March 24th, 1891 — Malfoy Residence, Wellingtonshire
Ben would really rather not have been here.
For one thing, he wasn't looking forward to his first conversation with his sister since he'd intentionally shattered the pedastal she had him placed on. The way she'd left his garden last Monday night was still haunting him, coming to mind and making him feel guilty in the few quiet moments where he wasn't worried about Melody or the duel or Art or Elliott or any of the rest of it. He wasn't worried about what she would say, necessarily, but rather that when she looked at him there would be something different behind her eyes than what he'd always seen there before. It was a situation he'd created for himself, but one he didn't want to face just yet. The wound from their conversation was still too fresh for him to pretend he didn't care what she thought of him.
The other thing was that although he had a whole list of questions for her, he didn't really want to know the answers. Macmillan had implied in his letters that November might have been aware of or even approving of his sentiments, as he called them. If that was the case... well, honestly, he'd rather just die in the duel Friday morning than have to picture his sister fooling around on her husband with Elmer Macmillan. But he thought he ought to know what he was walking into, on Friday. If it was all bluster (it was probably all bluster) then he could just shake it off, but if there was some truth to it — well, he didn't want to get caught off guard because Macmillan had said something intentionally provocative on Friday and end up slipping up. He wasn't really thinking that this duel was dangerous, because he thought he had Macmillan handily beat in the spellwork department, but it was still a duel. A slip could still cost him, and he couldn't afford that.
He'd been greeted by one of the servants when he arrived and shown up to a sitting room — morning room? waiting room? parlor? The various non-bedrooms available in the houses of the rich had always mildly confused him and he'd never bothered to ask for clarification, so while he knew all the names he was never entirely sure what the differences were between them. November was alone, which was good. He'd only have to wait out the servants' exit before he started in on the purpose of his visit, then.
"Good evening, November," he said experimentally, as though testing the water. He didn't exactly know what state of mind she might be in tonight.
MJ made this <3