Forever Her Poet

His mouth curved upwards, as Frederic joked and declared that it was Edgar's duty to entertain him. "Ah. At last, my true purpose in this household has been acknowledged. I shall inform Dominic at once that I am not useless, merely specialised." He let the joke sit gently between them, easier now that Frederic's tears had slowed. It was always easier for Edgar to joke, than to be sincere. It had especially intensified since Edith's death.

Edgar looked down at him sharply. "You have met Genevieve?" Embarrassment warmed the back of his neck almost at once, spreading to his cheeks. Of course Frederic had met her. Of course his brother had been sitting there with that information while Edgar spoke of curls and collarbones like a man freshly struck by lightning. "You are a viper," he said, though there was affection in it. "You had a weapon this entire time and let me continue humiliating myself." But beneath the fluster, something gentler settled in him. Frederic was teasing him again. Not cruelly, and not to wound. Only as his brother. After the tears, after Mary, after all that hurt, Frederic had still made room for Edgar’s happiness. That humbled him more than Edgar knew how to say. He cleared his throat, not being able to help himself. "Was she- did she mention me?"

His expression shifted, hearing Frederic believe that this with Genevieve was his first time being in love. "No this- this isn't the first time." For a moment, the room seemed to change around him. "Many years ago - when you were still at Eton - I thought I had someone. Are you familiar with the Pembroke family? Their daughter, Clara and I were- well, we had- It was my first year, and I was naive, and certain I could charm my way through the whole ordeal, until I met her." His mouth curved faintly, without much humour.

"And then I met her, and I danced with her more than I should have, looked for her in every room, convinced myself it was nothing until it was far too late to call it that. By the time I understood I loved her, she had chosen someone else. Some baron with better sense, better prospects, and far less nonsense attached to his name." He looked down at his hands. "That is why I stopped dancing at balls. Everyone thinks it is theatrics. Perhaps it began that way. But after Clara, dancing felt too much like making promises the world could break before the music ended."

"i have. The last time she was over' he said- his sad, bittersweet look left once again at the expense of his brother. " Wellbeing. "Sardine was in the part of the house he wasn't allowed, and your lady found him," he tells him. He gives a slight smirk at being called a viper. "I wanted to know what you'd say if you thought I hadn't," he hums.

He plays with Sardine's paw for a moment. " Did she bring up the man she was spending her evening teaching?" He wondered playfully. "I don't know. What do you think, my dear brother?" He asked him. "it’s a wonders i know how both of you feel for each other" he teased him- clearly Genevive *did* speak of edagr to him. " i did threaten her that if she broke your heart she'd rue the day. she took it rather well" he added. "a strong girl."

"Hmm...." He listened to him. He frowned because he didn't like how he spoke of himself. Some baron with better sense, better prospects, and far less nonsense attached to his name. His brother had sense- he had great prospects! Nonsense only added to his character! Anyone should be glad to have his brother as her husband. His frown turned more into a scowl as he thought about Clara and having his brother think that there are men better than him.

"I till stand by my words, about her being a first” He said. " I think loving someone and being in love with someone is different," he told him. "Did you love Clara, or were you in love with her?" He asked. "If Genevieve did this to you...would you act the same? Would it feel like your heart has a hole rather than breaking? You can fix a broken heart. You can't fix a gaping hole as easily"

"Well, it's rather a dramatic way to deal with heartache." He shook his head a little. "But I see your logic . " He thought for a moment. "Are you...going to dance with Genevieve then? " Do you think she can make a promise can keep it when the music ends?"

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.

He then sees Kathrine...It made him roll his eyes. He paused because he was simply walking past- he wasn't planning on talking to her. He scoffs alittle. Though in the back of his mind, That's how he acted too when his ma died.... It's almost like looking in a mirror.

"Is that how you greet people now? "He asked as he stepped closer to her. His hands were behind his back. He looked at the water and saw the koi fish. " You'll scare those poor fish with your screeching”

Genevieve decided she properly liked Frederic. Not only was he set on trying to be somewhat kind to her, he also had an unwavering loyalty to Edgar, strode to protect his heart. Even if it meant protecting his heart from her. "Well, most cannot handle the other side of you long enough to experience this side," she reasoned, more genuine than she expected to be.

