November 11, 1889 - Ministry of Magic

Lucille had learned over the past month that she did not do well with the mourning rituals expected of her by society. She disliked wearing black and hated being stuck at home with nothing to do and nobody to see. Granted, if Lucille were truly honest with herself, that was also in part because of the scandal she had caused. She had felt the backlash of her hasty marriage and abandoned intended through not just a lack of social calls and invitations, but in the words hidden in her cousins’ letters and the silence from her own two best friends. She couldn’t blame them, knew it was for the best, but she missed speaking to someone other than her husband. Sure, she could speak with her mother in law, but she still had the sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Lukeson wasn’t quite sure what to make of her new daughter in law.

Over the past month and a half Lucille had tried to occupy her time, reading, shopping, embroidering, but she still felt the length of the day when Ace was at work, still felt the loneliness she had always felt, although perhaps she felt it more keenly now - knowing she couldn’t simply send out an invitation to ward away her woes.

The whole situation was enough that in the past few weeks Lucille had felt herself brought to tears at the simplest things: embroidery threads knotting of their own accord, misplaced letters (somehow she never seemed to remember when she set one down), even Ace leaving for the day - although she did have enough dignity to wait until he had left for the day. It almost felt as if she were going insane. Had she always been so emotional? Lucille tried to think about it but couldn’t remember her emotions swinging so quickly from happy to sad before. For the moment, Lucille was content to blame it on her womanly cycles. Her’s was late, but that was no different than the normal, her’s had never been very predictable - a fact which had always had Lucille fretting that she would get it at the least opportune time.

Hoping to bide some time away from the solitary domain of her thoughts, Lucille had decided to surprise Ace at work with lunch. She’d had a maid pack up a meal for them and had headed to the Ministry. The problem was, now that she was here she was completely lost.

Never in her twenty years had Lucille had occasion to visit the Ministry of Magic offices. She had always considered them a place where men went to capably solve the problems of their society. Sure, she was aware that women worked there - just not women of her set. With no living male relative to appropriately call upon for such an occasion, Lucille had, quite simply, come to the conclusion that she should never need to go to the Ministry of Magic, nor had she truly hoped to. Which of course presented her current problem.

The welcome witch had been nice enough to direct her from the atrium to the lifts, but after the first corner Lucille had found herself questioning whether the woman had said to turn left or right. As if one hall might speak to her over the other Lucille stood looking back and forth, trying not to panic, or (even worse) to cry.

Which way was it? Right? Left? Should she just give up this venture? Would Ace laugh at her for such a gesture? Would she be wasting his time? She would be, wouldn’t she? She should just turn back now. In her heart she knew that Ace would love to see her, but her mind was quickly spiraling away with possibilities that he wouldn’t and it felt like she had no control over it.

A tear rolled down her cheek, much to her mortification. Quick to recover her own decorum, Lucille hastily wiped it away with her glove. She was here, she might as well finish what she had started.

As if summoned by her thoughts someone passed her quickly headed to their own destination. “Excuse!” Lucille called, likely looking like a hopeless sad lost little puppy. She hurried after the person. “Excuse me, could you help me?” Hopefully her voice didn’t sound as hysterical to them as it did to her own ears.

  

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Thank you MJ for an amazingly Lucy set!

Uncle Bob hadn’t wanted to be left at home today, so Ewart had done what any responsible person would do, and brought him along to work. The Experimental Charms were not exactly what one would call in the thick of things (rather, they were in the thick of very much their own things), but were located in a little wing of their own - as such, it had been quite a trek to the nearest tearoom to get Uncle Bob a snack when lunchtime rolled around.

He had just ventured there - in a plum paisley waistcoat under a long set of teal velvet robes (he had never spared the Ministry any right to having a businesslike uniform, please, he would be as experimental in fashion as people could be with charms!), a funny looking amulet clattering around his neck and Uncle Bob perched on his shoulders (wearing a little set of trousers, too!), tail curled round his neck and hands grabbing at Ewart’s top hat.

Now that Ewart had gone to all the trouble of trying to feed him, of course, with one hand full of cashew nuts and the other holding a banana, Uncle Bob had no apparent interest in eating.

Monkeys, for you.

He hadn’t gotten very far when both he and the monkey heard a plaintive cry of excuse me.

“Quite excused, my dear,” Ewart said cordially, turning and offering the young lady in black an easy smile. He didn’t know if she had been talking to him, necessarily, but Ewart had never been hurried in anything, and he wasn’t hurrying back to work now. Not when someone desired his help, no sir! “What can we do for you?” She looked rather upset, poor child. And rather more out of place here than the monkey.

