A Victorian Romance

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by LadyHarpy, Apr 10, 2011.

  1. "Curse this rainy season..." Margaret murmured to herself as she looked out of her bedroom window.

    It was pouring rain as if heavens planned to flood the earth completely, and that meant that the house was completely on lock down, though it was mostly for her. Her parents didn't like her to get dirty, in fact, they didn't like her to do anything at all. They wanted their only daughter and child to be as clean and lovely as possible for all the suitors who were making house calls. If only she was not of age, at least she could lock herself away in the library for the whole day without the worry of angering her parents to much. However, being of age came with responcibilities...like meeting every suitor that came to her door.

    It seemed to be a never ending parade to her, it was just one man after another, some young and old, and some who could possibly be her grandfather. It didn't matter though, her parents would welcome them in and push her next to them, forcing her to speak. It took all of her will not to scream and run out of the room and hide away, especially since if she did there would be a beating to follow the next day.

    Today was no different, yet another meeting was planned and they would be arriving soon in their carriage. Mother had emphasized how important this suitor was by buying her a new dress and even threatening to lock the library if she was not polite. It killed Margaret to even think of not being able to hide away in her books so she had no choice but to be more civil than usual...damn her cunning mother.

    Just then a carriage came into view through the thick mist of the rain, signaling that they were here. A sigh slipped past Margarets lips as she moved away from her window and finished preparing herself. She adjusted the lace of her pale green dress and fixed her hair into a high ponytail on her head, allowing her think black curls to hang down her back. She looked at herself in the mirror, touching up her makeup and checking her dark complexsion that she had gotten from her father. She was lovely to say the least, but her loveliness would only go skin deep today, unless this suitor turned out to be much more charming than the others before him.

    And honestly, Margaret wouldn't mind that much at all.
     
  2. A particularly handsome young man was stepping out of the carriage just then, where Lady Margaret could see him clearly if she'd cared to. He didn't -want- to be here, lovely though this house was, and very welcoming these people were. But his father happened to be in the carriage with him, and if he ran now, he'd only be dragged back later and tortured horribly. He wished he -could- just run from home and live in the woods somewhere, or buy a cottage in the middle of nowhere, undisturbed for the rest of his life. His lightning-blue-grey eyes looked particularly clouded this afternoon, but his midnight hair was combed back and neat. He'd be polite throughout the entire day, if not a little........ tense. The vibes he got off the Lady's parents weren't exactly comforting-parent-vibes. They seemed more like his own, to tell the truth. He had to wonder to himself if all children grew up with abusive parents. "I'm pleased to meet you both. Is your daughter home?" He asked, smiling.
     
  3. Margaret wandered out of her room just as a maid answered the door and her mother's shrill and loud voice filled the halls. It seemed that her mother already had her game face on. She walked down the stairs slowly, hoping to delay the unavoidable meeting for as long as possible. As she took her time she could hear her mother going on about how nice and mature he looked while sending flattering compliments to the man's father, who was apparently here as well. When she came into view on the stair well she could hear her mother speaking to her.

    "Oh there you are Margaret! I thought you were in the library studying again. She's quite an educated young lady Mr. Mitchell, I'm sure you'll both have much to talk about since I've heard you were quite the student." Her mother rattled on as she nearly dragged her over to the young man. "Margaret, this is Brendon Mitchell, he is Count Mitchell's son."

    To say that Margaret was surprised would be an understatement, she did not expect for her suitor to be so...Attractive. Most of her suitors had been either young and lanky, lacking any muscle at all, or where old and stout, making her wonder how they even fit into their clothing. To actually meet one that was easy on the eyes threw her off a bit. She didn't let it show though, no she kept her face calm and cool, like she had done for so many others. She curtsied politely, her pale green dress pooling out more as she did.

    "It is a pleasure, Mr. Mitchell." She said lightly as she looked up at him, her brown eyes looking into his blue ones before she looked away.

