story snippet I wrote at work
Apr. 13th, 2009 09:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrArranged marriage story, we shall see how it goes, hmm? Only about 3 pages.
Impractical
"That's quite a bit of post, eh?"
"Hmm?" Terrell looked up absently as he heard the voice of his best friend, Kirian, and saw that Kirian had indeed taken up residence at the seat opposite, and was currently poking and prodding at Terrell's mail. Terrell made a face at the mess, the mail being one thing he did hate going through, even if practicality demanded it be tended. "Yes, bugger it. As if I've not got enough to do."
"Speaking of doing things," Kirian said, "are you attending the Quinton lecture this evening?"
"Attending?" Terrell asked with a snort, and gave up any attempt at studying. Kirian was obviously in the mood to talk, and there was nothing for that save to let Kirian run his course or wait until something else distracted him. "I'm assisting him with the thing, curse my luck. I've half a mind to be drunk while I do it, but that—"
"Would not be practical," Kirian finished for him.
"Precisely," Terrell said with a nod, refusing to be baited. He rolled his eyes as Kirian continued to poke and paw at his mail. "Oh, do leave off. None of that is for you."
"No," Kirian agreed, "but this certainly looks to be a serious matter for you."
Terrell stared in surprise at the envelope Kirian flourished. He knew it on the spot—the scarlet paper, the elegant swan crest pressed into black wax, the short, concise hand…a formal missive from his father, and it looked thick. That boded good or ill.
In no real hurry to discover which, he nevertheless reached out and plucked the envelope from Kirian's fingers, breaking the seal and pulling out a thick fold of what proved to be many sheaves of paper—some of them signed and notarized. Legal documents, then. He set them aside in favor of first reading his father's accompanying letter.
Terrell,
I have arranged a marriage for you. It comes rather suddenly, I know, but I take fortune where I find it. I know you would not be troubled. The informal announcements have been made, I enclosed copies of them in addition to the early contracts being drawn up.
Your betrothed is Edlin Crandall Courtright, the third son of George Courtright. I expect you know the name. He is a good man, intelligent, hardworking, and greatly enthused over the marriage and the opportunities it presents. We met three months ago, during the course of business. He suits the estate and family well, and I believe you will get on together.
I am arranging a formal supper to announce things properly at the end of the this month, both as your husband and the future Steward of Fivecoats Estate. We should, obviously, appreciate your attendance. The sooner you are here, the better, on the chance some problem arises and the entire thing must be called off.
Do arrange to be home, or inform me when you can be home that I might rearrange things accordingly.
Yours,
Henri
Terrell blinked, then read through the letter again, lips pursed thoughtfully. Courtright, yes, even he knew that name. Odd, he'd not realized any of the five sons had not been snapped up. The family was notoriously wealthy, especially for untitled merchants. The Merchant Princes, they were called. Father must be most impressed by this Edlin, to arrange for the marriage only three months after meeting him, and a third son at that.
Well, he had been thinking they would finally have to get around to arranging a suitable marriage this summer. The rate it was going, they could be married and done right around his birthday, when his mother's estates came fully into his possession. Very likely what father intended, very efficient and practical.
End of the month, hmm…he could probably rearrange things easily enough. This time of year, and so far along in his studies, most of his time was his own to study when and how he pleased. Yes, he could—
"Terrell!"
"What?" Terrell jerked, pulled roughly from his thoughts, and realized that Kirian had been calling his name. "Sorry, Kir. What were you saying?"
"I've been asking you what's in the letter."
Terrell handed it over by way of apology. "Father has found me a probably husband. I'm to go home at the end of the month to be formally betrothed. I would imagine if that goes well, the wedding will be this summer."
"Married!" Kirian bellowed in outrage. "What sort of revol—"
Terrell laughed in fond amusement. "Kir, it's quite all right. A bit earlier than I expected, but what does it really matter? This works out much better, really."
"What does it matter?" Kirian demanded. "How can you just sit there and calmly accept your life is being written out for you?"
"Kir," Terrell said. "It is nothing of the sort." He spread his hands, better to display the pin on his jacket that marked him a student of the college, the other three that marked his high status, his specialties. "I am a scholar, I have been practically since I could read, if not sooner. My mother left me her, the youngest, her personal estate when she died. I am not fit to run it. If left to my own devices, I would have it run into the ground before next year. My father and I do not want to see the estate suffer, and he has his hands full—he should not have to care for my responsibilities his whole life. We agreed long ago it would be best if I married someone who could tend Fivecoats properly. I thought we would be discussing the matter of marriage this summer. He simply has taken care of it a bit sooner."
"But—what if he is a cad? A scoundrel? A thief? You have not even met him!"
