Summary: A mark gone wrong changes the lives of everyone involved.
[excerpt]: Hux whispered. "The girl will surely be dead in several years, either at the hands of this brute, or as a syphilitic prostitute, or imprisoned in Newgate. Why not offer her an alternative? Perhaps an apprenticeship with one of the staff at Caserta Hall?"
"She is an impudent chit, and worse. A mannerless thief. A gutter rat. A scavenger. And now you wish to bring her into my home?!" Ren looked at Hux as if he had suddenly sprouted two heads.
~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~
Style is the dress of thoughts; and let them be ever so just, if your style is homely, coarse, and vulgar, they will appear to as much disadvantage, and be as ill received, as your person, though ever so well proportioned, would if dressed in rags, dirt, and tatters
-Lord Chesterfield
xx
Caserta Hall sat on the southern edge of Northern Maridunshire. The first site of the Hall had been occupied since the beginning of the13th century, and it was currently the seat of the Organa-Solo family, the Marquesses of Alderaan. It encompassed an area of over two hundred square miles, running 20 miles north to south, and 8 to 15 miles in breadth. The region was remarkable for its beauty and for the diversity of its scenery.
The northernmost tip was wild, containing the high, peaty moorlands, with the Marindunshire plains and the Mandalore mountain range visible on a clear day to the far north. Caserta Hall itself was located in the central area of Caserta Old Park, bordered by the Endor Forest, ripe with game. It sat on a hill with a commanding view of the fertile countryside, fed by the Kamino River. The river was sourced at the southern edge of the moors before flowing in a southwesterly direction, crossing five noble seats in its meandering path. There were also several market towns, primarily located in Caserta New Park, in addition to the numerous townships and nearly one hundred villages and hamlets. The abundance of sandstone, shales and clay in the region, as well as other minerals and ore, made the market towns highly sought after repositories for pottery, metalwork and jewelry.
Kylo loved coming to Caserta Hall as a child. Han, Leia, Kylo and his sister Phasma would make the three-day trip from London in a coach pulled by six Greys, the Organa-Solo coat of arms emblazoned on the door. They spent their nights in coaching inns and their days on the road, traveling through the endless towns and farmlands until the terrain finally morphed into the rolling hills of Caserta Old Park. He and Phasma would peek excitedly through the coach's windows as they neared the Grand Lodge, knowing that this last segment, a mile-long drive flanked by majestic oaks extending from the Grand Lodge to the Hall, finally signaled the end of their journey and the start of the off-season.
Caserta Hall was a beautiful, Palladian-styled home, its three-bayed center portico and great flanking wings spreading majestically over the top of the tallest hill. When he was very young, Kylo loved walking through Caserta's beautiful gardens filled with azaleas, mahonias and rhododendrons. He would throw pebbles into its lily ponds, marvel at its peacock-shaped topiaries, or kneel behind its hedges, hoping to catch Phasma in moment of surprise. He ran through its rooms while giving chase to his sister or Hux, the echoes of their shouts and the pattering of their feet ricocheting off the oak-panelled walls of the Great Hall. In the upcoming months, as the off-season progressed, the summer sounds of laughing children would eventually be replaced by autumnal visitors, winter balls and lavish parties filled with dancing and games and food and everyone in their best finery.
As they grew older, Kylo and Phasma would participate in the shooting season. Caserta's huge lands and mix of forests and moorlands blessed them with a large number of game, including plenty of grouse, pheasants, partridge and duck, and it was here where they learned how to wield a scattergun and a flintlock. Phasma took after her father, being an excellent markswoman. She rarely missed at fowling, and it was not uncommon for her to bag two. Kylo, although an admirable shot himself, took more after Leia, having an innate ability to sense the game birds from where they took cover and flush them into flight.
In the late autumn and winter months, when the fields lay fallow, the children participated in fox hunting season. Phasma resolutely refused to be part of the group of women awaiting at home for their men to return from the hunt. Some looked upon her as an oddity and others as the byproduct of indulgent and eccentric parenting. However, her peerage allowed her some additional security to ignore the more commonplaced notions of respectability.
