1 October, 1892 — Dempsey Estate, Ireland

Twenty minutes ago when they had started their walk around the grounds the skies had looked — not clear, certainly, but also not at all indicative of the downpour they would eventually find themselves in. The leisurely stroll had become a wild dash towards the nearest massive oak tree, which provided some shelter from the raindrops. Victor had taken Christabel's hand as they ran, in case the muddy ground proved too treacherous, but released it when they reached the tangle of roots at the base of the oak. He turned towards her, intending to say something banal about the suddenness of the storm, but when he turned and saw her he was rather taken aback by the sight. Her hair had been flattened by the rain but her cheeks were ruddy from exertion. It was an odd combination, removing some of her natural charm but adding in something alluring. He found himself moved to laughter before he could think better of it.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment, though he didn't quite know exactly what he was apologizing for. He didn't know what had set him to laughing in the first place.

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@"Christabel Dempsey"

  

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Fabulous set by Lady!

Chris found herself slightly breathless as they made it under the shelter of the tree, their dash through the sodden grounds had reminded her strongly of the night of the Wildsmith party. The irreverence to social conventions and staid social moraes that was one of the things she had enjoyed the most to date.

Her dress wasn't exactly soaked but the rain had darkened the colour and it felt heavier with the weight of the water. There were droplets of rain running down her back, and some of the curls, artistically set out by her lady's maid, had succumbed to the rain and were now loose around her face.

When her gaze met his expression surprised her and his sudden laugh caused her to blink in surprise quirking her head. 'What is it?' Chris asked, self-conciously touching her face and hair as though she had expecting to find mud or bird droppings on her clothing. Her mouth formed a soft oh as she tried to read his face 'Is there something on my face?'

Mister Daphnel's dark jacket hide most of the effects of the rain, but he wasn't free from the consequences of the weather either.

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I am my mother's savage daughter, The one who runs barefoot cursing sharp stones

I am my mother's savage daughter, I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice
MJ made glory

He could tell he'd made her self-conscious, and regretted it. He bit his lower lip and did his best to look abashed — but whatever had set him to laughing was still lingering in the air between him, because he was finding it hard to hold back a smile.

"Only your eyes," he joked, to try and set her mind at ease. Her eyes had the same conflict of appearance as the rest of her; brightened by the recent exertion but muddled by the confusion she directed at him. "I don't think I've seen you caught in the rain before," he said by way of explanation (though he was aware this was hardly an explanation at all). "Which is a little surprising, given — does it rain as much in Ireland as it does in Scotland?"

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Fabulous set by Lady!

A smile pulled at her lips at his statement, and she gave into it, albeit a little sheepishly. She knew she was hardly looking her best, bedraggled from the rain as she was, the pins that held her hair back were losing their battle against her slickened locks and she could feel it coming loose. Her dress had almost entirely changed colour - the rain and capillary action from the grass turning the pale pink day dress a different shade altogether. But he had taken pity on her vanity and she appreciated the impulse.

'Oh a fair bit, but not as much as the stereotype would imply' she pulled the silk scarf from her neck, it was too sodden to serve it's original purpose of shielding her throat from the winds chill. She hung it over one of the tree's gnarled lower branches and leaned back against the trunk. 'But I do like it here when it rains, everything looks much more green and verdant, so Romantic.' she mused, taking in the countryside around her home, leaning back against the rough bark her expression soft and far away. Then catching her word usage added quickly, 'With a capital R - very Wordsworthian' Another self-conscious laugh escaped her.

The chill in the air made her laugh almost breathless, although the chill was more to do with the wet than the air temperature, which was unseasonably warm for the time of year. The oak tree's canopy allowed the occasional heavy drop to escape it's branches but for the most part it was doing a decent job of keeping the rain off of them. 'Are soaked through to your waistcoat and shirt?' she asked, unable to tell due to the dark colours, but assuming based on how heavily the rain had done it's work on her.

