Katherine was in a constant state of anxiety. Her skin was crawling and she felt the need to rip herself apart to free herself from the terrible feelings burdening her. For a while, she was floating from room to room, checking in on her family. When her first father died, Kitty had become very attatched to her mother. Never leaving her side, even climbing into bed with her and sleeping with her because the fear that she may die too was so great. Those same thoughts and fears tormented her once again, and she snapped at any of the well-meaning servants who suggested she go get some fresh air.

If she stepped away for a single moment and another person she loved died? Kitty was certain she would die right along with them.

However, she was finally coaxed away after a long day, a headache, and bloodshot eyes. She went out to one of her favorite places in the garden, her beloved koi pond. In her hand, her father's pipe. She would always sneak it out of his study when she wanted to go to the tavern, but smoking in the garden was the next best thing.

As she puffed away, staring at the fish who swam around so peacefully, muttering to them in Cantonese, she saw a shadow appear. Kitty coughed and dropped the pipe to hide it safely away and tried to blow the smoke away.

"What?" She snapped, looking over at the person now.

Never in her life has Tessa ever felt some helpless and unsure of what to do. It felt like more often than not, she simply going through the motions of what she normally did on a day to day basis, she anticipated what the house might need, she tried to be silent, invisible, helpful, even working on her off days just to make herself useful. Her heart ached though, for all of them, but especially Katherine.

When she noticed her lady not in her room, she had gone looking for her, but spotting her through a window near the koi pond, she gathered a tray of tea and treats before moving to give them to her outside, a tray that was almost dropped as Katherine snapped.

" Apologies, my lady. " Tessa is quick to back away a step and lower herself into a low bow. " I meant not to startle you. I just brought a blanket and a cup of tea should you wish for some. " She set them down besides her lady, taking a step back after bowing again.

Then, Tessa paused-

"As Cornelius' eldest son you inhert his title and seat under rules of primogeniture. Your step-mother is protected by a jointure and should you wish it, you may request that she move with your sisters to a dower house," the laywer says but Tobias doesn't take it in, he can't focus on anything and looks around the room to see a sea of faces all around, lingering at the sides and watching him more than they did before and it was grating on him more than anything else.

There's more talk about property and customs but instead of waiting to hear more patiently, he abruptly gets up and makes quick movements out of the room, noticing someone followed. "If you're here to talk about antyhing related to Lords and seats be quick or speak of something else," he snaps but its clouded in an a croack of his voice, overwhelmed by everything around him.

In all of the time that she has worked in Mayfair, she has never experienced the death of one of her employers before. Death she was very, very accustomed to, but this was worse, hard. She would rather repeat her own loss over and over again than see anyone in his household suffer. Other servants whispered their concerns about being replaced, but Tessa could care less about that. Her one and only concerned was the man who suddenly thrusted with all this responsibility that he never wished for in the first place. He had been locked in meetings and so she had not gotten the chance to check on him, but seeing him step out, Tessa took her chance, thinking about turning around as he snapped, but she held her ground.

It was clear that Mary wasn’t well, but it didn’t gain her any sympathy from Dominic. Her words fell flat, knowing all the while she said things like this and still held this control over Frederic. It took everything he had for Dominic not to laugh at the reminder of Mary’s current status. She was the diamond of the season, named by Whistledown, and no match was in sight. "Multiple people saw you conversing with Frederic at the ball, and it wasn’t just in passing.” Dominic had no time for her lies or excuses. He was a busy man and needed this sorted. “If anything continues with Frederic, I’ll cut him off and cast him out.” Dominic hated saying the words. His voice wavered for a second before he quickly recovered, but Mary needed to know this. “If you don’t believe me, ask Miss Dempsey,” Dominic said, straightening his back. “She came to me for funding for a school; I agreed but refused her because of you. Don’t ruin another future, Mary, especially not my brothers.” 