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It was only after the gentleman paused and turned to look at Lucille that she had her first moment of doubt in his abilities to get her where she intended to go. The man wore teal wizarding robes more fitting to a carnival, or even perhaps an opera stage costume, than to the Ministry of Magic Halls. From beneath the robes she could see a plum colored vest, a rather handsome one that Lucille would have thought would be well set off by black, or silver, or really any color rather than teal. Despite his attire, he cared himself as one might expect a carnival ringmaster would. The entire image was completed by the act that a monkey of all things sat perched on his shoulder. It stared at Lucille as if she had interrupted something terribly important. It’s beady little eyes keeping careful watch of her then turning to look at the banana the gentleman held forgotten in his hands. Surely this gentleman did not work for the Ministry!

In Lucille’s mind Ministry workers fell into two categories. One, the somber old men who were nothing but black wizarding robes and scowls on their faces. Or two, her husband. By whom she now measured most men. Her husband was respectable, not at all gaudy, but young and handsome, and most importantly handsome. Since this man did not fall into either category by Lucille’s standards, it was completely reasonable therefore that she should think that he could not possibly work for the Ministry of Magic. No, it was much more reasonable to think that he was merely a visitor like herself to these respectable halls.

Visitor or not, he might perhaps know where she was going. She had, after all, caught his attention, and rather felt she shouldn’t be making such a fuss in the hallways of the main artery of their government. Not to mention he had been quite kind in both his words and the fact that he had even turned around. So she pushed aside her doubt and smiled at the man - despite the monkey’s glare. He was amiable enough that perhaps they might even find their way together if he did not work at here nor know where they were going.

“I’m trying to find my husband’s office,” Lucille began, proud that her voice held no hint of the quiver she felt in it. “But I am afraid I’m rather lost.” It didn’t help that for some reason she simply could not remember which direction the lady had mentioned. Or for that matter, now that she was truly considering it, what floor the Welcome Witch had directed her to get off the lift at. “He works in the department of education?” While not a question it lilted like one, lifting up at the end as if to emphasize just how out of place she truly felt here.

  

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Thank you MJ for an amazingly Lucy set!

Lost had never been a particularly affecting condition to Ewart, who enjoyed his wanderings, whether or not he knew where he was going, but he could see the young lady was quite beset by it. He could scarcely bear to see such torment on a young person’s face. The young worried too much these days: they did not seem to know that not giving a damn about anything was what being young was about.

“Now, now, I’m sure he can’t possibly have changed career since you last spoke to him,” Ewart said jovially, referring obliquely to her quizzical tone, as though she wasn’t convinced any of what she was saying was true. “Education, we’ll need the lift for that,” he continued with an airy gesture of his banana-hand, “but I’ll wager we’ll be able to track him down eventually.”

“Ewart Fraser,” he introduced himself as a cheerful aside, offering her a bow (Uncle Bob giving a screech as he clung on tightly to Ewart’s shoulders), before ushering her politely into the lift whose doors had just cranked open.

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The gentleman was right, Lucille, thought, attempting a smile at the cheerful tone he started with. Ace couldn’t have changed jobs since last evening, but now that she was thinking about it, could he have? What if he had told her it was one department, when in reality it was another? What if she had misheard him when he had first told her where he worked? Lucille, perhaps naively, had simply assumed that the name Ace Lukeson bore simply because of his birth and rank, would be enough that everyone at the Ministry of Magic would be aware of who he was and where he worked. Afterall for much of Lucille’s life the name Flint had carried a great deal of meaning like that, she had always felt the Lukeson name did as well. What she had not considered was that the Ministry of Magic was not a social ballroom where such things were the only things that matter, nor was it quite as small and intimate as she had first thought. So while she had thought Ace might not have changed jobs, she clearly knew so little as to agree that he couldn’t have. This man, who she still doubted worked at the Ministry, wouldn’t know either. But to at least save her own reputation from complete shambles (she did not, afterall, need Witch Weekly reporting this incident as anymore embarrassing than it was already feeling) she didn’t question what she felt the man had said in jest. “No sir.” She agreed with a small rather unconvinced smile and tone.

At least when he mentioned the lifts that sounded like what the Welcome Witch had told her. Lucille’s eyes, however, were caught upon the banana waving in his hand, as were - it appeared - the monkey’s. Even if the man didn’t know where he were going then Lucille was grateful that he at least seemed determined to help her find Ace regardless of her own optimism in this venture. “Thank you.” She added gratefully, even as her voice drew the monkey’s small beady eyes again.