Kirian looked ready to burst, he was so red-faced and worked up. Terrell flagged a steward to bring them wine, then returned his full attention to his friend. "Kir," he said soothingly. "Please, do not get so angry on my behalf. I promise you this has been my plan as much my father's."
"But—but you don't love him, Terri," Kirian finally burst out.
Terrell laughed, more surprised than perhaps he should be, knowing Kirian as well as he did. "How do I always forget, my friend, what a charming romantic you are? Love is the stuff of stories. Nonsense. It's unrealistic and impractical."
"Impractical," Kirian said scathingly. "You and that blood word—everything must be practical.”
"Yes," Terrell said tersely, a bit stun. He felt things should make sense and serve a purpose. Kirian knew that.
Kirian's enraged expression softened. "I'm sorry, Terri. I know how logical you are, and you know I admire it most of the time. It works well for you. I just…it seems so cold to me. And what if this man is not who or what your father thinks? What if he is an opportunistic bastard? You know nothing about him, and one little weekend at home will not tell you anything. You do not even know what he looks like, and yet you sit there smiling, telling me it's all very practical and reasonable."
"Well, such marriages are the convention," Terrell said calmly. "I should think your aunt and uncle will be working away at one for you—"
"Over my dead body," Kirian snarled. "I will do as my parents did, and marry for love. I can't be as…cool as the rest of you. It's just not in me."
"No," Terrell said fondly, "I suppose it's not, Kir. Your parents were a law unto themselves, of course their son would follow in their footsteps."
Kirian nodded stiffly.
"Be that as it may," Terrell continued, "for myself, I do not see love being especially good at running Fivecoats. I will choose to go with the man my father has chosen, unless he proves to be any of those things you listed. I do not anticipate it, however, my father has a sharp eye for such things."
Kirian threw him hands up in exasperation, and gulped down the freshly poured wine. He scowled as he set the glass down, but a reluctant smile was fighting its way onto his mouth. "Love and practicality are not mutually exclusive, you know."
Terrell smiled himself, and sipped his own wine more sedately. "I am not getting into a debate with you on the matter, Kir. I have plenty of other arguments to arrange, first, if I am to pass this year.
Laughing, Kirian motioned for more wine to be poured, and as easy as that the argument was over—for now, anyway. Terrell knew Kirian would not let the matter rest so easily, not when he was the soppiest romantic Terrell had ever met.
Impractical
"That's quite a bit of post, eh?"
"Hmm?" Terrell looked up absently as he heard the voice of his best friend, Kirian, and saw that Kirian had indeed taken up residence at the seat opposite, and was currently poking and prodding at Terrell's mail. Terrell made a face at the mess, the mail being one thing he did hate going through, even if practicality demanded it be tended. "Yes, bugger it. As if I've not got enough to do."
"Speaking of doing things," Kirian said, "are you attending the Quinton lecture this evening?"
"Attending?" Terrell asked with a snort, and gave up any attempt at studying. Kirian was obviously in the mood to talk, and there was nothing for that save to let Kirian run his course or wait until something else distracted him. "I'm assisting him with the thing, curse my luck. I've half a mind to be drunk while I do it, but that—"
"Would not be practical," Kirian finished for him.
"Precisely," Terrell said with a nod, refusing to be baited. He rolled his eyes as Kirian continued to poke and paw at his mail. "Oh, do leave off. None of that is for you."
"No," Kirian agreed, "but this certainly looks to be a serious matter for you."
Terrell stared in surprise at the envelope Kirian flourished. He knew it on the spot—the scarlet paper, the elegant swan crest pressed into black wax, the short, concise hand…a formal missive from his father, and it looked thick. That boded good or ill.
In no real hurry to discover which, he nevertheless reached out and plucked the envelope from Kirian's fingers, breaking the seal and pulling out a thick fold of what proved to be many sheaves of paper—some of them signed and notarized. Legal documents, then. He set them aside in favor of first reading his father's accompanying letter.
Terrell,
I have arranged a marriage for you. It comes rather suddenly, I know, but I take fortune where I find it. I know you would not be troubled. The informal announcements have been made, I enclosed copies of them in addition to the early contracts being drawn up.
Your betrothed is Edlin Crandall Courtright, the third son of George Courtright. I expect you know the name. He is a good man, intelligent, hardworking, and greatly enthused over the marriage and the opportunities it presents. We met three months ago, during the course of business. He suits the estate and family well, and I believe you will get on together.
I am arranging a formal supper to announce things properly at the end of the this month, both as your husband and the future Steward of Fivecoats Estate. We should, obviously, appreciate your attendance. The sooner you are here, the better, on the chance some problem arises and the entire thing must be called off.