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I am my mother's savage daughter, The one who runs barefoot cursing sharp stones

I am my mother's savage daughter, I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice
MJ made glory

Victor didn't know Wordsworth enough to interpret her comment, but by now he was used to the occasional poetry reference slipping into their conversations and wasn't bothered by his ignorance. At her question he turned his attention down to his own suit, taking stock for the first time since they'd started dashing through the storm. "Suppose so," he observed, as he fished his wand out from a damp interior pocket. He tapped the scarf she'd hung over the tree branch with the tip, drying it with a spell, then ran one hand through his own hair to shake some of the residual water out of it. "I hadn't noticed. We're lucky it's such a warm day. I don't know that I mind the rain when I'm better dressed for it — though I certainly wouldn't claim the fondness you've just professed." He looked her over again, thinking through something.

"You like the country very much?" he asked after a minute. "You're quite happy living here?"

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Fabulous set by Lady!

[post]chris shrugged diffidently, ’I like visiting’ she clarified, that’s what it felt like these days. It was still her fathers house but it would Ozys house one day and with him married it was feeling that more and more, it was only a matter of time before there were small mini Dempseys screaming on the lawns then no doubt the rest of the siblings would abscond on a more permanent basis. ’Im in London or HogsMeade more often than I’m here’ she admitted, she often thought her sister got more inspiration from their homes rustication than she did. London felt as much like her home as The Wild Atlantic Way did.

’for all its beauty, the society is limited, good for thinking or writing , but often much less interesting than town’ she felt a strange defensiveness towards her home, and even now being honest with him felt like an act of treachery. She gave a small shake of her head, admonishing herself for her own superstitions. Unlike her sister she had little interest in hermetic isolation, she liked society, like witty people to talk with, as lovely as it was there was only so long she could tolerate her lovely families literary navel gazing.

  

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I am my mother's savage daughter, The one who runs barefoot cursing sharp stones

I am my mother's savage daughter, I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice
MJ made glory

Victor chuckled at her characterization. Uninteresting was about as damning a condemnation as any he could think of, coming from her. He put his hands in his coat pockets and smiled at Miss Dempsey. "If the society is limited during the season I imagine it only gets worse this time of year," he remarked. This was as good an opening as any to direct the conversation to a certain topic; he'd been looking for the right moment to bring it up the past few weeks, but any time it seemed to fit into the conversation they had been unfortunately in earshot of someone else, and he had the sense that this was the sort of thing that ought to be brought up privately (or at least in as much privacy as a man and woman were allowed during courtship).

"How would you like to move to Hogsmeade, then?" he asked with a grin. "I've got a vacancy just across the hall."

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Fabulous set by Lady!

Chris couldn't help the laugh that escaped her throat, and she clasped her hands in front of her mouth to save from dissolving entirely into laughing. Not only at his wit, but the strange reality of having been asked after a fashion to marry. It was hardly a declaration of love, undying or otherwise, but as her cheeks coloured she realised she didn't care, as she liked him enough to over look his position on the matter.

She schooled her features into a deadly serious expression, even if she did need to keep pursing her lips to stop from giggling, 'On one condition.' she said her brow arching, and her head tilting back slightly against the tree, in an affected hauty expression. 'We might say that I retorted with something equally witty when accpeting and we might leave out my current state of appearance.' as she said the last she clasped her hands in front of her face nodding her delighted assent.

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The following 1 user Likes Christabel Daphnel's post:1 user Likes Christabel Daphnel's post
   Victor Daphnel

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I am my mother's savage daughter, The one who runs barefoot cursing sharp stones

I am my mother's savage daughter, I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice
MJ made glory

Victor's heart leapt when she said she had a condition. Her laughter implied she was going to accept, but for one gut-wrenching moment he wondered if she was actually laughing in derision and about to deliver a death blow. When she continued his face broke into a smile — both of relief as well as amusement.

"You'll have to come up with something witty, then," he replied, still grinning. "Though I'll give you some time to consider and let me know what it was you said. Send me a letter tonight after you've had a long bath, maybe — it's always easy to come up with witty retorts in the bath." He wasn't sure he could make any promises about not telling anyone how she looked, because it was still making him want to chuckle, but he also didn't know that anyone else would be particularly interested in hearing him describe his bride's appearance at the moment of the proposal. At any rate, he had no intention of immortalizing the moment in poetry.

