Disclaimer: Rowling presented seven years of a school which was supposed to have existed for centuries. Hogwarts 1835 had little from canon besides location. Hogwarts 1940 could serve as a prequel to the canon books. This sequel to 1835 has little from canon but a few family names and a location or two, but those are from Rowling's books. Similarities to any person, living are dead, with the characters in this story is an amazing coincidence.
My parameters for what constitutes canon are defined at the end of chapter one.
Chapter 8 – The Tempest
Claudius was still in bed when Mr. Malfoy joined Miss Kestrel at the breakfast table. "We don't need to go out today," he reminded her as he sat down. "Mr. Trotter plans to call where tenants are doing well."
"I enjoyed seeing the farms."
"Which you hope to possess some day."
"I enjoyed seeing the farms... Seeing the farms and driving the cart."
"Very well then. I'd like to see some tenants who are doing well to take the taste of the Throutons from my mouth."
Mr. Trotter was saddling his horse when they arrived at his home, "Didn't expect to see you today," he told Mr. Malfoy as he checked the bridle to insure the horse's comfort.
"It was my idea," Miss Kestrel spoke up. "I enjoyed yesterday."
"It appears that, to one from the city, gathering eggs represents an adventure rather than a chore," Mr. Malfoy told his steward.
Mr. Trotter laughed as he swung his leg over his mount. "Perhaps we shall find some other adventure for her today."
There were no adventures that morning, but the day was beautiful and they waved at farmers busy working in their fields as they leisurely rode through the countryside. They stopped at the occasional cottage to inquire about the health of the residents, but other than a grandmother with pleurisy no one voiced a complaint.
Mr. Trotter stared up, gauging the angle of the sun. "Time for a bite."
Mr. Malfoy turned to Vivien, "Miss Kestrel, we shall eat–"
"Here," she finished.
"What?"
"We shall eat here," she told them. "I had the house– I had the servants at the house pack a hamper."
"But–" Mr. Malfoy tried to protest.
"I see a pretty little copse over there," she gestured to the left. "Shade would be pleasant."
They rested in the shade for a moment at the end of the meal, and Vivien poured the last of the bottle of wine into Mr. Malfoy's cup. "A very fine meal," his steward commented."
"Miss Kestrel delights in surprising me," Titus commented.
"I did not order this meal for you," Vivien told him.
"No? Then for whom?"
"I wanted something for me – yesterday's meal was dreadful. But since your servants prepared the food I felt I should ask them to make enough for you also."
"Well," Mr. Trotter added, "since my servants had nothing to do with this I simply add my words of gratitude for being included."
"You are quite welcome."
"And, should you decide to ride out again tomorrow you would be quite welcome."
"Is there any problem which demands my attention?" Mr. Malfoy asked.
"No. I might see if the snare captured the fox, but nothing which requires your presence."
"Can we go out again, please?" Vivien asked.
"You heard Mr. Trotter say there was nothing which required my attention."
"But if we went to the farm that had the fox, we would pass that farm with the little girl, Bessie, and I promised—"
"Miss Kestrel," Titus sighed, "do you remember fearing that I spent entirely too much time intruding on my steward's business?"
"What's that?" Mr. Trotter asked.
"My son wants me to sit at home and do nothing. He thinks I should let you run the farm and trust you to manage everything."
"I hope you trust me."
"I do. But Claudius doesn't appreciate there is still work for me to do, and had filled Miss Kestrel's mind with the idea I am simply annoying you while you attempt to do your job, and that you resent my presence."
Mr. Trotter turned to Vivien, "Was that what you thought?"
"No," she insisted. Mr. Malfoy raised an eyebrow and stared at her. Vivien hesitated, "Claudius did say his father spent too much time interfering in your affairs" Mr. Malfoy continued to stare. "Fine," she snapped, "I believed Claudius, but one should accept the word of a friend if there is no reason to think otherwise."
"Young women should never trust any man, with the possible exception of their fathers," Mr. Trotter intoned solemnly.
Miss Kestrel did not smile at his witticism the way he had hoped.
"Her father died when she was very young," Mr. Malfoy explained.
"Oh... I'm sorry, I had–"
"No, you could not have known," Vivien assured him. "Fortunately my mother is a very trustworthy woman."
