A Day at the Races

[canadiansixpack]

It is a tradition harking back over two hundred years now; a tradition adhered to and continued despite the ongoing outbreaks of Plague, of smallpox, of political upheaval. Time waits for no man, or for the running of the Monarch's Stakes

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[_steelmagnolia_]

The Marchioness is among those present. She loves the horse race, the people dressing in more flamboyant clothing. There are times it seems that there is a competition as to who can walk the line between style and tackiness most effectively. The woman in question, of course, is in blacks and greys, seemingly perpetually in mourning for her various husbands.

[canadiansixpack]

The weather is surprisingly warm, and the mood of the attending crowds buoyant. Such is the demonstration of largess provided by the upper echelons of society, the spectacle a great attraction for those who would have no other opportunity or wherewithal to witness such an event.

The Marchioness will not find herself alone for too long. A gloved hand-- gloved, even in this warm weather-- finds its way into her line of vision, clasping in it a flute of sparkling wine.

"My lady."

[_steelmagnolia_]

"My lord."

Lifting her veil further, the lady in question turn to look toward the gentleman and the glass of wine in question. Carefully, she reaches out to take the glass, even if just for a brief sip. There are few these days, who would bring her a glass of wine unasked.

"How do you fare this race day?"

[canadiansixpack]

He inclines his head and his own glass toward her briefly in respect, waiting for her to partake before he imbibes before looking out towards the course.

"Well, though not rested as I might like. And yourself?"

[_steelmagnolia_]

"I have had better days, though I have hopes for this one." She turns her smile toward His Grace. It is a smile that can easily charm, though that has never been the intent, though more now because she's certain she'd kill him too. She takes another sip of wine, "The days can sit heavily."

[canadiansixpack]

"'Tis a rare thing to see a smile such as yours," he counters, "Would that you were to brandish it more often, it could banish even the heaviest of a man's burdens."

[_steelmagnolia_]

"His Grace is too kind." For him, though, the smile holds. "Would that it would banish the weight that rests upon your strong shoulders." While she doesn't often speak of it, she is observant enough to see more of who he truly is than he might like.

Perhaps, she's also, ironically, something of a romantic.

[canadiansixpack]

His own smile has become something much rarer in the past months since his wife's death. Perhaps then it is worth something more that he allows it to come forth now. "Ah, but for that weight to leave mine shoulders, 'twould be necessary to abandon all that I have and elope to some distant land far from all who might know my face. Perhaps to become a hermit, living off naught but the land and its gifts." The smile broadens a little. "A singular notion, to be sure, entertained only in the darkest of times."

[_steelmagnolia_]

If this were a different place, she might extend her hand to him, to rest it on his forearm. Here and now, it would be forward of her to extend such a sign of affection to a man also in mourning. "I am afraid I would not be cut out for such living, as tempting as it might well be to try." Her gaze is directed to the course and the greenery in the area.

[canadiansixpack]

"'Tis not difficult, when one knows the land well enough. But 'tis ill-suited to someone of your stature and manners. I, being merely a man, have none of the latter and must earn the former, and therefore it would be no great loss to society." The humor in his expression is plain.

[_steelmagnolia_]

"There is nothing mere about you, Your Grace." While the amusement is written on her face, there is something else there as well, something deeper. She tends to be the sort who floats through the court, known to all but close to very few. "You have the knowledge and the skill needed for a great many things that I do not. Perhaps we should agree that we are mutually compatibly different?"

[canadiansixpack]

"That at least could not be farther from the truth, though such an agreement begs the question, then, of what little makes us alike, the loss of ones so close and beloved aside."

[_steelmagnolia_]

"We are both survivors, Your Grace."

After that comment, she takes another sip from her goblet. "I am sure there is more but that is the most obvious trait."

[canadiansixpack]

"And a compelling notion to watch a pack of four-legged beasts race against one another upon a track, perhaps?"

[_steelmagnolia_]

"The race is always amazing to see, the power of the animals is impressive." Looking toward him, she smiles, possibly hinting at something but then again with her it is hard to tell.

[canadiansixpack]

"And where, pray tell, lies your favorite amongst this impressive field today, in order that I might bet against it?" he counters with a growing smile of his own.