Phasma had great courage and was highly skilled in tracking and jumping. She could always be found in front of the pack of tromping horses and excited hounds, her tall figure cutting an imposing and glorious image as she rode side saddle, cloaked in her scarlet riding habit. Her brother also enjoyed the thrill and speed of the chase. Despite his large size, Kylo was adept at riding thoroughbreds, whether for racing or for sport. He felt as one with the hot-blooded breed. Physically, their long necks, powerful chests, lean bodies and long legs mirrored his own. Spiritually, their boldness, agility and speed reflected his hardwired, animalistic grace.
One of the benefits of Caserta having the space and means to organize the hunts was that the Organa-Solo home became a center for the endless rounds of house parties during the off-season. Owners from neighboring areas who didn't have the amount of land or the means to conduct a successful run would participate, allowing the enhancement of social and political ties. The hunts also supported Caserta's local villages and market towns, creating a booming business for its taverns and inns, as well as financial support for the groomsmen, trainers, farriers, veterinarians and all others who were required to assist.
It was during an invitation to one of these runs where Kylo was first introduced to Sir Andrew Snoke, a baronet, and his daughter Bazine.
It was this particular introduction which would change Kylo's life irrevocably.
~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~
Hux leaned back, finishing his bird and a bottle of ale, a contented look settling across the fine features of his face. The tavern had more than sufficed for a quick snack. The food of the city and on the battlefield were no match for the fresh meats and locally sourced dairy of the country, his satisfied stomach acknowledging its agreement.
A pleasured sigh left his lips. "That was wonderful. It's been too long since I've had a proper meal."
Kylo smirked. "And it's been too long since I've had a proper fuck. Or an improper one, at that," he added as he watched a fine piece pass them by, her lashes fluttering and hips swaying invitingly in front of his appreciative eyes.
Hux laughed. "Your ability to withstand such suffering is admirable, Ren. How long has it been? Two days?"
Ren grinned. For the first time in over a week, he felt some of his tension and unease dissipate as he allowed himself to finally relax in his new surroundings. Prior to Hux's arrival at Caserta, Ren had wandered its empty halls, unable to cope with the enormity of its quiet and the noise of his thoughts. Han and Leia were not coming up for another month, until Parliament was adjourned. The splitting of loyalties within the Whig party during the French Revolution and the upheaval following Pitt's death several years later required the couple to remain in London to help consolidate the party's ideals and eventual direction before they could join their son at Caserta.
Hux, recently promoted to Lieutenant General and serving under the great General Arthur Wellesley, seemed to have no problems in transitioning between his aristocratic and military lifestyles. He managed to keep himself busy no matter his environs, in a way which Kylo envied. Just this morning, Hux was up for nearly three hours before breakfast, busy working on his correspondence.
Whereas Kylo was...directionless. Hux glanced at his friend as they paid for their meal. Ren's strong features seemed at odds with his mouth, which seemed these days to be set in a perpetual downturn. Even with all his indulgences, he never seemed to be truly pleased. He wondered what happened to the mischievous and lively boy he once knew from their days at Westminster.
It was warm for July and the town was busy, a sign of prosperous times and the recent manufacturing boom. The two men cut dashing figures as they made their way through the throngs of townsfolk.
A figure furtively watched the pair's progress from the small alleys and the bylanes in which she hid. She had sighted the men as soon as they had exited the tavern. One of the males was tall and lean, his straight posture and regal bearing lending additional height to his six foot frame. His reddish-gold hair was neatly kept, sideburns trimmed, green eyes warm and kind, patrician features delicate and handsome. The soft blue of his single breasted coat flattered the line of his shoulders, the plated buttons closing in on a slim waist. The taller of the men was dressed in black, the collar of his shirt barely making its way up the length of his neck. The expensive cloth of his morning coat showed off the breadth of his shoulders and chest, and his black kerseymere breeches were neatly tucked into polished Hessian boots. A scar cut across the angle of his right cheek, lending him a severity at odds with his age. The impeccable cut of his clothes and the natural-born assurance with which he carried himself made her think that he was the wealthier of the two despite his unconventional appearance, and she set him as her mark.
