Fanfic: A Matter of Some Importance (Gen; Violet, OC)
Title: A Matter of Some Importance
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Characters: Violet Crawley, OC
Rating: PG
Warning: Spoilers up to episode 6.
Word Count: 938
Note: Written for silvestria via The 2011 New Year's Resolution Challenge: Violet’s secret life as an assassin.
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A Wednesday afternoon found a genial-looking, middle-aged gentleman in a well-cut grey suit sitting in the charming establishment of the Three Hummingbirds. Richard Sawyer-as he had been known for the last ten years by the innocent half of his associates-regarded the elderly woman approaching his table with quiet approval. Still a lady of the upper class, and yet not quite. Her erect carriage was impaired by a slight stoop and her dress, first class in material, was nevertheless too simply designed to match the colourful persona of the Dowager Countess of Grantham.
Richard rose to welcome her, his first genuine smile in months gracing his lips. “I must say you look enchanting, dear lady.”
“Flattery ceases to become one when it holds too much lie within, Mr. Sawyer.” Only the neat, sharp inflection of her voice would betray her as the esteemed lady who so intimidated her peers and minions alike. But it was not Lady Violet Crawley that Richard saw-that he still saw in his mind, through his eighteen-year-old eyes. He saw, instead, the most decorated and the most mysterious of his profession, and the most captivating woman he had ever known.
At eighteen, he had been younger than her perhaps by five or six years (he never did learn her true age), the greenest kid in the game, and irrevocably smitten. The Countess; such had she been known, with that mysterious soubriquet and a reputation unmatched by any living person. Very few were privy to the fact that she was a genuine countess and even fewer could positively declare that she and Mr. Richard Sawyer, a respectable gentleman working in a respectable bank, were slightly more than surface acquaintances.
A fresh serving of tea and scones were brought to their table. They waited until the helpful waiter departed, and then the Countess spoke. “It is good of you to come.”
“How can I bear to disappoint you, milady? Nonetheless, this poor man must admit that he spent the better part of the morning looking for the entrance to this place. Quite a choice of establishment.”
She acknowledged the praise with a tiny sip of her tea and an aloof nod. “I must decide on one seldom frequented by my acquaintances.”
“You are too well-versed in your art, madam,” he sighed, a smile all but concealed, “as befits a legend in our profession.”
The lady’s face remained impassive. “This idle talk does not interest me.”
“By all means, I am waiting for your proposal,” Richard replied gallantly.
“There is no such thing-yet. For now, I only wish for certain… assessment.”
“I am intrigued.”
She hesitated for a moment. “I realise that nowadays things are not what they were. What I want to know, first of all, is whether the old way is still feasible, considering these changes.”
Richard considered the question and what possible motive behind it. “It depends entirely on the person of interest-as you undoubtedly know from your former experience. Parameters change according to circumstances, and a person of some importance is, shall we say, more volatile in this regard?”
“Of course.” A frown slowly corrugated her temple. “Then let us say, hypothetically, that this person of interest is of some importance in the diplomatic sphere, although not quite indispensible. Will it be at all possible to have him removed, permanently or not, without much fuss?”
Ah. Richard was pressed hard not to smile. Naturally a man in his position heard many things; the Crawley’s name was not entirely without its scandals and the most recent-oh yes, the most recent-how it might shake the precarious stability Lady Cora’s money had accomplished not very long ago, should it only be true.
Silently, he considered this elderly woman sitting before him. How like her-always family, first and foremost. It had also been the reason of her early retirement, as he remembered only too clearly.
“Certainly there are ways,” Richard gave his opinion at last, “but I would not worry if I were you, madam-assuming I am correct in my assumptions. Great things, no matter how important, will always cede to greater things when they come.”
The Countess’s eyes suddenly gained a sharper glint so reminiscent of her old role that it sent a jolt through him. “Then it is true,” she murmured, her voice low enough to render her words inaudible but to one. “War is upon us.”
“All I can say is there are suggestions to that end.” His answer was equally careful. “I doubt any tittle-tattle coming from foreigners will hold much credence then. And who knows what changes it might bring.”
The Countess sighed. “Still, one feels better to be certain.”
Were Richard Sawyer not such a gentleman, he would have appropriated the moment with a laugh. “Undoubtedly,” he merely said, content with a smile.
Her objective thus obtained, the lady rose to her feet and he promptly followed. “Well, I thank you for your time, Mr. Sawyer. May the future be kind to us all.”
“It is my sincerest hope, milady.” Richard bowed to kiss her glove. He watched her leave as he had once, many years ago, and his thoughts inevitably turned to days long gone. The mix of melancholy and longing was now tempered by age, but she remained in his mind the most extraordinary woman-one of Her late Majesty’s darkest shadows and yet a pearl among the dull glints of mere rocks, deadly as they were.
With a sigh which bespoke all, Richard returned to his seat and applied his mind once more to international matters. His undercover agent in the Black Hand would require instructions soon.
