It's My Party

And I'll cry if I want to! Abbernath Weston || 29 || Lord  Wealth Status: High • Connection Status: Low • Title Status: High • Marriage Status: Single

[stmaur-rp]

The Scandalous Heart

Abbernath Weston • 29 • Lord • Wealth Status: High • Connection Status: Low • Title Status: High • Marriage Status: Single

• Aesthetic:

Bellow the songs of your party, raise the flutes of champagne, grab all that’s desired and leave no one behind. Memento Mori carved into the flesh of your skin, the night is your habitat, the day but a faint memory. Excitement, the ever on-going search for excitement, for a thrill, for something new, for something forbidden, and the realisation that there’s no one you’ve called ‘friend’ in many a-year.

• Impact:

Heart: Your mother is ill, and her last wish is to see you happy in the arms of a wife. You’re a sweet person. You do believe in love and you do believe that your future wife should be treated well. You don’t mean to hurt anyone, at least not because of your direct purposeful actions. So even if you find it hard to care, you’re attending London Season to see if there is a woman out there for you. One who you can rest in her arms in, happily, before it’s too late.

Scandalous: If you do it once, you’ll do it again. Smoking, drinking, gambling, women. You started when you were twenty and you haven’t stopped since. There’s not a single taboo you haven’t broken, including kissing ladies on balls, undressing in the city, or losing large sums of your fortune. But why’s that so wrong? Is life not meant to be fun? Meant to be for the living?

• Connections: 

Servants: Friends with most servants as he repeatedly uses them as private messengers for his affairs. Also uses the servants corridors to creep through great houses unbeknownst to their owners. [Additional secret information will be shared upon application.] Note: His connection status is low not because he’s not well know, but because he is too well known and most people are told to avoid him. Everyone will have heard of him and his libertine ‘escapades’.

[scandalous-heart]

soleil-timide​:

.

Florence was delighted to take his arm, and once again, that curious fellows words bounced around her mind. Lord Abbernath did seem rather strong, though she could hardly believe him to be violent. She giggled at his assessment, very nearly adoring him for it. The golden-haired lady nodded at his question. “There are a good deal more trees at home than London. Oh, but I do miss home,” she confessed shyly. What would he thing of her for it? Surely, that she was terribly dull. Florence pressed on still, hopeful that perhaps he’d forgive her for it.

“This was my first season, you see, but I rather like the quiet of home. Here, there’s so much to be done, so many rules to follow and worry over. Home is lonely, but it’s quiet. There’s no one gawking at me for helping in the kitchen, and I can spend hours sketching the garden. London has been very exciting, and the balls and parties have been fun, but i do miss the peace of the country,” Florence explained, almost apologetically. “I can only hope you’ll forgive such an unexciting answer,” the youngest Talbot answered. “But as you said, there are a number of marvelous trees in the country. One must keep such things in mind, wouldn’t you agree?”

The evening sky opened up above them as they stepped out into the garden, and Florence let slip her small shy confession. The way she spoke it was almost too endearing for Abbernath to bear. This was not someone boasting of their magnificent country seat, or someone condemning London society. She was just a girl, a little homesick.

And then there was a flood of words that stirred up a thousand curiosities on him. He wanted to ask a question after each word, but the endless etiquette lessons he'd been subjected to meant he was incapable of interrupting. At least while he was still trying to impress her. "You help in the kitchen?" It was said with a kind of awe. He knew the Talbots had fallen on hard times, but he hadn't yet learned how they were coping with it. Most people tried to carry on as if nothing had changed, that was the impression Alastair had given. But here was Florence, eager to get back to the simple joys of simple tasks. "And draw?" He was beaming just at the image of her sketching away in a sunny country garden.

"No no, not unexciting at all. Sometimes I wish I had somewhere to miss. We reside nearly always in London, and I enjoy it, I do. But sometimes it feels like there is somewhere else I'm longing for, only, there isn't anywhere. Or if there is I haven't found it yet." He smiled a little bittersweet smile. "Perhaps it's the place where all the marvellous trees are growing."

[scandalous-heart]

zahir-qureshi​:

♣ ♣ ♣

The thing was that for all the armour and the distance he loved to put between himself and other people, Zahir sought their approval and their praise. It did not matter that Lord Weston was not the perfect gentleman who Zahir wished to one day serve, he was still a Lord and he was still a man who spoke with confidence. So, of course, Zahir believed his praise and had the content look of a cat that is well fed and we’ll thread. Only the purr was lacking to complete the picture. “Of course, I did,” he said, but there was no real bite to it. The compliment had mellowed him enough that he could even muster up is ever-present pride and sneer. Why, there was even a smile on his lips. A rare sight, for it was a genuine one albeit small and had no trace of mocking in it!

