Chapter Text
"Oh, please," Maggie laughed, "-a rich man? Here? Never."
You added in a shushed voice, as it was late in the night, "Last man I saw around here was Mr. Knightley, and I'd surely say he's much too old for my taste."
The giggles filled the candle-gleamed room, it was coated in a special shade of orange -almost like a sunset. You thought it'd be a nice painting were you to ever find the motivation to paint.
The rumor that had been spilled in the quiet of the night was a man with a vast fortune on the hunt for a wife -nothing was known about him. Just that he was rich and wife hunting was enough for some people. Most people.
"I heard he's quite handsome," Beth whispered -across the room in her single bed, while you and Maggie shared the double.
You quipped, "I supposed someone imaginary might be so."
The pillow that went flying across the room only allowed more giggles to surmise in the dim room -an aura of pure joy.
Beth, who was now smiling but still wished to be taken seriously, "I'm serious! Cassandra a few towns over said she saw him in his carriage."
"I'm not so sure you should be looking in carriages, Beth," Maggie retorted -laughter on the tip of her tongue.
"You two are despicable," hissed across the space, as yet another pillow flew toward the bed.
It was such a far-off idea, really. A visitor? Here? Really? Alexandria was a far too quiet town for anyone to even travel to. Everyone knew everyone and so a visitor would only be talked about rather than be approached; eyes across the road, everyone would be waiting for a mistake. For something to spread.
"If there is such a man," you spoke, leaning back against the bed after the giggles were silent and the candles extinguished, "-I'd say he's rather brave for it."
You woke up that morning to the birds chirping -bright and sing-songy. It was like an alarm to you, pleasant noises against the cold of the morning and you thought just for a second... Maybe you could sleep in just a few more moments.
"Girls! We must be up and ready," her voice echoed up the stairs -pointed and sort of squeaky, "-I have some grand news!"
Naturally, your Headmistress had halted those plans -always eager to instill proper behavior. It was her job, after all. Your father had hired her, shortly after your mother had passed -a sickness not even your father could fix. It was a difficult decision, but with three young daughters and no mother, you never really blamed him. In order to excel, you needed to be married, and to be married, you needed to be proper.
"If I could, I'd hold the house on my own. But, I'm getting older and I'm not what I used to be."
Your father was much looser on restrictions, and you and your sisters would've never gotten this far with your Headmistress Elisa, tragically. She was quite the bore.
Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you pulled yourself up -beautiful birds washed out by Ms. Elisa's fussing. Quickly brushing your hair back into something more presentable, you shook and woke both of your sisters, whispering that you'd stall until she came looking.
"Headmistress, Father-" you spoke, adjusting your dress (the one you'd hardly worn because it was terribly out of fashion) and stepping out into the open, "-good morning."
Your father was at the table, head flickering between a file laid at his fingertips -a patient, you assumed. He often took cases home that irked him or needed more thought than what he could do at the clinic. Drastically careful with the personal details, you really only learned of medical issues instead of the faces behind them. Your father was adamant in never went farther.
"Good morning, darling," Elisa smiled, a little frustration in the pull of her lips -probably at the noticeable lack at your sides, "-good to know someone listens to me."
And then she paused, eyes racking along the dress you'd chosen in a split second -as you knew she would.
"Oh, no no no-" she echoed, tsking as she pinched the fabric in her hands -eyes analyzing the fabric, "-this won't do, Dr. Greene, we need much better dresses for the girls-"
"Headmistress, I'm sure I could find something more fitting, I foolishly assumed this was just breakfast-"
"Better dresses?" he questioned, file laid closed by his hands, "Whatever for?"
That was when your sisters had joined, hair not perfect but much better than you thought it would be on the time limit. Their dresses were much the same, evidence of a lack of current fashion trends -you flinched at the Headmistress's gaze settling on it.
"Well, now that everyone is present," she spoke, tone clipped and posture impossibly straight, "-Alexandria is expecting rather prolific company."
Father straightened then, attentive to the prospect, "And who may this be? Would I know them?"
"You must-" her voice was almost dreamy at the prospect of such a lavish living, "-the man's rather well-known in Atlanta, rather, the family is. Rhee, darling."
Your father paused seeming to take in the information -like he was trying to remember if he'd known the name, or maybe specifically the person.
"But-" your Headmistress grinned, the most excited you'd ever seen her, "-there’s even more! The younger man of the Rhee name, he's close friends with the man who owns the large estate only a few miles off of here."
"It's safe to assume they'll both be around, then?" Beth asked with the shyness that reflected her age -she was rather doe-eyed.
It had always caused you to worry, your youngest sister out in the world. She was capable, really, just a smidgen naive, and such a beautiful girl can't afford to be naive.
