[fic] Beast and Beastliness, ch. 3
Chapter 3 of ???
Fandom: Disney's Beauty and the Beast
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance (in every sense of the word!)
Disclaimer: Disney owns the characters and storyline for their version of Beauty and the Beast. I am making no money off of this; it is an affectionate homage to one of my favorite films of all time.
My dearest Anne:
We are safely arrived in London. Our rooms are smaller than last Season, but they are quite comfortable and I am most content. The journey itself was unremarkable; oddly, it did not feel as interminably long as last year - perhaps it was the newness that lent it such awful and artificial longevity.
London is very much as I remembered: dirty, fast-paced, loud, and absolutely abrim with people. So very different from our sleepy little country town! I wish you could be here with me to experience all of this; I should love to have a sympathetic soul with whom to share each day's events and discuss them once the day is done. You are left behind, my dear Angie is gone - and oh, how I find I miss her! So many tiny things that are no longer done, the little touches and gestures no longer seen. I do hope she was able to find a new situation and that she is more contented there than I am without her. At least I still have my Papa, though at times I think even he finds me a bit peculiar.
I must put down my pen, as it seems Lord S- has tracked me down already and has come to call. I shall fortify myself with The Corsair, which I finished on the journey (how fortunate that reading in the carriage does not make me ill!), and go do battle of my own.
I remain, etc. etc.,
Isabelle
***
My dearest Anne:
How very good it was to have your letter, like a breath of clean air. Please say that you were jesting bout your father's fit of despair over his ledgers - surely I cannot have composed so large a part of his finances! Well, no matter; the way the days are positively flying by, the Season shall be done and I shall be home again soon to darken your door and lighten your father's books.
The days since I wrote you last have been an absolute whirl of dinners, drives, and dances (my goodness, that is a frightful amount of "D"s!), not to mention promenades and concerts. I have barely had a moment to open a book since arriving, and am very glad I risked illness to finish The Corsair on the journey here, or I should have been driven quite mad with wanting to know how it ended.
Speaking of madness, I have spent the past week attempting to evade Lord S-. As I mentioned in my last letter, he was at my door to pay a call the very day we arrived, and since then he has attempted to engage me at nearly every turn - save last night's concert, where mercifully he fell asleep not five minutes in, and quite humiliated himself by snoring so loudly that he drowned out the harpsichordist. He has not spoken with Papa, but he talks as if our engagement is a fait accompli and myself already installed in his household, and it has the effect of keeping other gentlemen at something of a distance. This is maddening beyond description. Oh, Anne - my skin crawls at the notion, but what other prospects do I have? Lord S- is wealthy and titled, and if - nay, when - he speaks, I very much fear I will have no choice but to acquiesce, regardless of my personal feelings.
But enough gloom! Let me tell you of the delightful surprise Papa had for me today. It was right after breakfast, when he vanished without a word, then reappeared with his hands behind his back, looking exceedingly pleased with himself.
"My dear girl," he said, "I cannot give you the world, but at least I can bring you a little piece of it." And then he thrust a white box into my hands.
Oh, Anne - the dancing dress that was inside that box! India silk, yellow as the sun and edged with golden roses, with tendrils of red and green worked cunningly around them. The silk is so light and soft that I shall feel as though I am dancing clad in butterfly wings. I shall wear it to the ball at Almack's on Wednesday night, and if fortune smiles upon me, it will catch the eye of a suitor, one who is not Lord S-!
I remain, etc.,
Isabelle.
***
Jack Baldrick scurried along the roads of London until he came to the rooms where he and Lord Stonesbury were staying.
"Well, Jack? What news do you have for me?"
"A frock, sir."
Stonesbury frowned. "What good is a frock to me? Do I look like a young miss?"
Jack shook his head sharply to rid it of the terrifying image his master's words conjured up. "No, sir. The frock was bought by Mr. Morris for his daughter."
"Hmph. That is slightly more interesting. Still, why the deuce should I care about what the girl is wearing? Whatever it is, it shall pale next to my own ensemble."
