K I T, N I C K & W I L L

"I rather suspect that is no longer an option. If you fail to express an opinion to me and my colleagues, someone will quickly fill the space to assign an opinion to you. Look at Lady Whistledown, give her the smallest space and she will fill it with rumour and conjecture. I believe that everyone's voice matters, everyone's opinion has value. Even I can admit, however, that yours carries far more weight than most. It seems safer to speak in your own words, rather than risk someone else speaking for you."

Will topped up his teacup from the pot, he was not a graceful drinker, gulped more than he sipped, holding the cup by the rim rather than the handle. He suspected he should try harder to mirror the manners he so often saw from others but could not bring himself to care once he became animated.

"Not useless, that is high praise indeed," He joked, his easy smile a clear sign that he did not actually take offence, "I may have to use that as my slogan ahead of the next election."

Will thought for a moment before answering her question, "Power is, I think, a complicated thing. it has too many forms for two people to engage with it meaningfully and not risk talking past each other. Power of property has dominated our lives for a long time, ownership over something allowing someone to dominate another. Power of personality is another thing entirely, and perhaps more imaginary as you suggest. We all have it in some form, over others and over ourselves, perhaps what matters is how we use it once we get the opportunity. Do we coerce, do we compensate, or do we transform?" He stares off into space for a moment, as if trying to find his own thoughts. "I need to maintain my power source if I want to do anything. But I like to think I might be capable of the latter."

Everyone knew that Lord Thorne favoured his daughter, Kit, and any talk about Kit was always positive and there was a lot said that made it seem people hoped she would be the next Earl, not her brother. A Viscount was below an Earl but it was still a title and offered power. She had another motive. The family was known for their wealth and Kit would be a wonderful person that Marie could see as a daughter. 

With her blank parchment in hand, Marie uses it as a perfect excuse to talk to Kit. “Miss Thorne,” she sighs putting on an exasperated look but with a warm smile. “I’ve been staring at my parchment trying to write anything down but I can’t think of anything! Can I be bold and steal any ideas you have?”

She is distracted, therefore, when Marie first approaches, taking a moment to fully engage with the woman in front of her. "Lady Winchester", KIt said, jumping to her feet and offering a curtsy, "I apologize, I became a little too caught up in my own thoughts, I suspect I am not supposed to be taking this activity quite so seriously," She offers a warm smile, genuinely thrilled at the opportunity to talk to a woman she had long respected from afar.

"It surprises me that you are struggling, If the root of good poetry is having a perspective and something to say, you would be one of the first in my mind to overcome the challenge!"

"Perhaps both of us have found something rather irresistible tonight which we would not want to become more common knowledge," She gives a rather meaningful look to his bruised cheek. "There is a safety I believe, in being out at this time of night, the one thing we all have in common is that we would rather not tell tales of what we saw when we were out, lest we have to explain what exactly we were doing."

Nalan's charm had always endeared him to her. Kit respected the intelligence it took to move through society with easy graces and a complimentary air. That did not mean she trusted him. She suspected Nalan could be a rather dangerous acquaintance. Previously this had gained her respect, tonight it led to her distrust.

As a son of a farmer, Rhys knew the troubles of the farmers. He hadn’t been home in years, but he knew their struggles continued. Now that he had a title, Rhys wanted it to do something good. “I need to ask if parliament has any plans for the farmer’s rights and trade reforms.” It wasn’t an appropriate question over tea, but Rhys couldn’t stop himself. “I only mean that I’ve seen this happen in Pembroke; the lords buy up the land and rent it back to the farmers at sums that no hard-working family can afford.” Rhys stood forward, letting the worries overtake him. Instead of being graceful, Rhys took a tray with him, and it clattered on the floor. Even when other gentlemen snickered at this, Rhys kept his eyes firmly on Will. 

Many of his colleagues may have regretted such cordiality once the man's rather direct question followed. Will, however, was relieved to have someone who wanted to engage in real, important conversations. "I may not be the right person to ask," Will said, feeling rather guilty, "Most of my time has been taken up with the petition from many of the merchant class to lift our tariffs on tea and textiles." But he knew exactly what Rhys meant. Had himself witnessed his own father's struggles as a farmer.

