December 30th, 1890 — Greengrass Home in Bartonburg

Sleeping in separate bedrooms was not enough to stop Grace from invading her sister's personal space. In childhood they were close, but during their Hogwarts years had been separated both by their houses and by their differing values. That much was now becoming more apparent as they awaited their reentry (and in Grace's case, her initial debut) into society, but Grace was determined to be as close as ever, especially now that society would try to pit them against each other as two debutantes vying for the attention of Britain's eligible bachelors.

Sprawled across her sister's bed, Grace flipped through the book Clementine had purchased her for Christmas—The Art of Conversation, the title said, and the content was just that. It was nothing she hadn't heard before, but the author had somehow managed to organize everything into a way she could readily reference.

"What kind of man do you want to marry, Verity?" she asked as she reached the chapter on appropriate courtship practices. She had long suspected that their response on this subject would differ, which is why she did not worry so much about the impending season. Ford wished for them to marry well, but Grace suspected that was his way of pushing them to be ambitious in their pursuits.

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@"Verity Greengrass"

  

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Noble's rented home might've sufficed for a bachelor, but squeezing a family of six within its walls was a bit of a stretch. Even with the expansion charms Verity often felt as though she would suffocate in the smaller rooms. Back home, for the country manor would always be home, she had a seemingly endless expanse of floor to pace when her nerves began to creep up. Here, all she could do was lay on the bed and listen to her siblings' snores through the thin walls.

Grace didn't seem to have such issues, though, for she had little issue encroaching upon Verity's very limited space to lay upon her bed. She sat upon the vanity's bench, brushing out the few knots left in her hair before it became time to pin them up for the evening. Most parties didn't begin until tomorrow, but there was a small dinner party to attend with some former school friends, at least. Something to get her out of this godforsaken house.

The question was one she didn't expect, but should have. It was their primary focus for the new year, after all. "Preferably someone like Mr. Rosier or Mr. Longbottom. Wealthy, connected, handsome, in that order, too. Even Mr. Longbottom's cane could be forgiven if he continued to be involved within Society." She answered without hesitation. Mr. Crouch's cane could be forgiven, too, but he wasn't exactly what she had in mind for herself. "What sort of man do you consider to be worthy?"

  

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set by mj

Mr. Rosier and Mr. Longbottom were predictable answers. Even if she did not know their faces by memory she knew their names; they were among Britain's most eligible bachelors, but in Grace's opinion they were out of her reach. She knew she was expected to marry well, not only because their brother wanted best for them but also because they had the surname and blood to warrant an advantageous marriage, and yet Grace still found herself intimidated by the prospect of being a proper society wife. It was not in her nature to at ease at large events, much less to to host them. She would make a good housewife, a mother.

"I know plenty of names," she hummed, flipping through her book. Plenty of names indeed, but much fewer descriptors to match. She knew of their cousins the Crouches, of course, but cousin marriages were rather boring and Grace secretly (or not-so-secretly, if the novels that lined her small bookshelf said anything) desired a love match. "But names are just that, aren't they? I would be a happy woman if I had a husband who could support a house of eight children, treated me well, and a respectable job. Wouldn't that be nice?" she asked with a dreamy sigh.

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It was just like Grace to have romantic dreams. Verity, too, once felt the same before spending countless hours focused on her needlepoint as opposed to dancing the night away. Love was secondary to security at this point in her life, a truth further proven by the fewer than expected dresses found beneath the tree this year. Grace's naivety would fade in a few short months, or so she firmly believed. Then, much like she had already done, Grace would resign herself to as stable and prosperous marriage.

She didn't wish to impose such downtrodden news upon her sister when their lives were finally beginning to look up, though. "That would be lovely," Verity confirmed with a smile. "I sincerely hope you find such a match this year." And she did, even if she knew it to be otherwise. "Have you met any such dream-like bachelors, yet?"

  

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set by mj

Grace hoped she would find such a match, too, even if the task seemed daunting for reasons other than the ones that unbeknownst to her haunted Verity's thoughts. Courtship seemed to simple in these books—attract a man's attention, act sweet and demure until he paid proper calls, and then spend an appropriate amount of time with him until he proposed marriage. It failed to consider emotions she knew she would be unable to avoid, like the anxiety that paralyzed her when faced with a handsome face, or her inability to read between the lines of witty small-talk and discern how people truly felt about her. What if the man of her dreams was not direct and she made him think she wasn't interested? Was there a chapter on how to avoid that?

