May 1666, London
The Stark's carriage pulled in to the outskirts of town on a Friday morning. It had been a long journey from the quiet tranquillity of Winterfell and the North, and the girls had the sense they were entering a different, yet exciting world.
"I don't want to look too provincial!" fretted Sansa, as her hands fidgeted with her fan. "This is so important to us all. We simply must make a good impression at Court and in town."
Arya curled her lip, barely restraining herself from rolling her eyes. Trust her sister to worry about stupid things like that. Who cared if they were provincial? What else would they be?
They'd rarely left their father's remote northern territories, let alone entered such a huge cosmopolitan city as London, teeming with people and life. Although they'd joined their oldest brother Robb on his journey south, in order to gain knowledge of the outside world and to gain husbands, this was very new to all of them. Why did she care so much what other people thought of them anyway?
Though she secretly liked her sister, the way that Sansa always sought to be perfect rankled with her.
Even worse was the fact that everyone always compared them, and found her wanting. If she had a shilling for every time Septa Mordane or her mother said something along the lines of, 'Why can't you behave more like your sister? Why must you hare across the county in your breeches like a hoyden? See how demure and feminine your sister is. Why can't you be more like her?'...well, she'd be rich as Croesus and not need to marry!
The London townhouse had been in the Tully family for years, and had come to their mother, Catelyn, as an inheritance. As soon as they arrived, Sansa and Jeyne commandeered the main bedroom, which had a wonderful view of Hyde Park and the surrounding areas. The elder girls couldn't help peeking excitedly out of the windows, taking in the sights and sounds of their new home. There was a great deal of construction going on after the return of the king and his court a couple of years ago, and the old dank buildings of the capital were giving way to newer more spacious houses and avenues built in clean, classical lines and light stone.
"It's just like the city's being reborn, a phoenix from the flames!" gushed Jeyne.
"And we're going to be a part of it." Sansa echoed, her lovely blue eyes shining with excitement. The two girls smiled at each other, sharing their excitement and joy at their new adventure.
Sansa and Jeyne were excitedly discussing the fashions in the capital, and contemplating their change in image. If they were to fit in here in this urbane and glittering capital, they needed to shed their rustic skins and attain a courtly polish… as soon as possible.
"I can't wait to go shopping. Just think of the wardrobe we'll need before we get to court!" Sansa beamed in excitement. The girls looked excitedly at each other at the thought.
"Isn't it tomorrow we have that appointment at Madam Marianne's?" Jeyne asked.
"We were certainly lucky to get in at such short notice," Sansa said. "I suppose we have Lady Arryn to thank for that." Neither she nor Arya had ever met her mother's younger sister, but they had been told a great deal about her by Lady Catelyn, who had wanted them to be prepared for their adventure in the big city.
Septa Mordane had fretted that they would not be able to get outfitted in sufficient time for Court, but the Stark name and fortune spoke for itself, and cleared the way most satisfactorily. They had managed to get an afternoon appointment with one of the best modistes in town.
Sansa and Jeyne had spent many an evening poring over the pamphlets that made their way north, collecting the fashionable models that displayed the latest fashions a la mode. Arya couldn't think of anything duller frankly, listening to her sister and her handmaiden chat excitedly about their trip to the modiste tomorrow. She hoped that she would be left behind while they primped and preened but there wasn't a chance of that.
What a fuss! It was so unnecessary, she thought. Why could we not have stayed at home to find husbands? If we really have to?
Even as she thought it, she knew she was being a little unreasonable. It was their duty as high-born maidens to marry well and raise families, to marry a wealthy man and make alliances to benefit their family. The best way to do that was to move south where they were bound to meet the lords most suitable for their station.
Why do things have to change and why is Sansa so eager to leave our childhood behind?
It was a shame that Arya did not feel the same way, Sansa reflected the next day as they rode to the modiste. Her sister was in a dreadful mood, and nothing she did seemed to be able to chivvy her from it. After a while, both Sansa and Jeyne gave up on it, talking between them.
Sansa looked at her sister who still had a miserable look on her face. I wish she would give this place a chance. This is a wonderful opportunity for us all.
We are so lucky that Mother managed to save enough that she could afford a season for both of us. She had even been able to finance for Jeyne Poole, her very best friend and handmaiden, to join them on the city adventure.
She knew that Arya was a tomboy and instead of enjoying the demure lady-like arts expected of a high-born maiden she preferred to run around with the lads, hunting, riding, practising her shooting and archery with Robb their brother and Theon who was their father's ward, and fencing.
