| Arriving in Firen |
| Summary: | Julieta Scuderio arrives at the Charing Manse in Firen and encounters two (almost three!) members of the extended Quinn family (who are NPCed by Gisela's player). |
| Date: | Octobre 11th, 1866 |
| Related: | Recent Quinn/Julieta related logs; the letter Julieta receives can be found here. |
| NPCs: | {$npc} |
| Players: |
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The promise that Julieta Scuderio would be received at the manse of House Charing in Firen, ephemeral though it was, coming from a Quinn via a Thynne, is redeemed in truth and without question: when Councillor Thynne and his entourage deliver her she is an expected guest, and the upper servant of that manse who comes out swiftly enough to meet in the courtyard the hired horses which have brought them from the docks, mentions in passing that a party from Wayston arrived several hours past and will surely be pleased to see her.
The rooms to which she is shown, a bedchamber and a sitting-room, aren't perhaps the largest or most opulent the manse has to offer: yet they're nothing to put to the blush either a renowned courtesan or a county famed for its elegance and its worldly ways. Julieta's belongings, separated from the rest, are quickly brought up by another way, arriving in the hands of servants whilst she herself is washing her hands in the bowl of cool scented water left for her, reviving herself with the kaffe left likewise, and being assured that a bath shall shortly be drawn for her. The said upper servant, who conducted her here, understands that that is any woman's primary concern, when she has just come off a horse, or a ship, or anything of that nature.
As that exemplary domestic withdraws another voice is heard in the corridor: "Of course, of course, to Baroness Quinn's rooms — she'll be waiting.”
—
The sea travel had indeed been an experience in its own right, the Pearl perhaps not that impervious to the effect of a tide that holds the deck of a ship in constant motion. There had been moments of feeling very very indisposed. Lots of them. And only the fewest bits of what was offered to her in means of food had managed to stay inside, when the majority had been offered as an unintentional gift to the sea, in the very inelegant posture of hanging over the railing. Words cannot express how glad Julieta Scudero was to finally have reached Firen, the sensation of having firm - unmoving - ground beneath her feet most happily welcomed. Wearing her less flashy travel attire, she had mounted the rented horse with effortless grace, an unforgiving glare shot back towards that hideous ship, before she nudged the steed on to follow that of Mattias Thynne. Who would continue on with his retainers, once the Pearl had been successfully delivered to the Charing Manse.
Hazel eyes flicker about as she takes in the two rooms granted to her - a luxury she may not have expected. The servant offer to have a bath drawn will be met with a grateful smile. “Thank you.” She is about to close the door behind the servant as she hurries away, when the words uttered on the corridor draw her attention. The Pearl’s curiosity is definitely stirred. She steps out onto the corridor to catch a glimpse of the person who said them.
—
That upper servant, a woman attired in a modest gown in Charing colours of blue trimmed with white and touches of yellow, is waving away a younger male servant bearing a covered tray. Upon seeing Julieta's door opening again when she only just drawn it to herself, she folds her hand before her waist and inquires, correctly: "Mistress Scuderio…?" The man with the tray vanishes along the corridor.
—
“The Baroness?”, Mistress Scuderio asks. “She is here, in Firen?” The flicker in her hazel eyes intrigued, to say the least. Her gaze flits down, over her attire, and a faint frown appears on her comely features. Hazel eyes lift again to focus on the upper servant, before her gaze flits to where the young man with the tray has disappeared.
—
Naturally the servant expects that Mistress Scuderio, of all people, is acquainted with the arrangements. "But of course, Mistress," she murmurs; "she arrived several hours past, with Lady Vivona and Lady Felicia, and their women. Did you wish—?" A discreet inquiry, which Julieta may complete according to her wishes.
—
“To see her. Yes I would very much like to,” replies the Pearl. “But I should at least change into something more appropriate. Mayhaps you could inquire with her ladyship,” a faint smirk curls Julieta’s lips as she says that particular word, “when she would have time for me? I am aware that drawing a bath will take some time. If her ladyship deems this urgent enough, I could delay my bath for her sake.”
—
The servant curtseys. "I shall inquire, Mistress, while your bath is prepared." She seems unaware of any irony, or any cause for amusement.
A minute later there's a knock and when Julieta answers it an enormous bathtub is rolled into her bedchamber and set up before the fireplace — it is October. It is followed by a string of maids bearing two buckets of hot water apiece, in the usual fashion. The bath is full and steaming, and fragrant soap and a sponge have been laid out, and a pair of enormous white towels are warming on a rack before the well-stoked fire before word comes that, in fact, Baroness Quinn will receive Mistress Scuderio after her bath.
