𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘴.

[ ... ]  this  was  all  for  𝘆𝗼𝘂  .

[nett1es]

𓆸    LAY ME DOWN WHERE THE TREES BEND LOW. PUT ME DOWN WHERE THE GREENERY STINGS — I CAN HEAR THEM SINGING! "TO LOVE ME IS TO SUFFER ME," AND I BELIEVE IT.

#NETT1ES    ,         a         dependent     blog     written      by      paige         —     @     ikeaslut     on          discord      —     for      seasonsfm.     dni      if      you      are     not     affiliated      with      the      group.

𝑖.    MISS   MATILDA   EARNSHAW   :    introduction   ,   pinterest  𝑖𝑖.   LORD   PETER   APSLEY OF BATTLESDEN   :    introduction   ,   pinterest 

[nett1es]

          located  in  hampton court palace maze and garden,  afternoon,  when the sun is highest in the sky   &   fated  for  lord brandon beaumont , @oftimeslostlongago .

the tall hedges of the maze muffle the jovial sounds of partygoers fantastically. for the first time all day, matilda allows herself to feel at ease —  to slouch, to sigh, to lean back into the plush greenery, allow the topiary to support her, and tilt her face up towards the sun. interrupted by the crunch of the fine gravel path, matilda opens only one of her brown eyes, expecting no more than a squirrel or other similarly sized critter. “  oh!  ”  she  exclaims,  hand  flying  upwards  to  cover  her  mouth  with  a  quiet  slap,  an  attempt  at  holding  the  noise  of  surprise  in  when  it  is  already  too  late.  “  i  did  not  hear  you  approach,  ”  she  straightens,  dipping  apologetically.  what  a  fool  she  had  made  of  herself  at  the  queen's  party  thus  far.  “  you  must  be  quite  light  on  your  feet,  sir.  like  a  cat.  ”

[nett1es]

          located  in  the flower arranging booths,  late morning,  while the flower arranging area is not yet too crowded   &   fated  for  miss emine kahraman , @wuther1ngs .

“this ranunculus matches your dress nearly perfectly.”  matilda cannot help herself, the observation slipping from her lips nearly unbidden. it was uncommon for the universe to present such mundane perfections, and so she felt called to point them out when she could. it had been something she had admired in her mother — the ability to appreciate the small. she extends the bloom in the lady's direction, a bashful smile in place on her features. “  you shall have it for your arrangement, madam,  ”  comes her insistence. she has enough flowers already, crammed into her other hand such that her fingers are close to losing purchase on the green of their stems. but how can she resist bringing one of every kind back to alderidge house — pressing them between the pages of her journal. there are species of flora here that matilda has never laid eyes on in all her twenty seven years.

[nett1es]

          located  in  the garden games area,  late afternoon,  after matilda has sent an impressively horrible pall mall shot into a crowd of party attendees   &   fated  for  prince darius hanover , @hopeflickering .

“ oh  —  devil, ”  one  panicked  scottishwoman  amongst  a  sea  of  demure  members  of  the  ton,  following  the  path  that  a  black  pall  mall  ball  had  arced  in  —  far  from  its  intended  target  in  the  game's  fourth  arch.  matilda  nearly  hoped  to  be  struck  down  where  she  stood.  “  my  deepest  apologies,  ”  she  drags  her  eyes  up  from  the  ball  once  she  has  snatched  it  from  the  grass,  uprooting  a  few  green  blades  along  with  it.  they  poke  between  her  fingers  where  she  holds  the  former  projectile  behind  her  back,  as  if  hiding  it  from  view  will  erase  it  from  the  affected  party's  memory.  “  please —  forgive  me, my lord.  or  forgive  lord  alderidge,  who  taught  me  to  play so fantastically poorly  just  a  mere  hour  ago.  ”   offering  a  belated  bow,  half  -  remembered  entirely  too  late.  matilda  has  thrown  bernard  to  the  wolves  —  but  is  that  not  what  elder  siblings  are  for? after a second, she feels guilty: “  it is lord alderidge who did the teaching, but it is i alone who brought the lack of talent to the equation.  ”

[amerie-wadia]

LITTLE WOMEN 2019 dir. Greta Gerwig

[nett1es]

          located  in  the entrance to st hampton court palace,  late morning,  just after the alderidges have exited their carriages   &   fated  for  lord benedict alderidge, @a1taers .