Sometimes, Sansa was convinced that Arya actually thought she was a boy, rather than a maiden of high birth. Certainly she was rather more athletic and sporty than their younger brother Bran, who was a bit of a scholar and had gained early entrance to Oxford where he was studying Philosophy, and Divinity.
Frankly, she was surprised their handmaiden Jeyne managed to get her in a dress for longer than a few hours as she lived in breeches at home, to the horror of their governess Septa Mordane.
Even though the younger girl chafed under the restrictions of being a lady, Sansa understood that things couldn't stay the same.
Arya was still quite young, but it was more than time she started acting like a lady, and learnt to grow up. It was never too young to make those important high-born contacts, to meet the man who might yet become her husband.
Everything changes, why can't Arya accept that?
The modiste exclaimed over the raw material she had to work with. What fair maidens had just made an appointment with her for all their trousseaus for Court and town - with money no object!
She watched them both as they made their selection of the fine fabric she would make their trousseaus with. She'd hovered to give guidance and steer the girls away from anything too gaudy and vulgar, but they seemed to have ingrained good taste despite their provincial antecedents.
The elder girl, Lady Sansa might have that scandalous shade of hair, flame gold and auburn, but her complexion and bone structure was exquisite. She looked like a porcelain doll, and had such a wonderful figure she barely needed the heavy busks and stays required by all fashionable girls of the town. She moved with a lithe, lovely grace that drew the eye to her immediately. No need for bold jade's tricks to catch a man's attention- she would manage that by herself. It was going to be a pleasure dressing her!
The younger girl, Lady Arya had a stormy scowl on her face, and she could not have looked more bored if she had been trying, but she had the promise of great beauty as well. Dainty features, a long face which once she's grown into her features a little would be striking, big dark grey eyes, and a pouty delectable mouth. She's perfect in every single way, a rose bud on the verge of blooming into a rare rose.
If they were going to court to seek husbands of wealth and elevated birth, they'd cause a sensation! And what better advertisement for her wares and custom than these wonderfully fresh Northern debutantes!
Time passed swiftly planning their wardrobes, and the Stark party was surprised when the doorbell tinkled and another party trooped into the store. It was three o' clock, and even Sansa and Jeyne's enthusiasm for high fashion was starting to wilt. Who knew that buying clothes could prove so exhausting?
Madame addressed the party of newcomers who were browsing avidly, chatting between themselves. "My lady Tyrell, you are a little early. I was not expecting you all until four of the clock."
The other girl gave a dazzling smile, welcoming and open. Sansa sighed inwardly in envy at her sleek, silky curls streaked with golden lights and her creamy complexion as delicately flushed as the petals of the first new buds of spring.
I bet she doesn't have to sit in front of the fire for hours having her hair frizzed and curled. How easily she wears the fashions of the day, as if they were created just for her!
"I know we are a little early Madame Marianne, but my Lady Leonette and Lady Margaery just wanted to browse a little before our appointment. We promise not to disturb you all." the gentleman with them said, putting an arm round one of the ladies and kissing her on the cheek.
She nudged him with an affectionate reproof and a smile on her face. "Garlan, we're in public!"
The other girl, who had been watching the Stark party avidly, strode over to introduce herself. Her eyes were a striking shade of hazel, like honey held up to sunlight, and they sparkled with friendliness. "Hullo, I'm Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden, and these are my brothers Willas and Garlan and my good-sister Leonette. We're so pleased to meet you!" she was shaking Sansa's hand enthusiastically before she knew it.
Sansa was slightly caught off guard by her friendliness and enthusiasm. "Sansa Stark of Winterfell. This is my younger sister Arya, also of House Stark." She gave Arya a budge to catch her attention, "And my dear friend from home, Jeyne Poole."
Jeyne bobbed a respectful curtsy back, utterly awed by the glamorous and gorgeous Tyrells.
She really wanted to make a good impression, especially, especially in front of these gleaming, impressive creatures.
"Are you trying to decide what you want? There's such a lot of choice. I don't blame you for not being able to choose." Margaery said to the girl kindly, assessing the situation.
Sansa gave her a rueful smile. "To be honest, I'm not sure what to select. We've recently come from home in the North and everything's so new. I don't know what the latest thing suitable for court and town is, and we really don't want to get it wrong. First impressions count for so much."
