Chapter Text
Social season was about to start, and the amount of work needed to be done at the estate was overflowing. It has been a while since a somewhat formal event had been held at your home. As much as possible, your father avoided arranging such huge gatherings for it usually caused a lot of arguments and headaches to arise.
The only reason your father approved of the event was with a deal he had made with your aunt; she’s been persistent in nagging your father to allow you to be whisked away and “trained” to become a “proper” woman in the prospect of eventually, marrying you off to some rich lord. This event was seen as the perfect time to attempt such a plan. Your aunt saw you as some sort of hermit, unwilling to attend events and unknowledgeable as to how to act in society. Apparently for her, growing up with a governess was not enough of an education for manners and the like.
Being the eldest and only child in the family, there was great pressure for you to marry early on. Added to this, with you being a woman, it has already been accepted that the estate was to be passed down to a supposed distant male cousin. With your parents not being able to produce a male heir—you did in fact want a younger brother but alas—the only expectation they (your father; may your mother’s soul rest in peace) had for you now was to marry into a good family.
Your father had initially said no to your aunt’s plan, finding the constant nagging a valid enough reason to decline her request. While your father wasn’t that much concerned about marrying you off yet, your aunt was (after your mother’s death, she has made it her personal mission to get you hitched). You yourself weren’t keen on the idea of marriage either, choosing to skip social events which made the pool of possible candidates for marriage small. However, knowing that you’ve been actively avoiding gatherings such as this, holding the event at your estate would mean you would have no choice but to attend—making the matchmaking business easier for your aunt. After much deliberation, your father opened the estate as host for the next ball.
Naturally, the plan to host the event wasn’t privy to you until two weeks before the set date; your aunt decided to grace you with the good news when she decided to—suspiciously—invite you for luncheon over at her place.
“You seem excited,” you eye her quietly attempting to sit still.
“Hm?” She set down her cutlery, turning to you with a grin on her face.
It seems that she was fighting to burst out some piece of information to you; the amount of self-control she was currently displaying was something new, scaring you a bit further on what urgent news she could possibly tell you.
“How’s your father?” She decided to divert the conversation. With your aunt’s current behavior, you could assume that she’s attempting to soften the blow of what’s about to come.
“Papa is in good health, still out and about. I believe he has a meeting in town today, actually.”
“That’s good to hear.” An awkward silence enveloped the conversation.
Seeing that it was taking a while for your aunt to get to the point, you’ve decided to just ask her directly, “what is this good news that you speak of from your letter?” You mustered a smile, trying to look less tense.
“Well…”
“Does it have to do anything about finding me a suitor?”
“I mean…” Your aunt knew how delicate the topic of marriage was for you; she hated how she was expected to deliver the news to you and not your father.
“Aunt Isabel, I’m perfectly capable of finding myself a suitable husband—if I even want one in the first place.”
“Look, I know your father doesn’t openly talk to you about things such as this. This is understandable for he’s not quite knowledgeable on matters of the heart. God knows how he was able to woo your mother.” You smile at this. Your mother was rarely brought up to avoid upsetting your father; while it does not upset you as much, it leaves you feeling bitter for a while.
Aunt Isabel watches your reaction and gives you a soft smile. You’d expect the sudden mention of your mother to hurt her more so, being loving sisters and all that.
You give in and listen intently, awaiting her good news.
“What I was trying to say was, just let me try to help you in that front—love and other frilly matters that otherwise you wouldn’t care about. There’s an upcoming event to be held at the estate. It would be a great opportunity for us to make your presence known and meet suitable bachelors.”
While the news was surprising, it wasn’t as sensational as you’ve hoped it to be.
“I’m assuming papa already knows of this?”
“Yes. He’s asked me to tell you as soon as possible, however, now’s the only time I was able to inform you of the ball. I apologize, I was very busy the past week for I was helping plan the event.”
“Why didn’t he tell me first? I know he doesn’t like parties to be held at the estate—why go through all of these things and not even inform me about it?”
“Oh, you know George, he probably didn’t want to upset you. He’s not really the confrontational type.” Your aunt shrugs, expecting you to get over it quick, though, knowing that you would argue with your father over this for at least a whole day.
“He asked you to tell me so I could instead be upset with you?” Both of you laugh at this realization.
