Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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Barry knew intellectually, of course, that the lord of the Astral Estate in Davenshire had recently married. He had acted as witness to the young man’s wedding , for goodness’ sake. He was acquainted with Mister Taaco several times over, knew that he was tied to his sister at the hip, knew that he had married into lordship over the estate and all his holdings. He had more than ample connection in his mind between one Taaco and another to fall back on when he received the invitation.

But Barry, clever as he was, had never possessed the knack his mother had for keeping track of the many twists and turns of the social climate that came with this marriage and that. He had never been terribly good at knowing this cousin from that, or exactly which relation of which family would inherit one estate or another, or exactly whom he’d been introduced to at what ball.

All that was to say when he arrived to Lord Kravitz’s estate on his horse that fine Saturday morning, he ought to have been expecting to see Miss Taaco, but by some terrible oversight, he was not, and as such had no opportunity to prepare himself for the re-introduction.

He seemed to be, upon his arrival, the last awaited member of the merry party. He did not know how many Lord Kravitz had invited to his picnic across his well-manicured grounds, but as he rode closer to the house, he saw them, the merry band, standing in the drive before the front entrance. The ladies’ dresses were  bright in the sunlight and the men were laughing loudly enough to be heard well down the lane, and all manner of servants stood by with baskets and blankets and sheets for a proper outing.

He dismounted a ways up the drive, handing his horse off to the waiting groom, and, steeling himself, he approached them, that boisterous, joyous party.

It wouldn’t be so bad, he tried to assure himself. He may not have always been considered the most… delicate individual in social situations, but he had been invited, and to refuse Lord Kravitz would not only be exceedingly rude, but would prove him to truly be the reclusive dullard he was expected to be. He had to come. And a picnic was a fine idea, on a summer day such as this. The sun was not shining too hot, and Kravitz’s estate was exceedingly fine, and if he was lucky, he might have the opportunity to take a few hours for reading in the fresh air, rather than shut up in his laboratory.

He could see the group better now, close as he was. Lord Kravitz standing beside his husband, who just as Barry remembered, carried himself with a casual slant, the antithesis of the aristocracy’s stiffness.  There was a woman beside them holding a parasol over her head to keep off the sun, another couple, and a short, stout man with graying hair, and - 

“There approaches our final companion now!” he heard Kravitz shout from the company, and he saw the man move through the small crowd, jogging over to him to take his hand warmly. 

“It’s been too long, Bluejeans,” he said, “ever since my wedding I’ve been near desperation in my wish to reunite you with the rest of my acquaintances. And yet hardly anyone can persuade you out of your home!”

“My work keeps me very busy, my Lord,” Barry replied. The handshake went on longer than he felt entirely comfortable with. He was already sweating. He shouldn’t have come. He always thought that going out would be better than it ever was in reality, and never learned from the mistake.

“Now, Bluejeans, you musn’t stand on ceremony with me,” Kravitz insisted. “I, after all, owe my happiness in part to you. I expect nothing but the warmest of friendships between us from here out, and you must help me see it through.”

“Thank you, then, for your kind invitation,” Barry tried. The man smiled. Thank god.

“We shall have you over more often,” he said, “not two weeks will pass without me dragging you out of your house, mark my words. Now come, let me introduce you to the rest of the party. My husband you know -”

“A pleasure,” Barry said. Taako smiled back, inclined his head slightly. There was something in his eyes that put Barry on edge, but he wasn’t able to read it before -

“And I have been told that you have had the delight of being introduced to his charming sister -”

And she was there, looking at Barry like he had recently returned from the grave, a flush rising to her face, and Barry realized how he had not seen her before. The parasol resting on her shoulder betrayed her; he ought to have noticed her upon his first arrival, but he saw now how the pale canopy had hid her face until this moment. She looked at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, looking, for the first and only time Barry had seen her, out of her depth.