"I believe, as a general statement, that women are more trustworthy than men," Mr. Trotter commented, glad that he had not killed all conversation. "At least that is what my wife tells me."
"I can not believe so many men are devoid of honor," Vivien responded. "I find Mr. Malfoy very trustworthy. I believe he would set himself on fire before he would break his word."
Titus sighed, "When she doesn't surprise me, she flatters me. I never know what she might say."
"And for that insult," Vivien assured him. "I will accompany Mr. Trotter tomorrow when he checks the snare. And I will help Bessie collect eggs." She turned to her host, "You are welcome to come with us."
"Do you plan another picnic hamper?"
"The pleasure of my company isn't enough for you?"
Mr. Malfoy chuckled, "Perhaps I should come just to keep Mr. Trotter from being the target for your teasing."
"Perhaps I should just have a hamper prepared for two."
"He is my employer," Mr. Trotter reminded her in a loud enough whisper for all to hear, "it would put me in a very bad light to enjoy a bounty such as that lunch while he went hungry."
Vivien gave a mock sigh, "Then, for your sake, I will prepare another hamper for three."
On that Wednesday afternoon, as those on the Malfoy estate enjoyed their luncheon, Miss Kelly nervously diagnosed the cause of the problem to Mrs. March, "I believe the problem is devil's wort."
"Devil's wort?"
"Not common, but... So unusual I spent the day looking for it. I... I believe that is what it is." She unfolded a piece of paper and showed the older woman a stalk and leaves.
Mrs. March frowned, "That is milkwort."
"Devil's wort looks like milkwort, but it's poison. More dangerous than laurel for horses."
"I've not heard of devil's wort... It is more toxic than laurel?"
"Not more toxic... A horse won't eat laurel unless it's starving. Must taste bad. Horse'll graze on devil's wort. Lot of milkwort in that pasture, this has a scarlet vein on the leaf. One horse must have ate quite a bit, the others less."
The older woman stared hard, "Afraid my eyes aren't what they were." She called to a young man mucking out the stables, "Tom, here boy." She handed him the plant, "Your young eyes see a scarlet vein anywhere on this?"
He stared hard, "Yes'm."
"Thank you, back to work." She returned the specimen to Miss Kelly. "I've still never heard of it," she said with suspicion in her voice.
"If I had the right materials I could test. That's what I think happened though. You need to get some people to go through that pasture, shoulder-to-shoulder, and chop out anything that looks like milkwort."
April March hesitated. That seemed a great deal of effort to remove a common plant which had never caused her horses trouble. On the other hand, she would do anything to protect her horses, and the young woman had been remarkably effective in treating them. "I would like to be certain. Could you get the materials you need for your test? There's an apothecary nearby."
"Doubt he's got what I'd need. Could feed this to a horse. Couple stalks won't do real harm, might make the heart a little irregular."
"I'd rather take it myself than risk a horse. Could I sample it?"
"Nope, doesn't hurt people – or I'd a tried it myself."
"You'd have eaten some?"
"Why not? You said you would."
"Miss Kelly, I am going to believe you. We'll have that pasture clean by Saturday."
Kitty nodded. "I'm hopin' the mare will be strong enough I can head back to the Malfoys' tomorrow.
Thursday dawned overcast. "It might rain," Mr. Malfoy commented as he gazed out a window while eating breakfast.
"Or it might clear... I begin to understand why Sir William was given his title. It must be wonderful to know what the weather will be."
"We don't need to go, I'm certain Mr. Trotter would understand."
"Too late. The house elves have prepared the hamper, we must go."
The sky cleared somewhat as they rode to the steward's home, and there was hope the sun might break through the clouds. In the mid-morning it grew darker once again but it was still not certain that rain would actually fall.
They ate lunch in a hurried manner as the sky once again began to clear and there was hope of real sunshine as patches of blue appeared.
In the early afternoon the wind suddenly picked up and within minutes dark clouds scudded over the patches of blue and it grew dark as twilight.
"Head home," Mr. Malfoy advised his steward. "There'll be no more work today."
Mr. Trotter saluted his employer and turned his horse as the first slow, fat drops of rain began to fall. He slapped its flanks to encourage it to run faster, but the horse seemed well aware of the change of weather and had already started to gallop in anticipation of a dry stall and a meal of oats.
