Schemes vs. Seduction
Chapter Two: Dreams are a funny thing
Bleach; Ichihime AU Regency England
Word Count: 3650
Warning: none
Disclaimer: all characters herein are the property of Kubo Tite.
*2011 FLOL Writing Challenge*
Fanart for this project, created by the talented Child of the Ashes, can be found here (remove the spaces): http:/ child-of-the-ashes. deviantart. com/ art/ FLOL-Fanwork-Challenge-253302134
~o0o~
A shaft of morning light pierced through a gap in the curtains and painted a bright swathe across the big four-poster bed. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. And, there were hot scones –currant by the smell- on the bedside table.
It should have been the perfect start to her day …
Laying amid her rumbled covers, Lady Orihime Inoue, sister of the late Earl of Highwell, and daughter of the previous drunken Earl, stared at the gauzy tester above her bed while her maid bustled around the dim room. It was time to get up, but Orihime's mind was in a whirl as she pondered her waking dream. It was shocking –unthinkable, really- and yet, so very tempting.
Her dream showed her another path than the one she was currently walking. It was something she hadn't allowed herself to think of before –well not seriously anyway, and definitely not in the years since her brother passed on. However, her dream wasn't the only reason she was at sixes and sevens this morning.
She had Ichigo returning to Town to thank for that.
He arrived earlier in the week, but she hadn't chanced upon him until last night. She had been so happy to see him at a social event and wished they could have talked, if only for a moment. Orihime recognized that impatient look in his eyes though; he had other plans. Her fingers pleated the stitched cotton coverlet as she idly wondered who his latest conquest was: Lady Denham or maybe the not-so Honorable Agnes Birtwistle …
Slapping her arms against the covers, she pushed the vulgar speculation from her mind and kicked free of her blankets. What Ichigo did in his private life didn't concern her. She was his friend, not his conscience. They agreed several years back not to meddle in each other's lives after they argued –for weeks- over her volunteering her time at the foundling hospital.
Supporting a charitable cause with her money was acceptable. However, working directly with the children living there was something altogether different to Ichigo's mind, telling her it wasn't at all proper and quite possibly dangerous. Poppycock. Sora's brush with a green horse outside the hospital's gates had been a terrible accident, nothing more. The children inside were not responsible for his death.
Blinking away moisture welling at the corners of her eyes, Orihime remembered how –in the end- her and Ichigo had agreed to disagree. Still wearing half-mourning for her brother, she started working at the hospital, reading to the little ones and teaching the older ones their letters, while Ichigo pursued a popular opera singer, one with breasts almost as big as her voice…
Why was she even thinking about that? It happened years ago. Besides, this was no time to lie abed; she decided she had plans of her own to set into motion. She wasn't getting any younger after all. There were calls to make, correspondence to write, lists to make …and scones to eat.
With that thought in mind, she grabbed a still warm biscuit and bit into the crumbly bit of goodness. Ahh, heavenly. She groaned and licked the crumbs from the corner of mouth before grudgingly surrendering her breakfast to accept a steaming cup of tea from her maid, Peggy.
Throwing open the heavy drapes, allowing the mid-morning sunlight to shine in, Peggy bustled towards the connecting door to Orihime's dressing room. "There's a bit of a nip in the air this morning, would you prefer the blue worsted or the green merino?"
"Hmm …" Orihime set her cup down thoughtlessly on the edge of the tray, lost in the many thoughts crowding her mind. Coming to a decision, she punched a small fist against her opened palm. "Neither. I feel like wearing pink today."
Racing forward to rescue the china cup before it could crash to the floor; Peggy quickly looked up, her mouth hanging open in surprise. "P-pink?"
Nodding in affirmation, Orihime shrugged into the dressing gown lying at the foot of her bed. She wandered to the window looking over her small back garden and popped the corner of her biscuit in her mouth, thinking. For several months now she'd been plagued by a feeling that something was missing in her life. There was no reason she should feel dissatisfaction though. She was living life exactly as she pleased. Her work at the foundling hospital was fulfilling, her calendar was full of entertainments, and she had many wonderful friends. However …
Last night's dream felt real. So real in fact that Orihime was disappointed to wake and find it was only a figment of her imagination. And she found she wanted her dream to become her new reality, desperately. But how does one turn dreams into reality?
Orihime allowed Peggy to dress her for the day, all the while pondering this dilemma until it finally came to her. Turning with a swish of rose-pink striped skirts, she forced herself to stand patiently while her maid buttoned the day gown up the back. Crossing the room to her writing desk the moment she was done, Orihime told Peggy she could do her hair in a moment. She needed to talk to Rukia immediately, sooner than soon, now.
