Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Complete a thread started and set every month for twelve consecutive months. Each thread must have at least ten posts, and at least three must be your own.
Did You Know?
Did you know? Jewelry of jet was the haute jewelry of the Victorian era. — Fallin
At least the weekend was almost over, and they would be going home soon; there was no need to suffer through any further conversations at the Echelon-Arnosts. Callista wasn’t convinced she would have been able to – for all she was trying to cling to composure, there was an unforgiving, roiling nausea in her stomach. She thought it might be guilt.
But she had done the correct thing, she thought – she hoped – as she made a dash for their guest rooms up another flight of stairs, and down the hallway to the right. Caught up in her head (forcibly reliving the conversation and still wishing she had known what to say), all she could do was let her feet carry her. If anyone passed or acknowledged her on the way, she ignored them; as she entered the room, she let the door slam shut with an accidental bout of force. Her heart leapt in shock, and in the silence it still did not settle. Unconscious of who was in the room – were the lawn games over? she had never gone outside, in the end – Callista planted herself on the window seat and twisted her hands together in her lap, struggling to settle her chest enough to breathe normally.
Someone spoke; she startled almost out of her skin.
Ife had given the lawn games a miss today. Her pride would not allow her to sit out any activities on the basis of being old and worn out, but having already participated yesterday she was content that she had dodged that particular label and could do as she pleased today, and what she pleased did not involve chasing wooden balls through damp grass. Instead she had taken up a place in the corner armchair, with a book on her lap and a warm saltwater bath for her feet. The water was starting to grow cold and she was looking at her feet dubiously, trying to decide whether to reheat it with a bit of magic or dry her feet off and rejoin the guests downstairs, when Callista entered.
"I don't think the door deserved that," she said mildly. It was not like Callista to slam doors — these girls had been raised right, graceful and delicate — so she assumed something must have happened. She took her feet out of the tub and set them on the towel that had been laid out in preparation, turning towards Callista's seat at the window with obvious expectation.
Oh no, not Ìyá. She was not sure her sister would have been any more sympathetic a shoulder to her – Genia had not much patience for heart-to-hearts from girlhood – but Callista might have been able to wallow a little in her presence. She didn’t dare be sorry for herself in front of her grandmother.
So she peered steadily in the direction of the footbath until she was convinced enough there were no tears threatening to well up, and looked up with a careful mask of dispassionate calm again. (If she ever cried, it was alone – and if not, then she still would rather cry in front of countless strangers than ever in front of her family.)
“I’m sorry, Ìyá,” she said swiftly – but of course that was the easy part. She should tell her what had happened: and better her family found out before anyone else did. As resolved as Callista was to this (it was rather an inevitability, with no escape) she did not feel ready for it. But she could feel the tension creeping back into her body as she held herself rigidly there; only her hands were still trembling, where they were folded together tightly in her lap. She pressed her thumb in deeper, pinching at the skin of her other hand. “Mr. Echelon-Arnost asked me to the library,” she explained – and in fear of sounding miserable, Callista’s tone now sounded so brisk to her ear that there was an odd sharp edge of cheerfulness to it. “And – he asked to court me.”
The copy of Witch Weekley she had been lazily perusing snapped audibly as she hastilu folded it down into her lap. Genia's eyebrows were arched as she looked at her sister in surprise.
"Why Callista," the debutante remarked earnestly, "that is wonderful news!"
And indeed, it took a moment for any jealousy or feeling of inadequacy to sit in, both of which Genia shoved away determinedly. After all, Callista was the elder of the Adebayo sisters. It was only right that she should be settled first, however much the younger had wanted her own first season to be her last.
(Besides, she reasoned with less charity than was kind, Mr. Echelon-Arnost was not exactly a catch.)
For her sister to be happy and settled, though? Genia could wish nothing more for her.
Full lips dropped into a small o of surprise as Genia's attentions moved from her sister to her Iya. Iphegenia had never been short on opinions, but had long since learned to test the waters before venturing in. Their grandmother could be a veritable hurricane under the right circumstances; in this instance, Genia thought it best to take her cue from the older woman.
Ife watched the interaction between her granddaughters with careful attention. She had raised her eyebrows at the mention of courtship, and did not lower them when it was revealed that Callista had turned the man down. Mr. Echelon-Arnost was not the man she might have picked for her granddaughter; the whole family was still tainted in her mind by their more unsavory members. But she knew society's memory was shorter than hers, and Mr. Echelon-Arnost was not the worst match. Callista might have been quite comfortable in that life. She was a sensible girl, and she knew that. Which meant she must have had her reasons.