Good, he thought to himself, vindictively, let her be out of her depth here. Perhaps she ought to have a taste of it, so in the future she might take more pity on those poor folk among them who had the foolish inclination to act with honest intent.

But he was at lord Kravitz’s estate. And she was newly Lord Kravitz’s sister. 

He would not shake her hand, would not afford her that intimacy. Instead, he inclined his head in a small bow.

“Miss Taaco,” he said, “It has been some time since we last met. I trust you are well?”

“I am, Mister Bluejeans, thank you,” she replied softly, still with that - he would say unguarded, if he did not know better - look of shock on her face. She looked for a moment like she had more to say, but Barry nodded again, forcing his face into a stiff smile.

He allowed himself one moment precisely to think how exceedingly beautiful she looked in all her finery, and then he turned away.

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Chapter Text

Lup’s one great advantage was her beauty; a graceful brow and good complexion, elegant curls and a bright, fine eye in the right company make things such as one’s fortune and birth matter less and less. Auntie used to hold up Lup’s chin as a child and inspect the line of her jaw and tell her her beauty was among her greatest charms, and would become her greatest weapon.

And so, at the balls to which she accompanied the Captain, Lup spoke little, smiled often, fluttered her lashes and whispered behind her hands, all her efforts focused on presenting herself in the best light. Rich men liked coy young ladies with quick wits and a streak for mischief that ran just deep enough. Lup fit the bill with only a slight effort. Even country mice like her could be a novelty with the right ribbon around their necks and in the eyes of a foolish and wealthy man.

That evening, in the cold of the depth of winter, she trailed along behind the Captain to the house of an old friend whose connection to the man she could not fully remember. The night outside was cold and slushy, but the inside of the house was warm as a summer evening, numerous bodies and candles packed into so many parlors and halls. The women in their satins and feathers and pearls perched like birds of paradise in corners and along walls, when they weren’t taking a turn around the floor with this gentleman or that.

Lup was introduced to the host, the old friend of the Captain’s, who was nearly as short as the man himself, and about whom she could remember little, an hour later, but that he was dressed a touch eccentrically. But no sooner was she introduced than she set off in search of one particular young lady with whom she had spent the vast majority of similar evenings since her arrival in Town.

Miss Lydia Wonder was quickly located, in a corner of the ballroom, clutching a cup of hot punch between her small, lithe hands, and Lup hurried to greet her.

Miss Wonder and Lup shared the sort of close friendship that only two young women of similar age, both away from home and both seeking their fortunes, can have. Lydia was, in all respects, Lup’s closest confidant and companion, save Taako. But Taako’s absence from the city meant that Lup had grown quite attached to Miss Wonder, in her own way, and sought her company out at every possible opportunity.

And Lup knew that Lydia was not the sort of company her Aunt would approve of. Her Aunt would tell her that Lydia was vain and foolish. But she did make parties much more fun. She and Lup had a habit of moving through the rooms of a ball or dinner party, and engaging those acquaintances they had, and in quiet moments, Lydia would whisper to Lup the latest news and gossip on everyone in attendance.

And Lydia did, truly, know the latest from everyone’s family. Not only their own circumstances, but that of their mothers and cousins and more, and Lydia wore fine clothes and pearls, and to stand near her made Lup feel as though she is on the inside of something, rather than acting the country mouse. Plus, Lydia had no respect for the puffed-up snobbishness and propriety that governs London Society. She and Lup traded scathing remarks over the brims of their cups as they watched the passerby, occasionally setting them down when each of them was asked, in turn, to dance.

Such evenings made Lup feel young and gay and desirable, and it was in such times that she wished her stint in London would never end. How wonderful, to be young and beautiful and unattached, and she would push, in these moments, thoughts of matrimony quite out of her mind, and grow pleasure-drunk off ladies’ perfume and the heat of the ballrooms and off the wine.

