Both women sat on the balcony of her study. Her study was slightly modified to be more feminine and less business professional. Lady Laughleft was wearing an off-shoulder gown with gloves. She wore only two colors: black and gold. The gold was not flashy bright or blaringly loud. It was a muted version of the expensive color. In addition, it was shown sparingly as little intricate designs that only outlined the dress. She wore a similarly patterned hat in her hair. She was very much subtle unlike her other appearances when visiting the galas and events. Lady Midford was wearing a traditional Victorian dress with crinoline. She had a box like neckline and had a vibrant dark blue (almost black) long coat. Her dress was the deepest shade of red it reminded her of blood.
Her dress had to be a power play. Blue was reminded of the Phantomhive heritage she possessed while red had to symbolize the Midford's status of being the queen's first and last line of defense. Both women had piercing green eyes. Laughleft had vibrant emeralds and Midford had striking olives. Currently, they divulged in a tea session after Lady Laughleft gave Lady Midford a tour of the mock town. Afterwards they went up to her study and rested, chatting like any other noblewomen.
"I must digress our current conversation. Although the color scheme is correct for a widow the dress itself is too revealing."
Well, only resting by physical means. Unfortunately, the chat itself was a battle in its own right.
"I wear this dress consistently ever since the departure of my fiancée. This was the first dress he gave me on my coming out ball."
"A lady who is stuck only to the past is a nuisance to the queen."
"The past is to be celebrated as it was then which helped become the now."
"While your point is valid, change is imminent. The future would come regardless of the feelings one would possess."
"But it is with those feelings that one strives to make the future possible. Possibly furthering our knowledge and wealth to more than the upper class."
"If that was so, the hierarchy would fall, thus endangering the queen and many lives in the process. Surely you jest; reforming the entire system of England in a single generation is more of a foolish rule of anarchism."
"It is one of the many options I must be able to see, it would be more foolish to turn a blind eye to a choice quite possible."
"In future endeavors. One, I certainly guarantee, that will not happen in any of our lifetimes."
Lilith conceded to the topic and chose not to answer. Both women stopped their conversation to take a sip of tea before they continued chatting (debating) about the previous topic before Marchioness Midford changed the subject to her dress. They have been talking for a while now, but it was clearly far from a nice chat. It could be compared to a fight between two deadly animals. Which, quite honestly, was not far from the truth.
Lilith knew she was being tested. The entire time they were together it was accusation, question, then observation. Keeping up a farce this complicated grated on her nerves and made her feel completely exhausted. Slipping was bound to happen. She was tired, stressed, and acting as her life depended on it. She knew she couldn't weave a web of lies for her to fall in. She had to speak half-truths to barely convince Lady Midford of her words. Even then, her beliefs and true thoughts resurface like a demon from hell.
Lilith tried to stress that Marquis Laughleft was her husband previous hours ago, but since he died before the noble marriage ceremony, she had to address Marquis Laughleft as her fiancée. The queen might've acknowledge her as the wife of the late Lord Laughleft, but not every noble held the same sentiment. She is not a widow if she never married in the noble courts, engagement be damned or the "unofficial" commoner wedding never counted. However, that was a story for another day.
Francis Midford blatantly stared at her green-eyed counterpart. She deemed Lilith's chosen attire an extravagant assemble, but the way it was fitted on the 18 years young woman made her seem so innocent. It was disturbing. Francis knew when Lilith gets older, she will retain her youth like herself. The fact a black dress with gold detailing could look innocent on a very sought out lady was wrong. Black was commonly a color which represented death, a forestatement of unfortunate events to come. All the while, gold is a noble's color of happy, just expensive. It is still a joyous color with symbolism of wealth, prosperity, and cheer. However, the colors of death and happiness seem to sing a melancholy tune represented by the specific dress the other marchioness wore. She had the contradicting, if not sinister, meaning down to a pat. Francis had to hand it down to Lilith for adding an element of innocence to such a dress, if only because for the nobles that attended her ball couldn't wear those colors and she was of young age. Not to mention, marchioness Laughleft never wore that particular color scheme thereafter.