in  her  short  time  with  the  alderidges,  matilda  has  fallen  comfortably  into  position  at  the  rear  of  their  pack.  she  trails  but  a  few  steps  behind  them  now,  hands  held  neatly  before  her,  minding  the  lectures  she'd  received  on  how  things  appeared.  the  family  looks  like  the  back  side  of  a  fantastic  painting,  one  that  should  be  hung  in  the  exhibition  room  at  the  royal  academy.  she  finds  herself  lagging,  and  so  speeds  up,  finding  herself  in  the  presence  of  benedict.  she  says  nothing  for  a  moment,  not  up  to  the  task  of  attempting  to  pierce  the  layer  of  ice  that  he  had  put  between  them  since  her  arrival.  “  you  sat  up  quite  late  into  the  night,  ”  she  notes  finally,  recalling  the  candlelight  streaming  from  beneath  his  bedroom  door  when  she  had  risen  in  attempt  to  fight  off  her  own  insomnia the night prior.  “  are you not tired?  ”

[nett1es]

          located  in  the garden games area,  early afternoon,  by the pall mall arches   &   fated  for  lord bernard alderidge, @regenc1es .

in  the  distance,  matilda  can  see  the  brightly  coloured  bodies  and  tails  of  kites  floating  on  the  breeze.  black  mallet  clutched  in  one  hand,  she  uses  the  other  to  shade  her  eyes  from  the  early  spring  sunlight  as  she  sidles  closer  to  bernard  out  of  a  desperate  necessity.  she  flips  the  mauve  silk  of  her  skirts  out  of  the  path  of  her  grass  -  addled  shoes  as  she  does,  careful  not  to  soil  the  garment  the  marchioness  had  only  just  bestowed  upon  her.  the  game  was  due  to  begin,  and  matilda  had  not  a  single  clue  what  what  expected  of  her.  “  bernard,  ”  she  speaks  the  eldest  alderidge's  name  as  if  it  were  a  question  rather  than  a  beckon  for  his  attention.  “  how  does  one  …  play  pall  mall?  ”

[esctcric]

"  pardon  ?  you  must  repeat  that.  i  must  have  misheard  you  —  your  own  maid  is  having  you  wait  here  in  this  terrible  cold  weather  ?  "  cold  was  an  exaggeration,  but  it  made  the  crime  appear  far  worse.  "  you  must  make  a  gracious  employer.  most  ladies  would  have  a  bit  of  steam  out  of  their  ears  under  these  circumstances.  are  you  certain  you  are  not  being  too  kind  ?  "  and  the  odd  thing  was  that  he  had  no  clue  if  his  assumptions  were  even  a  little  bit  correct  —  he  had  no  clue  about  the  woman's  identity.  he  had  no  gossip  to  tie  to  her  name.  he  had  no  presumptions.  he  rarely  found  himself  in  this  position,  and  now  he  was  uncertain  if  he  liked  the  mystery  or  not.  "  bloodhounds  ?  hopefully  the  tardy  maid  will  do  no  such  thing,  "  he  replied  with  a  lopsided  smile.  "  may  i  offer  to  walk  you  wherever  it  is  that  you  need  to  be  ?  "

[nett1es]

matilda's  gaze  shifts  about.  the  london  air  is  balmy,  thick  with  from  the  insulation  provided  by  all  of  its  buildings,  urbane  and  densely  populated  when  compared  to  northern  scotland's  wide  -  openness  —  its  thin,  forceful,  frigid  gales  that  swept  across  the  moors.  “  it  is  not  as  you  say,  ”  she  insists,  shaking  her  head  slightly.  her  hair,  which  the  lady  maid  in  question  had  styled  in  the  fashion  that  matched  that  of  the  other  ladies  of  the  ton,  bounces  to  and  fro.  it  is  pleasant,  matilda  thinks,  to  be  costumed  as  if  she  were  one  of  them.  for  a  moment,  she  pretends  that  she  is.  “  it  was  i  who  sent  her  away.  all  of  my  best  thinking  is  done  in  solitude.  ”  it  was  not  about  kindness.  in  fact,  it  was  about  matilda's  own  selfishness.  she  had  wished  to  be  alone,  and  so  she  had  made  it  thus.  “  as  to  what  sort  of  employer  i  am  —  i  am  not.  ”  her shoulders  shrug  upwards  slightly  before  dropping  back  in  place.  “  it  is  lord  elingwood  who  employs  her,  ”  she  explains, examining his face — perhaps improperly, as she does,  “  and  it  is  he  who  will  send  the  hounds.  ”  this,  she  knows,  is  untrue.  matilda,  in  her  insecurity,  suspects  the  marquess  would  feel  only  relief  if  she  were  to  disappear.  it  would  be  difficult,  perhaps,  to  explain  the  sudden  departure  of  his  ward.  an  orphaned  daughter  of  a  friend  from  his  time  at  eton.  but  stories  could  be  spun  as  easily  as  wool  on  a  loom.  “  you  are  kind,  sir.  ”  she  considers  declining,  but  imagines  the  marchioness's  disapproval  at  her  arriving  home  alone,  after  dusk.  the  woman  seemed  to  prefer  that  matilda  keep  up  appearances.  “  what  is  your  name?  ”  the  question  escapes  the  rose  of  her  lips  as  she  stands,  stumbling  over  the  outer  bounds  of  her  knowledge  of  high  society  conversation.  from  here  on  out,  she  is  left  with  only  what  she  knows  from  her  upbringing  in  scotland.