Tugging a piece of stationery paper free, she laid it on the blotter and flicked the silver-capped inkwell open. Dipping her pen in the ink, Orihime paused with the nib poised over the paper for a moment before committing herself fully as she dashed off a quick note asking Rukia to come earlier than the three o'clock tea they planned earlier in the week. She wouldn't be able to wait that long to get started.
"Peggy," Orihime called for her maid as she blotted the paper. She folded and addressed her missive, waving it through the air to dry before holding it out to her long-suffering maid with a pleading smile. "Have this sent over to Rotterwood right away. Tell them there won't be an answer."
Well used to the constant stream of correspondence that seemed to fly between Rotterwood House in Knightsbridge and Orihime's more modest townhouse in Mayfair, Peggy took the folded note and called one of the footmen stationed in the hall to see that they delivered the missive posthaste before returning to finish her mistress's morning toilet.
Bent over her rosewood escritoire, Orihime's pink clad bottom wiggled from side to side as she pulled a large piece of foolscap from a drawer. Her excitement was building, so much so, she couldn't even stand still, let alone sit demurely on her chair as was expected. Placing the paper on the center of her desk, she nibbled on the edge of her lip while staring at the blank sheet. This will surely be the list that changes my life. She mused philosophically before beginning.
She lifted her head moments later at the sound of light scratching on her bedroom door. Her pen hovered in midair while Peggy swung the door open to reveal her butler, Giles.
"Lord Kurosaki has arrived and asks if you are receiving visitors."
Ichigo? She had a feeling he'd call today but in all honesty, she wasn't expecting him until later. Glancing at the small clock on the mantle, Orihime's brows shot up in surprise. Half past one? Was it that time already? Her list making must have taken longer than she thought.
"Shall I tell him you're not in?"
She shook her head, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "Please show Lord Kurosaki to the drawing room and tell him I'll be right down." Her butler bowed respectfully and Orihime called after him before he could leave. "Oh, and see that you send a tray of coffee. He'll be grumpy otherwise." She requested, knowing how cranky Ichigo could be after a night out, and continued adding to her list, not paying attention as her maid and butler whispered conspiratorially near the door.
Meanwhile, Ichigo was left cooling his heels in Orihime's entry. His foot tapped a steady cadence against the polished marble floor as his irritation mounted. He'd been friends with Orihime since their early teens and came to visit her often while in Town. His mother was the one who presented Orihime at court to make her curtsy to the Queen before her come out. He even came down from school to be at her side when her brother died from a senseless accident at the age of 32. But her stiffly starched butler continued to treat him as nothing more than a chance acquaintance …and an unwelcome one at that.
Rolling his eyes at Giles' suspicious treatment, his gaze landed on the silver salver placed on a nearby hall table and his foot stopped its repetitious tapping. Ichigo wasn't surprised to see that it already held any number of calling cards and a nosegay or two of spring flowers. Orihime was a popular entity among the glittering and self-absorbed mass that made up their world. Even though she'd taken to wearing a cap and calling herself an on-the-shelf spinster, men still fawned on her. Thankfully, they were the type to worship her from afar rather than trying to possess, otherwise Ichigo'd never be able to let her out of his sight.
Thinking of Rukia's rankling comment from the night before, he was quick to point out –if only to himself- that it was only because Orihime was his dear friend and alone in the world, not because he thought of her as a sister.
Ichigo wasn't certain why the distinction was necessary, only that it was …
Giles returned as silently as he'd left, surprising Ichigo from his thoughts. Her butler ushered him upstairs into a cheery room overlooking the street. Looking around the high ceilinged room, his eyes flicked from the impressive chandelier hanging in the center to the many mirrors lining the walls to the thick Axminster carpet beneath his feet, and felt his shoulders relax, so far nothing had changed in her house either. No scandalous statuary. No exotic animals. No new charitable organization that required her to house a bevy of guttersnipes in her music room. Even so, Ichigo still couldn't shake the feeling –however vague- that there was change in the air concerning Orihime.
Giles coughed discreetly from his position near the doors and murmured. "I was informed the Lady Orihime is feeling pink today."
That feeling wasn't so vague all of a sudden …
"Oh God, not pink?" Ichigo blasphemed unthinkingly, coming to a dead stop. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping Giles wasn't serious. He was. His butler's training wouldn't allow his apprehension to show in either his expression or carriage, but Ichigo knew. Orihime was planning something. Something life changing.