It was well past ten o’clock, and Lydia had quite finished lambasting a Miss Carter who wore a ridiculous headdress of green feathers that did not compliment her complexion half so much as she thought when she put it on, and Lup was surpressing her laughter with so great a force that she was nearly in pain, when she pointed to a stout man in conversation with a small party opposite the room.

“Who’s that?” she asked, watching the man sputter, looking deeply uncomfortable with the company, glasses slipping down his nose as he fiddled with his cuffs. His stature was rather comical, she thought, fuzzily. 

Lydia’s eyes widened at the sight of him.

“Oh, that’s a Mister Bluejeans,” she whispered back, “owner of a small estate in the southern countryside, near the sea. No great fortune, but apparently a pretty bit of land worth a little something from what I hear.” Lup watched as he clumsily handled his glass, spilled a small portion of punch down his front and turned nearly as red as the liquid in his glass as he pulled out a handkerchief to mop at it.

"He looks quite the life of the party,” she whispered, and Lydia giggled. “Do you think he swallowed a swarm of bees before he came or is that just his typical expression?"

"Lup you’re terrible,” Lydia tittered, “But apparently he is just awful in company. Clearly. My cousin met him last season,  says she's never met a gentleman so incapable of carrying on a pleasant conversation. And he’s something of an eccentric, though she didn’t give me any details. Supposedly he's nearly forty and never been married."

"I can't imagine why,” Lup said drily as she watched the poor man mop at the front of his clothes. The small party with which he was engaged had moved away, seemingly quite without him noticing. He fumbled with the handkerchief in one hand and the glass in the other, and Lup would almost pity him his clumsiness, if it weren’t quite so amusing.

"I'll give you sixpence if you dance with him,” Lydia said suddenly. Lup snorted.

"You don't have sixpence."

"Well next time I do it'll go straight to you," Lydia answered, quick as a whip. Lup considered the offer, cocking her head a bit. If he couldn’t hold a punch glass and talk at the same time the man was bound to be an awful dancer. But Lup was rather bored, and it had been a moment since she had danced.

".....make it nine." Lydia huffed.

"Oh very well. Two dances then."

"Just the one and you'll pay ninepence for it,” Lup said evenly, watching Mister Bluejeans all the while. The man finally noticed his party had abandoned him. He looked around the room for a moment, and just there. For a second, his eyes caught Lup’s who blinked, and then looked back to Lydia.

"Oh fine, Lup,” Lydia hissed. She must have been bored as well. “You really are impossible."

“Thank you very much.” Lup held up her hand, crinkled up her right eye that still faced Mister Bluejeans’ vantage point so she’d appear merry. She could almost see him in her periphery.

"But only if you get a dance,” Lydia said, now looking reluctant (likely at the thought of losing ninepence so something so silly, “and my cousin said she didn’t see him dance once last season. And you can’t ask him.”

Lup slid her eyes over to Mister Bluejeans again, smiling, and caught his glance for just a moment before his eyes darted away. She could see a flush rising in his cheeks.

“Oh I won’t have to ask him,” Lup said, watching as the man finds a convenient table on which to set his now mostly empty glass and ruined handkerchief. She watched him straighten his coat, and smiled. “He’s going to ask me.”

Chapter Text

She’d only been gone a month, she thought desperately, her heart pounding, her lungs burning, the sun beating hot on her neck as she ran full tilt away from town. She’d only been away a month, how could it be true? Did Taako have an understanding she did not know of? But Taako told her everything - and he had told her of no prospects. And all the time she had been with him, she noticed nothing - 

It must be a rumor, she thought. It must be. How could Taako be - 

It did not take long for her to arrive back at the Burnsides home, and she burst through the door with hardly a second thought for propriety - 

“Goodness, Lup!” Julia cried, starting up out of her chair, “What on earth is the matter -”

“My brother,” she said desperately, “Have you - have you received any correspondence from my brother, anything at all?” Her brain seemed half torn apart, her breath coming short - she could not  seem to piece two thoughts together in sequence. Everything in her mind was crying out: it cannot be, he would have told me -

“Why yes,” Julia replied, her brow furrowed, “I was going to tell you, a letter came just today while you were out-” she gestured to a it - a simple rectangle of paper on the desk by the door that could have been a loaded gun for all that it made Lup’s heart race,  and she snatched it up, departing the room and running up the stairs without another word, heedless to Julia calling out behind her.