It was with that smile that he fed Abbernath another grape, humming in a way that let Abby know Zahir was not really convince that the Lord was merely content.

Now the smile slipped a little and her came a groan of someone who recognise a stubborn dog. “What a simple creature you are, my Lord..” he said, stalling. In truth, he did not quite know how to answer the question. Of course, rise in his position would make him happy. Seeing Miss Forester might also make him happy. Having his brother once again rely on him rather than on Deepak, too, would make him happy. Having more money to send home so his mother wouldn’t have to work as hard anymore—despite the fact that she simply still insisted on working regardless. “Winning the match. I think that would make me happy,” he said, with a little shrug.

"And you call me a simple creature?" It was teasing but not mocking. To win the match, and bring happiness, a simple wish indeed. Abby sat up then, though he was grieved to lose the gentle patting and the grape feeding.

"Though it puts a lot more weight on the game, doesn't it? To have your happiness hinge on this one victory. Perhaps you were right, perhaps I was not taking it as seriously as I should have." Though he could not have known that for Zahir to lose would mean to lose his happiness. He thought hard for a moment.

"I'm afraid I still cannot play on your team, if you should even still want that. If I did, the game would not be about the game at all, it would be about the scandal of a gentleman taking up arms with the working men to defeat his own kind. Even if we won, it would be an overshadowed victory." He clapped Zahir on the shoulder with all earnestness. "Besides, I'm really not very good even when I'm trying. I'd probably be more of a hindrance than a help." His smile shone back through then. "Though I should have sorely liked to help you win your happiness."

[scandalous-heart]

soleil-timide​:

.

Abbernath Weston..the name echoed in her mind. It was familiar..perhaps it was Alastair? Yes..Alastair had told her something of Lord Abbernath Weston, but Florence couldn’t for the life of her remember what it was. It was lucky to meet someone of his station, especially with all their talk of sliding down banisters and swings. Perhaps they could continue their acquaintanceship beyond this evening..though if it meant Lord Weston coming to Tynthesfield it would be best to enjoy their conversation while it lasted.

His question had her tilting her head. It would be utterly scandalous, if she went out alone with a man..but she’d already been scandalous by going through the crowd, hand in hand and sliding down a banister. Florence nodded. “Yes, that would be lovely,” she decided. Best to enjoy his company now, when it could be done freely for who was to say that she was Florence Talbot anyway?  “Surely, there must a marvelous tree, yes?” Behind her mask, her blue eyes sparkled with delight, already taking a step in the direction of the garden. Perhaps for just one night, she could be brave as Alastair had suggested.

He offered her his arm, and walked towards the garden, delighted that she'd taken him up on his offer. Though as they walked, he realised tree climbing was just another flamboyant activity, a grand gesture. A wonderful way to bond, to filter out the fun from the dull, but not the best way to get to know someone. He wanted to see past the mask, past her sparkling eyes even, and see what lay inside.

"Oh yes, there must be at least one good tree. They could hardly call it a garden without one good tree." They had reached the doors now, leaving the crowds and the music behind them once more. "Though I'm sure not nearly as many marvellous trees as you must have in the country. Do you miss it, the country, when you're in town? Or are you someone who lives for the season?" It was perhaps the kind of small talk he usually despised, the kind that seemed empty and repetitive and general enough that you could ask it to anyone and get a similar response, and yet, this time, he found himself genuinely wanting to know her answer, to know all the details of her mind.

[scandalous-heart]

brevityandoldbeliefs​:

The joke was witty enough (almost enough to tickle a laugh) but Cynthia controlled herself and only raised an eyebrow. “Come inside then. And while you reside under our roofs and drink from our fruits perhaps consider to also follow our rules.” 

The tea room was small but the door opened wide to the garden and so one could settle comfortably there. “Lemonade, two. No. Four. I believe my sister and her friend will join us in a moment.” They could not see the great fields surrounding St Maur castle from here but Cynthia had seen Father Valentin and Lady Celandine perk up earlier on and she knew at least her sister to be rather curious. She would be here soon. And Cynthia could only hope for it. She had no muse to entertain this man for longer than half an hour. His choice of word only emphasised that feeling. “I doubt the Prince would be rather confused by the idea of having been “snagged” by anyone. But yes. Prince Alexander has discovered interest in my sister and so he is coming to stay tomorrow. He will stay a month. And naturally we don’t expect him to leave alone at the end of it.”

Her eyebrows rose even higher. Quite brusquely she was reminded of Lady Florence and the conversation they had had in this very tea room. “Fairford? And why are you not staying at Tynthesfield? If that is why you came?” It was her way of asking about Florence. And this was her way of slighting the young girl: “Or do you fear you would not survive in there without your valet?” 

"You're a big fan of rules?" He asked in a casual manner. Though he thought he had a pretty good idea of Hyacinth's temperament, it was always good to get a lay of the land. He very carefully did not agree or refuse to follow the rules, though it was more habit than any conscious choice.