His wisdom settled in her bones. There was no one else she could listen to who actually had Edgar's best interest in heart from truly knowing him. Not from what others expected of him, not from what they heard. She trusted Frederic's word because he saw every version of Edgar, and loved him hard regardless. She wished for Edgar's happiness and nothing more, so the thought of him not moving on was as painful as him finding another. Her heart had never been in such a conflict. Not truly.

The words that came were definitely not English. But she recognized one word: tráthnóna. Evening. Sighing and allowing her shoulders to slump, Genevieve adjusted Sardine in her arms. "I suppose you are right. I will try to tell him after the fair. I...I do not want to shroud that time in pain. Not yet. Will you be going to the fair?"

"I don't mean to say it to be mean. He could move on- he could reject you, but it's something you have to be ready for. You wouldn't want to live a lie with Edgar. Wouldn't you like it better if he knew? It'd feel better to spend time with him. if he was with you in truth," He said while he crossed his arms.

"It's not supposed. I am right. I only ever speak the truth when it comes to my brothers." he scoffs a little. " I'll give that to you," He tells her. He can tell how much she loves his brother. He knows it'll work well with just time..."Do not waste time with him," he hums. 'I don't know...I might go to the fair." He shrugs. "Those things aren't really something I enjoy"

Looking at Frederic gave her pause. His downturned mouth, confused furrow. He wasn't judging, didn't seem inclined to. Instead, he was concerned about her. And suddenly, she understood her mother's embarassment when Ceara caught her crying. Letting one's defenses down in front of someone they want to protect was a sign of failure. She felt she had failed him without so much as a quiver of her breath at the mention of his ridiculously selfish and tradition-bound brother.

"If I am up to it, I will be there. Perhaps I will find you, and we can discuss the animals and how you felt doing the work I gave you. Does...that sound suitable?" The lump in her throat made it nearly impossible to let the words come, but she managed.

He waited for her to speak because he wasn't sure what to do- what sorta of thing would comfort Ceara? he almost regretted telling her, but...maybe it's better this way. What if she had found out in front of other people? In the middle of a busy street?

