Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
"You always been Mason to me..." She murmured, and then smiled coyly, "Even when I was meant to call you Mr. Osment. How you put up with me, I'll never know." She laughed, and shook her head, before falling back into the gentle silence. He was tired, understandably, and would need his rest, but until she was dismissed, she would enjoy every moment she had with him, all too glad to have them, at all.
The maid was called, and Lizzie was carried away to her room, which seemed to be Georgiana's cue as well, though she was easily more reluctant. It occurred to her that anything could still happen and if he were to fall ill in the night... if there were complications. She would need time, before she was fully willing to accept that he was well, and it would be difficult, indeed, not to want to coddle him. But she couldn't very well sleep there, even on the couch, for the shock of it.
With a small frown, she shifted and rose, bringing his hand to her lips against before releasing it with a gentle squeeze, "You rest, my love. I'll be back as soon as I'm awake, and we'll spend the day together. You'll be so bored of me, you'll heal instantly, so that you can get up out of that bed." She smiled then, and reaching out, brushed the curl from his forehead, her expression softening as she did so, "...Don't ever scare me like this again, Mason. I couldn't bear it. Goodnight, darling..." And with a soft sigh, she turned to go.
"Is that so?" he asked, "I will tell you I have been out of bed already once or twice. It is my shoulder that is injured, not my heart nor my legs." It had been a woozy few minutes he had been up on his feet as he had lost a fair quantity of blood during the accident. He had shuffled about for a few minutes the day of their arrival and the day before, even if to just wash his face and clean his hands. It felt good to rinse the sweat and dirt from his skin before lying back down, but he certainly hadn't been entirely unable to rise from bed. He could, if absolutely necessary, but his body had been so driven by exhaustion he had much preferred to stay in rest. Every movement had proven to be increasingly tiring, even something as simple as smiling or talking.
She bid him adieu with a kiss to the back of his hand and he offered her a tender smile in response. "I will certainly do my best to ensure it doesn't happen again; however, I make no promises I am unable to ensure I am likely to keep." Accidents were unavoidable and Mason seemed particularly prone to them—falling of an ill spirited horse, being shot by a friendly hunter, the list went on and on. "Good night, my pearl," he said to her in a quiet, baritone voice, smiling as she turned to leave and the door fell shut behind her. Left in his silence, he closed his eyes and immediately, his brain wandered into sleep. Every night it was the same.
The maid raises an alarm by chiming the dinner bell, an odour of smoke in the air. Within the house, the fire spread with ease, turning the once pretty first floor into a maze of flame. There was no way out—the doors all blocked, burned asunder. He darted to the window, looking down, and knew the drop would kill him… a broken neck for sure. He pushed open the panes, feeling the crisp night air slither into the room and push the smoke out of his lungs. The hot glass had burned his palms and a moment later, it blew out, sending hot shards of glass into the manicured yard below. It was a twenty-foot drop, at least, but he knew whatever happened to him in the fall… the alternative was much worse.
Mason's eyes reeled open and he sat up in bed with enough haste that his shoulder shrieked in pain and a groan gripped his throat. He reached his good hand up to his shoulder, feeling the heat of the wound from below the bandages. It ached desperately, but he exhaled slowly and calmed his wildly beating heart. Around the room he glanced, there was no fire… no smell of smoke. All was well at the middle of the night—two thirty in the morning—and everyone, except for him, asleep.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Perhaps not everyone, though. For yet again, despite her best efforts, Georgiana found sleep an elusive thing. This time, however, it was not her own difficult past which kept her awake, but her worries over Mason's... Both Masons, she supposed. His words stayed with her, his warning about the men that might wish them harm, and in her mind she could not escape the sense of anxiety this brought.
Her desire to marry him had not diminished at all, and in fact, had only grown since her arrival - the idea of becoming his bride so much sooner than she imagined something of a pleasant shock, most welcome. But knowing what it came with did make her wonder just who it was that had carried the name before her Mason had taken up the mantel. How someone could be so deranged and cause so much difficulty for his family...
She thought of her own father and of Collins, both men cads to the heart and seemingly so incapable of cherishing the women in their lives. Of Lizzie, and what she was to grow up into... the world they were preparing her for. It seemed hardly prevalent for her to learn French or drawing or piano - she would have profited much more so from learning how to tell the difference between a good man and a typical one. It was difficult not to lose faith in people, in general, when the world seemed so dark and disturbing.
