A/N: Minimal Whouffaldi, but it has a bit of general family antics, as well as the Blackpoole relatives for all you comedic relief needs.
Rough ages are as follows: David at 66, Johan at 65, Linda at 58, Clara at 46, Lena at 15, Astra/Tara at 13, Sterling at 9, Maglina/Oriana at 7, and Seren at 2.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Blackpudlian Holiday
It was a soggy day as a fine carriage came trotting into Blackpoole, heading right to the large mansion where the viscount presided over the city's affairs. When it rolled up to the door, David Oswald, Viscount Blackpoole, stepped into the entrance to greet his guests without getting rained on, except a few of them had other plans in mind.
"Starlets! Get back here!" the Marquis demanded as small children piled out of the carriage and into the puddles. Tara was no help and tried tossing Seren in a particular mud pile, only to be rescued by their father. Lena and Astra quickly went from the carriage to their grandfather, each giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek as they entered the mansion.
"How are you doing, Grandpapa?" Lena asked.
"Well enough," he nodded. The Viscount took in the sight of his eldest two granddaughters, fighting tears welling in his eyes. "Look at the two of you—so grown up already. You are going to be such graceful and capable ladies one of these days… sooner rather than later."
"They're pretty much there now, Grandpapa," Tara grinned. The Viscount glanced over and saw that the puddle-jumping had been quelled, but not before it took its toll. Tara was standing on the steps with Maglina under one arm and Oriana under the other, while Seren sat perched upon the Marquis's shoulders, and Sterling was huddled under his father's cape; all the children were covered from head to toe in mud. The Marquis himself appeared to be at his wits' end, likely the result of all the time crammed in the carriage with his children.
"Ah, there's the rest of you," the Viscount beamed. He greeted each of his grandchildren and Oriana with a kiss before having them go upstairs to change into dry clothes. Once it was him and his son-in-law, he finally was able to let out a snicker. "They're still a handful, aren't they?"
"Clara told me we could have as many as fifteen once—I couldn't handle fifteen of them," the Marquis shuddered.
"Speaking of my daughter, where is she?"
"There was a last-minute call from the front—she should be here in a few days or so. I insisted I go, since it's you we're visiting, but…"
"…not our Clara; when she can be of use, off she goes," the Viscount chuckled. He looked at the veritable mess that was his daughter's husband and gave him a pat on the back. "Go ahead and get into something not road-worn and I'll be in the lounge."
"Thanks," he replied.
The Viscount retreated to his favorite room in the entire house, where there was a warm fire surrounded by comfortable chairs, and bookcases and cupboards lined the walls where they weren't covered in art. He went into one of the cupboards to browse his liquor collection. By the time the Marquis joined him he had poured out a drink for them both and was reclined in a chair, comfortably awaiting his guest.
"Thought you'd like a little pick-me-up," the Viscount said, motioning towards the drink sitting on the table between them. "I know it's generally colder up in Kasterborous than here, but it's the winds that will cut down to your bones."
"Well put," the Marquis agreed. He attempted to not down the entire drink in one go, savoring it as the liquid warmth pooled in his belly. Too much at once without dinner in front of him would be a grave mistake and he did not need to explain to his younger children about being drunk. Instead, he thought of something else to occupy their time. "I noticed a distinct lack of Linda around the house."
"She's here, lurking about somewhere," the Viscount frowned. "Every other word out of her mouth has been about how the children are going to ruin things these next couple weeks, so I highly doubt she simply vanished. The day she stops complaining is the day she dies."
"…and knowing Linda, even death won't stop her," the Marquis quipped. The two men shared a laugh before Lena walked in, Seren dutifully trailing behind her, clutching the hem of her dress.
"I sense the two of you are talking about things you shouldn't," the teen teased. She plucked a book from a shelf and sat down next to the fire, flaring out her skirt, and allowed her baby brother to snuggle into her side. When she opened the book, Seren stared intently at the illustrations, allowing her to talk. "How is Blackpoole, Grandpapa? Your last letter said something about locating a cousin that might be able to succeed you."
