Early hours of April 24rd, 1891 — Greengrass Home, Bartonburg

In less than twenty-four hours Grace would be a proper debutante.

She had known this for month, and had been continually reminded of it over the last few weeks, so it was not some startling last-minute realization that hit her as the clock struck midnight. Only it had, because the night before her own coming out was spent at the Minister's Ball, and the clock striking midnight was as much a realization that she would be expected to do that the next night—the dance cards, the waltzing, the ballgowns, and carefully-phrased introductions—as much as it was an opportunity to remove her mask.

The ball itself had been so extravagant that it had allowed Grace the change to feel small, and there was little she enjoyed more than slinking back into the shadows at the first moment she was left without her mother or one of her brothers hovering over her shoulder. She liked to watch people. The way they talked, walked, and danced around each other both on the dancefloor and in conversations was fascinating, if only because it had never come so easily to her. The size of the party had made it difficult for her to cause a scene, too, because so many people were dancing that her slight missteps were not noticeable in the crowd, and the mask had obscured her the over-expressive expressions she made as she navigated conversations and dances she struggled to remember the steps to.

She hadn't been a total embarrassment. She wasn't sure the same would be able to be said in twenty-four hours after they returned home from her ball, where people would want to talk to her, and the attention would be on her.

The journey home was quiet, and because she was regularly in bed at this hour nobody blinked an eye when she pretended to be asleep. She would need to get used to being up late, though, and her determination to make it to bed in a nightgown rather than ballgown combined with her anxieties kept her well awake until one of her brother shook her lightly.

And then they were home. It was quiet, everyone was tired, and then there was her, standing in the foyer at the base of the stairwell staring off at nothing in particular.

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Fortitude Greengrass

  

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Tonight had gone smoothly enough, he thought. Ford had lost track of both of his sisters at various points during the evening, but he wasn't concerned about what Verity did while he wasn't looking. Grace seemed to need more active supervision to feel bold enough to participate in the festivities, but that was fine. That was his job, wasn't it, as her older brother? So he hardly minded, and every time he came back from getting a drink or giving someone a dance and saw her just waiting and watching he felt a little guilty for having abandoned her, however briefly.

It wasn't terribly late, but it was later than the Greengrass family tended to all stay up together, so Ford had assumed they would dissipate fairly quickly after arriving back home. He headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, and on his way back up towards his bedroom saw Grace standing a little shell-shocked in the hallway.

"Not going to bed yet?" he teased lightly, wondering if she was about to fall asleep on her feet. "You've got a big day tomorrow."

  

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Ford came around the corner, and she tried to perk up a little, tried to look like her mind wasn't weighing the chance of her catching a severe cold that night that would allow her to sit out her own coming out ball. She smiled at him, because it was always so easy to smile at Ford, but it didn't quite meet her eyes. She eyed the glass of water and realized that she was thirsty, too, but she she shifted on her feet she realized how heavy the dress was and that the thought of walking to the kitchen and then back up the stairs was enough to cause the soles of her feet to ache.

"It's not a big day," she deflected, trying to sound like it wasn't a big deal but only coming across as defensive. "It will be just like tonight, right? Except without the masks." Which wasn't a big deal; even though the mask had obscured her identity, she'd spent the entire night feeling as though anyone who danced or spoke to her could see right through it. They'd probably been calling her graceless in their minds, not even aware of how close it was to her actual name.

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She seemed a little tense, which he supposed he should have expected given the nearness of her own ball. He'd hoped going to the masquerade tonight would put her mind at ease a little, but maybe not.

"Well, not just like tonight," he said, tone still light and teasing. He crossed to the wall opposite the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "We didn't arrange for five scenery changes. I hope you won't be disappointed?"

This was the sort of joke he could make to Grace, but not to Verity, because Verity actually might have been.

  

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Grace gave a little giggle that sounded insincere from the moment it left her lips, but she kept up her smile, not wanting to disappoint Ford. She knew he was probably a wreck on the inside too, wanting to make sure it was perfect like Papa would have done. She didn't want him to give the impression she was dreading the ball he'd help put together—or worse, the impression that she was ungrateful.

But when she tried to answer the question—and she did have an answer, or she thought she did—she could only exhale one, deep, loud breath that she'd clearly been holding onto for the entire night. Her smile faltered. So much not looking ungrateful.

She wanted to reach out, to hold her hand the same way she had when she was a child and she was scared to approach the horses when they visited the stables, or when the were walking through the crowds when the fair came to town. She lifted her hand a few inches off her side but dropped it back to the skirt of her dress. "Nothing you do for me could ever disappoint," she ensured, hoping he believed it.

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Ford's mouth twitched towards a frown the moment he heard her giggle. He knew Grace well enough to know when her laughter was genuine and when it was not. He knew all of the girls well enough to know, he thought, but it was more jarring to hear it from Grace, because she didn't pretend nearly so often (nor so well) as Verity did. He might have asked her about it, except that he didn't have to. Her body language in the next moment made it perfectly obvious how anxious she was about the entire ordeal. He saw her hand move and wanted to walk over and hug her, or maybe tell her to go sit down in the parlor for a minute so that at least she could get off her feet while they talked, but then she spoke and he couldn't help but tense slightly.

