It has come to This Author's attention that Viscount Nicholas has been calling upon Miss Beaumont (The older sister). A behaviour that has sent unyielding mamas into a frenzy.
Lady Harrington has also been noticed to be seen always smiling whenever the topic of Miss Beaumont and her son the Viscount is brought upon. This Author cannot wait to see what the Viscount's next move regarding his 'friendship' with Mis Beaumont would lead to.
Marriage....or perhaps not....
This Author would like to think that it would be the former...
Lady Ravenscroft's Society Papers, 28 April 1812.
Nicholas kept his word regarding his conversation with Helena, he called on her while bringing along flowers for both her, her sister and her mother almost every day. He was ready to be patient with her and get to know her more. He did not stop teaching her about the paperworks that her father left behind.
The conversations between the two of them was no longer awkward—not that it really was, and Helena was able to share details that she wanted with him.
Everyone one who knows Lady Ravenscroft knew before the end of the week that Nicholas and Helena were serious about each other and Lady Morribel was no exception.
"It would seem that this season that Miss Beaumont is a fine choice among the list your mother crafted." Lady Morribel said as he walk into the drawing room of the Harrington's estate.
"A fine choice might i add." Nicholas said as he grab a biscuit from Iris plate before taking his seat beside her.
"That was the last one." She yelled with a pout.
"Iris!" Lady Harrington said or perhaps yelled at her with a daily reminder of her to always behave in a lady-like manner.
"Where is Benedict?" Lady Morribel asked with her her eyes searching the room.
"Playing a round of fencing with Felicity" Hazel who is seated in front of her piano provided to which Lady Harrington frowned.
"That is not Lady-like." She said setting her teacup down.
"Nothing about Felicity is lady-like" Iris provided to which everyone laughed except Lady Harrington who gave her a glare.
"What?" Iris asked as she take a bite of another round of biscuits Miss Donna, the head maid set in front of her to which she thanked her. "Honesty is lady-like, remember."Iris added with a cheeky wink toward Nicholas, who was already eyeing her fresh plate. She pulled the tray an inch closer to her chest, guarding it like a dragon with its hoard.
"Honesty, perhaps. Sarcasm? Most certainly not," Lady Harrington sighed, massaging her temples as if a headache were physically manifesting from Iris's lack of decorum.
"I prefer to think of it as social transparency," Iris countered, her voice muffled by a mouthful of buttery shortbread. She caught the horrified look on her mother's face and quickly swallowed, smoothing her skirts with exaggerated precision. "Besides, if Felicity can swing a sword, surely I can tell the truth. It's much less dangerous for the furniture."
Nicholas chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "She has a point, Mother. Felicity nearly took the head off a marble bust last Tuesday."
"And she'd take yours too if she heard you calling her unladylike," Hazel chimed in, her eyes dancing with mischief.
Iris ignored her and turned her attention back to her tea, stirring it with a rhythmic clink-clink-clink that she knew perfectly well was driving Lady Harrington to the brink. "I, for one, find her lack of 'grace' refreshing. It makes my occasional biscuit-related outbursts seem positively saintly by comparison."
She paused, tilting her head as the distant sound of clashing steel drifted through the open garden window.
"Actually," Iris grinned, popping the another bit of her biscuit into her mouth, "if they're fencing, Benedict is definitely losing. I should go place a wager. That's lady-like, isn't it? Supporting my brother in his inevitable defeat?." She asked earning another glare from their mother.
"Well," Lady Morribel started while admiring the half done embroidery that Felicity had long abandoned. "It would seem that Benedict is my next victim regarding marriage matters after Nicholas."
"May the Lord help him." Came the brief reply from Hazel which sent Nicholas laughing.
It would seem that Benedict would not be able to avoid the clutches of Lady Morribel this season.
"Although, I must say Benedict has danced with nearly all the ladies that I know." She said with a frown. "His might prove to be more hard work."
"Warn him." Nicholas whispered to Iris.
"I would much rather enjoy his misery." She replied with a smirk.
"Maybe.....I would as well." He said after a moment of consideration.
"Brother," Hazel said in a sweet tone which means she was about to make a ridiculous demand. "Are you perhaps meeting with Miss Beaumont today?."
"And why do you care?"
"Well," she said as she stood up from her piano seat and walk to his side, away from the ears of their mother and Lady Morribel. "She seem like a friendly person and someone who I would like to know."
"That does not seem like you."
"Okay," she said with a groan. "Benedict explained how she isn't afraid to say what is on her mind. Just like me. A compliment by the way."
"So you want to meet with her in order to join forces with her?." Iris asked in question.
"Lord help me," Nicholas said as he envisioned Helena and Hazel together. That is a dangerous combination. "The two of you together will send me to an early grave."
"You think so?" She asked.
"I know so." He replied.
"All the more reason why I should get to know her." Hazel said with a devious smile.
"I would ask her, " he said. "Not that I want any of it."
Nicholas stare at Iris who decide that making a tower of biscuits is more fun than the conversation occuring in the room. "Are not supposed to have your lessons on etiquette today?." He asked her grabbing another piece of her biscuits to which she slap his hands before turning to look at their mother before she saw the exchange.
"She is running late," she responded with a smirk. "The type of tardiness which i love."