Abby followed Hyacinth dutifully and settled down in the tea room. He could not hide the shock on his face when she revealed that the Prince was not coming for herself, but for her sister. "Dinah?" He asked, incredulously. It was not that he didn't think Dinah wasn't a worthy bride, but simply that he had not thought her particularly fussed about ranks and titles. He had also assumed Lady Hyacinth would insist on marrying first and marrying best. If there was a Prince up for offer, he'd figured she'd be first in line. "So it's love?" He asked, the shock melting into a genuine smile. "True love?" For what else could it be?

He was knocked off balance a little, that she might guess his reason for coming so quickly and with so little information from him. He knew gossip travelled quickly, but there was hardly anything to talk of yet! He hadn't imagined it could have grown wings and beat him here. Unless... "I'll be visiting Tynthesfield as well, of course. But... well it's a delicate business isn't it? I thought perhaps I'd take a softer approach than I usually do." He smirked a little, aware they were still experiencing the consequences of one of his more typical presumptive entrances. "Say, have you spoken to Lady Florence recently? She hasn't perhaps mentioned me has she?"

[scandalous-heart]

zahir-qureshi​:

♣ ♣ ♣

Zahir did not mean to smile. He was not going to. He had absolutely no intention of doing such a distasteful thing, and yet.. there was the corner of his lips moving, ever so slightly, upwards, and the lines around his eyes betrayed the pleased and smug smile he had been trying to suppress. “It’s the least,” he said, adding even a little ‘tsk’ sound at the end of it, but by then his smile was more than a subtle hint that could only be read by someone who was familiar with his judging face, it was real and a little too easily read. “But I guess it’s more than that from you,” he added, as his own way to say ‘good boy’.

“Would you even know if I was bad at it?” he asked, with a little snort. Sometimes Zahir could not believe Lord Weston was real: the man sounded like the stereotypical scoundrel, the kind of Lothario society loved so much to gossip about. Of course he would have a valet who would only feed him grape and another to move a giant feather to make a breeze. It was utterly ridiculous and impossible, but even as absurd as it sounded he could not completely put it past Abbernath to actually do such a thing.

“I can’t believe you are so bored that you want to know such a thing,” Zahir said, shaking his head. He was quick to offer the next grape to Abbernath’s lips so to silence him a little longer. “What about you, my Lord? What would make you happy?” he asked back, trying to getting out of it without giving a proper answer.

Abby smiled triumphantly at the praise, though it was reluctant and hard-won, he wouldn't have had it any other way. He did not miss Zahir's smile either, though he decided not to comment on it, lest it would fly away when observed.

"Oh yes," he said knowingly. "I've been fed many a grape, and so I know that not all grape feeders are made equally. I feel very well looked after in your capable hands." Zahir was very handsome, he'd love nothing more to sink into his arms, but he felt even the grapes and the belly rub was pushing his luck, he would not expect anymore. Especially not out here on the green for everyone to see. But he could at least let Zahir know how comfortable he felt, and just how competent he thought Zahir was. "I think perhaps you deserved first footman regardless of how you inherited it." Which was not often true to titles handed down to natural successors.

Abby hummed in relaxed contradiction. "Not bored, very content." Abby accepted the next grape, letting his eyes slip shut. Even in the shade it was nice to rest his eyes from the sun. He smirked a little. "The thing that would make me the happiest man on this earth, at this very instant..." He raised an eyebrow although he did not open his eyes "Would be to know what would make you happy." Like a dog, with a bone, he would not let this go.

[scandalous-heart]

brevityandoldbeliefs​:

Cynthia had been introduced to Lord Abbernath at her own Debut, too many years ago, and had properly met him only a few times ever since. Yet she knew what they said about him. She knew it all too well. Dandy, they called him. A flirt, they called him. A frequenter of all too many unspeakable places, too. So she was not at all surprised when he began this encounter with flattery as well. “Not that you are surprised, no,” she replied still smiling coldly. “Have you just arrived? Would you like a refreshment?” She waved the footman towards them and ordered him to bring them some lemonade. 

Her smile grew only colder when he used a rather familiar name for her sister. She knew that this was how Celandine wanted to be addressed and how she introduced herself to others but it was not how Cynthia liked it. “Lady Celandine, for you.” It was after all the name their mother had given her and Cynthia would not have her legacy be stripped away from them by some flirtatious dandy. 

“Did she now?” She had sat down and motioned for Lord Abbernath to do the same. “Then she must have also told you that we are already expecting guests?” Guests who would no doubt occupy the house to its maximum capacity. Not in space of course but in attention they deserved. “Prince Alexander to be precise if you will believe it. You can imagine that we will be very busy and her attention for you would be utterly neglected. Without saying too much he will not come for business matters.” 