Margaery smiled at her reassuringly. Sansa couldn't help but feel relieved, as if the elder girl had taken her under her wing. "Would you like a second opinion?" Margaery offered. "I've been living in town for a while, and I can help you select the best things to help you all fit in at court."
It was like an answer to her prayers. Sansa lost no time in accepting her generous offer. "Oh yes please, that would be wonderful!"
Margaery settled down on the couch with Leonette in a flurry of dark green and gold patterned silk skirts, and devoted her attention to Sansa as she modelled the latest fashions from the modiste.
Sansa came out of the changing room in a day dress of violet silk, the deep lush colour of pansies. She tugged at the low scooped neckline, unused to showing quite so much flesh in public.
"Does it have to be quite so low?" She fretted. "Is there not a scarf or tucker I could wear with it?"
"Oh no, that neckline is all the rage at the moment," Madame Marianne assured her new client. "Shoulders bared, that elegant rounded décolletage just so, and the bosom pushed up."
Sansa couldn't help but worry that the display of her décolleté was rather immodest.
It wasn't so long ago since the days of Cromwell, and the dictates of the Protectorate, how the septons would fulminate against the wearing of bright ribbons and uncovered hair. Those heavy linen tuckers everyone was obliged to wear to preserve their modesty still lay at the bottom of Sansa's trunk. The drab dark colours, black, grey, brown and beige of their home-spun woollen dresses, the lack of lace or jewels allowed to be displayed. At heart the Starks may have been Royalist in sympathy, but after the war Ned and his family complied with the rules of the new society and lived modest lives.
Since the return of the king and his brilliant glamorous court, this was a bright new world, and for an obedient girl like Sansa, it took some getting used to.
"I just worry, Madame that I might have a wardrobe accident at court."
Madame Marianne sniffed. "No one ever falls out of my gowns, I assure you, madam. They are constructed with the very greatest of care."
Sansa hastened to keep the peace, aware that she might have offended the great modiste. Of course Madame Marianne knew her business! It wasn't for her, a mere maid from the country, to question her wisdom!
"Now let's see the Delft Blue dupion silk, dear. That should be most effective. Remember, shoulders back and chest out, my lady. You want to display yourself at your best advantage."
"Now that is a great colour! Definitely that one, don't you think Leonette?" her new friend said in a decisive tone
"Definitely! Your eye for colour is so keen, Margaery." Her relative said admiringly.
"That blue is wonderful, Miss Sansa, really it is. Take a look in the glass!" Jeyne told her mistress in awe-stricken tones.
"You're so lucky." Margaery said to Sansa with an encouraging beam. "I look a fright in those cool light colours, but that blue suits you so well."
"What shall I do about coiffures? I know everyone wears their hair in bunches of ringlets. Perhaps I should get it cut a bit more fashionably." Sansa asked looking enviously at Margaery's silky curls which fell in large, long, graceful spirals over her shoulders and down her back.
"Ah, but your hair is amazing! Margaery exclaimed. Isn't it beautiful! Look Willas, wouldn't it be a crime to cut it?"
Sansa blushed as she looked up and saw Willas for the first time. He was rather young and dashing, with soft light-brown curls streaked with gold like his sister, but cut into a masculine style, slightly falling into his eyes. Sansa had an urge to push that curl away from his forehead, and see his face properly. She was faintly pleased he wore his own hair and hadn't gone for those heavy periwigs, which seemed to be the vogue for men of fashion at the moment. His eyes were a shade or two greener than Margaery's liquid honey-gold, veering toward a clear hazel.
I shouldn't want to touch a man I don't even know. It is most improper. I don't even know him! If Septa Mordane could see inside her head right now, she would be shocked and horrified at what her star pupil was thinking. Yet the earth-brown velvet of his coat invited her touch, to stroke just once to see if it was as soft and plush as it looked.
"Your hair is beautiful. Please promise you'll ne'er cut it, my lady."
"Thank you." She blushed deeply, curtseying gracefully and presenting her hand for his attention. She felt a thrill of excitement and pleasure at the press of his lips wishing they would linger.
Willas looked at her as if she was the fairest maid he had ever seen. She had to admit if only to herself that it was very gratifying to have such a striking effect on such a good-looking man.
"I have the honour of being Lord Willas Tyrell, Earl of Highgarden. I wanted to thank you for befriending my sister."
"She's been so helpful and kind to me and my companions, really 'twas no trouble at all." She said shyly.