Francis could hypothesize it was most probably due to her being young and staying inside the manor for so long. She rarely left the Laughleft manor when Marquis Laughleft was alive. She wasn't outside galivanting the streets of London, she wasn't the publics main interest then. Then sometime after her fiancée died, the color she wore was black, due to tradition and respect for the deceased. The public started to look at her, and she was in attention of not only the upper class, but of the middle too. With her pale skin and dark attire, she looked ethereal. A hauntingly beautiful shell. One that loomed and decided to grace the Laughleft manor with the motive to make it seem unattainable or otherworldly. Yes, she caught the attention of anyone and everyone, a move so simple, yet powerful and it worked to her advantage.
Francis Midford took another sip of her tea and observed the woman.
She will admit, with no shame, Lilith Laughleft was a conundrum. A conundrum which bled into her personality. Personality is what nobles of all genders go for when deciphering a person. Personality can tell a person their past, their future, and their destruction. Lilith was a blank piece of paper; a paper seemingly not touched, tainted, or manipulated in any way. A rare sight and a beautiful one at that. However, that only works if people don't know her past. If people bother to look past the artificial standards of beauty, they would see colors; colors not meant for nobility, not meant for her. Lilith Laughleft was a blank piece of paper, but it was far from white or tarnished.
"Excuse me, Lady Laughleft, Madame Midford."
Both women turned to acknowledge the servant before them. It was the Laughleft's manor head butler, Clyde. Madame Midford saw Clyde as man as old as Tanaka, an old and loyal butler in Ciel's manor. Clyde did look a bit younger in comparison to Tanaka. It is possible that she would honestly be fooled since there is only a fine line that distinguish blonde and white as one gets older. She will admit, she favors this servant of the Laughleft household. The servant continued to speak.
"The play will start relatively soon. Shall I make arrangements now or cancel the viewing until a later date?"
It was eerily creepy to Clyde as he saw his mistress and Marchioness Midford move in synchronization by performing the proper etiquette to eating a pastry. If not for hair color and initial status, no doubt the women before him could have been mistaken for siblings with similarities of being the queen's favorite and the number of suitors both had in their lifetime.
Clyde was just a simple servant, but he was a servant that used to be in the grand palace of the Queen. He served the queen for years before the accident happen and he was forced to serve a person of lesser status. He grew to love his new job eventually, however, his time at the palace made him naturally cunning, smart, and adroit. He used the skills he gained from the palace and applied them here in the Laughleft manor. It was certainly a welcoming surprise as he loved to keep his mind sharp as his body tough.
However, the tension between the two Marchioness was a clear glass. He was smart enough to know when to interfere, unfortunately not how; not until recently was he able to practice his social skills he long since forgotten. He dutifully decided to interfere, for the sake of his mistress, by asking if they are willing to continue the plans they devised together earlier this day. If only because that was the best way to divert if not spread the tension in a way not solely concentrated between the two. Blunt was not the Laughleft way, at least not dealing with other nobles, but that is what Clyde knew best. They no doubt will continue this very confusing womanly war, but he proposed a temporary truce until the shots were once again fired. It was Mistress Laughleft that spoke first.
"I would hate for those tickets to go to waste."
"As would I."
"Then we will go out as planned, Clyde if you may."
"Yes. Milady, Madame."
He excused himself from the two marchionesses' and made his way inside the manor. He prayed silently that the truce will last until they arrive at the theatre. The noble war between the women frightened the last 2 coachmen, both who imagined some consequence worse than death. Fortunately, so not to lose face, it was both from Madame Midford's party.
"Excuse me, Sir Clyde?"
He turned around and saw the head maid Collette. She was a young blonde, but she knew how to do her job efficiently.
"Yes?"
"It seems the coachman you ordered to escort Madame Midford and Mistress Laughleft to the theatre seems nauseous."
"Why is that?"
"We have no clue sir. He was fine less than 15 minutes ago, but then when he took the servants pathway to the front, he was suddenly sick."
"By chance, which pathway did he use?"
"Pathway 12."
Usually Clyde is a composed and reasonable man, if not a bit of a perfectionist. However, this entire day with two marchionesses made this far from a usual day and far from a usual noble visit. It was slowly grating on his nerves. He didn't mean to complain, but he had multiple screw-ups this pass month than he did his entire service time before serving the Laughleft manor.
