelroutes]

the  gardens,  during  virginia's  practice  of  archery,  before  competitions  finally  start. open  to  all.

the  gardens  had  been  arranged  for  leisure—laughter  drifting  between  hedges,  the  soft  clink  of  glasses,  the  occasional  cheer  from  some  distant  game—but  virginia  found  herself  drawn  elsewhere.  archery.  it  had  caught  her  eye  the  moment  she  arrived.  there  was  something  familiar  in  it,  the  stillness,  the  focus.  it  reminded  her  of  home.  of  knowing  where  to  aim  and  trusting  herself  to  follow  through.  she  supposed  that  what  she  was  more  used  to  was  more  dangerous.  still  virginia  found  herself  with  a  bow  in  hand  as  she  stepped  in  front  of  the  target.  "  well  now  ...  "  she  murmured  under  her  breath,  her  tone  soft  as  she  positioned  herself.  "  let's  see  if  you  behave  anything  like  what  i'm  used  to.  "

straightening  her  posture,  expression  sharpening  ever  so  slightly,  she  let  the  world  go  quiet  around  her  as  she  focused  on  the  distant  target  ahead.  then,  she  drew  the  string  back,  not  perfectly,  unfamiliar  with  the  tension  of  it  before  releasing.  the  arrow  flew,  striking  just  shy  of  center.  "  not  bad.  "  an  amused  smile  formed  on  her  lips  as  she  lowered  the  bow.  she  glanced  to  the  side,  finally  realizing  that  she  wasn't  alone  anymore.  "  would  you  say  that  is  beginner's  luck  ...  or  beginner's  embarrassment?  "

[mcralitas]

for  someone  never  quite  at  home  in  the  middle  of  a  crowd,  the  queen's  luncheon,  with  its  plenty  activities  inviting  people  to  come  and  linger,  christopher  felt  decidedly  out  of  his  element.  then  again,  such  affliction  overcame  him  most  anywhere  in  london  during  the  bustle  of  the  season,  when  even  the  widest  of  streets  felt  impossibly  narrow.  not  that  he'd  ever  let  any  discomfort  slip  though  the  cracks  of  the  mask  he  had  so  carefully  built  for  himself  over  the  course  of  decades,  more  akin  to  armor  now  than  anything  else.  now  more  than  anything  else,  with  hushed  whispered  following  his  every  footstep.  with  the  disapproving,  disappointed  glares  of  his  famiyl  burning  holes  into  his  back.  scarcely  anything  would  be  worse  than  losing  composure  now,  and  so  christopher  continued  just  as  usual.

rolling  his  shoulders  back,  he  stood  tall  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  wandering  from  one  station  to  the  next,  taking  in  the  sight  of  the  grand  gardens  more  than  observing  the  games  of  cards  and  kite  flying  he  passed  by.  he  had  lingered  by  the  buffet  for  a  moment,  made  polite  and  meaningless  conversation  with  neighbours  whose  names  he  could  not  remember  for  the  life  of  him,  and  had  listened  attentively  to  their  tales  from  the  off-season  for  an  appropriate  amoung  of  time  before  excusing  himself.  like  a  hamster  in  a  wheel,  he  felt  he  was  circling  through  a  limited  register  of  options.

until  finally,  tired  of  his  pacing,  he  came  to  a  halt  near  what  appeared  to  be  an  archery  station.  well.  the  queen  certainly  had  thought  of  everything.  "  neither  luck,  nor  a  beginner's.  judging  by  how  close  you  were  to  target,  i  would  argue  you  are  a  skilled  archer.  certainly  not  an  embarrassment,  i  applaud  you.  bravo.  "  a  small  bow  to  accentuate  his  words,  christopher  looked  between  where  the  arrow  had  struck  and  the  person  responsible.  "  i  apologize,  i  do  not  think  we  have  been  formally  introduced  -  or  if  we  indeed  have  met  before,  do  forgive  me,  tragically  i  do  not  have  much  of  a  memory  for  names.  lord  ellingwood,  pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance  -  or  re-make  it.  "

