Fans of Peter's Room

[lilliburlero.livejournal.com]

I'm just about to write a post-canon Merricks' Twelfth Night party (2 years on from that in Peter's Room.), and I'm making some POV decisions. From whose viewpoint would you like to see the party, and why? Peter's been packed off to Selby's for the Christmas hols, sorry, I had to limit the cast a bit. The only definite decision so far is a staff POV (probably Mrs Bertie 'helping out', as she's much better characterised than Nellie). I can't promise everything will make it into the finished fic, but I'll try and write a ficbit for everything suggested.

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[lilliburlero.livejournal.com]

Helena Merrick for coughingbear. I'm afraid the inside turned out quite a close match for the outside!

(In this fic it hasn't been possible to find Patrick a school after the events of Attic Term, because the reasons for his being asked to leave his previous establishment sound a bit flimsy and euphemistic, and everyone is assuming the worst.)

Helena was enjoying a brief respite from circulating among guests and directing staff when the Marlows came into the drawing room. Taken together, she thought, they rather had the look of a fashion-plate, more Country Life than Vogue: Pam perfectly Caesar's wife is beyond reproach in her black velvet; Rowan in burgundy, all wrong for that weathered, florid complexion; Ginty in a fashionable but ill-advised charcoal lace and cerise sash; the twins the best of the lot, one in rich peacock chiffon, the other in midnight-blue grosgrain; and that good-looking young man in Navy mess undress, as redundantly decorative as the masculine figure on a pattern-packet, was, yes, Giles. She smoothed her own aubergine satin and glided over.

‘My dear—how delightful!’

‘Mrs Merrick—my son, Giles.’

‘How do you do?’

Some of the things Pat and Tony had let slip about the quixotic events of a year ago started to make sense; she tried to picture what might happen if it all came out—Giles as the defendant in a court martial, but couldn’t quite decide whether that fulsome self-satisfaction would prove impressive or crumple entirely. She greeted the girls, carefully leaving Ginty till last.

‘Virginia, how do you do?’

‘How d’y’do, Mrs Merrick—’

‘Such a pity Ann couldn’t make it—’

‘Yes, the nursing school term starts frightfully—’

‘Of course—she’s left school. But you are still at Kingscote.’ She let a little percussive bounce fall on still.

‘In—in—the Sixth, Mrs Merrick.’

‘Delighted to hear it, Virginia. I think it’s most important that girls take advantage of the opportunity of education—when it is unjustly denied so many.’

‘Yes, Mrs Merrick.’ The girl was unbecomingly scarlet, it was enough. Helena smiled sweetly at the rest of the family, and swept away, intercepting Edwin and Rose, who were making their way towards the Marlows.

‘Mr Dodd—’

‘Oh, good evening, Mrs Merrick.’

‘You’ll be taking Mrs Cropper in—do you know one another?’

‘Yes, thank you. We’ve spoken. Mrs Merrick, this is my daughter Rose.’

Helena had not even seen the snub-nosed child in forest green. She had perfectly glorious thick, toffee-coloured hair.

‘Oh, goodness me—I am sorry. How do you do, Rose? I must introduce Oliver Reynolds to you; he’s your supper partner.’

Rose blanched and ducked her head. Helena feared momentarily for her Isfahan carpet, but the child contained herself.

‘Now,’ Edwin said reprovingly, ‘you know we shan’t be able to sit together at supper. We explained this, didn’t we?’

Rose nodded mutely. Helena smiled gaily, but escorting her youngest guest to the small knot of young people among whom Ollie Reynolds stood discoursing solemnly on equine form gave her a distinct intimation of what it must be like to be a wardress in Holloway.

[coughingbear]

Thank you! Lovely exchange with Ginty.

Poor Rose.

[lilliburlero.livejournal.com]

Thanks, glad you liked it.