He moved closer to her once he had fixed up his bad. he held onto her shirt for a moment to make her look at him. He wasn't planning on going but..." Hopefully I'll see you there,"  He said, hopeful as he let her go.

~~~~~ Time Skip to the First Day of the Fair ~~~~~

Frederic remembered why he didn't really want to go to the fair.  He was standing at the entrance of the fair, unsure because if the few people he did know were here, there was no point in going. A fair with loudness and games wasn't his cup of tea. He wasn't interested much in animals either. He'd rather be at home writing or reading a book.... He only ever went to the fair to spend time with Mary- which makes his chest ache. He remembers all the fun he *did* have because he was with someone he loves. It was always to enjoy things like this with her.

He sighs because he thinks he should just go home instead of moping, but then he turns to leave. He saw Ceara walking towards the fair, so he stopped moving, waiting. "Oh, so you did decide to come," he said when she got close enough. "Are you feeling...well enough?"

It takes everything in Mary most days to not linger in this spot in wait to see him for a moment in their drop off spot, though she supposed doing so would ruin the whole purpose of them having a secret spot for their letters. Daily visits where she would both find and leave a letter should have been enough, and even if she wanted to, she couldn't risk stopping through multiple times a day. Truth be told, she was somewhat worried about whether or not her letter- a whole eight pages of paper filled front to back- would even fit in the small spot, Mary had spent the whole trip bouncing between making sure the hat worn over her hair covered it all and her jacket and pants were sewn decently enough as well as trying to figure out how she would make the envelope fit- something she was relieved to find out she did not have to figure as she rounded the corner and saw him.

" I suppose we had the same idea, my dear poet. " She laughs, looking around once, then twice, before she ran in his direction, gripping onto the fabric of his top tightly as she embraced him, letting her head hit his shoulder before shifting onto her tip toes and letting her temple rest to his.

For a moment, Mary is still, silent before she lets go and pulls back just slightly, holding up the thick envelope. " I might have gotten a bit carried away today. It.... Well it has been a day. You shall read about it when you read all of that. " She holds it out to him with one hand, the other reaching for his cheek. " ... Just seeing you has made it a bit better. I have missed you. " His words she loved, but they were not the same as seeing, feeling him. Fingers brush at his cheek, confirmation that he's here, he's real, this fond smile stretching upon her lips.

He knows it's a stupid thought.  

He tries not to linger near the spot too often. He wonders if his brothers thought it was odd how often he leaves to visit the garden....

He hoped to meet her here, but he knew it wouldn't be wise. He loved her letters- how much she loved him in each of her words. He doesn't need to hear her to know. His letter today was longer- much longer than the letters before. He was worried it wouldn't fit.

He let out a quiet surprised noise as his top was grabbed and he was spun around. He didn't need eyes to know who it was. His arms get wrapped around her. He smiled as he finally met her gaze. He pressed their forehead further against hers.. His eyes softened while he's finally able to look at her.

"It seems you aren't the only one " He tilted his head towards his letter that was on the ground. He ignored the letter because the real thing was always better. It was almost as long as Mary's letter.

"*Tá mé i ngrá leat" He held her hand, not caring if the letter fell or not." I've missed you too...it's been too long," He cooed softly as he leaned into her hand for a moment. He sighs contentedly before kissing her palm." You are leaving soon, aren't you?" He asked because she once left. He won't be able to get any more letters for a bit of time.

He looked away at once, but not quickly enough to hide the smile that overtook him. Frederic had asked about Genevieve, and that had an apparent effect on him. "Oh," he murmured. "So now I am to be the entertainment." Still, he did not refuse. The moment her name entered the room, something in him seemed to answer it. "She is from Artois, near Arras. She speaks of it sometimes, and it sounds like a dream. She collects seashells." His smile deepened. "I think I should like to help her grow that collection." Then the warmth dimmed slightly. "And her father is not kind. Or not kind enough to her, which, to my mind, is the same as being the equivalent to a Byronic villain. I have not met him yet, of course, but I have already decided I shall make him kinder. Do not ask me how though; that plan is still forming."