"Yes, of course, sir. But this dress was bought by Mr. Morris..." Jack paused dramatically, "...on credit!"
Lord Stonesbury smiled politely. "I fail to see..."
Jack sighed. "Milord, Mr. Morris has been buying a great deal on credit this Season."
"Again, Jack, I fail to see...wait. Do you mean to tell me that Mr. Morris is...not paying his creditors?"
"No, sir."
"No, that's not what you're saying? Or no, he isn't paying his creditors?"
"No, I...he...that is...blast it, sir, now I'm all turned around!"
"Hm." Lord Stonesbury frowned and rubbed his chin in a manner which would have been thoughtful on another man. "Jack, I do believe I might have a thought in regards to this matter..."
"A dangerous pastime!" Jack observed, wide-eyed.
"Indeed. Jack, you must get me the name of this dressmaker, along with anyone else to whom Mr. Morris is currently in debt. I have high hopes for tomorrow's ball at Almack's, but if things do not go as I wish, why then, I am evolving a plan."
---
Author's Notes:
Almack's was a private club in Regency London, run by a group of highly influential Society ladies who were exceedingly selective about who they let in. Membership was highly sought after, and attending a ball at Almack's was seen as quite the social triumph. In reality, it's highly unlikely that someone like Isabelle would have been invited to an Almack's ball, unless the Morris family was very old and had been established as "quality" before their decline in fortune, but let's just say that Isabelle's incredible beauty and wit made a huge impression on the ton in her previous Season.
Ton: Short for haute ton, a Regency term for high society. (I meant to note this in Chapter 1, but forgot. Sorry!)
I've reimagined Belle's yellow ballgown as a dancing dress made from sari silk, which was a popular material in the Regency due to its light nature and elegantly embellished hems. In general, Regency ladies wanted to wear as little as humanly possible, dressing in thin, airy muslins, cotton gauze, and lightweight silks, out of a desire to resemble classical Greek goddesses. The fact that they were doing this in the British climate may explain why there was so much tuberculosis at the time.
Links to previous chapters:
Chapter 1: The Bluestocking
Chapter 2: The Beast
Fandom: Disney's Beauty and the Beast
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance (in every sense of the word!)
Disclaimer: Disney owns the characters and storyline for their version of Beauty and the Beast. I am making no money off of this; it is an affectionate homage to one of my favorite films of all time.
My dearest Anne:
We are safely arrived in London. Our rooms are smaller than last Season, but they are quite comfortable and I am most content. The journey itself was unremarkable; oddly, it did not feel as interminably long as last year - perhaps it was the newness that lent it such awful and artificial longevity.
London is very much as I remembered: dirty, fast-paced, loud, and absolutely abrim with people. So very different from our sleepy little country town! I wish you could be here with me to experience all of this; I should love to have a sympathetic soul with whom to share each day's events and discuss them once the day is done. You are left behind, my dear Angie is gone - and oh, how I find I miss her! So many tiny things that are no longer done, the little touches and gestures no longer seen. I do hope she was able to find a new situation and that she is more contented there than I am without her. At least I still have my Papa, though at times I think even he finds me a bit peculiar.
I must put down my pen, as it seems Lord S- has tracked me down already and has come to call. I shall fortify myself with The Corsair, which I finished on the journey (how fortunate that reading in the carriage does not make me ill!), and go do battle of my own.
I remain, etc. etc.,
Isabelle
***
My dearest Anne:
How very good it was to have your letter, like a breath of clean air. Please say that you were jesting bout your father's fit of despair over his ledgers - surely I cannot have composed so large a part of his finances! Well, no matter; the way the days are positively flying by, the Season shall be done and I shall be home again soon to darken your door and lighten your father's books.
The days since I wrote you last have been an absolute whirl of dinners, drives, and dances (my goodness, that is a frightful amount of "D"s!), not to mention promenades and concerts. I have barely had a moment to open a book since arriving, and am very glad I risked illness to finish The Corsair on the journey here, or I should have been driven quite mad with wanting to know how it ended.