She tucked in a stray hair underneath her well-worn cap, trying to ignore the hunger pains and noises originating from her stomach. It was a stark contrast to these men, their bellies full, content with drink and snack. Their clothes and posture indicated they lacked for little, if anything, in life. They were high in the instep and plump in the pocket, pigeons ripe for the plucking.
She continued to follow them stealthily, keeping her jacket close around her waist, her breathing quickening due to a flare of nervousness as well as the bindings which wrapped around her chest, her slim figure slipping in and out of the crowds. She preferred to work alone, instead of being part of a swarm of thieves or bully cocks looking to misdirect and distract their prey, sharing in the spoils. She was patient, knowing it would be a good score. Her doggedness was rewarded when the pair stopped in front of a store window, to check on its wares.
She brushed against the taller of the men, the one with the fancy clothes and tell tale bulge in his pockets. She bumped against his hard chest with a quick "I'm sorry" as her hand simultaneously dipped into the slit of his morning coat. She thrust her fingers in quickly, straight and stiff in their opening as she hooked them around its contents of the pocket, hoping for something of great value. She experienced the heady rush of success along with the pitter patter of her heart as she withdrew her hand slightly and turned to walk away with her prize.
A firm hand grasped her wrist, twisting it painfully as the male brought her up against him.
"What have we here?" He sneered, eyeing her with disgust.
The girl's heart was in her throat. She had mercifully dropped the watch and coin back into his pockets when she felt his huge hand on hers, an automatic response to the surprise and pain, and it was now empty, free from any incriminating evidence. She thought quickly, and began to scream.
"Take your hands off me, you wretched man! I am not some strumpet, ripe and prone to venery!" She tried to wrench herself away from his grasp, causing her jacket to gape and her hat to fall.
She flinched as the man looked at her distastefully, and watched his eyes widen as he realized that the natty boy was actually a natty girl. A young looking one at that, not even fully formed. His handsome companion, ginger hair almost gold in the sun, laughed uproariously, although not altogether unkindly.
The dark male looked down, threat in his eyes. "I do not take kindly to pickpockets."
Their confrontation quickly brought a man to the girl's side. He was heavyset with jowls which seemed to go on for days, glistening with sweat in the heat of the July sun. A hulkey, clumsy and thick-headed fellow, with a surliness and boorish nature to match.
"My apologies for my ward's ill-behavior. I can assure you that she meant you two gents no harm." He dragged the girl back behind him as he stuck out a meaty hand, moisture on his palm. Kylo looked at it in disgust at his impertinence, and the hand fell back to the man's side at the obvious insult from the noble. He bent in a mock bow. "Unkar Plutt, at your service."
"No harm was done only because I caught that beggarly thief before she was able to pilfer my coin. What sort of a cullable fool do you take me for?" He turned to the girl, looking at her as if in warning. "A regular Moll Cutpurse, aren't you? Are you aiming to spend the rest of your life in Newgate Prison?"
"She will be properly taken care of. I assure you that it will not happen again." Plutt looked at the two men, attempting to play to their compassions. "It is the fault of the Marquess, and the financial stressors of the war, that so many of us go hungry and need to resort to such measures."
Hux broke in. "Do you know to whom you speak? This is Lord Ren, Earl of Alderaan. Son of the Marquess."
The man had the decency to look ashamed and slightly unnerved as the rolls of fat shook and shifted within the rough fabric of his coat. "My apologies. Perhaps we can find some way to appease My Lord." He leaned forward, whispering so only Ren could hear. "Perhaps the girl can provide a physical recompense of sorts."
Kylo looked at the man and girl in a mixture of surprise at Plutt's boldness and revulsion at the prospect. The girl was too skinny, too tan, filthy and no doubt smelled of sweat and rot. She looked to be no older than fourteen, with only the hint of budding breasts or child-bearing hips underneath her moth eaten jacket and tattered shirt. He shuddered, to think that men would be as desperate to lay with something like that. He answered Plutt, barely containing the rage and contempt from his voice.