"Let me put it this way, my darling: I would rather have let the viscounty pass into a stewardship in hopes that someone like your Sir Daniel is created next Viscount Blackpoole," he scowled.
"Ouch, that bad?"
"You don't even know the half of it and I'm doing my grandfatherly duty by sparing you the details." The remaining children then found their way into the lounge, with the younger ones tackling the Viscount into a loving hug, while Astra and Tara made do with a kiss to the cheek.
"Can you read us a story, Grandpapa?" Maglina wondered. "I was telling Ori on the way over that you read some of the best stories! With voices too!"
"Granddad reads me stories, but he's not very good at it," Oriana elaborated.
"He tries though and that's what counts," the Viscount said gently. "Now why don't you three pick out a book for Grandpapa, hmm? We might not get a chance to read after dinner."
With that, the three children's eyes went wide and they rushed over to the shelf where they knew all their favorites were kept. The Viscount moved over to a couch and settled down while the younger children returned with the book they wanted him to read. Even Seren bounced over, nestling himself directly in his grandfather's lap, leaving his eldest sister to browse through their book on her own.
"Papa?" Lena asked quietly, so that the faerie stories were not disturbed.
"Yes, starlet?"
"I do think coming was still a good idea," she said. By now, Astra and Tara had found their own books to curl up with, and the entire family was sitting around in an idyllic sort of peace. Compared to how chaotic it had been inside the carriage, where no one had enough room and everyone was getting restless from the road, things were perfect. The only way they could have been better was if his wife was next to him, holding his hand as they pretended to browse their own books while still listening to the Viscount's storytelling. Things weren't perfect, but they were close.
"The older three I can stretch my limits for, but do all seven children have to be here at the dinner table?" the Viscountess frowned through her wine. One end of the table contained her husband, his son-in-law, and the twins, but the other end had the younger four children being presided over by Lena, who was in full governess mode.
"We all eat at the dinner table together at home, and David thought it would be nice to try here," the Marquis shot back. He did not like the Viscount's wife, never had if truth be told, and frankly looked forward to the day where she stormed off in irritation, not caring how prestigious the marriage was, even if it meant he had to supply the remainder of Blackpoole's recovery money himself. The viscounty was nearly there, after all, and her temperament was more than enough grounds for a rare case of societal divorce. "Did you never dine with your parents as a child?"
"I ate with a nurse or governess until I was of-age," she replied dryly. The Viscountess noticed the lip-smacking coming from the side of her and grimaced at Tara's lack of adherence to general courtesy even commoners were able to accomplish. Tara noticed and grinned over at her father, though shrunk back when she was the disapproval on his face as well.
'I thought we liked irritating the bat,' she projected into his mind.
'Not when I can hear you from all the way over here,' he replied. 'Don't make your mama's arrival worse than it already will be—Linda has plenty to complain to her about and we haven't even been here a day.'
'Oh, yeah.' She closed her mouth and began to chew politely, making the Viscountess, but more importantly her father, at-ease.
"Grandmamma, can you please read us a story after dinner?" Maglina asked. "I bet you could read lovely stories if you tried!"
"I am not your grandmother, nor will I read you a story," the Viscountess responded, using the gentlest tone she could. It was still sharper than Maglina expected, making her crouch back in confusion. Oriana, however, was not done at that.
"…but Grandpapa loves reading us stories all the time," she mentioned. "Grandpapa's been with us almost since we got here, but this is the first time we've seen you. Are you feeling okay?"
"I feel perfectly fine, thank you," the Viscountess muttered. She then turned her attention to her husband. "David, did you hear what she referred to you as?"
"I told her to call me that last time I was in Gallifrey," the Viscount shrugged. He popped some food in his mouth, not caring about propriety while in present company. "She's welcome just as much as Maglina is; I love being Grandpapa."
