Morning of January 9th, 1892 — Greengrass Home, Bartonburg

Dull. Plain. Unremarkable. There were no better words to use, and she desperately hoped it was what Mama wanted.

Grace had stared at herself in the mirror for fifteen minutes, trying to convince herself that there wasn't a reason she needed to look pretty, that Mama's words about not embarrassing herself didn't extend to the dress she'd been forced into wearing. This was Verity's day, and she knew that, and yet by the time she'd made it downstairs she'd worked herself into a bundle of nerves. How was she ever expected to get married if she was this bad over someone else's wedding? Grace wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and rounded into the drawing room.

"Is everything going smoothly?" she asked quietly, leaning against the doorframe. She wasn't sure what she could do—if there was anything she could do. Even if there was, she doubted anyone wanted her in the way, but she didn't want to not offer in case they did.

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Fortitude Greengrass

  

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There was nothing left to do before the ceremony, which meant Ford had nothing to distract him from his nerves. If he still felt this way, he had no idea how Verity must be dealing with things. They weren't calling the wedding off. Maybe they should have, but they couldn't afford it. He could only hope that the conversation they'd had last night was mostly nerves, not real misgivings. Hopefully all of this would resolve itself once the wedding was over, and Verity would be happy as Mrs. Swann. Hopefully, hopefully, hopefully, because at this point there was nothing else to do but hope.

He'd been biting the edge of his thumbnail on and off the whole morning, and had just torn it a bit, bringing a small bead of blood out. Damn — he was going to get blood on the cuff of his sleeve if he wasn't careful. Probably no one would notice a stain on his sleeve, but Ford didn't want to take his chances. There was always a chance that Verity would notice, or if not Verity then perhaps Mama. He sucked on the edge of his thumb and paced in the parlor once more, and then spotted his sister in the doorway. He tried to smile at her, but it felt forced. Hopefully he didn't have blood on his teeth.

"Nothing left now but waiting," he answered. "How are you feeling?"

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Grace pushed off from the doorframe and entered the room, moving towards Ford until she was nearly at his side. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling uncomfortable and a little insecure in her dress. "I'm nervous," she admitted, trying and failing to manage a smile, "but that's to be expected. Mama's been harping on me all week about not making a fool of myself today."

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Ford frowned — really, Mama? — and moved to wrap one arm around his sister. "Probably no one will be looking at you," he pointed out. He meant it kindly, though it was also true. Everyone ought to be looking at Verity, during the ceremony and afterwards. Still, he wanted to try and take some of the pressure off of Grace's mind, because he knew how Grace was when she was nervous. She'd enjoy the day much better if she could relax a little bit, but he knew that was easier said than done. He certainly wasn't going to relax any time soon.

"It won't be a very long ceremony, either," he added. "I'm sure you'll do fine." He could have said great, but she probably would have known at that point that he was just trying to comfort her and that he was lying.

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Everything Ford said was something that Grace had tried to convince herself of at one point or another over the past week, yet nothing seemed to be soothing the anxiety she was dealing with. There was a foreboding sense that it wasn't just the wedding she was worried about, but the after, but she wasn't sure how to approach that topic.

"I'm sad she's getting married. Just a little," she admitted, leaning into Ford's side, her head resting against his shoulder.

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Ford's heartbeat picked up a little at Grace's admission, and he swallowed. He wondered if she'd be able to pick up on his anxiety over this, now that she was leaning in against him.

"I get it," he said with gentle sympathy, as he hugged Grace a little tighter. "It's what she wants, though." Ford hoped that was true.

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Grace knew little about Mr. Swann—little compared to what she thought she'd know about Verity's eventual husband. Perhaps she'd set herself for disappointment with her expectations. She wrapped her arms around Ford's midsection and pressed her cheek into his shirt.

"Has she ever said she loves him?" she asked, hoping the answer was a yes. Verity didn't always talk to her about those things, but she might have told him. She couldn't believe that her sister wouldn't eventually marry for love—in hindsight Grace realized that she'd always assumed she would, because love was always supposed to win in the end, even when Verity had insisted there were more important things. Not knowing much about Mr. Swann and relationship with Verity left her uneasy because she didn't know.

