Anzhelina can be an unsavoury young woman. (purebred) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-08-17 05:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1979-08] august, antonin dolohov, anzhelina dolohov |
Who: Antonin and Anzhelina Dolohov.
Where: The Dolohov estate.
What: It's time for Antonin to have That Talk with his daughter.
When: Sunday afternoon.
Rating: PG.
Status: Complete
Antonin had been putting off this for too long. Anzhelina was of an age when engagement should be considered, and he'd been avoiding the discussion that they'd have to have. He'd always thought that Theresa would have been the one to take care of things, on the emotional side at least; of course Antonin would have had to speak with the family of the young man, but Theresa would have talked to Anzhelina about the matter. Women understood each other better than men understood them, after all, and Antonin's own teenage years were so far behind him that he barely remembered what it was like to be that young. Not to mention the fact that even though he'd been the oldest male child, he'd had several older sisters who'd taken the brunt of his parents' wedding fervor. Theresa was gone, though -- (no, no, she'll be right there when you wake) -- and so it was Antonin's duty to do right by their daughter and organise things. A little before dinner would be served, he went to Anzhelina's suite, having confirmed with Olga that his daughter was there instead of outdoors or in the tower. "Dushenka? We must talk." Theresa was gone and it wasn't fair. There were times when Anzhelina went days without thinking about her mother; with her being gone, it was often difficult to remember she once existed. Nonetheless, Anzhelina always kept her mother in her heart if not in her mind, and they were more alike than Anzhelina knew. With her eyes focused on a book, trying to keep her mind off other things, Anzhelina lounged on one of the large sofas that faced the curtained windows. The sun was bright enough to provide enough light for reading, but it seemed that reading wasn't what she was really doing. She looked a little troubled and distracted, which wasn't like her. When her father stepped into her study, she smiled at him, but it was a weak smile. "Is everything all right? Am I in trouble for something?" He smiled a little, coming further into the sitting room. "No, no trouble. And everything is all right, relatively speaking. There are just some things we need to discuss. May I sit?" She was beautiful, so like her mother. When had she grown into this young woman instead of the little girl he'd known? Wordlessly, Anzhelina nodded and scooted over. She looked relieved that she wasn't about to be punished for something she'd done and forgotten about, as she felt she had lately been very well-behaved. "Relatively speaking," she repeated. "There will never an instance where everything is just all right, will there?" "It is not the way of things, I fear," he said heavily, sitting down beside her. "Dushenka, you are nineteen years old. It is time we started making arrangements for marriage. I will not be around forever, and I do not want you left alone." Anzhelina squirmed in her seat uncomfortably. Marriage was something that was on her mind as well, but in a completely different way. It wasn't something that could be ignored at this point. She was nineteen. She couldn't decide whether nineteen was still too early, or if she should have been married right out of school. As much as she loved her father, these were the sorts of things she would have preferred to discuss with her mother. She closed her book and placed it next to her. "Marriage," she said, nodding a little. "But I would not want to steal the spotlight away from Astra." "Naturally," he agreed. "It would be most impolite. But that does not stop us discussing it. I would not have you married so soon after an engagement was announced, either; I think Miss Avery may rest assured that she will have the spotlight for this year's nuptials." He hesitated for a moment, looking at her. "Is there anybody you prefer, Anzhelina? I know people of our station cannot always wed for love, but I would have you at least be fond of the man you marry." She couldn't help but roll her eyes. In all honesty, there was no one she could immediately think of. She didn't doubt the men of their society were all fine individuals who would do their best to keep her happy, even if they weren't in love, but no one stood out to her. This was harder than she thought it would be. "No," she said plainly. "I do not think I really care anymore. And I will not bother asking a stupid question, as much as it's been on my mind. Shouldn't it be more than that. I already know the answer and I believe it is a waste of time and sanity to try and think differently." Antonin smiled sadly. It hurt, seeing so much cynicism in his daughter, but perhaps it would protect her. "Perhaps it should be. It was, for your mother and I, and I would have it be for you if I could, but these things... they do not always fall into place so neatly." Delicately, he added, "what do you think of Barty?" For a moment, she simply stared at him with a quirked eyebrow, unable to formulate a response. It wasn't that she had never considered Barty, but she remembered how he asked her for a dance at the Wilkes' debut -- how polite he was and how she suspected there was something more to it than just gentility. All the same, she didn't have a problem with him. He was nice and seemingly unassuming. He wouldn't be a bad husband, but she wished these decisions didn't have to be made in such a way. Slowly, she shook her head. "Barty? I think he needs to gain some weight," was her reply. Antonin chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Yes, I am working on that. He forgets to eat, I think. Unless you meet someone with whom you fall in love, would you object to my considering Barty an option? I'm fond of the boy, and you seem to get along well enough. He's of good family, for all I cannot abide his father, and he would be good to you, I feel." She picked up her book and idly leafed through it in deliberation. Her eyes drifted over to the windows, and then back to her father's aged face. She didn't mind. Why was it so hard to tell him that? Maybe her mind was still too young for this sort of thing. "Of course I do not object. And I love you a lot, father. It might seem like I am against this, but I completely trust your judgment." "I need not say anything to him just yet," Antonin told her. "Perhaps in the new year, should things settle some. But I did not want it to come as a surprise when I do discuss it with him." Nodding once more, she began to really appreciate her father's openness. Not everyone was given the frill of having a choice in the subject of marriage -- he was giving her a choice as well as allowing her to have a significant amount of input. She was luckier than most were, and although she was now thoroughly certain she'd been born in the wrong century, she was glad her father cared enough about her to want her to be as comfortable as possible. "I am relieved you came to talk to me. It makes this a lot easier for me," she grinned at her father warmly, standing, and placed a kiss on his forehead. "And now, I am going to go mourn my rat's death a little more. He was a good rat, but perhaps it is good that he is gone. Change should not be feared." |