—
Very well. Julieta will be the last to object. Hazel eyes flicker with appreciation as she watches the tub being brought in, and then watches the maids working hard to fill it. Once such has been accomplished, she will wait until the maids have left the room, she will get out of her travel attire, depositing it over a chair, while she already has laid out a dress in lavender colour, she is to wear later. on the bed. The bath will be enjoyed, the soap certainly used as well as the sponge; while the Pearl finally starts to feel human again, relaxing in the hot water, as she recovers from the hardships of the sea voyage.
—
When it has become apparent that this particular guest brought no serving-maid of her own, a girl in House Charing's employ not only brings her a light meal on a tray but stays to unpack her belongings, to see what requires laundering or ironing, to scrub her back, wash her hair, help her dress: in short, whatever Julieta requires today, as she explains in a murmur, bobbing a curtsey. She's waited now and again upon lesser ladies of the nobility, but a courtesan—? The rumour having spread through the manse, its entire staff are either variously agog, or pretending hard not to be.
—
The Pearl will be quite appreciative for the attention, a warm smile offered to the maid i n question that may mutter inwardly at her fate to wait on a commoner woman. The dresses she has brought along will certainly show off an exquisite quality, and perhaps look surprisingly modest compared to what a housemaid may have imagined. Attending to the courtesan during her bath may have indeed been a different experience to others, the maid for once washing the beautiful long hair of a woman who capitalizes on her looks; scrubbing the unblemished alabaster skin of a renowned beauty. Julieta accepts the attentions she is not exactly used to with amiable gratitude. And when she finally is attired in the fine lavender dress of her choosing, her hair orderly made in a fashionable hairdo, the courtesan had to offer instructions on, she sends the maid away, with a smile and warm words of thanks. And the message for the Baroness, that Julieta would now be in an appropriate state to pay her respects.
—
A different serving woman, her livery Quinn rather than Arkanin and loose about a plump, voluptuous body, her face excessively youthful and pretty (she can't be a day over eighteen) and framed by golden hair, answers that message. And thus Julieta is shown along one corridor and into another.
The maid moves swiftly, rustlingly ahead, to conspire with the honour guard posted outside the double doors at the end of this long, airy passageway. Nods are exchanged; she steps back, well out of the way, and the two men together throw open the doors as she calls, "Mistress Julieta Scuderio."
The chamber beyond is one of surpassing grandeur. But therein Julieta finds only two fires blazing high and, between them, a tall, tremendously slender woman who can hardly be less than seventy years of age. Her pure white hair is dressed in the first style of elegance; likewise her gown of dove-grey satin, modestly yet fashionably cut, with the finest and costliest lace spilling in plenitude over gnarled hands which are yet long-fingered and perfectly pale. She doesn't rise from the chair in which she sits so straight, her head held high above a throat wrapped with row upon row of black pearls — in every inch of her person she is the daughter of one old, old noble house; and the matriarch now of another — but she lifts one of those hands in a languid gesture of welcome, and regards Julieta with vivid green eyes which gleam with intelligence. (Or dare we say, cunning—?) For all the Pearl of Four Corners has come to know of the nobility of two kingdoms, she has perhaps not met such a lady as this. They simply attend very different parties.
"Mistress Scuderio," she murmurs, in a high, soft soprano voice which betrays refinement with every syllable it utters. "My daughter has spoken well of you to me." Her demeanour is so poised, so pristine, as to be almost unreadable — all one really has to go upon is her words. And they offer nothing but the reserved courtesy with which such a lady greets any who come before her. If she has her own opinions (she must?) she has spent more than half a century disguising them, in service to her lineage and its desires.
—
The Pearl follows along as she is led towards the chambers of the Baroness, lowering her gaze when the maid confers with the two guards, only to have her gaze flit back up as the double doors are pushed open and her name is announced. The grandeur of the chamber she may have expected. What she did not expect is the sight of a woman in her seventies who is completely unknown to her. Hazel eyes widen, and Julieta exhales, keeping most of her composure only due to her training. Even so the amiable smile that curls her lips seems to freeze for a brief spell of a moment, and even she herself, in all her beauteous entirety.