[balonstrong]

𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝓇 @nett1es miss matilda earnshaw alderidge house*, mayfair, london

"Come, my dear," said Athénaïs, imperiously, and without preamble, sweeping into the room like a queen. "Such a closet as you currently boast simply won't do for court. I mean to whisk you off to the Modiste, at once. Won't that be fun, hm?"

Her new ward had so far proven strangely reluctant to part with her wardrobe. Athénaïs suspected her of droll sentimentality, a thing she found to be both impractical and tedious.

"You can hardly be presented to so august a personage as His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales in such garb, and I'm afraid to tell you he will most certainly visit us at some juncture or other, given the nearness of our relation. Come, won't you see sense? Besides, you are such a pretty thing..."

She fell silent a moment, forcing a smile. She fought back the impulse to wonder if Miss Earnshaw's mother had looked so when Athénaïs' own husband had taken her to his bed. Yet it was a losing one, for all that her expression remained quite impassive. She knew too well what such weaknesses he had. She'd hoped never to have to look them in the face.

At last, with a flick of her brow, she pulled herself from her reverie, her voice but little strained when she said, "You will look very well in new gowns, I daresay."

[nett1es]

there  was  no  reason  for  discomfort  within  the  walls  of  alderidge  house  in  mayfair.  the  hearths  armed  the  building  against  the  lingering,  late  march  chill  that  threatened  londonites  through  the  glass  panes  of  their  bedroom  windows  as  they  slept.  at  mealtimes,  there  were  a  plethora  of  options  set  forth  upon  the  long  mahogany  table  —  at  which  matilda  sat  in  the  seat  which  boasted  the  greatest  distance  away  from  the  marquess.  the  room  that  had  been  set  aside  for  her  was  comfortable,  plush,  clad  in  the  alderidge  purple-red  that  was  reminiscent  to  matilda  of  an  angry  bruise.  yet  still,  she  managed  to  strain  against  its  confines.  a  gilded  cage  was  still  a  cage,  she  supposed.  though  it  was  she  who  had  chosen  to  seek  out  her  father  in  elingwood.  it  was  she  who  had  set  herself  upon  this  path,  at  her  mother's  final  request.  thus,  she  could  only  lay  the  blame  on  herself  for  the  way  that  she  had  only  breathed  shallowly  since  their  arrival  in  london,  terrified  to  take  up  the  extra  space  that  the  expansion  of  her  ribs  required.

the  marchioness's  entrance  into  the  dayroom  is  unexpected  for  more  than  one  single  reason.  matilda  had  selected  the  room  only  after  she  was  sure  it  would  go  unused  well  into  the  afternoon,  pressing  flowers  between  the  yellowed  pages  of  her  journal  at  the  table  most  oft  reserved  for  tea.  watching  the  graceful  sweep  of  athénaïs's  walk,  her  skirts  whirling  around  her  feet  like  an  eddie,  matilda  finds  herself  on  edge.  she  is  waiting,  perhaps,  for  the  woman  to  show  her  ire.  to  admit  that  she  wishes  ill  upon  her  husband's  bastard.  to  treat  her  cruelly.  in  the  waiting  lies  a  miniature  hell.  “  yes,  lady  elingwood,  ”  she  assents.  there  is  little  sense,  matilda  thinks,  in  resisting.  she  shuts  her  journal  upon  a  black  pansy,  pressing  her  palm  to  the  dark  leather  cover  protectively. 