    At that time her mother moved over to her father and hooked her arm in his.

    "Well then, let's head to the parlor and have a seat, I had tea and biscuts prepared." She said as she leaned the way to the parlor, Margaret quietly falling into step behind them.
     
  4. He managed a polite smile as his arm was threaded with Margaret's but he didn't mind. She felt warm, compared to his constant cold temperatures. He sat down on the sofa, letting the lady sit first. The tea and biscuits were probably all he'd eat today, or tomorrow for that matter, so of course he was polite with how many he ate.

    "Lady Margaret, I -have- heard of your brilliance in school. Did you have any favorite subjects?" He asked, sipping his tea and thanking his hosts. With a little of his mood-setting ability, he transferred some of his calm throughout the house, clearing away tensions and sadness. He sensed quite a few emotions from Lady Margaret, though he didn't impose on her privacy. He was gifted in several talents his family hated him for, so he kept trying to hide them. But, in the end, he ended up giving a few of them away without actually trying to!

    Needless to say his mother's favorite nickname for him was the Devil Spawn, while his father just preferred 'hopeless freak'. Ah yes, life was good and..... bleak. But he did hope to at least lighten Margaret's mood. It was the least he could do for troubling her with a probably unwanted visit. He couldn't help however, admiring the girl's great beauty. It truly was as renowned as his friends had said. But unlike most people, Brendon never really went by looks. Yet he somehow sensed this girl was nice, if not a little ....trapped by situations she didn't want.
     
  5. Margaret allowed him to lead her to the parlor for tea, knowing that her mother would be angry if she didn't. She sat quietly on the soft while the parents sat in a circle of chairs. As she grabbed her tea she could tell that the conversations her mother was having with Brendon's father and her own was in no way allowing her or Brendon to enter their two cents, leaving them to talk amonst themselves...damn her mother. She looked to Brendon quietly for a moment before she started to speak softly.

    "I enjoyed studying Greek Mythology as well and Shakespeare's Plays..." She said truthfully.

    She didn't really know why but she felt...calmer near Brendon, as if and tension that she had before had just melted away. Whether it was relief at her situation or that fact that her body had just given up on being tense she did not know or question. It was nice to finally lossen up a bit for once. She turned to him a little more as she held onto her teacup lightly, since her mother had offically cut the two of them out of the conversation between the adults.

    "What about you Mr. Mitchell, Did you have a favorite subject?" She asked softly, her expression still calm and cool.
     
  6. He smiled at her. "I preferred History, English Literature.. and art." He admitted with a smile. He'd aced all his other subjects yes, but he wasn't sure if it was appropriate here to even bring up his -side studies- of the Arcane, spells, magic, or unusual creatures. He was fond of Alester Crowley's books, and had several hidden under a loose floor board under his bed, along with his art work that nobody would support in his family.. He was definitely a man of many secrets. On the back of his palms were strange scars, pale and thin over time, but both scars looked like they were in the shapes of crosses burned into them.

    "I do remember escaping class quite often though. I admit I was a bit of a trouble maker earlier in my youth." He confessed, casually. He had always liked being out doors rather than shut up for hours on end with personal tutors, far away boarding schools, or just general public ones.

    He didn't know if he was boring her or not. Hopefully not, but there was little of interesting discussions they could find whilst the parents were monitoring them so closely. He knew what time he had to go back to the carriage: Exactly at 4 p.m. He was glad at least it was only 2:30. He'd enjoy as much as possible of Margaret's company, if she allowed it.
     
  7. "I see..." She said as she took a small sip of her tea.

    She glanced back at her mother who quickly looked to her father, they were being watched far to closely for Margaret's liking. The monitoring was really keeping their conversation from getting anywhere, her mother would yell at her if she talked about anything that made her look unfeminine. She was having a bit of trouble coming up with things to say while her parents watched so intensely. She wasn't sure if she could say anything that her parent's would like at all. She bit back an inrritated sigh as she set her teacup down gently and looked back to him once more.

