Charming

Month XXth, 189X — Location

Her mother had told her she was going to spend the afternoon with a friend - although conspiciously when Vera had asked who they were going to see, her mother had not told her but had given some meaningless answer and told the carriage driver to dash on. 

As it transpired the friend was Mrs. Foxwood and it was not the ladies tea she had been expecting, it was a set up - and not the first one in recent months.  Sighing deeply Vera out on her 'show face' - the socially acceptable brightness expected of all debutantes, at least until Mrs Foxwood and her mother took themselves off to a sofa on the other side of the large drawing room, comfortable enough that they were close enough to ensure that the pair didn't shag on the persian rug, but far enough away to afford some measure of privacy. 

She felt a little strained, unsure as to who's bright idea this had been - not wanting to give offence and very much not enjoying the lack of control she had over the situation.  'Have you been enjoying of the off season Mister Foxwood, has the country as many delights as the London season? her smile was slightly strained and to cover she brought her tea to her lips.  If only she knew if her usual patter would break the tension or worsen it - in matters like this, it was usually better to allow the gent to set the tone and she hoped to merlin he picked a good one.

---

It had been a long while since Atticus had accompanied his mother to tea, although given her recent illness (despite having a full recovery) he was more attune to helping her when she asked. It was only natural that Rose Foxwood used this to her advantage; his smile had been strained when they’d entered, his mother’s arm looped through his as they neared the table where Ms. Blackwood was seated, although she patted him on the arm and excused herself to sit on the sofa near Mrs. Blackwood a few moments later.

Atticus’s mother had been pushing him to find a wife sooner rather than later because she wasn’t getting any younger and wanted to enjoy her grandkids. As if she also didn’t have another son who was capable of producing children. He nearly rolled his eyes but instead focused on his company. Atticus managed a smile at the woman before him, awkward and uncomfortable. “As much as I can Ms. Blackwood,” he replied. “My project this off season was to begin the restoration of my childhood home, although it has been a nice break to hide from…everyone.”

Out of the corner of his eye he peered at the women on the couch, who appeared caught up in their own conversation. Mrs. Foxwood had a sly smile on her lips. He loved his mother dearly but sometimes she could be overbearing. “And how has your off season been?” Atticus asked as his eyes flicked back over to her. He relaxed in the seat as much as he could.

---

It was clear as he spoke that he was being as harassed into this as she was - just as she was - she was sure the renovation of his family home had been the red flag going up to every mother of every single woman in England. May God go with him, because none of his friends would! When it came to fending off the mothers of debutantes...he would be rather on his own.

In response to his query as to how she was finding the off season, 'Full of teas with gentleman who have trapped into banale conversations with young ladies' Vera smiled conspiratorially and lifted her tea cup, taking a sip, feigning innocence. That at -least was the awkward tension broken. 'Don't worry I'll tell all the mothers that you are appropriately dashing and all the young ladies that you were the height of wit. This was delivered with smiling eyes over the top of her tea cup. 'Unless you wish for peace from the machinations of the ton in which case I'll tell all you were a terrible bore - you can let me know which you prefer.'

---

He couldn’t help but laugh quietly at her, reaching forward to grab his own teacup and taking a sip; he’d never been a fan of tea but it was something he had sucked up years ago. “Sounds dreadfully terrible. I’m afraid I would fall asleep if I had to be trapped in such conversations with young ladies.” Atticus grinned over his own teacup at her before he settled it back onto the table, his fingers still wrapped around the cup. He probably had; he was terribly picky and it drove Mrs. Foxwood up the wall.

“I’m sure my mother will send you a survey after this meeting, so have no worries of what I might prefer.” It took everything in him not to roll his eyes. She had sent the lonely hearts letter without his knowledge so who knows what else she hid from him. “She might even track you down so you can explain your responses so she’s better able to assist me.” He had no idea what her afternoon teas actually consisted of; Atticus should go to them more often.

Turning his attention back to her, Atticus tilted his head slightly as he observed her. “And what would be your preference for me to tell all the gentlemen? You put me to sleep or your conversation never lagged?”

---

Vera laughed, 'I will make my report appropriately detailed' she ventured with mock sobriety, She removed her fan from her coverlet, she twirled her fan in her left hand* and tittered for their audience but shot him a knowing look, their mothers were close enough to observe, but not enough to hear the material of their conversation.  'I should hate to disappoint them' she gestured with her fan to the mothers with an angling of her eyes and a suitably coquettish affect, so to the casual observer she would appear as a debutante hard at the work of being a social delight. 