It could, though, he thought, taking a sip of his water so that he wouldn't have to worry about his expression betraying what he was thinking. One wrong step and this could all come crashing down, and your whole life would be over.

He held the water in his mouth for a moment before he swallowed it, to give himself a moment to compose his features and to think of what to say. "Well, we'll see if you say that tomorrow," he began, trying for teasing again but not quite managing the levity his tone had had a moment ago. After a beat, he added more softly, "You're going to do great, Grace."

  

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Set by Lady!

Grace could either look at Ford and frown or look at the floor and smile, so she chose the latter. There was no point in worrying him about tomorrow night when everything was already planned; all day tomorrow Mama and probably Ford would be fretting about getting everything in order, and then later she'd be able to spend all the time in the world over-thinking things while she was being helped into her gown. She didn't need to worry him, or Mama, or Noble, or whoever he thought to tell that she was being anxious the night before her coming out.

"I wish my name did not have to be on all the invitations," she admitted. What if nobody came because they saw her name and realized that they'd seen her before and that she was definitely not the type of girl they wanted to marry? She could deal with a lack of attendance, and it might even make things easier for her, but Mama would be so put out, and Verity would no doubt have a dozen mean things to say disguised as disappointment. More than anything, she didn't want to be deemed a failure before she even had the chance to come out. If only she could be neutral—not a success, not a failure, living out of the home's drawing room.

"I think it's silly that I'm debuting, really." She was just talking now, trying to work out her own emotion and hoping that Ford might be less insistent on parading her around tomorrow. "I mean - you know I won't marry until Verity does. Nobody will look at me twice when she's there." It wasn't as if she wasn't aware of how self-deprecatory she sounded, but she thought it was true—objectively-speaking. Verity was older, prettier, more eloquent and elegant. She was everything that Mama wanted her to be, and she wasn't blind to it. "Is it too late to repurpose it as our ball?"

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   Fortitude Greengrass

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The comment about not debuting might have been something he reacted more sternly to had it come from Clementine, but from Grace he knew this was less resistance and more anxiety. As she continued speaking, that only became more apparent. Nobody will look at me twice when she's there. Ford didn't agree with that assessment at all, but he wasn't sure he could say as much. He knew Grace had all sorts of redeeming qualities that more than made up for her occasional social awkwardness. She was kind, and sweet, and had one of the best laughs in the world when it was genuine. She had interesting opinions and she asked intelligent questions about things when they were talking on their own. Someone was going to see all of that, sooner or later, and they were going to love her for it. Someone would be the luckiest man in the world to marry her, whether Verity was around to serve as competition or not.

He didn't think it would be wise to launch in to a list of Grace's virtues compared to Verity here and now, though. They were only a few feet from the stairs, and Verity's door was right above them, and they'd only said their goodnights to their siblings a few minutes ago, which meant she couldn't possibly have been asleep.

"It is too late," he said instead, shaking his head gently. "Verity had her ball, remember? Walking down the Hogwarts staircase before everyone else in her class? Now it's your turn."

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   Grace Greengrass

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Even keeping her eyes on the floor wasn't helping her keep the smile on her face. She peeked up at Ford through her lashed, her bottom lip jutted out into a pout. "But I'm sure Verity would appreciate having a ball in her honor. She's never had one of those, and it's not fair that I get to." Not to mention that Verity's grace and charm would be a better image to project to the whole of society at the beginning of the season. After tomorrow all everyone would be thinking is how silly she was and how much better they could do than a Greengrass girl.

She finally stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Ford's torso. She used to hug him like this a lot, back when they were younger (younger being a year ago) because before their father had passed Grace hugged him like this every time she left for school and every time she went to school, and plenty of times in-between. But now it felt different. She was basically a grown-up and he was a grown-up, taking care of their family and going to work whereas she felt like she was an imposter in a ballgown. She buried her face in his jacket and made a little humming noise at the sound of his heartbeat.

"Just please don't make Mama introduce me to everyone. She was talking about that at the ball—that I would have to receive everyone personally. I can't do that. I can't," she said against the fabric, making her voice sound muffles and her sniffles all the louder.

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Yes, Ford was sure that Verity would appreciate a ball in her honor, or maybe one every week until she was married, but it wasn't really a matter of what Verity would appreciate. Ford would have preferred to be the sort of doting older brother who never denied anyone anything. Of course he would have. Ford wasn't sure that he really would have felt up to being the head of the family even if they had money, but compared to this it would have been so much easier.

Before he could respond to her first comment Grace moved towards him. Ford noticed with enough warning that he had time to set his water glass down on the little side table nearby, so that when she wrapped her arms around his middle he could return the embrace. It had been a while since she'd approached him like this, but he fell into the same posture he always had like it was muscle memory, putting one hand between her shoulder blades and the other on the back of her head and hugging her to his chest. Oh, Grace, he thought as he held her and listened to her talk about introductions.