"So you and your sister are making your debuts at court?" He asked as Margaery and Leonette held court about which colours and styles would suit the Lady Arya considering her dark shiny hair, grey eyes and pale skin.
"Yes," she confided in him. "I must admit that I'm a little nervous."
He turned to her, his handsome face sympathetic and concerned by her admission. "Why? I have no doubt you will make a fine impression at court."
"We lived quiet lives back home. Except for our bannermen, we really didn't socialise with the great and good, and now we're going to court and rubbing shoulders with royalty."
"I can see that you fret." His voice was soothing, his fingers absent-mindedly stroking the inside of her wrist in a gesture of comfort. "But you'll find the king rather down to earth. He's not a man who forgets his struggles to be king in a hurry."
"You've met him?"
"Aye, I fought with him as a lad, at the Battle of Worcester." Willas told her.
She wondered whether that explained his knee which he seemed to suffer from.
"I think bold bright colours for my Lady Arya, red, greens and blues but I think she could also take a lilac or a pale grey, or silver - lovely cool colours, shades of winter." Margaery was saying confidently.
"What do you think, Arya?" Sansa dragged her attention away from Willas for a moment to join in the conversation.
"I don't mind this," Arya conceded, looking at a rich garnet velvet. "This might do for a riding habit or a coat."
"You must have some dresses as well, Arya!" Sansa nagged. "If all goes to plan we will have to attend many functions: balls, concerts, nights at the theatre and the like. We have-"
"I know! You don't have to nag!" Arya snapped, irritated by Sansa's fussing.
Margaery subtly smoothed over the disagreement, before it developed into an argument. "We've plenty of time to decide on things. It's barely half three yet. Come, let's not fret."
"So what do you plan to do at court?" Margaery asked Sansa.
"I'm going to court to seek a lady-in-waiting position," Sansa said with enthusiasm. "Mother wanted us both to have proper seasons as her and her sister did. We're going to be chaperoned by her and our governess, Septa Mordane. Our uncle is part of the council and well-connected at court."
"Who is he? My father might well know him." Margaery asked with curiosity.
"Lord Jon Arryn, lord of the Vale," Sansa told her, "Do you know him?"
Margaery and Leonette briefly exchanged a glance of interest, intrigued by how well-connected the girls were.
"You're lucky, girls. He's on the small council and very much in the king's good favour. It's all about 'who you know' at court." Leonette said with interest.
"That's good, isn't it?"
"Well, it will certainly make your lives easier! There's a lot of competition for places at the court; Charles is known for his generosity, and people like to congregate near the seat of power. Lord Arryn may be just the foot in the door you girls require." Garlan told them. "I have the honour to be one of the King's Gentlemen of the Bedchamber, so I regularly attend court. Anything I can do to smooth your path..."
"That's so kind, Ser Garlan! Will we be meeting you all there too? It would be great to have some friendly faces there and you seem to know so much about the place, Lady Margaery?" Sansa asked her new friend. "Do you have a position there too, Lord Willas?"
"Margaery often spends time there, although she as yet doesn't- ah…" He seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if stopping himself from saying something indiscreet, but Sansa was so entranced by the husky mellow tone of his voice that she didn't seem to notice. "- she doesn't have an official position there."
Sansa was intrigued by this, but she said nothing. Her new friend would tell her once she saw fit. It was certainly a bit of a mystery!
Leonette gave Willas a look over her fan as if to warn him not to say any more.
"I warrant there is much of the town you haven't had a chance to enjoy." He said, smoothly changing the subject.
"In truth we have only just arrived. We're still trying to settle into our townhouse." Sansa told him with a shy smile.
He turned to her with interest. "Where do you reside?"
"On Bloomsbury, the house on the corner." Sansa told them.
Willas looked pleased. "That's no so far from us really. We have our London pied-a-terre not far from here, on the other end of the street."
"What luck!" Sansa couldn't believe they were practically neighbours. She found herself envisaging intimate little picnics, suppers and musicales, gentle walks in the garden with Willas. She'd noticed he leaned on a cane and his knee seemed to trouble him. Perhaps he wouldn't be one for dancing but I could play my lute for him?
"I hope you will not feel it too bold if we were to invite you round for luncheon and maybe a trip into town?" Willas was asking her now.
Sansa beamed with pleasure, her eyes sparkling with joy. "That sounds marvellous, thank you so much!"
