"I don't know how you're so calm about this. Lord Bradley is old enough to be your father. He might actually be older than your father."
"Rebeccaaa-" Riza groaned, collapsing on her bed. "Please don't make this worse. Besides, it's nothing more than an introduction. He simply wishes to speak to me."
"That's not all he's going to want to do once-"
"Rebecca! Not. Helping."
"Fine," Rebecca moved to sit beside Riza on the bed. "I just dislike seeing you in such a situation."
"I don't like it either." Riza sat up. "But what choice do I have, Rebecca? I'm not you. I don't have three older sisters to secure a future for my family. If my father wishes for me to meet Lord Bradley, then I must."
The two women sat in silence for a few moments, deep in thought.
Rebecca broke the tension. "Well now, there's no point dwelling on the unavoidable. We should get ready. Your father will want to leave on time." She stood up and headed to vanity on the other end of the room, pulling Riza with her. She sat Riza down on the vanity's bench and unclipped her friend's long, blonde hair. She brushed it free of all tangles and then began to pin her hair up into a more elegant, evening fashion.
"Maybe he won't like me," Riza said softly. She closed her eyes and leaned into Rebecca's touch. "He's one of the richest men in Amestris. Every man with an eligible daughter will be interested in replacing his wife."
"Do I need to remind you that you look just like your mother?" Rebecca said through a mouthful of hair pins.
Riza could feel Rebecca's nimble fingers working through her hair. "You're doing it again."
"How? It's not my fault Bradley courted your mother only for her elope with your father. I don't see how that could make Bradley's inquiring of you creepy at all." Rebecca's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I mean- what if he tries to call you by her name. What if he's into that?"
"Stop it!" Riza yelled, admittedly half amused. "You're making this creepy."
"It is creepy," Rebecca laughed. She patted the top of Riza's hair. "All done. A hairstyle fit for a lady of status."
"Thanks, Becca," Riza stood up to switch Rebecca spots. "Hand me the brush?"
"Here," Rebecca gave her the brush and tilted her head back. "What am I going to do if you do go and get married to Bradley? He lives in Central."
"You can always visit."
"Ow! Careful. The curls tangle easily," Rebecca grimaced.
"Sorry!" Riza lightened the pressure on her brush. "Better?"
"Yes, thank you," Rebecca said. "But seriously Riza, if you move to Central who am I going to complain to about my overwhelming lack of rich suitors?"
"You're welcome to trade me," Riza gave Rebecca a mischievous smile as she twisted Rebecca's long brown hair into an intricate bun. "Seriously. Trade me."
"If Bradley wasn't so old... OW! What was that for!" Rebecca jerked out of Riza's grasp.
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Riza dryly.
"If I stop making fun of you, will you stop pulling my hair straight out of my skull?"
"I think that can be arranged. I'm finished anyway. Just hand me the jeweled pin you brought. It's laying on the vanity. There you go. All set."
"You want to know what would be the worst part of you moving away?" Rebecca asked.
"If I move away."
"Okay if you move away. I'll have to get ready for these events with my sisters. All three of them. So please do your best to come across as appalling tonight."
"Oh, don't worry. I will."
/-/-/
Riza despised formal events. They were much too pompous for her liking and the company much too fake. It had been easier to worm her way out of them when she was younger, but now that she was twenty years old and of marrying age, there was no getting out of these events. It was the only time her father gave her any real attention as he displayed her to society like a prized horse. Still, Riza was a proper woman with a formal boarding school education. She knew how to put on a fake smile and play the evening's game, no matter how much she despised it.
Their carriage pulled up to the Grumman Estate just after eight. Rebecca turned to thank Berthold for allowing her to get dressed with Riza and then promptly left to find her family, leaving Riza at the mercy of her father.
"You look lovely tonight, Riza," he said as he offered her his arm. "Blue is your color."
"Thank you, father," she answered in the guarded tone she had perfected over the years.
Gripping her father's arm, they walked up the lawn to the main house. Grumman Manor was grand- far grander than the Hawkeye Estate. Two large, elegant staircases dominated the entrance way. To the left, twin french doors lead into the great room where the party was already in full effect, with men and women mingling about. Music and the murmurs of partygoers filled the air.
"My darling!" A voice called out from across the room.
Riza held back a groan and turned to find her grandfather walking towards her with open arms. "Hello, grandfather," she said politely before being engulfed in a hug she did not ask for.
"My dear, you are looking more and more like your mother with every passing year," Grumman smiled at Riza as he inspected her outfit for the evening. "Yes, she would be very proud." He then turned to her father and nodded in acknowledgement, all affection leaving his voice. "Berthold."
"General," he answered, his dislike clear.
"Lord Bradley has yet to arrive," Grumman said. "I will make sure to inform you when he does." He turned to Riza and smiled softly. "Enjoy the party my dear. I'm afraid I must say hello to my other guests, but please do make yourself at home."
Still holding onto her father's arm, Riza followed him into the great room. Tables line the parameter of the dance floor and the serving staff weave through the mingling crowd offering endless libations. In one corner of the room is a small band, playing a lively tune.