Speaking of madness, I have spent the past week attempting to evade Lord S-. As I mentioned in my last letter, he was at my door to pay a call the very day we arrived, and since then he has attempted to engage me at nearly every turn - save last night's concert, where mercifully he fell asleep not five minutes in, and quite humiliated himself by snoring so loudly that he drowned out the harpsichordist. He has not spoken with Papa, but he talks as if our engagement is a fait accompli and myself already installed in his household, and it has the effect of keeping other gentlemen at something of a distance. This is maddening beyond description. Oh, Anne - my skin crawls at the notion, but what other prospects do I have? Lord S- is wealthy and titled, and if - nay, when - he speaks, I very much fear I will have no choice but to acquiesce, regardless of my personal feelings.
But enough gloom! Let me tell you of the delightful surprise Papa had for me today. It was right after breakfast, when he vanished without a word, then reappeared with his hands behind his back, looking exceedingly pleased with himself.
"My dear girl," he said, "I cannot give you the world, but at least I can bring you a little piece of it." And then he thrust a white box into my hands.
Oh, Anne - the dancing dress that was inside that box! India silk, yellow as the sun and edged with golden roses, with tendrils of red and green worked cunningly around them. The silk is so light and soft that I shall feel as though I am dancing clad in butterfly wings. I shall wear it to the ball at Almack's on Wednesday night, and if fortune smiles upon me, it will catch the eye of a suitor, one who is not Lord S-!
I remain, etc.,
Isabelle.
***
Jack Baldrick scurried along the roads of London until he came to the rooms where he and Lord Stonesbury were staying.
"Well, Jack? What news do you have for me?"
"A frock, sir."
Stonesbury frowned. "What good is a frock to me? Do I look like a young miss?"
Jack shook his head sharply to rid it of the terrifying image his master's words conjured up. "No, sir. The frock was bought by Mr. Morris for his daughter."
"Hmph. That is slightly more interesting. Still, why the deuce should I care about what the girl is wearing? Whatever it is, it shall pale next to my own ensemble."
"Yes, of course, sir. But this dress was bought by Mr. Morris..." Jack paused dramatically, "...on credit!"
Lord Stonesbury smiled politely. "I fail to see..."
Jack sighed. "Milord, Mr. Morris has been buying a great deal on credit this Season."
"Again, Jack, I fail to see...wait. Do you mean to tell me that Mr. Morris is...not paying his creditors?"
"No, sir."
"No, that's not what you're saying? Or no, he isn't paying his creditors?"
"No, I...he...that is...blast it, sir, now I'm all turned around!"
"Hm." Lord Stonesbury frowned and rubbed his chin in a manner which would have been thoughtful on another man. "Jack, I do believe I might have a thought in regards to this matter..."
"A dangerous pastime!" Jack observed, wide-eyed.
"Indeed. Jack, you must get me the name of this dressmaker, along with anyone else to whom Mr. Morris is currently in debt. I have high hopes for tomorrow's ball at Almack's, but if things do not go as I wish, why then, I am evolving a plan."
---
Author's Notes:
Almack's was a private club in Regency London, run by a group of highly influential Society ladies who were exceedingly selective about who they let in. Membership was highly sought after, and attending a ball at Almack's was seen as quite the social triumph. In reality, it's highly unlikely that someone like Isabelle would have been invited to an Almack's ball, unless the Morris family was very old and had been established as "quality" before their decline in fortune, but let's just say that Isabelle's incredible beauty and wit made a huge impression on the ton in her previous Season.
Ton: Short for haute ton, a Regency term for high society. (I meant to note this in Chapter 1, but forgot. Sorry!)
I've reimagined Belle's yellow ballgown as a dancing dress made from sari silk, which was a popular material in the Regency due to its light nature and elegantly embellished hems. In general, Regency ladies wanted to wear as little as humanly possible, dressing in thin, airy muslins, cotton gauze, and lightweight silks, out of a desire to resemble classical Greek goddesses. The fact that they were doing this in the British climate may explain why there was so much tuberculosis at the time.
Links to previous chapters:
Chapter 1: The Bluestocking
Chapter 2: The Beast