A faint laugh escaped him, then faded into something quieter. "She has this curl," he confessed. "It never behaves. It falls before her hazel eyes; though hazel is too plain a word for them. They change with the light, as though keeping secrets from everyone but her." His gaze drifted toward the window. "And every time that curl falls, I want to put it back where it belongs. Teach it obedience, though God knows I have never taught obedience to anything." His voice softened. "And while I am there, I want to touch her cheek. Reverently, you understand - as though Christ Himself carved her out of heaven, and I have somehow been permitted near enough to admire the workmanship." The confession left him briefly breathless. He looked back at his brother, brighter and undone all at once. "She makes me want to be careful," he admitted. "Not dull, or proper, God forbid. But careful. With every part of what this entails." A small, disbelieving smile touched his mouth. "There. You may tease me now, but please be kind, this is all still new to me."

At least someone believed him.... It made everything easier.

"i'm sad; it's your duty as my brother to entertain me," He tells him simply as he wipes at his eyes for the last of the tears. He listened to his brother, and he couldn't help the soft smile on his face. He's never heard his brother like this before. When has he ever sounded so happy? His voice had warmth in it that he's never heard before. He recalls Dominic saying that he made Edgar happy. He doesn't believe that. This is all Edgar is doing... It only makes him worry further about how Edgar will act when he learns the truth...He just hoped he wouldn't fall back into old habits. "You do have a habit of making people kinder. Perhaps you can do it," he tells him, as he thought about it" Or you'd take her away from that. "

"That's a lot of big words for you to use. it's nice to know you can wax poems about a girl," He teased him. "Though I wish I had heard this before I had met her. It would have been very useful to embarrass you in front of her," he said casually. He had met her the last time she had come over for a lesson, of all things....he hasn't informed Edgar of it. "Pity, I'll just have to use it next time," He said as he lifted his head to look up at his brother.  

He gives him a pointed look. "You think I'd be unkind? That I'd tease you over falling in love properly for the first time at your grown age? That's a mean thing to do," He said as if he were not very spiteful and rude when he wanted to be.

Tonight's production of As You Like It by William Shakespeare had been nothing less than extraordinary. Especially if one were to ask Miss Grace Barnett. Theatre was her first and only love, and As You Like It was one of her favorite plays. There was something so liberating and enticing about Rosalind escaping into the forest, disguising herself as a man, and speaking with her great love without him even knowing. Perhaps it was Rosalind who had first inspired Grace to sneak out in disguise to attend poetry nights and public readings of newly written scripts. Or perhaps she had loved Rosalind before the idea had ever occurred to her, because somewhere deep down, her soul already knew she would one day attempt the same.

Nevertheless, it did not matter, because tonight she was not in disguise. She was out with her father, who, after days of pleading, had finally agreed to take her. She had worn her best dress, and her blonde hair was pinned tightly into place so it would not fall loose and distract her as she took in every word, movement, and emotion from the actors on stage. Yet her greatest accessory was the glow upon her face and the spark in her eyes after witnessing such a spectacular performance. The characters had come alive in a way she had never seen before. Theatre Royal could never, she thought to herself.

"Oh, Father! It was wonderful! The actress truly understood Rosalind and her fire, her drive! And the comedic timing was beyond comprehension. The energy and presence of the actors were fueled by a true passion for the art. Nothing like those stiff attempts at acting that the Theatre Royal prides itself on."

Her excitement had gotten the better of her. She was rambling. She had been so certain her father was beside her, but when she turned around, he was gone. She must have drifted away from him, too caught up in her own amazement.

How wonderful would it be to see all your hard work play out before you?

It'd feel like seeing someone out reading your book- he had once seen it. Someone reading the published work he was part of. to see slight reactions to the words on the page.

Nothing could really beat the feeling of sharing his passion and seeing the reaction to it all.

He wasn’t going to change to just plays, but he did want to try it out…..

He hadn't noticed Grace Barnett at all too much in his own thoughts about the play and everything involved in it. It only took a few moments for him to realize she was speaking to her father and not him, but the man was nowhere near. good. He felt dread facing the man- He hadn't seen him since... He shook his head.  

"Your father got distracted, it seems," He said as he had his hand behind his back. He was once friends with the Barnetts. It feels odd interacting with them. He's almost on edge, and he wants to bite Grace out of reflex.

If he looked back, he could see that the older man was stuck talking to some other lord. How boring. "How troublesome and boring"

He moved closer, but carefully, lowering himself beside Frederic rather than looming over him. His gaze flicked to Sardine, tucked so loyally against him, and his mouth softened for only a second before he looked back at his brother. "I do not think you ruined her," he said quietly. "But I understand why you are frightened. Truly, I do." He swallowed, hands resting loosely together. "I understand that it is different for you. With Genevieve, I am allowed to be happy. No one is standing over me threatening to punish her for it." His voice gentled further. "You are trying to love Mary while feeling as though every step toward her might harm her. That is not the same thing. I should not have spoken as if it were."