She did not know what she had to do to earn Dominic's favor, though truthfully she had given up trying. He hated her. He would always hate her. Now, she simply was too tired to care, to even feel rage. " Yes. " Mary says as if it is the most simple thing in the word. " If it would soothe you, I would. I will even let you read it before I send it, or you can take it to him. " She said, meeting his eyes. " You do not want to kick out your brother, and I do not want any ill to happen. I want the best for him, for Edgar, for you, especially as you are about to begin a new life as a husband. " Mary's expression is blank, calm, reserved, even as he continued speaking. All she did was sit back and watch, listening him, expression unchanging. She only looks away to cough into her arm for a moment before her gaze raised again. To her, Dominic was a cruel man, she did not doubt that he would ruin his own brother just to keep them apart, though hearing it was a different matter all together.

Aera always found art very calming for herself. When she needed to decompress after a long day she would doodle around her written out thoughts or take out some clay and sculpt whatever came to mind. On this particular day, she decided to go to Mayfair's art gallery she had grown fond of.

A sense of peace washed over her as she quietly wandered the rooms, eyes fixated upon giant paintings and sculptures that were so easy to admire. She took her notebook out while looking at a particular piece, scribbing out her thoughts. A shadow appeared next to her and she took a gentle step to the side, her eyes focused on her notebook as she wrote.

"I hope I am not in your way. I just- I needed to write out my thoughts. This art is beautiful, no?" She asked, just briefly looking over at the other person. "The colors, the texture, everything."

Sometimes on her days off, though not often enough, for some in her life might argue that she ought to do so more, to break out of her routine, Tessa took moments to explore Mayfair. In the years that she had been here, she had never been inside of the Halcyon Art Gallery and so after a stressful week, Tessa thought to treat herself. Inside, she felt somewhat as she did at the ball, feeling like she did not belong, but she recalled how much she loved painting in her childhood, how good she was at it.

She was so lost in her admiration that she almost bumped into one of the patron's but thankfully, they were more attentive than she, and she stepped aside, muttering a soft apology and thanks before following her gaze to the work of art.

The engagement between Dominic and Leonora had been announced. The morning of the announcement, Dominic informed his mother, but she wasn’t exactly pleased. Instead of offering her son congratulations, she offered him criticism. Leonora wasn’t the Murray she wanted for Dominic, but Dominic explained his reasoning. Leonora had experience in a royal court, managing a title and estates. France was different to Ireland, but Dominic had every faith that she would make the perfect marchioness. A title his mother never received, and Dominic always assumed that was the reason for her resentment. His birth meant he was Daniella’s heir, not her. He wouldn’t apologise for that. Dominic was doing what he was born for, what she had him do. 

Dominic already knew today was not the day to remain at home. The lord wasn't sitting; he had no morning appointments to attend to. His brothers couldn’t be found or didn’t want to be. For the first time in a while, Dominic had time. He decided to stop by the hosier's with the sole purpose of looking for an engagement gift, something he could give his future wife without knowing too much about her. It was the way things worked in society. Inside, the hosier was cool and quiet. There was a faint smell of lavender that filled the shop as Dominic paused before the glass counter. Gloves were displayed beneath it, all made with the finest silks and embroidery. One pair caught his eyes. They were ivory lace day gloves with seed pearls sewn in. Behind him, the bell rang. “Maybe you could help this lord decide on a pair." The shop keeper said to whoever was standing behind him. Dominic stepped aside, his eyes not leaving the pair he’d focused on. “What do you think?” He asked whoever came in, “Are these a suitable gift for a future wife?”

There was never a dull day working for the Thornes and specifically, Katherine. She loves her job, she has never been happier in a position, but she still enjoys moments when she has tasks that take her out and away from the household. There are already several bags in her hands as she made her way into the store, a list clutched in the other, already reminding herself what she needs to get here, though the call of the shop keeper catches her attention, though for a moment she does look behind her to see if someone else was coming in as well and he was talking to them instead of her.

manicured nails flip the sign on the shop's entrance to announce it's opening for the day, carefully adjusting the pink and golden welcome to sit perfect within the window of the front door. reaching up, liliana flicks the bell to ensure maximum ringing was available for her customers today - she had a good feeling about today, perhaps it was because lulia had woken her with a sweet song of their homeland. patting down her skirts, the florist took a moment to admire the turquoise silk embroidered with silver and pink lillies along the edges - a gift from one of her customers - looking at her, one would never believe her to be simply a commoner.

the scent of fresh flowers fills the shop as liliana inspects each one of her blooms, collecting the ones that have become weak, wilting or simply faded. if she is to appear the best and become a supplier for the ton, she must show perfection. elegance. success.