"Ori's granddad lets us call him Granddad, since we don't have a granddad, so it makes sense that if she doesn't have a grandpapa, that she calls our grandpapa her grandpapa as well," Sterling rationalized.
"Well, that's because Mr. Jones and Grandpapa are both kind men when it comes to children," Lena said, butting in before the Viscountess could make a sound. "We are actually very lucky to have such welcoming people in our lives."
"Quite," the Viscountess muttered. She sipped her wine and huffed grouchily. "I am curious though: is there a shortage of governesses in the north, or do you go without for cost-savings?"
"Mama and Papa have raised us without a governess so that they have a direct hand in our upbringing," Astra explained, doing her best to sound cordial. "We all have had a solid understanding of government since we were Seren's age, and no matter where any of us younger children end up, we will be excellent council for whomever we're with."
"I have claim on Astra and Tara," Lena added. "If you want to poach any of us for the viscounty, your options are becoming limited."
"'Poach'…?" Seren wondered, pushing the veg on his plate around. "Is that like eggs or is that like bad peoples and animals?"
"Like bad people and animals, but with more stealing and less dying," Sterling explained. His baby brother nodded at the information, whether he understand it or not.
"I'm not gonna be stoleded," he decided.
"How reassuring," the Viscountess deadpanned. She knocked back another large gulp of her drink—dealing with the children made such things necessary.
"I have no doubt that your children are going to be forces to be reckoned with," the Viscount told the Marquis. "From Clara's letters, I know they are all coming along rather nicely."
"Papa, when is Mama coming?" Maglina asked. "She said she'd follow soon, but how soon?"
"When she deems the front to be safe enough to leave be for a while," the Marquis said. "Don't fret; she'll be here before you know it."
"Good, because Mama should be here," the girl stated. She took a sprout from her plate and chewed idly. "I hope she's done with helping the soldiers before our visit is over, or that would be sad."
"She'll do her best to make it, don't worry," Lena said.
"Grandmamma, why did you never eat with your parents until you were older?" Oriana wondered, bringing the conversation back around. The Viscountess huffed loudly and threw down her utensils, getting up and storming from the dining room in irritation.
"Grandmamma's parents were much more traditional than you are used to, dear," the Viscount said, without missing a beat. "They are all about prestige and ceremony, when some parents understand that children need not only to be with their family, but that they need to have fun on occasion. I doubt Grandmamma ever had fun in her entire life."
"Oh wow…" Oriana and Maglina marveled. The older girls all attempted to hide their laughter—if the Viscountess heard such talk, she would likely pitch a fit.
"Let's keep that a secret, alright starlets?" the Marquis gently ordered. "That goes for you too, Oriana—if we talk poorly of Lady Linda too freely, it will only cause problems that are easier to avoid than to deal with."
"Yes, Papa," his children chorused, with Oriana using "sir" instead.
"Good; now tell me what your plans are for this visit."
The rain had not let up by the time the Marchioness rode into Blackpoole a few days later. When she had learned of the emergency along the Cyberan border, she sent her husband and children on their way, taking one of the faster horses from the stables to aid the troops. It had been a quick one, with fighting nearly done by the time she arrived, though she made sure to stay until she was confident things were under control again. A guard who already had business in that direction accompanied her on the path the Blackpoole, the two splitting up just beyond the viscounty's border. By the time she made it to her childhood home, she was soaked down to the skin. The Head of House greeted her, the elderly woman tutting at the state of her former mistress.
"Here you are again, back from a trip and looking like you just came out of the sea," she teased, peeling the Marchioness's cloak off of her. It was very heavy—supposedly waterproofed—and left big droplets of water on the floor. "Should I tell everyone that you're here, or would you rather wait until you've changed clothes?"