The room felt very still after that, save for Sardine's purring. Edgar let the silence sit. It felt kinder than filling it too quickly. When Frederic said it hurt, Edgar's expression folded with something close to helplessness. He was not good at this. Not really. He could charm a room, improvise a lie, turn embarrassment into entertainment - but sitting beside someone he loved while they broke quietly apart made him feel clumsy in every possible way. "I know," he murmured. Then, after a small breath, more honestly, "No. That is not true. I do not know. Not exactly. But I believe you." He reached into his pocket and drew out a handkerchief, offering it without forcing it into Frederic’s hand. "I believe that it hurts that badly," he said. "And I believe that you love her. You need not convince me of that anymore." His gaze lowered briefly to the floor.

Edgar sighed, not with irritation this time, but weariness. Dominic had become such a controlling force in both of their lives. "I wish I knew how to make Dominic hear you. I wish I knew the exact words that would soften him. But I don't." He looked back at Frederic then, quieter and shifted slightly closer, enough that Frederic would know he was not alone, but not enough to crowd him. "You do not have to know what to do tonight," he said. "You do not have to decide whether loving her means fighting, or waiting, or letting go." A faint, careful smile touched his mouth. His voice softened. "I will just sit with you, if you'll have me."

His eyes flicker over to him when he sits next to him. " I did ruin her. Dominic will find out, and he'll make it hell for her," He said weakly. He was being selfish- not just from kissing her but in so many ways... He was always softened and disarmed by a soft tone. He never did well with a harsh hand, even if Frederic seems to give that to others. "You don't understand. " You say you do, but you don't," He said, trying to sound harsh, but it was anything but that.

His cat's purring was the only thing grounding him. He sees the handkerchief. He took it carefully and wiped at his eyes. It was embarrassing how the tears kept falling.  "No one believes me that I love her," He grumbled, sounding upset. "Everyone around me is convinced otherwise." He didn't know what he'd have to say for Dominic to just believe him.  

"I wish I did too...he thinks He can make me happy." He frowns because he hasn't been happy at all ever since Dominic chose his path.

"I think I  do know what I must do," He admitted quietly. He felt Edgar move closer to him, and he allowed it; he didn't flinch away. He wiped at his eyes again. He carefully leaned against his shoulder and sighed. "I'd like it. I don't want to be alone." He never does.

"So...as much as I enjoy my little pity parties," He said, clearly trying to change the subject. He still pressed against his brother with Sardine in his arms. He was still purring against his chest. Freddie made this all about himself. He hadn't meant to... "Would...like to tell me more about Genevieve?" he asked. He wanted Edgar to be happy, and he liked to hear about it even if he wasn't happy himself. "It won't hurt my feelings since I asked about it first," He added quickly before Edgar could say anything about it." This will give me something to tease you about," he sniffled a little.

"damaged or not, no piece of literature should find itself fallen." leonora held a lot of respect for books, always had, and already she was eyeing the edges of the books in case there was anything unseen to the naked eye.

"again, i apologise, sir." she flushes out of embarrassment at her scolding, almost feeling like a child being found in her father's study beneath his desk. "you would be surprised at the obscurity of animals when away from mayfair..."

features soften as she thinks of ceara, "i am off to visit a friend. we drink tea and she allows me to explore her herbs and flowers for research."

"Well, as long as you're careful next time," He slightly huffed before he looked over towards the ducks. "I've been on this route a couple of times now. There are a lot of animals," he agreed. He doesn't think much of the wildlife....He has a lot of things he's focused on rather than animals.

He nodded. "I see, so you must be going to Ceara's house." He frowned. "I help her with her students...sorta a teacher's aide." He winced slightly because he knew Dominic would not like hearing that, but at least the girl in front of him would not be telling Dominic.

If hearing his brother was engaged wasn’t worse, hearing it was one of her new friends made her stomach bubble with nausea. “She’s a friend of mine,” she managed, voice trembling. Not only was there pain, but anger simmering there. Of all the women he could have possibly chosen, and it was someone she shared her home with and a harmless, platonic companionship. And now, it was completely ruined. Dominic had stained the relationship before it blossomed into true friendship. And Nora was the gentlest soul in Mayfair. If she knew Dominic, he would eventually wear that down or allow it blossom should he come to love her.