Rising, though perfectly unsure of what to do with her, she paced for a little while in her room before, sometime before dawn, she made her way down the hall and back to Mason's room. For a moment, her hand hovered over the knob, then with a small sigh, she knocked softly, and stepped in. He was awake, but she had somehow expected him to be, and moved to his side, she knelt down before him.
"...Couldn't sleep, either? Maybe someday, we will, Love... Do you need anything?"
The knock came as a startling surprise to him and he remained defiantly quiet at the sound of it. He didn't appreciate a late night intruder at such an hour when he hadn't been expecting anyone and it caused his breath to stall in his chest. When the door did open, revealing behind it Georgiana, he exhaled once more and allowed himself to relax. "Hardly," he replied simply, "I've learned I shall never properly sleep again." It was a curse he was certain he would have to carry until death, at which time he could only hope a chance would incur in his spirit.
Still, a small smile possessed his somber countenance and he leaned back into his propped pillows, now sitting upright. His hands were crossed in his lap, though his injured shoulder was hunched in a guarded way, as if to defend it from more pain than it had already endured. "You should still be resting, however," he informed her pointedly, though not demandingly, "For I certainly don't need a thing at this hour." It was middle of the night, much too early for even the servants to be up and moving about—lighting hearths, preparing breakfast, beginning the morning chores. The darkness still remained quite heavy outside, and would remain so for a number of hours. It was traversing well into the winter months, meaning the sun wouldn't dare to crawl on to the horizon until mid morning.
He sighed, glancing towards the window, which had been left with parted curtains. He could make out blips of stars that gleamed between the clouds that moved slowly across the night sky. The moon was neither a sliver nor full, but instead a lobbed off half. "Perhaps later this morning, you should take a carriage into London," he suggested. She had already offered to stay the entire day with him, but what a terribly boring day that would provide to be for her. "Fetch my waistcoat, will you? It's there, on the chair," he pointed it out, where it had been hung over the back of the desk chair.
It was heavy with weight, far heavier than a waistcoat ought to be alone. "In the left pocket, you will find a small pouch of coin—more than sufficient for any shopping." By 'sufficient' he meant a staggering amount of silver pound. She could well have bought most of London with the amount. "Take it and venture out. Hopefully, it will not snow. Perhaps bring Lizzie with you, if it interests you, and a gentleman to escort so you don't get lost or taken advantage of." It wasn't meant as a way to imply that she was not strong or able to navigate the city on her own, but parts could be dangerous to anyone… but especially to a young, pretty woman with plenty of coin.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Her lip twitched down into a frown, and she shook her head, "I can't sleep, anymore. It seems my mind has other ideas." Sinking down beside him, she sighed, "I close my eyes and all I can see are the horrible things that have happened... to you, to me. I worry about Lizzie. About the world she'll have to grow up in. I wonder sometimes how we did it, how we managed to survive it all, without sinking into it..."
Looking up as he gestured for his coat, she smiled faintly and nodded, slipping off the bed to have a look. She had money herself - quite enough, and she would have been more than pleased to use it if necessary, but men, she found, enjoyed the thought of providing, and she appreciated the gesture, as well, "I will do that, then. I'll bring Lizzie along, and maybe buy her a new dress. She'll be in a better mood today, I think, given she knows you're well enough, now." Returning, she sat on the edge of the bed.
"She's a remarkable girl, Mason. She's strong, and so brave. As much as I worry about her, growing up in this world, I'm almost more worried for the world." Chuckling softly, she shook her head, "I know you mean for me to continue on as her governess, and I intend to, while you're away, but I'm not entirely sure she'll ever lose all of that willfulness, and I'm not really entirely sure I want her to. But she will be a force to reckon with, when she's grown."
Reaching for his hand again, she laced her fingers through his, "...I... I've been meaning to ask you somethings, and I wasn't entirely sure how to broach the subject. I know you mentioned to me once, that you desired to leave Wintersmith to her. Do... do you intend to have any children of your own?"
"Lizzie will be just fine in the same ways we are, Georgiana," he replied assuredly, "You give her all the credit in the world until she needs it. Rest assured that she is a craft, well-minded girl who will survive the world just fine. Perhaps she will encounter miseries and mistakes, but it is from those we grow the most, as will she. You cannot shelter her." Mason was a forgiving guardian to Elizabeth, but he certainly was not her shelter. Sooner or later, she would be thrust out upon the world and be left to her own devices… her own instincts on the people who situated themselves around her.