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Ford was surprised by the question, and it showed on his face — it was good for him that Grace wasn't watching. Of course Verity hadn't said she loved him. It was so far-fetched that no one else Ford had talked to about this would have even dared suggest it. He and Noble had bantered about the idea that maybe Swann thought he loved her, when they were trying to figure out what his motivation was for this entire bizarre series of events, but at no point had Ford thought Verity might love him. She didn't act like a woman in love, and despite the differences that he and Verity often had, Ford still thought he would have recognized the signs if she was. And if she was in love... they wouldn't have had that conversation last night. No, Verity was doing this because it was the best option presented to her at the moment. It was the lesser of all current evils, and Ford hoped that was enough to find her some happiness in the long term. It would have to be enough, because it was all they had.

But here was Grace, asking if Verity was in love. "Oh, Grace," he said, switching his casual one-arm hug to a full embrace and squeezing her tight. Grace still believed in things like that — even knowing how pragmatic and ambitious Verity had always been, and even knowing what had happened to Verity this year and what impact it must have had on her prospects. Grace still believed that, against all odds, Verity could be in love. Grace still believed that someday she would be in love. Ford hoped she was right, but right now it was hard to believe it. People like them didn't get the luxury of love.

I wish I could give you more than this, Ford thought bitterly, but he said nothing — he just buried his face in her hair to press a kiss to the top of her head.

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Something in the way he spoke to her brought tears to her eyes. They didn't fall, but welled up until Grace could see nothing as she stared into the dark fabric of Ford's shirt. The words Oh Grace spoke more than any other explanation. She felt like a child again—one who had asked a question with sincerity, only to be made to feel silly by the realization that she'd been kept out of the loop either on purpose or by her own naivety. Only this time she didn't feel stupid or embarrassed, but sad. Sad because she knew that love between spouses was real, and because she knew Verity could have found it if she'd given herself the chance. Sad because anything but a happy ending for Verity left her with less confidence that she'd find her own. If Verity—the golden daughter, the ambitious one, the pretty one—couldn't find love, then was it silly for her to continue considering that it was possible for herself?

Maybe it was. Maybe it would have been sensible to give up her hopes and just look for security as it seemed Verity had done. But Grace just couldn't give it up, and now she felt like she was just becoming sensible enough to know she was setting herself up for disappointment. She gripped Ford tight, and the tears fell down her cheeks as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"I don't understand why," she admitted, pressing her face into Ford's shirt to dry her tears, "It doesn't make sense to me."

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Ford understood what she was saying, but how was he supposed to explain it to her? He could go through the list of reasons why Verity marrying Everett Swann was the sensible thing to do — why it was the only thing to do. He'd rehearsed them often enough in his own mind, while he was trying to convince himself, so he knew them all by heart. That wouldn't make her understand, though. Nothing but heartbreak would really make her understand how far-fetched it was to think you could love someone and be happy with them forever. For Grace's sake, Ford hoped she never understood. On the other hand, the pessimist in him, born of his own recent experience, expected it was just a matter of time. There was even a cynical voice in his head that suggested that it might be best if she figured it out sooner rather than later — then they could get to the more likely outcome of a practical, amiable, but not exactly romantic marriage that much faster. It would increase their odds of being able to get through all of this while avoiding financial ruin. That was a burden he wouldn't share with Grace, though — everything he and Noble had been doing for the past two years was done specifically to keep that burden from them.

"Verity's going to be fine," he insisted. "You know how she is. She's going to be great as a wife. She'll get to throw parties and go on trips and make friends with some of the best women in society." And she might never be in love — and if she was, it wouldn't last — but that didn't mean she couldn't be happy. Swann had promised he could keep her comfortable — and maybe that was enough.

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Parties and trips and friends—it all sounded so nice on the surface, but at the core it felt so wrong. Grace had never been the type of girl who dreamed of a socialite's life, surrounded by extravagance and luxury, but Verity had been. And yet—It still felt wrong, because for all Verity had admonished for for believing in a love match, Grace couldn't imagine anyone could truly happy with anything but.

