Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
"Ah..." Waving a hand, which she had wisely clad in a lace glove, Georgiana smile delicately at his greeting, "Please. Georgiana will do. I have no need for my proper name, and I don't intend to need to use it again, formally or otherwise. I hope you don't mind that I came out here, I wasn't sure, but I feared waking Mary to ask might put her into a fit..." Though in truth it didn't seem a difficult thing, irritating that woman.
Looking around, she nodded, almost absently, as he suggested that there would be need for a clock. She had an hour in that glorious cathedral of colors, and that was all that mattered for the time. Her gaze lingered on the tree overhead, at the majesty of purples and reds that filled the light tan branches. In a few weeks time the leaves would fall and be swept away to nothingness, but for now their color was the glory of the estate...
The air was cool again, and came with the musky scent of damp earth, and on the breeze the early fires that would warm the home against the chill. Shortly, the clouds would part for the sun and the sky would prove clear and blue, but in the greyness, the colors on the trees seemed almost surreal, painted by hand.
Only when he spoke again did she direct her attention to him and a brow quirked in curiosity at his odd question, "As much an education as my sex would be allowed. I can draw and sing... I learned some of the pianoforte, though I'm perhaps not as impressive as it as most. I found my instructor quite dull, with little passion. I sew, as well. Needlepoint and otherwise. Why? Do you mean for me to be this child's governess?"
The casual nature she took on with him was almost a little jarring and his eyebrows rose in response to it. He had rarely been allowed to call a mostly strange woman by her first name, regardless of her breeding or rank. Whether or not Mason knew how to take it was something of uncertainty. He certainly didn't respond with the same grace of allowing her to use the name Mason in his reference. In fact, most people didn't. A few of his closest friends knew his former name only in a haze, and often preferred to call him by Mr. Osment out of proper propriety for his rank and situation.
When she offered her hesitation over coming outside, Mason could only smile very softly. "Not at all," he replied remotely, "So long as you are not expected to be working, you are free to do as you choose. If you wish to enjoy the gardens, you may." Their topic had derailed slightly, but came back shortly thereafter and Mason was glad for it. "Yes," he remarked, glad for her keenness in picking out his proposal without it having to be explicitly stated, "For a time, at least. The girl will need a governess and I fear you and Mary may be—incompatible. Of course, the situation will be temporary, if you wish it, until the time I can acquire another to teach the young lady."
It had been his initial intention to let Mary and Georgiana loose together and see what would happen but, ultimately, Mason felt some sympathies towards his eldest housekeeper. His eyes softened gently and he looked away with a tired smile. "Would that situation be something of interest to you, Miss—ah, Georgiana? Of course, with the upcoming ball, you'll still be expected to aid around the estate as you can, but…" he trailed after a moment, deciding not to let his most recent thought be known, "Perhaps this will be easiest on Mary's tender soul."
He didn't wish to burden the older woman any more than he had to and he did, in fact, need someone to teach the young miss coming to live on his estate. He could think not of sending her to school in her current state of affairs, and perhaps a little child-like vivacity would serve the estate well. It needed a little more life, he figured, but he needed someone to keep the child reined in, especially when the ball was to occur. A young child meddling during the ball simply would not do at all.
"If you are unsure, you may think on it for the day," he mentioned.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
It was fair, and really rather a wise judgment on his part - his housekeeper seemed someone he held in high regard and it might seem dismissive to the woman if he were to saddle her with someone she found obviously detestable. That, and Georgiana was frankly rather happy not to be put in that position herself. She might not have had much experience with children, but surely they were better than someone who hated her outright.
She was also pleased to hear that he was content to allow her freedom when she wasn't meant to be working. There was a comfort in knowing she wouldn't be kept - and that she was allowed to roam around unhindered made her employment at Wintersmith, and subsequently, her devolvement from a place of respectability a little easier to take.
It wasn't something she was particularly pleased with or proud of - having to take a job so far below her station, but she had done what she needed to, in order to survive and she was glad, at least, that she wasn't reduced to returning to her home... or begging Collins to take her back. She had no desire to return to Hollowsfield... not for anything.
"I can't see why I would need to think on it. It sounds like a welcome change, and frankly, a better suit for your housekeeper and myself. I'm pleased you thought of it, really. I'm not particularly familiar with children, and if they're anything at all like people say, I will be sure not to underestimate this one. But I shall do my best to see she is well cared for. Who is she, if I might ask? Your niece?"