Orihime infamously wore pink -or lighter shades of mauve when she went out- for two weeks solid when deciding to continue her brother's work at the foundling hospital. Instead of reentering the social whirl after her mourning ended, she volunteered, at the age of ten and eight, to work with the abandoned and orphaned children …all the while, stubbornly refusing to listen to him. Her mind was made up and Ichigo was left with no recourse but accept her decision. However, that didn't stop him from silently promising to watch over her and make certain she came to no harm. That was over seven years ago …
"Lady Orihime will be with you shortly …" Giles backed from the room with a bow and reached out to pull the double doors closed, "After first finishing her list."
A list too? Heaven help us all. Ichigo muttered under his breath as Giles made a low sound of agreement before the doors closed with an almost inaudible click. She was wearing pink and making lists? This was serious stuff indeed.
Orihime arrived some ten minutes later, fast on the heels of her butler as Giles made delivery of the coffee tray. She bounced into the room, a bright smile curling her lips. "Ichigo!" she held her hands out to him as he stood.
"Good morning, Orihime." He folded his fingers over her small hands and gave them a quick squeeze.
Ichigo resumed his seat after Orihime first sat on the blue brocade chaise opposite of him. Exchanging small talk about his trip to the country, the weather, and Renji and Rukia's stalled courtship, she fixed a cup of coffee just the way he liked it –dash of cream, two sugars- while he looked her over from under lowered brows. Giles was correct. Orihime was indeed in a pink mood. Her striped high collar day gown was pink, pink slippers peeked out from under the hem of said gown, even the lace cap she insisted on wearing over her hair was edged in pink.
His eyes strayed back to the lace cap that marked her as a spinster. A wholly unnecessary accessory in his opinion. His mouth thinned with displeasure before he forcibly relaxed his expression. "Tell me, what Pink Perfection plan are you hatching now?"
Bright brown eyes darted up to meet his. "Oh, you noticed?" She cried, practically vibrating with excitement.
Ichigo accepted the fine china teacup and saucer from her, not telling her that Giles tipped him off prior to her arrival. Inhaling the rich scent of coffee, he took a drink of the dark brew, fortifying himself for what lay ahead. Orihime's plans were legendary, in a bad way that bordered on horrific to his thinking. However, he would never tell her that.
"Yes. Now, before you eject yourself from your chair, tell me what you're planning."
"My wedding."
His cup clattered against its saucer alarmingly as his head jerked up in surprise. This was worse than horrific. "Your what!"
"My wedding." She repeated with a patient smile curving her lips as she calmly continued to stir her coffee.
His fingers tightened unconsciously around the delicate handle of the cup. "What happened while I was out of town? No one told me you were engaged."
"I'm not engaged, at least not yet." She said with a laugh as she placed the spoon on the tray. "I saw my future last night …and it was marvelous!"
"Excuse me?"
Raising her cup to her mouth, Orihime paused before taking a sip and clarified. "I had a dream."
Ichigo stared at his friend's glowing countenance in exasperation. A dream. He just about had apoplexy over a damn dream. Carefully placing his cup and saucer on the table, he rubbed a hand over his face and groaned. "I think you should tell me about this dream."
"I don't know where to start."
"At the beginning would be a good place, I'd think."
"Well," she began slowly, staring into the half-empty cup in her hand, her gaze unfocused. "I was married and living in the country. However, it wasn't my manor or even Highwell Hall, but a neat country house built of warm golden stone. A well-tended garden stretched downhill to a small summerhouse surrounded by an old apple orchard. There was a cool clear stream cut through the property below the orchard and thick grass and wildflowers grew right up to its banks.
"What?" He arched a brow in confusion. Impossible. Orihime never laid eyes on that property. However, her description sounded eerily like…
"It was there, surrounded by flowers and laughter, that I was sitting on a blanket under the branches of a gnarled tree, reading a dog-eared storybook to a little girl while two more children splashed in the sandy shallows of the stream under the watchful eye of their nanny."
She sighed, a soft shivery sound and his skin prickled in response as if a goose just walked over his grave.
"There was such a feeling of contentment and peace …and love." Orihime continued dreamily as she leaned forward to place her cup back on the tray. "It was wonderful, magical almost. I'm certain I had a very good husband, seeing as he seen fit to give me three beautiful children …well, four I guess, seeing as I was all round and fat in my dream."
Ichigo narrowed his eyes, feeling a strange niggle of discomfort in the pit of his stomach. "Who did you marry exactly?"
