AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am looking for a beta for this story. Since it's summer, I hope to finish the story within the next month and a beta would help greatly. Please contact me, even through the reviews here at ff.net, if you can help. Thanks.
Days passed and found the household on the front lawn, waving goodbye to the former duke and duchess. Packing had been difficult. Though Emily and Richard planned to purchase appropriate clothing and items in Bermuda, they wished to also have cherished mementos and heirlooms. Thus the attics and warehouses had been opened, aired, dusted, and rummaged through. The task passed quickly as every opened trunks brought along a new story. The family had found long-since-seen albums, letters, even a delicate golden ball.
"It belonged to my mother, Trixie," Richard told his granddaughter before handing her the ball.
"Lorelai the first," Rory responded dutifully while trying to figure out what to do with the trinket. It was perfectly round and shone like a mirror, she speculated that it was dwarfs' crafting. But what to do with a golden ball? It was quite heavy, being solid gold, so she imagined one could not play catch or throw with it. She shifted the ball from hand to hand in puzzlement.
"Yes. My mother was a brilliant woman. Absolutely brilliant."
"A brilliant harridan," her grandmother muttered a shade too loudly from across the room.
"Mine, too," Lorelai replied brightly.
Richard frowned and Emily had the grace to blush.
Just then, the door opened sending a stack of trunks teetering loudly to the floor. Other stacks followed like dominoes. In the outside hall, Luke stood sheepishly, a tray of food in one hand and a carafe in the other.
The duke of Gilmore stood limply, embarrassed. "I brought lunch," he said unnecessarily.
Silence reigned until Lorelai raced forward, asking, "Is that cheese?"
Sound returned as the room whirled into activity once more. Emily had laid down the jewelry box she'd been searching through to ask Luke if that was cold lamb and mint jelly she spied.
"Yes," Luke replied and the family knew he had brought it because it was one of her favorites.
Then Richard turned to Rory and they grinned madcap at each other before he continued, "My mother was brilliant."
And in that moment, Rory forgot about the golden ball and basked in the warmth of her family.
It was that memory she cherished whenever she became lonesome for her grandparents. Staid and distinguished, they were in sharp contrast to her parents' balance of quarrel and tenderness. Yet both had provided her with a strong conviction in love and the desire to have that some kind of relationship with someone of her own.
Unfortunately, her family did not provide any useful examples there. Emily and Richard had hit it off at a ball but mother and father didn't throw balls and, quite honestly, she'd curled passed the night in the library at the one ball she had been gone to last year. Her mouth curled up in a smile that had been a nice chair. A very nice chair to have made her forget the frippery mess of a gown she'd let her grandmother choose. Rory doubted she could have managed a waltz in it, anyhow.
Her parents, as the world knew, had grown up together in the castle. Many considered a perfectly romantic story and Rory'd heard, to her father's everlasting chagrin, some bard had made it into a song. Though not as wild as her mother had been, Rory did have friends among the castle children, but she'd never had a special fancy for any of them nor felt regret when they paired off.
Having no favorites, Rory could not offer even a cursory protest when her grandparents had reminded her of the impending birthday. It was her duty to marry and, in any case, she could think of no alternate way to find a husband. Never a dreamy romantic, she agreed with the practicality of the tradition, yet some small part of her refused to resign itself to such expediency. She felt herself drawn to the tales of her childhood, quests dared to win the hand of true love...
She was pulled from the budding daydream by the sound of footsteps behind her. Shutting her book closed, Rory turned to find a sulky Lorelai.
"It's a great day, and I'm bored," her mother whined. "Come down to the village with me."
"I told father I would sit through the open court with him," she replied, referring to the bimonthly day when any citizen under their rule could speak to the duke about his concerns.
Lorelai jiggled the purse at her belt in response. "He already let me rob the treasury. He says to buy yourself something shiny."
Rory thought about it, she'd been looking forward to handling duchy business with her father. "How about we come back early so I can see the last part of the court?"
"Agreed," her mother said and they set out for the village that lay at the bottom of their castle's hillock.
Stars Hollow was named for the very feature that gave Lorelai and Rory away. Though Rory styled her hair to cover the silver seven-tined star on her brow, people still bowed and curtsied as they made their way towards the square.
She knew it was more out of habit than anything. Certainly the townspeople respected her family but close proximity to her grandfather's self-effacing ways, his wife and daughter's antics (both), and her even more self-effacing father had taken all the stiff formality out of the bows.
Her mother nudged her towards the cloth booth, cooing over a measure of creamy damask.
"May I show you some dress silks," the merchant asked Rory when her mothers' bargaining was done. He was already pulling down bolts of cloth. He held out one length for her to touch, "It's very fine, yes? I have a man get it for me from over the mountain. The quality is incomparable. At a moment's notice, I could get you the most brilliant white figured with roses, it will look as if the moonlight is shining from you! Nay, the starlight!" He leaned closer to confide, "And I know a tailor whose hands are magical. 'Tis whispered she learned her art in far off Chin, across the ocean. She could fashion a gown of great beauty in time for your joyous occasion. Only say the word."
"Pardon me," Rory said gracelessly.
"Your wedding, milady," he smiled kindly. "I have a son-"
"Excuse me," this time it was Lorelai who interrupted. Her sharp look softened into a polite, but small, smile. "We have not yet made a formal announcement."
Blushing, the merchant reached into his booth for a flier:
TRY YOUR LUCK!
Our lady Lorelai,
daughter of Luke and Lorelai,
our next duchess has reached
the age of marriage.
Could you be the man
she is waiting for?
For more details, contact Taylor.
Printed with the approval
Stars Hollow Council.
Rory gasped and reddened in mortification. Dazed, she allowed her mother to guide her out of the square towards the municipal halls.