'As to your report of me' she made a show of contemplating her answer, 'You should tell your friends whatever you think might be the most alluring.  If they wish for a social wife, tell them that, if they want a bore tell them that.' she said with finality, 'Because all debutante should want to be is amenable - I would be failing in my responsibilities otherwise'. Her tone in this was obviously sardonic and joking.  It was clear from this very obvious set up that her mother was desperate for more control over her romantic life - apparently her friendship with the eloping Fitz and Camilla had frightened her mother sufficiently to begin doing these little set ups - worried, as she seemed to be, that Vera would elope with a halfblood and the Flint portion of Eugenia Blackwood nee Flints fortune would be lost. 

'You realise your tactical error don't you?' she asked sipping her tea, ever the gamesman.

---

Atticus tilted his head as she shot him a look he knew all too well, and from the corner of his eye he couldn’t help but glance at their mothers. He caught his own mother’s eye and he would swear the Foxwood fortune that it held a glint of mischief in it. “I would venture to say you’re doing a mighty fine job proving to be anything but a disappointment.” Atticus murmured as he turned his attention back to the woman in front of him. Then he chuckled quietly, wondering just how often she played coy for her mother’s sake.

“I promise you Miss Blackwood, boring debutantes aren’t often sought after over in my friend group.” His lips curved into a slight smile. The last time his mother had been so pushy to set him up with someone she’d be dreadfully boring and had less personality than a twig, thus their courtship had ended before it had truly begun. Rose Foxwood, understandably, had been disappointed that her eldest son wouldn’t marry the daughter of her good friend although one night agreed it would be nice to not have to pull conversation out of her for the rest of their lives.

Atticus couldn’t step the grin that spread across his lips as he leaned forward, lowering his voice despite having no one around to overhear him. “I would have to perfect a spell to keep my eyes open, and I can only assume it would be the same for someone as social as you.” Then he picked up his tea and sipped it, taking pause before he cupped his fingers around it as he set it back down. “Please, enlighten me.” He said, flicking his eyes up to blink at her.

---

'Your first mistake' she said, playing mother and topping up their respective tea cups, and giving a laugh that was out of place, but assuredly not for the gentleman but rather for the rapt attention of the mothers, who gave each other pleased smiles. Such an act would give both mothers -and indeed both harangued children enough plausible deniability however this little tea went. Her mother would think she had been charming and agreeable - so it wasn't Ginny's fault if Mister Foxwood didn't bother to call on her, that must be some flaw in his character, and Mrs Foxwood would think her son had been suitably gregarious and affable, and his decision not to pay calls must be due to some other flaw of Miss Blackwoods that she had not perceived. Ginny was good at this game.

'Your error Mister Foxwood' she rejoined, setting the pot back on it's stand and warmer, 'Is that you let it be known you were renovating your home' she added a splash of milk to her own. 'Now every mother in England believes that she know just the girl to be Mistress of it.' AND that you are looking for her. she met his gaze steadily.

'It is the firm belief of every society mama, that a single man needs only bachelors lodgings and to leave the family home to his mothers keeping. If you are taking up the family home - then you are in want of a family.' The view was true enough, Mister Foxwood wasn't the first man she had heard spoken of in this terms? 'If you would like the rumour of your intention to sell, rather than live in the home spread to give you peace I am more than amenable to being your messenger?' she teased.

---

Atticus watched the woman before him carefully; coy and knowing how just how to appear as if the conversation was going exactly how their mothers imagined it might. He could only wonder what other secrets Miss Blackwood hid, and what other personalities she might have. So when she laughed he joined in after her, tilting his head back every so slightly before he pursed his lips together in an amused smile.

“And that is where you’re mistaken, Miss Blackwood. It will not be a bachelor lodging as you have put it, merely a place near London in which to entertain during the season.” He leaned forward to take hold of his teacup once more before he took a light sip; then he leaned back against the seat, a slight smirk playing across his lips. “It was lost when we were run out of London some years ago and it has taken me quite some time to reacquire it. My wife will have free reign to decorate and host anything she sees fit in it. I am merely ensuring that it’s up to my standards before I present it to anyone.” It didn’t matter if right now he was using it to dodge his mother - she was insufferable with the need for grandchildren lately!