Before the headmistress could answer, Father seemed to add some things together -the furrow on his brow prominent, "Wait, the man who owns the estate? You mean the one off the road around the Henleys?"
"The one with the lavish fountains, yes," Elisa answered, a bit disinterested in this turn of conversation.
"I know Mr. Grimes," he stated -a sort of empathy deeply seeded into his tone, "-and knowing him makes me certain he is not looking for a mistress. Not after the first one."
You pursed your brow, a bit confused by the wording, "Is the man a widow?"
Your father faltered, a bit of uncertainty flattening upon his lips, "Well, not quite, dear. He lost his wife, yes, but not the way you think."
"If you count 'running off with a soldier' losing her, you mean."
Father's face stiffened, "Miss Elisa, it's rather disrespectful to speak of a man's life that way."
"Just the truth, Hershel," she leaned in to you three -whispering the rest, "-I heard it was the man's own best friend."
"If you must know, I'd much rather tell you correctly. Mr. Grimes is a man I rightly respect," your father sighed, a bit of defeat on his tongue but you honestly couldn't say you weren't interested, "-She did run off with a soldier, General Walsh -I believe. And it was Mr. Grimes most trusted companion, a friend from youth from what I understand. Left him and the children about 2 years ago."
Maggie, who'd been silent until now, asked, "Children?"
"Yes," your father added, a little forlorn, "-he's to raise them himself. I find I empathize him."
"More reason for him to be on the look," your Headmistress tsked, "-who wouldn't want a maternal figure for their children? It'd be truly shameful."
You bit your tongue at the implication, heavy stares at your father, "I'm sure he has their best interests at heart, Headmistress. It's not right to assume a man's honor just on rumor alone."
"Not right, indeed," Father agreed, turning back to his file so slightly, "-if he is looking for a mistress, as you say he is, he'd be a wonderful suitor for you girls. So, I'm not very opposed."
And then the Headmistress was off again, fiddling with each sister's hair and pulling out old fabric for ribbons (she asked for new ones, and was met with the conundrum of dress or ribbons). She'd especially fussed over you, being the oldest of the group -she wished to have you married first. "The longer you wait, the harder it'll be, trust me, deary."
Needless to say, you were quite joyous that Headmistress had still sent you on your weekly visit to the shops.
It had intially started much like how this morning had -a wish for anyone to ask for your hand or even begin courting you. After that ended (only because any man in a ten mile radius was either not rich, happily married, or much too old), she'd requested you simply because you were the most trained.
Maggie was in a bit of a rebel streak, Headmistress surely feared any time she left the house without supervisor, and Beth? Well, she was rather well-composed but still naive. The first -and last- time she had gone, she'd spent much more than you'd probably spend in a month. Local men had swindled her and she hadn't even noticed.
You were a middle ground, already having your rebellious streak and fully knowing how to stand your ground.
That morning the market was busier than you expected, as you navigated through the stalls each one only smelling better. Your first stop was always fruit, as the better stock would always be taken early you urged to get the best... reasonably.
The man who ran the stall was kind, had a wonderful smile and always remembered your name, you found you always remembered his : Mr. Elliotts.
He was old, and seemed to only really have the fruits to his name -he was rather fond of talking and had told you a lot. You knew much about the man, and dreaded the day he'd close up shop -you'd miss him if he did.
"Hello, miss," his voice was big and grand, tone ever-so-happy to see you, "-I've got quite the selection for you today. All your favorites."
"After my heart, Mr. Elliotts?"
He laughed, a jolly sort of laugh you would've expected Saint Nick to have when you were young, "Funny, don't let your father hear that one, eh? I've got all types of berries for you, specially grown."
"Oh, thank you," you said, grateful.
Mr. Elliotts was not a clean man, you knew that much, his facial hair was overgrown, and his face was always dusted in a healthy spatter of dirt. It had always just seemed more natural to you, than the other cleaner stalls decorating the square. You knew very well you were often the only customer of his, just because he looked like he'd gotten the fruits himself.
"No problem," he grinned -big and toothy.
Once the conversation had settled, you'd ordered your berries with a sense of ease -merely pointing gently at the types just in case he couldn't hear you. You were comfortable with him and were rather fond of his presence. So even after packing away the fruit you'd bought into your basket, you still stayed near.
After the first few stories though, there was something odd.
On your arm, the basket rested -poised prettily, properly. It felt like a familiar weight at this point -used to the trips that you'd become rather excited about. But what wasn't was the slight tug on your dress -you'd barely noticed it, merely feeling like a gust of wind.