Riza spots Rebecca standing in the corner talking to a few other women their age. "I see Rebecca. May I go talk to her for a bit, father?"
"Yes, Riza," Berthold says. "But please stay close. I don't want to track you down when Lord Bradley arrives."
"I will," Riza said, letting go of his arm. She begins to head towards Rebecca when one of the servants stops her.
"Would you like a glass of wine m'lady? Or champagne?"
Riza is normally not a drinker, but the dread from this evening has been unrelenting. "Yes, please." She grabs one of the red wine glasses from the serving tray and smiles at the servant before walking away and quickly downing half the glass.
"Hey, Riza!"
"Hi ladies," Riza said. "It's nice to see you, Winry. I'm surprised your grandmother allowed you to come."
To her left, Winry grinned enthusiastically. "We came to a decision a few days ago. Now that I'm finally fifteen, she can't expect me to stay home all the time."
"Fifteen? Don't say that again you are going to make me feel old," Rebecca's older sister, Lucy moaned. "Here I am, almost twenty-three and still unmarried."
"Twenty-three is not old," Riza offered.
"Oh hush, Mrs. Bradley," Lucy said. "We don't all have wealthy, successful men lining out the door."
"No one is lining up for me."
"So it's true?" Winry asked, turning to Riza. "He really did come all the way from Central to meet you tonight?"
Riza chose to take a gulp of her wine instead of answer.
"Yes it's true," Rebecca supplied on her behalf. "That man had a thing for Riza's mother and once he sees how much you look like her-"
"Mrs. King Bradley," Winry said with a sigh. "You'll be one of the most important women in society."
"Winry, don't be so naive. He's old enough to be your grandfather. He shouldn't have any interest in Riza to begin with," Lucy said.
"And yet here I am," Riza frowned.
"Let's talk about something happy then," Rebecca said, changing the subject. "Rumor has it Grumman made all his hot-shot military officers attend tonight. With the war over, maybe they are looking for a little fun."
"What are you going to do, Becca, talk their ear off?"
"Oh shut up, Lucy. I'm just saying that a handsome man in a uniform with a high enough rank can ask me for a dance any day."
Riza rolled her eyes. Of course Rebecca would be fixated on the young officers scattered about the room. They were decorated war heros and, more importantly, they were not tied to the stuffinest of high society. Rebecca could have her fun, Riza rationed as she buried any budding signs of envy, because Rebecca was the fourth daughter while Riza was the first and only.
"I don't know if I would want to be a soldier's wife," Winry said. "I'm not sure how well I would do sitting around waiting for them to return."
"Oh Winry," Lucy said softly. "You're still so young. Maybe by the time you're of marrying age this country will no longer be at war."
"Speaking of men, however, has anyone caught your eye yet, Winry?" Rebecca asked playfully. "It is your first real party after all."
"No!" The younger girl said a little too quickly to be believable. "I mean- not really."
"It's okay, Winry," Lucy said gently. "That's the whole point of these events. So- who is it?"
Before Winry could stammer her reply, Riza heard her name being called out from behind her. She turned around to find her grandfather and father walking towards her.
"Riza, darling, do you mine joining us for a while?"
"Of course, father," Riza answered with a fake smile. She quickly finished the rest of her wine and handed the empty glass to Rebecca. "If I don't see you later, have a great rest of your night ladies."
The group offered Riza sympathetic smiles as she turned and began to follow her grandfather and father, her heart pounding. She could feel her mouth going dry and her palms growing clammy.
"Lord Bradley just arrived," Berthold said smugly when Riza had reached his side. "He's waiting in your grandfather's study. He prefers to meet you without all these prying eyes."
"You mean- alone?" Riza struggled to contain the nervousness in her voice.
"Oh no, my dear," answered Grumman. "That would be far too improper for a single woman like yourself to be in alone with a man."
Riza could not decide if it was for better or worse that her father and grandfather would be present. They were two people who deeply disliked each other and were only cooperating because they could mutually benefit from any marriage she entered. They were two vipers leading her to the snake pit.
They reached the door to Grumman's private study and Riza continued to follow her guardians. The study was grand, with bookshelves lining the walls and a large, floor-to-ceiling window looking out over the garden. Her grandfather's collection of liquor was prominently on display atop a golden bar cart and the leather furniture smelled new. The large fireplace crackled in the background. To Riza's surprise, his mahogany desk sat empty. Instead, the person of interest stood quietly to the left side of the window, sipping bourbon out of a crystal glass. Clearly, Grumman had met with Bradley before fetching Riza. Shivers ran down Riza's spine at the idea of what they possibly could have discussed.
"Lord Bradley," Grumman spoke, breaking Riza's train of thought. "May I introduce my granddaughter, Lady Riza Hawkeye."
Bradley turned to face Riza and she allowed herself to study him. He was a man in his late fifties- or perhaps early sixties- with graying hair and smile lines defining his face. Despite his age, he stood proud and tall, with broad shoulders and a build that suggested he still took much care to keep himself physically fit. He was dressed similar to Grumman, in his old military uniform. Though Bradley was no longer on active duty, Riza knew he still kept strong ties with the military as a consultant.