"I would rather satisfy my needs with my hand than to lay with the likes of a child."
The girl visibly flinched at his brutal honesty. She had until now avoided selling her body even as it betrayed her, the softness developing for years where she didn't want it to, which she desperately tried to hide with her bindings and mannish clothes. She preferred to live on thievery or scavengery for as long as she could, and wanted to be no one's doxy, but his open look of horror and rude insults cut her to the core.
She drew up, shouting at the pompous male. "I would never lie with the likes of you!"
Hux raised his brow. "Finally, Ren, a girl who is immune to your charms."
Ren's head tilted slightly as he assessed the girl, her hands fisted to her sides and anger flashing in her eyes. He tried to place her accent. It wasn't a Cockney, or rural Irish, or even a conservative American pronunciation, but an unplaceable mix of twang and sharpness and drawl. His ruminations were cut short as the chit brought her head back and spit at his feet. He watched in furious surprise at the frothy wetness which now marred the impeccable shine of his boots.
The heavy set gentleman reared back and hit the girl, knocking her to the ground. "You ungrateful highte-tity! Mind your manners! Wipe the gentleman's boots." He ushered her towards Ren's feet
Ren's eyes narrowed. "That won't be necessary," his voice a mixture of anger and embarrassment as he took a handkerchief from his pocket, the cambric muslin material wiping off the offending liquid.
Hux stepped forward, not tolerating the physical assault against a female, pickpocket or not. He laid his hand on the heavyset male, gripping his shoulder tightly and painfully as a blatant warning.
Plutt took a step back. "My apologies, gentlemen. This girl, she is an orphan. An American, with no family or manners to speak of. It was only from the goodness of my heart that I took her in as my own, eight years ago. As you can see, despite my efforts and good will, she is impossibly headstrong. I am only trying to do my best, with what little I have."
At that moment, the constable approached. There was a large crowd of curious onlookers and townsfolk surrounding them as well.
"Is there a problem, My Lord?"
Hux pulled Ren aside. He had seen his friend's eyes alight during the confrontation, replacing the dullness which had existed there for so long. He had keenly observed Kylo's burgeoning interest and unwanted fascination with the girl, even as he was simultaneously angered and repulsed by her.
"Ren. A word with you, if I may."
Hux whispered. "The girl will surely be dead in several years, either at the hands of this brute, or as a syphilitic prostitute, or imprisoned in Newgate. Why not offer her an alternative? Perhaps an apprenticeship with one of the staff at Caserta Hall?"
"She is an impudent chit, and worse. A mannerless thief. A gutter rat. A scavenger. And now you wish to bring her into my home?!" Ren looked at Hux as if he had suddenly sprouted two heads.
The redhead persisted. "Think of how you can use this to your advantage, Ren. Plutt mentioned that there have been grumblings of discord against your family. An act like this would be showing the lesser class a great consideration. You, the benevolent son, concerned for the welfare of his tenants. It would be a demonstration of good will and mercy. The act would be of little imposition on you personally, as you have the staff to train and watch over the girl closely."
Ren did not shut down Hux immediately. "She is too old and ill-mannered to train. She shows no respect for those above her station. I do not think anyone can change who or what she is, and I wouldn't want to burden my staff with such as task."
"She looks smart and quick, Ren. If anyone could do it, I would bet on you."
Ren laughed, the sound of it slightly harsh and foreign. "What, you would have me teach her how to be a scullery maid?"
Hux shook his head. "Of course not. Perhaps you could introduce her to the ways of the gentry. Work to improve her manner and her dress. With your guidance, and the resources at your disposal, I wouldn't be surprised if you could transform this pickpocket into a lady."
Ren snorted. "Yes. She is the model of a docile, educated and refined woman."