Tilting his head, Atticus watched her for a moment, wondering what her game was. What did she want? To be married? To be free of the idea of marriage but couldn’t just yet? His smile grew larger and he found himself chuckling quietly. “You seem to be the messenger for many. How many secrets do you actually have, Miss Blackwood?”

---

The maternal mutterings from the corner appeared to be in approval of what they were observing of the interaction.

'Duly noted' she took a sip of her tea again, the action acting a shield against his observation. 'Oh I have many secrets Mister Foxwood, you'll find most good debutantes are full of secrets' and the implication that she was one of the best hung in the air. She raised her tea cup as though she was toasting with champagne or spirits. Her public social profile was high enough, she counted the 'right' people amoung her friends to have the makings of a superlative socialite, that was of course if she could be prevailed upon to settle on someone. However finding someone with the spirit, the humour, the taste and the family to suite her had proven to be more of a trial than she might have anticipated. The blood issue didn't matter much to Vera but did matter a great deal to her mother who didn't want to see the Flint estate entailed away from her to some third or fourth cousin - No Eugenia Blackwood nee Flint, may have long divested of the name but she would secure the legacy for her daughter if it killed her.

Vera for her part, was no fool, she enjoyed her place in society, the freedom that money, family and good looks gained her, but she knew that true freedom, for women at least, came when one was married. When one's position was 'secure' because a woman's place in her own family was never final - she was not her final self until she took her position as mistress in another home. A reality sometimes lost on gentlemen - well those without marriageble sisters or cousins at any rate. 'After all Mister Foxwood, who would wish for a lady that is an open book - how dull would marriage be if every chapter were laid bare before the end of Act 1.' her eyebrow arched mischievously. 'and I could tolerate being many thing, but never dull.' she added archly.

---

“I think any good person is full of secrets.” Atticus murmured quietly as he watched Ms. Blackwood. He knew of her; he’d seen at the balls and gatherings, seen her at a distance amongst whom he could only assume were friends (although if she said the same for him, Atticus would deny most of them being friends. They were merely social people with whom he enjoyed a conversation or two with), and couldn’t put his finger on why she wasn’t being courted. On paper she seemed nearly perfect, although he could only assume she was picky of her future spouse. Lord knows he was and it drove his mother absolutely insane. His own standards he set for what he wanted in a wife seemed too high but he certainly wasn’t lowering them any time soon.

Atticus liked his freedom too, he supposed. Sure Mama Foxwood lived with him but she didn’t demand his attention every waking hour - clearly, since she’d had enough time to discuss and execute this little plan of hers. Having a wife with friends who she actually wanted to go out and see was important. Of course had no intentions of taking a mistress (he wasn’t sure he’d be able to juggle two women at once even if he had his heart set on one), but that didn’t mean he wanted to be his wife’s sole entertainment. His fingers thrummed against his leg as he took a glance over at his mother before he carefully looked back over to the woman before him. Ms. Blackwood at the least, checked that box.

“Fair enough, Miss Blackwood. Knowing your spouse right when you got married would be rather dull and I can only imagine that’s how wandering eyes start.” Atticus stated as he leaned forward to once again take a sip of his tea. “How many suitors have you turned away for being dull? A lot, I can imagine. Mother tried to set me up with a friend’s daughter once, and it was much like talking to a block of wood. I couldn’t imagine going through life trying to converse with that every day.” A bit rude, but oh well. It was the truth.

“Outside of the social season, what do you do? Dreams for a career?” Atticus hummed quietly. He had views on this, although it was safe to say they’d changed over the years.

---

Vera smiled at his quipped retort about all good people coming with secrets. Well- wasn't that an interesting comment for a gent. Most gents, at least those in Vera's experience, liked to tell you everything at once, so that everyone knew how rich or clever they were right from the off. The idea that a gent might have secrets of his own was intriguing, the only man who had bothered to cultivate anything like an air of mystery had been Emrys Selwyn, but he had taken himself too seriously to have ever been anyone other than someone that she had rather enjoyed irking - and then he had gone off and married someone as boring as a widowed Hogwarts professor and ended any indication that he might be at all interesting.

