bellatrix will set the hounds on you; (coldrose) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-01-22 16:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1980-01] january, bellatrix lestrange (née black), jacqueline macnair (née wilkes) |
RP Log: Bellatrix and Jacqueline
Who: Bellatrix and Jacqueline
Where: Lestrange Manor
When: 22 January
What: Bella makes a few gifts to Jacq.
Rating: G
Status: Complete!
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The cryptic owl from Mrs. Lestrange had been unexpected, and had been given to her by their elf as she sat at her vanity, staring at two swatches of material her mother had left for her to choose between. These were supposed to be table clothes. One was only slightly more red than the other. She was in hell.
She was glad for the excuse to get away from this frustrating nonsense for awhile, though she was a bit nervous to be summoned to Norfolk. She couldn't think of anything pressing enough for Mrs. Lestrange to want to see her--after all, she didn't think she was going to give her opinion the great war of roses versus lillies.
Dressed neatly in a gray wool skirt and green sweater, Jacqueline pulled on her warmest wool cloak and stopped in her mother's room, letting her know where she would be for the afternoon.
A step into their foyer and a turn brought her to the Lestrange property, where she felt the protective magic test and then accept her. Stepping forward, she knocked on the doorway and waited to be admitted, doing her best not to fidgit with her hands.
Hoofbeats, slow and measured, stalked Jacqueline's prim and proper presence as Bellatrix rounded the corner mounted upon one of her favourite Andalusian stallions. The horse's snorted breaths materialised as smoke in the air and as he shook his mane to paw his displeasure at stopping, Bellatrix kicked a leg over his neck and slid smartly to the ground.
Wrapped in grey wool and faun coloured breeches with shiny boots that hit her knee, she made for a picaresque equestrian (perhaps out of a painting, she liked to think) and gave her guest a nod of welcome.
"You are swift, Miss Wilkes," she commented. "Though, I wonder, with the weather and your southern blood, if you are chilled."
The only thing more intimidating than Bellatrix Lestrange was Bellatrix Lestrange in spurs, towering over her with a towering horse that was much larger than any that Jacq had ever been allowed to ride. For a moment, she was speechless, mute with inarticulation, before she managed to regain control of herself, blink, and speak. "You said two o'clock." She said simply, by way of explanation. There was no way Jacqueline would ever risk making Mrs. Lestrange wait for her. "No more chilled than I expected to be."
Bellatrix was, by her very nature, never one to care too thoroughly for the comfort of others but she would have hated for the girl to catch herself an illness in what seemed to be mere minutes before her marriage to Walden. Smiling briefly, she let her hand fall against the stallion's dappled grey coat before continuing. "I prefer to remain out-of-doors, but I shall send Valentine back to his hay if you are cold."
She was glad that she had chosen to wear woolen tights as well, or else she might have to grit her teeth and tell Mrs. Lestrange she needed to go inside, pulling her cloak around herself more securely, she shook her head at the suggestion. "I am not uncomfortable, I assure you."
"Then walk with me." With Valentine, his head bowed and ears flicking lazily, to her right, she motioned Jacqueline to her left. "And let us discuss your marriage. How are you feeling?"
She fell into place as directed, privately amused by the thought of a woman like Bellatrix having a horse named Valentine. It was...almost whimsical. The thought that Mrs. Lestrange might be even more complex was fascinating to her. "I am feeling...well, today I am feeling overwhelmed. As I told your sister, it varies depending on how much I need to get done at any given time. In general, I am hopeful. Mr. Macnair is quite consider and accommodating--much more so than might be expected from a man who is marrying me through arrangement."
"Walden," she replied, "is a man of many complexities, as I am sure you will discover. His wisdom, age and experience will compliment your own stoic nature. Never be afraid, for though some would say that fear is the heart of love, I think boldness and direct address of things which might have the potential to be fearful would be the best course of action. You were not, after all, chosen for being a prating sycophant."
She nodded, internalizing the words as she processed them. Mrs. Lestrange's advice was always both prescient and reaffirming--it was easy, at times, for Jacqueline to feel as though nothing about her was right, especially when even the most innocuous things she said caused such great furor. She knew she wasn't gentle or vapid, but she also knew that there was no requirement from society saying that she should be--she was not made to be nothing more than a recepticle for carrying babies. When she was around Mrs. Lestrange, she was more sure of that fact, more sure that there was another acceptable way to be. "Sometimes I wonder what I was chosen for. Mr. Macnair has been so kind to me, but I thought he was sworn to eternal bachelorhood before."