The hand that is lifted in greeting reminds the courtesan of her manners, and she lowers herself into a curtesy, executed with practiced effortless grace, her brown eyes lowered. “Your Ladyship.”, she returns the greeting in an unobtrusive and respectful manner. Remaining in that curtsey for a moment to give it enough emphasis, before she straightens, and meets the Dowager Baroness’s keen gaze. The remark about the ladyship’s daughter is received with a smile and a slight flicker in her eyes. “Your daughter is not here? I had hoped…”, she pauses, “that she was among that party who has arrived from Murias, especially when I heard one of the servants speak of a Baroness Quinn…” Why deny the obvious? “Even so,” and here her smile deepens, “I am glad to make your acquaintance.”
—
Perhaps it's that faint suggestion of affection for her absent daughter, amidst the formidably good manners of this young woman foisted upon her…? The Dowager Baroness reacts not immediately but slowly, the mask of her once-beautiful face unchanging as she selects, for her use, certain words. "… It may be, Mistress Scuderio, that you are not as well-acquainted with the situation as I had supposed. Nonetheless, I understand that as my daughter's friend," and she says it without a hesitation, without a tremour, "you have been drawn unwillingly into this quarrel of ours with the northerners. Please understand that under such circumstances you may find sanctuary in my household for as long as you wish. The manse of House Charing is open to you, and we shall see to your requirements."
—
Julieta waits until the Dowager Baroness has finished with what she has to say. “I am very well aware of at least some of the situation. After all, one of our Councillors at Four Corners is involved in this, a man…” she bites her lip, “who seems to have threatened my person in a letter he wrote to your daughter. I am grateful for the offer of sanctuary, and in fact I came to accept it.” The use of the word ‘friend’ does not seem to surprise the Pearl overly much, when only the faintest twitch of her brows occurs in acknowledgment. She regards the Dowager Baroness with a kind smile. “Thank you.”
—
Yes, 'friend' is a fine word for it. The word used in the correspondence between the Baronesses Quinn, past and present; the word they employ to cover a multitude of sins they wish not to discuss in detail or in depth…
The particular Baroness Quinn presently facing Julieta inclines her elegant pale head to seal the compact between them. And then, after a pause the length of a breath, during which she seems to be thinking over what she sees, she adds: "You are most welcome, Mistress Scuderio.
"Yet whatever other news of our situation," and that, it seems, is the appointed word for that, for a war which has already taken the lives of hundreds, "may have reached you in your own city, I deduce you are not aware that my daughter has for some weeks served as the general of House Arkanin's forces in the field," that lady's mother utters with a tranquillity studied though no less impressive for that. "Some— thousands of men," she explains, lifting her hand again in a gesture dismissive of the importance of that detail; "I am not certain of their numbers, and I should not utter such if I did know. Naturally her duty requires her to remain with her army, rather than escorting the ladies of her house to Firen — and obliges her, above that, to ensure that certain hostages cannot be used against her."
—
Hazel eyes linger on the Dowager Baroness, as Julieta listens to the situation as presented by the mother of her dear acquaintance, before her gaze becomes distant for a moment. “I see,” is offered, in a definitely pensive tone. And then, after another moment: “I wasn’t aware of this… Master Thynne hinted that she was among the forces fighting the d’Armaz, but I had no idea she is leading the Arkanin forces.” Her hazel-brown eyes flicker, as if this piece of news sets her own peril into a new context. A nod comes, and a glance that is shot the Dowager Baroness’s way. “She is well, I hope?” The question pertaining of course to any bruises sustained in the act of leading such an army; it is uttered with a slightly breathless concern.
—
Such an air of genuine concern for her elder surviving daughter does much to bring the Dowager Baroness into charity with the 'friend' thus introduced into her household. "I have not seen my daughter since before my nephew appointed her to her present position," she explains quietly, "though I understand that a week ago she was well, quite well." After another pause of her own — with no discomfort or hesitation implied therein, no sense of a gap she feels obliged to fill, only a stillness perfected over many years, a quiet contemplation of Julieta's face and form and the new worry in her fine hazel eyes — she unbends far enough to add, "I had not thought to receive such news again myself. But my daughter Gisela has always found her own path." And if Julieta had doubted this woman was a born diplomat…
—
“I see,” Julieta Scuderio replies, lowering her gaze, her lips curling into a slightly relieved smile when she takes in what little news the Dowager Baroness has to offer. The latter remark has her lifts her eyes again. “I would believe it to be so, Your Ladyship. From what I’ve learned about her character through our encounters, I would not expect her to be someone to back away from the threat of battle, if it is required.” A bit of cautious praise given there by the courtesan for Gisela’s character, and well… in fact her genuine assessment. There is a moment of silence, the Pearl considering on how to continue.
