Despite it's convenient distance to most town events, there was nothing Verity enjoyed about the Bartonburg house. She missed the expansive nature of their country home even more than she missed her dearly departed father. Hogsmeade had its pleasantries, she supposed, but even in her own bedroom she often felt cramped. At least she wasn't like poor Grace who now had to share with Clementine (granted, Clementine didn't use it nine months of the year). But, still, it wasn't what she was accustomed to. More than that, there had yet been an obvious reason stated for the move.

It was these thoughts that accompanied Verity through her morning dressing of her bland colors. Tomorrow, she could resume the wardrobe of a bride-to-be (provided she found a husband, that was), thank Merlin. Mourning was perhaps the most unfortunate fact of Society life. Those of lesser status weren't expected to halt their lives simply because a beloved family member died. No, they donned their black dresses and continued on. They worked and served and did whatever else working folk were expected to do. Meanwhile, Verity had been living the life of a trapped dove for a year and a half. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

"Plenty of time to practice with our brothers, then," Verity teased mildly upon entering the parlor. Although she resented the six months spent 'finishing', she was also grateful to have debuted at the Coming Out ball. It meant six months without Grace glued to her side at all events. She sat herself on the piano bench and smoothed her skirts. "I, for one, cannot wait to be out of these colors."