He closed his eyes as she returned to his bedside. "My only wish for her, Georgiana, is to be an accomplished young woman. Her spirit will be made or broken by the world and her response to it, and that alone. There is no use worrying over her or the world she enters, as what will happen will happen and she will succeed or she will fail. Perhaps she will both and, truly, I wish it so. More than anything, I wish her hardships and troubles, not because I do not wish for her happiness, I do, but because trauma makes the most resilient and brilliant individuals." He found it quite difficult, at times, being both her guardian and the person helping develop her for the world. It is why he had intended to leave her for the winter instead of bring her along as a companion, as she had begged of him before.
He loved her and was there for her no matter what, he always would be, but it was hard to watch her fail. Yet, he knew she needed those failures. A thin line it was between spoiling and caring in proper doses.
Her next question did not surprise him as he had been anticipating her to ask it. "It is my desire to bequeath Lizzie Wintersmith, yes," he affirmed her statement, "As for children of my own?" Mason paused to consider, once more, his answer. "I wouldn't say I intend anything, really. I would like to have children of my own, of course, but if it doesn't happen, then it doesn't happen. Do you want children, Georgiana?"
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Her smile brightened a little, and she shook her head with a small chuckle, "You are never one to mince words, my darling, and I love you for it. In fact, I'm fairly certain that's why I fell in love with you, to begin with. You didn't seem to think twice about teasing me in the bakery that day, and I admit, it was startling to come across someone who was so comfortable and without apology for the person he was."
She, herself, rarely made apology for her behavior. So long as she wasn't outright rude or wrong, she made it a point to be honest and fair, and she gave her opinion, regardless of who she was up against. She didn't worry about propriety the way most did, and it made people uncomfortable, she knew, but she never much understood the need to lie, just to avoid offending someone - It seemed better to be honest, at least ethically.
"You're right, though. I will do my best not to shelter her... even if I desperately want to. It's just... I went through so much, as did you. It's nature, I suppose, to want to protect her from the same. It has made me stronger, indeed, but I can't say I wouldn't have have preferred a bit of sheltering, myself." She smiled, "Perhaps she'll bear it better, because she is so loved..."
As he continued, her smile softened. Another man might have blanched at her boldness, but he never seemed to mind her honesty, and perhaps this was why they fared so well together, "I do... So long as they're with you, I do."
"Nothing, Georgiana, would please me more in all my life," she assured his future wife. The thoughts of their children, Lizzie certainly included, stirred a smile from him as he considered them. He wish he could consider those thoughts without a shadow of a doubt from the past, both his own and the former Mason's.
"Well," he cleared his throat to dismiss those thoughts for the time being. "Those are lovely thoughts after we wed, Georgiana. All will be settled and decided up, but I'm sure we plenty to consider for a wedding, no? A wedding at Wintersmith, I had never thought the idea." Wintersmith had been a prison for as long as he had been there, as both James and Mason, and no sooner had it a wedding. It was the smallest of the estates and it would have had made more sense for a wedding to occur at one of the larger, more opulent estates that he owned, but Wintersmith seemed the only suitable prescription.
There was a lovely church just a half mile down the road from it and it would do. Perhaps it was almost careless in the way a marriage ought to occur, but Mason could hardly help it. His only other option was to go all winter without her, without a wife. He could suffer one, but was sure he could not endure both. "I do wonder how Lizzie will continue to take all of it. She is wonderful, but quite selfish at times. I worry she will rebuke the loss of attention on herself," he said with a tired smile, looking over to Georgiana as she continued to rest on his bedside. "Or, perhaps she'll take fancy to being the eldest child. She'll likely lead them all about like she is their governess, I'm sure." He did wonder what type of young woman Lizzie would turn out to be. She was a complex creature, much like Georgiana, who seemed to possess various levels of personality.
It seemed universal in the Osment household, as Georgiana had pointed out, that personalities were strong and defiant. "Hm, it is quite amusing, I think." Near a half hour had passed since her arrival and he glanced back out to the window to consider it.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Her smile only grew as he continued, the thought suddenly so intensely real that she could barely contain her own joy. She had never considered it as something she desired... children. She had abhorred the idea when she had been tied to Collins, because the idea of him being a father had never appealed to her. But so much had changed, and with it, her own needs and desires.