On instinct, though, your head turned to check it -eager to keep your dresses in good condition so your Headmistress wouldn't lose her head. And when you had, you'd met an unfamiliar face.
It was a little girl, her hand cinched on your dress and pulling on the fabric -intent on getting your attention. She was blond, a mess of curls gracing her head only alluding to what she had been up to earlier that day -you couldn't help but smile at her.
"Well, hello, little one," you hummed, crouching down to her side and looking around for anyone that had been looking for her, "-where are your parents?"
The little girl didn't speak, as you thought she might know a few, only leveling with your basket -brown eyes heavily focused on the fruit within. You pursed your lips, watching her as her little tiny hand extended toward you -open and shutting her fingers in a grabbing gesture.
You smiled, still flickering in the crowd for anyone with that familiar worry, "You want one?"
Still crouching down, you fished into your basket -grabbing one that she could hold and gently placing it in her palm. Her grin was a little toothy, as she with ease ate the blueberry -dribbles of the vivid blue making a mess along her mouth.
And then, a voice with an unfamiliar accent spoke about the crowd, "Judith? Where are ya? Have you seen a little toddler 'bout yay big little pink dress, blonde curls-"
Without so much as an extra thought, you gently grabbed her clean hand -keeping her close to your side. Your eyes wandered to match the voice of the man, guiding Judith back to her home. The market was a little too busy to go just on noise-
And then, you saw him.
A tall man with pushed-back brunette curls that were elegantly brushed behind his ears, and a pinch of worry in his eyebrows. He was currently turned to an older lady -crouched slightly to speak to her appropriately. You could see the brush of stubble across his jaw, and a hint of bright blue eyes.
You spared a thought, he's quite pretty. Before pushing it away, and trying to gather his attention, "Sir? Hello, excuse me-"
The man spun to your attention, blue eyes settled intently on you -a bit in shock. You immediately realized he was quite finely dressed for such an occasion, a neatly pressed white shirt and brown vest -a sort of detailed satin. Sleeves elegantly rolled up from the heat, he still looked starchly overdressed -you brushed at your dress insecurely. He seemed to start to say something-
"Dada," the girl, Judith, squealed -escaping your hand to run to him.
The man stalled for a second, eyes still set on you -before seeming to shake his head back into shape. He crouched down to match her enthusiasm, arms open wide and grinning, "Jude, thank god."
Pulling the girl to his chest, he stood. Eyes uncertainly settling on you, but still with an expert air of gratefulness, "Thank you so much, you really don't know what you've done for me, Miss uh-"
"Greene," you answered, unused to such affection displayed by a father -you found it rather charming, "-Ms. Greene. And really there's no need, I'm glad to help. She's a sweetheart."
"No, no, really-" he spoke, still a little uncertain, "-Is there anything at all I could do for ya? You have no idea-" And then he paused, looking towards his daughter with a peculiar eye (the smudge of blue still prominent on her lips) and then your basket.
"Oh, right, sorry-" you apologized, straightening the basket on your arm with a sort of nervous fidget, "-I just bought them from a stall, Mr. Elliotts, she seemed to want one. I apologize if I overstepped-"
"Could I buy ya more?"
You stalled, "I... what?"
He paused, thinking over his own words, "Well, she ate one and I'd like to thank you-"
"Sir, she only ate one," you answered -smiling at the odd idea he'd explained, "-trust me, it won't be missed."
"I insist," he carefully spoke, Judith bouncing gently in his arms a passive sort of affection you found rather endearing.
You opened your mouth, rather unused to such forward generosity -especially for something so simple as what you had done, "Well, it wouldn't-"
And then, as if the world had heard the offer (and hated you), the church bell rang -a sort of melodic noise that brushed over the center. You usually enjoyed it, keen on the tone that settled over your skin, but this time, you didn't.
"Oh, is that the bell?!" you stopped yourself, frantically looking up at the swinging golden symbol, "-I'm so sorry, I'm going to be late for breakfast. Perhaps next time?"
"'Course," he responded -the low rasp of his voice sounded quite melodic itself, you noted, "-'til I see you again. Enjoy your breakfast."
"Right, yes-" you shook yourself out of your stupor, and you think you heard him laugh, "-you and Judith enjoy your day as well, okay?"
"We will," he said -a semblance of a grin brushing across his face, you turned a bit crimson at it. All perfectly white teeth and dashing charm, "-Goodbye, Ms. Greene."
That was the last you heard, as you hurried across the courtyard -not very eager to listen to your Headmistress screech about timeliness and its importance to a proper woman. You'd imagine she'd nearly die if she could see you running through the courtyard now, actually.
You thought, just for a spare second, it might be worth it.