Mason seemed quite contemplative over the offer he had just made to her. While he wasn't shocked at her answer, he seemed to be mulling it over a great deal. "You will work with Mary until that time of her arrival, then," he finalized the commitments, though that meant he'd have to employ the papers for another maid soon enough. A governess was all fine, but that would not be nearly enough to keep his estate moving and preparing for the ball that was looming only a while longer than a fortnight away. He straightened his shoulders and began towards Georgiana, but only to walk past her and back towards his estate. With the matter of the young girl settled, he could finally tuck into his breakfast without any more worry.
Additional hired hands would be easy enough to find, but a good governess was a bit more difficult a search. With the mattered squared, he could put his mind to rest. Her question was unexpected, to say the least. He glanced back to her, brows raised a slight way up his lightly browned forehead. "The girl is but a girl," he said idly, offering no true answer for her curious appetite, "Perhaps sometime I'll tell you her origins, but that time is not now." His tone wasn't shrouded with mysteriousness or even any sort of hostility as it might have been from someone trying to hide a dreadful secret. In fact, he seemed quite calm about the girl's future arrival, so why he had chosen not to tell Georgiana would have been anyone's guess.
"It is getting close to six, Miss Everdale," he said without realizing his mistake in her name, "You better not be late."
With that, he strolled along towards the estate house, not waiting for her company and instead seeing himself directly into the foyer before transitioning, and promptly disappearing into, the main dining hall. Breakfast was also to be served to all the maids and gentlemen of the house, though they were to eat in the largest drawing room, apart from the master as was customary. The breakfast was quaint, warm, and fresh, though not extravagant.
"She is late, Mr. Osment!" a shrill voice sliced through him like glass through flesh, and his brows raised for a second time that morning.
"Calm yourself, Mary," Mason soothed the older woman, "I occupied her time in the garden this morning pursuing other interests for her situation, and yours. She will be arriving shortly. Please fetch her for you to begin your morning works."
Mary, satisfied but not thrilled with the answer, stalked off to find the insolent girl.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
"Georgiana..." She muttered, though he had already gone. She hadn't realized how much time had passed, but it sent her heart to her feet to think that she might be late. Moving swiftly, she darted back to the house and to her room as fast as her feet would carry her. She needed little work to get ready - there was no uniform, at least to her knowledge, but she put on the apron that had been laid out on the end of her bed, and tucking her hair up, stepped out into the hall.
She could hear the footfall of the severe matron of the house moving swiftly in her direction, even before she could see her. It was still shortly before six, surely, but it didn't surprise Georgiana that she ought to be expected early when on time would have sufficed. She was going to be held, undoubtedly, under great scrutiny... more than most, until she had proved herself. And prove herself, she would. She would be a well behaved gem, and Mary would have no choice but to love her, desperately.
"I'm sorry I'm tardy..." She confessed outright, though it was little truth, "I was walking with the Master in the gardens and I'm afraid I've no means of keeping the hour... I shall rectify this immediately and it shan't happen again. I do pray you would forgive me, and no hold this at all against Mr. Osment, who was only being so kind as to offer me another position that would be better for you... He seems to think that my employment might vex you, some... and well, I can't say that I disagree, entirely. I can be a nuisance. But I mean well, and I hope you'll see that."
Smoothing her apron, pleased, to say the least with her performance, she smiled and curtsied. That morning, she was a lady, and now a maid... but she would be the best maid she could, until another role demanded her attention, and then she would be the best at that, as well, "Where shall we begin?"
"Vex me?" Mary was clearly more insulted by the idea that she shouldn't be able to work with anyone given her good temperament and charm than she would have been to have to suffer working alongside such an ill-mannered woman like Georgiana. Still, she decided to dismiss the subject entirely as it seemed the Master had taken her as sort of a pet of his own. She took comfort, but no soothing, in the fact that Georgiana had admitted herself as a nuisance, a fact Mary couldn't have more highly agreed with. There was little time to stew over such thoughts when so much had yet to be completed.
"The guest rooms need much work," she explained, letting the conversation be transposed in a new direction, "All the guest rooms will be filled for the autumn ball and they must be stripped, cleaned, and prepared for the guests. All curtains must be pulled from the racks, the linens from the beds, the carpets from the floors and all must be scrubbed until not a single spot can be seen on any of them." She spoke quaintly, proudly, but of a woman who did not know an excellent education. Mary was undoubtedly smart in the way of housekeeping, but her other accomplishments were few. She couldn't so much as play a single note on any instrument, or draw even the simplest of figures. Writing was not even an object to her at all.