Grace hastily wiped a tear as she pulled back to look at her brother. Her cheeks were red and her eyes puffy, but she tried not to frown. Tried and failed. "She's going to be lonely. Everyone deserves love." She didn't feel silly saying it this time, surprisingly; she felt like everyone else was silly for thinking she could be wrong.

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Grace's statement made his heart hurt, but he did his best not to show it. Ford cracked a smile and clucked his tongue at her, as though she was being silly. "Grace Greengrass," he said, tone trying for levity and he thought doing a passable job of it, despite the waver below his words. "No one could ever be lonely coming from a family like ours."

As if there would be anything Ford or Noble could do for her after the wedding if she really were unhappy. Ford wanted to believe that if it were dire, he'd find a way, but — well. He had Grace and Clementine to look after, and he couldn't expect Noble to put his life on hold forever while he helped Ford deal with all of this. What could he really do, if things were bad? Hope that Grace or Clem married better and that they could take Verity in, that's what. That was really their only recourse... but he wasn't going to put that kind of pressure on Grace.

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Grace tried to smile, but it wasn't doing anything to cure her mood. One of Grace's worst fears was ending up unhappy in marriage. She didn't think a loveless marriage was necessarily miserable, but it wasn't what she wanted, for herself nor her siblings. Grace just hoped Verity had really meant it when she'd talked about how whirlwind romances were silly.

"Maybe not lonely," she conceded, "but... something else. Maybe I'm silly, but—" Spending the rest of her life with someone she didn't care for filled her with a different type of dread. Maybe not lonely, but definitely empty. Her smile faltered. "She once told me that her match would be a reflection on what I might expect. Should I be destined for a match like hers, then?" she asked quietly.

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She wasn't buying it, and Ford didn't blame her. He didn't believe it himself, so how was he supposed to put on a convincing show for his sister? Grace may have been quieter than the rest of the family, but she was also perceptive. She knew better than to be brushed off with such a clumsy attempt at a joke.

At her question, Ford's stomach flipped. Should she be destined for a marriage like Verity's? Of course not. She should have had a happily ever after. She deserved one, and Ford wished he could promise her one. He would have given her the moon on a string if it was within his power, but as it was... how was he supposed to tell her she would get anything more or less than what Verity had received? He couldn't promise her a happy ending. He couldn't promise her love. If he tried, he'd only be lying.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he said with a sigh. "We'll have to see what the season brings."

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Don't get ahead of yourself was the same as saying I don't know, and her heart sunk. It wasn't as if she was silly enough to think Ford could conjure the man of her dreams with a simple incantation, but hearing that it was possible—any reassurance, really, because what he gave her wasn't that—might have been enough to soothe her. She thought to her last season, to the men that she'd been interested in at some point or another, at the man she thought she was interested in now, and... it was very silly of her, wasn't it?

"He doesn't seem like the sort of man she said she wanted to marry," she said finally, "She wanted to marry someone rich and powerful. She told me settling for anything less would make me unhappy in the end. I don't—She wouldn't—Why would she settle for less? What happened?" Ford wouldn't have the answers to those questions, but she needed to voice them to someone out loud. She trusted Ford more than anyone. She didn't think he would think poorly of her for asking.

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Ford pulled back enough to look her in the face as she spoke. "Grace," he said, and only that. She had to know the answers to that question already, or at least suspect them. Ford didn't think she was that naive. Why ask the question? He wasn't going to say it. Not out loud, a few hours before Verity's wedding. And he didn't need to say it, because Grace had to know. Verity's prospects had been shrinking with every passing day of the season, because the social scene was cruel to women who didn't distinguish themselves immediately. She could have weathered that, though — would have, just as Grace had — had she not been kidnapped. A debutante missing for over a day. Any chance she'd had at the kind of marriage she wanted had died before she'd returned home. It was a miracle she'd gotten engaged to anyone, and even more of a miracle that there was nothing obviously objectionable about Swann.

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