Mason went on, the subject rolling back a ways to thoughts of the wedding, and Georiana's smile only grew wider, "I spoke with her a bit in the carriage on our way here. She seems to have accepted the idea quite nicely. I wasn't sure if I should tell her, but she seemed to need a distraction. She was... surprisingly pleased by the notion, and I imagine she'll be more pleased when I ask her to be a bridesmaid. I know she's young, but she's matured so much, and with Jane to help aid her, I imagine she'll do wonderfully..."
At his next question, Georgiana nodded, "I hate to leave you, but I won't make it through an afternoon of shopping with dear Lizzie if I don't get at least a little rest, and I think I might actually manage a few more hours, with such pleasant things to think about." Her heart was full... fuller than it had been in a good, long while, and rising from the bed, she sighed gently, "I love you so dearly, Mason. Try and get some rest yourself, hmm?"
And with a nod, she released his hand and made for the door.
"Well, I am glad to hear it," he said when she explained how Lizzie had taken the news. After her admiration of Miss Archer, Mason had been hesitant to tell her until he had more time to mull over how best to approach the subject. Thankfully, it seemed Georgiana had broken the subject and it had gone over at least modestly well. He knew she had her heart set on Miss Archer as her benefactress, but perhaps Georgiana would reveal herself to have been the better woman all along to Lizzie in the same way she had Mason. The still adolescent mind of Lizzie made it hard to see past face value of a person, but he was thrilled to hear the news. Eventually, he would talk to her about it, just the two of them, to cement her confidence.
Georgiana interrupted his thoughts and he smiled just in time to clasp his fingers around her hand as she tried to slip away from him. Earlier that night, she had been insistent that she couldn't leave him until she had been sent away, so it was his time to steal just a little more of her time. Taking her hand tighter, he tugged her closer and coaxed her towards him. In any other circumstance, he would have risen to meet her. Alas, he could not as he was too weak, but he did manage to sit up a little further.
It had just been enough to tug her and lean up so their lips could meet in the briefest, sweetest kiss that could have ever been shared by two. "And I love you," he murmured in response. Her fingers were allowed to slip free and he sat back into his pillows to pursue his own rest. "Dream well, my pearl. When you return tomorrow with Lizzie, can you send her in please? I believe the two of us have a conversation to have... just the two of us." Expelling a deep sigh of contentment and relaxation, he sat back and let his eyes close. He was tired-- impossibly tired-- but sleep seemed like such an impossible, horrific thing to attain. Unfortunately, he hadn't much a choice as his body receded once more into sleep.
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
She would not tell him, for it seemed so silly and feminine, and admittedly, somewhat embarrassing, considering the length of her engagement to Collins, but it was the first and only kiss that Georgiana had ever been given, and for a first, could not have been more utterly perfect. Well... she supposed it might have been, had he not been bed ridden from his injuries, but she wasn't particularly picky, all things considered, about the location.
She returned to her room after in a state of dizzy elation and as she crawled into bed, she found it once again difficult to sleep, but this time, at least, she lay awake with thoughts of a more pleasant nature. In but a few weeks, she would marry him, and for the whole of her life his arms would be her sanctuary, his lips her temple. She had never believed much in love, and had, for a time, thought it impractical, even impossible. Yet here she was... only a few months of knowing him, and already, he had translated her...
Eventually, though her mind fought against it, she did drift off and woke sometime after day break. The snow from the following evening had melted, leaving everything damp and cold and ugly, but Georgiana hardly noticed. She dressed, easier, considering she only had the one with her and made her way back down the hall to find Lizzie, first... knocking softly on the door, stepping back as she waited for the answer, before opening it.
"Lizzie, dear. Mason thought it would be nice for you and I to go into town today and do a bit of shopping."
Lizzie had slept through the night but when she had awoken the next morning, she was unsure what to do with herself in the foreign room. She had crept up and from her trunk found her hairbrush, but afraid of being caught and scolded, she scurried with it back to her bed. Sitting up, still in her bed clothes, she worked the brush through her long blonde curls and waited someone to fetch her. It didn't take long, thankfully. A small knock came at her door and she offered a smile, looking up eagerly to see her nurse.
