Another Hour Fic
Hmm. After a particularly intelligent and insightful piece of feedback I got yesterday, I'm going to try the exersize suggested. One Lady, in relation to one person, in one context.
"This won't do. No, I'm afraid this won't do at all."
Josiah just about stifled a sigh as he heard the imperious tones of Damask Rose. She'd been in a fine temper for a week, upon being told that she could have an entire stall to herself at the Queens' Market.
The perfumery of Damask Rose kept a permanent fragrance like a second wall over the entrance. It made some people feel rather queasy, but it both woke and soothed Josiah as he passed through the change of air, awkwardly clutching the box that had been left on the porch.
Damask Rose was alone, which as probably just as well since her corsets were loosened and her petticoats left off altogether. Josiah had no idea how she should get about the room without them- without the petticoats, the hem of her skirt was not held away from the dusty floor, and it seemed certain she'd trip and fall.
"Good morning, my lady." Josiah put down the mysterious box and put a familiar arm around her waist. "I think the bottles are come."
Damask Rose folded into his embrace. "My morning is better now you're here. I'm thinking of making the rose water tomorrow, but all my dried plant stores are all over the place. I shall have to spend the day stock taking, and that's a day we can barely afford."
Josiah winced. "I have a better idea. You and I can make the Eau de Cologne today, and we can fetch in Sissy and Louisa from the village to go through the stock."
Surprisingly, Damask Rose chuckled. "Still trying to find a position for your little cousins? I thought Louisa was at the milliner."
"Oh, yes." Josiah looked a little bashful. "Unfortunately that milliner was...not decent. Louisa's mother took to her bed when she heard."
Damask Rose snorted. "Josiah, my love, your aunt took to her bed last time the sun shone for three days altogether." She waved a hand, and the air was suddenly filled with the fragrance of mown grass. "Very well, you go fetch them while I find the ingredients for cologne."
Half an hour later, Damask Rose looked up vaguely at the sound of young female voices in the stockroom. If someone was foolsh enough to examine and label the two hundred or so boxes in her stock room- and an unworthy part of her rather looked forward to the squeals as they found the ambergris- then that was perfectly acceptable.
She sniffed the neroli oil, took some pains not to sniff the ethanol, and admired the warm colours of the dried lemon and orange peel in the kilner jar before her.
Josiah emerged, twining a small bunch of dried marjoram between his fingers. "There's a lot of herbs in storage. Isn't this one a rather old-fashioned scent?"
Damask Rose smelled it, and felt her nose wrinkle at the sudden assault of memory. "Marjoram was a very popular fragrance in the Regency era. A truly dreadful period in history, frankly- Mortals will insist on trying to rule the land and holdings of Britain, and it never works out for long."
Josiah took the herb from her. "I didn't realise the Prince Regent tried to outlaw the Nine Queens."
"No indeed, nobody's tried that since Cromwell. Pass the bergamot, will you?" Damask Rose sniffed it appreciatively. "I do love this oil."
"I'm afraid it always reminds me of Earl Grey tea, rather than a perfume in its own right." Josiah tried to ignore the crashing noises from the next room- No doubt one young lady or another would approach the work room if there was an actual problem.
Damask Rose blinked at the thought. "I do believe Earl Grey is made with black Ceylon tea, isn't it? I wonder what manner of fragrance you could distill from that. Tea itself is after all a sort of infusion."
"Tea flavoured perfume?" Josiah shook his head. "I suppose if anyone could render such a thing, you could. Perhaps if you wrote to the Lady of Tea in Ceylon for assistance?"
"Hmm." Damask Rose prepared the beginnings of cologne in practised motions. "I never imagined there should be Nine Queens overseas. That's the effect of Victory's Empire, of course. I'm told the Lady of Sugar is a remarkable sight to behold. And the Lady of Cotton has hair as white and soft as a lamb's first fleece."
Suddenly remembering, Josiah opened the box he'd so thoughtfully brought in. Inside were two dozen narrow bottles, their lids made of a porcelin secured by wire, much like the milk bottles he remembered from his childhood. "I think the Lady of Glass is hoping for some free fragrance this year."
"She always does." Damask Rose lifted a single bottle from its nest of raw cotton. "You have to admit though, it's an equitable arrangement. Every manner of perfume will do well in these bottles at market."
"I can hardly wait," admitted Josiah. "The London Ball wasn't really to my taste, though I'm told it was interesting. But the Queen's market often has some scandal I can protect you from."
Still smelling faintly of citrus, Damask Rose put a hand on her consort's arm. "Or embroil me in, of course."
"Oh, my life!" The cry from the next room was quite intelligible. "Whatever shall I say this is?"
