Chapter Text
The way it starts is, well, strange, but that is only to be expected with Lady Baskerville.
One evening, Barok receives an invitation—or perhaps, more accurately, a demand—that he meet her at noon only the day after the note arrives.
Beyond his desire not to anger her, his curiosity is piqued by him alone being given such an invitation. It’s rare for her to invite him without his brother; though, in all fairness, it is not much more often she invites Klint alone either.
Things become more curious when he enters the parlor to see Miss Oakley on the sofa. This in and of itself is not strange, the two of them are practically inseparable. What is odd is their being—presumably—the only two summoned.
Miss Oakley sets down the book in her hands, looking up and smiling warmly. “Mr. van Zieks! What a treat this is.”
“Miss Oakley,” he responds with a polite nod. “Have you seen our hostess yet?”
“Hardly, but I’m certain she’ll be down once she hears you’ve arrived.”
“You know why we’ve been summoned then?”
She laughs at that, but he knows not why. “I have suspicions, you could say.” Miss Oakley tilts her head at him. “Do sit down, you make me anxious standing around like that.”
Barok does, in the chair just opposite. “Of course you’re right.”
It’s then that Lady Baskerville appears, practically throwing open the doors—not that he had noticed their closing—to announce her entrance.
“Barok, how good to see you!” she cheers, skirts swishing about her ankles as she walks purposefully into the room. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come in the end.”
“I am glad to, though I confess my curiosity as to the purpose of this visit.”
“Yes, I thought you would like that.” Lady Baskerville settles beside Miss Oakley, placing a hand over hers. “I’m organizing a picnic and I need your input most desperately.”
Now that is unexpected. “I cannot think why.”
“Well, I am absolutely dying to meet your Mr. Dobinbough and I can hardly invite him without an address.”
Barok looks to Miss Oakley with wide, almost panicked eyes. She shrugs slightly, shaking her head.
He supposes it was unreasonable to think she wouldn’t find out.
“If it would please you.”
“It would please me very much. I’ve found this lovely spot just beside a brook and I think it would be the perfect meeting space for us.”
He can hardly argue that. It will be nice, at least, as her gatherings always are.
“And you!” Lady Baskerville turns to Miss Oakley, it being her turn to appear shocked. She wears it better, her eyes wide but not saucers and the part of her lips ever so gentle. “I insist on meeting this Mr. Vigil you’ve been talking about. I can’t believe you kept him from me this long already.”
Miss Oakley blinks owlishly. When she speaks, her voice is soft—vulnerable, even, “I cannot guarantee he would accept.”
“He will,” Lady Baskerville replies with an all knowing smirk. “Once I tell him you’ll be there.”
A bright blush blooms across Miss Oakley’s cheeks. “If you say so.”
“I most certainly do.” Lady Baskerville turns back to him, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “Now onto the menu. I am all too glad you’re making time for us between classes, you simply must help me plan our luncheon.”
“It has been many years since I attended a picnic. I would not know where to begin.”
“What nonsense, Barok! There is no need at all for you to choose fashionable dishes. I will not accept that as an excuse.”
“Flora, you know some dishes are better suited than others for a picnic,” Miss Oakley interjects sensibly. “Barok has hardly organized such a party before. Nor is he like to remember what was served at any he has attended.” She looks briefly at him, offering a smile before returning her attention to Lady Baskerville. “Why not simply draw up a list of possible dishes and allow him to choose from those? It would give a much better result than putting him on the spot in this way.”
Lady Baskerville sighs dreamily, lifting one of Miss Oakley’s hands and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “You are correct as always, my dear.” Placing their hands back down, Lady Baskerville keeps one interlocked with Miss Oakley’s. With what seems like great effort, she tears her gaze away and looks back at him. “Let us settle on the sweet and then I will send you a list of the savory. How is that?”
“Perfectly agreeable,” he answers, though he likely would have said the same if it were not as it’s almost certainly the best compromise Lady Baskerville would offer.
The back and forth that follows is… Interesting. Klint often handles the meals at the Van Zieks home without much input from Barok. The questions are mostly a simply this or that, but he still hesitates at controlling what is served—not just for him and their typical group, but Benjamin and this Mr. Vigil as well.