"He said that!?" She cried, ripping back the blanket and leaping from the bed. She paused briefly only to glance out the window, inspecting the frosty morning, before proceeding back to her trunk and sorting through her belongings for a warm, wool dress and stockings. She dressed in haste and worked her hair back into a messy set of braids. "I have never been to London," she exclaimed as she stepped in front of her mirror to inspect her countenance, unimpressed with the response and trying to slick back a few excess strands of hair that went off in their own direction. "I want to see everything," she continued, "see every shop! I'd love a new bonnet and dress... I need one." Lizzie smoothed the front of her dress with her hands, looking back to Georgiana.
"How is he, by the by? Mason? Have you seen him?" Her tone took to unusual concern. She didn't usually sound concerned for anything, but it was evident that Mason's accident had a profound impact on her. Her eyes softened with worry and it was clear she didn't truly understand the gravity of mortality-- to her, Mason was her invincible hero; he was the one person who would always be there, no matter what, and when it was suggested that he may not be... it rocked her. She suddenly looked rather anxious, wringing her hands together in front of her. "Will he be okay, miss Georgie? He'll come back to Wintersmith with us?"
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Lizzie's reaction was two-fold and not entirely surprising. Every little girl dreamed of shopping in the major cities. the clothes always felt so much more refined, and the atmosphere was romantic and fantastical. And for someone like Lizzie, who had such a broad imagination, no doubt it felt like a window to the world. Yet her expression fell a moment later and her tone straightened as she asked over Mason.
Reaching out, Georgiana took hold of her hands, and smiled reassuringly, "He is well, my dear. I see no reason why he should not make a perfect recovery. We'll return to Wintersmith soon... A few days, perhaps. He'll need to ask his doctor, of course. He's had to postpone his trip to Scotland, but between you and me, I'm not sorry for it." Releasing Lizzie, she straightened upright again, "He's asked me to marry him, as soon as we return. He doesn't wish to go off to Scotland before we're wed... Which brings me to a very important question."
Smoothing out her skirts, appearing as casual as possible, she looked at Lizzie as a lady ought to, refined and gentle, "Will you help me find a dress, today? Of course, this is normally the job of a bridesmaid, but then... I will need another, as Jane can't be here for me to ask, and you would make a lovely choice. What do you say? Would you do me that honor?"
The foundation on which she had built her entire universe, the belief that Mason would always be a part of it since he had stepped in, had been rocked. With it, her sense of security felt robbed and her future uncertain. Even with Georgiana's assurances that he would make a full recovery, she couldn't begin to ascertain what his injury had meant. It meant that, perhaps, he may not be there forever. He may not be there tomorrow. What was more, it opened her to the vulnerabilities of all those around her. What of Georgiana? What of herself? Should she too fall prey to a grave injury? Could she die? She shivered at once and returned to staring at herself in the mirror, looking quite hesitant.
So hesitant had she been that she scarcely heard Georgiana's question. She ignored it for a few moments, too busy with her own thoughts before she finally acknowledged it. "What was that?" She asked as she turned from the mirror, "Oh, yes! I very much like the idea of both of those." Picking out a bridal dress, being a bridesmaid. She immediately wondered what she would wear, what the wedding would be like, and who Mason would choose as his groomsmen. Certainly not Mr. Whiporl, she thought. Perhaps that gentleman who had called himself a very dear friend? She couldn't recall his name then.
"We must go at once then!" She cried, clearly eager for a change in her thought. "Perhaps we can even have lunch?" She suggested, looking for any excuse to stay in London and spend any copper she could. She hadn't but four schillings herself, small coin Mason had given her here or there in return for favors, but to her it was quite some sum of money. She hadn't really a clue what was and was not a lot of wealth. All she knew was that she hadn't been wealthy in her previous life, but Mason was.
"Should we bring Mason back something you think?" She asked, pulling on her bonnet over her head and tying it below her chin, "perhaps those tea cakes he likes? Would he like that?"
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Even if it would only last a brief period of time, Georgiana was glad to see that the requests she made of Lizzie were well received enough to draw her out of her fearful reverie. She needed the distraction - really, they both did, and it would benefit them to get away from all of the drama and enjoy a few hours outside their normal routine. It would also allow Mason to rest... which in turn would speed up his recovery.
"I dare say, Lizzie, I think he would..." She nodded to the suggestion. When Lizzie had finished dressing, it was down to the foyer to await a coach, and from there, with an escort in a young stablehand who seemed all too eager to be called away from mucking out the stalls, they were off to the shopping district. In little rush, except to eventually get back to Mason, she took her time, letting Lizzie explore the shops to her heart's desire.