Vera's mother had certainly opinions on why she had not agreed to court any of the gentlemen who had shown interest in her - and yes boring had been rather high up her list. She had no interest in being smothered by a man who needed Vera to make him interesting or provide him with interests of his own. Her musing as to what Mister Foxwood might find interesting or what he might fill his days vanished from her mind at his next question. Her green eyes flicked up rather suddenly to meet his - wondering if the question was a trap. Did she want a job? She didn't think anyone in her entire life had ever asked her that. The only 'job' that she was destined for was socialite, but her days were busy inspite of her lack of gainful employment. 'I ride, I have horses, and I manage their training and care' - this was an understatement. When not in town she was at the country home, riding and racing took up much of her country time, and her blood stock knowledge was superlative - she had even made a tidy sum in stud fees and race prizes.

Her fathers involvement in Quidditch, and her own interest in the sport kept her busy enough in the Quidditch season, although there was almost no need to mention the Blackwoods involvement in the sport, they had a box at almost every match in every stadium - and anyone deemed even remotely amusing was usually invited if not to the box, then almost certainly to the parties that were hosted afterwards. 'And I accompany my mother on her engagements' - a coy and suitably demure way of saying that she undertook the sort of suitable charity work that filled most socialites resumes.

'What of you sir?' she pressed him, 'what industry fills your hours? Is your home renovation a full time endeavor or are you political?' - political - a euphemism for the first born sons who had no need of work but wished to avoid an accusation of idleness, political aspiration was a safe association.

---

A perfect answer for a woman of Ms. Blackwood’s statute, although he expected nothing less of her; Mama had mentioned the woman once or twice in passing before setting this tea up, dropping hints of how wonderful the woman was, as if he’d propose the moment he first saw her. “I would expect no less. I enjoy riding, but I cannot say I’ve ever trained or cared for a horse.” The staff did that for him, and if he were to ever have to do it, the care would be limited and clumsy. He did like to bet on them too, when the time came, although his luck for picking any sort of winning horse never seemed to be that grand. At least the Foxwoods had the money to lose.

Smiling against the teacup, Atticus watched her for another moment. This time her comment made him grin. Ms. Blackwood was certainly checking boxes to show how she would be a proper upper class wife, and he couldn’t help but slide his eyes to the side to look at his mother, who, for a split moment, seemed to smirk at him. It took every fiber in his being not to roll his eyes at her. She was being presumptuous and he knew she was going to talk his ear off as soon as they walked back through the front door, demanding answers to how right she was. “Sounds like you keep yourself very busy, Ms. Blackwood.” Atticus nodded as his eyes flicked back toward her.

Settling the teacup against the table, he pressed his lips together as the conversation came to him. How did he spend the majority of his day? Here and there, wandering and doing as he pleased while trying to keep the Foxwood name as prim and proper as he could - father had done well as the head of the household, and while Atticus had fumbled at first picking up where he left off, he had found his rhythm some years ago. Political, of course, but that was a boring conversation to enter. “Actually, I was thinking of becoming a sponsor for a quidditch team.” He didn’t say much more; he hadn’t looked into it too much, just in passing over a few drinks with a few friends. Mama asked if he was serious and they hadn’t even bothered to entertain Basil with the idea.

---

Vera had little by way of ambitions for her husband, she didn't need, or indeed particularly want a husband who was more concerned with his own power than their power, having been long convinced that the sort of power wielded by being rich and interesting was to be much preferred to that of say Olivia Prendergast or Lucius Lestrange, which was by fear and power of intimidation. She didn't want to be able to ruin others, but did want her social profile to be the talk of the season.

A Quidditch sponser - now that was promising. 'Oh you should!' she enthused, her interest and excitement genuine. She often thought that if she had been a male she might have gone out for Quidditch as a second born and would certainly have been a sponsor had she been an eldest male. 'The Howlers and the Magpies are both in desperate need of new hands at the helm' her father would financially support the worst team in the league every year, but he did it for the love of the sport and not for any particular interest in financial returns from his investment. For as many Gallivans, who saw the team as a cash cow, an equal number, owning a team as a status symbol, a way to flex ones wealth and social status, even though there were financial dividends to be had from team ownership if they did well.

