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finalflight2016-11-30 10:45 pm
hedgemaze) wrote in finalflight2016-11-30 10:45 pm
Entry tags:
psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]
THE AUBEL ESTATE is located in Derbyshire, England, a stately old home reminiscent of centuries long past. Long ago, it had fallen into disrepair and abandoned until previous generations of the Aubel family purchased the land for themselves, having found their fortunes in matters of real estate. Since that time, the outside has been restored and the inside has been renovated at least three times. Four, if you ask the uncle who remembers the one summer where the chandelier fell from the dining hall, taking a large portion of the ceiling with it. How embarrassing, if such a thing is true.
In its present state, it straddles the line between the old and new. The large, prominent rooms are ostentatious as they are filled to the brim with austere English culture; the smaller quarters, traditionally used by the servants and staff, are far more modest, and over time have allowed the tendrils of modernity to creep in as a result. Regardless, the home is impressive no matter how you look at it, and there are few who do not cast an envious glance at the estate as they pass by Derbyshire on their way to town, or perhaps northwest to Manchester, if they've even farther to go.
PHILIP AND JAMES AUBEL, father and son respectively, are the owners of the home, though only the father remains for any extended period of time. And even then, he only stays perhaps one or two seasons at a time, until he returns to his home in London, spending one or two seasons there, before returning again, living out his life of retirement to the fullest. James visits nearly every week (driving in from Manchester, and back) in the Spring, until the first freeze of Winter, when nothing will grow. Though they have a staff of two dozen -- give or take, depending upon the time of year -- taking care of the estate and its grounds, James is more diligent about keeping up appearances of the house, showing a special interest in maintaining the complex hedge maze on the land directly behind them. Only he keeps access to its center, a literal walled garden of seasonal flora.
AS RECENT DEVELOPMENTS WOULD HAVE IT, James has been drawn into an arranged marriage by his father and an old business acquaintance. She is scheduled for an extended visit soon, and the staff have done a meticulous job of preparing the hall for her arrival -- and the rest of the rooms, as well, if she is expected to make her living here permanent, one day. Today, the weather is clear and the help is eager to aid her in unpacking. The grounds are green and the family dog, an old greyhound with cataracts in one eye, bounds up to her with a slow wagging tail. The father will greet her, of course, with all the usual formalities, and though he doesn't know her all that well at all, she at least seems nice enough. He disappears soon after, leaving her to her own devices as she sees fit. James himself is nowhere to be found.
Somewhere, sooner rather than later, a collision course of first impressions will take place.
D I R E C T O R Y;
➤ shitpost.
➤ first impressions.
➤ diamonds.
➤ text her, texter.
➤ saviour.
➤ flirt.
➤ closer.
➤ cross-examine.
➤ PARTY CRASHERS.
✶ elle + devon
✶ elle + corvus
✶ ian + james + corvus
✶ devon + james
➤ alien abduction.
➤ sleep now.
➤ bathe.
➤ remember.
➤ drink.
➤ welcome home.
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They reach the foyer area of the house, footsteps echoing with each stride he takes. The click-clack of a canine’s toenails continue to trail them, though Simon seems to lose interest soon after, curling up on a rug beside the stairs.]
…No, it doesn’t. The decision has already been made. [He looks at her, as if trying to puzzle out why she seemed to be judging him.] Don’t get me wrong, I liked your cousin as much as any other man might have. She seemed intelligent and pleasant enough. But I wasn’t exactly in love with her; all things considered, she was just a stranger. Just like I am to you, and you are to me. The situation hasn’t changed, not as much as some might think. The individuals have just switched places.
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Fair enough. I don't dwell on what's past. I'm already an ocean away at this point.
I do hope you don't think that Lucy and I are a one to one as people though.
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[He grins again, this time a bit crooked and smug. He hardly expects them to be the same, but he does expect to feel the same way about both of them: mostly ambivalent, but enough to remain cool and civil towards. Her lack of response makes him feel comfortable in assuming this; he doesn’t bother reading further into her emotions this time.]
Anyway, this is probably where you were accosted by the staff—
[He motions at the foyer, and the tour begins properly. He shows her all the rooms on the first floor, first — the studies, the dining room, the living areas, the kitchens and the guest quarters, etc. Once that’s all said and done, he leads her upstairs. Simon remains sleeping on the floor below.]
This, I think, is your room. Though I might be redundant in showing it to you; you've already been inside? [They’re on a second floor hallway, one done-up in austere decor. He opens a door to a spacious bedroom — it’s a step above a guest room, but certainly not as grand the master bedroom, nor his own. Still, it’s hardly anything to scoff at. He watches her reaction carefully.] I think everyone was safe to assume you’d want your own… place to sleep, right?
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As they go to the second floor and to her room, Devon makes sure that there's enough floor space so she can spread out for... Projects. She'll need to inquire if there's an unused room that she can go hog wild in.
And at James's question, without missing a beat, she answers promptly.]
It was nice and thoughtful for everyone to think of that. I'll have to find a way to show off my proper thanks.
[Zing.
Selectively oblivious? Already prepared with an answer?? Sincere?????
Sometimes, it's hard to tell with Devon.]
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He chuckles a little to himself, but doesn't explain why. Instead:]
No need for that. Your own room is the least anyone can do, in a house that you'll be living in.
[He motions down the hall.] When I'm visiting and you can't locate me, I'm probably in my own room. It's just down the hall, to your right. My father sleeps on the second floor as well, but at the opposite end of the estate.
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A gaze is cast towards James's room and she nods.]