Which led her to the next question: “Why have you come?” And as to really drive her point home about not hosting Lord Abbernath she pretended to look out the window and search for valets. “Did you bring anyone?” 

"A refreshment would be lovely." He took a seat across from Hyacinth and relaxed into the chair a little, still admiring the large room. His attention was plucked back to her at the correction. His eyebrows raised, his lips pursed somewhere between a silent 'oop' and a smirk. "I can't imagine you're jealous, are you? You must be on nickname terms with your sister by now as well, surely." It was a playful way of declining the suggestion. Wrapping his tongue around Celandine every time when he knew Dinah hated it anyway was unthinkable. 

"She did not," he replied, but not with embarrassment or disgruntledness, no, Abby was only intrigued. He leaned forward as if to learn more, and was not disappointed. "A Prince! My my!" What had the St Maur's done to earn the attention of a Prince? It was answered a few moments later. Abby inhaled a little excited breath. "You snagged yourself a Prince? How very fairytale. Again, not that I'm surprised." Hyacinth St Maur could have her pick of the lot, and he expected even a King would be powerless to deny her what she wanted. 

Though she was being wonderfully poised, it was clear Hyacinth did not want him here, and he didn't intend to stay where he wasn't wanted. Still, he could have some fun until he had to leave, couldn't he? "No, no, just little old me, I decided to travel light." The truth was there were 4 possible options for where he might stay whilst he was here, and in 3 of them he thought a valet might have been out of place. If he had stayed here at St Maur, he was sure they could have lent him someone. "And without saying too much, I might also have come for matters other than business." He didn't want to get his hopes up, not too much, but he'd be lying if he’d said Florence Talbot wasn't one of his main motivations for coming. "Don't worry about putting me up though, I have a number of other friends in town besides Lady Dinah. I've heard Fairford is very welcoming to guests."

[scandalous-heart]

valentin-talbot​:

When it rang on the door of Fairford House, Valentin was the first to reach it. 

He’d been sitting anxiously amongst the four Foresters presently not in Norrington – Doctor Forester, Zachariah, Samuel and Benny, all discussing the way their lives would continue here on in now that the Factory was in their name – lost in thought. In truth, he should have probably not even been here, but there was hardly any family in England more willing to let him stay in another room with a book as they concerned themselves with ascribing tutors and matriculating their youngest son than the Foresters. And while he was grateful for it because, in return, there was no family in England he felt safer with. Or rather more at ease, while his heart drummed with confusion over what he were to say when this man would show up again, this face he had known he’d seen again but somehow hoped he wouldn’t. Nevertheless, he knew it was odd that he was here. That he hadn’t excused himself the moment he’d heard they were discussing important matters. That he was at the door before even the housekeeper.

And there he stood, once more. Abbernath Weston. Abby. And while Valentin’s mouth gaped with words he lacked, he could not decide if the sunlight added to his handsomeness or took from it. Neither answer helped, and so, at once, he smacked the door back close into his face.

‘Father Val-…’ the housekeeper began surprised, and a moment later, Benny’s voice: ‘Valentin? Who is it?’

Valentin stepped aside, almost as though to press himself into the shadows of the wall and tried a breathy: “The door slipped from my hands. I couldn’t see.” 

-

The door was opened relatively quickly. Perhaps Abby had underestimated Fairdord's staff. Yet upon its opening, he was not greeted by the stuffy face of an old butler, but someone young and beautiful and clearly in shock. "Tiny Tall?" He asked, mouth running ahead of his reasoning. He had never for a moment expected to see him here. At the club again, perhaps there was a chance, or around London at a season event, but there had been nothing at all in his mind linking Tiny Tall to St Maur county, and certainly not to this house.

Before he could figure anything else out, the door was slammed in his face without a word. It seemed someone was very glad to see him. This more than anything confirmed it hadn't been mistaken, it had been Tiny Tall. He hesitated only a moment, before ringing the bell again.

@cescapist​

[scandalous-heart]

zahir-qureshi​:

♣ ♣ ♣

There had been once a dog. A beautiful golden retriever, with fur of a paler gold than Abbernath’s lustrous and silk hair, yet it wriggled in much the same way as the lord was doing now. Belly up, flopping paws that pushed away any reaching hand, and yet, it still wanted nothing more than a belly rub. Zahir had always scowled at the dog, especially when it got in such a display, and yet, slowly, much like Miss Forester had done, the dog had wormed his way in past Zahir’s armour and had gotten what it wanted.

It was thus just a reflex that Zahir’s hand would reach for Abbernath’s belly, resting there as if to make sure he wouldn’t wiggle away and then rubbing that softness in a motion that was meant to be calming, that was meant to say ‘there, there, fine, you are a spoiled boy.’ “Said as someone who has always the luxury to cheat and only worry about the now,” he said, for if his touch was gentle, his words were not. “Even a game has rules, and there is no point in playing if you are going to disregard them. You might as well do anything else.”

