When their father had passed so close to Christmas it was Verity who ensured the last journal he purchased made it beneath the tree for her youngest sister. She hadn't affixed her name to the gift, nor would she ever. For once, it wasn't pride or recognition she sought after, but just the simple gesture of caring for her sister. There was another journal she spotted earlier in the week at Flourish and Blotts that would likely make it beneath the tree for Clementine this year. It's warm brown leather had the prettiest, and admittedly simple, floral pattern etched onto the cover.

Eager to join in on the additional gifts to beg for, Verity easily commented, "if we're to have new shoes and ribbons, might I ask for a new parasol as well? Think of how lovely we would look should our every accessory perfectly coordinate." Unlike Grace's shoes, Verity's parasol was in near mint condition from its disuse. So, the likelihood of her obtaining one was minimal.

Regardless of his status as head of household, Ford was altogether too young to be in pursuit of a wife. He had yet to achieve any notable position within the ministry, their family had no property to speak of, and, perhaps the least favorable remembrance of all, he was spared only by Grace's bumbling nature in terms of social skills. Noble might've been able to secure a wife were his and Ford's positions in the family swapped, but even he had little going for him. No, there would be no heiress for either of her brothers anytime soon. Not if Verity had any say in the matter.

"I should think Ford would be wise to see his wards taken care of before pursuing a heiress." Verity said a tad more seriously than her two sisters. She didn't mean to be so stern with them, and typically wasn't, but the stress of what the new year was to bring was weighing on her heavily.