'I'm sure you'd be a great deal of fun in the owner circles, you should go in with us on the Derby' she suggested, although not a quidditch event, it would be a good chance for him, 'The Blackwoods host most years, most of the Quidditch owners will be in the upper circle with us, it would give you a chance to see if the others are really your set?' Most of the quidditch owners, and those involved in the industry formed a social circle onto themselves, by taking on a team he would almost certainly become part of the set, not that that would be a bad thing, Mister Foxwood was proving himself to be more than capable of holding his own.

---

It was the first time he felt that Miss Blackwood had shown her actual personality, and Atticus chuckled quietly. He’d heard rumblings here and there about the Blackwood involvement in quidditch, although it wasn’t something he followed too closely. He’d gone to most of the games at Hogwarts and to the cup when Hogsmeade had hosted some years ago, but he couldn’t recall making Quidditch a priority for a while. He may have gone to a game here and there with a friend or when a younger cousin begged him to, but he hadn't ventured to one on his own. But now that Atticus had attained his childhood home and began the renovations on it, it was time to find something new to spend his time on.

He smiled then, finding his gaze back toward her. “I’ve been looking at the Howlers. I hadn’t even considered the Magpies.” The Howlers were much more local than Scotland, and given how new they were, the team could go in any direction. He just wasn’t sure if he was cut out to be a sponsor for anything like that, but Atticus was willing to give it a go. Then she was speaking about the derby, and Atticus nodded. “I had every intention of going to the derby, but meeting some of the owners wouldn’t be a bad way to spend the day, either.” He hummed. Seeing if he could get along with the other owners and perhaps see what he’d be getting himself into was a good idea - a trial run, of sorts.

Atticus looked back at the woman in front of him. “And who do you root for, Miss Blackwood?” He couldn’t help but offer another smile at her, discovering it nice to find some sort of common ground between them, even if it was shaky at best.

---

'Either would be good fun' Vera affirmed. In her opinion at least only the best families had some sort of quidditch involvement. The ones who were the most influential and fun anyway, and Mister Foxwood was revealing himself to be a most interesting and fun companion. Perhaps further time in his company might not be the trial that her mothers impromptu meddling was not entirely bothersome.

'You would absolutely be welcome in the royal circle with us, the Prewetts, Fawleys, Malfoys, Devines and a few others are invited as well, you won't be able to avoid them if you take on a team to sponser - and if you can't stand them for a small amount of time, comprised mostly of cheering, then you'll have no luck with them in the long term.' she laughed, giving a broad smile, the invitation was genuine.

'I've no particular allegiance' she admitted, 'I just enjoy the society, the comradery, and the sport for the sports sake.' She enthused, 'Quidditch is a microcosm of the entire ton, but without the stakes - a team might lose, but no one is ruined, the next week we do it all again.' Vera explained with a fond smile, it was odd to actually express why she enjoyed Quidditch, there was more to it of course, seeing the queerest people rise above their stations and surprise all through some act of national heroism was a stirring thing indeed, but that answer felt more socialist than an upperclass debutant was really permitted to be and she kept it to herself.

---

Atticus nodded his head as he smiled at her. “Thank you, Miss Blackwood. I would be honored to join and see what everything is about. I do think I know a few of them, at least in passing.” He spent a lot of time at societal events - there weren’t very many people he didn’t know in one way or another. He wasn’t worried about getting along with people; he knew his faults but Attics wouldn’t deem himself as a terrible person who people actively avoided. If anything, this would just broaden his circle of people he might seek out for conversation.

He chuckled quietly as she explained she didn’t have a team she rooted for, and it was refreshing to see how she just enjoyed the sport. “Games are something much different than dances and dinners. Sometimes it’s nice to be able to enjoy yourself without worrying about what others think. I don’t particularly have a team I root for, either. Although I suspect you knew as much.” One wrong move by a quidditch player may lose them the game, but he wouldn’t say it would ruin a life. Not in the same way a debutante would ruin hers if she were to do something severely wrong, even if it was something as simple as wandering away from her chaperone. Of course there were the exceptions, as he recalled one player recently, Astorwood or something like that who had deliberately thrown a bludger at someone and the injuries had ruined their career. He had almost ruined his own career too.

“It’s set then, Miss Blackwood. I will owl you for details when the time comes. I daresay, I will enjoy seeing you there.” Atticus tipped his teacup in her direction before taking a sip. This tea certainly wasn’t turning out how he expected, and he was quite alright with that.

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