He had never been accuse of such a thing. Too good for his own good. Could Abbernath be possibly right? Was it then why he had only reached his new position only when it had been given up by another? He hated the thought, but he was also not happy with Abbernath’s solution. But he could hardly say he would be far happier if Abbernath finally put some effort into something and joined his team, could he now? “You do not know what makes me happy,” he said, instead, a little sully, a little cold, and yet he still took another grape to feed him with.

The hand on his belly was entirely unexpected, but made him hum in contentment. A familiar warmth of company and contact spread through him, more comforting than the heat from the summer sun. Even if it was temporary, even if it was to placate him.

"Mmmm yes, I'm very lucky," he hummed, letting his eyes close, as he relaxed. "Alright alright, I'll try extra hard and work my little butt off being the best cricketer on the pitch, is that better?" He was willing to pliant if it meant being petted.

He peaked an eye open as the next grape was fed to him. "You're very good at this," he mentioned, mouth half occupied by eating the grape and not choking on it. "Tell me what will make you happy then." It was phrased as an order, but it was not one he would enforce. Zahir could keep the secrets to his happiness locked away if he willed it.

[scandalous-heart]

soleil-timide​:

.

Florence beamed as her newfound friend descended, side-saddled as she suggested. There was something entirely endearing about the way he had taken her suggestion into earnest consideration. Florence clapped as he made his way down, giggling softly as he did. Her eyes widened as their bodies collided, and she reached out to steady them both. Her heart did an odd sort of skip as she peered up at him. It was odd, to be holding one another like this. To her surprise, Florence found that she rather enjoyed it.

Under his praise, the youngest Talbot found herself standing a little straighter. It was nice, being praised for countenance that was more than being agreeable. “Florence,” she answered, still a little breathless. “Florence Talbot,” the blonde fairy answered a moment later, her voice a little softer, not necessarily wanting to broadcast her identity. But after their talk of swings, climbing trees, and sliding down bannisters, her friend seemed…safe. Safe in a way the youngest Talbot had never imagined to find in a man. The golden-haired young woman was more than a little enamoured with her companion. “Please, I must ask the same of you!” she added a moment later, no small amount of hope in her eyes. Hope that he would tell her just as much as there was hope that they could perhaps continue to socialize after the evening concluded.

"Florence," he repeated as if clicking a missing puzzle piece into place and basking in the satisfaction of finding it fit perfectly. The Talbot part was more of a surprise, but if anything it only enticed him more. He knew Alastair a little, but he'd always found him exceptionally boring and stiff. The idea that these two could be related so closely was absurd. Though he didn't know why she'd lie. She seemed the inherently honest type, and besides, there were hardly people lining up right now to tie themselves to the Talbot name.

"Abbernath Weston," He replied, with a smile. He usually would not give out his full name, he preferred Abby, but the intention here was not only to let her know his name, but his station too. The truth was he would have remained just as enamoured by her tonight if she'd turned out to be a scullery maid, but to hear she was a peer opened the door to possibilities he could only begin to peek at.

"Would you like to go find a tree?" He asked. Though they were a little above the hubbub here on the stairs, he suddenly felt the openness of the night sky above them would be much more fitting.

[scandalous-heart]

valentin-talbot​:

Valentin was in the St Maur Castle gardens with Dinah when he saw a car drive up and honk with summerly enthusiasm. Curiously, they perked up and left their picnic blanket behind as they approached to see who it could possibly be. Blame it on Valentin’s dwindling eye-sight or the fact that he had met the visitor only once in a dim club, but Dinah recognised him before he could: “But-! That’s Lord Abbernath Weston, isn’t it?” While Valentin only brought out a breathy: “Abby,” a moment later. 

Stumbling back into the picnic blanket, he declined the offer to go greet him, babbling something about packing up and bringing the leftovers to Town, and a moment later he was indeed scrambling away with basket, blanket and two cups of dripping tea cups dangling from his arms. Were he someone who cursed, he would’ve cursed quite a lot then. 

“Charity,” he told the housekeeper of Fairford House as he pushed the basket into her arms and stumbled inside. Why exactly he had come here he didn’t quite know. Maybe to … warn? Benny? Either way, the moment he caught sight of him, the news sat too heavy in his mouth anyway and he could not quite bring them out. Maybe because he thought he might be mistaken? Maybe because he hoped he was mistaken? Maybe because Benny had no idea that he knew Abby – Lord Abbernath Weston, gosh! – and why did it matter anyway, were it not for the fact that Abby and he-… 

So he was simply asked to join the tea room and let the conversation slip away from him to the plethora of updates the Foresters were now daily bringing forth. It distracted him well, but not well enough to completely eradicate the thought that, oh gosh, Abby was in St Maur. 