besides,  she  is  not  adverse  to  the  concept  of  a  new  wardrobe.  in  rannoch  moor,  she  had  worn  little  colour.  black,  as  morose  a  colour  as  it  was,  was  so  often  the  uniform  of  the  undertaker  and  his  brood.  she  might  like  to  don  a  dress  of  emerald  green,  if  only  once  in  her  life.  instead,  it  is  the  idea  of  being  indebted  to  a  family  which  did  not  give  out  of  their  desire  for  her  to  join  in  their  ranks  that  spurs  her  dread.  matilda,  clad  in  the  poof  and  frill  that  marked  the  other  ladies  of  the  ton  for  what  they  were,  would  be  well  and  truly  invisible.  just  as  the  alderidges  wished.  it  was  somewhat  pitiful,  but  matilda  thought  she  might  wish  for  the  same.  “  you  are  kind,  my  lady,  ”  she  murmurs  in  response  to  the  compliment,  having  risen  now  to  stand  beside  the  table  with  arms  neatly  folded  behind  her  back.  “  and  of  course,  you  are  right.  i  do  not  wish  to  appear  …  foolishly  clad  before  the  prince.  ”  she  wrinkles  her  nose,  almost  imperceptibly.  perhaps  that  was  not  the  correct  phrasing.

[a1taers]

one  advantage  of  being  away  from  her  aunt  soojin  (  for  now  )  was  that  seoyeon  had  freedom  somehow  .  not  that  she  did  not  enjoy  her  lady  aunt's  company  it  was  just  that  seoyeon  did  not  know  anyone  else's.  before  travelling  to  london  for  the  season  ,  her  world  had  been  confined  mostly  to  her  aunt’s  estate  in  briarwood  ,  and  occasionally  that  of  ashebrook.  "  oh  !  "  seoyeon  blinked  ,  momentarily  startled  .  raven-haired  femme  reached  out  to  reticule  only  pause  in  dismay  for  she  had  left  her  pocket  watch  at  home  .  "  i  beg  your  pardon  ,  miss  .  it  appears  i  have  forgotte  my  watch  .  "  seoyeon  frowned  .  "where  you  expected  to  be  somewhere  ?  i  was  about  to  depart  myself  .  my  carriage  is  waiting  just  outside  —  if  you  require  it,  I  would  be  more  than  happy  to  offer  you  a  ride.”

[nett1es]

anxiety,  that  which  had  not  existed  mere  moments  ago,  brews  in  matilda's  chest  like  a  coming  storm.  “  please  do  not  beg  my  pardon,  ”  she  insists,  eyebrows  raised  slightly  in  gentle  adamance.  “  for  i  have  forgotten  mine  as  well.  it  seems  a  common  oversight,  today.  ”  she  offers  the  other  lady  a  small  smile.  it  is  intended  to  be  conspiratorial,  but  matilda  has  had  no  one  to  conspire  with  in  a  few  months  now.  perhaps  she  is  rusty.  perhaps  the  lady  will  think  her  to  be  maliciously  poking  fun.  the  smile  fades,  lips  turning  downwards  until  they  once  more  form  a  straight  line.  the  expectations  of  the  ton,  matilda  supsects,  will  soon  begin  to  keep  her  up  at  night.  “  i  would  accept  only  if  your  planned  route  brings  you  past  alderidge  house?  ”  she  questions,  standing  with  her  hands  clasps  in  front  of  her  hips  girlishly.  “  or  even  somewhat  near,  i  suppose.  i  do  so  love  walks.  ”

[esctcric]

" the time ? " alphonse repeated, barely managing to keep a note of annoyance from his voice. checking the time was such a boresome task. as his hand dug into his front pocket he turned to look at the woman properly. he could only admire the delicate features, pretty rosy cheeks and the graceful line of her neck. suddenly the worthless task of telling the time was simply the best use of his time ! helping other people was the best way to pass time in alphonse's opinion — as long as the person being helped was an enchanting unmarried lady. he was a simple man with simple pleasures ! " quarter to seven. " which meant that every dinner table in mayfair was being prepared, candles were being lit, silverware were being set in straight lines on white linen. " has someone forgotten to fetch you ? " could it be ? had god blessed him with the opportunity to play a hero ?