"But I can say I am in support of further progress on it. As is, to my best understanding, the Minister for Agriculture. It is the other members, and the House of Lords, where there is the most resistance. There are far more people in parliament benefiting from the lack of protections than there are hardworking people being displaced by them. You may find more success progressing the reforms if you could drum up some momentum with your peers amongst the Ton. An activity I would be very willing to help you with."

He couldn't believe what he was seeing, someone actually alive and not about anything in society or matches or Whistledown and there was such a strong energy that he couldn’t help but be drawn into it. “When you first started, I thought it would be as simple as the most popular person gets the votes but all these extras make sense and make it more complicated. And interesting!” he adds, quickly, but with a fascinated smile on his face. 

“Don’t worry yourself,” he says shaking his head as he rummages in his pocket and puts some money on the table, making a show to Mr Beaumont and nodding to it so that it wordlessly said that the money was for the cost of the menu. What he put down was more than what the menu was worth but he didn’t care and wanted to hear what Will said without worrying about a glaring owner. 

“I agree but I can’t see Whistledown writing anything other than gossip. Maybe you could? You could be sneaky and come up with an arrangement for the printers to sneak in your writings inside her pamphlet. You’d be her enemy but maybe she’d learn something from your work.”

"Oh - they're almost guaranteed to all be offensive, that's politics, but there are degrees of offensiveness, hence the aim of arriving at the least offensive candidate, rather than the best!" Will was joking of course, mostly. "The best advice I can give you - avoid all politicians at all costs. That includes myself!"

Will looked back at the defaced menu unable to keep the slight smile of his face, "absolutely beautiful!" he said with a shake of his head, "It's just a pity we'll never see it implemented. The real magic of it is that it would give smaller candidates too much power. Established candidates and their patrons could actually face a real challenge from independent citizens."

Will was a little taken aback when the man placed money on the table. He was still surprised every time he saw money used as something disposable, rather than precious, but he wasn't going to question it. "Thank you. I actually think I would have been very sad to have to erase this scribbling. I'm rather proud of it, in some strange way. But..." He glanced around, catching the owner's eye once more, "You must let me order us a pound cake to share, as a thank you!"

Laughing, Will shook his head, "Something tells me the Ton is far more interested in gossip than politics. But perhaps I could have a few more of these flyers printed... slip them in the Whistledown deliveries and hope some people read them by accident? If I'm lucky a few may even read past the first line!"

"It is not as dense or dull as some other books I have read. Perhaps we could all use a book that may make us laugh. I will admit that some of it went over my head, but I did enjoy it. And future sister, Miss Nita Bruce, she enjoys it as well."

"But that is a good sign, I think, for you and your future family to have similar taste in books? Not that I am one to judge, the closest I have been to marriage was acting in my school's version of Romeo and Juliet, and we all know how that ended... in our case it was with a very unconvincing final monologue in front of a crowd of laughing students... Still, I have heard enough people complain about the families they marry into to think this may be a very good thing for you!"

“You think so? I haven’t heard one good idea but that could be that he isn’t making his voice loud or interesting enough to be heard by people beyond the front row. If you’re right about his ideas being good, maybe he should have someone speak for him. Or maybe that’s already been proposed to him and he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to be in front of a crowd.”

But the more they spoke, the less Will listened to the man in front of the rally, Will let out a sigh, "Although perhaps he would be better off accepting that he cannot command a crowd, and finding someone who can. It can be hard to give up credit for your ideas, but even if he shared the stage with someone more engaging, he might get further."

But who had told? She chewed on the inside of her cheek worriedly. Perhaps Kit? Or was it the age old assumption news travelled through the grapevine of staff more than anyone?

Nita thought their household ran quite well and the ‘upstairs and downstairs’ got along amiably. She didn’t have to cast her mind back if she’d been rude to any of the staff because she made it a point not to be. Everyone in the house was a person, regardless of a Bruce surname or not.

With Father’s gambling and financial accounts exposed, what secrets were left? They didn’t have many left by the looks of it.

She huffed, only half convinced at his attempts to assure her reputations weren’t riddled through, and tossed the crumpled paper at the waste paper basket where it annoyingly bounced off.

“What does the rest say?” She eyed the other half from her perch. “The mentions you spoke of? Did Whistledown write you in a more favorable light this time?”

This was upsetting Nita, more than he had expected, and his easy, teasing expression quickly shifted, although he did not move from his relaxed pose - arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe.

