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 1894. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Victor recalled having a frank conversation with Miss Dempsey the day before, and being generally satisfied with how it had gone. Unfortunately, even by the end of the party that night he was having trouble recalling exactly what he'd asked her. He hadn't planned on having a direct conversation with her (he supposed that had been the alcohol), and in the clear light of the next morning couldn't fathom which questions he might have asked her to determine her suitability as a wife. He could not press forward on the blind assumptions that he'd managed to cover all the bases in one spontaneous conversation while a little drunk.
Of course, this train of thought was only putting something else into stark relief: he didn't actually know what he wanted in a wife. He had a laundry list of things he knew annoyed him, which he wanted to avoid, but beyond that... how had he begun this process without coming up with a particular list of traits to seek out?
He wanted to talk through this with someone, but his options were limited. A friend would have teased him or lost patience with him. His mother might have taken it as a sign that she needed to be more involved in directing the process, which wasn't his intention. His younger brothers were, Victor generally thought, too ignorant in the ways of the world to have good advice about anything; neither of them were looking to marry soon, so they likely hadn't given the matter more thought than he had. There was someone in his home that he knew must have given the matter a great deal of thought, though — only from the other side of things.
"Bea," he said over breakfast that morning, after lingering long enough that their mother had left the table. His brothers hadn't been at breakfast; one was sleeping off a hangover and the other was staying with friends at the moment. "What do you think makes a good marriage?"
Beatrice looked up from her book, spoon of porridge halfway to her mouth, and blinked slowly in suprise at hearing her name - her face reminiscent of a stray dog caught before a carriage. Breakfast, once mother left if she joined them at all, were normally silent affairs in which she was the only consistent factor in an otherwise revolving cast. Mother had already gone over her social calendar so she hadn't actually expected Victor to speak to her - not there morning after his birthday trip.
"Uhh... ah a good marriage? I think that really depends on the individual," Bea drawled, glancing between the book and her brother before setting the book down. She knew logically that her brother had been searching for both a husband for her but also a wife for himself but his own hunt wasn't something they often talked about. "I mean, I guess as a bare minimum it would be nice if it was someone you trusted and enjoyed the company of.
"At a minimum," Victor agreed, but honestly he had trouble imagining what else might go into it, aside from sexual attraction, which he obviously wasn't going to discuss with his sister. If he trusted someone, that meant he could allow them to handle the running of the household, the rearing of his children, and the management of the family's social image. Although he wasn't yet technically the man of the house, a trustworthy wife would be a boon to his mother, as she would be able to ease many of the responsibilities Mrs. Daphnel currently had and allow her to focus more on Beatrice. Trusting someone encompassed a lot, of course. Maybe the better question was how he would know that a woman was someone he could trust, after so brief an acquaintance.
"Is trust a symptom of a certain character or disposition, or is it built through a demonstration of skills?" he mused. If it were skills, he could simply ask about them. If it was something intrinsic, he didn't know how he'd assess it except through spending copious amounts of time with her. Probably through a formal courtship.
He was less concerned about enjoying her company. He'd thought that point was mostly an unachievable dream based on most of the debutantes he'd forced his way through conversations with, and had spent plenty of time telling himself it wasn't really that important, at least at the outset. He could grow to tolerate whoever he married, if she was upholding her end of their partnership. At the very least, they could find their own rhythm and minimize the time they spent doing any unpleasant bonding activities.
This was before he'd lit the garden roses on fire with Miss Dempsey, of course. Now enjoying someone's company didn't seem impossible after all.
What she wanted in a marriage was something she - like most people like her - had thought about quite a bit. When she'd spend her whole life in this commitment. But his next statement... her look turned from one of suprise to shock. Was he kidding her? He had to be right? "Um, Victor? You know, trust?" she shook her head, eyes narrowed. The same thing you have with your family? Your friends? Me - assumedly. Trust isn't just something you can pick out because of something like hair color or an ability to play a violin."
Victor rolled his eyes at her. "Well, fine. But I've known you all your life. Most of my friends I've known for years, at least. It's not as though one has that amount of leisure when choosing a husband or wife," he pointed out. "If there's no way to shortcut the process, it might as well not be a consideration at all. One could just as well marry anyone and simply hope that trust develops over time."
"Well, you always get to know her family members and any friends she might have. It might give you an idea of what she might be like outside the ballroom. Or you could even look closer to home. Do any of your friends have sisters? Or what about Melvin or Oscar. They are bound to know some of the girls in their years and close. And I know mine." She shrugged, looking over to her book again before resorting to a spoonful of her porridge.
She frowned and shrugged, unsure exactly what her brother wanted from her. He was asing her of all people. If she knew the secret to finding a perfect partner, she would still be sitting in her childhood home with three failed season behind her? It was a miracle her mother hadn't shipped her off to be betrothed to some distant cousin who'd never met her and didn't know what a failure she was.
"At the very least, it should be easy enough to find someone you tolerate. There are plenty of girls out there." Maybe he could set his standards high and take out one of those big named debutantes and maybe then she'd look a bit more appealing.
"I never said I was talking about myself," he pointed out, but she seemed to have found him out. It hadn't been much of a ruse, he supposed. If he'd been curious about her thoughts about her own marriage there was no reason to have the conversation now and not last year, or the year before.