First, his social skills were barely subpar and he was usually the grand standard for the entire household. Two, his mistress (unconsciously) blamed him for the missing letter from Madame Midford. Three, right after the founding of the letter, his mistress suddenly turned unwell that he fretted with worry so opaque that he didn't leave his mistress side for that entire day (it reminded him of the first few days when he just entered the manor and oversaw the care of the future Mrs. Laughleft). Four, as soon as the day of the meeting comes, not two hours in when Madame Midford arrived, half of the manor was walking on eggshells around the two, and one fourth proclaimed sick. Veterans, like he and older members, started to take up the same responsibilities when they first came to the manor on top of the duties they normally do since they climbed up the ranks.
This leads up to the fifth problem which was inevitable. The closing of several servant routes.
Clyde didn't know whether to frown or strangle himself. Servant pathway 12, while the most efficient pathway to set up the carriage, passed underneath their mistress's balcony. The pathway lead from the servant quarters to the garden, to the stable, to the carriage vehicles, then pass by the wash station, to the front. However, if a servant was to take pathway 12 at this moment, they would get a healthy dose of what is to come for the next 2-hour trip, to and back.
He has only two possible outcomes: Less efficiency or less help.
"Excuse the man for now. Get coachman Steele and tell him to take Pathway 18."
"Yes, sir Clyde."
She bowed before she was sent to retrieve coachman Steele. Clyde had a wife, a child too, but never in his years of marriage and serving mostly women did he ever understand the necessity of a cat fight between women. He was able to endure those fights all those years ago. It seemed like his wife's cat fights with other women proved to beneficial especially since today was trying his patience to an unhealthy degree. He knew women couldn't fight like men do (i.e. dueling), but women fight using their mind. Both ways of fighting had their advantages and disadvantages. However, psychological fighting was equally as tiresome to be part of it as it was to be in the presence of one; let the heavens forbid a man to be the cause of one. He respected women, he truly did. At least above average than the typical English male. However, it was times like these that made him question why.
"Sir Clyde! Some of the gardeners are having fainting spells." A random staff member shouted while running toward him.
"Are they the gardeners assigned to sector 6, around our mistress balcony?"
"Yes, how did you know?"
Clyde couldn't help but sigh and rub the ever-growing wrinkles around his forehead. It startled the other butler before him.
It wouldn't be impudent of him if he requested a higher pay from his mistress correct?
Years ago.
Queen Victoria was sitting inside her home sipping tea quietly. Everything has been silent when her husband died, at least from her perspective. She was waiting for the new marquis to show face. Lawrence Laughleft. He was a mere boy not yet an adult, but his parents were taken from him far too young. He was now 15 years of age; he had to grow up as an adult with the title of boy. It wasn't unexpected, woefully, but his parents had a child too late for normal standards. The poor couple couldn't conceive for a while, but they were adamant on creating at least a sole heir. They got their wish, but for the price of health. She knew the boy got the short hand of the stick; she was reminded of his parents' ill heath, bountiful duties, and lack of connection with any remaining kin.
Yes, the Laughleft family was full of workaholics and unfortunate luck. The only remarkable aspects of theirs was loyalty, dependability, and work ethic. All other traits, just furthered their growing health concerns.
She didn't even glance up when the door to the room she was in opened. Steps echoed and grew closer until they were within sight. She acknowledged the man's bow before taking his seat. She sipped once more before setting the cup down; she gave all her attention to the new marquis before her.
"My queen."
"Yes, boy. Tell me, how are you faring?"
They sat, they chat, and they discussed. Thankfully, she did not need to go over his duties as a marquis in the noble courts, nor does she need to explain the role his father gave him unceremoniously. He was educated enough on both aspects, but clearly, he was uncomfortable about the whole affair. The reason of his visit wasn't only for Queen Victoria to judge her new marquis, but to also see where the economy of England would go. The Laughleft family, although still somewhat green in the history of the noble court in England, oversaw her economy. It wasn't much, only 15-20% but it was a considerable amount that belonged to one family. It didn't include the potential allies or otherwise that were associated with the family.
"If I may, I would like to discuss potential marriages"
Although she was wished to check on Marquis Laughleft heavily due to the sake of England, she was not the one to request his presence. He requested to see her. A very reasonable move, but one clearly unscripted and unplanned. She glanced at the boy, openly sizing him up.
"I need not remind you of the laws of England."