"bună dimineaţa," her mother tongue escapes her lips as the bell rings above the door, quickly discarding of the bad flowers in the small back room hidden by a velvet curtain. "good morning, i mean," her accent is thick as she looks to her customer, a charming smile brightening her features as a twinkle shines in her eyes. "are you perhaps seeking a bloom to convey a message to someone or simply to decorate one's home?"

a servant has so little time to themselves, and so tessa had made sure that she was at the shop as early as possible so that she could make the most of her day off and that she could deliver the flowers where they were meant to, buy some things for work before hopefully finishing the day at her dearest friend's shop if she was not busy or reading if she was. she was moving quick, a habit of a girl whom works, though the greeting and the woman's smile give her pause.

" bună dimineaţa. " tessa echoes with a kind smile and a bow of her head. " i... well, i have a rather large ask, but not a lot of coin, so i suppose first i should ask if you have any discounted flowers or ones that are not faring so well that i can get for a lower price. " an embarrassment ask, but for the sake of her coin pouch, she had to try.

(starter for @dreamspenned)

Venice, past midnight, by candle-guttering hand

🀢🀣🀦🀤

My dear Lady Moon,

I have before me, upon this scarred and paint-stained table, some seven-and-twenty of your letters, each sealed with a wax so violently red I might have mistaken it, in a kinder mood, for a wound. I have not opened them all. I confess I have not the stomach for it, nor, tonight, the sobriety to pretend otherwise, for I write to you now with a glass of something Venetian and unwise at my elbow, and so you shall have honesty instead of manners, which I think you have earned, though perhaps not in the way you’d wish.

You must stop writing to me. I say this not with cruelty, though I know it will land as such, a stone dropped into the still water of whatever hope you have been nursing these long months. I never promised you the moon, Madam (forgive me, I could not resist it, even drunk, even now) I promised you only what I had: a body glad of yours, a summer’s worth of stolen hours, and the ferocious joy of two women who understood, without the tedium of saying so, that neither of us intended to stay.

You knew this. I was not coy about it, I have never been coy about anything in my life save perhaps my own heart, which I keep concealed, not for shame but because some things are simply not for viewing.

I will not pretend the nights meant nothing. That would be its own kind of lie, and I find I have grown tired of those, other people’s and my own alike. I remember the rain against your window in Mayfair, the windows clouded by winter while the fire made a liar out of the cold, and how you laughed low in the dark, and how briefly, blessedly, I forgot to be anyone’s daughter or anyone’s scandal. I remember it fondly, Lady Moon.

But you have mistaken fondness for a foundation, and built upon it a whole cathedral of expectation, and I cannot live in it. I do not want the letters, the waiting, the ache of being missed as though I were a fixture of your life rather than a season of it. I came to London and left it, as I always do; I did not think you would mistake my leaving for a puzzle to be solved by sufficient correspondence.

You ask, in every letter, what changed. Nothing did and that is precisely the tragedy. I do not love as you require; I have attempted it once or twice, years before your name ever crossed my threshold, and found the enterprise unsuitable to my temperament. Love builds houses where I have spent a lifetime learning every road that leads away from them.

You have persisted in believing that if your devotion remained steadfast enough, eventually I should wake one morning transformed into the woman you deserved. My dear Lady Moon, if that miracle were possible, it would have occurred before now. 

Instead, you have sent page after page chasing a woman who has already departed. Venice receives your words, but the woman for whom they are intended has long since wandered elsewhere. This reply exists only because I have been foolish enough tonight to mistake wine for courage; tomorrow I shall likely regret having answered at all.

So let this be the last of it. Not out of anger, for I find I have none left. You possess a heart inclined toward devotion, I bid you to guard it more carefully than you have guarded it with me. Spend it upon someone who delights in receiving letters instead of stacking them unopened beside jars of turpentine. Find a woman who counts the days until your arrival instead of the hours until her departure. She exists, I am simply not she.