It was no doubt Mr. Osment had prized her so thoroughly, however. She was old, but willful, and she rolled up the sleeves of her dress like she meant it. Before long, cleaning supplies were introduced and Mary waved Georgiana down her own wing of the estate to go through room by room, cleaning each and every one to perfection. "We will only stop for lunch, then we shall continue again through the afternoon and shall retire for supper and coffee," she explained, "I'll expect your work. Do not allow my eye to catch even a speck of dust! Miss Archer would surely not have it!" she warned, "Miss Archer deserves only the best, as do all the guests coming to our Master's ball."
Leaving Georgiana entirely alone and working away from her so they wouldn't have to bother with the most tiresome conversation, Mary started on the opposite end of the same wing. Georgiana wasn't left alone long, however. Before even a few moments had passed, a young woman stepped into the room to help.
"Good morning, miss!" the dainty little creature cried out. She was not a beautiful woman, though she had her youth about her, certainly. She must have been no older than sixteen years, with a constellation of freckles across her broad, flattened nose and a few unsightly blemishes ruining her boxy forehead. Though her face was not at all tasteful to look at, her blonde hair was the most lovely shade and fell in the glossiest curls down her neck and back. "It's nice to meet your acquaintance, I'm Jane—Jane Reid. I hear you're the new lady, are you?" Jane inspected Georgiana with a sort of friendly smile, picking up the duster to begin helping, "Well, welcome. It's nice to see another lady closer to my own age here, finally."
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
It had worked, at least in part - the woman had not pursued any debate on Georgiana's proposed tardiness and the conversation had shifted on to something else without much note at all. The woman was stern and shrewish, but she seemed practical, and Georgie could appreciate that, at least. She wouldn't be as difficult to deal with as initially thought. And Georgiana could not have been prouder. It didn't escape her attention that Mr. Osment had put her up against the housekeeper with the intent to see if she was, indeed, worth putting on as a maid - and she felt as though she had passed the initial test, magnificently.
Guest rooms, it seemed, were the first on her list of new chores to explore, and it seemed odd and slightly ridiculous, but she said nothing of the sort of Mary. Guests, she had discovered, as she had been one many times, cared very little about draperies and linens and their cleanliness. Except, of course, to be fussy. Though on second thought, she had never been that sort of guest, but she imagined those Mr. Osment was expecting might be. To her credit, she said none of this out loud, despite the itch to, and instead, follow Mary down the hall.
Inside the room, she was instructed in what to do and then Mary was off, flitting away, no doubt afraid that Georgiana might try to talk her ear off. In truth, Georgie was more eager to work. It was a strange feeling, getting one's hands dirty... and it was the first occasion she had had to really try... There would be no one to scold her about sullying her gloves or dress, or getting callouses on her hands, no one to fuss over her hair or the state of her face. Despite the fact that she had come to such a lowly place, she felt freer than ever.
She was excited... and so much so that she almost didn't notice the wisp of a creature coming alongside her, a few minutes later. She glanced over and smiled, warmly, her eyes taking in the young woman with polite scrutiny. She was what women often called homely, but to Georgiana, she seemed immediately sweet and kind, and that was all that mattered.
"Good morning, indeed, Jane. Nice to meet you, as well. Very nice to see a friendly face, I'd say..."
"Friendly?" Jane laughed as she moved into the room like the little fairy she was, fluttering lightly on the tips of her toes. "You must be mistaken, everyone here is quite friendly with the exception of the master. A civil man, but not any bit warm." Her words were not intended to be insulting so much as indifferent. Men of his grade often were expected to be at least somewhat aloof and Mason fit that every tick. A bachelor too, his heart had not been softened by a woman's love and hand.
Jane began to pull the drapes from the rod and dusted them off, using a soft and damp cloth to begin to clean them and ensure the rich burgundy fabric was not soiled by the dust they had collected over the past few months of vacancies. As she worked, Jane looked up and inspected Georgiana at once-- as if taking in every single curve and plane of the stranger's face. "Do you come from around here, miss?" She asked, noting the woman had not shared her name. "I come from a small village only twenty mile from here. I worked at Rosings before coming to Wintersmith," she went on to talk about herself, unsure what else to talk of. "Rosings was nice, but nothing to the grandeur of Wintersmith. It can host fifty guests!" She exclaimed excitedly, talking like a little bird tweeted-- without hesitation or stop.