"Some men become hyper-aware of their responsibility to their family line in times of war and other such pestilence," replying thus, she pursed her lips and exhaled slowly, thoughtfully considering an answer to Jacqueline's Why me?. "Are you not pleased? Among your peers there are those of a less inscrutable temperament. You were chosen because you make the most sense. We are, after all, always in search of the prudently sensible."
She shook her head quickly at her question. "No, I am pleased. Practically, it is an honour to be chosen by someone as loyal and well-placed in society and the Cause as Mr. Macnair. Personally, I find him to be intelligent and kind, so I am pleased he considers me worthy. I suppose I simply thought men of his...position in life preferred wives who were more...docile than I am."
"Men of a lesser caliber, perhaps," she said, and let that be that for it was not in her nature to go about praising men who were neither her father nor the Dark Lord. Even Rodolphus, much as she loved him, rarely earned such words. She had sworn never to be a looking glass, magnifying a man to twice his size when the world was already made for him. "Or those who think that a woman is a thing -- " she shook Valentine's reins -- "to be tamed with bit and bridle."
She barely suppressed a smirk at the thought of any man trying to tame Bellatrix, bridle or no. She was glad that someone like Mrs. Lestrange was married to someone who let her be herself. That was all she could hope for in her own marriage. "Well, I do consider my future husband to be of a higher caliber. I also don't think he's inclined to try and tame me." She did smile, then, at remembering Walden's assurance that he would try and make her happy.
"Perish the thought," she said dryly, looking at Jacqueline (such a pale, young beauty) from the corner of her eye. "And anyway, I don't think you will be told to 'Lie back and think of England'. And what colours have you chosen for your wedding?"
There was a bit of a stumble in her step at the reference to her wedding night, though she tried her best to hide it. Narcissa had been vaguely comforting about the event, but Jacqueline couldn't get passed her fear of it--she knew what her mother had taught her about what happened between husbands and wives, so it wasn't a mystery, but she couldn't conceive of it not being unpleasant for her. She also couldn't think that she had any hope of pleasing Walden with her naivety on the subject. "Uh...red...with gold and silver accents." She managed to say.
... and Bellatrix was never one to miss a stumble. Her free hand shot out and grasped Jacqueline's elbow to steady her before she let go (there was an imperceptible smirk drawing up the corners of her lips).
"Oh, good. Then I think this shall be perfect." Stopping abruptly, she reached into her coat pocket and withdrew a small velvet box.
She flushed when Bellatrix caught her elbow, knowing it meant she had noticed, and suspecting she knew how sensitive she was to the topic.
She stopped as well, looking puzzled as Bellatrix withdrew the box. Surely she didn't mean to give her a present? She must be misunderstanding. "Mrs. Lestrange?"
"Jacqueline. You did good service to Severus in the maintenance of the library, you have been more than helpful in dealing with Regulus's untimely death, among other things. Take the box and allow me to express my gratitude."
She was torn between her desire to demure and her inability to disobey a direct order from Mrs. Lestrange. Her face still showed reluctance and embarassment (but only because she thought she was unworthy) , as she accepted the box and opened it, drawing in a breath as she took in the lovely diamond earrings that sparkled up at her. "Mrs. Lestrange...I..."
"They are yours, Jacqueline," she said, her voice almost soft. "Keep them and good will with them, too. I am glad you are to marry Walden. Perhaps you will often find yourself in Norfolk."
She looked back up at the woman who she could almost believe felt affectionate toward her--she wanted her to visit often? It was almost too much to take in. Almost unable to speak, she cleared her throat, looking down again so Bellatrix might not see her eyes beginning to tear up. "Thank you."
"And anyway," she said, brushing off the gratitude with one quick shake of her head. "I have given away far too many horses of late. Diamonds are ... well. I'm sure you prefer diamonds."
She tore her eyes away from the earrings and closed the box, still not really able to speak. "Well, only you could manage to do something unfathomably kind and give me one less decision to make about the wedding. It's lovely."
