[cork] getting used to the noise. [evie]

“Well this isn’t really what I’d call normal,” she complained, but only because Genevieve had felt slightly jilted by the idea that Nessa might have considered this to be all that the young heiress’ life amounted to. There was always that innate desire to be seen as superior to the rest, a belief that the woman had held fast to since she was a child. There was nothing normal about staying inside of the house for such a long period of time, in the same way that there was nothing normal about dreading the arrival of a child.

And though Genevieve followed family tradition as if her fate had been etched in stone from her birth, it was one of the events in her life that felt out of the ordinary, and rather dull, to an otherwise extraordinary life. In a way, her visibility was her career, the expression of her thoughts on subjects from politics to magical creatures to demure things like fashion her livelihood. Her payment had nothing to do with sickles, contrary to popular belief the young witch had no interest in money, but one might argue that was a privilege of the rich.

Rather than sickles, the heiress was paid in compliments and points that elevated her status within the small circles she spent most of her time with. It was no easy task, being the most envied witch in all of England, but it was something she strived for with as much motivation as one might should they seek out the position of Minister for Magic.

“I certainly do not work out, this figure runs in our family believe it or not,” she added proudly, but there was little to be proud about. Just like anyone else, she suffered from the grave illness that was insecurity, even if she had learned how to conceal it from others. It was a point she did not want to dwell on for much longer. “You ought to start working on a magical cure then,” she added arrogantly, “considering all that free time you have, one would think you’re always on the verge of a breakthrough. But perhaps when I am well again I’ll put you up to some friendly competition, you haven’t any idea how much unbridled potential I have within me, especially when it comes to Potioneering, it is, after all, in my family’s blood,” she added with a small grin.

“We must discuss when you plan to move in with me, perhaps in December? I wouldn’t want to be kept waiting should my son want to make an appearance,” she looked at her suspiciously. “I am having a son, yes? Like you’ve promised that I would?” the woman had said no such thing but Genevieve was not beyond coming to her own conclusions.

Nessa's fine eyebrows raised and lowered, raised and lowered, as she went from frustrated to mildly impressed right back to frustrated again. This was how every conversation with Genevieve was going to go, a conclusion she was quickly coming to, and Nessa reminded herself to do the job. This was her job; her career and reputation were quite literally on the line, so she kept calm, for now. She didn't believe for a second Evie just looked this way without a single ounce of work, but considering the way she'd been drinking the vitamin potions like they were meal replacements, Nessa figured that was how she kept her shape. Not the Irish witch, no, Nessa enjoyed eating, and she put in the work to stay fit. She wasn't nearly as skinny as the woman before her, pregnant or not, but she was good with that too.

"Free time?" She asked, an incredulous look crossing her dark features. Nessa considered explaining that Evie was not her only client. Her most time-consuming client absolutely, but certainly not the only one. She also ran the shop in Cork, had her own personal projects, and an undying need to learn everything put in front of her. Nessa was certainly busy.
But she knew better than to goad Evie by saying anything of the sort. She imagined the witch would demand she only work with her until after the pregnancy, or something equally unreasonable, and Nessa wasn't going to risk that conversation even if she might have been able to weasel a bit more sickles out of the deal. Instead, she dropped it, shaking her head a single time before they moved on.

"I do not think that is required." Nessa held firm; she did not want to live in this house, where Evie could bother her with nonsense at any given moment. "I can make arrangements to stay the last week of December when the child is due to be born, but no sooner and not after." Nessa narrowed her eyes at the other witch, drawing another hard line. She signed up to deliver the baby, to keep it safe and healthy until the moment it left the womb, and nothing more. She was not a babysitter. Even though it had to be said, Nessa assumed the expecting mother had already lined up a wet nurse and a platoon of nannies. Merlin forbid Genevieve Reinhardt needs to change a dirty diaper.

"I promised no such thing," Sighing and shaking her head again, Nessa gave her client a look. "We will be able to tell with certainty in a few weeks; until then, you just have to be patient." Was the witch even capable of that? Nessa couldn't help but wonder. She knew she wouldn't have liked that answer if the roles were reversed, but they never would be because she was never going to have a child.

“That’s what I said,” Genevieve insisted, her eyebrows rising just a little in challenge, wondering if the woman would be bold enough to take her on in an argument, especially when she knew that lately, Genevieve had both the time and the energy to argue until the following year if she needed to. Though she was taking out her frustration on this free time she assumed the woman had, it was her actual freedom that truly bothered her. There was nothing wrong with her husband, in fact, Genevieve was terribly fond of Wolfie as their history together might have suggested.