    "So English Literatre? Do you have a favorite author?" She questioned, knowing that this would be a long visit if she didn't figure out a away to get out of the parent's prying eyes.
     
  8. "I'd honestly have to say my favorite literature would be by George Elliot, Emily Bronte' and most of the classics." Suddenly he winked at Margaret and nodded his head -just ever so slightly- towards the beautiful gardens outside. Their best chance of talking alone would probably be out there... if she'd ask to give him a tour of the place, that would simplify their 'constantly monitored' problem. And he at the same time would be able to suggest to their brains they didn't need to accompany them on the tour.
     
  9. Margaret caught is suggestion and for a moment was a little surprised, then again he probably felt as uncomfortable under their parents gazes as she did. She glanced to the gardens and noticed that the rain had stopped, meaning that she and Mr. Mitchell could easily escape under the impression of intellectual conversation. Margaret politely cleared her throat as she looked to her mother.

    "Mother, may I show Mr. Mitchell the gardens? We were just getting into the subjest of botanical life and function and I though that this would be a lovely time to show off your award winning roses." Margaret said smoothly, giving her mother a look that her mother seemed to take quite well.

    "Oh but dear, the garden's must be soaked after such a strong rain..." He mother said worriedly, it seeming that she was debating if she could afford to let her daughter walk around in mud for the sake of catching a suitors eye.
     
  10. "I'm certain we won't be there long... and I'll bring a towel along to dry off a bench for us to sit on. I promise it'll be alright. " He passed other suggestions in their brains like 'being nicer to their daughter... and- that he was a perfect gentleman to be alone with, which he was!' Hopefully they would cave in soon. If not, the two of them would be stuck through a 'pleasant' afternoon surrounded by nosy parents. He also wanted to talk to Margaret in privacy. He could tell there was a lot more to her than met the eye, and she was just interesting to tell the truth.
     
  11. Mother seemed to think for a moment longer before a smile spread on her face.

    "Alright, but don't be to long dear, Mr. Mitchell has other arrangements according to his father." She said as she shooed them off with teh wave of her hand.

    Margaret, politely wrapped her arm around his and started to walk toward the door, exiting the room as quickly as she could. When they were out of ear shot Margaret let out a sigh of relief, though it was rather small. She let her arm slipp from his as she walked a bit quicker toward the gardens.

    "Hurry up, We need to get to the gardens before Mother has a chance to change her mind..." She said quickly as she headed to a pair of french door that lead outside and into the lush gardens of the mansion.
     
  12. Brendon smiled as his ideas worked perfectly along with his silent suggestions. "Right behind you," He assured her, keeping up with surprising speed from the tall too-skinny young man. He found the garden's bench and instantly dried it off with his cape, placing it over the cold stone so Margaret could sit down comfortably. "Now then... was something more of interest on your mind that you wanted to ask me?" He wondered, gazing at the beautiful roses which seemed to thrive after that rainstorm. The air was cool, and refreshing. The sky was still cloudy and overcast, but he preferred rainy weather along with fog, to bright blinding sunlight that often hurt his eyes.~
     
  13. Margaret sat down greatfully, glad to be out of the house and in the open fresh air, even if it was overast and a little gloomy. She looked over the roses quietly for a moment as she sat next to him, having gone silent with thought.

    "Not really...I just hated being gawked at like some animal in the zoo." She said softly as she glanced to him out of the corner of her eye. "Though I was quite surprised that you were the one to suggest it first, something tells me you are quite accustomed to being stared at my young girls parents."

    She looked back to the roses quietly as she waited for his answer, seeming a bit more relaxed while out of her parent watchful eye.
     
  14. Brendon chuckled at this remark. "I'm used to being stared at, it's true." He admitted. "But then, that's probably why I tend to avoid as much of the social gatherings as possible, and hide out when I can." He shrugged ruefully, gazing at the overcast sky. "So, do your parents hold parties often?" He knew their time was about over for the day. It was already a little past 3! His father was probably still in the carriage reading the newspaper. Dear God, but he didn't want to go back home. . .