Josiah smiled. "The ambergris?"
"The ambergris."
"This won't do. No, I'm afraid this won't do at all."
Josiah just about stifled a sigh as he heard the imperious tones of Damask Rose. She'd been in a fine temper for a week, upon being told that she could have an entire stall to herself at the Queens' Market.
The perfumery of Damask Rose kept a permanent fragrance like a second wall over the entrance. It made some people feel rather queasy, but it both woke and soothed Josiah as he passed through the change of air, awkwardly clutching the box that had been left on the porch.
Damask Rose was alone, which as probably just as well since her corsets were loosened and her petticoats left off altogether. Josiah had no idea how she should get about the room without them- without the petticoats, the hem of her skirt was not held away from the dusty floor, and it seemed certain she'd trip and fall.
"Good morning, my lady." Josiah put down the mysterious box and put a familiar arm around her waist. "I think the bottles are come."
Damask Rose folded into his embrace. "My morning is better now you're here. I'm thinking of making the rose water tomorrow, but all my dried plant stores are all over the place. I shall have to spend the day stock taking, and that's a day we can barely afford."
Josiah winced. "I have a better idea. You and I can make the Eau de Cologne today, and we can fetch in Sissy and Louisa from the village to go through the stock."
Surprisingly, Damask Rose chuckled. "Still trying to find a position for your little cousins? I thought Louisa was at the milliner."
"Oh, yes." Josiah looked a little bashful. "Unfortunately that milliner was...not decent. Louisa's mother took to her bed when she heard."
Damask Rose snorted. "Josiah, my love, your aunt took to her bed last time the sun shone for three days altogether." She waved a hand, and the air was suddenly filled with the fragrance of mown grass. "Very well, you go fetch them while I find the ingredients for cologne."
Half an hour later, Damask Rose looked up vaguely at the sound of young female voices in the stockroom. If someone was foolsh enough to examine and label the two hundred or so boxes in her stock room- and an unworthy part of her rather looked forward to the squeals as they found the ambergris- then that was perfectly acceptable.
She sniffed the neroli oil, took some pains not to sniff the ethanol, and admired the warm colours of the dried lemon and orange peel in the kilner jar before her.
Josiah emerged, twining a small bunch of dried marjoram between his fingers. "There's a lot of herbs in storage. Isn't this one a rather old-fashioned scent?"
Damask Rose smelled it, and felt her nose wrinkle at the sudden assault of memory. "Marjoram was a very popular fragrance in the Regency era. A truly dreadful period in history, frankly- Mortals will insist on trying to rule the land and holdings of Britain, and it never works out for long."
Josiah took the herb from her. "I didn't realise the Prince Regent tried to outlaw the Nine Queens."
"No indeed, nobody's tried that since Cromwell. Pass the bergamot, will you?" Damask Rose sniffed it appreciatively. "I do love this oil."
"I'm afraid it always reminds me of Earl Grey tea, rather than a perfume in its own right." Josiah tried to ignore the crashing noises from the next room- No doubt one young lady or another would approach the work room if there was an actual problem.
Damask Rose blinked at the thought. "I do believe Earl Grey is made with black Ceylon tea, isn't it? I wonder what manner of fragrance you could distill from that. Tea itself is after all a sort of infusion."
"Tea flavoured perfume?" Josiah shook his head. "I suppose if anyone could render such a thing, you could. Perhaps if you wrote to the Lady of Tea in Ceylon for assistance?"
"Hmm." Damask Rose prepared the beginnings of cologne in practised motions. "I never imagined there should be Nine Queens overseas. That's the effect of Victory's Empire, of course. I'm told the Lady of Sugar is a remarkable sight to behold. And the Lady of Cotton has hair as white and soft as a lamb's first fleece."
Suddenly remembering, Josiah opened the box he'd so thoughtfully brought in. Inside were two dozen narrow bottles, their lids made of a porcelin secured by wire, much like the milk bottles he remembered from his childhood. "I think the Lady of Glass is hoping for some free fragrance this year."
"She always does." Damask Rose lifted a single bottle from its nest of raw cotton. "You have to admit though, it's an equitable arrangement. Every manner of perfume will do well in these bottles at market."
"I can hardly wait," admitted Josiah. "The London Ball wasn't really to my taste, though I'm told it was interesting. But the Queen's market often has some scandal I can protect you from."
Still smelling faintly of citrus, Damask Rose put a hand on her consort's arm. "Or embroil me in, of course."
"Oh, my life!" The cry from the next room was quite intelligible. "Whatever shall I say this is?"
Josiah smiled. "The ambergris?"
"The ambergris."