Perhaps for that reason, he did not tease her anymore, and instead complied when asked, smoothing out the paper to carefully read aloud the mentions of their names. "She writes of me winning the maze, although quite embarrassingly she seems to know how much help I had. I do still wonder if I owe Mr. Edward Murray a portion of the prize - £25 seems fair, but we really could use it all for Vitoria and Nathanial's wedding..."

He pressed on. "None dressed as sharp as Nathaniel Bruce, clearly inspired by the Cheshire Cat and he was noticed playing the Vanishing Shot game... It cuts off there, perhaps the rest is on the side you just threw away? Although I cannot agree with Lady Whistledown saying Nate was better dressed than I."

"Ah, here we go, this part may be of interest - It seems the Princess has been dabbling in other’s affairs with the Bruce family catching her attention. One does worry if this means Miss Nita Bruce will also catch the princess’s eye, we all know how she likes competition. Could it be that Miss Bruce is the princess’s own jewel of choice, and what will this mean for Miss Aera Lytton? Was this planned then Nita? To wow the princess and usurp the Queen's own choice?"

what: waltz and writings (barnett house)

Harriett would have fussed more about her dress if she hadn't just been scolded twice. Being ladylike wasn't her strongest skill, but at least she could fit a book somewhere in her bodice (she had figured it out) and people watching was a good way to pass the time during a party such as this one. As poetry was being read, she did her best not to roll her eyes too hard.

She let out a laugh that was a little too loud, and the eyes landed on her. Blushing, Harriett looked at the piece of paper she had spent the morning scribbling on. "Roses are red, violets are blue, those flowers in your hair don't match your shoes," she murmured mockingly.

“You think that?” he asks, genuinely surprised and touched that someone from his family saw that he had a reason to escape. It's so unexpected to him that he actually stops in his tracks and has an almost pleading but stunned look on his face. “About wanting to escape the family. It wasn’t about you or your mother, or our sisters, it was about all of this,” he gestures back to the family business but it's a confused movement because he’s also gesturing to the clothes he’s wearing that their father had made. They looked very much like a gentleman would wear, fitted and stiff. “I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t resent you when I was brought back here.” His voice was hushed, low and serious. “I did and it wasn’t fair or correct. I didn’t want any of it but it was just…” There’s a frustrated quick sigh before he carries on. “When I left, it was only him, my mother and me. It wasn’t as warm as it is now and my mother tried, she really did, but he and I would argue constantly and I was more rambunctious than I am now if you can believe it. That didn’t help things. I knew he saw me as a possession to mold into what he wanted and when I was back, it was strange to see the place so different and him happy. I know I rejected this life and I really do not want to be the next Earl or head of the family but it was a confusing thing to see you all fit so perfectly and accepted it. Then I came barrelling back in,” the last part he offers with his boyish grin, stretching wide on his face. 

Hearing the m word, he can’t help but groan and dramatically throw his head back. “Ah, I think the Whistledown comments about you are helping,” he teases and gives her a playful nudge, smirking and raising his eyes to taunt her like a brother would. “If he thinks you’ve got a prince interested then he won’t push you in case it scares the royals away. Enjoy the peace!”

The no-planning approach had got him, in his view, where he wanted to go. For the most part. And it was good to hear that it made Kit laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who plan every single thing? One day I’ll have to try and make you go an entire day not planning and trying things without thinking. It’ll be fun! We could do it in disguise!” Maybe dangerous but memorable. 

Silently, he passes a thank you for her not pushing but mostly because he knows it wouldn’t take much to get him to open up. “I used to draw a lot on the ship because we could have a lot of downtime and it wasn’t always drinking and singing. Do you ever do anything with art? I don’t think I know your hobbies.” That was a sad thought. “I discovered I wasn’t terrible at it in Nassau but that was when I’d stopped travelling and had more time on my hands and you know I can’t keep still.” It was always a problem. Not something he thought Kit had, he thought of Kit as someone so sure and knew what they would do. 

“Like they were flying or that they would vomit from the exhaustion and I’m sure some of them died in the journey or more did than was expected.” That life was dangerous but such a thrill. “Where is the furthest you’ve ever been?”