“What say you? General preparations begin in a day or so; invitations are to be sent out within the day. If the ball was to take place two weeks from now, we should probably go out tomorrow and get you fitted for new garments.” She begins to scan you over and create a mental list of things to buy.
“Well, it’s not like I have any choice.” You couldn’t believe you got tricked by both your father and aunt into attending a huge social event—the first one for the season, even.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” your aunt smiled victoriously. You hummed in reply, not really in the mood now to argue further with the decision. The both of you continue to eat in silence, enjoying the rare occasion to dine outside by the gardens with such pleasant weather. After goodbyes were exchanged, and a reminder that you two were to go out tomorrow, an automobile was called from the estate to fetch you.
You did not expect the luncheon with your aunt to have taken so much time, arriving at your home already late into the afternoon. The estate was quite a large one, with an expansive lawn and a forest nearby that was especially packed during hunting season. While the building itself hadn’t looked like it aged that much from its first owners centuries past, there were visible signs of wear in its exterior; hopefully, the guests wouldn’t mind that much. Knowing the huge event scheduled, your father will certainly fuss about and see to it that the whole estate is diligently scrubbed clean. With the car driving into the curve, you notice another vehicle parked by the main entrance; you’ve expected its owner has already made themselves at home inside. After an exhausting—a bit exaggerated—afternoon with your aunt, chatting with a familiar face was a preferable calming activity for the remainder of the day.
Walking through the main foyer, you notice a couple of crates and parcels laid out on the floor. You didn’t expect that as soon as you’ve heard the news, actual preparation was already to happen at home. You’re assuming your father planned for the deliveries to start once Aunt Isabel had done her task of informing you—with the hopes of not startling or scaring you off. With the number of things that came in today, you only expected things to ramp up over the next few days.
Heading into your father’s private study slash receiving room, with a little bit of excitement starting to bubble in your stomach, you see a blond-headed man walking about and carefully reading the titles on the shelves. He was wearing a crisp dark suit, swirling a glass of whiskey as he went over the different books.
“Lord Helmut” you walked over to the new section of titles he was mulling over. The man glanced over to his side meeting your eyes, giving a small smile accompanied by a head tilt to acknowledge your presence.
Baron Helmut Zemo was a family friend. The both of you were on good terms; he was a frequent visitor at the estate, with each interaction you’ve had being pleasant so far. Your father has recently decided to take him up and train him to oversee the many properties he managed all over the county. With the house being too large and empty for your father’s liking, every visitor was warmly welcomed here—your family apparently needed all the company they could get.
“I’ve heard that you’ve gone out to meet with your aunt. How was it?” After much contemplation, he eventually pulls out a book.
“Well, much to everyone’s dismay, I’m still a spinster.” The lord released an amused huff.
“According to your father, that remains to be seen.” You quirk your eyebrows up at this.
“So, you’ve already heard of the news I presume?” The topic of marriage was about to be brought up again much to your dismay; after reaching your daily quota from your aunt, you’ve expected no one else to mention it afterward. Walking over to the sofa by the fireplace, you hoped for this conversation to end soon.
“With all the crates laid out in the foyer, it’s very hard to miss.” You snorted. He then proceeds to point at your father’s rather messy desk. It was cluttered with invitations for the ball.
“A ball doesn’t sound too bad. Do try to enjoy yourself.” He trod over to the sofa in front of you, setting his glass down on the coffee table with his chosen book. A tired sigh escapes your lips.
“Anyway, what brings Baron Zemo here?” A masterful attempt to change the topic. Having a very persistent aunt, one would expect you to know a handful of conversation-maneuvering tactics.
“I’ve met with your father a while ago and we’ve actually just got back from a meeting in town. At the moment, he’s fetching a few documents for us to review on his newly acquired factory up north.” He crossed his legs by the ankle, now only being able to relax on the sofa. You’ve observed that it’s a habit of his—it’s like his legs were consistently too long for all the chairs he’s ever sat on.
“Ah, I see. Hence, the fancy new suit, and dare I say freshly groomed hair.” You couldn’t help but bite your cheeks.
A smirk was threatening to form on his lips. “If only you were this nice to your potential suitors, your dear aunt wouldn’t be bending over backwards trying to get you hitched.”