"Until I've changed, please," the Marchioness said. She and the Head of House went up to her quarters and gossiped while she put on something dry and made her hair presentable again. They then walked together to the library, where the eldest three girls were working on some assignments given to them. The Marchioness walked in by herself, glad to see her daughters again, even though it wasn't her entire family at once.
"Here are some of my darlings," she beamed. She gave them each a hug and a kiss, holding onto them tightly. "How was the trip without me? Did the younger ones behave? Did your Papa behave?"
"Well enough," Astra reported. "Papa and Grandpapa should be in the lounge right now with the younger ones; we wanted to get some work done in peace without them shrieking in our ears."
"Sounds like a wise decision," her mother agreed. "Well, it's good to see at least some of you are doing well, though I think we'd all be better off if the rain stopped."
"I want to go outside in the worst way," Tara moaned. "I can't even bring the young ones out to play! I'm willing to babysit if it gets me out of the mansion!"
"The rain should let up soon enough," the Marchioness said. "Be patient."
Tara muttered something under her breath as she went back to her studies. Once the Marchioness was sure that the teens were fine, she wandered off towards the study, where she found her father sharing a drink with her husband, while her sons sat on the rug, the elder patiently reading to the younger.
"Mama!" Seren gasped. He shoved the book out of Sterling's hands and jumped off his lap, running tearfully towards their mother. "I miss you, Mama!"
"I missed you too," she cooed. The Marchioness kissed Sterling on the forehead before hugging her father, who had in the meantime stood up and approached her.
"There's my girl, breaking up men's bonding time without warning," the Viscount beamed. "Glad you could make it."
"I'm glad too, Papa." She was then greeted by her husband; he merely bent down and kissed first her cheeks, then her forehead, and finally her lips. "Our boys are doing well, I see."
"Now that you're here, there should be no doubt," he murmured against her skin. He then straightened and took Seren in his arms, ticking the boy in the side. "We were only sitting down for drinks and relaxing before dinner—the elder girls wished to study and the younger ones wished to play, meaning it has been us men."
"Sterling and me get apple juices, Mama!" Seren giggled. He broke free of his father's grasp and climbed up to his shoulders. "Papa and Grandpapa get ucky, spoiled juices!"
"Now isn't that silly of them, drinking spoiled juices like that?" the Marchioness laughed. The guilty looks in the Marquis and Viscount's eyes meant that there was a chance one of, or even both, her boys were allowed to try a sip, as their elder sisters had as small children, and the bitter spirits her father kept were a far cry from the sweet, watered-down wines they were allowed to begin drinking with dinner at Lena's age. A taste of the strong stuff while very young was how she was kept from wanting to experiment with the liquor cabinet's contents before she knew how to handle herself, and it was certainly working for her children.
"Did you see the girls?" the Marquis wondered.
"Not Maglina and Oriana," his wife answered. Just then, the two girls dashed into the room, hiding beneath the Marquis's cape. "Well, speak and they shall come. How are you doing?"
"We didn't mean any harm!" Maglina squeaked out in terror.
"Please don't let her throw us out!"
The other adults in the room were terribly confused until a moment later when the Viscountess burst into the room. While the glaze in her eyes said she had barely just risen from a nap, the amount of rouge and lipstick on her face showed that the girls had been attempting to use her as a practice doll. Even her hair had been pinned up haphazardly; the entire sight of her caused her husband to choke down laughter, while her stepdaughter and son-in-law looked on with wide, terrified eyes. Sterling and Seren weren't even immune, with the former hiding behind his grandfather and the latter covering his face with his hands.
"Looks like you were getting some beauty tips from the nips, weren't you?" the Viscount chuckled.
"Keep those ill-born brats and their charity case out of my chambers, or I will make sure your life is miserable until your final days," she sneered. The Marquis inhaled in anger, about to unleash hellfury upon the woman who dare spoke poorly of his children and their friend, except Clara stepped forth, an eerie smile on her face.