"Do not forget about piano lesson tomorrow?" Hazel said as she grab a piece of Iris biscuit forcing anger from her.
"Another day to go deaf again."
"Are we that bad at the piano?" Iris asked.
"If there is any word beyond bad," Nicholas begin. "That will be all of you."
Hazel chuckles as she drink from her milk. "At least we are better than Felicity."
"Please tell me she is not playing tomorrow." Nicholas asked in fear.
"She is." The two sisters say at once making Nicholas slump in his seat.
"It is not that bad." Hazel said to which raise his brows at her.
"Okay, maybe it is that bad." She said earning a chuckle from both Nicholas and Iris.
"Do not tell mother," Iris begin as she stood up. "I am going to join Benedict and Felicity in fencing since the both of you decide that my biscuit is your source of joy. I shall perhaps see to that wager." She said as Hazel grab another piece of it.
A sudden knock at the door broke the discussion going on between both Lady Harrington and Lady Morribel as well as the two siblings. Moments later, the butler—James walked in with a letter.
"A letter for you My Lord from Lady Howard." He said before leaving the family to their chaos.
Nicholas opened the letter quietly and its contents broke him in ways beyond his comprehension.
It was from Catherine—his younger sister, Lord Howard, her husband was dead.
The paper crinkled under the tightening grip of his hands. Nicholas's face drained of all color, the smirk he had worn moments ago vanishing as if it had never existed.
"Nicholas?" Hazel's voice was soft, her hand pausing halfway to her mouth. The playful atmosphere in the room evaporated, replaced by a sudden, chilling tension. "What is it? What does Catherine say?"
Nicholas didn't answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the final line of the parchment, reading the words over and over as if they might change. Finally, his voice came out as a hollow rasp. "Lord Howard is dead."
The silence that followed was absolute. Hazel's glass hit the table with a sharp clack, milk sloshing over the rim, but she didn't seem to notice. Lady Harrington stood slowly, her face a mask of pale shock, her hand instinctively flying to the lace at her throat.
"Dead?" Hazel whispered, her eyes wide. "But he was... he was just with us for the hunt before the start of the season. How can he be dead?"
"An accident," Nicholas said, his voice gaining a hard, brittle edge as he finally looked up. "A fall from his horse near their estate. Catherine..." He swallowed hard, the name catching in his throat. "She was with him. She says the physicians could do nothing."
Lady Morribel moved toward Nicholas, her usual composure replaced by a look of deep sorrow. "Oh, that poor, dear girl. To be a widow so young."
Hazel sank back into her chair, the biscuit she had fought for forgotten on the table. The chaos James the butler had left them to had turned into a cold, suffocating stillness. The piano lessons, the fencing, and the petty thefts of biscuits no longer mattered; the shadow of the Howard estate had reached their door, and their lives had changed in the space of a single letter.
The heavy silence was shattered by the rhythmic clink-clink of steel echoing from the hallway as Benedict, Felicity along with Iris, still flushed from their fencing match and wager, burst into the room. Their laughter died instantly as they took in the grim look of their frozen family.
"What is it?" Benedict asked, his foil lowering as he looked from Nicholas's sadden face to his mother's trembling hand. "Has there been some trouble in town?"
"Lord Howard is dead, Ben," Nicholas said, the words sounding like lead. "A fall from his horse."
Felicity's foil slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly against the floorboards. She reached out to steady herself against the doorframe, the color fleeing her cheeks. "Dead? But Catherine… she's barely been married a year. She's alone."
Lady Harrington found her voice, her steel spine returning even as her eyes remained glassy. "She will not be alone for long. James!" she called out, her voice sharp enough to cut through the gloom. As the butler reappeared, she began issuing commands with a practiced, desperate and known efficiency. "Have the carriage readied immediately. We leave for the Howard estate within the hour."
She turned to her children, her gaze brook no argument. "Benedict, you will come with me; Catherine will need a man of the house to handle the initial arrangements. Iris, gather your things."
"What of us, Mother?" Hazel asked, her voice small and trembling. Her attitude long gone.
"You and Felicity must remain here because of the season and Nicholas have to manage the affairs of the household," Lady Harrington replied, her hands busy smoothing her skirts in a restless, unconscious motion. "But you shall not be idle. You will each write to her. Tell her we are coming. Tell her she is loved. I will deliver them the moment we arrive."
As the house erupted into a frantic whirlwind of packing, Nicholas retreated to the heavy desk in his office. He dipped his quill, but the ink only sat in a mocking pool on the nib. His sisters sat nearby as well in the room, the scratching of their pens the only sound in the room, but Nicholas found himself staring at the letter Catherine had sent.
He felt a hot, suffocating wave of frustration boil in his chest. He was the head of the family, yet he felt utterly impotent. He should have been the one to protect her; he should have insisted they stay longer after the hunt.
The accident felt like a personal failure, a jagged tear in the fabric of the safety he was supposed to provide. He looked at his sisters—Hazel's tear-stained face and Felicity's stillness—and felt a terrible, crushing weight.
He wasn't just grieving for a brother-in-law; he was mourning the end of their family's untroubled peace, and the bitter knowledge that no amount of lordship could bring back the man his sister loved.