It had been months since she had dared to step foot onto the property in Cheshire she had once called home; the responsibilities of running a household had left the young woman with little time that was her own. Then again, Genevieve the power to go above and beyond the call of duty when inspired, and had she truly wished to return to the home of her youth, she would have made time that was not there, to begin with. Nevertheless, as time passed along and the attention, she believed belonged to her was redirected to the little creature that had won over everyone else’s affections, Genevieve found herself drifting back into the past, little episodes of nostalgia rolling in and out like the tide as her memory selectively reminded her of fond moments she had shared with her family. Or more particularly, with her cousin Augustus resulting in a sudden urge to see him.
The relationship between the two had always been complicated to say the least. Born only a week apart and, for most of their childhood, playmates, Genevieve had been raised in awe of her (slightly) older cousin, her early years spent diligently clamoring for his attention. Nevertheless, with time and a religiously kept set of traditional values, the two inseparable children drew further and further away from, each other as they fell in tune with their own personalities and expectations. Augustus’ days became consumed with duty while Genevieve rebelled against order through her own set of demands designed to drive the weakest of staff to tears.
The awe she had once had for him had transformed into a strange combination of jealousy and enchantment, the older boy representing everything she would ever look for in a man but also everything she despised about their system, her resentment only growing as the more sadistic aspects of his personality became more apparent. Even so, there was no one that had ever understood how to hurt her as well as he did, his words piercing weapons every time they were used in verbal battle. And in some strange, warped sense of affection, Genevieve understood that to mean that he was one of the very few people she had formed an emotional connection with.
Of course, the appropriate thing would have been to bring the baby and introduce him to the head of the Grosvenor family. Genevieve had not remembered seeing him at the Reinhardt family dinner around Christmas, then again, she had not invited him, still unsure of how he would come to terms with knowing that he was no longer the most important man in her life apart from her father. Naturally, she expected she was still his favorite girl.
“I am not designed to wait on others, Garrison, surely whatever the master is doing does not take
this long, now does it?†she glared cuttingly at the man’s assistant, the word
master emphasized and said in jest. She was mocking him, surely, but it was their way of communication. “And when he does make his grand entrance,†she started, rolling her eyes at the notion, “do make yourself sparse, I absolutely abhor when you eavesdrop into my conversations, don’t think I don’t know that you report to Septimus,†she warned, standing up again as she paced about the room impatiently.
There was no urgency for this meeting apart from Genevieve’s undying need to be noticed, and it was the prospect of his words, no matter how unmerciful they may be, directed in her attention that felt promising. And it was the steps, a sound that for whatever reason she had associated with the pace of his feet, with which she turned towards the doorway and smiled, a strangely girlish, innocent gesture from a woman who believed herself to be hardened by life. “You fool,†she started, walking over quickly as she embraced him, “keeping me waiting as if I am the help, shame on you and your lack of manners,†she chided softly, the tone of her voice and the expression on her face betraying her words, words that she did not mean.
@Augustus Grosvenor 