A brow arched in consideration of the young lady's words and she smiled - fleeting, brief - before turning back to Valentine. With one graceful arc, she was seated back in his saddle high above Jacqueline. "You are welcome to stay for supper. I, however, must see to the horse before I accompany you indoors. Perhaps you can make your own way and meet a servant in the hall?"
She was shocked and yet not by the abrupt change of subject, nodding at Mrs. Lestrange's words. "If you would have me, I would be glad to stay." She turned toward the house, glad to be inside and out of the wind, and gave her cloak and gloves to the waiting servant, following another into the sitting room to await her hostess. It was only a matter of a half an hour or so before they were seated at supper, Jacqueline looking considerably more at ease than when she had arrived, half convinced she had done something wrong.
Still windswept from her ride, Bellatrix looked over their mostly meatless supper with some degree of pleasure. Using her knife to effortlessly behead an asparagus spear, she looked to Jacqueline and gave a nod. "Because I had my father -- " she paused. No, that was not how to begin. "Many young ladies do not have the opportunity to ask anything of older, more experienced women prior to many changes in their lives due to boring old things like propriety. Therefore, I shall offer you five minutes in which all bets are off and I will answer your questions in the most frank way imaginable."
She was paralyzed with the inability to form words for a good ten seconds, so shocked by Bellatrix's directness and lienence that she didn't know how to respond. Then, realizing she was wasting precious time, she cleared her through and kept her eyes fixed firmly on her water glass. "Will it hurt?"
Pity, like devil's snare, wrapped around her heart as she beheld Jacqueline. For all of her intelligence and bravado, here she was frightened by such a little thing. Such a little, insignificant part of the fullness her life would take on.
"It might - initially - if he isn't mindful. But I don't think it will be anything unbearable. Stay calm, don't get tense or then it will hurt. There might be blood - some little bit - but if there is, don't be frightened. It's normal."
She nodded, noting her words. She wanted to do as little talking as possible for the next five minutes. "How will I know how to...please him?"
Laughing softly, she wiped her mouth with the corner of her napkin. "You can ask him."
The girl who never stopped speaking her mind clearly was not yet comfortable with the idea of talking to her husband about sex. "And if I don't...please him?"
"Then isn't it his problem for not being pleased?" she asked, displaying a fair measure of haughtiness as she continued.
She managed a smile at that, shaking her head. "I suppose so. What am I not asking that I should be asking?"
"You've been taught all your life that it's your duty - your fault, your responsibility - if the man isn't pleased by you. He's got just as much responsibility as you do and more. Make sure you tell him what you like and in that, perhaps he will be more likely to tell you. Men are like animals. A pet, a kind word and they are spent. Women are more complex creatures. Infinitely so."
"I suppose that is advice for both inside and outside the bedroom?"
She grinned, teeth gleaming. "Indeed so."
"What are the advantages of marrying an older man?"
"Patience, maturity, wisdom, experience, social standing and the most important of all -- " a smirk, "good looks."
She broke into a genuine smile at that. "I do think he's good looking. Not in the way I'm used to, but it's nice."
It pleased Bellatrix that she seemed unfazed by his age and she thought that eventually Jacqueline would come to appreciate it for the greater benefits it held in store.
"Sixty more seconds."
Damn. "Does it ever get easier to not be like every other girl?"
"Not unless you have a great deal of money and a fair measure of power."
"Well I should at least have one of those after the wedding. Walden won't want me to be simpering, right?"
"Walden will want you to be what you are."
"After everything, who ends up happier--girls like us or girls like them?"
That question gave her some pause as she stopped to consider it. Who was more happy; the blissfully ignorant or the warring few who strove to do themselves better? She shook her head.
"Them."
She nodded, accepting it. She hadn't really expected the answer to be different. "You've gone above and beyond today, Mrs. Lestrange."
"It's not often that I do," she replied, pursing her lips as she pushed away her hardly touched dinner. "But I did not want to see you enter the marriage contract full of your peers' certainly less esteemable views on marriage."
"I have no qualms about doing my duty. It would be ridiculous of me to espouse the virtues of Purism while shunning my responsibilities to it at the same time. I am many things, but a hypocrite is not one of them."