It felt good to finally have that aired and agreed to, though he still needed to undergo the process of asking her father before things could be made truly official. Still, his shoulders felt lighter than they had a moment ago, despite the weight added by the rain. He had determined to marry this year, but the truth was he had never expected to like his wife so much as he liked Miss Dempsey. He had set his sights on tolerable and well-bred, but Miss Dempsey was intelligent and animated and positively adorable when she clasped her hands in front of her that way. He'd thought this arrangement through from every angle since making her acquaintance, and could not find a single criteria he might imagine that she did not meet — well, except one, and that he was unsure of and could not gather information on until after the wedding.

Though, now that he considered it — they were stuck under the oak tree together, removed from company and likely sheltered from any oversight from the house by virtue of the curtains of rain between them. He'd proposed and she'd accepted. If ever there was a time to press the bounds of propriety and kiss her, this was it. She was even already standing up against the trunk of the tree, as though she'd planned to give him this sort of opening. Victor's heart rate picked up as he let his eyes trail down around the curve of her chest. Having made his decision, he moved forward in a rush and pressed his lips to hers, far more forcefully than the perfunctory way he'd returned their first kiss.

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Fabulous set by Lady!

She nodded her agreement with his plan, caught up in her own pleasant musings and how exactly she would formulate a suitably Dempsey response to Mister Daphnel's proposal and rather enjoying the warmth of his smile. She hadn't even noticed him close the distance between them.

Their first kiss had been tentative, stillness after their flu chase, but this was different it was all motion, frenetic motion and energy. The instant his lips pressed to hers, she let out a small gasp of shock, but it was a split second before she was kissing him back. Her hands pressed against his chest, in what she assumed was a demure way of accepting a kiss before they fisted in the fabric keeping him close, before reaching upwards to wrap around his neck.

She couldn't help the small sighs escaping her throat, she only had his previous kiss to compare it to but she was in danger of finding herself rather overwhelmed. What harm could it do at this stage - to let him kiss her senseless? 'Victor' she breathed, realizing, only distantly, that it was also the first time she had said his first name.

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I am my mother's savage daughter, The one who runs barefoot cursing sharp stones

I am my mother's savage daughter, I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice
MJ made glory

Her hands found their way to his neck, and something sparked in his chest. This was what he'd been uncertain of, and there was a rush of relief when he recognized it. He'd known that he could perform all of the requisite actions to make love to her, because he'd done it before; young men with money did not escape their early twenties without at least one trip to a brothel. What he'd been unsure of was whether it would excite him. The first time he'd been with a woman he'd certainly thought it was exciting, but with the benefit of hindsight he thought it was mostly his nerves about doing something for the first time coming through. That experience couldn't hold a candle to the first time he'd found himself up against a wall in the back corner of the men's retiring room at a party. He'd worried that any subsequent relationship with a woman would be similarly dulled, but this was — nice. Not perfect, because her inexperience was apparent despite her enthusiasm, but pleasant, and the spark was there to be nurtured into something more with time.

(Maybe things would have been simpler if it hadn't been; that certainly would have given him a clearer conscious when it came to Leonid Fisk. And it wasn't as though she would be disappointed, if the spark wasn't there — she had no basis for comparison, so as long as he was kind and attentive and kept his extramarital relationship far from her purview he could certainly make her happy. He could have carried on just as he had been, if he wasn't at all attracted to her. Now the idea of doing so made him feel vaguely guilty towards both parties, as though he might be betraying them both).

"Belle," he returned, pushing these thoughts from his mind for the moment. He let one hand wander down to her breast and leaned in to kiss the back edge of her jaw, then her neck just below her ear. "Let your hair down. We can blame the rain."

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Fabulous set by Lady!

Her eyes were clouded and hooded, as she arched her neck to allow him better access to her throat, her back arching reflexively under his ministrations. She was struggling to form coherent and complete thoughts, and she didn't much mind. If this was the appeal of the opposite sex , then she might just regret not having been married earlier. She liked the way he said her first name in a heated moment, sure she would want to hear just how heated he could become.

She nodded with desire, and as her head lulled back, one of her hands unwound from his neck, where it was been running through the damp hair at the nape of his neck, to tug on first one, then a second pin, and it was all that it took to undo her hair, sending it tumbling around her shoulders. 'Like this?' she breathed her voice edged with passion, she returned her hand to his hair. She wanted to ask how she was doing but she wasn't sure she could string them together to ask.