It was in a small boutique gown shop where she found her dress, a simple affair in ivory organza, with delicate Venetian lace along the collar and hem, and trimmed about the sleeves. Round the middle was a lovely blue sash that bowed in the back. The dress was purchased for a small sum, then sent ahead to Wintersmith, where it would await their return, for she was far too nervous about losing it to leave it in London.
After finding Lizzie a few new items of her own, Georgiana agreed to warming up over lunch in a small, homey cafe. They were settled at their table near the window overlooking the water, and to their backs a roaring fire heated the room, and Georgiana's half frozen hands. After ordering a coffee and scones for the both of them, she glanced to Lizzie with a small smile, "...This was fun. I'm glad you came, Lizzie."
Lizzie's pleasure had been exceeding when they had ventured to London. There wasn't a step she had taken she hadn't relished. They wove in and out of shops and she gasped at the beauty of near everything—for everyone knew all the best and newest fashions came from London. Certainly they had, for she couldn't see anything as breathtaking and lovely as the garb she saw in the boutiques there. Gown after gown, frock after frock… each one trimmed with lace and hem that was astounding to her watchful little eye. They were much more beautiful than anything that could have been bought anywhere else and reminded her a great deal of the dress Mason had brought her back from Paris.
She had begged him then to take her to France, but he had declined, noting that he would take her but only once she was older and ready to travel. London had been a decent enough substitute for the continent, certainly, and by the time they had found Georgiana's dress and had it purchased, she had worked herself up quite the appetite. Lunch was agreed upon and by the time they had settled into the café, Lizzie with a hot cup of tea nestled between her hands, she sighed contentedly. Bags lined her feet—a few new frocks, a gemstone bracelet, two new pairs of slippers, and a straw bonnet.
Her loot was an impressive load and she was sure to show of everything she had received to Mason once they had returned. In the meantime, however, she was comfortable in the café with Georgiana. Her eyes had taken on a tired gaze, a sleepy smile working its way across her lips. "This was very fun," she agreed wholeheartedly, "I wish I could come to London more often, if I were being honest. I like it here very much. It's much more exciting than Wintersmith!"
Wintersmith in and of itself was pretty close to London, though he owned one estate even closer. There had been a decisive reason he had selected Lizzie to go to Wintersmith instead, of that much was certain. If she were able to reasonably walk to London, she may very well try repeatedly… so Mason had discouraged the disobedience by moving her too far from the city to be walked.
"Are you going to tell Mason about your dress?" she inquired, "Or will you leave it a mystery?"
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
She seemed worlds better than she had that morning, and Georgiana was glad for it. While she understood that Mason wanted Lizzie to grow into a respectable and dignified young woman, it was important to remember that she was still, in a lot of ways, a child, and while difficulties and tragedies could certainly mature a person, they could also break them. She wanted Lizzie to strengthen and grow, too, but she didn't want to see her so destroyed by the world that she couldn't enjoy the life she had in it.
She chuckled at Lizzie's exclamation, shaking her head, "I imagine it's not nearly so fun to live here, as it is to visit. I'm sure it would get tiresome after a while, and eventually you might run out of places to go. But if you visit, everything feels brand new, each time." Smiling, she took a sip of her coffee, "And we're close enough to Wintersmith that you might be able to visit at least once or twice a year. I'm sure Mason would enjoy the trip."
It was nice, to think of the future... particularly after the trying journey they had, worrying over Mason's health... whether he'd even make it home to Wintersmith. Lowering her cup, she shook her head with a small, sly grin, "Oh, I'm definitely leaving it a mystery. It's bad luck, after all, to see the dress before a wedding. Do you think he'll like it? It's quite pretty... Probably the prettiest dress I've ever owned." She had never considered herself a frivolous person, and when she had been engaged to Collins, she had been quite indifferent to the idea of weddings, but the more she considered hers to Mason, the more exciting it all seemed.
"Hmm. We should see if we can find some tea cakes and head back, soon."
