Chapter Text
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a failed debutante must be in want of a husband. Now that would usually be the case, dear reader but it seems not so with Miss Rey Palpatine. Yet again, in her third season no less, the granddaughter of the Prime Minister has shown no interest in any of England’s finest gentlemen. It can only be supposed that her temperament (and temper) has gotten in the way of her making a match. With the season half finished, and nary a gentlemen has succeeded in piquing her interest. I am certain, Mr. Palpatine cannot approve.
Rey placed the pamphlet down, barely restraining herself from ripping it to pieces. Lady Antilles, as she called herself, had been writing such nonsense about her since her presentation. She knew why, she had been expected to make a great match her first year. She had a splendid dowry, connections, an impeccable family - even if she did not have the accomplishments to match, which she certainly did, she should have found a suitor easily. What Lady Antilles and the rest of the ton failed to realize was she did not wish to marry.
Of course, she could never say that aloud, her grandfather would simply arrange a marriage if it did not look like she was making an effort. So, London it was; balls, parties, and concerts with the same faces for another year. Listening to the same prattle, tea in the same salons, all with a bland smile on her face. She would much rather be at home with her books and her swords, but it was not to be. At least until her grandfather finally decided to leave her and her parents in peace. Which looked very much like a funeral in her head.
Mama was firmly on her side, and no matter what should happen, she at least took comfort in that. Papa was too, but he could not go against his father if he were ordered. So, she prepared for the day, sure there would be a bevy of gentlemen making the rounds this morning. As long as that insufferable Viscount Ren stayed away, she could remain calm.
It was not to be, Ben Solo and his annoying friend Lord Hux both arriving. No matter how many times she redirected the conversation to banal topics such as the weather, the Viscount persisted in visiting. She was almost rude to him, forgetting every manner that had been ingrained in her since birth and he still came calling. If it were not for the fact that their grandfathers were such dear friends, she would forget all her manners completely. All she could do was ensure she never found herself alone with him, giving him the chance of proposing.
With a promise to see her tonight at the concert, he left her in peace to fend off a few other foolish men who withstood her disinterest in hopes of being granted her fortune. For she knew that was the only reason most of these men even bothered to show their faces at her doorstep. Gamblers, rakes, fortune hunters and the deeply in debt were the only kind to arrive these days.
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Poe tugged at his cravat, the fine material softer than he was accustomed to. Finn shot him a look and his hand dropped, scanning the crowd to see if anyone had noticed. He could not see anyone but that meant little, while surrounded by the Ton. He always felt like all eyes were upon him, their looks screaming that he was an interloper, that he was unwelcome. He had committed the greatest sin of them all - he had become rich, but not by inheriting it.
Since his father’s death, he had felt lost but had done what he had always wished and attempted to fit into society. Two generations of hard work in trade should not go to waste simply because he had been crossed in love. He would marry, there was no other family to leave his fortune to, but he would never bother with love again. But those reminders made him maudlin, and Finn would not stand for that.
He looked over the crowd again, watching the others in their boxes as surreptitiously as he could. The music had begun, but most of the other patrons were not here for that, still chatting amongst themselves. They were here to be seen, to catch up with those of their acquaintance, not enjoy Beethoven. But one woman caught his eye, seeming enraptured with the performance while the couple in her party whispered from behind her. He took her example, turning towards the stage until intermission.
This was his least favourite part; when all those patrons would flee their boxes seemingly in search of refreshments but in truth, for gossip. He was nouveau riche - too good for those on the floor but not good enough for those up high. If it was not for Finn being in a similar position, he would have even fewer friends in attendance. Finn had gained slightly more traction, the stench of trade a generation away, so he let him leave their current confines in search of whatever he could find.
He had only been in London a few weeks and he was regretting coming. The northern winter was preferable to the chill he felt here. Standing to stretch his legs, he expected the hall to be empty by this time. He certainly never expected to crash into the young woman he had spotted earlier. She was even prettier up close, but it was the fire in her eyes that shocked him.