[nett1es]

matilda's  life  nearly  flashes  before  her  eyes.  quarter  to  seven  was  horrifically  late.  terribly,  extremely  and  unforgivably  tardy.  in  truth,  she  cannot  bring  herself  to  care  too  horribly  —  she  had  not  had  a  curfew  in  rannoch  moor.  years  of  habitual  coming  and  going  whenever  she  pleased  seemed  to  block  her  sense  of  urgency  when  it  came  to  keeping  to  the  alderidges'  schedule.  still,  she  knows  that  she  should  care.  she  should  care  quite  a  bit,  in  fact.  the  rules  of  the  ton  were  strict,  and  she  was  already  in  breach  of  them  by  allowing  her  lady's  maid  to  depart  from  her  side. there was a ruse to hold up, after all.  “  anne  —  my  lady's  maid.  she  should  have  returned  by  now.  ”  but  then  again,  the  staff  at  the  marquess's  london  home  owed  her  no  loyalties.  perhaps  they  too  wished  to  be  rid  of  the  house's  new  ward, offended by her very existence.  she  stands,  smoothing  any  wrinkles  from  the  front  of  her  gown,  newly  purchased  for  her  at  the  marchioness's  uncomfortable insistence.  sparing  one  last  glance  for  the  delectableness  of  the  tea  cake,  matilda  moves  her  gaze at last  to  that  of  the  gentleman's,  offering  a  belated  bob  of  her  head.  “i  had  best  return  before  they  send  the  bloodhounds  out  to  retrieve  me  by  scent,”  she  jests,  though  the  pink  of  her  lips  press  together  in  a  mirthless  line. 

[fairhecrt-deactivated20260408]

another lovely day in mayfair meant another walk through the city's center with her son , theodore . that boy was very curious and loved to people watch as he strowed hand in hand with her . she had let him run on ahead to gunter's tea shop , likely to get his favorite tea cake slice . they were loyal customers ; her always writing for them to cater her events at covenhall . ❝ theo , dear , do not spoil your supper , alright ? one slice only . ❞ he nods and takes a seat at a table , the owner bringing it out for him specifically . it was getting rather late in the day , the sun having started to descend in the sky . the fan in emmeline's other hand making its appearance to help keep her cool as she stood and waited for theo . he soon joined her as a woman sitting near her quietly asked about the time . theo , turning into the little gentleman he was , pulled out his pocket watch and examined it. he showed it to his mother , who politely answered for him . ❝ it is half past four . ❞

[nett1es]

at  home  on  the  moors  of  rannoch,  there  had  been  no  children  about  since  matilda  herself  was  young.  still,  she  enjoyed  the  thought  of  them.  the  tableau  set  by  the  red  -  headed  boy,  his  mother,  and  his  cake,  is  one  that  renders  her  strangely  wistful.  a  smile  finds  its  way  to  her  face  following  her  question,  finally  registering  with  whom  it  is  that  she  speaks.  “  that  is  quite  the  handsome  watch,  ”  she  remarks,  a  sincerity  to  her  tone  that  is  not  oft  reserved  for  those  in  conversation  with  children.  she  thinks  of  the  watch  she  had  brought  with  her  from  home  to  elingwood,  tucked  away  carefully  in  her  singular  trunk.  it  had  been  her  grandfather's.  “  thank  you,  madam,  ”  she  turns  back  to  the  boy's  mother,  remembering  herself.  “  truly  —  ”  she  feels  her  cheeks  pinkening,  embarrassed  at  the  social  faux  pas  she  has  likely  committed.  she  hopes  that  her  conversation  partner  will  write  it  off  as  a  side  effect  of  the  oncoming  evening's  chill.  “  i  would  have  no  idea  how  terribly  late  i  was  if  not  for  your  help.  the  help  of  you  both.  ”

[proph3sy]

there  had  been  very  little  time  indeed  to  acquaint  herself  with  matilda  earnshaw. (  caroline  would  not  call  her  sister  just  yet.  ) there  had  been  plenty  of  time  to  rage  at  her  father,  the  words  of  their  argument  undoubtedly  reaching  the  ears  of  the  alderidges'  ward,  but  caroline  had  kept  to  her  brothers  whenever  she  visited  home,  though  she  knew  such  childishness  could  not  continue  for  long  now  that  the  season  had  started  up  anew.  expectations  would  be  had  to  see  her  familiar  with  matilda,  so  that  the  story  that  had  been  prepared  would  be  believable,  so  upon  visiting  their  mayfair  home,  caroline  had  sent  one  of  her  maids  to  inquire  on  the  ward,  taking  a  chance  to  speak  to  (  ambush  )  her  away  from  the  eyes  of  their  kin. ❝  it  is  half  past  four.  ❞ the  question  had  been  posed  to  her  maid  but  it  is  the  princess  of  wales  that  answers. ❝  move,  girl  and  mind  the  passersby.  ❞  she  brushes  past  the  maid,  slipping  a  coin  into  her  palm  for  added  security,  taking  a  seat  opposite  matilda.  ❝  my  girl  tells  me  you  have  been  sitting  here  for  some  time.  are  you  well  ?  it  would  not  do  to  have  our  ward  missing  so  early  in  the  season.  ❞  her  gaze  lifts,  dark  brow  furrowed  as  she  takes  in  the  tea  shop  and  a  thought  strikes  her.  ❝  ...  you  haven't  been  ...  stood  up  by  a  gentleman,  have  you  ?  ❞