“Your Ladyship. I have two further questions, as it is you who has granted me the sanctuary of this manse during my stay. I am allowed to move freely about, within and without this place? I assure you,” she adds with the ghost of a wink, “I am quite versed in the rules of courtesy, and could even add a bit of entertainment to evenings spent here. I am quite proficient with the lute, if one could be procured. I also sing occasionally. If any of such would be agreeable to you.” She shifts ever so slightly in her stance, displaying some of that casual grace that is characteristic for someone who has received extensive lessons in dancing.
“The other thing I wished to inquire about… I would like to write to your daughter of my safe arrival. Is it possible to send my message along with your next letters, Your Ladyship?”, Julieta adds after another moment, her hazel eyes lingering on the Dowager Baroness with an expression that is very close to modesty.
—
The answer comes swiftly this time. "You are my guest; you are under no obligation, Mistress Scuderio, and no restriction," the Dowager Baroness Quinn stresses, lifting one ancient, pallid hand in a gesture of reassurance. "When you wish it my guards will accompany you forth from here, to ensure your safety in the city streets — when you remain within these walls, your music would, I am certain, be a welcome pleasure to our company. My lute is at your disposal should you wish it." Not that an audience so prominently featuring an elderly noblewoman who herself pursues that art, could precisely be considered to encourage a young courtesan… But there we are. "I shall write tomorrow to my daughter. If you wish to enclose a missive of your own with our others, please simply see that it is brought to me before noon."
—
The assurance of the Dowager Baroness is met with a nod and the hint of a curtsey, a smile playing across the corners of her mouth, when Julieta replies: “That is very kind of you, Your Ladyship, and a gesture truly appreciated.” This said in regards to the lute, little intimidated as the Pearl appears to be by the prospect to live in the same Manse as another lute player of so far unknown proficiency. “And an entertainment I will gladly provide.”Which, under other circumstances, would come quite costly. Another nod comes indeed to the remark regarding the letter. “I shall, Your Ladyship.”, Julieta assures. “If there is nothing else you wish to inquire or inform me about, I shall return to my chambers and pen that letter right away to have it ready on the morrow.”
If she is indeed dismissed, the Pearl of Four Corners will lower herself into a curtsey and then leave through the doors through which she had been admitted.
—
Well, if Julieta's music would be costly, then so would the genuinely open-ended hospitality she has been offered here — not only two rooms to call her own, but the use of servants, guards, couriers… Generous accommodations have been made on both sides; and perhaps that contributes to the ease with which, having been offered no more than her due, the Dowager Baroness, Auvadia Quinn, lifts her hand again to usher Julieta Scuderio from her chambers.
"Of course. You'll wish to rest, and be at your ease. We shall meet again, I'm certain; until then, please know, Mistress Scuderio, you are welcome here."
And when Julieta steps out and passes along the corridor again, away from the guards and toward a distant staircase, she finds someone hovering as though doing her level best to blend into a tapestry. The girl called Ilaria, 'the grand-daughter of my Uncle Gaufrid', whose precise position in Gisela's own household was never made wholly clear — who has fine dark eyes, simple but fetching gowns, and (just now) an air of hanging about waiting.
"Mistress Scuderio?" she asks softly. Not that she's forgotten the beauteous creature she peeked at once in Four Corners. And then: "I have a letter for you," she admits. She produces it from beneath her shawl, showing the Quinn seal in green wax from which its authorship may be inferred.
—
Neither has that beauteous creature forgotten one of those two young maidens she saw on the staircase after entering the manse in Four Corners, and later, in the study, where Ilaria had presented Gisela with an ominous letter of Vivona, and given Julieta a curious glance.
“Ilaria, was it?”, Julieta intones as she pauses in her steps, offering an encouraging smile to the girl, as she extends her hand to accept the letter that is held out to her. The Pearl’s eyes flit to the seal, her smile deepening in recognition of it. Her hazel gaze shifts back to Ilaria’s features and she remarks in a half-question: “From Baroness Gisela?”
—
Ilaria flushes gorgeously with the pleasure of being remembered. "Yes," she agrees; "Sir Gisela gave it to me in Murias, a week past, before we all set off."
And before she can continue another voice is heard, distantly, echoing, and the girl's hand is on Julieta's arm to pull her into an adjacent chamber. Dark, and musty — the furniture covered in pale sheets. She presses the door shut as quietly as she can and leans back against it. "Aunt Felicia," she apologises in the gloom; "do let's just wait here till she's gone past." Her air is that of one who has accomplished a rescue.
