Did you know?
The Language of the Flowers was a popular method to express feelings where words might be improper, but did you know other means of doing so? Some ladies used their parasols, as well as their fans, gloves, and hankies to flirt with a gentleman (or alternatively, tell them to shove it!). — Bree ( Submit your own)
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Brigit Langley for Fletcher Langley.
The Matchmaking Menace
This boy, then. He wasn't new. Wasn't one of the worst people in the common room, those rotten rich boys - like Mr. Jailkeeper - who could not fathom a world beyond their own farts. Was a good working class lad, so he'd heard. Had a bit of a weird looking face, and a bit of a weird thing for preaching. Still.Aubrey Davis in The Under-Sofa
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Post 3+ times in three or more class threads during the course of a school year. Must all be done with the same character, be they a professor, student, or school portrait or ghost!

January, 19th – McPadraic Estate, Kitchen

Explaining to the governess why she had been covered in flour had been easier then Alexandra had been planning. Convincing her that it was an accident and that telling her father would be a bad idea had taken longer. Alex of course had not named their chief as the person, and she continued to simply state she did not know then man. By the time they were home, and she had changed, the story had been forgotten and not a word whispered of it to anyone.

Yet Alex felt extremely guilty about the whole thing. With the governess busy with the other children, father and Evaine out for the night at some event, it was very easy for her to sneak into the kitchen unnoticed. There she placed a simple envelop with his name on it, inside containing enough money to cover the bag of flour she had destroyed. Then she turned to leave before being found out.

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Young Miss McPadraic seemed content to skulk off like a thief in the night – well, a reverse thief in the night – and Ahmet was perfectly content to let her.

Which was exactly why he flouted actual precaution and ripped the envelope open the very second she was out of sight. It wasn’t as though her sudden turning on him had been expected. It was the proper thing to do. She was his better, and lessers took the fall for women like her. It was the way things were, and he couldn’t care less.

And if he hoped she never got the flour out of her clothes, and that everything she touched including her goddamned grandchildren’s grandchildren were eternally stained in flour – …

Well, he didn’t. Because that would be improper.

He cast a withering look in the wake of Miss McPadraic’s retreat before looking in the envelope. His sneer faltered, and then he pursed his lips as he counted the coins. He let out an indignant breath through his nose and rolled his eyes skyward before tucking the envelope into his pocket.

How nice. They were 'even,' like this was just some sort of bar tab that needed to be paid off. Couldn’t he just steam in pressure-cooked anger in peace?
Alex had heard the ripping as soon as she was out of sight. He must have been using magic... She knew a lot of the staff did, but still... She sighed lightly before moving on. She had an afternoon of joyful needle work to finish. Fantastic...

This lasted longer then she would have liked but shorter then the governess would have liked. Instead she tried to find someone to ask for a cup of tea, yet everyone was busy with one duty or another. Which meant she would have to make it herself. Which meant facing the kitchen once more.

She stuck her head around the corner, making sure it was empty before she entered. It wasn't the first time she had to make her own. But the least chief and her had an agreement that she could. She didn't have that agreement with this one, and after the events of the morning... well she did not want to run into him. Alexandra quickly made her way to the station, filled the pot with water and put it on to boil.

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It wasn’t supper rush hour yet, but the kitchen was usually enchanted these days to have something on. Ahmet had noticed early on that food had a way of vanishing whilst he was out. So far he had no instruction not to keep the kitchen stocked, and so there were usually some sort of appetizers about. He’d been discreet about it – beef heart chili and various potato dishes, cheap things to give the servants opportunities for seconds and quick meals presumably.

There was a standard farm pig roasting for dinner with some time yet left on it, a loaf of bread rising, and a charm on the salad mixings to keep them fresh.

There was a shift of fabric outside the kitchen door by the coatrack. A familiar black overcoat fluttered into view, and then the crisp white chef’s coat hovered in the air. It pulled on and, too, faded out of view.

The door started to creak closed, but then froze in place.
The enchantments in the kitchen had always fascinated her. As a little girl, she would sneak around the house to try and learn the spells the staff used. Although she had never truly learnt anything that way.

Alexandra had started to hum to herself as she waited for the water. She was in the middle of preparing the tea pot with some rose leafs when she heard the familiar sound of door creak, but it stop without finishing the process. Which could only mean one person was standing in the way of it. She had a couple of options, yet she still went with probably the worst idea.

"Father and Evaine won't be home tonight until late. A whole pig is probably going to be wasted" she said out loud, not looking up from what she was doing.