But the entire institution of marriage had never sat well with her, and the thought that she had left the table of youthful women discussing their interest in dresses and eligible bachelors for the table of middle-aged women complaining about their lack of sex, rowdy children, and utter dissatisfaction with life made her dread the day that her child was born. With every day, the woman grew considerably restless and in turn, a complete menace to whoever had the misfortune of provoking her that day.

“I do not like these arrangements,” she said plainly, a frown just barely causing her brows to furrow in displeasure at the thought that she would be left alone. This was not something she could so freely express, however, but only because of the thought that she might seem weak to the woman before her only made it that much harder, to be honest with herself. “Your responsibility is to be sure that my every whim is met, if I wanted you to move in right now, the proper response would be Certainly, what room shall I take, and not a word more,” she added, sighing heavily at the realization that this would not be how it happened.

“Children are not normally born on their due date,” she said after a while, her eyes wandering to the portrait of her parents that sat on the wall of the dining room. Genevieve herself was born a week or two later than expected. “I’ve read this in a book, so how can you guarantee that you will be here at the appropriate time? And what shall I do if the child suddenly decides to come and arrives before you can appear? And what if I die? What shall you do then?” she continued, only half-jokingly. The thought that she would indeed suffer a most terrible fate upon the birth of her child lingered in her words.

“You seem to be making many promises that you might not be able to keep,” she stated, leaning in closer, “I’ve consulted a seer and she had plenty to see about you and your strange practices,” she added. It was something she knew that Nessa would not care for as the woman had explicitly asked her not to consult any sort of clairvoyant. Regardless, Genevieve was much too restless and simply could not resist which only managed to fill her with much more worry than comfort. "A Madame Sosostrist, have you heard of this woman?"

Nessa inspected her fingernails as Evie began to explain how she thought this was supposed to go. There was no way in hell that the Regan witch was going to spend any more time in this manor than she needed to. She wasn't a life in nurse, she wasn't a maid, and she certainly wasn't going to meet every one of Genevieve's whims. You have me mistaken with your servants; I am here to see to the health of the child only." Nessa had never minded being needlessly cruel, but it seemed like politeness and tact were not translating well enough to her customer. Genevieve was mad if she thought Nessa had signed up to wait on her hand and foot. She wasn't being paid nearly enough for that, not that she would have done it at any price. "The arrangement we made was for the safe delivery of a healthy heir. You are the mother, and I will keep you alive, but it is not my duty to keep you happy. Perhaps you should call on your husband, or hire someone else, for that task."

The healer gave a sharp nod, noting she was done speaking on the matter, but she doubted it would be the last time they discussed it. In a way, Nessa respected that about Evie, she was decisive and persistent, but on this, the Regan witch would not budge. She wasn't a nanny, not for the child, and certainly not for its mother. Nessa rolled her eyes at the other woman's scenario, shaking her head before she was even finished speaking, and was at the ready when she was given a chance to respond. "That is impossible; the ring will alert me the second the delivery begins and will apparate me directly to you, wherever you are." Nessa had been extra careful when crafting the ring for Genevieve, ensuring it could be used as a doorway and move through any barrier magic she may have been behind. Dark witches loved to hide in their stone towers behind all sorts of magic.

Sucking in a breath, Nessa quite literally bit down on the inside of her cheek to avoid cursing out loud. She was trying to play nice, but Evie had gone and done one of the few things that irritated Nessa the most in this world. "I have not, but if you'd like for this wench to take over, then by all means. Why not have her deliver the baby as well?  I'm sure she would be delighted to maltreat your child in the same way she does her idiotic crystal ball," Nessa pushed her chair back from the table with a sigh. "If there is nothing else, I will be going," She hadn't planned to stay as long as she had, and Nessa had other things to tend to, not to mention the grocery list of issues she needed to deal with after this meeting. Evie was becoming a much larger challenge than Nessa had initially imagined.

“Hm,” Genevieve started, making sure to take her time as she fiddled with the ring on her finger, not at all invested in anything that Nessa had to say contrary to what she had already decided in her own head. “Well considering I am paying you for all of this, does this not mean that you are at my service? But if being the strong, independent woman you think you make you more efficient at doing your job then by all means,” she waved her hand in the servant's direction to excuse them from the corner of the room. The young woman really did hate when the servants stood in the corners of the room so eager to hear what she had to say about everything. Annoying little pests. “But I suppose as long as the child arrives as quickly and as painlessly as possible, I will make do with that, it is the least that I’ve asked of you,” she added shifting in her chair before smiling at the woman sitting across from her in that condescending sort of way she was known to do.