She slumped against the bedroom door heavily as it shut, and turned the envelope over frantically in her hand, and yes, there was Taako’s handwriting, his loose, looping scrawl, and Lup should have suspected something - why didn’t she write, why didn’t she demand he write her - she hadn’t suspected a thing - 

She tore open the envelope, tore out the pages, and began to read:

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Dearest Lu, 

I hope you are not too angry with me upon reading further in this letter. I hope, too, that the news I am about to impart to you has not already reached you through other means. Please believe me when I say that I had no intention of keeping you in the dark. Sometimes gossiping tongues move more quickly than the post, and that I cannot help.

The news is this: I have married. It is to a Mr. Kravitz Sinclair of Davenshire of ten-thousand pounds a year, though I beg that you believe me when I tell you that I think I would have taken him if he had not a penny to his name. I do not think, in all the kingdom, I could have found a man more perfectly suited to my character, young or old, bachelor or married, rich or poor.

We are gone to France at present - though I am half afraid the trip will make our marriage resemble an elopement even more than it already does - but then, who could argue with an elopement between two eligible, land-inheriting bachelors? Tostaada is too ancient and senile, as you well know, to say anything of consequence to that effect, and Kravitz is so rich that his reputation is beyond tarnish. All that’s left to consider is his mother, and he has assured me she will be more than happy to hear of our connection - but I am neglecting what I meant to say. We are gone to France, and shall be returned in two months, at which time I implore you to pack your things and come to Davenshire to live with us. I have not seen Kravitz’s estate, but it is said to be everything one could wish - large and beautiful and far enough from everything that we need never be bothered again. He has likewise expressed an eagerness that you should join us there and wishes me to tell you how greatly he anticipates making your acquaintance and becoming a true sibling to you upon our return from abroad. I think that you shall come to love him as much as I do - or nearly, at least.

Before I conclude, I have news of a nature that might interest you as well, that of an old acquaintance of yours from last season. I was surprised beyond measure that our marriage was witnessed by none other than a Mister Barold Bluejeans. I would have you know, darling, that he was perfectly cordial during the ceremony, and even inquired after you upon our reintroduction with an artlessly concealed eagerness; I hope you do not mind me relating to him how exceedingly well you have been and that you have found great success in your endeavors toward courtship since departing Town. He looked very sour at that and said little more other than to offer us his finest congratulations, and to wish you all health and happiness, which he was keen that I should relate. And now I have related it. For my part,  I have little  interest in passing time with the man who so shamelessly broke my sister’s heart, and was grateful for my husband’s and my departure of the country on holiday as such. A month or two across the Channel should rid us of societal obligation for a time to the bores of Davenshire or London or Hertforshire or anywhere else they should seek to irritate us with their boorish manners and impositions. I’m sure I shall tire of France in time, as well, but that my husband shall be with me, and Lulu… I feel that anywhere I go with him by my side would be a most pleasant and agreeable venture.

Dearest, I know this news comes suddenly but I must assure you that I am happy beyond compare and I sincerely hope you can find it in your heart to be pleased for me. You will come to love him in time - his nature is such that I think you will not be able to help it. I shall send you a letter when Kravitz and I return, at which point I beg you to make the journey to Davenshire, or I promise I shall come to Tostaada’s and drag you back with me myself. Do not imagine that I won’t.

Time and paper run short, sister, so I will simply say that I am, as always, joyfully and lovingly yours,

Taako

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