"I eagerly await the ball. Though I won't be able to join in my position, I do enjoy looking at all the beautiful ladies and handsome gentleman. So many of them will arrive! It's quite he affair." She smiled inwardly, poking at one of the failed stitching in the drapes and pulling it over her knee to see how best to mend it. She broke from the room only a moment to collect thread and needle and when she returned, she started again right where she had left off. Soon enough, the drape was repaired like it had never been sullied or damaged on the first place and Jane lifted it to return it to the window to be hung.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Georgiana was all to aware, having been told so often, but also being a bit self-concerned, that she could chatter quite destructively. She spoke her mind and was rather indecent for a woman, though usually (in her defense) quite right. But it was an unusual condition, and not one she had come up against on the opposite end. So when the young woman, Jane, began to prattle on with ceasing, Georgie was almost nearly taken aback by it.
Yet she did not find, as many had her own unconditioned tongue, the young woman's speech at all distasteful. In fact, she was rather quite a bit amused by the sentiments, and the excitability. It was a unique experience, seeing the world from the view of someone who might have been her equal, were her circumstances better... Someone that Georgiana never would have come in contact with, otherwise, and seeing the light of life behind those bright eyes.
"It's Georgiana..." She remarked, realizing she hadn't given her name, "And they are something, indeed. Balls. I've been to a few, myself, but most were dreadfully dull. There was one, though, at Billingforth Manor... It was a masque, and it was absolutely exquisite. There were performers there from the Circus, and the food was divine - a chef came up all the way from Paris. And the gowns, oh... but they were resplendent." With a soft sigh, Georgie looked down at the duster in her hand and frowning, moving to pull down her own rod, mirroring the actions of the spritely young maid, "I've never been to one with quite so many as fifty guests, however. It must be some affair, indeed."
It was little surprise then, that Mr. Osment required a new maid just for preparations, alone, "I don't mind him. Mr. Osment. Not nearly as much as I expected I might. He'd cold, as you said, but there is a passion in him... I saw it last night, when he asked me to read for him. And a little this morning in his gait, when he was walking the gardens. He's an odd man... but i think he's kind, beneath the frost. He's a nice way about him, at least. And he was good enough to give me a job, when no one else might've. I'm not fit for it, see... being as I don't have the proper experience."
Jane giggled happily as she continued to speak, working through the room with such ease and lack of thought, it was like her entire body had been trained for such procedures. In a way, it had. She had little other prospect than being a maid and she was very good for it. A valuable employee of Mr. Osment no doubt she was, though even among her own class, it was not easy to imagine she was to wed or attract any suitors at all. Though lovely and genial in every way a young woman should have been, her facial features left a great deal to be desired. What was more, she talked too much.
She would have talked anyone's ear off who was willing to listen to her, and Georgiana had become the subject of her ramblings. "Oh yes," she agreed nearly immediately to her reviews of the Master, "A bachelor he is, you know. Once he marries, I imagine he'll be a much softer gentleman. Or at least, I hope. He is not unkind a master though," she mused softly, her thoughts getting the better of her hands for a moment. She recognized her idleness with a start and quickly went back to wiping the lamp shade she had been working on once more. "I do wonder if he plans to extend his hand at this very ball," she continued on, "I would very much enjoy having a mistress of the house, don't you think?"
"Think of all the bonnets, jewels, and dresses we could see! Oh, it would be divine!" Though a mistress would bring about extra work, all Jane could see was a want to see extravagant clothes pass through the estate everyday. The decorum and fashion of Wintersmith was quite dull with just a master, whose favorite color seemed to only be grey. The ball, then, seemed to be a welcome change of pace for Jane, who had very little else in her life to look forward to.
"At last year's ball, one of the gentleman was so taken with one of the maids—Miss Jane Darcy, a different Jane than me—that he asked her to dance! A maid danced with a well-bred gentleman! It was quite the scandal," she exclaimed excitedly, "Master Osment allowed it, of course, but it was the gossip of the ball and event for the rest of the week. After the dance, the gentleman refused to speak to Jane again out of sheer embarrassment, but could you imagine?" Jane sighed and clutched the duster to her chest for only a moment, "Dancing with such a handsome gentleman." At once, she twirled and her plain dressed kicked up as she moved, "Alas, I'm much too plain to attract anyone's eye."
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Delightful. That, decidedly, was the term for young Jane. Positively delightful. All her whimsy and charm... It was a travesty that she spoke at all about not attracting anyone, for anyone who found her anything but magnificent was plainly shallow and dumb as a bag of charcoal.
