#earlharcourt

Queen Charlotte was officially opening the season and of course, that came with the queen's usual splendor but this season was different. Of course rumors had come out that the queen was officially bringing one of her daughters to court and given her previous over protectiveness, it was quite the rarity.

As the Queen was announced, everyone turned to bow and go catch a glimpse of the princess. Many unmarried men were in attendance to offer themselves up to the princess, to gain such a rare chance of catching her eye. It was all rather desperate, or so Richard thought. Once the queen took her place, the music began and the overeager gentlemen suddenly lost their tongues. Richard had to stifle a laugh at the scene but decided to get a glass of lemonade before the circus truly began.

Richard was sipping his much needed drink when he almost dropped his glass at the near miss of a collision. “ It is me who needs to apologize, I was clearly in your way.” Richard returned the princess’s smile with one of his own. He could feel the envious stares from other men who seemed to forget that Richard was newly married and happily so. “Lord Richard Harcort, Earl of Harcourt.” Richard bowed. He wasn’t fond of using titles but given he was speaking to a princess, it was needed. “If you may allow me to ask, your highness, how are you finding the ball?” He assumed many had asked for a dance or two or did the idea of having to please the queen scare them off?

Marina inclined her head in acknowledgement. “My Lord Harcort, you are too gracious, I’m sure. The fault was mine, but as no harm seems to have been done, and I have been given the opportunity to make your acquaintance, we shall count it a happy accident! One can only hope all follies lead to such an ending,” she smiled.

She accepted a glass of lemonade from a passing tray, her green eyes sweeping the room once again. “One spends so long dreaming of this moment,” she replied thoughtfully, taking a sip of her drink as she took in the lights, the sweep of the dancers, the music and the soft perfumes filling the air. “And then quite suddenly... it’s here. There you are. Here I am. ... and words... fail to describe it.” Her grin broadened, and for an instant, she seemed no different than the other debutants, clustered in wide eyes, giggling groups throughout the hall -- young, bright, excitable, full of delight and expectation. “I find it absolutely enchanting! And how are you liking the evening so far?”

It was nothing new for Ernest to get carried away when he chose to indulge. A bottle of wine or two with some drops of laudanum in the mix, well, evenings like that were always amusing in the present and quickly forgotten the day after. He was smiling, a rather contented look upon his face as he sipped on his glass, grinning at the absolute chaos he had managed to ignite at Brooks’. 

It was really quite easy to do. Knock wine over on one of the patrons, pass the blame upon someone else, stand back, and watch them bicker. He hadn’t intended to knock over the wine but he couldn’t say he regretted it, there was something so amusing about the outrage of others. 

“I tell you it wasn’t me!” The accused man spat indignantly. He looked away from the wine-soaked man and his eyes fell upon Ernest, swaying ever so slightly and so visibly smirking. “It was him! He was right here, don’t you see? I tell you, it was him.”

Laughing, Ernest gave a wave of his hand to quickly dismiss the accusation but seeing more pairs of eyes turn upon him, well, it seemed that didn’t work. He raised his glass. “My apologies, spills are prone to happen at such an hour, wouldn’t you say?” He grinned then took several large sips from his glass. “I shall go, best of luck to your poor waistcoat.” And so said, he turned to leave, knocking straight into someone and consequently, spilling more wine, this time on himself as well.

It was the first time he'd been at the club in a while and yet it remained a wonderful way to escape his mother, who, between talking about how separate homes would need to be found because she no longer feared leaving him on his own (Which, where did that come from? He'd been to war, he hardly needed his mother to fuss after him) and how nice it would be for William to settle down, had driven William to a point of unspeakable irritation.

Not all parents were so vexing, he was certain of it. And he wasn't being sensitive.

But beyond his mother, there was a certain small part of William that remembered the bets about the Griscomb sisters and wondered idly if there had been any bets on him and what might have been won.

Perhaps those thoughts explained his distraction, shoulder catching on that of another man. "Ah." William's apology died in his throat when he turned enough to see who the other way. "Harcourt."

@earlharcourt​

Not even fifteen minutes after their arrival and they had found them - the swarm of young men and women alike who were in some dubious relation to his younger sister.And Edmund wondered if this was perhaps the reason she tended to stay in the countryside during the season. Still, who could blame them? Philippa was a young woman of great beauty and charm, and relatively high social standing, as the Countess of Bridgewater.

Still, the excited chatter around him very rudely interrupted his internal conflict, contrasted his sombre mood, and had he known Philippa’s little club of admirers was in attendance, well, he would’ve gladly sat the luncheon out, moping and sulking at home.

A muttered excuse, Edmund looked around when, finally, his gaze locked on a familiar face. “Lord Harcourt! I do not think I’ve had the time to congratulate you on your happy union yet.”

three words :

(Also sent by @themarquessofislay)

For the most part, Lydia likes to live without regrets. Any wrong decision she’s made has taught her a lesson. If she had to pick something, she would say she regrets not being more involved in her marriage. The union she entered into with Heathcliff was a blindingly toxic one, and she was blind to it.