5th November, 1887 — Pettigrew House
Ursula Black

Gunpowder, treason and plot may well have been the order of the day for many others in the country but as Lucy mingled with her guests the three things that overwhelmed her most on this 5th of November were vanity, misery and a powerful need for sympathetic gaslight. She was positive that the third would aid the first and reduce the second but it was a terribly daunting balancing act, a chemical composition that made sense only in her head and when she uttered out loud had earned her only an indulgently tight smile from Andromache and, she was sure, a degree of disdain from her daughter-in-law.

She was old. And this was so very beyond the encroaching feeling of dread that had sullied every day of the last few months and made her feel as though each creak of her bones meant that her time being witty, desirable company was flittering away like the ash that rose from a bonfire and immediately vanished to the wind. She was one step away from being elderly and she had not even noticed when she had become matronly, as one of her sons inadvertently called her over dinner some weeks ago, meaning no harm but doing oh-so-much to her fragile esteem.

Being alone did nothing to help so she had insisted upon the party, taken over any attempts from Andromache to ease her load and organised the entire thing herself thank you very much. The guests were here, the wine was flowing, it was everything she had planned and more and when a young woman approached her, glass in hand and quite lovely Lucy was all too ready to greet her, even if her youth and beauty did make her furiously jealous.

“Good evening my dear, I do not believe I have had the pleasure before but you are quite welcome,” she greeted cordially. “Are you an acquaintance of one of my sons?”

  

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After the embarrassing encounter with the lady's son barely more than a week prior, the thought of deciding not to go to Lucy Pettigrew's birthday party had seemed quite appealing. Where better to remind herself how much she regretted the things she had said than his mother's party in his house. Fortunately, she believed him unlikely to want to seek her out so the possibility of an uncomfortable second encounter seemed unlikely.

So there she was at the birthday party and yet to make any proper greeting to the woman of the evening. She'd not actually seen much of the blonde in the handful of months since the parting of the ways and the friendship she had been eager to encourage with her, while not unwelcome with the change of situation, made Ursula a little apprehensive. It was bad enough that he was friends with Phineas and in the same social circles, but her tie to his mother just increased the chances of future involvement with him.

Ursula could hardly just cut Lucy Pettigrew off though, she genuinely her for a start and it would seem very strange for her to do so without the slightest provocation. Upon finally spotting a lone Mrs. Pettigrew, Ursula approached her. If she was apprehensive it was only because her thoughts kept drifting to the son and the implications of that on her friendship with his mother. As it turned out, she apparently had no need to worry for she received the greeting of a complete stranger.

Was there some propensity for amnesia amongst the Pettigrew clan or had she underestimated her capacity for pettiness? The delivery didn't strike her as passive aggressive, however. She decided to take it as a dry barb at her distance of late, although she had a feeling that wasn't the truth of it. "I really must apologize for how unavailable I've been of late, but nothing could keep me away this evening. Has your birthday been a pleasant one?"

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A stored olfactory memory of something sweet and spicy, tinged with warm intimacy came over Lucy and for a brief, bright moment she was simply consumed with a feeling of comfort and calm. Balmy summer nights should not be at the forefront of her mind in the middle of a cold November and yet they were and for no reason that she could grasp.

“Entirely so thank you,” she replied politely, trying to rummage through her mind as quickly as she was able to conjure up this woman’s name. She clearly knew who she was – why else would she have been here after all – but Lucy expected she was one of Jane’s friends whom she had long since forgotten the name of, although she couldn’t imagine why one of her daughter’s friends would ever feel especially obliged to attend! “I do hope Jane hasn’t just abandoned you without making proper introductions?”

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   Ursula Black

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I will never change this MJ set

Her face fell as she tried to fathom what had just been said to her. Who was Jane and why would she be with her? "Whatever are you talking about?" She sounded vaguely amused though it was only because she wasn't quite sure how else to respond and she didn't want to sound rude. Now that she thought about it, wasn't her daughter's name Jane? Yes, it was definitely Jane. Jane Prewett. Ursula had only shared animosity with the woman, a fact she regretted but for which she placed the blame entirely on the aforementioned. They might have gotten wonderfully if Mrs. Prewett hadn't been an insufferable self-righteous bore.

But Mrs. Pettigrew couldn't possibly be referring to her daughter - she had been dead for years!

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Merlin, the girl had clearly been at the champagne already if she didn’t even remember who had invited her! Or…oh, how silly of her! Jane was hardly the only one of her children that might invite a friend and she had already seen several of Thom’s milling around the place – although not, admittedly, either of the two that she found the most aesthetically pleasing.

“Forgive me my dear, I mistook you for a friend of my daughter’s but I am clearly in the wrong,” she smiled charmingly and shook her head at her own foolishness. “Thom has never mentioned you before though and I feel sure I would have remembered being introduced.”

Whoever she was she was lovely on the eye and carried herself with the bearing of somebody of superior birth – altogether a better prospect than her daughter-in-law and she considered that Thom had likely hidden this woman so she didn’t compare his friend with his middle-class wife!

  

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I will never change this MJ set

Ursula felt a blush creep into her cheeks when Thom was mentioned, although she told herself it was because of the awkward turn the conversation had taken. Did Mrs. Pettigrew really not know who she was? Ursula had to think so for she could think of no reason why she would want to pretend they were strangers.

For all that she might pride herself on her social skills, she was at a loss for what to do now - there was no precedent for such a situation. Did she try and set Mrs. Pettigrew right or did she play along? It was a dilemma she hadn't the time to dwell upon.