Georgiana smiled as she flitted about, concentrating as much as possible on her tasks, while easily more interested in the topic at hand. The more she learned about Mason Osment, the more intriguing the man became, "A bachelor, is he? I had thought perhaps... Hmm. Well, it doesn't matter what I think, anyway. A lady around the house might soften him, though I dare say only the right one. Dreadful things... Women. Most at least. Particularly those with any standing. Dull as bread and little more than fluff in their heads. All they are ia bonnets and jewels mind you, and not nearly so pretty on the inside... Where it matters. Anyone... If it's all that frivolity you want to see you needn't wait on the master to find himself a haughty young wife. I've plenty, and you're welcome to see them, any time."
Hanging the curtain rod, she moved to collect the linens from the bed for washing, piling them near the door, the across to the chest of drawers to begin dusting.
Again, she found herself surprised by Mason and a brow lifted at the thought of him allowing what otherwise might have been a scandelous display. Perhaps he wasn't so high upon his horse as she had initially thought, "I don't see much a point in it... Separating the classes the way we do. Maids are perfectly lovely. More so, sometimes, than young ladies, all vapid and useless."
Frowning, she looked over her shoulder, "And don't you dare speak so ill of yourself, Jane Reid. Plain means nothing when you've got a good heart and kind soul. You'll find someone... And mind you, only if you want to."
"Oh yes, a bachelor!" Jane returned to the subject at once, excited to be able to speak and gossip to anyone in the house at all. There were a great number of hired hands around the estate, all with varying personalities, but few wished to indulge Jane's eccentric and unladylike ways. Her eyes brightened considerably as the topic resumed about something she knew well, for she was always glad when she got to share information another did not know.
"Oh no, Georgiana, you are very much confused. The woman who entertains him most is Miss Archer and she is most divine. The most beautiful creature I have laid eyes on ever in my life… very kind she is, too! And civil! She sponsors a boarding school for underprivileged girls on her own wealth and is truly a very kind woman. I would very much like her to become the mistress of Wintersmith," she murmured restlessly, "she fancies Master Osment, as well. You can just tell it when she visits."
Jane frowned at Georgiana's assessment of the young ladies, for Jane herself had grown to be quite fond of them, even though she was not one herself. She only discouragingly shook her head at her companion. "You are speaking nonsense, miss," she stated blandly, suddenly very uninterested in the company and conversation at hand, "I do not wish to insult anyone in such a way as you are," she glanced away, inspecting the room once to ensure it was in proper order for Mary's approval, "For lumping together all individuals in any group as vapid and useless is awfully audacious of you, isn't it?"
Clearly taken aback by the woman's prejudice against everyone in a certain level of society, Jane quickly darted out the room in the opposite direction that she perceived Georgiana to be heading. She offered no further word to the woman aside from a stiff and barely civil nod of her head in parting as she moved to an entirely separate half of the wing, entirely. She'd much rather be spending her time with Mary, no matter how foul the old coot could be. Better to be in foul company than company who could, at any moment, turn her insulting tongue on to Jane herself. Jane wasn't sure her tender heart could bear another offense.
Eventually, the day wore on. No more appearance of Jane Reid had been made, though Mary had come around to inspect the rooms that had been cleaned. They were a long way from done, the progress slow, but progress all the same.
"The master has finished his lunch, now it is our time to dine. Did you sweep under the rug, Georgiana? Not just under it?" Mary asserted rather assumingely, eyeing the room but finding no fault in it. Certainly the work of Jane, she thought to herself—if it hadn't been for Jane, she was certain Georgiana would have failed.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
It hadn't occurred to her... When gossip seemed the lady thing and the maid thing to do that it might, in fact be the one thing she had no part in for either class... There was a good chance that in her abhorrence of her former life she might always fail to fit into either and it was a thought that made her stomach twist, and her eyes burn.
Jane had seemed content to speak and speak... Yet once more Georgiana found she was the one who said entirely too much and it was aggravating and devastating all the same... If a girl who claimed no one wanted to be around her was less a pariah than Georgiana herself?
Jane left and Georgiana worked, and worked... She worked until her hands cracked, raw from the washing, her bones and muscles aching and then she worked still, and though it hurt and would undoubtedly hurt worse when she stopped, but not to work felt unbearable.
She stopped only when Mary came to inspect and then Georgiana stood by, biting her cheek to keep from crying, for in her stillness that was all she desperately wanted to do "Yes, Miss." She responded, plainly, and then... Because speaking seemed to unwedge the awful lump in her throat, she asked the be dismissed and without waiting, ran from the room. She ran and ran, until her feet hurt all the more, until she found her bed and collapsed onto it in tears.
