June 17th, 1894 - Malfoy Home

The dreary weather outside mirrored her mood so perfectly that Torie thought she could feel the storm clouds in her veins. Her harp sat untouched, her needlework incomplete and she hadn't even had the heart to pick up a book to distract herself. Instead she sat in the window seat watching rivulets of rain drops run down the panes of the window overlooking the back garden. She had crumpled the letter up and smoothed it back out and stared at it after reading it at least five times. Now it sat on the cushion beside her as she drew her knees up to her chest. It was all a very dramatic response to a mutual decision, but that didn't mean it sat right with Torie.

After spending the winter in the countryside, hoping this spring would bring an engagement, instead it just brought estrangement. Anthony was spending an increasing amount of time away for work and Torie was trying to be patient, to let him know that she was supportive, but she could only bend so far before she broke. Letters could only hold her for so long. She wasn't getting any younger and if they weren't going to move forward before the start of the season, she would miss out on valuable social events to help her get back on her feet.

She still sort of hated it and wasn't over feeling sorry for herself just yet.

Which is of course how Estelle found her. Torie wasn't exactly in the mood to deal with her sister's thoughts on this, but there was no escaping now. Sighing softly, Torie removed herself from the window seat, smoothed out her skirts and her hair, tucked the letter away and moved to pour herself a cup of tea. "Dreary, isn't it? I hope it doesn't last very long." Even the weather was a far more preferable topic of conversation.

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Estelle Malfoy

  

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Red again! June 1894

Estelle, largely buoyed by her progress this Season, with her commitment to being married as soon as possible, the mild success of her personal transformation and society’s new encouraging thought of her (and thinking always of new ways to keep Mr. Maxime’s attention, too), was preoccupied enough to have been largely ignoring her sisters lately. Neither of them were married yet either, and Estelle was starting to think they might be the anchors dragging her down, rather than the other way around. At any rate, she had renewed vigour for the race – she might be married first, after all. It did not sound so unlikely as it once had.

So, when she swanned into the drawing room, it was to a curled-up-in-the-window-seat Victoire, which was a rather less victorious seeming pose than usual, frankly. And Torie was talking about the weather, which meant she must have nothing at all else to brag about. “Merlin, things must be dire in your world,” Estelle remarked, fluffing out her own skirts (another brighter, softer dress than she had previously been accustomed to) as she sat, too, “if that’s the best you can do for conversation.”

She was not much used to Torie being the dour one between them.

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   Sybilla Rowle

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Leave it to Estelle to cut straight straight to the chase. "It is not a particularly cheerful topic that is on my mind, in fact it quick mimics the weather," Her sister was not her first choice for discussions like this and so she was going to try and avoid it for as long as possible. It wasn't as if Estelle would be sympathetic or care much about the situation. In her already foul mood, Torie thought Estelle might even be a little giddy over the whole thing. It wasn't like her courtship, as the youngest, looked good on either older sister.

"It will be fine." She assured her sister with a tired sigh. Eventually, hopefully. Torie had gotten caught up in making a love match that she clearly hadn't seen the ramifications. She'd been blinded to the truth and she needed to refocus on making an advantageous match. If she could do that, she would be happy. She just needed a good place, a good man and her position in society would be secure. She would be secure. If she could get that squared away, things would be fine. It wasn't as if she had the challenges either one of her sister's faced. Torie could do this, she just had to get back on her feet.

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Red again! June 1894

As if I couldn’t tell, Estelle thought about sneering as her sister explained she had a morose subject in mind to match her morose expression – but she didn’t, because she was putting into practice her new tactic of keeping her mouth shut and smiling. So she busied herself by laying out her embroidery beside her, and carefully feigning concentration on threading her needle.

Were Victoire’s prospects dreary, then, or would it all be fine? Her sister couldn’t have it both ways, and she was not inclined to imagine it was the former. “Go on then, I’ll bite –” Estelle declared, matter-of-factly, “what’s on your mind?” She affected a commiseratory frown. “What terrible tragic news did you receive in your letter?”

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Torie had though Estelle might leave it at that; she hadn't quite envisioned her sister actually asking after her predicament. Torie sighed softly, looking out the window and back down at the letter before at her sister. It was going to come out eventually and she supposed she ought to tell Estelle directly before her sister could twist the story around.

"Mr. Alderton and I have," she paused, cleared her throat, and continued. "Called off the courtship." It was disheartening at best and heartbreaking at the worst of it. Torie volleyed violently between the two, depending on her mood. Torie was still in love with him, obviously, but the overwhelming disappointment that his work was to come before her and the life they had envisioned together was miserable. She appreciated his honesty, but at the root of it, she didn't agree and it was making her bitter.

Swiping away an errant tear as quickly as she realized they were falling, Torie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Nobody in the house would understand. Angel and Raf wouldn't care. Estelle would gloat. Her parents would be disappointed and she would be alone once again.

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Red again! June 1894

Estelle inhaled sharply at that, because she couldn’t help herself – it was the last thing she had expected to hear. Called off the courtship. (Were their family cursed? Torie had been the one actually making progress, and here she was, all her progress quite embarrassingly undone.)

Estelle caught a glimpse of her sister wiping her eye, and she decided that the best and most empathetic route here, rather than offering a handkerchief or Merlin, an embrace, was probably to pretend she hadn’t seen anything, and continue on. Leave Victoire her dignity, and whatnot. “Called it off?” she questioned, brow furrowed, because something in the phrasing did not add up to her. “Do you mean he did, or did you?” One of them must have prompted it, somehow – and it was difficult to gloat or to say good riddance to him, if she didn’t know who had been to blame.

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   Victoire Malfoy

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"I suppose it was a mutual decision." Though she could confess that she had initiated the conversation. He was just gone far too much and it felt like she was not as important as his work and she couldn't handle that. It had been alright at first, but then he was gone more and more often and she had just wanted to either be able to go with him, or to see him more often, but it had become more and more difficult.

She huffed out a sigh. "Different plans for the future." She had once thought they'd been so aligned, but clearly that hadn't worked out in the long run. Maybe she and her sisters were cursed. None of them seemed to be able to get anywhere in love and she just wanted to find something that was worth her time and effort. She couldn't wind up alone and miserable.

The churning in her stomach left her feeling queasy and without any idea of how Estelle would react (probably not in support at the very least), she hadn't the fortitude to continue the conversation. "I think I will go lie down." She managed, crumbling the letter in her hands and tossing it into the fireplace as she moved from the room.

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Red again! June 1894