Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Complete a thread started and set every month for twelve consecutive months. Each thread must have at least ten posts, and at least three must be your own.
Did You Know?
Did you know? Jewelry of jet was the haute jewelry of the Victorian era. — Fallin
There were young ladies aplenty in society and Enoch flattered himself that he could assess them at his leisure without fear of missing out on the cream of the crop. He was, as his mother kept informing him, a bachelor of unparalleled worth being a first son without any stain upon his character and the only claimant upon his father's considerable wealth.
(If only his father would do him the favour of dying then he would be even more eligible but the miserable old bastard seemed determined to be a fly in the ointment for as long as he possibly could. Even his mother couldn't manage that situation without seriously compromising her reputation and Enoch would never allow her to do that.)
In the meantime he sauntered across the room to claim the next dance from Miss Tatiana Lestrange. There were eligible young ladies everywhere one looked but above them all there was a higher tier of debutante that Enoch took particular interest in and sitting at the centre of them was Miss Lestrange. The crème de la crème indeed.
Tatiana had, briefly, considered sending her regrets to her sister-in-law, to tell the world she thought some other event far more exciting. She could not, however, abandon Tiberius to his wife's frivolities, and however begrudgingly, she had to admit that Antigone could throw a party.
In spite of her age, her dance card was reasonably full—the two appropriate dances with Mr. Macmillan, one with her cousin, and a number with those who likely sought to ingratiate themselves with her family. Of the names upon them, though, Mr. Enoch Rosier's shone quite brightly; in the event that Mr. Macmillan should ultimately prove wanting, the auror would be a fabulous alternative. After all, he was his father's heir, with no older brothers, nieces, or nephews to hinder his fortune. Still, as company went, he was rather more of an ass, though he was an excellent dancing companion.
"Of course, Mr. Rosier," she responded, offering him a gloved hand.
Though she might have been getting on in years there was no denying that Miss Lestrange was utterly ideal for the sort of match that his mother wished him to make. The family ties alone would likely be enough to sate her ambition and Evalina had pointed out to him herself what a fine figure the younger woman cut across the dancefloor in her gowns.
Somehow the fact that she was now in the sights of Charles Macmillan made her altogether more desirable. Macmillan was good enough company at the club and Enoch had no specific dislike for the man but it was always far more fun to take something from another.
“Are you-” Before he could begin with the usual pleasantries Enoch heard a cry to his right and turned to see a gentleman holding a hand to his face, almost but not quite concealing the red welt that was growing there while the offending ball of light floated away innocently. “Did your sister-in-law include such things for our amusement or for hers?” He asked as they took their positions.
Hearing a grown man cry out like a stuck pig was equal measures off-putting and entertaining—Tatiana was pleased that it drew Mr. Rosier's attention, for it allowed her to crane her neck in search of the source. The witch did not quite bite back her laugh at the sight of a gentleman hastening to cover his face, the source of the sound he emitted remaining obvious beneath his efforts.
"Hers, no doubt," Tatiana remarked dryly, "for my brother's dear wife does so like...unconventional entertainment. I daresay, though, that she would not begrudge us finding our own amusement, too."
Many young ladies he knew might have offered sympathy for the man’s foolish plight and despite virtuous kindness being a quality other men might seek he had been raised by Evalina Rosier and thus would have despised them for such a weakness of spirit. Miss Lestrange, naturally, reacted just as he would have liked a woman to. Griselda thought she was too perfect to be true but then the same might have been said for his sister – that similarity between them certainly enhanced Miss Lestrange’s already considerable charm and he took his position on the dance floor feeling quite like the cat who had gotten the proverbial cream.
“How fortunate when one’s amusements align with their hostesses,” he quipped, though he didn’t think it wise to stress how much he admired Mrs Lestrange to her sister-in-law. “Forgive me, Miss Lestrange, but my work does make me rather callous sometimes. I do hope you won’t hold it against me?”
She pursed her lips a moment in thought. She had obtained Mr. Macmillan's attentions now, but not secured them. It would not do to not cultivate other options, and Mr. Rosier was certainly one of those. But how best to satisfy his own interests?
"A true gentleman moderates himself to those with whom he is in conversation," the witch decided on, "but does so in a way that sees them all—even debutantes—as individuals, rather than a singular wall of bricks—" tedious, without an original thought "—to be painted by the same brush."
Her smile suggested he would be very foolish to do so with her.
Enoch raised an eyebrow at the comment. He generally treated all debutantes with the same level of disinterested courtesy, barring the few that were especially annoying or the even fewer who met his impossibly high standards, but he had never thought that any of them would actually notice. One girl was as empty-headed as the next was she not?
Well, clearly not this one, though he supposed it was not surprising given the woman who had raised her. If ever there was a woman that didn’t blend into the crowd…
“I pride myself that I pay particular attention to every lady I meet,” Enoch replied, lying through his teeth with effortless ease. “Though surely you would concede that some people are more singular than others?”
"To be sure," Tatiana was quick to agree, thinking first of her brother and next of Mariana. Both were creatures that nature could never replicate, even given millennia towards the endeavour. Mr. Rosier, though, likely did not fall into such a category himself—though that did not mean he was without assets.
"I must wonder, though, Mr. Rosier—if you pay particular attention to every lady, how are you to to make your particular interests known?"
“I credit myself with being rather more straightforward than most, Miss Lestrange. A young lady I enjoy the company of will certainly be aware of the fact and those I do not-” He shrugged, uncaringly. “I do not trouble myself with what they think. Not everyone can be exceptional and they themselves must be aware of the fact.”
He dipped his eyes to her figure and, not for the first time, found himself with a slow smile spreading on his face.
“I certainly wouldn’t trouble to explain myself to anyone I found less than exceptional.”
"Duly noted, Mr. Rosier," she remarked, a gloved hand moving ostensibly to adjust the pendant of her necklace, fingers resting for an extended moment upon her collarbone.
Following the movement of her fingertips with his eyes Enoch was struck by what must have attracted Macmillan. Quite apart from Miss Lestrange's obvious benefits - money, breeding and the Lestrange name would never go out of style - she was also just the right side of knowing for a man who didn't indulge in the pleasures of the flesh, as he knew Macmillan didn't. If it weren't for the fact he had a child already Enoch would have doubted the man had ever lain with the woman.
No, Miss Lestrange was perfect. The suggestion of sensuality without a single iota of crassness and, he suspected, quite as deliberately done as any of the young ladies that flattered and giggled their way through the season.
"I'm sure there's very little that you don't note, Miss Lestrange," he replied, inclining his head gracefully as the dance came to an end. She was a clever one, of that he was quite sure, and he wondered how he had missed it before. "I shall look forward to our next dance," he added. "And there you have my interest, quite straightforwardly expressed."
And with a brief wink he left her to her next partner, quite sure that her dance card was already full already. She was certainly a young woman with ample options.
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