She cried for a few minutes, burrowed in her pillow, but only a few minutes, for she wouldn't allow any more than that in self pity. Picking herself up, she dug through her things for her absolute bedt bonnet, then paper and a quill pen and swiftly, she wrote.
'Dearest Jane,
I humbly beg your apologies for my manners.. Or lack there of. It seems I know little of the world and have much to learn... For I speak kindly and am banished from my fiance's home... Then speak ill and am left alone once more. Yet there is no excuse. I behaved terribly and pray that you might forgive me. I find you endearing and bright and I think, if you do not despise me so, we could be friends.
Yours,
Georgie
With a flourish, she signed the letter, and after that it was only asking about for Jane's bed. There, she left the letter and the bonnet, then returned to her room, in no mood to eat.
Lunch came and went and another few hours into the afternoon went more cleaning. Mary seemed mostly pleased with the work, even if she found something to complain about all the while. After a few more hours of cleaning, dinner came and went and about the hour of evening coffee, at the dust of twilight, cae the first reappearance of Jane Reid. She was unkempt as ever, though always did her best to tame those wild and stunning curls that still fell over her shoulders with all the elegance of a waterfall bathed in afternoon sunlight. In her hand was the letter by Georgiana's hand. She arrived at Georgiana's room and after a small knock, gave the door a small push.
"I received your letter, Georgiana," she mentioned, "it's very kind of you. Your former relation—how terrible a thing that." She could have only been referring to Georgiana's previous, called off engagement. "I do hope you get to meet Miss Archer when she arrives here in Wintersmith," Jane went on, the inflection of her tone changing properly as she quickly forgave and forgot the hurt from earlier as was entirely in her nature, "Very beautiful and if you have ever run into sour ladies before, I am certain it is Miss Archer who will change your mind at once that not all fine ladies are bad-mannered." A smile warmed her face and it improved her countenance a great deal as she did so by relieving the redness of the blemishes on her forehead and pinching her nose to make it appear smaller and more proper to her face.
"I came to tell you that the Master has requested your presence in his study for coffee," she mused, tapping her fingernails gentle against the door, "Quite interesting, that, isn't it? I haven't seen him speak to anyone as much except for you and Miss Archer. You must have really enchanted him in some way!" she giggled and turned, her frock flipping out behind her as she moved away from the door and down the darkened hall back towards her own dormitory where she could retire for the remainder of her evening. "Have fun, Georgie!" she called out behind her, her door clicking shut to announce the end of their converse.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Georgiana had a few hours to think, and think she certainly did. She found it all a little frustrating and intimidating, the idea of coming from one society, with all their rules and impositions and etiquette into another... And there was no doubt in her mind that's entirely what it was. For as much as Jane had scolded her and seemed terribly offended by her remarks, up until she had decided to be proper about it, she had appeared to have no qualms about her gossiping behavior. Georgie would need to find the lines, and she wasn't entirely sure she liked the notion of that.
Why people couldn't simply be who they wanted, as they wanted without the nonsensical fears of judgment or reprimand. No... People could, but only if they were men.
After Jane's return, she hardly felt much better. She was glad the young girl seemed to have forgiven the unintended slight, but something in the insistence about this Miss Archer made Georgiana feel much worse. She did her best to smile and as she changed out of her apron and found her way back to the study she did so with the intention of putting the miserable morning behind her... Yet it stuck like straw in one's hair...
Why did he ask for her company when he surely had his most precious Miss Archer to call upon.
Knocking, then stepping inside, and with a polite bow of her head, she found her way to the bookshelf and pulled down The Three Musketeers, then sitting, started immediately from where she had left off. She said nothing else of it, and the inflection of her voice remained true only to the nature of the book, but the day seemed to wear heavily on her shoulders, in her sore hands, angry red and cracked, in her swollen, red rimmed eyes... Balancing worlds wasn't just difficult. It seemed impossible.
But Mr. Osment had not called her down to read, not that evening.
The armchair in which he sat was a statement against gravity, more upright than the walls of the house itself. The curl of the wood was carved to demand attention and the fabric was bold to the unguarded eye. His fingers tapped idly against the curve of the left armrest, watching Georgiana as she entered, without word, grabbed her book, and sat to read. Any other man of his stature would have been cruelly insulted by her lack of acknowledgement, but Mason was not. In fact, he remained quite cool and detached to everything that happened to him, it seemed. At time, it was a wonder he felt any emotion at all.