She had met a number of men over the past month, too, and those encounters had done nothing to ease her nerves. There was that situation in the sitting room when she'd whacked a man with a candlestick after mistaking him for an intruder—or worse, when she'd publicly fallen backwards into a man's arms! (Or was that worse? She couldn't be sure.) Surely she would fail as a debutante if she couldn't get it together!

"There have been handsome ones, sure," she said, blushing at the thought, "but none that I spoke to long enough to learn anything meaningful." She could tell much about a gentleman from the way he composed himself in difficult situations, but it would be much better if she didn't have to put men in difficult situations to learn about them. And it did not help when she missed their names!

"And you? Surely you've met someone worthy of mentioning." Verity was the eldest, the wittiest, the most ambitious—if anyone could capture a man's eye after one conversation, it was her.

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Desiring handsome men was to be expected, of course, but Verity had often found herself ... lacking in that regard. She appreciated their handsome facial features, especially those that were more symmetrical than others. However, she had yet to be so utterly taken by a man that she lost all sense and focus. Mr Rosier was certainly the closest to what she would label as handsome, but they'd yet to have any sort of formal introduction. And with the Greengrass' lack of invitation to the Lestrange ball tomorrow, she didn't expect to any time soon.

A pity.

"None worth mentioning yet," she sighed. Truthfully, Verity was more intent on making connections with the other socialites than the men. It was the women who managed society, after all, the men just financed it. "I'm certain there will be someone tomorrow at the zoo. I've heard Mr Prewett, the eldest, will be in attendance with his children." He certainly wasn't as handsome as his twin brothers, nor was he as eligible given that he already had an heir. But, he was still a first born son. Surely, any heirs she provided him would be taken care of in some regard.

  

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set by mj

That fact that Verity had failed to make any noteworthy introductions made her feel less awful, but she also hadn't mentioned that many of the introductions she'd made had been the result of unfortunate circumstances. She knew she'd do best to keep that to herself for now.

"Mr. Prewett is a tad old, is he not?" The eldest Prewett brother had to be in his mid-thirties, which to Grace seemed nearly middle-aged. Men in their thirties were rarely as attractive as the men a few years older than herself, even if they tended to be better-settled. She did know Mr. Prewett had children, though, and Grace was not prepared to be a step-mother. "A few years more and he'll start greying. Grey hair isn't the least attractive thing, even I'll admit..." Grace rambled on for a moment, mostly about how grey hair was a sign of stability so she supposed they couldn't be so terrible, and that some women who married older men seemed happy enough, but finally she came to a halt and took a breath.

"... But I certainly wouldn't mind a husband with a Ministry job. How dignified!" she concluded, letting the open book fall on her chest as she laid her head back across the quilt.

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Verity listened to Grace ramble with a growing sense of dread. Was this what she was meant to be feeling, too? She had never been the sort to indulge in romance novels and daydreams about fellow classmates. Grace had, though, so was there something she knew that Verity gad missed? Was there a small nugget of information that would then mean the difference between a successful match and a failure?

"Mr Prewett is the head of his family," she reminded Grace, eager to get past any talk of handsomeness. "And the Prewett's are connected beyond our imagination. There is, of course, the unfortunate nature of one of them marrying a muggleborn, but it's not as though I would have to marry them." Verity wasn't against muggles, per se, but there was a reason she was a pureblood and they were magicless. Rules and standards to be adhered to. Merlin, if only she'd been able to debut and entice Claudius Lestrange into a marriage before he'd been committed to his cousin!

There was still Cassius Lestrange, she supposed, but he was neither handsome nor established. Quidditch was no place for a married man. "A ministry job is a must, Grace. Or an investor sort, like Mr Abbott. Anything less is beneath us."

  

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set by mj

There were plenty of old men who were heads of their family—(it was not typical to become head of a family so young!)—but that did not mean Grace was overly eager to marry them. It was the way Verity was, though. Connections this, connections that. She wasn't sure why the topic of blood status came up, but it quickly had Grace reevaluating her standards, or at least what she thought were meant to be her standards. Ford had never said muggleborns were off-limits... although, there weren't many of them, were there? She hoped Verity was not opposed to marrying a halfblood, otherwise she might be dismissing perfectly acceptable suitors!

Muggleborns ought to be the least of her concerns, especially since Ministry employees were apparently the only ones suited for them?? Grace's gaze snapped to Verity, confusion written across her face.

