Full Name: Evelyn Jane Hughes

Nicknames: Evie

Birthdate: October 22 1867

Current Age: 22 Years

Occupation: (Lower) Housemaid

Reputation: Evie's reputation sits at a solid 6; 7 for being a known bastard with a -1 loss due to her mother having a middling reputation for said bastard child

Residence:Dovecote District, Irvingly (household of her employer)

Hogwarts House: Unknown

Wand: N/A

Blood Status: Muggle

Social Class: Working

Family: Middle aged mother: Lilian; a woman of low middling reputation due to her indiscretion as a young woman (i.e. the birth of her bastard daughter, Evie). Lilian is a bitter woman with a hypocritical streak; she seems to think herself as the model of virtue her daughter should be striving to emulate. Unfortunately, this virtue failed to make an appearance until after Evie's birth. Evie wouldn't dare to point this out to her severe mother, however, as her mother is strikingly fast with back of her hand. They rarely see each other due to Evie's employment and Lilian's acid tongue.

Appearance: With hair as dark as honey and full lips the color of dried peonies, Evie is a beautiful young woman. Her eyes are a deep sapphire, rimmed with what her mother frequently refers to as "sinfully long" lashes.
Though quite lovely to behold, her appearance bears subtle signs of her difficult life. She is rather on the thin side, with limbs that don't seem quite as full as they should be for a woman of 22 years. Her hands are the real give away of her station in life; they frequently sport small burns or callouses from nursing fiery grates and lugging chamberpots.

Normally Evie can be spotted sporting her maids uniform. On the rare occasion she goes out for pleasure rather than business, she remains strictly within the confines of modesty in her personal dress.

History: Ancestry: The Hughes family ancestors have not been lucky. Though once a prosperous family who specialized in the production of lace, the family eventually fell into debt following some unwise investment. After their lace factory that once stood proudly in London was sold off, the small family fortune was squandered and lost, bit by bit, generation by generation, until the Hughes were lowered to domestic service or worse.

Recent Past: The Hughes went here and there across the continent, never quite able to recapture their previous fortunes or find the stable ground on which to rebuild themselves. Lilian Hughes, daughter of a librarian, enjoyed a relatively free lifestyle throughout her childhood. This freedom was eventually blamed by her family when she was ruined at the age of 18 by an unexpected and shameful pregnancy. The father of her baby disappeared without a trace following the revelation, never making a claim on Lilian or the baby.

Lilian continued to live her with parents following the baby, Evie's, birth. However she failed to make a connection with the child and considered her presence to be a shameful and humiliating reminder of the life she had unwittingly made for herself. She had made her bed, so the saying goes, and now she had to lie in it. This failure to connect caused her to have a tumultuous, sometimes abusive, relationship with her daughter as Evie grew.

Evie began to work as a scullery maid as a young girl, and a housemaid as she entered her mid teens. The work was hard, but it did get her away from her mother. For this freedom, she was grateful. She struggled with loneliness, but she did find the busy days a sort of respite. Although a dedicated hard worker, she found her shame at being branded a bastard kept her from making any true friends in the households where she was employed. The brand made her reserved, and double her efforts at being an exemplary employee. She longed to be praised and given even just a crumb of kindness or recognition as opposed to the scoffing and dirty looks she had long since grown accustomed to.

In 1884, Lilian moved to Irvingly following the death of her parents. She used the small sum left to her from their estate in order to rent rooms and, as Evie learned soon after, search for her father. Lilian had never gotten over her first love, or the state in which he'd left her, and had been trying to locate him for years. They never got the chance to find each other again, however, as that summer Evie's father died in the fire. Lilian's bitterness and hatred for life, for love, and for anything meaningful increased tenfold.

Present: Evie has been working for the past five years for the Wood family, in the Dovecote District. She longs for a life outside of service, although she'd hasten to reassure you of the opposite. She considers the dreams she harbors nothing more than mere whims. Service is what her future is. At best, she hopes to one day be a lady's maid, work that would be much easier on her body and possibly more pleasurable depending on the lady. At best, she dreams of breaking free of the shackles that bind her to become a writer! Although this is terribly foolish and highly unlikely and will never come to pass... still she dreams.