[nett1es]

princess  caroline  was  stained  glass  beautiful,  dark  haired  in  contrast  to  the  clearest  of  blue  eyes.  perhaps  she  had  gotten  such  beauty  from  the  marchioness.  perhaps  it  was  her  personality  shining  through  from  within,  the  light  of  it  illuminating  her  colours.  matilda  would  not  know,  for  she  knew  the  least  of  caroline  out  of  her  host  of  newfound  half  siblings.  living  amongst  the  alderidge  brothers,  she  had  been  able  to  glean  information  about  even  benedict,  who  remained  distant  to  this  day.  learning  things  of  the  princess  not  as  simple  as  a  situation  of  forced  proximity,  pushed  into  the  same  carriage,  eating  at  the  same  table,  sleeping  beneath  the  same  roof. 

“  your  highness,  ”  matilda  speaks,  the  measure  of  her  voice  incompatible  with  the  pang  of  apprehension  that  throbs  in  time  with  the  beat  of  her  heart.  she  dips  her  head  slightly,  unsure  of  what  politeness  the  situation  calls  for.  her  dark  gaze  remains  lowered,  glued  once  again  to  the  untouched  plate  before  her.  she  thinks  she  might  prefer  to  be  smote  to  dust  by  god  himself  than  be  subject  to  caroline's  spontaneous  holding  of  court.  she  was  not  so  foolish  that  she  did  not  notice  the  princess's  avoidance  of  her,  but  nor  was  she  so  childish  that  she  could  not  understand  it.  the  result  left  her  in  a  place  of  limbo,  upset  at  her  pseudo  -  exile  but  willing  to  remain  so  as  long  as  required.  “  i  am  well,  ”  she  nods,  gaze  turned  to  the  princess's  lady  maid  as  she  stands  off  to  the  side,  invisiblized.  matilda  finds  she  feels  a  kinship  to  her.  “  i  meant  not  to  concern  you.  ” 

she  turns  her  gaze  back  to  her  plate,  concealing  an  amused  smile.  it  is  a  poor  effort,  the  corners  of  her  lips  tweaking  skywards.  “  no,  i  have  not  been  stood  up,  ”  she  insists,  shaking  her  head  slightly.  matilda  finds  herself  basking  in  the  moment,  this  private  amusement  elicited  by  a  woman  with  whom  she  shares  blood,  even  if  caroline  seems to revile  the  fact.  it  is  familiar,  reminding  matilda  of  home.  reminding  her  of  the  family  she  had  grown  up  with,  rather  than  the  one  she  had  forced  herself  within  the  bounds  of.  “  i'd  rather  think  one  would  have  to  be  invited  someplace  by  a  gentleman  to  be  stood  up  by  him.  i  only  lost  track  of  time.  ”

[arwen-evenstar-archive-deactiva]

Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet in Pride & Prejudice (2005)

[motelroutes]

long  walks  have  always  been  her  favorite  pastime.  just  her  and  the  world  around  her,  taking  it  all  in  as  if  it  could  be  any  day  that  it  would  be  taken  from  her.  her  eyes  were  look  up  at  the  sky,  now  orange  in  color,  when  a  voice  caught  her  attention,  causing  her  to  stop  in  her  tracks.  eyes  locking  onto  the  woman  before  her,  virginia  nodded  her  head,  a  soft  smile  placed  on  her  lips.  "  yes,  darling.  "  she  looked  around  while  taking  a  step  closer,  still  a  barrier  kept  them  apart.  "  is  all  alright?  "

[nett1es]

to  be  called  darling  puts  a  lump  in  matilda's  throat.  despite  the  ever-stoked  hearths  at  winthrop  manor  in  elingwood,  the  demeanours  of  her  newfound  family  had  remained  frigid.  it  was  only  bernard  who  had  spoken  to  her  as  if  she  were  a  person  rather  than  a  black  mark  on  the  family  reputation  personified.  her  mother's  absence  was  a  wound  that  ached,  rather  than  simply  haunted  in  the  form  of  a  scar.  “  oh  —  ”  she  swallows  the  emotion  back  before  it  has  the  chance  to  reach  her  features,  pasting  a  thin  smile  upon  her  lips  for  the  lady's  benefit.  “ all  is  well,  my  lady. ”  matilda's  glance  slides  to  the  delicate,  pink  icing,  her  mind  preoccupied  with  the  endless  list  of  rules  for  social  niceties  that  were  expected  of  her  in  mayfair.  “ i  only  ask  because i  seem  to  have  been  due  home  quite  a  while  ago.  i  have  frittered  the  afternoon  away  ... admiring  a  cake. ”  her  smile  turns  sheepish,  unsure  why  she  has  confessed  such  banality  to  the  poor  woman  before  her.  these  things  were  difficult, matilda found — other  people. 