He shifted back in his chair, leaning one arm against the back of the empty chair besides him. "Anyway, I don't need any help finding women." Quite to the contrary, he found far too many of them for his liking. Hopefully that was coming to an end, if he was right about moving things forward with Miss Dempsey. "Just determining which is the right one to pursue."
Maybe she was dull? She hadn't actually ever realized at one point that Victor had been trying to imply this was about anyone other than himself. She knew he was starting to look and wasn't necessarily like he had actually ever asked her what she wanted. If he had, maybe they wouldn't still be here. Her ideal partner was maybe someone of the academic type. Not someone illusive like their father but just quite. Happy to stay home and read. Not someone who'd force her to dress up and play a part. Victor seemingly wanted something very different.
"Wait you found someone already?" She felt her gut clinch and her hands dropped into her lap, gripping tightly on the fabric of her dressing robe. How could she be such a failure? How had he managed something she'd struggled with for three years in a matter of months? "Then why are you asking me?" Her words were choked, tone hinting the creeping panic setting in as the second half of his statement flew over her head. She wanted to run. Leave the table and go back to her room where it was her space and safe.
Victor quite missed the shift in Beatrice's tone. She'd asked a question and he was busy feeling self-satisfied with the answer, and oblivious to her mood as a result. For all his frustration earlier this year, he did feel rather confident in his choice at the moment — or at least, as confident as one could be, never having done this before and not knowing precisely which traits he was seeking in a bride.
"Well, because I value your opinion, dear sister," he teased. "I'll see if I can meet any of her friends. That was a sound piece of advice."
"Ah, um, let me know if I can be of anymore help," she stuttered, catching on the L sound. Still Bea wouldn't look up and meet her brother's eyes - not that he was watching her anyways. Instead she watched the skin of her hands go clammy pale from there tightness of her grip.
The irony of his statement - of the whole situation was not lost on her. That Victor had come to her. Thanked her for her help when all she'd done was parrot back the words so many others had told her.
Now that he had actually spent a moment looking at Bea, it was impossible to miss that she was uncomfortable. He didn't know exactly what had set her off. He frowned faintly, debating whether he ought to try to dig into why or just let her have her moment internally. Asking prying questions might not be appreciated, but could he guess what had started bothering her? Was she anxious about the idea of someone else living in the house with them? Victor had no particular plans to move out of the house, since his father had no plans that he knew of to return any time soon. That could very well have been it.
"I'm sure you'll like her," he said in a tone of encouragement. He watched his sister's expression to see if this seemed to assuage any of her doubts.
He thought she was worried about liking her? That thought hasn't even crossed her mind yet. Which meant in his attempts to assure her, he only given her yet another thing to worry about. And she supposed that the real question wasn't even if Bea liked her but if this unknown woman would even tolerate Bea? Our would she find her annoying and convince her brother to marry her off to the first man he saw?
But letting him believe that his prompt was her concern was easier than trying to make him understand her actually, well original concern. Both were actual concerns now thanks to him. Victor had a way that... well he meant well - she thought he did at least - but typically somehow left her feeling worse with her anxiety than better. She could hunt Jasper down later. He wasn't perfect but he was better than Victor. And maybe he'd let her borrow the puppy for some cuddles.
"I'm sure I will, she squeezed, offering a tight smile. "You'll have to let m know how it goes. Have you told mother yet?"
Victor shook his head. "I don't want to bring it up to mother until I'm absolutely sure," he explained. He felt fairly confident about moving things forward with Miss Dempsey, but he wasn't entirely committed yet. If he learned something about her that caused him to change his mind, he didn't want his mother to worry about the false start. More importantly, if there was something particularly dreadful he didn't yet know about Miss Dempsey, he didn't want his mother to question his judgement and feel she needed to be more involved with his marital search moving forward.
"Have you even spoken to her or her family about this?" Bea questioned, turning back to her porridge instead of having to look directly at him. It made it easier. Put some distance into rather than having it feel so real and now. That and the fact he hadn't told Kate yet made it feel far less serious. "I assume not if you haven't told Mother. But it doesn't hurt to make sure she is even interested. Less you chase up the wrong tree."
Her stomach clenched as she swallowed. She wasn't sure about this. She wanted to flee up to her room. To her book.
This comment perplexed him. Chase up the wrong tree? He had never imagined that he would have particular difficulty securing his choice of bride, only in choosing one. He didn't imagine himself the handsomest man in the world, but he had more than enough qualities to recommend him. Why would someone refuse him?
Romance, he supposed, but this seemed less like a hard stop and more like a temporary obstacle to be overcome. He only had to woo someone while he was courting them, at any rate; it wasn't that much time.
"She'll be interested," he returned with confidence. "I'll be charming."
"You've made she she doesn't have any other interests elsewhere? Or that she doesn't have any other suitors?" Victor thought, she swore, that she was the dense one. In reality, she would place money on the fact it was him that was dense. She was just too aware of everything and he wasn't aware enough. Maybe that was the problem. By the time it had come to her, her older two brothers had taken up all the confidence there was to doll out and she hadn't gotten any then. Because it didn't seem to her that it had even crossed Victor's mind that this supposed girl might not even be interested in him. Not everyone was like her, desperate for their one and only offer.
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