    He'd much rather stay with Margaret to be honest. She so far, was the calmest female he'd ever met. It was refreshing how she didn't swoon over his title, or good looks. She was a delight to talk to.
     
  15. Margaret looked at him and gave her shoulders a light shrug, it wasn't a very lady-like thing to do but her paretns weren't watching so she honestly did not care.

    "My parents have many tea parties and dinner parties, It's how they get me out while keeping me in." She said softly before she looked back to the flowers. "However, I do get out on occasion, though it's usually only for balls. What about your parents? They should be holding many parties considering their titles."

    Margaret had to admit that this was the calmest and most relaxing tea time she had ever had. Brendon was pushing her or making her uncomfortable at all. She wished more men were like him, at least in manners, for there certainly couldn't be another with a face as pretty as his. The smallest of smiles came to her lips, though it was barely there.

    "Actually, now that we are on the subject of parties I believe my mother is holding a garden party in two weeks to show off her roses. If my mother doesn't invite you at the end of tea then I do, for I do not think I could last the whole party while she rattles on about her flowers."
     
  16. "I'm certain my parents are scheming up party plans soon. They love to show me off as their 'brilliant son' to the public." he smiled a bit sardonically. "As for a garden party... I think I would be glad to go. I take every chance I can to be out in the fresh air, even if it means groups of people are around. So fear not, I'd gladly accept the invitation for the party. And once I hear my parents plotting a grand house party, I will certainly invite you at once....ah, time does fly when having fun. I must get back to the carriage, Lady Margaret. I hope you had as good of a meeting today as I certainly did." He dreaded going back to that waiting carriage, where he knew his father was probably checking his watch every few minutes. "I thank you again, Lady Margaret, for being such good company. And I thank your parents, who are just now out of their confused state and about to look for you, tell them I had to depart early, for father -is- an impatient man. But thank them for their hospitality of the day." With that, Brendon tipped his black hat, and -winked- almost with an onery gleam in his eyes, before he stood up to his feet in a graceful movement, took his cape after helping Margaret to her own feet, then walked back with squared shoulders and a much grimmer expression on his face as he returned to the carriage. His father barely glanced up from his newspaper. "Well? How was she?" Mitchell asked in a gruff voice. "Lovely. But her parents might not approve. I'm not certain. Hard to tell in one day." His father scowled. "If you had gone -earlier- in the week as I told you to, I'm sure both of you would be great friends by now. For god's sake Brendon, you could charm any woman to do anything I'll grant that. But sometimes you're so slow on the uptake, I wonder if you're not half-retarded. Home, now Tony." Brendon risked his father's further displeasure, and waved to Margaret, glad the carriage door was sound proof and she hadn't heard any of this. "If I'm retarded, father..it must run in the family..." He replied, going back to watching the window as the horses trotted back towards their manor. All in all, it had been one of his better days!
     
  17. Margaret rose to her feet as he helped her and smiled a little more, not being able to stop herself.

    "I must admit this meeting was much more enjoyable than others before it and I am glad you had a good time as well. I hope you can visit again without being in such a rush because of your father, and hopefully we won't be gawked at again like today." She said as she walked with him back toward the house and the carriage.

    As he left, her parents joined her on the steps of the mansion, waving politely to the carriage until it was out of site.She was then quickly rushed in and cornered by her mother, her expression a bit vicious.

    "What happened? What do you think? Margaret if you say what you've said for the past 20 men I'll-"

    Margaret hushed her mother with by placing a finger on her lips, the gesture unlady-like in everyway. Her mother didn't seem to mind though since Margaret had responded in a way that could only make her happy.

    "I will tell you at dinner mother...But my I ask if you have sent all the invitations to your garden party? I believe I have a guest I would like to add to the list..."
     
