"So it is with great pleasure that I can announce that The Society for Traditional Magic Preservation has developed a program to support the local business community as our economy moves forward in the next stages of recovery," Farren looked up from her notes to the elderly man sitting across from her her brow furrowed, "I think I've used far too many /thats/ in once statement. It sounds redundant." The old man nodded in agreement and a floating quill began frantically crossing out the sentence on the note pad hovering in front of Farren.
A grandfather clock in the corner of the room chimed signaling the hour was over and that Farren's bi-weekly meeting with her Grandfather was drawing to a close. "I believe you have something more important to attend to this afternoon?" Spencer Abercrombie, the family patriarch, commented casually to his eldest grandchild.
"Yes, Mr. Purcell is coming to meet me here. For tea," Farren plucked her floating quill from the air and shut it in her notebook.
"The one who was just released?" the old man's deep timbre was skeptical.
"Yes, that's the one."
"I see. Well....you know the rules," the older man dragged on slowly so that his progeny would have time to absorb his comments, "The public side of Farren Abercrombie may support traditional culture and methods but she is NOT a dark wizard. The public Farren is a gracious, ambitious, if not some what publicity shy heiress with a mind for politics and philanthropy. She is NOT a Death Eater." His piercing blue eyes caught hers and in his gaze were all the things he didn't want to utter aloud.
"Yes I know. I know. Don't worry Grandfather, I'm smarter than...." she quickly stopped mid-sentence her eyes darting down to her lap. Grandfather had been beating this same message into her head since she was sixteen. Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised that Farren found her own mother and grandmother foolish for following Lord Voldemort straight to their deaths. None the less in this house it was a great sin to criticize the beloved dead. "I'm smarter than getting sucked into something by a middle class criminal," she recovered ungracefully but met his gaze once again with a dismissive smile.
"Very well then....do enjoy your afternoon Farren," he said softly obviously not impressed with her response and near offense to his beloved wife and daughter in-law. He said nothing else and did not look at her as Farren rose from her wingback chair and silently made her way to the parlor door. "Oh Farren," he called from his chair not bothering to turn to look at her, "That man was in love with your mother. He is known to me for inserting himself in your mother's private life when he should not have. I won't denigrate the glorious dead of the war but....she was living in my house. It's not like I didn't know what that man was doing. Don't be stupid, he is coming because you are all that's left of that woman. You and her tomb which just happens to also be here."
Pursing her lips Farren nodded even though she knew he wasn't looking at her. She'd not heard her Grandfather speak so negatively of someone personally attached to her since Declan O'Dwyer proposed to her. It wasn't like Grandfather to comment on whom she socialized with in private. A lump formed in her throat quickly, he had so casually dropped this bomb on her she wasn't sure what to say. Though it had crossed her mind she'd never known for sure the lurid details of Gaius and Victoria. It appeared her Grandfather did and was most hostile towards Gaius because of it. "Yes Sir," she said firmly and walked down the hall towards her own apartments.
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Farren stared at her reflection in the mirror over her vanity her big blue eyes, the only thing about her that resembled her namesake family, abnormally wet to the point her make up was about to smudge. Inhaling deeply she closed her eyes trying to regain composure. Why would her Grandfather say something like that to her? Did he really hate Gaius so much as to comment on him? Or did he think she was truly at risk to fall prey to some scheme? Her hands fumbled for the drawer of her vanity, slipping into the back of the drawer, she clutched a photo and pulled it out. Her mother, dressed in her wedding gown, stared up at her. Lips pursed she leaned closer to the mirror holding the photo up to her face to stare at it next to her reflection. She was not her mother. She did not look that similar. There was no way to easily confuse the two of them. She was lying to herself now for she knew that apart from her blue eyes she was a spitting image of Victoria.
Setting the photo down she stepped back from the vanity. Her mind was reeling now about what she should or shouldn't think. Inhaling sharply she tossed the photo on the make up scattered table. "No! No. You are not your mother. You are your own person and you were chosen. Pyxis wouldn't do something to you that wasn't right. Trust Pyxis."
She smoothed
her golden dress and straightened her heirloom jewelry, pieces that had once belonged to her mother. Gaius was not coming here to walk down memory lane with Victoria. He was an adult, he had seen things, lived life, he knew Farren was her own person. He believed in her. Her ability to carry the weight for their cultural crusade. At least, that was what he seemed to imply to her from within Azkaban. In fact she didn't know what he would be like as a free man, if there was anything to even know about the activities of the nameless young wizards who may or may not have a mark on their arm. Perhaps it was all for naught. Perhaps her little cultural society was as organized as the movement was. It was her hope that this afternoon she would get an idea of just that.
Lifting her chin she crossed her bedroom, through her sitting room, and moved down the long darkened stone hallway of her home. Dalemain was a true estate house, built over multiple centuries from the stones and wood of the land it sat on as foundations. Though it was filled to the brim with priceless relics and heirlooms it was at it's heart a country family home. In the foyer her mother's wand, Death Eater mask, and engagement ring still sat beneath a protective glass dome, surrounded by a floral wreath. The walls of the family's receiving parlor were lined with paintings of Abercrombies of the ages however the largest in the room was a portrait of the current family including a then living Victoria and a teenage Farren. She was gone but traces of Victoria lingered all over the ancestral estate of her husband's family. Her spectre hanging constantly over her bereaved husband and angsty daughter.
Composed at last Farren entered the large receiving parlor where Gaius would be brought upon arrival. She had no idea if he was a punctual man but she'd set the time for 2:30 and it was now 2:25. Her invitation had been simple, her stationary with the words: Dalemain, 2:30pm, the 3rd Friday of October. It had been delivered to him by her signature raven, a gift from her former fiance Declan O'Dwyer. He would have to apparate to the gate house and be escorted to the house by their security wizards as the house had wards to prevent apparation of strangers into the land or house. The heiress sat in the center of the settee in the grand room and waited.
She didn't know what to expect of this meeting but she needed to know what was going on and what Gaius had been up to since release at least as far as the mark on her arm was concerned. Perhaps her Grandfather was right not to trust him. Perhaps he had only agreed to come here to try and get one last shot at glimpsing a piece of Victoria. The opulent, cold, ancient house she'd died in. The large white tomb erected to house her in the family cemetery. The pieces of her life left on display as if she was going to walk through the front door at any moment. Maybe it was just that.
Maybe, but Farren wasn't one to sell herself short. She might be living in a veritable shrine to Victoria but she was in fact her own woman. Words, cunning, and manipulation were her weapons of choice, not the killing curse. Her name, fortune, and rank gave her free entrance to the most exclusive places in the world and could be received by anyone respectable that she may call on. In her short adult life she'd cultivated relationships with powerful political people and drawn attention to her own political aims even if they were small fish for now. If Gaius was coming here only as a courtesy to her mother's memory than he was the fool, not her. She was Farren Abercrombie and nothing was out of her reach.
@Gavin - yeah, yeah I know 3 months late and idk wtf this is but it's UP. happy valentines day.
@Gaius Purcell 