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Of course Miss McPadraic the Flour Girl would be back to cause trouble. The door didn’t close right away, but it did after she announced the state of the household.

“You haven’t seen how growing boys eat,”
he retorted.

At least, he hoped she hadn’t. Because it was mostly 6 ravenous girls eating the McPadraics out of house and home in the night.

He glanced to the teapot with an arched brow.

“What can I get you?”
"Considering there will only be one boy eating the pig, that doesn't make much sense" she replied, looking at him for a moment before looking back at the tea pot. "Nothing, please carry on with your duties" she replied before moving back to her pot of water with comfort that shouldn't be there given her station. She grabbed an mitt and went to lifted the pot of hot water to pour it into her tea pot.

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There was a pause as he was caught on his lie.

“Mr. McPadraic has a busy job and a hearty appetite to match,” he decided.

After all, girls didn’t fart or eat more than rabbits according to British sensibilities.

Yet again, Ahmet was put in the uncomfortable position of being present for some impending accident that would inevitably be blamed on him. He couldn’t look away. He’d seen how often Mrs. McPadraic dropped hot things. One maid was so skilled at telekinesis she could stuff the tea back in the pot before it even hit the floor.

His eyes never left Miss McPadraic’s hands, even as he went to check the loaf of bread. Incidentally, he poked too hard and a finger dent was left in the loaf.

Damn it.
"And like I said, Father is not home for dinner tonight."

She smirked lightly to herself. He was just making it worse for himself.

Had Alexandra known she under watched because of her stepmother then she would have had some strong choice words for the man. Instead, she very carefully poured the water into the tea pot without so much as spilling a drop. The water pot was placed back in place, as was the mitt.

"Would you like a cup?" she asked as she then moved the tea pot to the staff table.

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Augh, caught. Ahmet raised his brows in exasperation.

“It’s a small pig,”
he fired off defensively.

It was a pretty average looking porker.

“No, thank you,”
he said shortly, then picked up the bread pan. “I’m surprised they leave you to your own devices here.”

He slid the loaf of bread into the oven with a mitt, trying to ignore the thought of the McPadraics coming home and finding him with their little rose. He could see it now: Mr. McPadraic cursing him to forever hear that abominable service bell; Mrs. McPadraic accidentally dumping hot soup on him in the middle of a street, even as a homeless man.
"If you believe it small, then I suppose I will have to take your word on it."

She didn't.

Alexandra nodded lightly at the no and went about pouring herself a cup with three sugars because no one was there to stop her. She couldn't help but laugh at the comment. "I'm the oldest. There isn't many lessons the governess can give that I haven't already completed. As such she spends more time with the little ones and the baby, and the tutor is working with the ones that need language help."

She sat at the table and took a sip of tea, her eyes shutting for a moment as she relaxed. "And thankfully my step mother is out." Alex probably shouldn't have said it, but she had no regrets in doing so.

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At least she was no longer inquiring about her sisters the hearty meal.

Did he extoll on how Miss McPadraic could probably start a scandal in an empty room? How close to the flame of total ruin he was every time she slipped off for a cup of tea unattended? Who would inevitably take the fall for it all, just as he had with the bag of flour?

Well. For most of it. He almost wished she hadn’t paid him back.

he said, and there was a mischievous look from the corners of his eyes. “You don’t find it absolutely riveting when she goes, ‘oh my goodness, that is so clever!’ after everything the guests say?”

Her fake laugh was weirdly nightmare material.
Ruin? Because she was having tea in the same room? Who would think of such a thing? She didn’t.

Alexandra groaned, loudly. “Not in the slightest” she replied dryly. “And the fake fainting when she doesn’t get what she wants?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m extremely glad she’s out.”

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The second he was seen alone in a room with a person of the opposite sex, he was pretty certain his job was over. The maids avoided the same, what with the fall the cook and that maid had taken.

He eyed her when she groaned and glanced to the door. Merlin. What if a maid heard her in here?

“She’s faking it?”
he said, using his inside voice with another glance at the door. “Seems like a lot of work for faking it.”
Alexandra wasn’t not worried, not that she was even thinking of anything bad happening because she was there. She was simply enjoying her tea.

“It’s fake. Only happens when she needs it to” she looked to him. “Never trust her. It will only get you in worse situations. Look at my father, he’s married to her.”

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“Oh, Merlin,” he said in fake (indoor voice) horror, though the corners of his mouth quirked too much. “Women can marry two men here?”

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