  18. Once given a sound thrashing by his father, screamed at and insulted by his mother, Brendon was all too glad to lock himself in his room for the night, pondering on how to just -escape- this hell hole permanently. He wouldn't impose on the lady he just met, her sweet words still hung in his mind however, and he really did look forward to seeing her again, though not at all for the same reasons his parents wanted him to like her for. She had all the beauty one could ask for, yet clearly she had her own thoughts and opinions, something rare in most females he'd met, who reminded him so much of sheep, literally blathering so much about the weather, or the latest female fashions, he could only politely listen and try not to nod off in silence. Admittedly, he was a sharp dresser, very perfectionist with his suits, ties, capes, even his tunics and casual leggings were ironed out. But give him the chance and he could drive his parents -mad- with sloppy-careless dressing! It was something he did occasionally, just to annoy them. Half the things he did anymore were in vain hopes of them kicking him out of their house. But by doing this, he'd inherit nothing. Though that might be alright with him too, honestly. He had many skills people would hire him for at a high price. Still, that would only be a last resort sort of idea. For now he had comforting thoughts of Margaret to get him through his day.

    Later during dinner, he casually questioned his parents if they were holding any parties soon, but they said they would more likely be going away for a few months for business reasons. Silently Brendon was relieved. Oh that's excellent. . .the house to myself for a change! He tried not to show how happy he was that they were giving him space. Or trying not to imagine any mishaps that would get them stuck wherever they were going for awhile longer.
     
  19. Though Margaret's words had pleased her mother greatly, her unlady-like gesutre was punished with a heavy slap to her face, a beating that was much lighter than what she was usually given after saying she disliked a possible suitor. She let it roll off of her though, reacting would only prevoke more hitting and leave her with marks that would become difficult to hide. For the rest of the day she locked herself away in the library while her parents ploted and planned ways for her to insnare Mr. Mitchell. While she was hiding away She took the liberty to write an invitation to him for the party, just to make sure ther he would come no matter what. Her mother was know to "forget things" she didn't like conviently. After the invitation she started to write a letter to her Gran, the only family member she could tell the complete truth.

    Her Gran, the mother of her mother, was an elderly but also extremly wealthy woman who was not of nobility but gained her fortune through opening many popular and prosperous manner schools. Her Gran was the first to learn of the beatings, after noticeing a covered bruse when Margaret came for tea one day. However, she could not speak against her daughter, knowing very well that she could be cut off from visiting her granddaughter if she did. Margaret began to write about the meeting and Mr. Mitchell, hoping that her Gran would give her a little advice on how to deal with him. She wasn't sure about going after him yet but she felt that she could at least give friendship a try, at least this way her parents would think she was doing that they wanted without her really having too.

    When dinner time came Margaret spoke only when spoken to and answered quickly and shortly while her parents lectured her on how to behave around Mr. Mitchell from now on. She would have to be a flirt when mother and father were looking but that was alright, if he was as she thought he was then he would be smart and play along for both of their sakes. Dinner eventually ended and Margaret headed to be, planning on sending the invitation tomorrow along with the others and looking into getting a new dress for the party, one has to look their best when deciving their parents after all.
     
  20. Brendon was relieved when it was time for Lady Margaret's Family Garden Party. He was very happy when his parents left just the night before, and had all day to himself to prepare. He had a relaxing bath, then changed into his most becoming clothes for a party: A fancy tuxedo,long dark pants, a silk dark green tie, his black cape, and he even left without his hat, though he did bring a flask full of water. He got a ride from the carriage driver, and told Tony when to pick him up that evening. But for now, he showed his invitation to the hostess, thanked her again, and went to find where Margaret was standing. This house still had a slightly unusual feeling in it, but once again, the feeling left as he wandered through the living room, then back out to the garden..hopefully he'd find where Margaret was soon, he was anxious about seeing her. Hopefully he hadn't made her any bad impressions before he left! So far the party hadn't yet gotten underway..~