Gotcha. It's all clear to me, so that just leaves the grounds of the estate right?
[(also what's the wifi, the truly important question that she decides not to ask yet, it seems so improper even for her in this situation)]
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On a day like this, it'd be a crime not to show you.
[Eventually they'll make their way to the grounds, green as far as the eye can see. It's obvious that a lot of effort is put into making everything seem immaculate. James leads her around the perimeter of the house.]
There's a rose garden just down there. During the spring and summer, they attract the largest bees you've ever seen, but they're usually harmless. And as you can see, there's more than enough room to go for a morning walk, and with how open it is, someone on the second floor of the house could see you, from all the way out here.
[He inclines his head towards the hedge maze in the distance, large and imposing. He couldn't pretend to ignore that.] Unless you get lost in there. Don't.
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With how big the grounds are, it's perfect for a morning jog too.
[When he acknowledges the hedge mage, she pauses to look at it. Something about it feels...]
... Definitely won't go jogging there though.
[But back to what she wanted to ask.]
What kind of roses are grown here?
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Roses, though. He lists them off easily.]
Madam Isaac Peirre, Aloha, Windrush. Tuscany. Your basic Snowdrift. And a few others.
[Someone seems to like gardening...]
You like roses? A bit cliche.
[Pot, kettle....]
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I'm from Portland, Oregon. The City of Roses? If I didn't have a small appreciation from the city with a garden of 7000 plus species, I'd have to rethink my life.
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[What. God, he's never been to Portland before. He should. Maybe he can take a business trip there soon? Or come up with a reason to visit the in-laws? How big are their gardens? How can he-]
I... right. I had forgotten. In that case, I don't think this garden will be very impressive to you.
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I don't know. We'll see about it when the Tuscany ones bloom. It's a good piece of home as any.
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Can't wait to hear your critique, then. The groundskeepers work hard to keep up appearances. Many of the plants here take up most of their efforts.
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It's good. The care put into the garden I mean.
[It's barely been an hour, much less a day, but Devon has some observations about James Aubel so far: frustratingly and rudely point blank with his remarks, but probably had those looks that helped him get away with it in his work and social life, especially with women. The latter, she doesn't know if he has a high opinion on, but enjoys their company nonetheless. Works a lot, but knows when to prioritize, such as getting her acquainted with the estate.
And he was kind of dumb with how others were feeling. She'd rap him on the back of his head if she could, for Lucy's sake even though her cousin would never talk to her again either way.
Without meaning to, she yawns lightly, and her hand moves to cover her mouth.]
Whoops. Sorry, everything's gorgeous here, but the jet lag's being persistent.
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If by "putting them up to it" you mean "pay them well", then yes. I do. But maybe I am a bit biased. I've always been a little fascinated by things that spring up from the soil.
[But he supposes that was neither here nor there. He frowns when a wave of tiredness suddenly washes through him, and when he sees her yawn, he realizes why.]
You're just trying to say I'm boring you, aren't you? I understand.
[He smirks, before turning to head back inside. In that case, he can consider his duty done for the day.] Go back to your room and take a long nap.
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As they go back inside, she does have one or two more things to mention...]
I do have a question. More like... Are there any unused rooms in the estate? Not like a guestroom, I mean a room that isn't used for any purpose really.
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A room with no purpose? That's specific. What would you need it for?
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[She pauses when he does. And then she holds up her hand to list off a few more...]
Drawing. Printmaking. Sewing if Mom sends over my machine in the next few weeks. Pewter casting if I get really ambitious. Ceramics if I get an itch for it again.
...
...
Mostly painting though. Don't worry, I can get supplies myself.
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So... you're saying you want studio space, is that it?
[She's an artist, then? Suddenly he's curious what her work is like -- but only passingly so, honest.]
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Yeah, that's it! I wasn't sure if there was a room that could serve that purpose, so I thought I'd ask. I'd use my room otherwise.
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[He frowns for a moment, thinking. There's only the smallest moment of hesitation before he says:] Follow me. Again. [And he leads her up the stairs to the second floor again, to another long hallway. At the end, there's another room, and James opens the door.
It's empty... more or less. There's a armoire or two in the corner, covered up with a white sheet, and a lamp without a shade propped against the wall. But barring that, the room is empty, whatever personality it possessed years ago drained dry. It's a bit dusty, as if the men and women who cleaned paid little attention to this particular room -- either on direct orders, or simply because it was merely an empty storage area and did not require the attention.]
Would this do?
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Perfect. It's better than what I would have hoped for.
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Good. It's about time this mausoleum of a room found life again.
[Because this was once his mother's room, all those years ago. He won't tell her that much. It might unsettle her, and honestly, it's not a line of conversation he particularly wants to go down.
He won't step in, but he'll gesture in a mockery of a fake bow from where he stands.]
All yours to do whatever you want with.
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[None the wiser, she walks outside, ready to retire to her room. Speaking of rest though? Devon's been avoiding the subject, but there's only so long before it comes up again especially if it starts up again.]
I'm... Going to keep my door locked at night.
[She purses her lips as she clasps her hands together.]
I haven't done any sleepwalking... That I'm aware of for the past few months, but. Better safe than sorry.
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His frown returns. An interesting problem to deal with, one that he had been warned about ahead of time.]
Right. Have you ever hurt yourself while sleepwalking? This place is large and unfamiliar to you, after all.
[Though he has no emotional attachment to her, he's not so big of a jerk that he'd want her to go tumbling down the stairs or anything like that.]
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