"Awe Lady Hawkeye," Bradley smiled. "The pleasure is all mine."
Riza held out her hand and grew nauseous when Bradley kissed it. "Sir."
"Your daughter is lovely, Berthold. She absolutely takes after her mother."
Growing up in proper society had prepared Riza to hide her emotions and fake her smile with the best of them. She stood there, grinning shyly. To Bradley, she was a timid young woman, hesitant to meet her first potential suitor. Deep inside, hidden behind her thickest walls, Riza was disgusted at the idea that this man- who was certainly older than her father- was interested in such a young wife.
"Please, why don't we sit," Grumman motioned to the unoccupied couch. "Would you like a drink, Berthold?"
"Yes, please."
The group took a seat, with Riza seated between her grandfather and father. Bradley sat down on a large armchair directly across Riza, his gaze never leaving her figure.
"So your father tells me that you are quite the scholar," Bradley offers as an icebreaker.
"Yes sir," Riza answers. "Father has blessed me with a proper education and it would be a lie to say I didn't enjoy it."
"Which finishing school did you attend?"
"The Amerstrian Academy for Ladies out in Central, sir. I graduated late last summer."
"Last summer? You would have thought that a woman of your status and grace would have been long married by now."
Riza averted her gaze, unable to watch Bradley objectify her any longer.
"We are not in a rush to arrange my daughter's marriage," Berthold spoke, alleviating Riza from, having to come up with a response. "We want to ensure that the agreement will be most beneficial for all parties."
Oh great, thought Riza. Here she was, dressed up like a doll, being shown off to a man thirty years her senior, and all her father and grandfather were concerned about was how they would benefit from her marriage.
Bradley's attention turned to Grumman and Berthold. He began to ask the two men about their expectations, Riza's dowry and, should he find her suitable, when would be the earliest they would be prepared to marry her.
"It's almost winter," Grumman supplied. "We could have Riza walking down the aisle by late spring, but no sooner. After all, a union of the two families would be the event of the decade and we wouldn't want anyone important to miss it due to bad weather."
"But of course," Bradley agreed as he took a sip of his drink. He set the drink down on the small glass coffee table separating the parties. "Lord Berthold, General Grumman, if I may be frank, Riza's reputation precedes her. I spoke with several of the governesses from her boarding school and they agreed that she is of sharp mind, clever wit and holds herself with utmost grace. My own eyes can indeed confirm that she exceeds these expectations. Unfortunately, I have business in the South that must be intended to immediately. Arranging my schedule to even be here tonight should be a testament to how serious I am regarding marrying your daughter. I plan to return to Eastern in a month's time. I will spend the winter at my Eastern residence so we can become better acquainted and, in due time, work out the more intimate details of our continued relationship."
Riza's heart sank at these words, but she pushed her feelings aside and forced her face to remain the neutral, soft smile she had held this entire conversation.
"Of course sir," Berthold responded, the glee obvious in his voice.
"Now, if I may," Grumman said. "I think we should rejoin the party. You've traveled a long way and a few bites of food would do you well, Bradley. I'm sure once you've made your rounds amongst the guests, Riza will be more than happy to entertain you for a dance."
"We really should be getting back." Bradley stood up and looked at his pocket watch. "I shouldn't keep Armstrong's waiting too long. Riza, my dear, it was lovely to meet you. I will find you later tonight after the dancing has begun."
Riza offers Lord Bradley her hand again and he kisses it, but this time his lips linger on her skin. Her stomach twists and she barely manages to hide her discomfort. "I look forward to it, Lord Bradley."
The four exit the room and head back into the main hall where her male companions are quickly called upon by other guests, leaving Riza free to walk away. Once she is certain she is out of their site, the full range of her emotions flood her. He was interested in making her his wife as soon as this spring. Her days of freedom were numbers. While she and her father did not have the most loving relationship, he allowed Riza to keep to herself so long as she behaved when expected. As Bradley's wife, she would be doomed to head the household and bear his children. She did not know which responsibility was worse.
"I can't breathe," Riza gasped as panic raced through her veins. This was all happening too fast. It had only been yesterday that her father had mentioned that Bradley held any interest in her and now she was months away from being his bride. Her breath quickened and she began to feel overwhelmingly dizzy. She suddenly felt claustrophobic. She needed fresh air. She needed to be by herself.
Riza headed out one of the doors she knew led to her grandfather's balcony. Once outside, she wandered a bit until she was certain that no one from the party would dare venture this far. She felt herself collapse against the wall and tried to catch her breath, her hands cradling her face. Her dress would be wrinkled, and potentially dirty, but Riza found she did not care.
She felt like screaming and crying, perhaps all at once. She closed eyes and tried to force herself to calm down.
"Ma'am, are you alright?"
Riza was torn out of her panic and began to stand up, determined to brush off her distress and face the intruder of her private moment.
"Why yes I'm fi-" the words caught in her mouth before she froze as the man's face came fully into view.
"Oh, Lady Hawkeye, my apologies, I did not recognize you. If I may say, you're all grown up." The man said as he offered her a lopsided smile.
"It's nice to see you as well, Mister Mustang."