~

After soaking up the St Maur hospitality, his next stop was Fairford. He wanted to let Benny know he was in town as soon as possible so they might plan some escapades. He trusted Benny, who had spoken so fondly of his home town, could show him the merits of the countryside like no other. If he was going to spend some time admiring trees and hills, he at least wanted to do it through Benny's eyes.

His approach to Fairford was less obnoxious, no honking horn or exclamations, though the car still made a rumble. He hopped out and approached the entrance. He could already see the charm in this smaller house. He was hoping his admission would be far more relaxed than the welcome he'd received at the castle. Though someone to take his coat and hat would still be nice.

He rang the bell and awaited its answer.

[scandalous-heart]

brevityandoldbeliefs​:

A moment after the insultingly quacking noise of a car honk bellowed through the peaceful afternoon air Cynthia’s lady’s maid came burst into her room to inform her of a guest. “I had no chance to miss it.” she snapped with irritation and rose from her vanity. 

It was fortunate for the guest that she had just been dressed for tea, her soft rose silk robe d’après midi with the delicate beige lace enveloping her with an air of gracious grandeur despite the firery steps she took to descend the staircase. The footman who had bid the noisy guest to the library now stood anxiously by its door. “Abbernath Weston, your ladyship,”  he said handing her his card. 

The name alone sent shivers down her spine. Yet she entered the library with a smile of unmatched perfection. “Lord Weston,” she said as she approached him to lend him her hand for a kiss, “what a surprise to find you here. May we learn why the pleasant disturbance?” She knew how to lay her words to spite and yet be secured against accusations of insult. 

~

It seems he had upset the servants a little. They didn't like being caught on the back foot. They liked to know when their guests were arriving. Though it did fill him with some glee to see the small amount of chaos he was causing, he was not completely unsympathetic, and he didn't want to get any of them in actual trouble. So when he realised they were subtly trying to stall him, he allowed it graciously. It was a great talent, to make someone feel they weren't being made to wait, when they were in fact, being made to wait.

And Zahir Qureshi had talent by the bucket load. Abby made sure to give him a wink, and admire his uniform (very fetching), and inquire how the new position was going. Zahir replied for the most part in monosyllables, remaining valiantly professional. When he was eventually escorted to the library, Abby made sure to give him a parting tap on the bum and a little tip for his efforts. Part of him hoped the money would frustrate Zahir even more, but Abby was sure he'd put it to good use.

He was admiring the view from one of the windows when his host entered. He turned, grin already in place. It was not the St Maur he was expecting, but he could make lemonade out of lemons. He was on holiday!

"Lady Hyacinth!" He greeted, throwing his arms wide in an open and celebratory greeting. "You look divine." He leant forward and kissed the offered hand. "Oftentimes when I drop in unannounced I'm greeted by people hastily thrown into clothes, hair all askew, panicked expressions." He made a few mimes to illustrate his points. "But you are the very picture of grace, even when not expecting guests. Not that I'm surprised." It was a compliment, it really was, but it was a playful one, accompanied by a smirk. It might have been fun to see the grand and sophisticated Lady Hyacinth all disgruntled, but really, he should have known it wasn't ever a possibility.

"I came to surprise Lady Dinah actually." He might have dropped the Lady if it were just him and Dinah, but something told him Cynthia would probably be a stickler for these things, and he didn't really want to see how far he could push her courtesy. He wasn't here to make enemies after all. "London was getting rather lonely with everyone returned to respective country dwellings, and then I remembered Lady Dinah had left an open invitation to visit her after the season had ended, so I thought, why not surprise her, get out of the city for a little while, see what the country has to offer."

[scandalous-heart]

valentin-talbot​:

In truth, Valentin had not actually been sure whether Abby did these things, whether he simply didn’t call them ‘small gestures’ and actually categorised into some of those things he had told Valentin he did. To see him now, looking almost like the young Meir children back at St Maur when they were sent to The Parish by their mother to tell Valentin what naughty things they had done and he then had to tell them why their mother thought it naughty. As glamorous and as fun as Abby was, this was the first time tonight that Valentin was actually a little fond of him. “I wouldn’t,” he replied, honestly, clarifying that it was a rather subjective thing that couldn’t be generalised. “I suppose it depends on which kind of people you want for which kind of reason. Clearly, the people you enjoyed spending your time with until now were perfectly enamoured by what you brought to them, and so I don’t think there was any fault in it whatsoever. But if you wish to meet different kind of people, perhaps people who wish to love a little deeper, a little longer, or a little more earnestly,” he added the ‘a little’ each time because he needed to emphasise that he did not think that what Abby had previously experienced hadn’t been a form of love at all, “then perhaps you might want to change what you bring to them also. And for that, yes, I think, maybe little gestures would be enough. Could … make it last.” 