"You have no desire to bed her. Perhaps an interaction with the fairer sex without such distractions would make you appreciate them in a different manner. More importantly, you would be saving her from him," Hux jerked his head towards Plutt. "And whatever lies ahead in her miserable life as it is."
Hux, ever the strategist, dared him with a gleam in his eyes. "Unless you're not up to the challenge."
Ren's eyes flashed. He was never one to back away from a contest.
"I see what you're doing here, Hux. However, I accept your challenge. Not only will I do as you ask, we shall take her back to London when I am finished and pass her off to the ton." His eyes gleamed wickedly at the thought of gammoning some of the simpering dandies and starched peers eager to find a mate in the upcoming Season. "But I want something in return. A gentleman's wager, if you will, which I will collect when I succeed."
Hux nodded slowly. Fair was fair.
"If I accomplish this task, you will accept my invitation to an entertainment of my choosing once we return to London. No refusals."
Hux sighed as they shook hands. "Agreed."
The two men turned back to the crowd. Ren spoke with the constable.
"I have decided not to press charges. The girl, however, must show remorse for her actions and make an effort to turn from her wayward path. As a show of faith and good will, I am offering her an apprenticeship at Caserta Hall. My family and I would be responsible for taking over her care from hence forward."
Plutt eyed the man warily. The girl was one of the best pickpockets in his coterie of thieves, and to lose her would significantly lighten his coffers. "I beg your forgiveness, My Lord. This girl is indispensable to me. She helps me with the other children, she brings food to our table. I rescued her when she was but a starving mudlark in London. I clothed her, fed her, and trained her out of the goodness of my heart for nearly half of her life. I would be under the hatches for all my troubles were she to leave."
Ren's lips tightened at his greediness. "Yes, I can see very well how much she means to you. Perhaps this will cover the costs of your efforts?" He held out a purse, heavy with coin. He opened it slightly, allowing the flash of gold to glint in the sun. Plutt's hands trembled and the girl held her breath. Neither of them had ever seen so much, in one place.
Sarcasm dripped from Ren's voice. "The purse, for your troubles, Plutt. And only if the girl is agreeable."
The girl weighed her options. Although she was angry that they were haggling over her like a Jenny on the auction block, she was smart. If she were to stay with Plutt, she wouldn't be able to hide the curves of her body much longer. Her clothing had started to nip and flare in certain locations, even with her bindings in place. Her womanly form could subject her to the goatish tendencies of both her fellow thieves as well as angered marks. Plutt, cruel and avaricious, had been looking to employ her as a buttock and file for some time, sensing her potential to simultaneously fleece and satiate the pleasures of men.
She was not familiar with the two gentlemen who currently offered her a way out, although the constable appeared to be well-acquainted with the larger male, as were many of the townspeople. The ginger-haired gent also seemed to have a kindness to his countenance, and his green eyes watched her encouragingly.
She took a deep breath. To be freed from Plutt, to have a chance at another life, even at the mercy of a complete stranger, was an opportunity she couldn't refuse.
"I am grateful for your kindness, My Lord. I gladly accept your offer."
With her decision made, Ren opened the strings of his purse, the guineas raining down on the cobbled street, their stamped backs bouncing melodically against one another as Plutt fell to the ground, desperate to collect the rolling coins.
The girl stared, mouth agape, wondering how she could have missed such a prize.
Kylo turned, smirking as he read her thoughts and whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her cheek.
"You chose the wrong pocket."
She clenched her fists by her sides. The man was infuriating.
He watched the flash of temper flit across her face and almost laughed. He suddenly realized he had no idea how to address her.
"I am Lord Ren, Earl of Alderaan, and this is Lord Hux, 3rd Earl of Corellia. And your name?"
She swallowed hard as she watched him, his dark eyes staring at her intently as he awaited her answer. She was suddenly self-conscious of her dirty and disheveled state and pulled her jacket around her defensively as if to protect herself from his gaze. She wondered briefly if she should have stayed with Plutt instead as she squeaked out her answer, her throat suddenly dry.
"Rey Kenobi, My Lord."