Orihime blinked the room back into focus and furrowed her brows. "I …I really don't know." She looked only marginally put out by that point before shrugging her shoulders dismissively. "I guess anyone will do as long as they're male and able to …to …"
Watching her gesture with vague hand motions, he sighed and supplied Orihime with the word he assumed she was stumbling over. "Procreate?"
"Yes, that." She smiled gratefully, a rosy blush warming her cheeks. Dropping her gaze, Orihime glanced around, obviously searching for something before retrieving a folded piece of paper from her pocket with a flourish. "Which brings me to my list."
"Not another one of your infernal lists." Ichigo groaned and eyed the decanter of brandy on the sideboard with longing. Coffee wasn't nearly strong enough when it came to dealing with the damage wrought -usually to his person or dignity- by Orihime's confounded lists. And this one promised to be the worst yet. She was talking as if she wanted a husband for stud service alone. This could only in end in disaster.
Bloody hell, I really do want that drink now …
Well used to his grumpy complaints, Orihime ignored his grumbling and spread the crinkled paper out across her lap. She knew Ichigo wouldn't agree with her plan. However, he wasn't so much of a hypocrite that he would condemn her for her idea though, seeing as he planned to do much the same thing in another ten or fifteen years. Marry some nubile thing and get her with child, the woman didn't matter so much as the result, an heir …and possibly a spare. Those were the exact words she'd overheard him tell Renji some five years ago. And going by his actions in the time since, Ichigo had every indication of following through on those plans to the letter.
"Why the sudden interest in marriage? I thought …"
Looking up at the odd tone in his voice, Orihime watched Ichigo tug on his neatly tied cravat, almost as if his neck cloth were chocking him. Tilting her head to the side, she waited for him to continue.
"I thought you were happy with your life the way it is."
"I am happy with my life." She was quick to assure him and tried to think how to explain herself. But could he even begin to understand what she was feeling? This dissatisfaction? This emptiness? Ichigo was quite happy living life completely unfettered, free to flit from bed to bed…
No, she wasn't going to think about that again.
Unthinkingly massaging the sore spot high on the left side of her chest, Orihime glanced to the side and quietly reiterated. "I am happy with my life …but I never intended to spend it alone. I am almost 26, after all."
"So what?" Ichigo's mouth thinned as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm the same age, and you won't see me racing towards the church anytime soon."
She closed her eyes and sighed inwardly. Of course he didn't understand. He was a man, after all.
Coming to her feet in a sudden rush, Orihime paced to the recessed bank of windows overlooking Curzon Street and stared blankly at the passing carriages and handful of people walking sedately down the pavement without a care in the world. Their very calmness seemed to mock her.
Unable to keep still, she idly arranged the items on the side table before calling herself a coward and turned to face him. "Yes, but it is different for men, isn't it? Their window of opportunity to …to …"
"Procreate?"
"Yes, that." Orihime nodded, blushing once again and quickly plowed ahead to make her point before she lost her nerve. "Men have a larger window of opportunity. They can afford to take their time. Women …women don't have that luxury if they want children." She finished quietly.
Ichigo stared at her silently. A long moment passed, then he looked away, deflated. "That's still no reason to rush into marriage."
Gracefully sinking beside him on the narrow settee, she looked up into Ichigo's eyes, easily seeing the concern and unease he tried to hide in their dark depths. He really was the greatest of friends. Orihime mused as she rested her hand on his forearm. Feeling the rich material of his wool coat sliding under her fingertips, she patted his arm reassuringly. "Give me some credit, Ichigo. I'm not going to rush willy-nilly into this."
He released the breath he wasn't even aware of holding and nodded in satisfaction. "Good."
"I knew you'd feel this way, that's why I planned ahead and made a list." She sent him a smile full of affection, one he easily returned and her breath caught in the back of her throat.
While Orihime did adore his scowls, there was no denying Ichigo was like a different person when he smiled, softer, more approachable, positively charming. If the young ladies of the ton ever saw him smile like that, he'd have to beat them off with a stick. Blinking away that mental picture, Orihime pulled her hand from his arm and busied herself with straightening the coffee tray.
"Also, I'm having tea with Rukia later today." she paused while folding a napkin before she nodded with determination. "Together, we're sure to find someone eligible for me to marry before the season ends."
Ichigo tensed. Orihime married, before the season ends? His eyes jerked to the side to stare at her profile and his face fell. But that was less than three months away …
~o0o~
A/N: Thank you to everyone who read, added to their favorites and/or alerted, and reviewed. You made me ridiculously happy. And a big thank you to Nypsy for catching those errors, that's what I get for adding things in a rush right before posting.
With that said, I'm heading out the door again. D: Thanks for reading. ~Rairakku