His eyes towards her were not particularly soft, like a gentleman's ought to be when faced with the brimming red of recent tears in a young lady, but they weren't harsh and unwelcoming, either. "Miss-" he paused in his error, speaking when she had come to her first viable pause in her reading, "Georgiana, I did not call you here to read," he stated, "Rather, I've heard of it that you've have a particularly trying day. Miss Jane Reid has saw to it to inform me that you are having a particularly rough go of your time here at Wintersmith." She seemed alien, Georgiana. Never before had he a hired hand who didn't so easily transition into the house, even with Mary's scruples.
Perhaps he truly had misunderstood her history and found it rather amusing she seemed to belong to no group. If she had come from the upper crust of society, she certainly didn't last long there. With the lower classes, she also seemed to offend… though Mason couldn't be able to say how, for all Miss Reid had spoke against Georgiana was pity and worry for her. "Miss Reid is worried for you and, upon seeing you myself, as am I." He weighed his options momentarily and the thoughts were more clear across his face, perhaps the first time he seemed to be consciously wearing any hint of emotions. "Tell me, Georgiana, is this truly what you had been hoping for? Do you wish to continue your situation here at Wintersmith?"
Though her position would transition to that of governess in due time, he couldn't have an idle hand sitting around because she felt ill towards the maid's work. He realized rather quickly that perhaps she only needed a small moment of reality to quickly want to retreat to her former life, despite all the evils she had found in it at the time. These were all great considerations in his mind as he waited, and equally anticipated, her rejoinder.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
As he interrupted, Georgiana was reluctant, for a moment, to cease reading. There was something in fiction that made it so easy to forget, and as she trailed off into silence, it was with a small frown, her eyes drifting up from the pages to meet his. she wasn't concerned, really, that there was no emotion there - in truth, it somehow made what he had to say easier to hear. But it was frustrating, to say the least. The way the world worked wasn't fair, indeed, and she was faltering... Faltering pathetically, in a sea of confusion and deceit.
"I'm sure she meant well, but Miss Reid had no right to call attention to anything, without coming to me about it, first. If she was worried, then she ought to have spoken to me, so I might put her mind at ease. As it is, if I were having a difficult time of things, I would have come to you myself. I was caught off guard by some unfamiliar territory, but I've got it sorted, well enough. I finished my work, did I not? And your housekeeper seemed pleased enough by it, though I imagine she won't say as much, as she is insistent upon hating me." Frowning softly, she closed the book and set it on the arm of the chair, eyes his hands for a moment or two.
"Of course this isn't what I was hoping for. There's hardly a woman alive who would choose this life, Mr. Osment. Very rarely is any woman exactly where she desires to be. And the life of a maid is difficult, particularly if one is more accustomed to a softer, easier circumstance. But it is the life that I am convinced if best for me, at this current time. You may not believe me, and I'm sure no one else does, about where I come from, but that's fine, I don't expect to be coddled or treated differently... though I suppose I will be, as I don't seem to fit in much with anyone. Such is my cross and I will bear it with as much dignity as I am able. But it hasn't affected how I work and it won't, so I see no reason for this to be of any concern for you."
"Ah yes," he smiled dutifully, "I forgot that it is to be that everyone and everything is against Miss Everdale. Mary must certainly hate you, for it is in your position in life to be hated by everyone. Then, of course, Miss Reid acted quite cruelly and terribly towards you, as well. Hmm," he tsked quietly, his tongue flipped against the backside of his teeth as he greatly exaggerated her own discussion. "Have you ever considered that it is your insistent nature that everyone dislikes you that makes everyone dislike you?" he inquired daringly, though there was no assaulting tone playing a note in his voice, though he was making it quite clear he had no intention to coddle her or get swept up into her own self-pity.
Eventually, Mason chuckled quietly, inwardly, as if possessed by thoughts that were quite amusing if only to himself and he shrugged. It was a very impolite gesture—to shrug—as it was in possession of the idea he had no valuable words left to be spoken, but he didn't mean it insulting so much as off-the-cuff. It seemed evidently clear to him that Georgiana had come from a very coddled and fair history and the change into becoming a maid was quite a shocking one for her. "You'd be surprised how many a woman would choose this life, Georgiana. Before you go making assumptions on those of others, I suggest you inquire as to where Mary was before Wintersmith. Or, better yet, ask Miss Jane Reid what her circumstances were before Wintersmith. Perhaps you would not choose this life, Georgiana, but plenty would—and have."
"You may have struggles, but so does everyone in this house, I assure you. It is a cursed house, this, wrought with torture and unhappiness and you are mistaken to be the only one here gripped by anguishes. In fact, I dare believe everyone here grieves every day."