Vivien had grown better at driving the dogcart and had already turned it in the direction of the manor. "Go ahead," she encouraged Mr. Malfoy. "You can go faster."
"I won't leave you in the rain," he said, matching the pace of his mount to the speed of the vehicle and riding alongside.
"I'll be fine," she insisted. "Go ahead."
"No."
"You'll catch a chill and I'll have to nurse you back to health," she threatened. The rain had started to fall a little harder.
"The rain will fall on you as much as... You have a charm to keep you dry, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"I told you, I don't want any tenants seeing magic."
"Anyone with an ounce of intelligence will be too busy heading for cover to notice I am dry."
"And if you encounter someone without an ounce of intelligence, or one with intelligence on the road – heading for shelter?"
"I'll take it off before they notice."
"There is a chance–"
"There is a certainty of being soaked to the bone," she snapped as the rain began to fall in earnest. "If you chose to remain in this deluge longer than necessary you are more foolish than a muggle."
"And I will not abandon a guest to the elements," he said firmly and kept his place beside her on the road.
They continued in silence for a minute, the sky growing darker except when illuminated by flashes of lightning.
"I could put the rain repelling charm on you," she offered.
"I don't–" he started to protest.
"Or, as I said, I can nurse you to health after you catch a chill. I shall feed you broth and lay a cool hand on your fevered brow as you groan in agony and predict your eminent demise."
He actually laughed. "I would not want in inconvenience you. At this point I am so thoroughly soaked that anyone meeting me won't realize the rain is no longer hitting me... You should remove the charm from yourself a minute before we arrive at the stable."
She opened her mouth to protest, then realized he was right. "Agreed."
Mr. Prewett and Kitty had returned to the Hall before Vivien and Mr. Malfoy's return. They were sitting in a drawing room, observing the storm, and saw the pair dashing to the house from the stables.
"Did you avoid the storm?" Vivien asked when she saw the dry pair.
"No, but Mrs. March said her rheumatism warned her of rain and she insisted we take along some oilskins. You are very wet."
"Mr. Malfoy insisted I take off the rain repelling charm before we arrived so Clarence would not be suspicious."
"You would rather have told him we can do magic?" her host protested.
"There are times when a small memory charm can be very effective."
"And putting holes into the memories of one's servants is always a dangerous thing, you can never be certain what they may, or may not remember, after tampering with them."
"You might be correct," Vivien admitted. "But it is still a dreadful inconvenience."
"The world does not revolve around your convenience."
"Oh... Why not? And whose convenience does it revolve around?"
She laughed at his expression and he sighed. Turning to Matthias he said, "While the universe revolves around Miss Kestrel you might tell Gordon to bring in tea and a good brandy. I will change into something dry and be down shortly." He turned to Vivien and bowed with exaggerated mock civility, "And is there anything else m'lady might desire for her convenience?"
Vivien raised her nose in the air and took on a tone of artificial gentility, "I have always believed in the efficacy of toast and strawberry jam in combination with tea for warding off a cold after being soaked." She held out her hand, "You may escort me to the top of the stairs."
He took her hand. As they ascended the stairs he chuckled, "I am almost sorry Claudius is determined not to wed. It would be amusing to have you here."
Vivien was silent. A week before she would have taken the comment as evidence that Mr. Malfoy's resolve was starting to crumble. Today the prospect of marriage to Claudius held less appeal. "I fear the world revolves without concern for the convenience of any of us," she sighed. "Backgammon after tea? Kitty and Mr. Prewett seem happy watching the storm, but I have had enough of it for today."
"I agree with you on the storm. Backgammon it is," he told her as they parted company at the head of the stairs to go to their respective rooms.
In the evening, when Vivien and Kitty retired for the night, the Irish girl went into Miss Kestrel's bedroom. "Saw something today, coming back from the March place."
"Oh?"
"Rode through little village a few miles from here... Saw Peter."
"Peter?"
"Peter Philpot. How many Peters do we know?"
"What would Peter be doing there?" Kitty raised an eyebrow and stared at Vivien. "I... No. That is not possible."
"Why not?"