I wish you no sorrow beyond that which time inevitably collects from us all. I wish you every happiness that does not require my presence to sustain it.

Do not write again. The silence between us has finally learned to say everything that neither of us wished to hear.

Starlight

🀢🀣🀦🀤

Sealed with little care and abandoned on the windowsill, the missive waited to be rescued by a mailman long accustomed to Francesca’s habitual disorder. Yet fate intervened; rather than reaching Miss Moon, the lavender envelope found its way into the hands of a certain maid.

The moment that she had opened the letter, a surge of guilt had filled her, for in her excitement at the idea of having mail for her, she had not thought to check and see whom the letter was meant to find. She had stopped reading before the letter's end, quickly sealing it back into the lavender envelope with wax and getting the largest envelope that she has, slipping both the letter that had found its way to her and her own inside along with a few dried sprigs of lavender.

Dear Starlight,

I do apologize for my opening and reading part of your letter, but I am not someone who receives mail all too often and in my sheer joys of seeing a letter for myself, I could not help but tear it open in my excitement. I read only a bit and then the bottom so I knew who to address this to, and for that I extend another apology, but I do wish to tell you I am so deeply sorry. I have sealed and return it to you in hope that it may find the sender it was meant to reach as well as some flowers for you as a means to hopefully atone for my error.

If I may, along with my others, I would like to apologize for whatever hardships lead to your letter. Though I know that you only have my word to take me for and nothing else, I do promise that I have only read a bit of your missive, though your words touched and saddened me greatly.

Matters of the heart are not something I am versed in at all, but many of my closest friends have suffered great heartache and I personally know loss. I hope that wherever you are going and wherever you are going next, you find love and joy again, if not with a partner ( though I do know the loneliness of lacking one well ), then for yourself.

Step forward, starlight, into the day, treat yourself and take care of yourself. Trust your heart. Chase your dreams and your joy.

Wishing you all of the best.

Signed,

Now that Kitty was allowed to spend money again after spending a whole week of being good and nice, well, she was going to take advantage of it. "I think I will look at the hats first. I need a new hat." She declared to Tessa as she looked at herself in the mirror while the other did her hair. Katherine was normally quite talkative and her tone peppy, but ever since the ball she was a little more subdued with annoyance laced in each word when talking to her lady's maid.

It had been strange seeing Tessa at the Gemstone ball. They didn't speak, but Kitty had made eye contact with her while talking to someone else and it just struck her. Why was Tessa there? How was she there? It was absolutely bizarre to her. Tessa was her lady's maid, and although she would never say it out loud, she was a pretty good one. Very diligent, a hard worker, not to mention she put up with Kitty and her moods very well. But... that didn't mean she could just show up to a ball! Who did she think she was?

Her eyes lingered on Tessa's face, remembering how pretty she looked all dressed up with flowers in her hair. Ugh. "Are you almost done? We cannot dilly dally." She said sharply as she fidgeted with her necklace.

Tessa did not and would not speak upon it, but she knew that Katherine had seen her at the Barnett ball and she could tell that had irritated her. It stung a bit, but Tessa had a very thick skin. She had faced worse than this coldness and as long as it would not cost her her job, she would bite her tongue. Instead she worked, face neutral, making notes of what she said would please her and hoping that whatever this displeasure was would fade and fade soon- before she asked what exactly she had done to make Kitty so mad. She was allowed to have a life outside of her job, she was allowed that night of joy and awe at the ball, even if she had not been invited to attend twice, she still deserved that moment of bliss.

" It is getting warmer, my lady. A new hat or a few new hats would be a wise thing to have. " Tessa agreed, finishing up her work just before Katherine's words. Tessa bit her lip, taking a step back and bowing. " If you are pleased with how you look, then I am complete. I apologize for my slow pace. " She said easily while still lowered.

|| LOCATION || Thorne Residence; drawing room

Genevieve was not used to waiting. That wasn't to say she did not possess the patience to do so, but she had a preference for punctuality when it suited her. And when she planned on visiting someone. So, as she sat in the Thorne's drawing room waiting for Miss Thorne, legs crossed and eyeing her cuticles, her patience was wearing down the longer time passed. No longer was she interested in the way the sunlight danced across the pristine floor or the hint of reflective pink that hued the room from the thick curtains. At this point, it had already staled.