Valentin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been called Smarty Pants, and in return, he too had too laugh a little – covering it quickly with his hand, of course. “A lake frozen over,” he nodded. He liked that. He supposed it was similar to him and his colours. And then Abby said the next thing, and once again, this tiny voiceless laugh of his broke out of him. “I should, shouldn’t I?” he said, and while he had absolutely no intention of ever meeting Abby again, he did think it would be frightfully hilarious if ever he were to come to St Maur. “You’re a downright tease! Be quiet now and take me back to the dance floor.” 

*

Abby nodded, as if something had been decided. He wasn't exactly sure what. Perhaps he'd wake up tomorrow and scoff at all the wisdom Tiny Tall had imparted to him. Or perhaps he'd go to church. He did want the deeper and the longer and the more earnest. To do less seemed counter-intuitive. But it wasn't less, not really, it was just looking closer, personalising the gestures, not these one size fits all grand sweeping actions. Consistent and careful, rather than fireworks. "I shall take it all into consideration." It was the most earnest promise he could make whilst still doubting himself. 

He felt the relief bodily when he was able to make Tiny Tall laugh and the serious scrutiny floated away. "You should!" He insisted again, grinning genuinely now. And then a cackle of carefree laughter as Tiny Tall called him a tease. He stifled it by miming locking his lips and tucking the imaginary key into a pocket. Then he took Tiny Tall's hand and pulled him back towards the music.

END

[scandalous-heart]

Summer Holiday

Date: 30th of July, 1904 Place: St Maur Status: Open

Abbernath Weston had never enjoyed the country, yet he could admit there was a freedom to be found in zooming along the winding countryroads behind the wheel of his car. He’d admit it after he’d complained about all the bruising he’d have from being jostled to his core by the uneven surfaces, and after his heart had retreated from his mouth after meeting another vehicle coming in the opposite direction and nowhere to veer but a hedge or a ditch.

Still, freedom, perhaps that what he was seeking. Or just good company. The summer season had dried up in London, and all his new friends had disappeared back to whence they’d come. He had found himself suddenly and unexpectedly quite alone and missing them. All of them.

What good fortune then, that so many of them hailed from the same little town of St Maur.

He had not informed anyone of his visit. He’d simply packed his bag and hopped in the car as soon as the boredom and lonliness had become to much to bear. Now he was pulling up a driveway, a house looming before him.

He honked the horn as he pulled up, loud and obnoxious and far too many times to be considered polite. “Hello! I’m here! I’ve come to rescue you from the tedium of country living!” He called, and he lept from the driver’s seat.

[scandalous-heart]

valentin-talbot​:

He nodded. 

“Oh, you know…” Valentin said, trailing off quickly. How was he supposed to explain small gestures to someone who was so  familiar with the big gestures? They’d feel silly, at best.  “Like observing the other person and acting on the wishes they did not utter yet.” A little shrug. “Like … taking their bag from them when it looks heavy, or running an errand for them when they don’t feel like getting out of bed. Small because-… Because they’re not inherently romantic. They’re not meant to woo or dazzle. They just exist for the other person and their small happiness.”

Fair enough, Valentin wanted to say, as maybe Abby was right. Maybe, the act of looking inside did make you deep, and the lack of it left you shallow. Fair enough. But then that very last bit of his speech came, and Valentin blinked. “I’ve done a lot of algebra in my life, and I enjoyed none of it, so I prefer not to do it in my day-to-day life. But that does not mean that I am someone who cannot count.” 

Abby's gaze lowered as Tiny Tall talked, eyes trained on his hands, his fingers intertwined and fidgetting, not nervously, but perhaps, ashamed? Although his head was bowed, a small bittersweet smile was just visible. "Well, that sounds perfect." His voice was a little raspy. "Sounds to me like the world should run on small gestures alone." Forget coal or gas or money. It made him feel foolish, thinking that big showy shiny gestures could replace things like this. "And it's enough? People don't get bored? They- that's how you make it last?"

Tiny Tall's observation about algebra broke him out of his sadness a little. He snorted. "Alright Mr Smarty Pants, good point." He disentangled his fingers and forced himself back into a relaxed pose. "I suppose I'm not as shallow as you hypothesised then. I'm more a lake frozen over." Not a puddle, there was a depth, he'd just decided there was no benefit to accessing it.

"You should charge for these services, all this deep self discerning stuff. You'd make a killing, making people realise things they didn't want to realise." He grinned once more, he did not like being sad for long, and even more than that did not like people knowing he was sad. "And with all those hard-won, enviable, boastable, math skills, you could even balance your own books."