“Are you blind, sir?” she spat out, righting her skirts.
“If I said yes, would you be politer?”
She looked up, her already pale skin whitening further. “I am so sorry,” she apologized, looking around desperately for aid. None was forthcoming, the corridor completely empty save the two of them. “Um … do you require … may I be of assistance?”
“I believe I shall be well,” he teased.
“Well … I … I should find my parents,” she stammered. “Again, I am very sorry.”
“Perhaps more caution would be wise.”
She nodded, then seemed to realize a blind man would not see that, mumbling a simple yes. He watched her walk away, catching sight of Finn approaching. Surely a little more teasing could not harm? “And miss,” he called out, waiting for Finn to enter their box. “That shade of red looks lovely on you.”
He waited a moment, laughing as she realized the truth and stormed off. Shutting the curtains, he waited for Finn’s lecture.
His friend rounded on him. “What were you thinking? Speaking to her?” Finn hissed.
He frowned, confused. “That young woman? She seemed decent enough or are you telling me she is some sort of lady of the night?” he teased.
“That’s the Prime Minister’s granddaughter! She is supposed to be a right terror, or at least that’s what Lady Antilles surmises.”
“Please tell me you do not read that rubbish,” he answered.
“Well, it is her third season with no offers and her dowry is supposed to be enormous. It is even said her mother raised her to practically be a bluestocking,” Finn finished in a dramatic whisper.
“Yes, the idea of a woman who is as smart and capable as a man, how terrible,” he said with derision.
“And how many women were there in our classes at Cambridge?”
“That might have been due to the fact that they are denied entry, Finn,” he countered.
“And those ideas are why you will have trouble finding a bride among the Ton.”
“Then I am glad of it,” he replied before taking his seat for the second half.
Dear readers, I have some exciting news. Last evening’s concert was expected to be more of the same with a splendid backdrop of sound, but one tidbit was missed by all but me. The fiery Miss Palpatine has perhaps met her match. I do not mean this in the sense of a suitor unfortunately, but that this remarkable young woman was bested in wordplay.
Who, you ask, accomplished this remarkable feat? A duke? The prince regent? A saint? Alas, you think far too high. Miss Palpatine was forced to storm off from none other than a Mr. Poe Dameron. I am sure my readers are quite confused for it is a name I have never mentioned. Little is known about this man but be certain, my eyes will be on him much in the future.
Rey did not resist the urge to tear the pamphlet this morning, but she did so with a purpose. Lady Antilles had finally made herself of use; she had a name. She would not sit through this morning’s visits with her mother, she had a mission to accomplish. This Mr. Dameron was an enigma. And better yet, a possible solution to her problem.
Whomever Lady Antilles was, she was well informed, but she did not know all. Rey might have stormed off, that was the truth, but she refused to be bested. There had been no mention of her returning to the stranger’s box. And certainly nothing about her overhearing his conversation with his friend. She had assumed he had simply teased her because of her position but it had been revealed he had not even known who she was.
Both her parents and her grandfather had begun to pressure her more this season. And that pressure seemed to be directed towards a certain Viscount she could not tolerate. If she was to survive this season unscathed and unmarried, she would require an ally. From what little she had heard, this Mr. Dameron was single but seemed in no rush to marry either and her plan could help them both.
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The knock on his study door startled him, checking the time. Finn was not expected for hours yet, and visitors never bothered with him. He called for whomever to enter; Wexley looked rather flushed or at the very least, out of sorts. “Sir, a young lady is here to see you,” his butler managed to sputter out.
“Show her into one of the drawing rooms then,” he answered, setting aside his book. “Have one of the maids waiting as well.”
He supposed it did not hurt to be cautious, Finn had warned him that fortune hunters may attempt to entrap him. His friend did not know it, but he had more than enough practical experience with that lot. He moved to rise but Wexley had not left. “Sir, she came to the servant’s entrance and insists she wishes to speak to you there.”
“Can you not deal with her?” he asked perplexed.
“No sir, she most definitely is here to speak to you.”