The doors opened and she perked up, though it wasn't Miss Thorne. But it was someone she certainly recognized. The shape of her face and gentle set of her brows prompted the princess to say, "You are the woman with the beautiful blue dress from the ball. The puffed sleeves."

A smile made its way across her face. They hadn't been able to speak to one another much during the ball, as it had ended with a quickness when Genevieve spotted her. But she never forgot a face when she cared. Taking in Tessa's current attire, she tilted her head and said, "You are employed by the Thornes? For how long?"

Despite having done nothing wrong, the moment the princess looks at her, she feels like she has been caught in a lie. Most don't recognize her, for she is more of a smile dandelion among the many blooming suitors and debutants, even at the ball, she had tried to be something of a wallflower for both her sake and Tobias', even though she had the princess' invitation, she did not want to draw too much attention to herself. And yet, this woman remembered her. It left her shocked, terrified, soothed only somewhat as she smiles.

She did not comment on the fact that she had attended the ball, but she did answer Princess Genevieve's question truthfully and honestly. " I have been employed by the Thornes for a few years, your highness. " She answered, a small smile finding her way onto her lips, polite despite it's meekness. This was her job, and she was already certain her lady was not too pleased with her having been at the ball, it would be best not to speak on it much.

Where: Barnett house Who: Grace & Mary

Grace paced the soft carpet in her bedroom, stopping only occasionally to listen to the sound of the house settling in for the night. The muffled sound of doors closing far off by the servants' quarters barely carried all the way to her bedroom. Her white nightgown floated over the carpet, making her look like a restless ghost. It was ironic. Because Grace wasn't the ghost in this house. Mary was. A ghost of the sister she once knew. As the barely older sister, Grace had pulled away in an attempt to grant Mary some space. But after running into Dominic and confronting him in public, Grace knew she needed more information. She needed truth. A reason that went beyond what Dominic had shared with society.

The flick of her wrist on the matchbox produced a faint flame that lit up the determined features on her face. She transferred it to the candle on her dresser and blew out the match. The candle painted her golden and made the blonde curls falling over her shoulder look like they were alive with fire. She stopped and listened one final time before putting her hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly and quietly.

For Mary, nights had often been less about sleeping and more for her various evening activities ( writing before her engagement broke off, sneaking out in men's clothing to plays, to speeches, to taverns turned to wailing and pacing and breaking down after it broke off, and now, she is staring at the walls and holding her pen again ). Though time changed, her stance on the dark hours being wasted extra hours of the day did not and she lived like the creature of night and shadow in her books, more alive in the dark than she ever was in the light. Tonight, she had been trying to write and for the first time in months she had finished a chapter, two, three, almost a fourth when she heard her sister's knock immediately and did not hesitate to sit from her desk and tuck away her novel in it's usual hidden place.

" Dear Gracie, you should know by now you never need to knock, nor you are always welcome inside of my room. My hiding place, my sanctuary is yours as well as mine. Always. " She said before she had even opened the door, and as she did, there was a gentle smile on her face, taking her sister's hand in one of hers and guided her inside, the other closing the door again.

Despite being awake, there was a certain weariness within Mary, one that had been lingering within her since the ball. Ill , perhaps, though she had yet to call it that, ever stubborn despite her state. The diamond of the season could not have time to sleep or for weakness and, more importantly, neither did Mary Barnett. There was always a task to do, something that needed to be done and Mary would see it done. Right now, that task was caring for her sister and making she ailed well.

|| LOCATION || The Dempsey Cottage

Days of feeling under the weather and lost in her own stresses, Mary would eagerly take any sort of good news that she could get. Work had been one of the few places she had actually been since the ball, for despite the weariness that had set into her bones and spread through her like a heavy shroud being draped over her, she remained as hardworking as ever, if a bit more quiet. Ceara's simple promise of good news made her raise her eyebrows, though, as she continues, Mary cannot help but drop her smile somewhat.

her engagement to lord dominic had changed her from the widow returned to england to the betrothed of one of societies bachelors - and to some, an unsufferable man. leonora knew little of dominic, but she held no negativity towards him and perhaps she was using him as much as he was using her: he needed a wife and she needed to escape the disappointment. a win-win.

so she walks slowly through st. james' park, the midday sun peeking beneath fluffy white clouds and creeping through the tree branches that stretched overhead. her garden was one solace, but the parks of london held fond memories for leonora. she brought herself to a stop to admire a blooming hydrangea bush before noticing the dropped item, collecting it into her hands and looking for anybody nearby. "excuse me, have you dropped this by chance?"