[nett1es]

          located  in  gunter's tea shop,  late afternoon but nearing dusk,  at a table just outside of the shop in the crisp, march air   &   fated  for  any who wish to reply, 5 / 5 .

matilda  could  not  bring  herself  to  eat  the  tea  cake  placed  before  her.  it  was  not  the  taste,  for  this  was  not  the  first  of  guther's  confections  that  she  had  tried  in  her  short  time  in  mayfair.  she  knew  them  to  be  nothing  short  of  decadent,  their  sweetness  seeming  to  last  on  her  tongue  for  hours  post  last  bite.  it  was  not  the  company,  either  — for  she  was  alone,  the  lady's  maid  sent  to  accompany  her  having  scurried  off  to  the  haberdashery  at  matilda's  insistence  that  she  would  be  just  fine.  and  in  truth,  she  was  more  than  just  fine.  she  enjoyed  inspecting  every  facet  of  the  cake,  marvelling  at  its  beauty,  its  colour,  its  crisp  lines  that  she  had  previously  thought  impossible  to  produce  out  of  food.  the  problem  lay  therein.  the  cake  was  simply  too  pretty  to  eat.  a  few  of  the  earliest  of  summer  bugs  had  had  no  such  reservations,  tasting  at  the  pink  of  the  icing  before  buzzing  off  once  more.  matilda  twisted  her  plate  neatly  every  so  often,  if  only  to  inspect  it  from  another  angle. 

it  was  long  before  she  took  note  of  the  time,  of  the  sun  straining  to  keep  its  place  in  the  sky. she clears her throat before locking eyes with a passerby, as if it will rid her words of the scottish brogue she had brought with her when she came creeping and hardly invited into london high society.  “ excuse  me  — do  you  happen  to  have  the  time? ”  she  questions,  eyebrows  knit  together  over  brown  eyes,  her  worry  at  the  prospect  of  arriving  back  to  the  alderidges'  home  in  mayfair  late  outweighing  her  usual  preference  towards  keeping  to  herself. 

[nett1es]

━━  ⊰ [   hannah   dodd   ,   twenty  -  seven   ,    cis   woman   ,   she/her   ]   the   ton   is   buzzing!  have   you  heard?  matilda   earnshaw  of  elingwood  has  arrived  in  mayfair!  i  have  been   told  that  she is   gentle  &  watchful  but  also  ascetic  &  macabre  but  we  shall  know  more  about  them   as  the  season  progresses.  there  have  been  whispers  around  the   ton  stating  that  she  is  the   illegitimate  child  of  the  marquess   of  elingwood.   among  the  ton,  she  is  known  to  be   reminiscent of the  scent  of  wilting  lilacs  on  the   sill  of  an  open  window,  filling  your  lungs  with  the  fresh  morning  fog,  sun - bleached  eyelashes,  and  the  uneasy   prickle  that  casts  over  your  skin  when  someone   is  watching  you! who  are they   truly behind   closed  doors?  we  cannot  be  too   sure.   

𓆸 BASIC INFORMATION .

full name miss matilda mary earnshaw title(s) ward of elingwood age twenty seven birthdate 10th october 1785 languages spoken english and latin, both in a soft scottish brogue place of birth rannoch moor, scotland, great britain

𓆸 FAMILY INFORMATION .

father the marquess of elingwood —  this is unknown to the ton mother mary earnshaw​ †, of the earnshaw family of undertakers in rannoch moor, scotland siblings lord bernard alderidge, lord barron alderidge, caroline princess of wales, lord benedict alderidge (half - siblings) relatives lord alistair alderidge (uncle) marital status unmarried, unbetrothed — debuting for the first time this season issue none

𓆸 PERSONALITY TYPE .