"It is with my knowledge of your laws that I bring the topic up. Please, my queen, hear what I have to say."
Queen Victoria stopped her incessant drinking. She properly looked at the boy and saw nothing, but a determined look in his eye. It would be so easy to deny him of his request to show power and remind him of his place. However, she is not known as a ruthless ruler to her subjects, she is favored, envied, and loved. To this specific person before her, she can be anyone to him; he was impressionable, she could control all his actions, from what he eats for breakfast to what words to say to her opponents outside her sphere of influence. Victoria can control him like a puppet and all she had to do was let him speak his mind to her. Then everything could and would fall into place.
"Well then, speak your mind. I will lend an ear."
Fortunately for the new marquis, Victoria was not one to control the very habits of her subjects. She did not care for what her dignitaries indulged in outside of their main purpose. She could care less if they are an alcoholic, an abuser, or a rapist, as long as it didn't go public, or threaten her rule in anyway. Those foolish who expose her, threaten her, or inane enough to get caught, well she has a guard dog for a reason; and Vincent was doing a splendid job with his duties.
"I wish to pursue a woman a year prior to legal age."
How interesting. Legal age to pursue for a man is age 21, to the very least the woman he is pursuing, must be of age 13. However, it isn't strange for a man near adulthood to start fantasizing about women before that. Most who do turn of legal age tend to dilly dally before committing. It is not uncommon, especially for men who did not have an arranged marriage. Even then they would not get married immediately after the marriageable age.
"Speak clearly, do not beat around the bush if I had already offered you my time."
Lawrence Laughleft hesitated. Victoria saw clearly. This could mean one of two things: he is nervous or he knows the answer he will speak will not be favorable to her. She could see the gears in the young boy's mind turn violently for an acceptable answer.
"I want to be engaged to a woman at age 20."
"What is your plan?"
"To be married at age 21, as soon as I am legal."
His request was particular. The motive was strange. Unfortunately for him, Victoria was no fool. She saw his carefully (and hesitant) crafted response. This encounter was anything, but subtle, and his body betrayed him. He was hiding something, and it was against her nature not to know. She was cautious, paranoid, and irritated. She will not let anything affect her status and image, not even her marquis.
"I will not repeat my words."
"My parents were late; my fortune is due to my predecessors. They both have suffered health concerns from my existence. They tried for years, but no results. I will not fool myself thinking I do not have such a luck like them. It is prominent in my family line. I am merely bettering my chances."
Her anger dissipated, if only a tad. Yes, his family was an unfortunate one. Primary and extended seem to have trouble procreating. There tend to be issues in the Laughleft lineage which makes them hard to breed. This issue stems even before her reign and into her mothers and possibly farther back. It would be of no importance if said event didn't threaten the balance in the upper echelon because there was no heir to the name. A distribution of powers must be made, but with the fluctuating numbers of people rising and falling out of nobility, it was harder to establish a solid back up plan.
"Pray, tell. Who has caught your eye."
"She is of lower class."
"Of course, most are. "
"She is of working class."
It was one thing to ask of her to grant the possibility of him pursing marriage options a year prior to law, but to marry a woman, or currently a girl who is painstakingly far from his class was unheard of. It was fine if middle or new nobility married someone of lower class, they were within the same levels, so to speak. Noble men typically marry higher to gain more power and wealth. Their main purpose is to make sure the woman they are married to can keep all their selfish whims. Noble women are heavily discouraged to marry a man who cannot provide for her.
She considered Lawrence's status as a Marquis/Marquess. Besides the royal family, he can't climb higher than his position. It was expected of him to marry someone of lower status, maybe two or three levels below himself. However, he wished to pursue a girl? A girl with no social standing? No connections? No benefits?
This girl could impair his judgement. This girl can make a fool of him, and thus make a fool of her. He would have to teach this girl the rules of nobility, make her conform to the will of the upper class. And as far as she was concerned, most working-class women were brash, uncouth, and strong headed. Those type of women don't conform easily, they are the type to start a civil war or a revolution. She did not need that type of woman in the courts. It would embarrass her, embarrass him, and would play unfavorably to her.
"You are aware of what you are asking me, correct?"