With a shaky breath, Ceara promised, “I won’t say anything. If…If it is in the paper, I will abide by hearing it from there. You have my word.” She approached the bench again and began trying to gather her things with shaky hands. “I need a moment to breathe. I…you may bring that paper back with you tomorrow. I’m…I am so sorry.”

"I see..." His gaze was sad for her. Of course, Ceara had befriended her. Why wouldn't she do that?  He had hoped she wouldn't know her- or only know her in passing...it's much worse if she were friends with her. Even more so given that Frederic doesn't plan to be kind to Leonora.

He stands up when she begins to gather things. "I'll work on it later today," he said, he carefully put the paper into his bag. He held onto the messenger bag as if trying to figure out how to handle seeing Ceara like that. He saw her hands shake. "It's alright...it is a lot to take in...there is a fair coming up. Maybe that would make you feel better," He offered after a moment. "Seeing animals always makes me feel better..." he trailed off. He didn't want her to just think about that. There are always things that are better to think about.

As she listened to Frederic, she frowned. She did offer a pitying stare, as that was demeaning. But the reputation of his brother had affected him negatively, and that was not something to ignore. His question only prompted a nod. Genevieve worried about people liking her as a child, but it had diminished as she grew older. With Edgar’s presence in her life, the urge to be liked bubbled to the surface more than she could comprehend. “You did not deserve that. Despite your bratty behavior, you are wonderful to be around. Lord O’Connor and you are not the same, even with my cruel words about it, which I do apologize for. I was clearly wrong.”

Since their conversation began, she had grown quiet and soaked in his words. But the offer of Sardine made her perk up. She reached out and scooped the cat into her arms, scratching between his ears with two fingers. Genevieve’s heart roared in her ears but ultimately, she nodded again.

“I do,” she confirmed. “My worst fear is losing him when…when things have hardly began. Do you think he would find someone else if…if he did reject me once I told him the truth?”

Just the concept made her belly turn and tears well in her eyes. Genevieve hated crying, but not being able to love Edgar as purely as she wanted stung more than the fear of her eventual confession.

He shook his head. "It's alright. It's in the past- I bring it up because I understand a little" He shrugs. "It's hard knowing what other people want from you...when you've got a title looming over your head," He said as he stepped closer to her. He slightly smiled at that. "Well, most wouldn't be saying that about me." Wonder to be around? He doesn't get that often....not that he really helps.

"He might move on, but that's something you'd have to figure out if you're willing to be honest. That's something you'd have to deal with..." He thought for a moment. "Perhaps, I don't think he'd move as easily." He hummed. " Dá fhada an lá tagann an tráthnóna." He says, before he realizes she might not know what he's saying. "No matter how long a day, the evening still comes," he translates. "It means no matter how bad things are, they will end," He hums. " A new day will come, and you'll keep going anyhow. even if it means you keep going without Edgar or not." He really should take his own advice, but it's always easier to give rather than take it.

Their family still had influence. They still had their paper, and Dominic wouldn’t hesitate in using it again to bring Frederic crashing back into reality. Mary wasn’t suitable; he just needed to get over it. “Then why risk it?” He asked, curious more than accusatory. 

“I don’t need her approval because if this fails, if this marriage isn’t successful, then it falls to me.” Dominic couldn’t just marry anyone. He didn’t have that luxury that Frederic and Edgar had. “Mother thinks she’s the one who should approve of Leonora, and she’ll soon get over that idea.” Dominic muttered under his breath. Their mother had already said she didn’t approve. Leonora was too far removed from the duke’s title and assets, but she was Dominic’s choice. Dominic could marry a princess, and still it wouldn’t be enough because it was his choice. It’s just another argument between them. “Have you noticed how happy Edgar is with Princess Genevive?" Dominic asked, trying to catch Frederic off guard. “That’s my making. If you’d only trust me, you could have that same happiness.”

He didn't look up, but he does look almost closed off. "I love her," he said weakly, admitting something he knew would only get him in trouble. "It's not something i can just turn off, Dominic. i'm not a pawn on a chessboard. I've got feelings"

"Well...we'll see how this all goes for you," He tells him. "You don't do well when things fail," he grumbled. he glared up at him. "No, you can't do that. You know Edgar thinks this is all his own doing. You know how hard this all will crash when he finds out the truth." He hissed.

"And if I trust you and it all fails? What if I lose all my passion? " What if I'm stuck in a lonely marriage?" he wondered “ What if everything you do doesn't make me happy?" He meets his gaze. "Would that be your making, too? Would you take responsibility for it?" He asked him.