"Perhaps we needed someone to barrel in. We were all playing pretend, at least in part, hoping that if we all wanted it enough, and played the roles we had found ourselves in with enough conviction, all of the rest would sort itself out. But life doesn't work that way, certainly not when there is a single voice and vision everyone is trying to mould themselves into." She hadn't stopped, didn't know how to secure her place without reflecting back exactly what Lord Thorne wanted from her, but she was beginning to realise that she wouldn't be able to pretend forever.

She cannot hide her grin as Tobias gives her a playful nudge, "Yes, that has all worked out rather perfectly. Who knew Whistledown could be used to spread helpful rumours, as well as harmful. I rather suspect that development took even her by surprise." It was easier to pretend that she was in control with this whole affair with Nicolas, rather than admit that this whole thing felt like the most dangerous, out of control, irresistible situation she had ever found herself in.

"You can try - but I suspect I will still find a way to plan. You'll think we've had the most amazing, spontaneous day, and never realise that I have perfectly planned the entire thing behind your back." The sound she lets out is half sigh, half laughter. "It is an affliction, I'm afraid, being this tactical. I cannot think of another way to be."

Kit let out a small shrug, "Those of us raised to be perfect ladies do not get to have hobbies - we have accomplishments instead. My governess taught me to draw, and sing, and play piano - all with the intention of being displayed, rather than finding joy or purpose. I think now I rather hate them all. But dancing I have always loved, even when they were trying to train me to focus only on how to best display my posture while on the dance floor, I could not be convinced to find anything but joy in it."

Shaking her head, she let out a genuine sigh, "The only country I have seen other than England is Wales, and only because it is just over the border from our Shrewsbury estate. Otherwise, I think the furthest I have traveled is York"

"And what a great mission that is indeed!" Aera said with a chuckle as she looked down, her eyes meeting the man's. Her lips parted slightly as he stared at her, a feeling of warmth washing over her. He had a most attractive smile, lopsided and charming. She couldn't help but smile back as she shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

"William Percival?" Of course she knew him, knew both of them. He was the man that always brought along his canine companion- though she never saw her until now, only ever heard her- to the meetings in Parliament. "Pleased to meet you. I am Miss Aera Lytton." Keeping her Parliment life and her Debutante life separate was already difficult, and it looked like now it would be even more so now that Mr. William Percival and his adorable dog had quite literally run into her.

Now that Keun Gae was free, he barked and went into a playing bow, making her huff out another chuckle. "I am pleased that our dogs seem to like one another. It looks like Keun Gae wanted to come play with dear Billie!"

That, he told himself, was the only reason he cared that this woman knew his name. What other reason could there be?!

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lytton," He frowned slightly as if recalling the name, "Of the American Lyttons?" He asked. He was not well versed in the English families of the Ton, but he had taken a keen interest in the arrivals from America and India.

Will laughed at the dogs' behaviour. "Keun Gae has much better manners than Billie. We should encourage the connection. Billie could do with someone to set a better example for her!"

YOUTH AND INEXPERIENCE HAD PUT PIET IN A SITUATION SUCH AS THE UNFORTUNATE STRANGER THAT HAD BROUGHT THEM TO THE DOOR. It was not sympathy that started to take root as an emotion but instead it was an understanding and a touch of envy of those times long gone but enjoyed that was felt instead. 

The hand was taken and firmly shaken and not let go when the name of a family Piet knew came from the lips, names that Piet knew and had taken extra interest in. The surprise of it had faltered the mask that kept all emotions in check. A recognition, surprise and interest in its place instead. “I have met your cousin on a number of occasions and know of their reputation being one reverence from all society. It is curious that someone with that repute would have a cousin running from someone.” Piet’s eyes studied the face and there was a resemblance but the prying stopped when he moved his hand away. “There are some features you share with your cousin.” Yet something so odd that Piet could not place was taking hold in the mind, something that wondered if there was more to James and the cousin. 

That didn't seem to ring true, however, and James could only wonder exactly what in his statement had caught Peter's attention in such a way. "The benefit of being from the poorer, lesser-known side of the family I suppose" James said with a shrug, "more freedom to do with as I wish. Sometimes that means more fun, other times more trouble."

James followed happily, rather curious to see exactly what sort of work Peter had in mind for a person who was 5"3' and looked like they'd grown up in a household which never required them to do manual labour "I'll have to aim to surprise you then!" They said, "I'm ready for whatever you throw my way!"