"Are you sure it was Peter? Did you speak with him?"
"No, I didn't speak to him. But it was him."
"You could be mistaken."
"And you could accept what I saw."
"No, I–"
"Who are the two men you know with the least interest in women?"
"Peter and Claudius."
"And we both know that Peter is only interested in men, and we've suspected it of Claude for years."
"But they never appeared to be... I mean, Peter is such a great gossip. Surely he would have said something."
"Peter also knows how to keep his mouth shut. And if he really cared for Claude, and we know Claude is concerned for the Malfoy name, he wouldn't have said a word."
"Turk or someone would have noticed something."
"Besides the fact they were favorite partners playing whist?"
"That means nothing. I enjoyed having Peter as a whist partner – he plays very well."
"I'm just saying–"
"You are jumping to conclusions without sufficient evidence."
"You are in denial."
Miss Kestrel took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "Assuming you are correct – and I'm not saying you are – what would you have us do?"
"I am telling you only to warn you. I know you came here with the intention of marrying Claude."
Vivien shrugged, "I assumed, were I to marry Claudius, that he would have a lover. I did not think it would be Peter, and I am still not certain your suspicions are correct. But I don't think it would have made a difference. I like Peter. It might actually have made it easier to bear."
"You could have had a lover and then at least the four of you could play whist."
"No. I would have been true to my marriage vows. That was always my intent. I would have done nothing to bring disgrace to the Malfoy name. That is the reason Claudius keeps his inclinations hidden."
"The way you keep saying, 'would have'... You've given up on Claude at the altar?"
The blond witch sighed. "I am beginning to recognize there might be a happiness beyond mere security. Marriage to Claudius could only provide security. I would like the other as well."
"Sounds like a revelation hit you while I was at the March estate. What happened?"
"We... Mr. Malfoy and I went with his steward to view the work of his tenants. None are wealthy, but they have enough. And most of them have something else as well – something in their partner, a mutual respect, that I don't believe I could ever feel from Claudius."
"So... What are your plans now?"
"I don't know. When it's time to leave I'll go back to Diagon and work in the shop. Perhaps someday a wizard will walk through the door and I will know he is the one. The nice thing about Kestrel's is that no one truly poor is apt to come through the door."
Kitty chuckled, "Don't think you get a lot of wizards through the door."
"Oh, more than you think. Most of them arrive with wives, but we do make clothing for wizards also and there are a few with a taste for quality garments. What about you? What will you do when our month is up?"
"Mrs March would like me to set up shop in the neighborhood."
"Mr. Malfoy showed me her letter. Is she serious?"
"I think so. She's warned me a woman won't be listened to like a man, but her patronage would start me off well. I think other people will come around in time."
"You won't meet many wizards, working for muggles."
"True," the Irish girl admitted. "But like you I don't want many wizards, just one. If I know my mother she's looking through the cousins even now to find one for me. 'Course if I have work she may try to marry me off to one of the shiftless ones who doesn't."
Friday remained overcast with occasional rain. In addition to hearing Kitty's report on the March home those at Malfoy Hall kept themselves entertained with games and the library.
The usually unseen house elves were visible throughout the day, cleaning rooms and straightening in anticipation of the wizards and witches who would gather the next day. One end of the long gallery was prepared for the arrival of musicians while tables placed at the other end would hold refreshments.
Claudius regaled the two women with stories about how dull they would find the next day. The house would be filled with stuffy old wizards and witches who looked down upon everything with disdain.
Kitty turned to Mr. Prewett. "Have you been here before during any of these meetings?"
"I have."
"Is it as bad as Claude says?"
Matthias hesitated.
"Remember," Claudius reminded her, "he's not allowed to tell the truth – has to be polite and all." He turned to Matthias, "I gave her my opinion. Tell her what you really think."
"I... um... think you should have stayed with Mrs. March for a few more days, just to be sure the horses would be fine."
Claudius laughed, "Terribly circumspect of you."
"So, Claude here is telling the truth?" Miss Kelly asked.
"I am my father's son," Claudius boasted.
"It sounds like many of the important families in the wizarding community will be present. I'm certain it can't be as terrible as you describe," Vivien objected.