As the man dipped into a bow, the creature screeched, startling Lucy - who recovered before the man fully stood upright again (the monkey glaring at her as if it had been her fault he had been worried of falling). Gathering herself together Lucille tried to ignore the creature altogether, as it did seem he would be her companion for however long it took to find Ace.

“A pleasure to meet you Mr. Fraser.” Lucille demurred a creature breed of politeness and culture, she dipped into a curtsy. “Mrs. Lucille Lukeson.” She told him, almost cringing at the sound of her name. She loved being married, loved being Ace’s wife, but she had said her names so few times that it still invoked images of her mother in law rather than herself. Not to mention with all the gossip and print about her Lucille almost found herself worried what he might think of her. Perhaps he wouldn’t wish to help her anymore at all simply because of her recent actions. She’d never had such an issue before. The name Miss Lucille Flint had bore no scandals, was of the upper crust of society, and there had been little to speak of other than the fortune she was to inherit. While Miss Flint had had her good name she had not been happy, Lucille could hardly bare to think of her time as Miss Flint rather than Mrs. Lukeson and was quite sure that when things died down and she could say her name proudly again, then it would be synonymous with happiness.

She had been entirely silly this whole time, Lucille realized when Ewart ushered her onto a lift. They had been right off the hall she had stood in and she gratefully followed him into the contraption. She had never been in a lift before and her eyes took in the bars and the small space with some trepidation. Never had she expected to feel like a country bumpkin before, yet here she was, in the ministry of magic with all her good breeding and schooling and she felt more worried about the lifts than she had ever felt over broomsticks, floo powder, or even the moving staircases at Hogwarts (which in her youth had provided a great deal of anxiety to the height fearing young lady she had been then).

  

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Thank you MJ for an amazingly Lucy set!

Mrs. Lucille Lukeson, she replied. A notorious newlywed, then. Ewart could not say he paid a great deal of attention to society’s constant a-nattering, though nor could he pretend he didn’t pick up the papers once in a while. However, if he thought anything anew of the young lady standing before him, he made no sign of it. Just - “Splendid name,” Ewart said rather guilelessly, and with no hiccup to his cheerfulness, “fabulous alliteration.”

“This is Uncle Bob, by the by,” he added, once they had parked themselves in the lift, and having noticed she and the monkey stealing awkward looks at each other, as people were occasionally wont to do. Ewart handed the banana up to the monkey on his shoulder and returned his attentions to young Mrs. Lukeson, doing his best to be curiously neutral, and neutrally curious. “I suppose you haven’t visited the Ministry often, then, have you?” He inquired, putting together two-and-two about the new husband as the lift shot off sideways to who-knew-where, charting its course as only it and the operators knew how. (Ewart could travel in these lifts all day.) “Ghastly place, isn’t it? What think you?” He added, gesturing at the ‘out there’ of it all, all those damned hallways and offices.

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Lucille liked the ring of her name, it was a beautiful sound, rolling off the tongue: Lucille Lukeson. Better than Lucille Flint, in her opinion. But the gentleman’s acknowledgement of this only made her feel a bit more pride in the new name. “Thank you.” She replied with an almost bashful smile. If it weren’t for the rumors flying around then perhaps Lucille might not hesitate to take pride in her name, to hold her head up and declare it to the whole world, for it was a beautiful name. She simply had not considered before their hasty marriage how she might feel about simply introducing herself to others.

As the lift’s doors closed Lucille’s own worries about the wrought iron grating that locked her inside the moving box were interrupted by the man’s introduction of the monkey - the monkey! Of course the monkey had a name, Lucille shouldn’t have been surprised. Especially as the man presumably was only carrying around a banana (something that was awfully fragrant for such a small space as a lift, if Lucille did say so herself) for the monkey and it was perched on his shoulder. Hearing his name the monkey looked at the man who handed him the banana then focused its eyes back on Lucille. She didn’t think she’d ever eat another banana again, she determined as she tried not to wrinkle her nose from the smell. Certainly the man was visiting and actually worked for a carnival not actually for the ministry. “Nice to meet you Uncle Bob.” She murmured to the monkey who had by now deemed her rather uninterested compared to its snack and was pointedly ignoring her. It was a peculiar name indeed, but the man seemed rather peculiar himself and so she couldn’t really reason why it would be anything other than odd - but for some reason she had almost expected a mundane name like: John or Tom.