[mcralitas]

the   ton   is   buzzing   !   have   you   heard   ?  lord  christopher  alderidge   ,   the  marquess  of  ellingwood   has   arrived   in   mayfair   !   i   have   been   told   that   he  is   perceptive   &   persuasive  but   also   rigid     &   self-justifying   but   we   shall   know   more   about   them   as   the   season   progresses.   there  have  been  whispers  around  the  ton  stating   that   hidden  in-between  ledgers  to  be  signed  and  seemingly  meaningless  corresspondences  are  records  of  deals,  alliances  and  indiscretions  spanning  decades  that  could  bring  some  of  the  most  powerful  families  of  the  ton  to  their  knees  if  exposed   .   among  the  ton  ,  they  are  known  to  be  quietly  observing  animated  conversations  at  dinner  from  the  head  of  a  table,  a  warm  smile  curling  at  his  lips;  persisting  fatigue  for  the  season  with  each  year  that  he  returns;  preaching  composure  while  morally  faltering  in  private  !  how  they  truly  are  behind  closed  doors  ?  we  cannot  be  too  sure  .   

full name: christopher bernard alderidge / title: lord aldgeridge, marquess of ellingwood / date of birth: nineteenth of august / age: one and sixty / ancestral home: winthrope manor, ellingwood / gender: cis man / pronouns: he & him / orientation: bisexual and biromantic / occupation: acting marquess of ellingwood

[ content note: infidelity ]

widely regarded as the stoic patriarch of the alderidge family, it is the inner circle only to which he shows his true colours. ernest in town and jack in the country, the christopher at winthrope manor is characterised by a dry wit encouraging animated, and borderline improper, conversation at the dinner table. joining the rest of the family to break fast only after an extended ride along the estate at the crack of dawn. staying up into the wee hours of the night, passing the time with various games, various bottles of wine and brandy, making sure to bid each member of the family good night before retiring. keeping perfect balance between duty and leisure.

he undergoes somewhat of a character change every time march rolls around and london calls for the season. reclusive and secretive, fatigued by the machinery and mechanics of the ton - yet who isn't, after decades of playing along ? opting out of engagements that are not necessary, he has little to no will to participate, whether it be matchmaking schemes for his unmarried sons or the hosting of some grand, lavish affair ( the latter of which he will likely not refuse if asked for ).

there is an inherent longing for the fresh, cutting air of the countryside, only strengthened by the looking glass that has been aimed at his family as of recent. the natural consequence of ties to the royal family, he would not have illusioned himself with thinking it could be any other way. heightened interest surely pertains not only to his family but the ward placed in his care, whom he can regard only with a carefully neutral expression.

as much as he believes himself fiercely loyal to his family, there are certain greys to his moral character, which have accumulated over the years. pleasures of the flesh do not do well with weakness of character, yet every indiscretion is promptly self-justified after a night of indulgence. numerous affairs have been conducted over the last two decades and christopher values discretion above all else - the least he can do while comitting grievances toward his family. make sure no one finds out. make sure all speculations are stifled at the barest hint. paradoxically, as morally upright as he believes himself to be, he cannot find it within himself to regret any of his moral failings. christopher has never been a particularly pious man, after all. the concept of sin seems entirely foreign to him. perhaps there are scattered memories resurfacing in the dead of night he'd rather banish from his brain once and for all, scenes of his mother crying herself to sleep after his father had brought his mistress to live with them. and had he not sworn to himself that he would never follow in the old man's footsteps? if he makes an unfaithful, grotesque joke of a husband, well, the least he could do is be a decent father, at the very least someone that remains amiable and joyful towards his wife.

over the last few years, maybe the last decades, he has noticed it - the influence he had held over his family fading, and while he still quietly observes and perceives all, he finds he cannot control or steer his children in the right directions anymore. he can only hope they make the right decisions on their own accord and take after their mother.