"Was this the first time you had spoken to him privately?" she asked, tone bland to mask the undertones of suspicion. If Callista had reason to believe him a boar or a brute then of course she must refuse him — but when would she have had occasion to see him demonstrate such behaviors? And Ife was a bit skeptical already about his having asked her rather than her father. Did Taiwo even know about this? The impertinance of the man, if not!
This was already just as painful as the conversation she’d had with Mr. Echelon-Arnost directly. Callista would have rather pushed it all from her mind forevermore, until she could pretend it had not happened, but – if it got out (and it was doomed to get out, because no one in society was immune from gossipmongering), it was better that people did not get the wrong idea.
Her grandmother’s question already pointed to that possibility. Callista pressed her hands together harder and shook her head, meaning to vehemently deny the implication – but then realised the question had been differently phrased, and in fact she should be nodding.
“Yes, I mean. We had spoken before, at Genia’s debut and at other parties... but never in private.” She was flustered now from their joint attention, the obvious surprise at her decision. But it had all been perfectly proper, and now she even more was grateful he had asked her before going to her father, in case her family had simply agreed to the courtship on her behalf. “I wasn’t – expecting it. But he was entirely polite,” she added weakly. Perhaps the mistake had been hers after all, in rejecting him – she didn’t want anyone to suppose he had done anything untoward.
"And yet, you refused him." It was not a question, nor a condemnation, simply a statement of fact—guidance, Genia hoped, to help get her sister to the point.
She loved Callista dearly and fiercely, even though they were rather different people. Of course her sister could do better than Mr. Echelon-Arnost, but Iphigenia was too pragmatic to assume she would do better. Callista was four-and-twenty; really, she only had one decent season left before she risked being labelled first desperate, and then a spinster.
It was bad for the family; it was bad for Genia. And Callista simply deserved so much more.
Ife could connect these dots, even if Iphigenia hadn't managed it yet. A sensible match, a comfortable life, a gentleman who had been perfectly polite, and yet she had refused him. It was a decision that didn't make sense, and Ife had experienced enough of life both herself and vicariously to know that when people chose illogically, emotion was usually at the root of it. And there was one emotion she knew was at the base of more irrational decisions than any others, though she had never experienced it herself.
"Abeni," she said, and though her voice was soft in volume she leaned forward in the chair to convey the urgency of her question. "You are in love?"
Genia seemed to want to know why she had refused him, and neither of them were judging her but Callista felt that underneath they probably were, that they both supposed she had made a mistake and should have accepted him. What had she done?
And then came Ìyá’s question, and that word. “No – I don’t know,” Callista answered, panicked even to reckon with the possibility. She couldn’t bring herself to meet their eyes.
And how was she to know? She loved her family and loved her friends, but she had never been in love before. But it was absurd! She scarcely knew him, and so it was ridiculous that she should even feel the danger of it so soon, and so easily – when all she been taught and everything she had worked to do was to guard her heart and dismiss the idea from her life as far as she was able. Ìyá had fashioned herself a happy, comfortable life without any delusions of romance – why should that have been so hard for her to do in turn? Genia did not seem as afraid as she did, or as weak. Why couldn’t she have kept her cool about this, and been logical in the moment?
“I – I did not think we would suit,” she said, trying to evade the topic and keep her cool now, though it was already much too late. “I’m sorry if I was wrong.” She was sorry if it reflected ill on Genia, too. She hadn’t meant to do any harm.
The contradictory response was answer enough. Maybe she was in love, maybe she wasn't — Ife was certainly not the expert on such matters — but she was clearly conflicted. The real question, the one Ife couldn't guess at the answer to, was whether Callista was conflicted about Mr. Echelon-Arnost or about someone else. If she'd turned down an offer of courtship because she thought the relationship might prove dangerous, that was a level-headed, if difficult, decision to make. If she'd turned him down because she was caught up in romantic notions and dreams pinned on someone else... Ife would like to have dismissed the idea outright, to say that Callista had been raised better than to be so foolish, but apparently Bosede had not been.
"It might have been a smart match," she said. "You thought you'd suit too well?"