"I couldn't make Mama do anything if I tried," he said a little wryly. "But the introductions won't be so bad. You'll already know some of the people who come," he pointed out. He thought to list off some examples, but the first two that came to mind were Lestrange (maybe not the best suggestion, given the association with the disaster at the dinner party) and the Crouches, who were cousins and almost didn't really count.

"You know," he added after a second, "I'm sure Verity would appreciate a ball in her honor, and if she likes once she's married she can throw one every day." So far his tone had been fairly light, but he softened it considerably as he continued, "But you deserve things, too."

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   Grace Greengrass

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She turned her head so she could press her cheek against his chest and speak a little clearer. The thought of having to talk to so many people in a row, even if they were people she did now, was daunting, and to do so while the next person waited their term sounded inherently humiliating. They'd likely scrutinize her every word, and if they were unkind might find a way to tease her about her most recent faux paus.

"I don't like being the center of attention," she responded, even though she knew she didn't need to. Ford already knew that about her. He knew almost anything worth knowing about her, because he was one of the few who cared to pay attention. That's why he let her hug him, while he said sweet things that helped her work through her anxiety even when she stubbornly tried to hold onto it (as was the case now), and why he never poked fun at her the way Verity and Mama did.

"I wish-" She tilted her head up so her chin came to rest against his chest, and she squeezed him tighter. "I wish I wasn't so... so me. I know it sounds silly, but I know how to be like Verity. We had the same governess. I know what I'm supposed to do and say, but then it my mind becomes mashed potatoes. Do you know what I mean?"

It was like the dinner party, when Verity was talking to Mr. Lestrange and every question she asked made so much sense, leaving her wondering why she hadn't asked the same thing moments before when she'd had the chance. She didn't have the same little voice in her head telling her what to say and what to do—she ran on instinct and emotion, and usually to disastrous effect.

"Or when Mama chastised me for wearing grey at the dinner party." Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned the party out loud; she still was worried about Noble, which probably added to her anxiety about the party, but she was determined to make a good point. "I knew grey was a bad idea the minute I saw Verity,  because who wears grey to a dinner party? But for some reason I put it on. It felt... safe."

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Ford flinched a little at the phrase I wish I wasn't so me, but he let her keep talking, giving her a chance to explain exactly what she meant before he reacted to it. And he did know what she meant, because obviously he'd noticed, and it was even something that he'd talked about with other people — explicitly with Noble, implicitly with Verity and Mama. He wished it was a problem that he knew how to solve, because it hurt deep in his chest to think that people who didn't know Grace would come away from an interaction with her with such a wrong opinion. She was smart, and funny, but she rarely seemed it when talking with anyone outside the family. Ford wished that everyone could see Grace the way he saw her, but he didn't know how to make that happen and more than he knew how to recover all of the investments Papa had lost before he died.

"I'll be your grey dress tomorrow night," he said, which was sort of a joke but not entirely. "I'll stand with you as long as you want. I'll make you feel safe."

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   Grace Greengrass

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Grace smiled up at him, her chin wrinkling and her dimples on full display. It dawned on her then why she and Verity had such different expectations in husbands. Verity wanted someone who brought her riches, someone who brought her fame. She wanted to a fancy socialite with extravagant dresses and only the fanciest dinner plates. Grace did... not not want all of those things, in theory, but in her heart she wanted something... deeper. She wanted someone to be her grey dress, who made her feel safe just like her big brother did, even if she hoped that her husband-to-be wasn't into ghosts or read poetry whose authors she couldn't name. Was that deep? Or was she just so unconvinced that happiness was a reachable goal for herself? She didn't want to ask, because Ford always had a good answer, and she suspected it wasn't one she wanted to heart.

"As long as you don't let me trip over you. I did that coming down the stairs in the grey dress—twice. It really was a miracle that I didn't fall," she said, the sadness slowly fading out of her voice until she finally managed a giggle.

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He'd gotten her to actually laugh, which was so much nicer than the fake laugh she'd forced out earlier. Ford found himself smiling despite everything — despite not knowing whether this was good enough to make her feel better about tomorrow, despite not knowing if even a confidence boost would help her with her social skills when it came down to it, despite not knowing if that would be enough for her to make an impression on anyone worth impressing. There were still so many things that could go wrong, but it was hard to keep them in mind in a moment like this. It was impossible not to smile when Grace laughed.

"I'll try to stay out of your way," he said, squeezing her a little tighter for just a moment before he let her go. "But you ought to get some sleep. I'll see you for breakfast tomorrow," he promised.

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   Grace Greengrass

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Set by Lady!

He smiled back, and for one, brief moment Grace thought everything might be okay. She would have her ball, Ford would be at her side, and she would only stumble through... maybe half of her interactions, but that would mean there would be half of the interactions that were decent and productive. It would be fine. She would be fine.

Or maybe that was just her exhaustion speaking. As Ford pulled away she let out a yawn so wide that she couldn't close her mouth for a solid seven or eight seconds, but when she finally did she smiled lazily at him and nodded.

"Save me an orange," she quipped, and then let her hand come to rest on the stair rail behind her. "Goodnight, Ford."

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