[scandalous-heart]

zahir-qureshi​:

♣ ♣ ♣

Would Zahir really forsake Miss Forester only for knowing Abbernath Weston? Oh, part of him wished it would be so easy. It would help him get rid of this ridiculous infatuation he held for her. Shifting with a nervous, almost uncomfortable energy, he didn’t reply. Instead, he picked up one of the grape, cleaned against the sleeve of his shirt—that he was careful, even in the summer heat, to never roll up over half his forearm—and fed him to Abbernath.

“Right, my Lord, I should not think that you care,” he said, with a meanness in his tone that was just akin to a bite. His expression stayed harsh, judging, but it was not indifferent at least. His sharp gaze went to look at Abbernath, taking in the little pout on the man’s face and grimacing at it like a grumpy cat having to acknowledge they were wrong about something. Especially because he believed Abbernath when he said he wanted the Lords’ team to lose. “Not everyone is afraid of hard work as you are. It’s not always just about the end result, the goal.. it is also how you achieve it,” Zahir explained, sounding offended by Abbernath’s opinions so far. “We can win this game by using your cheap tricks, but what about the next one and the one after? What about our pride? Yes, we can win today thanks to you playing the bumbling fool.. but how is that not another example of a Lord making up different rules, only for once we benefit from them.. to your pleasure, for your pleasure. Because today, this is what you are in the mood for.. with no regard for the future. Seeking only cheap and quick thrills that will leave you just as bored as before,” he said, and immediately hating how he sounded like Ira. But he was annoyed with Abbernath’s… Abbernath.

Abby accepted the grape, eyes wide with surprised glee. He chomped it joyfully, it tasted all the sweeter for the way it had been delivered.

"Mm well, you've got me there." It was almost like his fear of hard work included not having to put effort into thinking or arguing about this either.  

"I don't know, I don't know," Abby wiggled like a toddler having a tantrum and almost swatted Zahir in frustration. His accusations were hitting a little too close to home. "Why can't it just be fun! Why does it have to be work? It's literally a game." He implored his morally upright companion. "Why must it always be about next time? Why can't it just be about now?" If he sounded whiney it was only because Zahir was sounding far to reasonable. "You could cheat next time too! That's how the people on top stay there anyway. Just cheat everytime. Take the shortcuts, get there first."

He flopped back down into the grass. "You're too good for your own good." He sighed, and looked up at the footman. "People will take advantage of that, so you should take advantage of them in return. Take advantage of me being a lazy fop, and I'll take advantage of being a hardworking cricketer. Everyone ends up happy." He opened his mouth and tapped his lips, awaiting another grape.

[scandalous-heart]

soleil-timide​:

.

“Really! Oh, but that would be tremendously exciting!” It would require them to reveal themselves to one another, but Florence felt safe with her gentleman friend. He was so amenable, surely he wouldn’t mind the addition of a chaperone of some kind any more than he’d tell the world that she hadn’t been perfectly ladylike. And surely Valentin would be willing to indulge in such an exercise. At any rate, that would be something to think on later, after they both had their fun. His excitement was quite catching, and even as she looked over the edge of the railing, it didn’t seem all that high.

“Oh yes, I think you should!” Florence exclaimed. “We can both try something new, wouldn’t it be marvelous?” Reassured that she wouldn’t be the only one, the youngest Talbot got herself settled on the bannister, ready to slide down. She turned to give her new friend a shy smile and a nod. “Then I shall see you at the bottom,” Florence offered, before allowing herself to descend. Going backwards was different, and not knowing what was happening behind her was nerve-wracking.  It was worth it, to feel the familiar leap of her heard as she slid down. The air rushed passed her, and there could be no stopping the joyous laughter spilling from her lips. It was the most freeing sensation, one she hadn’t realized she had missed. All too soon, it was over and she had reached her desperation. Florence hopped off and took a step back to give her friend room, then looked up expectantly to see if indeed he would be following after her. 

His trousered accomplice began her descent and he waved at her as she slid, quite speedily, down the railing. Her laughter, unstoppable as it was, made him laugh too. It was joy without restraint and he fell in love a little bit in that moment.

When she reached the bottom and disembarked, he took his own seat. Side saddle was quite daunting! He felt at any moment that he might lose his balance and fall backwards and splatter on the floor below. Girls were far braver than he gave them credit for. He wouldn't back out now though, not with her looking up at him in that way. He pushed off, and started to slide, a little more cautiously than she had. It was still the most carefree kind of fun though. The laughter bubbled out of him again. When he reached the end he tried to hop off, perhaps to try and impress her, and though he managed it, he did collide with her slightly.

He fumbled round and took hold of her to steady himself, teetering on the edge of a step before finding his balance. He grinned, exhilarated. "That was astounding! You're astounding!" Again he might have kissed her, thrilled and breathless, but he felt if he wanted this to continue, he should withhold. And he did, he did want this to continue. "What's your name?" He asked instead.