His butler was not the cryptic sort, leaving him little choice but to go. He understood immediately once he saw her. “Did I upset you that much?” he questioned. “I do tend to tease people often.”
Miss Palpatine rolled her eyes but moved closer. He resisted the urge to step back. “That is not why I called.”
“So, you routinely call on men you do not know by skulking to their back entrance?”
“No, this is quite the first but the fewer people who know I came the better, if this is to work,” she replied. “You must know why I am here.”
He settled back against the wall, crossing his arms before him. “Miss Palpatine, is it?” At her nod, he continued. “I can only surmise you have found me out to play a prank of your own. So, if you would just begin, I have a friend arriving within the hour and I would like to finish my novel before he arrives.”
“You enjoy novels?” She shook her head as if to clear it. “It matters not at the moment, have you not read the papers today? About what was said of our meeting?”
“Being a relation to the Prime Minister or not, our meeting was not newsworthy.”
“Lady Antilles!”
“Do all the wealthy enjoy such drivel?”
“And who’s house is this Mr. Dameron? A home in Mayfair does not come cheaply,” she crowed.
He sighed, pushing himself off the brick. “I concede to your point, now kindly do me the favour of getting to yours.”
“I have a proposition for you. One that would benefit us both,” she replied. “I must only survive this last season then I will be of age and may have some control over my life. Or more accurately, my dowry. I believe my family has realized this as well and are pushing for me to marry.” Her mouth turned down into a distinct frown at the idea. “I overheard part of your conversation last evening, it seems you have no wish to marry either. So, I thought perhaps an alliance would be useful. As a potential suitor to the outside world.”
He was certain he was staring blankly at her, for no reply came to mind at all. She looked at him rather expectantly, seeming quite serious. “Why would I do such a thing?” he managed to gasp out. It was the only thought in his head.
“Lady Antilles, of course!” she replied exasperatedly. “It did not take me long to find you and others will doubtless be able to do so. You shall have everyone in London at your doorstep before long! Including the matchmaking mamas!”
That gave him pause. He did not need a repeat of that in his life. “So, you propose that we pretend to court?”
“We dance at a few balls, are seen together at a few parties, perhaps a night at the opera and other events around town,” she answered. “We separate at the end of the season to return home, and I will tell my parents that I expect a letter with a proposal but by that time I shall be of age and the letter will be from a solicitor and I shall leave England’s shores for good. You may even play the heartbroken man next season and blame me for using you ill. The Ton would easily believe it and your reputation is safe.”
“When exactly did you concoct this plan?”
“This morning, after I read the pamphlet! Do keep up,” she replied.
As if the universe wished to give him a sign, Wexley made an appearance. “Is Mr. Trooper here?” he asked.
Wexley glanced at the young woman briefly. “No, but I thought it best to bring you these,” he replied, handing him several cards. “I have been saying you were not at home to guests given … the circumstances.”
Miss Palpatine beamed, raising an eyebrow at him in challenge. Wexley looked at him for some direction. “Yes, please say I am not at home to all but Mr. Trooper,” he requested.
She waited until the butler left before adding a new card to the pile in his hand. “I shall expect to see you tomorrow,” she crowed, eyes shining. “Make sure to bring flowers. Large and expensive ones. We are about to become the talk of the town.”
We finally have some excitement and intrigue in a certain quarter. Little did I know, the chance meeting between two certain individuals would bear such delicious fruit. Lately, it has been difficult to find the spirited Miss Palpatine without the enigmatic Mr. Dameron. They have been spotted together a multitude of times over the past several days and many, including myself, are wondering if perhaps the shrew is being tamed.
Rumours have it that the Prime Minister is not at all pleased with his granddaughter’s choice, preferring a certain Viscount but is, for the time at least, allowing the courtship to proceed. It might be in part to Mr. Dameron’s reported income and estate located near the Scottish border. One cannot but wonder if perhaps there’s some financial trouble brewing to allow this pairing to continue?
It is early days yet, but I promise dear readers, once I know, so shall you.