"You'll see," Claudius threatened. "I've already told father I'll find somewhere, anywhere, to spend the night tomorrow. He would usually object to my telling him such a thing, but he sympathizes and I have his blessing on the promise I shall be home in time for church."
"But why are you leaving?"
"Because they are the considered the most important families in the community. They are full of themselves, with each one convinced his or her family is the most important in the land. I am tolerated as a Malfoy. They won't notice or speak to you and Kitty."
Miss Kelly turned to Mr. Prewett, "The notion has occurred to me that perhaps I left the March farm too early. I'm thinking of going back tomorrow to see if the mare's getting better and if they cleared out the devil's wort from that field."
"Do you need any company for the trip?"
"I think I know the way, I'll be–"
"Please?"
She laughed, "You drive the gig." She looked over at Vivien, "Want to come with us? Sounds like you'll be facing 'em by yourself if you stay."
Vivien had virtually surrendered all hope of becoming Mrs. Malfoy. But the most important wizard and witches in the land would be under this roof on the morrow. Dinner and the ball represented her opportunity to be introduced to those who could help advance her in society. "I shall stay. I can't believe it is as bad as Claudius presents it."
By carriage and floo representatives of many of the great and powerful families in the wizarding community began to arrive in the late morning.
Vivien, realizing she would have no place in the discussion, left the manor with Claudius as the visitors and Mr. Malfoy began the formal meeting. Clarence saddled horses for them.
"What do you suppose they will decide to do?" Vivien asked as they rode down the main path from the house.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"There will be suggestions made, followed by arguments about why the idea will not work. And another suggestion will be made – and it will be attacked by the person who made the first suggestion and felt slighted at its rejection. The guild will disappear and the so-called Ministry of Magic will continue to grow."
"But the guild has served us well for so many years."
"The guild existed for many years. It has not necessarily served us well. Too often it served the guild masters. The religion of the modern and efficient will make the Ministry appear a more attractive alternative, promising to treat all with equality."
"But that is a good thing."
"That is an impossible thing. No, the people back at the manor are correct, I've seen muggle bureaucracy. It grows and feeds on itself and justifies its continued existence with excessive regulation. As a further difficulty, those in the meeting are not united in how to preserve the guild. They all recognize there are problems, but don't know how to fix them – and may not even agree on what is a problem and what is working as it should."
"You are a cynic."
"I am a realist. I've also heard father talk about the meetings I've not seen. I suspect a goodly number of those attending have given up on preserving the guild but only attend for the supper and dance afterwards. One must preserve one's place among the social elite. Most regard being invited to the discussion as something of an honor. I dare say half of them don't give a personal damn about the guild, but their families have always been prominent and they fear that if the ministry is based on merit as its supporters want to believe they will not have a role. They need not fear; the wealthy will corrupt the ministry – when it comes – as assuredly as they corrupted the guild."
"They are the elite of the wizarding community," Vivien reminded herself. "It raises my status to be seen here."
The path divided, and Vivien turned left to make a circuit within the park before returning to the Hall for dinner. Claudius took the right, "Tell father I may meet you in church tomorrow," he called to Viv.
Vivien arrived back at the manor early so that she would have time to dress properly. She had observed how the wizards and witches had been dressed when they arrived and was delighted to have a reason for some of the finery she had brought with her. To her chagrin she was seated at the bottom of the table. More than a week of eating at the head of the table had lulled her into expecting a similar honor, but in the presence of the rich and powerful she was reminded of her place in society. Two women, seated well above her at the table, were deliberately loud enough in their whispers for their opinion to carry to those seated around them, and even carry to Vivien herself.
"... Kestrel ... seamstress in Diagon."
"... explains ... above her station."
The two women laughed, as did those seated around them.
Vivien, seated between the doddering survivor of a once-great family line and a middle-aged witch who spent the meal complaining about the food while eating large quantities of the same, did not have a word addressed to her throughout the meal.
Although the youngest person at the dance Vivien still anticipated pleasure from the event. She enjoyed dancing, and everyone there was high enough in society that her own status would be enhanced by her presence in the company.
She remained without a partner for the first dance. Some wizards might have asked her, but the threats of their wives or other prominent witches and wizards alerted them to the harm they might do in the eyes of others if they asked the daughter of a seamstress onto the dance floor.
