Integrity, faith and crocodile tears
May 30th, 1889 — Hogwarts Coming Out Ball
As much as he was feeling an increasing pressure to remarry, now that he was at the Coming Out Ball he couldn't help but feel that he wasn't quite that desperate yet. Going to these things just screamed 'I'm looking for a wife' and they all looked so young and, well, like children. Hand him a room full of spinsters and widows, however, and he'd declare them all far too old. There was no ideally aged woman for Charles for he'd find an excuse to avoid them all if he could because what if they were like Noelle? What would he do then?
It was a small mercy his late wife had died of natural causes (ghost issue aside), he'd been preparing to have her committed but that would've run into its own problems eventually. Unless she'd suddenly become considerate enough to die there. If his next wife was anything like his first he simply couldn't tolerate it and there was no guarantee she'd die in a timely manner.
He'd watched the girls descend the stairs with vague interest - picking out the pretty ones as they came into view and promptly forgetting their names and faces once they'd walked off - and now that he was surrounded by dancing he felt a certain degree of obligation to take part. Urgh. For once he wished ladies were encouraged to ask gentlemen to dance, he would have enjoyed picking only the most seemingly acceptable partners while abruptly declining all the others. Charles surveyed the nearby females and began calculating which dance card he'd be least displeased about putting his name on.
Someone's elbow suddenly sharply collided with his ribcage from behind. With a mild curse of surprise and discomfort, he whirled around to look at the guilty party.
""
It was a small mercy his late wife had died of natural causes (ghost issue aside), he'd been preparing to have her committed but that would've run into its own problems eventually. Unless she'd suddenly become considerate enough to die there. If his next wife was anything like his first he simply couldn't tolerate it and there was no guarantee she'd die in a timely manner.
He'd watched the girls descend the stairs with vague interest - picking out the pretty ones as they came into view and promptly forgetting their names and faces once they'd walked off - and now that he was surrounded by dancing he felt a certain degree of obligation to take part. Urgh. For once he wished ladies were encouraged to ask gentlemen to dance, he would have enjoyed picking only the most seemingly acceptable partners while abruptly declining all the others. Charles surveyed the nearby females and began calculating which dance card he'd be least displeased about putting his name on.
Someone's elbow suddenly sharply collided with his ribcage from behind. With a mild curse of surprise and discomfort, he whirled around to look at the guilty party.
""