"Linda, we both know that we've never enjoyed one another's company," she began, "and I am frankly used to such language about myself that it barely phases me, coming from both you and others." She then took a breath, steeling herself. "However, if you say one thing about my family that they don't deserve, I will be the one to make sure that you are miserable until they lay your cold, wretched body into the even colder earth. That goes doubly for any other child left in our care—this particular child being one born of heroes, who would have eventually outranked you in her own right had you not married my father. Do not make me repeat myself, is that understood?"
The Viscountess glared at her stepdaughter, assessing the situation. "Yes," she spat.
"Good, or next time, I'll allow my lord husband to do the rebuking, and you don't want that," the Marchioness said. She then turned towards Maglina and Oriana, motioning for them to come forward. "Girls, what do you say to Lady Linda?"
"Sorry, Grandmamma," the two said together, refusing to come out from behind the safety of the Marquis's cape. Maglina braved a bit further, stepping forward, though still poking out from the safety of the fabric.
"We wanted you to have a nice surprise when you woke up!" she explained. "We thought that if we did your dinner makeup, you'd be happy!"
"In the future, don't do another's makeup for them unless they are awake and ask for it," the Viscountess hissed. She then turned on her heel and stomped off.
"I don't think I've seen her looking like that the entire time we've been married," the Viscount marveled once his wife was out of earshot. "I know you were trying to do a good thing, but you have to be very careful with Grandmamma."
"We just wanted her to have fun like the rest of us!" Oriana protested, tears beginning to well in her eyes. "Even Mum and Dad don't yell at me like that when I do something bad.
"Grandmamma never had children, so she doesn't know how to talk to them—it's alright." The Viscount opened his arms and let the girls come to him for a hug. "Now, Clara, what do you think we should do?"
"They already apologized, and the shouting would scare anyone into behaving, but I think no dessert tonight should do as an extra reminder, don't you think?"
Maglina and Oriana both nodded sadly. Next time, they were going to run their ideas by Lena before doing anything.
"Mama? Can I help? There's still a little time before dinner," Sterling offered.
"Be careful," the Marchioness warned. The boy took his sister and friend both by the hand and led them out of the room.
"Oh, this is a bind," the Viscount exhaled. "I'll be lucky if I get a court appearance out of her before the snows fly."
"They're only young girls—children—and their work can be undone," the Marquis growled. "It's no wonder she went so long without remarrying after her first husband died… she has the disposition of a shan leopard that lost a kill."
"Let's see what Sterling has first, then we can fling all the words we want," the Marchioness said. "Now… how have things been since I last saw you both?"
It was nearing dinner and there was no sign of the Viscountess, nor Sterling, Oriana, and Maglina. The remainder of the family was beginning to take their seats, with the adults filling in the older three girls on the situation.
"I can't believe they got away with that unscathed," Astra gasped. She and her sisters were truly flabbergasted at the tale.
"Those two are going to be in so much trouble," Tara snarked.
"I just hope Sterling knows what he's doing, or he'll make things worse," Lena finished. It took a while after they all sat down, but the Viscountess did eventually grace them with her presence. Her face was scrubbed clean and her hair redone, and she still seemed more irritable than usual.
"I see there's less children at the table," she mentioned. "Are there punishments being served?"
"No, Grandmamma! We were just finishing this!" Maglina said cheerily. She and Oriana then came into the dining room, closely followed by Sterling. The girls were each carrying a small vase with some snakeflowers, eglantines, and peonies. They put the vases on either side of the Viscountess's place setting before giving her a kiss on the cheek. "We're really sorry, so Sterling helped us pick the right flowers to help say so."
The Viscountess stared at the small gifts, unsure of what to say. She glanced from one girl to the other, wondering how to react, and instead patted them on the head.
"Sit down—the cook is probably furious enough as it is that we haven't started yet." It was an order that the children gladly followed, for it meant things were on the mend.