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I am my mother's savage daughter, The one who runs barefoot cursing sharp stones

I am my mother's savage daughter, I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice
MJ made glory

"Like that," he confirmed, reaching up with his free hand to twirl a strand of her hair around one finger. He moved his mouth back to hers and slid his hand up to caress her cheek, then move back to brush through the edge of her dark tresses. He decided to give up on fondling her breast; with several layers of wet clothes between his hand and her skin, there was no feeling to be had there. He may as well have had his hand on a modiste's mannequin for all the thrill it provided, but this was a problem he assumed would be solved on their wedding night when she was wearing less. Victor let his hand trail down over her waist and towards her hips, but ran into much the same problem — all he could feel was her corset, which lacked the intimacy he craved. The bare skin from her shoulder up to her jawline, though, and the feeling of her mouth on his — he was enjoying this, far more than he'd expected to.

She was enjoying it, too. He could tell from the way she was breathing, and from the warmth in her cheeks. He had never been with a woman who was excited by him — and perhaps that was half the trouble in his dealings with them, when it really came down to it. Miss Dempsey was going to be different than anything he'd done previously, he determined. Even if there hadn't been that spark to nurture on his end, it would have been exhilarating enough to be able to provide that to someone else.

Victor broke away from the kiss — before they could get carried away, since this was not the ideal time or place for anything more than a kiss — but stayed where he was, with one hand around the back of her waist and the other still tangled in her hair. "Finding you was the best stroke of luck in my life," he said, beaming at her. A mischievous glint came to his eye as he added a joke for which he half expected her to kick him: "I'll give you a great rate, for the room."

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Fabulous set by Lady!

It was only her hair, but she felt wild and unbound, no man beyond her brothers, and not even them since she had entered her late teens, had seen her like this, her hair not neatly arranged, and no man had ever seen her flushed with passion, chest heaving, and lips slight swollen and pink from kissing. Her clothing, her very skin felt too tight and she wanted to press herself closer against the heat radiating from his chest through his shirt.

He broke their kiss, and she couldn’t help the small noise of disappointment that bubbled up in her throat, but exceptionally pleased that he hadn’t pulled back altogether. Her own hands pressed against his chest as she allowed him to hold her close to him.

The warmth in his words surprised her a little, inspire of their very activity she had not expected anything amounting to tenderness. She knew well enough that a man’s lusts took much less encouragement than his ardour, but what she perceived as tenderness in his words gave her pause in her own and she leaned back a little to smile up at him with tenderness of her own. ’and I you’, she went up on tip toe and pressed another kiss to his lips ’and I’m sure I shall find some way to make good my rent account’

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I am my mother's savage daughter, The one who runs barefoot cursing sharp stones

I am my mother's savage daughter, I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice
MJ made glory

He laughed — that was clever, so she seemed to have recovered her wits after the surprise of the proposal. "I'm sure you will," he said, moving his thumb against her temple in a gentle caress. He liked the look of her with her hair down and wild.

"I planned to marry this year regardless of how the season went," he admitted. "I thought I'd settle for good enough. I didn't expect to marry someone interesting and intelligent. Adventurous and adorable and amiable. I didn't expect you."

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Fabulous set by Lady!

There he was again, saying things that tugged at deep and affectionate places within her, even if his words were once again hardly the declarations or flowery words that books had told her that should be expected of a proposal - he certainly hadn’t said he wished to marry her because he loved her. He had effectively said she exceeded his low expectations, but there was something in his turn of phrase, the way he said it, with the pads of his fingers super heating the skin of her temples, that made her smile inspite of herself.

She didn’t have words to answer him, so instead she took the opportunity to steal another kiss - an activity that she quickly realising she going to enjoy immensely about being married.

No, he didn’t love her, but as they headed back to the house, her waist length hair drying in it’s natural curl in the autumn air, she had to wonder if she was at risk of loving him.

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The following 1 user Likes Christabel Daphnel's post:1 user Likes Christabel Daphnel's post
   Victor Daphnel

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I am my mother's savage daughter, The one who runs barefoot cursing sharp stones

I am my mother's savage daughter, I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice
MJ made glory