“You have a lot of faith in your abilities, I suppose confidence in those matters is important,” she deduced, though Genevieve was plenty confident in the woman’s ability to do the task she had been assigned, otherwise she would not have given her the task, to begin with. The heiress was many things, but a fool she was not. Even if she was plenty confident, the witch could not deny the sort of pleasure she derived from torturing her guest, knowing that there was probably plenty she wanted to say that she was holding back. Torrence was the same way, always had something to counter the witch but often found it easier to do so in bed, which had made him quite the exciting little verbal sparring partner. But relationships between women were not so easy to come by, especially for someone of Genevieve’s volatile nature, so the sense of power she felt in this situation was twofold.

Of course, when Nessa showed just a bit more of her true feelings, the anger with which she spoke her next sense enough to send Genevieve into a happy fit of giggles, she shook her head. “Oh no, I could never, but she was certainly much more pleasant than you are, darling, which will mean the world to me once I’ve given birth to this little burden,” she smiled, finally standing up and following suite. “You ought to visit again, having you over is absolutely delightful, Nessa.”

Even though she knew Evie was only half listening to her, Nessa felt it was important to lay down real guidelines. She wasn't going to live here; she wasn't at the other witch's disposal. She was hired for a specific service, and she would complete it impeccably, but that was all. The remark about being an independent woman did nothing for Nessa. Even if she hated the way that Evie seemed to look down on her and the way she did not hold back in letting her know it, Nessa was comfortable with herself. She knew who she was, and she liked that person. She didn't need some heiress twenty-something that let herself get knocked up by some wizard she probably couldn't stand to tell her how to live. In reality, Evie reminded her of everything she could have been, and damn, had she dodged a bullet.

"Then perhaps invite her over to do your bidding; it seems you are short one staff member at the moment," Nessa motioned toward the servants that had just been dismissed and were hurriedly filing out of the room. "Maybe the soothsayer will be a better chef than the last. Honestly, I expected higher quality from those in your employ," Nessa was poking back now. Ten more minutes, and things were going to spiral very quickly. Women like Genevieve and Nessa didn't duel or fight physically, but it was still plenty violent when the claws came out. Nessa stood from her chair, expecting a maid to tuck it back under the table, and gathered her bag over her shoulder.

"Find something you can keep down; your heir needs solid foods and plenty of rest. Be sure to keep the ring on at all times, it doesn't work if you aren't wearing it. Should it clash with your outfit, either suck it up or wear it on a chain around your neck that can be hidden" Nessa was good at barking orders, so much so that it calmed her down enough to pull a pleasant smile before heading to the door. "Thank you for having me,"

And with that, she walked out the door that was opened for her, apparated home, and poured a double of the strongest whiskey she had.

[/out]

“Oh the poor old woman wouldn’t last a day, though seeing her was absolutely worth it considering it’s certainly got your knickers in a twist,” she added, her giggling continued, she was finding it difficult to contain her delight and it made her wonder when was the last time she had laughed in such a manner. But soon enough, as soon as the servants returned into the room as they had heard the sounds of departure, the heiress quieted down, reminding herself that this was not the face that just anyone had the pleasure of seeing and if she was to maintain any order in the palatial home that was now at her single-handed command, she could not allow them to see her like this. So, instead, she followed Nessa to the other side of the room, her hands kept neatly behind her as she walked.

“If we are all fortunate enough, it will be done and over with quite soon,” she added, intent on reading about ways to induce labor as soon as she had the time to do so. She had heard of the horror stories that the Lovecraftian women went through in the pains of labor and wished to go through no such thing, especially if it would show a side of her weakness to anyone apart from her husband. And even then, there as absolutely no way she’d ever let Wolfie know about it either. He could join her after everything was over and done with, this was a matter of women, men were not needed. “Of course,” she added graciously, stopping at the door as it opened and waited until her guest disappeared.

It was then that her smile fell, and once again surrounded by the loneliness that was her grand home and the dreariness that was Cork, she walked off in the direction of the library in hopes of entertaining herself until she’d eventually be overcome with sleep and forced to do it all over again tomorrow.

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