|
The day dawns bright, and Bryn was up early. She's almost always up early, in fact, too many things to squeeze into one day for her to risk sleeping too late. Early mornings generally mean chores, and today she seems to be working on laundry as she bustles out of the family manor house and into the courtyard, humming quietly to herself.
Failed.
Joachim checked his hunting of 7, he rolled 12.
There are chores to be done by everyone - even the heir of the manor. While he was able to catch some fish from the river, it is nowhere near the haul that he should be used to carrying in as the knight has a small net slung with some small fish - good for stewing, not so much for open flame cooking. As he's crossing the courtyard, he notices his cousin and he gives a polite smile. "Good morrow, Bryn. I hope the weather holds for the clothes to dry proper." Especially with as notoriously thick that Newton wool is.
Bryn pauses in her task, eyes shifting upwards the look at the sky, considering it, "It honestly should hold." She glances at his catch, frowning a little, "It seems that your morning has not gone as well as expected, however."
"I believe I heard a pagan once say that a day of fishing and catching naught is still better than a day of hard work. I don't believe that to be true any longer." Joachim offers with a thin smile. "When I have put these fish away, I will come to help with the laundry - or at least keep you company. I would like to speak with you and see how you are faring with autumn approaching."
Bryn glances down at the basket of laundry, then back towards him with a nod, "Certainly." She replies, turning back to the task at hand to start hanging the first of the clothes up.
With a nod, Joachim goes to turn in his rather pitiful haul, but the kitchen staff can stretch it with a good stew. Returning after a few minutes after Bryn is done with the hanging, the knight dusts his hands against his breeches. "Come sit with me for a bit, Bryn." he says. "I must confess, I am slightly glad that you may be wintering here with us, as Lydia could use a friend during the winter months to converse with - she may get tired of talking with me after a while."
Bryn finishes hanging up the shift that she was working, wiping her hands off before she starts over to a place to sit, settling herself down on it easily. She smooths her hands over her dress, wiping away any wrinkles before she folds her hands, "I'm sure that she would not get tired of talking with you. But I'm glad that I will be here with her, she seems to be quite wonderful."
"Though that begs the question - should I speak with father to dissolve your betrothal to Winterbourne Stoke?" Joachim asks as he frowns a little. "It is shameful that a man not honor his obligations and give no reason for such." he admits with a frown as he folds his hands together. "And I feel this begs the question - do you wish to be asked to honor a marriage to be set up in haste, or would you prefer to wait for the spring when you have the time to prepare yourself properly for marriage."
The question seems to cause her to frown even more, an almost unhappy expression as she considers both the words, and the weight that those words hold. After a moment she simply nods, her shoulders slumping very slightly. "It is perhaps for the best to have it dissolved. I do not know the reasons that he has never contacted us after the arrangements were made, I'm sure that he has very good reasons for it, however. As for a future marriage…I will abide by what Uncle says."
"I doubt father will be pleased with the decision - or with Winterbourne Stoke for their hemming and hawing and delays at thier heir meeting with you, Bryn. And the fault for that lies with him, not you." Joachim says firmly, taking his cousin's hands to give them a light squeeze. "Any reason he gives now, months after the fact, are not good reason. As far as future marriage goes.. you have never been anything but a good member of the family and I see no reason to force you into a new betrothal so soon after this one. But I will speak with father. I believe he will be amicable for you to wait until the spring, if you decide. However, I know this is the season for betrothals.." he says with a light laugh, his own is included in that lot, "…and if you wish to tempt fate again, we can certainetly attempt to try to find you a new match."
"I'm not sure if I wish to try after this experience." Bryn replies with the ghost of a smile crossing her face, "And I would accept a reasonable explination of why. But since there has been nothing but silence since the match, I doubt that there will be anything coming from this."
"I know it probably hurts at the moment, Bryn.. but there will be other opprotunities. Surely you do not think if one fool does not realize what he has passed upon that someone else will not come along to realize what a good soul and Lady you are and take your hand." Joachim sighs and shakes his head as the knight sits with Bryn on a bench in the courtyard, conversing quietly. "But I will not press upon you the duty for the moment. I would, however, suggest that you take some time to find your feet again, and wait until the spring for a possible match."
"It does not hurt." Bryn assures him, glancing over at him before she shakes her head once more, "I find it more troublesome and perhaps a little insulting. But I'm not hurt by it. He does not know me, so this could not possibly have been personal." She seems to be quite certain of that, even if it's for her own peace of mind.
The force of nature that is Vesper de Newton has taken on a Queenly suffering of late. She strolls into the courtyard at her leisure, a pair of guards trailing after her. Her hands are plaited before her, wrists held together and in front of her, as if imaginary shackles surround them. Her dainty, slicing chin is tipped up, her nose high in the air. She heaves nothing but a dramatic sigh, unable to hold her complete silence as she approaches the bench.
"It is quite insulting to the house, I'll admit." Joachim responds. "One does not make a match and negotiate the terms, just to back away with no reason or apology given. This slight will not be soon forgotten, cousin." he promises, as Vesper makes her grand entrance, and the knight just shakes his head, perhaps amused as the display. "Hullo, sister. You have completed your chores for the day without distraction?" he asks. "Early at that. See what a liitle focus may do for you?" And not trying to stable one of the horse groomers.
"I'm sure there are reasons." Bryn seems to be quite set on the idea that they clearly have to have reasons, good ones. Even if they don't. When Vesper comes close enough she glances towards her cousin, her head tilting, "I could use help with the laundry if you are available."
One of the guard steps forward, clearing his throat. "She's not done them, Sir," he tells Joachim, while Vesper remains regally silent, an air of her own amusement hidden beneath that austere exterior. "She claims her hands pain her, and, in her words, Sir, her hands are her livelihood and she wishes not to destroy them further." He takes a humble step backwards and Vesper makes a pleased little nod, before her eyes drift to Bryn. "My hands, you see, cousin." There's a pointedly glance to her brother.
"Any reason given at this point is a good reason. They only owe us apologies at this point." Joachim starts to say when the knight makes his report. The heir's jaw tightens a little, and he glances at the guard. "The next time she suggests such, remove her hands, and then she will no longer need to be concerned with her profession, only her service as a good wife." he snaps in agitation, looking to Vesper. "The games are over, Vesper." he feels his agitation rising and pushes to his feet. "If you do not mind, I have things to attend to. I will make sure to talk to father, Bryn, in your favor." With that, he turns to leave, the look of disappointment he gives Vesper.. it's heartbreaking, really. She's let him down, so badly.
They are siblings, after all, and the look Vesper shoots Joachim as he departs is a mirror of his own. "But however shall I be a good wife without hands?" she stings him sweetly, and there is no small measure of innuendo in the haughty words. "Fare well, 'Chim. God go with you, big brother." That, at least, sounds sincere.
Bryn's eyes widen just fraction before she gets to her feet, "I should get back to my chores before the day gets too advanced. If you need help, you can come find me."