Sir William Baker noticed she had no partner at the start of the second waltz and asked her onto the dance floor. He cared little about the opinion of others, and his own reputation was not especially good because of his drinking habit. But as the head of Slytherin house he wanted to hear the news of his former charge and ask what she knew of Jeremiah Abbot. "I've been told he has the gift."
"That is what Miss Gray reported. I did not hear his visions, but was told of them."
"Was it limited to who would win quidditch games?"
"Those are the ones Miss Gray related to me. I fear I know nothing about how often he has his visions or what he might see, but she told me that what he claimed to have seen happened as he said it would."
"I will pay more attention to the young man next year. He will be the keeper for the quidditch team, will he not?"
"Yes."
"Do you remain in contact with Miss Gray?"
"We write often."
"Send her my greetings when next you write. Thank her again for all she did that evening and assure her I've not had a drink since that night."
"That will please her very much."
"Mrs. Pilton told the faculty of her marriage. Where is she now?"
"Professor Potter's plans were modified by the marriage. He'd hope to arrive in Siberia this summer, but will now try for the spring. They will spend the winter in Moscow learning the dialect, but I believe they are currently in Durmstrang."
At the end of the dance he thanked her for being his partner and left to ask another witch for the next waltz. Vivien looked around the hall hopefully, but another invitation to dance was not extended. Nor did a partner seek her out for the following dance.
She moved over to the table of refreshments and overheard one of the witches who had ridiculed her during supper berating her husband. "… drunken fool… don't know why she is here. Mr. Malfoy … should not be here … No one will ask her for a dance …"
Vivien did not know if she had been seen by the speaker or not. She suspected the woman would not have cared.
The blond witch felt her world collapsing around her. She had come to Malfoy Manor in hopes of marriage to Claudius. Whatever his intentions were in the invitation Titus Malfoy insisted that her marriage to his son was impossible. She had hoped that her presence would introduce her to other families of importance, but it had only served to make her an object of ridicule and the butt of jests. Slipping quietly away from the great hall she ran up the stairs and went to her room, throwing herself down on the bed she started to cry. She wished Kitty were there to comfort her and envied her friend for being away.
Mr. Malfoy did not immediately notice Miss Kestrel's absence, being preoccupied with his duties as host. Finally, feeling no pressing demands on his attention, he looked around to make certain Miss Kestrel was enjoying herself. He could not see her among the guests. He moved to the refreshment table where a house elf ladled punch, "Have you seen Miss Kestrel?"
"She left... maybe half an hour ago."
"She's been gone half an hour?"
"Yes."
Her absence seemed very unusual. He tried to guess what might have happened, but failed to come to a hypothesis which made sense. He left the great hall. She was not in the library. He knocked on the door to her bedroom. "Miss Kestrel?"
"What?"
"Are you all right?"
"Go away, please."
"Is something wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong."
"Why are you up here?"
"I don't belong downstairs."
"Why not?"
"I don't belong."
"It is a party for my guests. You are my guest, so you certainly belong."
"No I don't. I was ignored. I was laughed at. I... It doesn't matter. I am not going downstairs."
"May I come in?"
"No... I've been crying. I'm a mess."
"I am coming in." She sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over and looking sorry for herself and miserable. "What happened?"
"I told you. I don't belong here."
"This is my home. You are here at my invitation, and you belong if I say you do."
"Some of the witches here don't believe that."
"And you believe them?"
"They're from good families. I'm not. They're right."
"Where have you hidden Vivien Kestrel?"
"What?"
He pretended to look under the bed. "She can't have gone far. Is she in the wardrobe?"
"Have you quite lost your mind?"
"No, but you are obviously not she. Miss Kestrel came here hoping to marry my son. It was extraordinarily presumptuous of her, but she had nerve. She even stood up to me - and I am told that is a most difficult feat, although I am uncertain if that be true. Although I sometimes thought her foolish I never thought her a coward. She would be talked about behind her back by the jealous and the less talented, but she did not let that deter her. She would have known it comes with the Malfoy name she desired. But I come upstairs now and find you crying and wanting pity, you are obviously an impostor of some sort. Miss Kestrel would be at the dance and would be damned before she would let some witches drive her from a party. Now where is she?"