-
Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think!
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Characters: Violet Crawley, OC
Rating: PG
Warning: Spoilers up to episode 6.
Word Count: 938
Note: Written for silvestria via The 2011 New Year's Resolution Challenge: Violet’s secret life as an assassin.
-
A Wednesday afternoon found a genial-looking, middle-aged gentleman in a well-cut grey suit sitting in the charming establishment of the Three Hummingbirds. Richard Sawyer-as he had been known for the last ten years by the innocent half of his associates-regarded the elderly woman approaching his table with quiet approval. Still a lady of the upper class, and yet not quite. Her erect carriage was impaired by a slight stoop and her dress, first class in material, was nevertheless too simply designed to match the colourful persona of the Dowager Countess of Grantham.
Richard rose to welcome her, his first genuine smile in months gracing his lips. “I must say you look enchanting, dear lady.”
“Flattery ceases to become one when it holds too much lie within, Mr. Sawyer.” Only the neat, sharp inflection of her voice would betray her as the esteemed lady who so intimidated her peers and minions alike. But it was not Lady Violet Crawley that Richard saw-that he still saw in his mind, through his eighteen-year-old eyes. He saw, instead, the most decorated and the most mysterious of his profession, and the most captivating woman he had ever known.
At eighteen, he had been younger than her perhaps by five or six years (he never did learn her true age), the greenest kid in the game, and irrevocably smitten. The Countess; such had she been known, with that mysterious soubriquet and a reputation unmatched by any living person. Very few were privy to the fact that she was a genuine countess and even fewer could positively declare that she and Mr. Richard Sawyer, a respectable gentleman working in a respectable bank, were slightly more than surface acquaintances.
A fresh serving of tea and scones were brought to their table. They waited until the helpful waiter departed, and then the Countess spoke. “It is good of you to come.”
“How can I bear to disappoint you, milady? Nonetheless, this poor man must admit that he spent the better part of the morning looking for the entrance to this place. Quite a choice of establishment.”
She acknowledged the praise with a tiny sip of her tea and an aloof nod. “I must decide on one seldom frequented by my acquaintances.”
“You are too well-versed in your art, madam,” he sighed, a smile all but concealed, “as befits a legend in our profession.”
The lady’s face remained impassive. “This idle talk does not interest me.”
“By all means, I am waiting for your proposal,” Richard replied gallantly.
“There is no such thing-yet. For now, I only wish for certain… assessment.”
“I am intrigued.”
She hesitated for a moment. “I realise that nowadays things are not what they were. What I want to know, first of all, is whether the old way is still feasible, considering these changes.”
Richard considered the question and what possible motive behind it. “It depends entirely on the person of interest-as you undoubtedly know from your former experience. Parameters change according to circumstances, and a person of some importance is, shall we say, more volatile in this regard?”
“Of course.” A frown slowly corrugated her temple. “Then let us say, hypothetically, that this person of interest is of some importance in the diplomatic sphere, although not quite indispensible. Will it be at all possible to have him removed, permanently or not, without much fuss?”
Ah. Richard was pressed hard not to smile. Naturally a man in his position heard many things; the Crawley’s name was not entirely without its scandals and the most recent-oh yes, the most recent-how it might shake the precarious stability Lady Cora’s money had accomplished not very long ago, should it only be true.
Silently, he considered this elderly woman sitting before him. How like her-always family, first and foremost. It had also been the reason of her early retirement, as he remembered only too clearly.
“Certainly there are ways,” Richard gave his opinion at last, “but I would not worry if I were you, madam-assuming I am correct in my assumptions. Great things, no matter how important, will always cede to greater things when they come.”
The Countess’s eyes suddenly gained a sharper glint so reminiscent of her old role that it sent a jolt through him. “Then it is true,” she murmured, her voice low enough to render her words inaudible but to one. “War is upon us.”
“All I can say is there are suggestions to that end.” His answer was equally careful. “I doubt any tittle-tattle coming from foreigners will hold much credence then. And who knows what changes it might bring.”
The Countess sighed. “Still, one feels better to be certain.”
Were Richard Sawyer not such a gentleman, he would have appropriated the moment with a laugh. “Undoubtedly,” he merely said, content with a smile.
Her objective thus obtained, the lady rose to her feet and he promptly followed. “Well, I thank you for your time, Mr. Sawyer. May the future be kind to us all.”
“It is my sincerest hope, milady.” Richard bowed to kiss her glove. He watched her leave as he had once, many years ago, and his thoughts inevitably turned to days long gone. The mix of melancholy and longing was now tempered by age, but she remained in his mind the most extraordinary woman-one of Her late Majesty’s darkest shadows and yet a pearl among the dull glints of mere rocks, deadly as they were.
With a sigh which bespoke all, Richard returned to his seat and applied his mind once more to international matters. His undercover agent in the Black Hand would require instructions soon.
-
Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think!