—
That flush of a maiden’s cheeks catches Julieta’s eye for a moment, perhaps because it is not a deliberate act, and just a true and oh so prompt echo of Ilaria’s feelings. The Pearl’s fingers tighten about the letter, when its author is confirmed, and she nods - only to find herself suddenly being pulled along into an adjacent chamber, an act which the courtesan will not object against. Her hazel eyes will study Ilaria with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “Aunt Felicia?”, she echoes. “Should I be wary of her?”
—
Family loyalty wars against genuine distaste — and Ilaria hasn't a courtesan's practice in concealing her true feelings. She makes a slight face (hardly discernible, really, in here) and admits, in a voice not much more than a breath, "Probably best not to see too much of her, she's a little… Well, anyway." The girl sighs and moves further into the dark chamber, cautious step upon cautious step, looking for the faint outlines of… a window. She twitches the curtains slightly and causes a ray of light to spill in upon them. "I like your gown," she adds wistfully, her own being of pale green linen, old-fashioned and modest, yet well-cut in its way.
—
“Hmm?” Julieta raises a brow, which in the poor lighting may only be discernible through that slightly inquiring sound she makes. She will remain where she is, not daring enough to explore a dark chamber she is not familiar with. Her face is turned towards the window once it is - at least in some small part - revealed, allowing some light to enter the chamber. “Of course you do,” the courtesan replies with a voice that shows off some friendly warmth, her own gaze flitting briefly over Ilaria’s modest attire. She will consider the maiden for a moment, before she asks: “What exactly is your position in this household?” Which could pertain to relational bonds as well as actual status.
—
That question calls Ilaria back to the remembrance of the position which, by sheer fate, is her own to make the best of. She adjusts her skirts needlessly and bobs a shallow curtsey. The light behind her makes of her a silhouette rather than a true and discernible young woman; she explains in a murmur, "My name is Ilaria Fane, mistress. I wait upon Lady Vivona. Sir Gisela's daughter, and my cousin."
—
The introduction is accepted with an incline of her head. Julieta studies Ilaria with a bit of curiosity as she digests the information. “So Lady Vivona is here then as well, presently?”, the courtesan asks. Further questions remaining unspoken for once, when the fact of Vivona being Ilaria’s cousin and the young woman’s bearing and tone, lacking the usual haughtiness a woman of noble birth would display when speaking to a commoner, leave interesting implications.
—
Footsteps move past; Ilaria seems to be listening. "Yes… yes, she's here, of course, mistress," confirms this girl who, whatever her surname, seems to be some sort of Quinn. "We all came down the Kent. Not the Copper, the Kent's safer just at present… Well, you know," she says with a smile which can, with that light at her back, only be inferred from her voice. "If we…" And her skirts rustle as she flits to the door… "There," she sighs with relief, hearing the echo of the great double doors somewhere beyond, closing now just as their opening summoned her across the chamber, "she's in with Her Ladyship. I hope you don't mind, mistress, but I know you just came off a ship yourself, and Aunt Felicia can be— exhausting."
—
As her gaze follows Ilaria towards the door the courtesan gets certainly a better view of the maiden, and it will be her now, who may be little more than a silhouette to the young woman when she turns to look in Julieta’s direction. “I understand,” the Pearl intones softly, a hint of amusement in her tone. “And I believe I owe you my thanks then, Ilaria.” The smile more heard than seen, as Mistress Scuderio moves gracefully towards the door, the letter still in hand. “Shall we?”
—
"You're very welcome."
As she speaks the bundle of graceful adolescent energy which is done up in a green linen frock and answers to the name 'Ilaria Fane' darts back to the window, conscientiously twitches the curtains shut again upon this disused apartment, and finds her way with a hand outstretched to the door opposite. This she opens a crack, peeks out of, and then holds wide open for Julieta's passage. It is smoothly done; she is more accustomed to waiting upon others than receiving favours herself.
—
The courtesan will glide out onto the hallway in elegant silence, a smile and nod of thanks offered to Ilaria as she pauses and turns, to murmur in a low conspiratorial manner: “I believe I have a letter to read, and another to write.” Her hand with the letter is raised, a brow lifted and with the ghost of a wink - inferring the experience just shared has made them accomplices of some kind - the Pearl moves towards the stairs, to return to the chambers that have been granted to her for her stay.