"Are you feeling quite alright," she hesitated at calling her 'Lucy' and decided it might be less unsettling to the blonde if she wasn't too familiar, "Mrs. Pettigrew?" She let the question hang for a moment before deciding to continue. "You see, we've been friends for a good while now."

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“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” Lucy snapped back sharply, utterly incensed that anybody would dare attempt to push forth such a blatant falsehood. No doubt it was social climbing or wilful misunderstanding of a small occasion that Lucy had forgotten such was its insignificance. And yet…

Her head ached. The room had been pleasantly warm before but not it felt hot as hellfire, her corset too tight for even her thin bones and Lucy struggled in her attempts to take a breath to calm herself: it was getting worse, the rest of the room seeming to go silent and close in although distantly she was aware that nothing had changed around her.

“I feel…” Her mouth was bone dry. When had she last drank something? Water or champagne or anything at all? “You’re…erm…no, don’t tell me… Ursa!” She tried to smile, sure she was right. “Like the star.”

  

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I will never change this MJ set

Ursula, for a fleeting moment, had a rather pitiful look of hurt and shock on her face as though Mrs. Pettigrew had just reached out and struck her. It vanished soon after but she still felt wounded by the tone in which the blonde had chosen to address her. Was it possible that Mrs. Pettigrew had found out what had transpired between her eldest son and Ursula? Did she feel betrayed in some way? Did she resent her on behalf of her son? Was she now electing to feign ignorance in order to shun and punish her? She wasn't sure she was up for another Pettigrew retracting their affections for her, at least not tonight.

She was already trying to plan her departure from both the conversation and the party when she was once again swayed back to thinking that Mrs. Pettigrew was not herself, rather than nursing a grudge against her. What a relief! Or perhaps not, she wasn't sure she wanted to deal with her potentially taking ill and at her own party too!

"Yes, that's right," she said tentatively. "Ursula Black. Your son is fond of... My husband. We've become good friends lately. Are you sure you're feeling alright?" A part of her wanted to reach out and provide some physical support to the older woman in case she was in need of it but she didn't want to be rebuffed or cause offense. As long as she didn't ask for Thom, Ursula thought she could probably handle anything else but having to face him in a situation already lacking in composure.

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No.

The word formed in her mind and Lucy couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud, but her reticence did not stop it being most emphatically true. She was not alright. She didn’t know why, couldn’t even begin to comprehend what it was that was the matter with her but she knew there was something. Like a secret that was buried deep in her brain it hurt to try and fish it out, but it needed to come to the fore, needed to be said out loud.

“It’s…yes…no…” She frowned, glanced up at Ursula, her eyes tearing with frustration and she reached out to take her hand, voice low and clear. “Ursula, I think I might be going mad…you’re not my daughter? No, wait,” she shook her head. There was something about a daughter. Thom’s daughter. Ursula’s daughter. Hers…

It fogged and she blinked, the pain in her head receding as she squeezed Ursula’s hand. “I’m so very sorry my dear, I must have had a little too much champagne. Please…please don’t tell Thom about this.”

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   Ursula Black

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Ursula had thought it would only get better once Lucy definitely recognized her, but apparently she was wrong. It was even more disturbing to watch the woman not only question her own sanity but to ask if they were mother and daughter. As much as she might prefer Lucy Pettigrew to her own mother, she could never wish them any closer than mother and daughter-in-law. How she could seemingly recall her and yet not know her at the same time was unsettling. Was Mrs. Pettigrew afflicted by some disease of the mind or was this related to laudanum? How she could find the idea of being as addled as Mrs. Pettigrew seemed at that moment as repellent as she did while also feeling the old longing for it, she would never understand.

"I shan't say a word." Considering they weren't really on speaking terms, it shouldn't be all that difficult to keep to her word. "Do you think a little fresh air or a few moments in another room might help?"

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Lucy frowned, all at once quite baffled why Ursula was looking at her as though she was a little old lady in imminent danger of keeling over. It was bad enough when her sons did it but Ursula was her friend and she refused to allow such a thing to become a new facet to their friendship!

“No,” she waved her hand to dismiss the idea like the filament she thought it to be. “My dear I am quite well I assure you. It’s simply…” Don’t say age, you fool! “The excitement of the party. I’ve been planning it for ever such a long time and well, you know how it is my dear, one worries about others more than oneself.”

Linking her arm with Ursula’s she felt oddly refreshed as she began to lead them towards the refreshment table. “Now I know you have not joined me in our other shared pastime but you will drink some champagne with me won’t you?”

  

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I will never change this MJ set

She wasn't convinced but the whole thing made her feel very uncomfortable and so it was easier to accept Mrs. Pettigrew's assurances as truth rather than contemplate it further. Ursula was not of a helpful and selfless predisposition and having to step into such a role felt deeply unnatural to her. As the older woman linked arms with her, she could feel her sense of ease returning. The whole awkward encounter would be forgotten in no time.

"Champagne sounds marvelous!" As did a spot of laudanum but she knew where that unhappy path would take her. She purposely looked about the room for her companion's son and felt the satisfying stirring of guilt that she needed to put all thoughts of the opiate aside.

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Thanks to Bee for this magnificent set <3

The status quo seemed to have been restored but Lucy was unable to entirely ignore the feeling of unease that lingered in the pit of her stomach. If there was something wrong wouldn't she know? Wouldn't somebody have said something by now?

Smiling automatically as she maneuvered around the room Lucy wondered, not for the first time, whether anybody even cared enough to notice anymore.

  

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I will never change this MJ set