She eyed the boy, questioning heavily, and challenging him to stand his ground. She saw him get up from his seat and bow at waist level. He repeated what he said. He assured her that the woman—no girl, was different, that she will bring England to heights that never before seem possible. He started sugar coating his words, making her hear the empty promises in his words, trying desperately hard to convince her and possibly himself. He never did take back his words. Victoria saw a certain type of determination, she once saw in the boy's late father, when he promised her a stable and flourishing economy. She saw a certain finesse which made her fears and irrationality blow away with the wind, like her husband. She had to give it to the boy to give her a glimmer of hope that everything would be okay. That the world he described is easily attainable through hard work.
"I shall give, if only this once."
He stopped his rant. He stood straight before lifting his hand to his heart and clutched his chest.
"Thank you, my queen."
His words seemed so sincere. It was possibly due to his remaining innocence. Innocence that will be crushed in the few years left to come.
"Be sure you don't disappoint. I will rescind my answer if you perform unsatisfactory."
"Yes, my queen."
"You are dismissed."
She turned her head and stared out the window. She could hear the door shut behind him. She stared down from her perch and saw her city. Bustling crowds, running children, and couples everywhere. She saw the sun, something that was becoming more of a rare sight as factories popped up like daisies. They covered the sky with thin layer of gray. She could just watch the day go by for the rest of the day. But she is queen, and she has many other things to deal with. She called a maid and asked her to go get Ash.
She waited for some time. She people watched from the window in the room. Everyone was animated in some shape or form. The world moved forward no matter if a single person was stuck, frozen in time. This kingdom was flourishing, something she wished to show the fruits of her husband's labor.
The door was knocked upon and she let a customary come in.
"You are not Ash."
The door opened and a man with unkempt hair appeared before her. She recognized the shades he wore as it appeared that he never took them off. He was one of the few aides she kept at her side.
"No ma'am, Ash was busy with your other requests, I came to see if I could be of assistance."
She hummed. It was no surprise that Ash would be busy, she tends to overwork her aides. Besides a selected few, the butlers and maids in her palace did nothing, but menial work. Her aides are much more important than mere pawns. She valued them. Well, as much as she can for tools. No matter her thoughts, she had a job to do.
"Find the girl who caught Lawrence's eye."
"As you wish."
The butler bowed, he was immediately going to search for this girl, but then he saw the queen slowly break into silent tears. He knew the queen well, and she was the only person he can ever yield to. It would be a matter of time before she broke into sobs. Carefully he went closer to the queen, he made sure she was aware of his presence by making his footsteps louder than average. He directed Queen Victoria to the seat she was most likely occupying and fixed up another cup of tea.
Queen Victoria couldn't help it, but a stream of tears ran down her face. This happened in the most random of chances. It may be due to her having a soft heart at the prospective of romance, especially for the boy, but whenever she thought about her husband, her heart seems to emphasize the hole in her heart. They say time heals all wounds, but this one seemed not to heal, but to grow. She would, at the worst times, be sentimental of the days when there was two, and not one. She loved her husband she really did.
Victoria eased her breath as a cup of tea was gently placed in her hands. She closed her eyes and took a long intake of the scent of honey. She needed to clear her mind. The day was not over. Once she opened her eyes, she saw a small puppet of her husband in front of her. A small smile cracked her calm and regal exterior. This was one of the many reasons why, he became one of her personal aides.
A/N: So fans of the series... who did I just cameo right now? This should be an easy answer, but quite honestly I totally forgot about this character and decided to put 'em in last minute.
Anyway I'm not sure if I can call this fic a slow-burn, but it definitely did take a while for it to reach plot. Lilith is probably going to reach plot sometime soon give or take a chapter or two, but I am curious, should I just prolong the daily life of Lilith and the manor? Not sure how I could do it, but it seems somewhat fun to do.
I do want to hit plot though because I feel like 11ish chapter of "building" seems good to me, but I could be wrong. So I ask you, should I develop Lilith and other characters more before hitting plot, or develop Lilith's relationship with other characters before hitting plot? I would still develop her as the story progresses, but as the audience do you like how Lilith is right now to jump into plot?
Just curious to be honest. Anyway OCs are mine, anime/manga isn't. No beta. Grammar, spelling, and structure of sentences are most likely prominent. Will most likely go on a proof read spree when I hit 15 or 20 chapters? Also am doing a combination of both anime and manga so... this time line could also be somewhat skewed.