He glanced back to the fire that was crackling in the hearth, his normally stormy colored eyes reflecting the orange and reds that danced before him. "I do not wish to discredit your sufferings, Georgiana, not at all. You are a cursed elf, it would seem, but try and make good of something." He took a sip of his coffee, letting a deep sigh possess him inwardly. Unable to finish his own cup, he set it down on the coffee table at his feet and rose.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Shaking her head, Georgiana rose as well, "I'm afraid you've misunderstood what is simple observation on my part as some self inflicted despair. I neither know, nor do I care what Mary thinks of me. I'm sure she's lovely, and has served you well, but it's quite clear she doesn't like me, and perhaps I am responsible for that, at least in part, as my first impressions with her were undoubtedly not the best. But I did my best to be more than civil today and still, I received, at best, quiet contempt. It is no mystery that she wants me to fail, and while her intentions might be for the good of Wintersmith, she certainly bears me little good will. As for Miss Reid, I don't imagine she hates me, at all. Particularly if she came to you in concern for my well being. In fact, it is my hope that we're able to become friends... She's charming and bright, and I find her willingness to converse honestly refreshing. But that doesn't alter the fact that she came to you without first seeking me out. I see no reason why that shouldn't offend me."
Smoothing down the front of her skirt, she shook her head, "Perhaps they are happy... or content. And if so, I see no problems in that. One should be pleased with one's station in life. But that does not change the fact that they have no choice... not really. It is radical, I understand, to think that a woman should get to decide for herself what her station is, but every new idea was, at some point modern and radical, before it was accepted."
A small, dry smile formed, and she picked up the book to return it to the shelf, "You don't wish to discredit me, but in a way, just to say as much, you do. And it's fair... it's your right to. Just as I don't mean to dismiss the suffering of Miss Reid and Mary, but by some degree, have just by my assumptions. Just as the have done with their own. We are, all of us, guilty of discrediting someone... whether we mean well or don't. I'm sure I must sound like little more than a spoiled, petulant child to most people. My past is not something I like to speak about, but I also don't lock it away. I have very good reason for avoiding my family, and if someday you require I expound on why, I see no point in choosing not to disclose those reasons. But for the time being, I also see no point in dredging up history better left where it is. None of that matters, though. The simple fact of the matter is that I have been at this for only a day, and already everyone I've spoken to expects me to fail, and as I've said, I suspect some even want me to. And maybe I will. Maybe it won't even take that long. But I have no intentions to, and while I don't expect preferential treatment, a little grace would go a long way."
Stepping away from the bookshelf, she bowed her head, politely, before moving to the door. She paused, her hand on the knob and glanced over her shoulder at him, "I'm still figuring out the rules, Mr. Osment, but I am trying. Goodnight..." And with another nod, she stepped out into the hall.
It was quite clear Mason had no response to her, not out of lack of his own ability to conjure a response, but true disinterest. Her past was, by no means, his concern. More importantly, her future failure or success would have little impact on the state of Wintersmith. If she did not wish for his concern, then he would not give it, nor would he give her any preferential treatment. He had, for a very short while, extended her a sort of pet-like status, but if it made it harder on her, than it would do to stop. Wintersmith was a lonely, cursed place and no one knew it better than Master Osment, though no one would have thought his existence at all, in any regard, cursed at face value.
He had good breeding, an upstanding reputation about town, and more wealth than even other wealthy men of the neighborhood did. There was no luxury or comfort his estate would not know if he chose it so how a man of that gravity could be tortured was anyone's guess. Still, a lingering discomfort seemed to exist in every part of Mr. Osment, and it did not escape the eyes of the maids who knew him most intimately. For want of a wife, some would explain it away, but even when he smiled in the company of any beautiful and charming young woman, it lingered darkly in the corners of his manifestation.
Sitting back on his heels, Mason waited until she left the room before making his own departure towards his room to rest.
As usual, gripped by his own inability to sleep, he was up again well before the dawn. He dressed in the flimsy light of a candle before descending into the dark, cavernous halls. That particular morning, he decided against a stroll in the garden, for a heavy frost had taken the earth and had coated everything in a plaster of white hoarfrost. So unpleasant the weather outside, Mason stopped at the window to inspect. In the hazy light of the earliest morning, storm clouds breeched the horizon—growing dark and gathered, threatening rain… or snow, if the morning sun did not begin its warming ritual soon.
What truly turned him away from a stroll was not the weather so much as the ill feelings in his own head. His face was pale and his cheeks flushed. His body was radiating heat like a brick right out of the oven, never mind the headache that was splitting him violently in two.