"Oh no, I imagine living in London will be quite thrilling," she explained with a small, whimsical smile as she glanced back and out the nearby window. She adored looking down on the streets below and watching the steady stream of carriages and people going by. The men in their top hats looked quite handsome and the dresses of the women were among the most stunning she had ever seen. Not a single being seemed out of place to her, all was so beautiful in her rose coloured glasses. She never was able to see the impoverished people strolled up and down the street, begging. She didn't see the slums or the run down buildings-- she could only see the grand clothes, the stunning estates, the glossy carriages. Sighing, she looked back to Georgiana. "Some day I will live here, I think," she explained once more, "I think I'd like it here."
Of course, she didn't really understand what it meant to be an adult, but she let her dreaming brain go on and on. "I wish!" She laughed, "Mason is always busy, it seems. He always has somewhere to be and says I can't go until I'm older! He says meetings and business would be boring for a little girl, but I think he should let me try," she gave a smile, "maybe you can convince him I'm grown up enough for business meetings!" She giggles and sipped her tea, excitedly tucking her legs beneath her when they talked about the dress.
"Oh yes, it is beautiful. He must love it! My, I will have a wedding dress just like it someday!" In her head, she could already picture herself being wed. She could imagine the dress, her hair, the giant affair... of course, the idea of marrying a man rather disgusted her at the age she was, but the dressing up apart appealed to her.
"Yes, perhaps we should," in all her daydreaming, she had finished her tea without even realising it. "I love it here, but I am getting quite tired indeed."
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Nodding Georgiana smiled, "Perhaps you shall. You seem made for it, my dear Lizzie. That city life." In many ways, she was so like Mason. Every aspect of her seemed in some way tied to the brother she never knew she had. But there were those traits that were just all her own. She was so bright and warm, a social creature, who thrived on all things frivolous and shimmering. Perhaps she truly did belong in a place like London or Paris.
That said, she was young yet, and with maturity came certain social graces one might lack as a child. Patience for one, and the understanding that life did not revolve solely around material things. She would grow to learn the importance of being good and honest and wise, "Ah. I think his business meeting are too dull for even my tastes..." With a small laugh, she finished her coffee and rose, "Come along. Let's see about those tea cakes."
It was another twenty minutes yet, but the cakes were finally found and purchased, and they piled themselves back into the carriage, with the warm scent of rosemary and the small mountain of Lizzie's purchases between them. When they arrived, Georgie unwound her scarf and pulled off her gloves and cloak, then handed the box of tea cakes over to the parlor maid, asking that they be brought up to Mason for tea.
After, she turned to Lizzie with a smile, "Right then. Would you like to show him what you've bought?"
They had ventured back to Warway and Lizzie seemed reluctantly glad for it. She didn't want to readily admit that she was exhausted and had grown weary of London, in fear that she would be disallowed from going again because of it. She was tired, though, and was ready for the comforts of something familiar—a daybed to rest upon, more comfortable slippers to slide on. They drove up the drive and when they stopped in front of the main stoop, she stepped out. The footman began to immediately bring their bags and carts inside while a maid had begun to pour of tea and coffee cakes, first for Mason's delivery, then for offering to both the ladies.
Pleased at seeing the pile of her loot grow in the foyer floor, Lizzie smiled. She had nearly forgotten all that she had bought and went at once to shuffle through the various boxed sealed with lines of ribbon and silk. "I think he'd love to see!" she exclaimed excitedly, "I will perhaps even show him the dress I got for your wedding, since you can't show him your wedding dress until the day of the wedding," she pulled it from its box as she spoke, holding it up to herself. It was a pale peach in colour with all the trim, buttons, and lace a little girl could imagine. It was quite over-the-top for most, but it suited Lizzie's personality just fine. With it, she had gotten a matching pair of slippers and a bonnet, as well as a shawl (she had argued it would be cold and she needed it--- needed it).
At her begging, the poor footman sighed and agreed to bring all the boxes up to Mason's door. The tea had just been delivered and he was standing in the doorway with a cup of tea pinched in the hand of his uninjured arm, brows raised. He had gotten up for a few minutes to stretch his weary legs and had slipped a little, tan tunic on over his bandaged shoulder and chest. All the while, he watched in surprise the steady stream of new purchases arrive at his threshold.
"My, Miss Lizzie," he commented, leaning his good shoulder in to the doorframe and hooking his ankles. He looked a little pale in the face, his eyes without their usual shine, but he seemed comfortable enough to be on two feet, "What is all of this?" a soft chuckle made its way from his chest, a rare sound coming from the man. "I see I will be unable to buy you anything for the next year."
