Arthur, however, let out a short chuckle. “Of course, Scott, whatever you say.” He redirected his attention to Bridget, smiling broadly and saying, “And how is your needle point going, dear cousin?”
“As well as can be expected, dear cousin,” Bridget replied, in a sweet little voice that almost shocked Francis. It was far cry from the deeper tones of her normal voice, the pretend-grown-up authoritativeness of the tone he’d met in the sitting room.
“Very good. I dare say you shall be married within a month of reaching the proper age, and to a fine family indeed,” Arthur said, patting his lips with his napkin.
“Thank you, dear cousin,” she chirped back, delicately taking a bite of half a slice of carrot.
It was curious. It seemed everyone had their demeanor changed around Arthur; Scott became angrier, Rhys became more timid, Bridget became more girlish and childlike… What did he act like that was different around Arthur? More calculating and shrewd? Or just easily pushed around?
“I’m afraid I must quit this dinner; the work of a head of the family is never done in this day and age, after all,” Arthur announced, rising from his seat. Hong took care to remove his napkin from his lap.
At least it would be better without Arthur around, Francis supposed.
But even after Arthur was gone, silence prevailed. Bridget didn’t even talk to her nanny. It was only when Scott abruptly stood and ordered Jacob to come with him that there was sound.
Nothing could be discussed with Bridget while her nanny was there. Who knew whose side she was on? Francis soon lost his appetite, and rose from the table as well. “I’m afraid I must go; I suppose I shall have the pleasure of your company again?”
“If that’s what you want,” Bridget said, back to normal tones.
Francis left without further conversation, Rhys following.
Anon, you're so wonderful at making your readers feel for the characters and get invested in the story. All through this chapter, I kept hoping that someone would grab a knife and just stab Arthur to death during dinner. You've made me utterly loathe him in this story, even though he's actually one of my favourite characters, and I can't wait to see how things will develop. I hope he's going to get at least a taste of his own medicine at some point.
I love the feeling of hopelessness in the story. Even though most of it is because of Arthur, it's still clear that even without him, the situation wouldn't be all that good since the characters live in a society that accepts this kind of treatment of others. I'm fascinated by all the social and cultural details that you weave into this and how horrifying and yet elegant it is.
As usual, thank you so much for writing such a great story! I'll be eagerly waiting for more.
Ugh, I finally got around to commenting to this chapter. I meant to do it earlier but I got sick and I couldn't stay up long enough to write. (Actually I started feeling really ill while reading this chapter so at first I was wondering if I was really sick or if I was that disgusted by Arthur. xD)
I'm so glad you replied, A!A! It's nice to hear from you aside from the fic. Here's a strategy that I like, btw: you can reply to comments at the end of each chapter. That way you almost never waste comment space because almost always the fic doesn't fill up a full even number of comments anyway.
I just realized another thing that I can't wait to see: Rhys's point of view. Not necessarily as in literally shifting the narration to him but even just hearing his thoughts on the situation. I guess that links to the whole general mystery about him but I'm also curious about how he sees Francis, what does he think about him. I wonder if he suspects that Francis wants to be good to him or if he fears that it's some sort of sadistic ruse or a priviledged nobleman's whim. Though I guess if Rhys himself came from a higher standing (possibly being Arthur's family and all) he'd know that there are good people within the nobility too... I guess? Or I guess he could simply be too traumatized and/or depressed to think clearly.
I do wish Francis would talk to him more, though. They both must be so lonely, too. In fact, Francis especially, since he has absolutely no friends around at all, just strangers he's barely learning to read, in a strange environment, and all the people he even sympathizes with are too suspicious of him to let him get close. I can't even imagine how stressed he must be, spending all that time in such a situation. Actually, wonder if he has anyone to write to? Does he have any friends alive in general who'd be reachable? Gilbert maybe? I'd write a million letters just to vent if I were him...
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Gift 8c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-02-16 08:58 am (UTC)(link)“As well as can be expected, dear cousin,” Bridget replied, in a sweet little voice that almost shocked Francis. It was far cry from the deeper tones of her normal voice, the pretend-grown-up authoritativeness of the tone he’d met in the sitting room.
“Very good. I dare say you shall be married within a month of reaching the proper age, and to a fine family indeed,” Arthur said, patting his lips with his napkin.
“Thank you, dear cousin,” she chirped back, delicately taking a bite of half a slice of carrot.
It was curious. It seemed everyone had their demeanor changed around Arthur; Scott became angrier, Rhys became more timid, Bridget became more girlish and childlike… What did he act like that was different around Arthur? More calculating and shrewd? Or just easily pushed around?
“I’m afraid I must quit this dinner; the work of a head of the family is never done in this day and age, after all,” Arthur announced, rising from his seat. Hong took care to remove his napkin from his lap.
At least it would be better without Arthur around, Francis supposed.
But even after Arthur was gone, silence prevailed. Bridget didn’t even talk to her nanny. It was only when Scott abruptly stood and ordered Jacob to come with him that there was sound.
Nothing could be discussed with Bridget while her nanny was there. Who knew whose side she was on? Francis soon lost his appetite, and rose from the table as well. “I’m afraid I must go; I suppose I shall have the pleasure of your company again?”
“If that’s what you want,” Bridget said, back to normal tones.
Francis left without further conversation, Rhys following.
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-02-16 12:40 pm (UTC)(link)I love the feeling of hopelessness in the story. Even though most of it is because of Arthur, it's still clear that even without him, the situation wouldn't be all that good since the characters live in a society that accepts this kind of treatment of others. I'm fascinated by all the social and cultural details that you weave into this and how horrifying and yet elegant it is.
As usual, thank you so much for writing such a great story! I'll be eagerly waiting for more.
Re: Gift 8c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-02-16 07:36 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Gift 8c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-02-19 07:46 am (UTC)(link)I'm so glad you replied, A!A! It's nice to hear from you aside from the fic. Here's a strategy that I like, btw: you can reply to comments at the end of each chapter. That way you almost never waste comment space because almost always the fic doesn't fill up a full even number of comments anyway.
I just realized another thing that I can't wait to see: Rhys's point of view. Not necessarily as in literally shifting the narration to him but even just hearing his thoughts on the situation. I guess that links to the whole general mystery about him but I'm also curious about how he sees Francis, what does he think about him. I wonder if he suspects that Francis wants to be good to him or if he fears that it's some sort of sadistic ruse or a priviledged nobleman's whim.
Though I guess if Rhys himself came from a higher standing (possibly being Arthur's family and all) he'd know that there are good people within the nobility too... I guess? Or I guess he could simply be too traumatized and/or depressed to think clearly.
I do wish Francis would talk to him more, though. They both must be so lonely, too. In fact, Francis especially, since he has absolutely no friends around at all, just strangers he's barely learning to read, in a strange environment, and all the people he even sympathizes with are too suspicious of him to let him get close. I can't even imagine how stressed he must be, spending all that time in such a situation. Actually, wonder if he has anyone to write to? Does he have any friends alive in general who'd be reachable? Gilbert maybe? I'd write a million letters just to vent if I were him...