"Does that mean healers are below us, too?" she asked, frowning. "That's disappointing if so. When I was a sixth year I tripped in etiquette class and one of the girls told me I would do good to marry a healer so he could help me if I couldn't stay upright. It was intended to be an insult of course," she clarified, "but it made sense! Then again, I've never met a healer in a hospital, and haven't had to because I'm not that graceless, but it wasn't a bad idea at the time."

Obviously she had no intentions to stake out the hospital to entrap a healer with her pretty face, nor did she think it would work anyways, but the thought of Ministry employees being the only respectable husbands made them immediately less appealing.

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"Only if they're in a leadership position within the department." Verity amended. Stable, a suitable income, preferably upper class. Those were the traits they were meant to search for. Not this handsome and kind nonsense. Better women than they had fallen from grace because of handsome men. Melody Finch — now Crouch — threw away a perfectly eligible bachelor for a rake. Verity wondered just how kind Mr Crouch portrayed himself as.

She stood from the vanity and went to sit on the edge of her bed instead. "We have to marry well. You understand that, right? No whirlwind romances with men too young and foolish. Unless they're a prince. Then, you may marry them at whatever age they'd permit."

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set by mj

Verity had limited herself, even more so than Grace had initially thought. How horrible might the season be if she spent all her time calculating a man's worth by his job and position within his family? Some men were more successful than others, that was true, but that didn't mean regular Ministry office employees or healers were not capable of supporting families. How would the country function if that were the case?

She was ready to argue, but Verity got closer, more intense, and suggested that she must marry well. It was not an option in Verity's book. Hopefully Ford's definition of "well" would differ, or at least be more inclusive. Her smile faded from her face and she sat up to sit beside Verity, the book falling off to her side. She nodded solemnly, reaching over to squeeze her sister's hand.

"No worrying about me and whirlwind romances. I'm not a protagonist in some silly novel." She wished she was and that a handsome gentleman would come in his carriage to whisk her away from her home and take her to some grand country manor—but that wasn't happening and Grace knew that. "But you must know that I'm not you. You can't imagine me as some Ministry head's wife, can you?" It was not something she had voiced to anyone before, but she was certain Verity would understand. They were sisters.

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No, Grace would do quite terribly as a department head's wife. She would stumble and stutter so dramatically that none would attend her events other than to mock her. Verity sighed. There weren't a great many situations she was fearful of, but having to snub her sister to better serve her husband's aspirations was one of yer greatest. She might not have a great liking towards Grace, especially not in such confined quarters, but they were still sisters. That bond would never change.

"You have to at least try," she insisted. Verity would do most of the leg work in ensuring Grace and Clementine had favorable matches, but that only went so far. "For Clem. Your match will be a reflection on her, same as mine."

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As intimidating as Verity could be by her side at a party, Grace did not see her as the authority on good matches, nor what would make Clementine happy. Their youngest sister would have her own choices to make herself. She might prove similar to Verity in all of her aspirations, or she may prove to desire a simpler life like Grace. No matter what she did Grace was sure that Clementine would make her own happiness.

"I do not see why Clementine's future happiness depends on two of her sisters marrying into high society. I would hate for her to think she has to marry wealthy or end up the family disappointment." She would very much prefer a scenario in which Verity married well, secured her sisters' happiness with all of her connections, allowing Clementine and Grace to marry within their own class to two good, financially secure men. Would that be so bad?

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Was it only Grace who lacked ambition or the entire Greengrass family? Ford had to at least harbor some semblance of a desire to succeed given his insistence that they marry, but what of the rest of her siblings? Noble was content being a potioneer, even if it was a rather low paying profession. Clementine was still too focused on her education to see the rightful path of marriage. Why must Verity be the only one with a vision? Why must the burden of success land squarely upon her shoulders?

"Well, you and she would both be doing yourselves a great disservice to accept anything but the best." She said with a shake of her head. "There is but one happiness in this life and a lackluster marriage to an ordinary man will not bring it to you. Now, if you please. I wish to have a lie down."

  

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set by mj

It was clear enough that the subject of marriage was one that she and Verity would not agree on anytime soon, but Grace did not have to be happy about it. With an unladylike groan she rolled over and sat up into a sitting position.

"Well I think you out to broaden your definition of happiness, lest you end up settling beneath it." And there was a great chance they would. They had nothing to recommend them to wealthy gentleman other than their heritage and their name. There were plenty of other well-connected girls in the world, and far fewer gentleman seeking wives. Settling, Grace thought, mind not be a terrible thing at all.

"But I will let you rest. Consider what I've said while you do."

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