Vivien actually managed to smile during his speech. "I fear I lost her for a moment, but she is still here."
"Good."
"And what would you have Miss Kestrel do?"
"I would have her come downstairs with me and do me the honor of allowing me the next waltz. After she has waltzed with me any wizard unwilling to dance with her is insulting me in my own home – and there isn't a man in this gathering who would dare do that. And any witch who would dare speak a word against her openly would reveal herself as spiteful and petty… Perhaps I should agree with those who accuse me of being a difficult man to contradict."
Vivien took a kerchief from the table by the bed and blew her nose. "Miss Kestrel's face is currently a mess. Go downstairs and I will–"
"Fix your makeup now. Even without makeup you are the most beautiful woman in the Hall, and you certainly know that – and they know it also, which makes them all the more spiteful. But if vanity compels you to reapply powder and rouge I will wait. I would not want her to vanish again,"
"She will not," Vivien promised and Miss Kestrel hurriedly went to the mirror and repaired her face.
She took his arm as they descended the stairs. "Thank you," she whispered. She found herself feeling happy to be at his side. It was a warm feeling such as she had never experienced before. She had often taken pleasure in her beauty. She had often taken pleasure in her knowledge in those subject areas in which she excelled. She had taken pleasure on those rare occasions when she had enjoyed success in a wager. She was feeling far too happy to frown, but she was puzzled. It was a moment of triumph over those who had ridiculed her earlier in the evening. Perhaps that was the only explanation necessary for the joy she experienced, and if so she owed it all to Titus Malfoy for coming to her room and insisting she return with him. She looked up at him, "Thank you," she murmured a second time.
He glanced at her and smiled. It was a pleasant smile. She had regarded him as a handsome man in an abstract evaluation from the time she met him, but the smile made him look more handsome than any man she could remember. It also increased the warm feeling of pleasure she experienced. "You are welcome," he whispered in reply. "Thank you for the promise of the next waltz."
"You dance very well," she told him as the quintet played and they waltzed together.
"The credit must go to my late wife," he assured her. "She was very fond of dancing."
"Well then, I give you credit for listening to her, not all men as wise enough to listen to their wives."
"And I may not deserve credit on that front either. Emma could be quite headstrong in voicing her opinions..." He laughed softly, "Miss Kestrel, you are more like Emma than I realized."
"Should I take that as a compliment?"
"You should take that as a very great compliment."
Mr. Malfoy's prediction of how Vivien would be treated proved so accurate that the pretty witch found herself slightly disappointed. No witch present dared utter a word aloud against her after her dance with Mr. Malfoy. And she never lacked a partner for the rest of the evening. If the truth be known, many of the wizards present would have asked Miss Kestrel to dance earlier, but the fear of censure from their wives had kept kept them from making such a request. Now, should their wives criticize them after their return home they could insist they only asked the young woman to dance because they did not wish to insult their host. While being able to remain on the dance floor was gratifying to Vivien's pride she would not have objected to having a dance free in the hopes that Mr. Malfoy might have asked her to waltz again.
They waltzed in her dreams that night, his arms around her as they moved together to the music. Details of the dream were vague, as is often the case with dreams. She was uncertain if the long gallery was filled with other dancers or empty save for them and the musicians. All she remembered seeing was his smile and his brown eyes staring into her own.
Some troll has circulated an entirely bogus etymology for the word picnic on the internet. The practice of the wealthy having a decent meal out-of-doors by choice (as contrasted with the working class who ate a rough meals while on the job out of necessity) goes back many centuries. The word is not as old as the practice. A French term meaning something like BYOB (bring your own bottle) appeared in the 17th century, moved across the channel with the spelling changed to picnic and with the current meaning in the mid-18th century and had entered common use by the start of the 19th century.
Laurel is poisonous to horses, which avoid eating it. Milkwort is a common plant. Devil's wort is pure fiction.
It was considered dreadfully important to seat people in order of precedence at the dining table in the 19th century and etiquette books of the era could include lists indicating social levels to help clear up questions like, "Who is higher, the younger son of a duke, or the oldest son of a baron? Where is the niece of the king (or an illegitimate son of King William IV) on the social order?"