He met her eyes with another one of his gentle warm smiles that made Sansa's heart beat fast.
"It was a pleasure to meet you all. I hope we shall the pleasure of your acquaintance for many more months to come. Good day, Lady Stark."
Gods, I can't help myself, I really do like him. Sansa thought, as he and his family said goodbye.
"A card Mademoiselle- from the Tyrells," Jeyne said as she presented it on a silver salver. "Shall I get the messenger to wait for a response?"
Sansa was so thrilled to receive it that she almost ripped the card in half in her excitement.
Dear Lady Stark,
Such a pleasure to meet you and your delightful family at the modiste. I sincerely hope you will allow us the pleasure of getting to know you all better.
Willas insists we must invite you all round for a small informal supper at ours. How about seven of the clock on Wednesday eve? You can't miss our pied de terre- it's the one with the green door and roses carved round it.
Can't wait to see you all again, and hoping we'll be the best of friends
Margaery Rosalind Tyrell
She was unaccountably happy at the thought of Margaery's handsome older brother and having the chance to meet him again. What a fascinating and intriguing man! He had the soft brown curls streaked with gold, which must run in the Tyrell family. Such a kind, sunny smile Willas had, gentle and open.
"Are you going to meet them?" asked Jeyne, as she sorted their new purchases. She unpacked her ceramic large barrelled tongs, which were specially bought to recreate the loose ringlets so modish for ladies of fashion.
"Of course, they've been so friendly to us it would be rude not to return the gesture - and they are practically neighbours." Even as she spoke, she thought she sounded as if she was making excuses for herself. I sound far too interested in Lord Willas Tyrell and I've barely even met him!
Jeyne made a knowing little noise and busied herself with arranging their purchases
"What"? Sansa said to her handmaiden sharply, embarrassed that it was so obvious that she was interested in Willas. I'm fooling no-one here, am I?
"Well, he is a handsome man of good family. You could do a lot worse," Jeyne remarked with a twinkle in her dark eyes.
"I've only just arrived in London. I've not even been to Court yet!" Sansa protested, her cheeks growing warm.
"Well, he's a handsome man! I would stake my claim, before he gets snapped up by some London miss, my Lady. Those lovely hazel eyes…"
"Jeyne Poole! That's enough out of you, young lass!" Septa Mordane interrupted, entering the room and looking forbiddingly at the handmaiden.
"I didn't say anything wrong, septa, honestly I was just-" Jeyne pleaded her innocence.
The Septa sniffed in disapproval. Jeyne was a good girl most of the time but she was a mite too interested in the males if you asked her, and had a worrying tendency to moon over entirely the wrong sort, just like that Greyjoy lad Ned took on as a ward. She would have to keep an eye out for the girl.
"I heard what you said, young lady. Believe it well!" she intoned, looking down her nose forbiddingly.
As soon as Jeyne scurried away, having been suitably chastened, Sansa turned to her septa.
"Would it be permissible for us to attend this musicale at the Tyrells? You remember, we met them at the modiste?"
Septa Mordane scanned the little card, with keen eyes. Sansa found herself silently hoping her septa would not object. She found she really wanted to go and meet Margaery and Willas in their town house.
"Well, everything seems perfectly in order." she said eventually. "I don't see what harm it will do. Of course, I shall have to consult with Lady Arryn about this."
Sansa thought this was a bit rich, since they hadn't even met Lady Arryn. She wasn't sure how much she really wanted to be dictated to by a woman she barely knew, even if she was her Aunt.
"Thank you Septa. It's most important that we start to make friends here." She said dutifully.
"All the same, I'll be going with you my lady, just to be sure. One can't be too careful in the big city, dear."
Sansa couldn't settle down to sleep. She was very excited about the supper at the Tyrell's townhouse and the chance she would meet Willas again. I do hope we become friends, she told herself, as she tried to go to sleep. I really hope that he likes me as much I might very easily start to like him.
It was not long before she was going to the palace to make her debut and be introduced to the king and his family. It was a big adventure and Sansa wasn't quite sure whether she was ready to take the step.
Mother and Aunt Lysa went to court all those years ago to make great matches, and meet their peers. When Mother left Riverrun she must have been my age, or a little younger, and that was in the middle of a war! If she could do it, and meet Uncle Brandon and then my father, then so can I. At least I've started to make friends here. Lady Margaery and her family were so welcoming and pleasant. I'm so glad we met them today at the modiste.
What a stroke of luck that was!