Since the ball, despite knowing it would do her some good to go out and promenade, Mary had mostly kept herself in her house, though ever the wanderer at heart, she could only stay homebound for so long. She was hoping at the hour that she roamed the park would be empty, but of course she hadn't been, and of course she had been so lost in the book she was reading while out that she had not noticed that she had dropped her bookmark until a young lady was calling out to her.

Dominic was plagued by Katherine’s words. Mary and Frederic are planning to elope, both clearly conversing despite Dominic’s rules. Frederic was to keep his distance from Mary or Dominic would ruin her. He didn’t take any enjoyment from it, but he wasn’t the type to fail on a threat. The house was transformed back into its simplistic form. There wasn’t any gemstone-decorated room; there weren't the opulent displays. It was stripped back to its mediocrity, which would’ve made Dominic laugh if he weren't here on pressing issues. It didn’t take long for Dominic to be received by the footman and escorted up to the drawing room. He didn’t sit. Dominic just stood in the doorway, waiting for Mary to be summoned. If Katherine were right and an elopement were the plan, it was useless talking to Frederic. Mary could be the only one to see sense.

When Mary walked in, Dominic said nothing. He refused the drinks offered by the footman, nor did he offer any polite greeting to her. “I apologise for the intrusion,” Dominic says with no sincerity, "but I have an urgent matter to discuss.” Dominic let his words hang in the air as he studied Mary and her potential reaction. “I’ve been informed that you and Frederic have been in contact, but you also plan to elope.” There was no question yet, just a man stating facts. It was like he was in the house of lords, gearing up to debate a bill that no one wanted. The Barnetts weren’t dim; they were clever enough to lie once. Dominic knew they’d all lie again. It was in their nature. “If you do this, or continue whatever this is with Frederic, I promise there’ll be consequences. " Dominic wasn’t threatening. He was stating facts as plain as day. He didn’t want any misunderstandings, and this was the best way.

Given Whistledown, Mary should have expected a visit from the oldest O'Connor, though it still took her quite a bit by surprise when she had been told that the gentleman was here to speak with her. She had still been in her sleeping clothes, pondering what exactly had been in the man's head that sought him to come here where she was certain he was treated with nothing short of coldness by staff and her father's should they have come to speak with him. Could this have been handled in a letter? Hence, she had hurried to get dressed quickly and head to meet him.

who: harriett & mary

where: barnett household

Harriett ran to her sister's room and climbed onto the bed. The latest issue of Lady Whistledown's Society Papers was in her hand. "Have you read what Lady Whistledown has said this morning?" she asked, blinking at her sister.

She usually paid no mind to the gossip, except when it came to her family. Of course, the focus seemed to be on Mary's broken engagement, rubies and garnets and awkward moments in dancing. She tucked her legs under herself, not really giving her sister a moment to respond.

"She really has a lot to say about us, doesn't she?" she asked, wrinkling up her nose.

To this day, Mary still did not know why Lady Whistledown had given her the supposed 'honor' of being the diamond of the season and she was still almost sure it was someone trying to spite her and ruin her, though she was beginning to care less and less for the gossip column, especially in the wake of feeling unwell, despite it, Mary still moved to embrace her sister tightly .

" I have not read it, nor do I care to for she, or whoever Lady Whistledown is, is no one but a cruel, conniving beast of a woman who I will no longer give my pen money to. " Mary sighed leaning against her sister. " Pay no heed to the witches cruelty, my dear Harri. She pokes us because we are easy targets to society, and now she can write about us more now that she has named me the diamond. I am only sorry all of our family now, for we must be more careful than ever. "