abilities flower arranging — skilled at making something beautiful out of the most mundane of weeds, her maternal grandfather is an undertaker by trade and thus she knows much of the burial process and carpentry (however she mostly dealt with the families rather than doing any of the physical labour involved in the trade), a talented chess player moral alignment true neutral positives gentle, watchful, empathetic, resourceful negatives ascetic, macabre, withdrawn, distrusting pass times reading by candlelight (particularly loves shakespeare's tragedies), strolling the gardens, going for long walks in general, tilting her face up to the sun and recharging as if she is a plant character inspirations ellen hutter (nosferatu), beth march (little women), sophie beckett (an offer from a gentleman), jon snow (asoiaf), mary beth gaskill (red dead redemption 2)

𓆸 PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES .

height five foot six, 170 cm build thin, willowy, looks taller than she actually is hair light chestnut brown, falling just below her shoulder blades eyes dark brown notable features she has a small chip in the corner of her left front tooth, noticeable only when she smiles widely wardrobe notably dressed in last season's styles, prefers darker shades and jewel tones to pastels face hannah dodd

𓆸 BACK STORY .

TW DEATH BY ILLNESS

when you were small, the absence of a father in your life was hardly noticeable. for the first eleven years of your time on this earth, your grandfather filled the role. for the rest, you had no benchmark to measure the lack against. the scottish moors were hardly well-populated — nothing, compared to the bustling london streets you would beg your mother to describe for you on occasion, dipping into the shallow pool of her memories from her time as a lady's maid. your uncles, your cousins, your mother, and the headstones in the cemetery surrounding your family home were your village, your king and country. you come from a long line of undertakers, and so the eerie silence of death was your default. the earnshaws were known for their straight faces, for their steeled spines, for their ability to face the greatest mystery of life head on each day and push on.

there were never any running children, never laughter, never tea cakes or silks or fine music in the earnshaw house. there were creaking floorboards, tendrils of moor mist creeping in under doors, wind whistling past shuddering window panes. so too was there always fresh blooms in the vases scattered around the house. there was always warm stew for supper. there was always love. your uncles dealt with the burials, your mother the blooms that would adorn the coffins as their loved ones came to bid adieu to a family member for the final time. you spent your days as your mother's shadow, watching her over the pages of a book as she made something beautiful out of nothing more than a clump of heather picked from the hillside. she was your entire world, the compass you navigated by —  and as such, when she passed, everything came crumbling down.

at the end of her life, plagued by a horrific cough that would never cease, mary earnshaw wished for something greater for her daughter than what had become of she herself. she had known death her entire life, had known the scent of it, the sound of its approach. a letter, penned to her daughter's father, was sent in preparation. upon her death, she would tell you of your father's identity, though you had not once asked after him. she would encourage you to go to him, to seek out what may be owed to you by blood, if not loyalty, if not stature. when your mother was buried in the family plot alongside your grandfather, the dirt over her grave still dark, sodden, and without sprout of grass, you made for winthrop manor.

you had not expected a warm welcome. you had not truly expected to be taken in at all. each day that you awoke in the alderidges' country home, you expected to be put out by evenfall. the eviction never came, however, and so you have fallen into a sense of complacency that you begrudge. you worry. a young woman, with no money, no remaining family, and no title to your name —  there was no life better for you in the cards than the one that the alderidges offered. but just as they offered it, they could also rip it away at a moment's notice.

𓆸 EXTRA INFORMATION .

the earnshaws (her mother's family) owned a well-known undertaking business in the north of scotland! as a young woman, her mother travelled to london to act as a lady's maid, but returned when she fell pregnant with matilda by the marquess of elderidge #scandal — the earnshaws handled all aspects of funeral services, burial, etc. and so matilda is pretty well-rounded in terms of knowledge. however, she did prefer the prettier jobs like flower arranging, and so that's where her skills truly lie.

definitely keeps to herself, but also somehow gives very sage advice??? it's nearly unnatural, considering that she grew up in the middle of nowhere with only her family members and the mist for company, but some people are naturally wise and contemplative — and she's one of those people.

this will be her debut season in london, and she absolutely is looking for a spouse — she does not like being beholden to the alderidges, mostly because she does not trust that their welcome will last forever. she understands that being the marquess's illegitimate child makes her presence uncomfortable for her half-siblings and especially the marchioness, so she remains wary about her position in mayfair and as a ward of their house.

however, she's been with them a few months now and has travelled in from their country home to mayfair for the season — things are starting to seem stable, she's starting to get her footing when it comes to the ins and outs of high society (though she definitely could use some more help in that area), and she has begun allowing herself to dream of a life above her station. this could prove disastrous, but! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