Was the lift supposed to go sideways? Lucille panicked as it began to move, having expected to go up or down not off to the side. But the man beside her seemed nonplussed so perhaps this was exactly how it was supposed to go. She focused on the man’s conversation instead. “No, sir. This is my first time here.” She admitted a bit bashfully, a soft blush blooming on her cheeks. “I supposed it rather shows, doesn’t it?” At least she could tease herself some small bit over the whole ordeal, at least when discussing it with a perfect stranger.

“Ghastly?” Lucille looked Mr. Fraser curiously. “I think it is all quite…. Formidable. But I’m not sure I’d call it ghastly.” She didn’t feel like she had quite captured the … essence of the Ministry of Magic, but at that particular moment it certainly did feel rather formidable.

  

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Thank you MJ for an amazingly Lucy set!

He would not go so far as to say the young lady looked entirely at ease, but she did not look quite as dismayed as she had, standing lost in the hallway. And after all, she was at ease enough to greet the monkey. (A monkey always made for a fair distraction, Ewart had found. He was rather fond of a serendipitous distraction.)

Not only was there the matter of her recently-notorious-name to contend with, of course, Mrs. Lukeson had never set foot in the Ministry before, so she said. “Ah,” Ewart protested with a mild twinkle in his eye, “but I have been here nigh on twenty years and still find myself occasionally lost!” (Whether this was actually a comfort to her as he had intended it was up to her opinion of him, Ewart supposed, given he was supposed to be showing her the way.)

And she did not think it ghastly, yet. “Well,” Ewart allowed, factoring that in as the optimism of youth, and an innate politeness to well-bred young ladies like the blonde here, who would also never be expected to spend even a day here in her lifetime, “you have not seen enough of it yet, my dear. I assure you there is many a ghastly corner in this dungeon.” Rows and rows of men hunched over desks in cubicles and pacing in their offices like one kept zoo animals! It was no wonder Uncle Bob liked it here.

“Still, the Department of Education is certainly better than some,” Ewart professed - to cheer her up about things further, and also simply because in a building where he approved of very little, education was an important exception (though that the Ministry should be allowed to meddle in it, not so much). “A noble choice of career. Nearly ended up there myself.”

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At his admission Lucille felt mildly reassured, but at the same time unease rocked her stomach. If he had worked here so long and still got lost what business did she ever have trying to find her way through the ministry? She gave him a weak smile to show her appreciation for what he was attempting to do.

“As you work here, and I do not, I shall have to admit that your opinion likely weighs heavier than my own.” She humored him with another small smile, still finding it hard to believe that he worked here altogether.

A true smile did grace her lips at the acknowledgement that the man found her husband’s job to be a good one. She supposed there was some pride to take in that. As long as Ace liked his job Lucille felt it was good for him. It wasn’t like he needed to work after all. “Nearly, sir?” She had to admit that she was curious about what department he had indeed ended up in, it sounded as if there was a story there.

  

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Thank you MJ for an amazingly Lucy set!

Quite the logical little lady, wasn’t she? Ewart grinned gracefully at her deference. “Oh no, my dear,” he protested genuinely, “you are quite entitled to your opinion.” He was right, of course, about the Ministry’s ghastliness, but he was also not one to need confirmation from anyone else in his beliefs; he had certainty enough for anyone, and he admired self-confidence when he saw it in others. It was rare enough that a person could be true to themselves without also swinging horribly to self-aggrandisement.

The lift doors cranked open on the right floor as Ewart answered the latter. “I was ensnared by experimental charms too swiftly,” he explained - this being when he had finally succumbed to Ministry work at all - “so am on the committee there. But I am a historian in true profession.” He smiled again, jovially. “Magical Education, here we are!”

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It was rare that someone decided that Lucille had an opinion to anything. She had always been taught to defer opinions to others, to quietly voice her’s but only in the right circumstances. Those circumstances did not include an elderly gentleman who was kind enough to escort her through the maze that the Ministry was. She gave a small smile to the man, but left the matter well enough alone.

Experimental charms. That seemed quite fitting, Lucille thought as the lift doors opened. The gentleman seemed someone who if he did indeed work at the ministry would be in something that had the name of esperimental in it.

Lucille smiled at him as she stepped through the lift doors finally in the right place. “Thank you again, I appreciate it. Both of you.” She nodded at the monkey before giving the gentleman a small curtsey. “It was a pleasure to meet you.” She added, realizing that for all her doubts this did seem to be the truth of the matter. The man might have been eccentric, but he had quelled her nerves and helped her at the same time, something she could truly be grateful for.

Then when the niceties had been said she made her way down the hall, hoping to see Ace’s red head before he spotted her. Perhaps this had not been so bad an idea after all.

  

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Thank you MJ for an amazingly Lucy set!