Calliope Corvin (sweetsandtarts) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-01-21 20:04:00 |
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Isolda Pemberton had carefully crafted her place among the elite of Washington DC over the last several decades. Her husband was a people-pleaser, but she was the brains behind the operation, now and always. A well-placed donation, a word whispered in a certain ear, an invitation offered or accepted or denied at precisely the right time. She spoke these things fluently, effortlessly. Sadly, it seemed, her daughter did not. She and Wilhelm had given Calliope everything, of course, from the very moment they had known of her existence. Her place at a prestigious prep school had been secured before her first birthday. Her childhood had been peppered with lessons in everything from ballet to riding, all with the aim of molding her into one day being a proper society wife. Her admission to Georgetown had been assured not only by both of her parents being legacies, but also by a significant donation to the school's political science department in the Pemberton name. Calliope was home now after her first year at university, and Isolda could already see a change in her daughter… and it wasn't one of which she was fond. The girl was more obstinate than ever before, often disappearing for several hours at a time with no explanation as to where or why. But she couldn't hide from everyone, and Isolda knew that all too well. A few phone calls and she had her answer… though this knowledge did nothing to settle her mind. Finally, after dinner one evening, as the dishes were being cleared away and her husband had already retired to his study, Isolda motioned for her daughter to remain. "Stay, Calliope. We have something to discuss." -- For her entire life, Calliope had known the expectations of her family and she had smothered under them. She was afforded every comfort, and excelled in most activities that her parents enrolled her in...unless those tasks required socialization and playing political games. In those things, she was lost. She preferred quiet activities, and had blossomed at her university, out from underneath the constant pressure of her parental expectations. Calliope had folded her napkin in her lap and was about to ask to be excused. She would go to her room just long enough to change, and sneak out to meet up with Thomas. Her crush from fall semester had turned into a relationship in the spring, and she was...quite smitten, all things told. Of course, she hadn’t breathed a word of it to her parents. They wouldn’t approve, and she wasn’t going to try to fool herself into thinking that they might. She stifled a sigh and sank back into the dining room chair, her posture suffering as she did so, “Yes, mother?” That was the only response necessary, from her years of experience being the Pemberton daughter. Whatever her mother wanted to discuss, there was no getting out of it. -- "Sit up straight," Isolda corrected, sharply, as soon as Calliope had sat back down in her chair. "Honestly, Calliope, you act as if we've never taught you anything." She took a steadying breath, reaching for her wine glass to take a carefully measured sip. Setting the glass back down, she looked to her daughter, studying her up and down. As usual, the gaze left something to be desired- Calliope was always… deficient, in some way. But they made do, as best they could. "We have a dinner reservation tomorrow at the Lafayette Restaurant." It was a simple statement of fact, not something presented as an option. Isolda had managed her daughter's schedule for years, so this was nothing new. "Ramsey Asquith has asked to see you." At this name, finally, a hint of a smile finally graced her features. The Asquiths were nothing short of DC royalty, and their only son- who was six years Calliope's senior- was highly sought after. -- Her mother's command struck something in her, and she immediately straightened like a puppet on a string, her posture impeccable with her shoulders squared and spine straight. Ankles crossed, not the knees. Hands clasped in her lap. Her cheeks burned as she felt her mother eyeing her up and down, though she didn't let herself flinch under the scrutiny. “Ramsey Asquith?” Calliope swallowed a lump in her throat, though her expression must have shown her shock, “Why would he want to see me of all people? He's nearly twenty-five. He's on a political track. I haven't even started my sophomore year.” In fact, she was still just eighteen, not to have her next birthday until the fall. More than anything…it meant complications with Thomas, and Calliope…well, she loved him. It had happened so quickly that she had been surprised when she recognized the feeling, but it was there all the same. With him, her life was infinitely less complicated. She was free. Meanwhile, Ramsey Asquith would undoubtedly use all his influence to micromanage her every move much the way that her mother did now. She had spoken with him before and knew him to be arrogant and cunning, though perhaps surprisingly ill-equipped for feigning romance. His attempts at flirtation had been…considerably lacking. -- "Why? Calliope, darling, even you can't really be that stupid." Isolda tsk'ed her tongue. "Why do you think? He wants to court you!" Courting, in and of itself, was perhaps an outdated term or practice, but Isolda had never made a secret of desiring that for her daughter. The formality and control it offered was much more suited to the Pemberton way of things. "Besides which," she added, in an off-handed comment, "it very neatly ties up your secret little dalliance with that boy Corvin." -- The matter that Calliope was questioning was not really what Ramsey wanted to do with her, but why he had chosen her. Specifically. Out of all the girls in the area that would have actually loved to have his attention, he had chosen her for some reason. The draw of her family shouldn’t have been that much more than any other. There were lots of families in Virginia with old money, after all, and though Calliope wasn’t plain, she’d never really sought the attention of the eligible bachelors of D.C. What really shocked her was the simple divulgence of her mother’s knowledge about Thomas. She steeled herself and clenched her jaw for a long moment before she asserted, “It’s not a dalliance. Thomas is kind and so intelligent, mother. I won’t stop seeing him. I love him...and I have no interest in Ramsey Asquith.” -- If Isolda had been anyone else, she might have almost found Calliope's obstinance endearing. That her daughter had finally started growing a backbone, however, was little more than a nuisance now- but it was a buzzing fly that would be easily batted away. Isolda waved a dismissive hand. "Your interest or not has no bearing on the matter. Ramsey has chosen you, and surely you don't wish to disobey and disappoint your dear father and I, now do you?" Her voice was saccharine sweet. "Your little nothing boy from nowhere, Thomas, will be soon forgotten, trust me." -- She hated the immediate sensation of guilt…the feel of her own will slipping through her fingers like sand. She clutched to it desperately, but she knew that there was really nothing to be done. Her mother would get her way. She always did. She would probably destroy everything Calliope had come to hold so dear. “I'm going to keep seeing him,” Calliope insisted, though her voice was quieter this time, “I'll go to your dinners and play your games, mother. But only if I keep Thomas in my life.” She lifted her chin and took a page out of her mother's own book, her tone never raised or cruel, just serene and sweet and practically conversational, “Thomas is my happiness. I'm certain that Ramsey would find me an obstinate and unpleasant figure without that. I heard he doesn't care for opinionated women.” It was an insinuation of what may come if she was forced to part from Thomas...a promise to become everything that Ramsey despised to ruin the whole match. |