Illiterate for the most part, Evie can barely write more than a few simple words. But writing novels in her head is what gets her through each day. She recites stories to herself all day long, as she completes the stiflingly simple day to day tasks she is required to complete. It would be such a blessing and a comfort to have a dear friend to confide in and dream with, but she has yet to make such a connection.

Evie's current employers are a bit rough and the pay not so good. She is beginning to become restless and is thinking of her turning her eye to a new employer, if the right one should present themselves in the future.

Personality: Street Smart | Hard working | Lonesome

Other:

Sample Roleplay Post: ...."Yes, we ran into each other so often I'm sure one encounter was much the same as the next," Gabriel chuckled. Eleanor squeezed Richard's hand under the table. She was truly worried that perhaps they could not survive one dinner. This was a rocky start. "Occasionally, yes, we did meet. Parties and such. I'm afraid I was so busy I've forgotten all about such meetings," Eleanor smiled pleasantly. Though her words were not terribly unkind, they weren't particularly.. nice, either. Anne looked at Eleanor from down the table while Mrs. Foster was babbling on to her about children. She gave Eleanor a sympathetic smile. She knew exactly what the problem was. "Eleanor, that was not very polite," Victoria frowned. "After poor Gabriel has told us all about what a wonderful time he had in London, and how glad he was to see you there." Gabriel smiled good naturedly, waving away Victoria's concern. "Think nothing of it. Eleanor is very busy. We few blessed with her precious spare moments must take what we can get. Beggars, as they say, can not be choosers." At that, Victoria let her daughter's comment go without any more fuss.

"And thank you, Sir Richard. I quite enjoyed my time in London, for the most part," Gabriel said, turning his attention to Richard now. He leaned back in his chair slightly, taking another sip from his glass, eyes on Richard over the rim. Sizing him up. This was no back alley boxing ring. This was a respectable family's home. A family who's daughter they were both interested in. Fighting would earn Richard nothing, and potentially lose him everything. It was exactly what Gabriel was hoping for. He wanted to get him mad.. furious, raging. The kind of feeling that couldn't be contained, no matter where you were, or with who. If he could achieve that, he would squash any hope Richard had of becoming a part of this family.

"The crowd in London may be a little rough, a little unrefined, even, at times.. but it has many attractions to it's credit." Gabriel shrugged, taking a hearty sip of wine. Eleanor furrowed her brow slightly, looking at him. He never drank much wine before. Normally he just sniffed at it and took a sip or two, then switched to his water glass. Perhaps he felt he needed the extra courage this evening. "I find London lacking in one area in particular. There are very few fine blooms in London. Blooms fine enough for someone who has an eye for such things, I mean. There are plenty of scraggly weeds.. but a truly beautiful bloom is hard to come by," he continued, eyeing Richard. "I find the most beautiful flowers come from the country, Sir Richard. They're transplanted quite often to the city, I find, but the country is their true home, and one can always tell how much more.. comfortable a flower looks at home in it's natural habitat. They should not be allowed to grow among the weeds, to let the weeds choke them until they whither away." He helped himself from the tray a servant was holding beside him now. "Often, people from the city don't really appreciate them at all. They think 'oh, here I've got myself a very fine country bloom', a peony, perhaps." Eleanor nearly choked on the bite she was forcing herself to chew. Peonies were her favorite flowers. Gabriel used to pick them for her. "But they neglect it, forget about it more often than not, until one day they think to look at it and find it's fallen into the soil, shrunken and dry, a husk of it's former beauty." While the conversation at the right side of the table was flowing nicely between guests, blissfully unaware of what was happening, Eleanor's family was beginning to become aware that something was not right.

"I have known some blooms to be so perfect, so stunning, it reminds me of a poem I read once. "Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines! I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with these jasmines, these white jasmines" he smiled, holding up his hands as he recited the lines, looking at them as if he was, indeed, remembering just then. "But, as I said, London is lacking greatly in that sort of true beauty. The landscape was not particularly to my liking. I think I shall do much better, back here. In my natural habitat." William had set his utensils down some time ago to follow this strange train of thought. He was eyeing both men seriously, wondering what exactly his daughter had been up to in London. He had a sneaking suspicion something he would not readily approve on what going on at his table just now.

Name: Lemons

Age: 27

Contact: PM

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