Apart from that, it’s not terribly remarkable. It’s perhaps an hour or so before the dishes are decided upon and yet another before Lady Baskerville is content with their conversations. She stands at last. “I’ll see you out, then,” she tells, or perhaps instructs, them. “I will summon the carriage while you two gather your things.” With that, she takes her leave in rather a blur of pink silk and lace.
“Thank you for saving me,” Barok says as Miss Oakley stands, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles of her skirt.
“Any time,” she responds, adjusting her hat as Barok dons his own. “But I would not recommend counting on me come picnic day.”
“I might say the same.”
She laughs softly at that. “Yes, I suppose you could.”
Each of them now ready to leave, Barok offers his arm to Miss Oakley. She takes it gracefully just as he remarks, “Dare I wonder for what purpose Lady Baskerville does not use the bell?”
“No, I would not.” Miss Oakley glances up as he leads her into the hall, a spark of amusement in her gaze. “Though I would be so bold as to suggest she wishes to encourage that we converse with each other.”
“Well, I, for one, am in disbelief she would sponsor such inappropriate attachment.”
At that, Miss Oakley snorts. A lesser man might call it unladylike, but he’s only glad to cause such amusement. “No, indeed, very unlike her,” Miss Oakley adds, her grin practically audible.
They reach the street door then. Barok reaches to open it, only for it to suddenly be thrown open from the opposite side.
They’re greeted by the welcoming, slightly flushed face of Lady Baskerville. “There you two are!” she exclaims. “I’ve brought the carriage around. Do let me see you home.”
Barok shares a look with Miss Oakley, who replies for them both, “By no means would we deny you the pleasure.”
Which is true, particularly for Miss Oakley herself, but it must also be said that Lady Baskerville is a rather insistent hostess and, as such, it’s preferable to simply let her do what she wishes when possible.
Lady Baskerville descends the stairs ahead of them. Barok takes the opportunity to quietly ask, “When shall I be expecting her correspondence?”
“I should not be surprised if a footman arrives within the hour,” Miss Oakley whispers back.
“I suppose the invitation will come the day after, then.”
She hums mildly. “Perhaps, but she may wish to secure Benjamin first.”
“I would not think her to be in doubt of his acceptance.”
“No, I don’t think she is. She is, however, loathe to disappoint you, on the off chance it happens.”
Barok does not get the chance to reply, as they reach the carriage before he has even begun to formulate his thoughts.
The carriage ride itself is uneventful. He can’t help being surprised at that, having expected Lady Baskerville to interrogate him about Benjamin the whole way. Rather, she almost… Ignores him. She talks with Miss Oakley about possible savory dishes for the picnic, only occasionally looping him in to the conversation.
They, of course, stop at the Oakley’s home first. Lady Baskerville kisses Miss Oakley goodbye before Barok helps her out of the carriage. They wait until, with a wave, she gets inside before signaling the driver.
It’s the perfect moment for Lady Baskerville to ask him anything that may come to her mind.
Yet, she does not. Instead, she inquires after his work, his brother, his dog… anything and everything except the picnic.
“I will have the list for your choosing before the end of the day,” she finally says as the carriage begins to slow down. “If you have any questions, please do send them over or call on me tomorrow.”
“I will,” he responds obligingly, kissing the back of her hand when it is offered before stepping out of the carriage.
The list, as predicted by Miss Oakley, is delivered by hand not 45 minutes later. Little notes accompany each dish, as well as a list of the dessert they decided upon to accompany the luncheon.
Assuming there is only to be six of them, he needn’t pick a great many things… However, he has only eaten with Benjamin a handful of times so perhaps it is better to pick a variety. A small one, at least.
About half an hour later, Barok has finally decided on a moderate selection of dishes. He sends it back to Lady Baskerville soon after, then, having checked the time, goes upstairs to dress for dinner.
If nothing else, today’s events should make for an easy conversation with his brother. It may be needed, considering that—seeing as Lady Baskerville knows—Klint has almost certainly found out about Benjamin.
It’s not that he was hiding it but, well, he wasn’t exactly eager to share either. Miss Oakley knew already, yes, but she’s… Not as intense as Klint and Lady Baskerville often can be.
Barok sighs.
It hardly matters now.
All that is left to do is simply see what happens.