Major Alexander Edrington, Earl of Edrington, had faced many a frightening predicament in his life. He'd been under-manned and out-numbered in battle, he'd been surrounded, beaten back, forced to retreat. But never had he been as distressed as he was the morning the sun greeted him with its cheerful yet pessimistic rosy orange light, only to be overwhelmed by clouds moments later, the morning when he got up as usual, took breakfast by himself in the breakfast room off his bedroom's main chamber as usual, dressed, restrained his unruly golden curls into a tight queue and descended the main stair as a man escorting himself to his own execution.
"You needn't have dressed for battle, Alexander dear," Lady Hermione Edrington, the thin elegant woman taking tea in the downstairs parlor sighed as her son entered, motioning towards the regimentals he wore.
"I always show my colors when confronting the enemy," he replied darkly, taking a seat in an armchair across from his mother and accepting a cup of tea from the parlor maid.
The refined woman tipped her pointed chin up, regarding her son in a fashion that always made him uncomfortable, the silver in her fading blonde hair catching in the candlelight, her pale speckled sea green eyes twinkling with a mischievous light despite her regal manner.
"Honestly, Alexander," she told him mildly, "she is a perfectly lovely young lady. It's not as if I haven't waited for you to do this yourself; I have and you have failed to find a suitable candidate for marriage and so!, I have taken matters into my own hands. Don't be so morose."
"I have met some of your candidates, mother, and none have caught my fancy," he snorted. "Stuck up, spoilt..."
"Too tall, too thin, too dark, not dark enough," his mother recited with a sigh. "I know you look for romance, Alexander. That will come later, trust me. May I remind you that your Father's and mine was an arranged marriage. You must trust my judgment; I have found a fine one this time. She is a bit on the shy side, according to her mother, Lady Eades, but I think you'll be very fond of her."
"And how does the lady in question feel about being given to the Earl of Edrington like no more than a fancy service set?" Edrington asked darkly. "As if the bride herself was one of the wedding gifts?"
Lady Edrington let a breath escape her breast patiently. Honestly, she couldn't blame him. When she'd first been brought to Edrington Estate by her father to meet her future husband for the first time a mere week prior to their wedding, she'd been frightened senseless. She imagined how the girl would be feeling right about now, her stomach all butterflies, wondering if her betrothed would turn out to be beauty or the beast. The mood he was in, gray and stormy like the mid-morning sky, he was likely to be more than surly to the poor terrified thing, especially from what her mother had told her about the timid creature.
"Do try to get to know her before you go scaring her out of her wits," his mother frowned, pouting slightly as she bit the corner of her pink and slender lower lip.
"I don't intend on scaring her out of her wits, mother," he sighed, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. He *was* behaving less than amiable this morning and if this girl, this lady, was as reserved and bashful as his mother had made her out to be she'd most likely think her husband-to-be a monster. "Does this `fine lady' have a name and if so will you enlighten me or shall I just have to guess it?"
"Frances Eades," Lady Edrington replied, with a faint smile. Alexander at least was feigning interest that was a start. "And she will be accompanied by her guardians, Lady Morgianna Eades, her mother, and Dame Cecile Wardsoame, her sister. And I do expect you to extend to them common courtesy as they will be guests in our home until Frances has a chance to settle in." The parlor maid, Elise, entered and bowed silently. "Ah," Lady Edrington smiled, "they've arrived. Come along, Alexander. We shall greet them."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Is he handsome, mama?" Frances asked, peering out of the carriage window tentatively at the looming shape of Edrington Manor in the near distance with wide dark green eyes, a lock of wispy strawberry hair falling across her similarly colored brow.
"Of course he is," Lady Morgianna replied, opening one violet colored eye lazily to consider her daughter. "Would I allow one of my girls anything else, Franny?" Cecile prodded her mother further awake with one finger and smiled mischievously, her dark eyes shining with a morbid glee as her perfect golden tresses spilled across her shoulders. "What is it Cecy?!" Morgianna snapped, opening both eyes this time and straightening herself when she saw they were approaching their destination. "Lovely, lovely. Franny, sweetness, collect yourself."
"Will he be mean, mama?" Frances asked as if she hadn't heard her mother. Two figures had appeared now at the front steps of the enormous manor house, one female, one very upright male in a dazzling red uniform. Frances wished she could see him better; she squinted in order to get a better look but to no avail. "Will he be gruff like papa was? Or ill tempered like Sir Thomas was? I didn't like him!" she screwed up her face in an obvious gesture of dislike.
"He will be as sweet as honey," Morgianna assured her daughter, taking her pale chin in her hand and giving her a loving squeeze. "Would I allow anything else for my dearest, my youngest?"
"You allowed it for me," Cecy pouted, crossing her arms across her chest in a sign of protest. "Sir Thomas was horrid," she spat out. "He was horrid and I'm glad he's dead!"
"Hush, Cecy," scolded Morgianna. "Bite your tongue! They'll be no talk like that here, understood?" Cecy reluctantly agreed, still scowling. "Sir Thomas was a mistake, a poorly conceived scheme and there will be no more speak of him! And quit your moping! What will they think of us if my eldest daughter comes to their house as a guest and sulks like a little spoilt child the entire time?"
"They will think whatever you want them to, mama, they always do," Cecile said in a low dangerous tone but looked away when Morgianna shot her a menacing glare.
The carriage came to a halt and a footman opened the door, take Lady Morgianna's hand and helping her out. The first thing that shocked Lord Edrington is how incredibly tall and regal the woman was, how strikingly prominent were her stern facial features, how imposing her stature with her broad shoulders and noble bearing. Curls of dark hair were tempered with just minor hints of silver and white, her dark brow and eyes stern in appearance and yet somehow ethereal, otherworldly.
Next came Cecile, as tall and harsh as her mother though she had a impish air that her parent lacked with stormy cunning eyes deep set into her brow and a temperament to match, and over flowing curls like spun gold which shone even against the overcast sky. She gave Edrington a particularly naughty glare and for one horrified moment he believed this devilish creature to be his future bride.
Both mother and daughter turned as a third figure appeared from the carriage, small in height and nervous in demeanor. Her hair was the dark thick color of wild strawberries with eyebrows and eyelashes to match and her eyes mysterious and tumultuous, like the skies after a storm. Unlike her relatives who were severe and angular, she was rounded, soft, her somber purple dress doing its best to contain and conceal her ample pale bosom.
Edrington instantly felt the heat rise beneath his many layers of clothes despite his best efforts to control and restrict himself. Discipline, he reminded himself, it's all about discipline, order and restraint. Love at first site was the hackneyed imaginings of fiction writers and fairy tales, perhaps lust... but that could easily be kept in check so long as he kept the order within himself. Certainly, she wasn't handsome in the common sense, not like the Ladies he was used to dealing in, but there was something about her, a quirky sort of loveliness that affected him. And perhaps this was a good thing were she to become his wife, as if her beauty would be a secret shared only between her and her husband; a prospect, which was rapidly looking more attractive to Alexander as every minute passed.
"...And this is my son, the Earl of Edrington," Lady Hermione was making introductions. Frances hung back shyly, daring to glance into Alexander's dark eyes but once before turning away, her cheeks turning a natural flattering rouge. He took her hand delicately and kissed the back of it, her face turning a deeper shade of crimson. "Good, good," Lady Edrington smiled slightly, silently pleased at the small reaction and her son's sudden rediscovered gentility. "Come, let's inside then, shall we?"