Do arrange to be home, or inform me when you can be home that I might rearrange things accordingly.
Yours,
Henri
Terrell blinked, then read through the letter again, lips pursed thoughtfully. Courtright, yes, even he knew that name. Odd, he'd not realized any of the five sons had not been snapped up. The family was notoriously wealthy, especially for untitled merchants. The Merchant Princes, they were called. Father must be most impressed by this Edlin, to arrange for the marriage only three months after meeting him, and a third son at that.
Well, he had been thinking they would finally have to get around to arranging a suitable marriage this summer. The rate it was going, they could be married and done right around his birthday, when his mother's estates came fully into his possession. Very likely what father intended, very efficient and practical.
End of the month, hmm…he could probably rearrange things easily enough. This time of year, and so far along in his studies, most of his time was his own to study when and how he pleased. Yes, he could—
"Terrell!"
"What?" Terrell jerked, pulled roughly from his thoughts, and realized that Kirian had been calling his name. "Sorry, Kir. What were you saying?"
"I've been asking you what's in the letter."
Terrell handed it over by way of apology. "Father has found me a probably husband. I'm to go home at the end of the month to be formally betrothed. I would imagine if that goes well, the wedding will be this summer."
"Married!" Kirian bellowed in outrage. "What sort of revol—"
Terrell laughed in fond amusement. "Kir, it's quite all right. A bit earlier than I expected, but what does it really matter? This works out much better, really."
"What does it matter?" Kirian demanded. "How can you just sit there and calmly accept your life is being written out for you?"
"Kir," Terrell said. "It is nothing of the sort." He spread his hands, better to display the pin on his jacket that marked him a student of the college, the other three that marked his high status, his specialties. "I am a scholar, I have been practically since I could read, if not sooner. My mother left me her, the youngest, her personal estate when she died. I am not fit to run it. If left to my own devices, I would have it run into the ground before next year. My father and I do not want to see the estate suffer, and he has his hands full—he should not have to care for my responsibilities his whole life. We agreed long ago it would be best if I married someone who could tend Fivecoats properly. I thought we would be discussing the matter of marriage this summer. He simply has taken care of it a bit sooner."
"But—what if he is a cad? A scoundrel? A thief? You have not even met him!"
Kirian looked ready to burst, he was so red-faced and worked up. Terrell flagged a steward to bring them wine, then returned his full attention to his friend. "Kir," he said soothingly. "Please, do not get so angry on my behalf. I promise you this has been my plan as much my father's."
"But—but you don't love him, Terri," Kirian finally burst out.
Terrell laughed, more surprised than perhaps he should be, knowing Kirian as well as he did. "How do I always forget, my friend, what a charming romantic you are? Love is the stuff of stories. Nonsense. It's unrealistic and impractical."
"Impractical," Kirian said scathingly. "You and that blood word—everything must be practical.”
"Yes," Terrell said tersely, a bit stun. He felt things should make sense and serve a purpose. Kirian knew that.
Kirian's enraged expression softened. "I'm sorry, Terri. I know how logical you are, and you know I admire it most of the time. It works well for you. I just…it seems so cold to me. And what if this man is not who or what your father thinks? What if he is an opportunistic bastard? You know nothing about him, and one little weekend at home will not tell you anything. You do not even know what he looks like, and yet you sit there smiling, telling me it's all very practical and reasonable."
"Well, such marriages are the convention," Terrell said calmly. "I should think your aunt and uncle will be working away at one for you—"
"Over my dead body," Kirian snarled. "I will do as my parents did, and marry for love. I can't be as…cool as the rest of you. It's just not in me."
"No," Terrell said fondly, "I suppose it's not, Kir. Your parents were a law unto themselves, of course their son would follow in their footsteps."
Kirian nodded stiffly.
"Be that as it may," Terrell continued, "for myself, I do not see love being especially good at running Fivecoats. I will choose to go with the man my father has chosen, unless he proves to be any of those things you listed. I do not anticipate it, however, my father has a sharp eye for such things."
Kirian threw him hands up in exasperation, and gulped down the freshly poured wine. He scowled as he set the glass down, but a reluctant smile was fighting its way onto his mouth. "Love and practicality are not mutually exclusive, you know."
Terrell smiled himself, and sipped his own wine more sedately. "I am not getting into a debate with you on the matter, Kir. I have plenty of other arguments to arrange, first, if I am to pass this year.
Laughing, Kirian motioned for more wine to be poured, and as easy as that the argument was over—for now, anyway. Terrell knew Kirian would not let the matter rest so easily, not when he was the soppiest romantic Terrell had ever met.
