Hello! My name is Pat, age 15, and this is my first story on FFn. Do tell me if it sucks, for even though I'm not inexperienced in the field of fanfiction, I've been known to make my plot go awry when I'm not paying attention.

Social hierarchy in 1814 London was like a slippery ladder. Each social group occupied a different rung, a different sphere of power, whoever they were: Rich aristocrats, the middle class, the labourers.

London in this era was class, status and refinery. The Aristocrats and bourgeoisie were nothing short of conceited little sacks of money, their ancestors' hard earned money washed away with the power of their vanity. But Lord Alexander Lightwood was not one of these people in the least. There was nothing conceited about him, and people thought he was the most suited heir to the Estate.

Presently, one would find him in his study, reading an invitation to the Exhibition organised in Hull that evening. His dear friend Aline Penhallow took the liberty of informing him of this Exhibition she'd organised herself, showcasing her art. It was quite uncommon, not to mention impertinent to have a woman undertake such work upon herself. But Aline never had been one to stick to the definitive rules.

He heard a swishing of skirts in the hallway, followed by a series of smart taps on the mahogany door.

"Come in, Isabelle!" He said and put down the letter, rubbing his eyes.

She came in, shutting the door behind her with a bang. Quite bashful and snippy, that was Isabelle.

"Oh, there you are, brother. Jace supposed you'd be here, reading those old books of yours. What is it this time? Shakespeare?"

Isabelle Lightwood was an opinionated woman, not at all interested in conventionality. She did what she wanted to do. Some people disliked her intensely, but some people believed she was Revolution herself, in the form of a beautiful, sharp young lady. She was hardly ever sentimental, often mistaken for being emotionless, but beneath her cold face lay immense love and depths of loyalty and friendship.

Alexander merely smiled. He was well acquainted with his sister's snippy personality.

"No, Isabelle. It's Aline. Not that Aline's expressing her long repressed interest for literature, if that's what you're thinking", he added hastily, seeing Isabelle's eyebrows arched in surprise. "She was so kind as to invite us to an Exhibition in the Hull tonight. Fancy going there?"

"Oh, I'd love to. You know I like her art, and I admire Aline so much for daring to take even a miniscule step to defy those futile beliefs." Here, she scrunched up her face in disgust.

"Could you please go to Hodge and ask him whether he could ask Jace if he'd like to come along?"

"I'm sure he will. You know he'll never miss an opportunity to show off about the city's finest art to Clarissa. I know, Alec", she said before Alexander could cut her off, "I know you'd rather not have her there. But being civil is all this situation warrants. Won't you at least do that for Jace?" Her voice softened at the last question.

Truth be told, Alexander wasn't very fond of Clarissa Morgenstern. Even that was putting it mildly. Even though he rarely displayed it, he disliked the little redhead intensely. She'd walked in like a red whirlwind into Jace's life and stolen all their precious few family moments when they would just relax and talk about inconsequential matters. Now, she occupied most of his brother's time and mind.

Alexander thought about what a fortune teller had once told Jace. She had said that Jace would fall in love with the wrong person. Cheap mummery and tricks, that's all they were, he thought. But never did he once think that she could have been right. That somehow she'd foreseen Jace falling in love with one of the Morgenstern's, a family famously known for their notoriety and debauched sense of humours. Rumour once had it that Valentine Morgenstern would eat human flesh with blood instead of wine.

Everyone had tried to warn Jace, but he'd seemed so irrevocably in love with the short redhead. He just couldn't listen to reason. Alexander sighed. He hoped against hope that Clarissa wouldn't break his adopted brother's heart, or worse, turn out to be a cannibal.

He shook his head to clear it of such obscene thoughts.

Isabelle cleared her throat and moved forward, her dainty hand clasping her brother's wrist, gently but firmly. "Alec," she breathed. "I'll look out for Jace. You know I will."

Alec swallowed and looked up at her pristine, fair face. "I believe you will. It's me who is not quite capable of taking of family."

"Alexander Lightwood, we've been through this. Whatever happened the other day was a dark misfortune and it was certainly not your fault."

He closed his eyes and nodded vigorously, trying to will the tears away.

"I know, I know. Apologies, sister. Now, would you be so kind as to ring for Hodge?"

And, that's it. Do tell me if you thought it was rubbish, or if I should continue this. For I can get carried away in my own judgement and I want the clear brevity of the truth.

Review, please.