Chapter Text
It was the first ball of the season and Duke Elliot Stabler had already regretted attending. He had been able to miss out the previous season due to being in mourning but now that he had been personally invited by Prince Donald, his presence was mandated. Of course the news that a wealthy widower Duke was attending the ball had filtered through the ton and he had been doing his best to avoid the women (some of whom were still girls) who were attempting to get his attention or an invitation to dance. Elliot was no fool; he knew that despite being older than most of the bachelors at the ball, he ranked fairly high on the list of marriage prospects. The Stabler family had long since held one of the largest and wealthiest duchies in the kingdom, he had five children, he and Kathryn had had a long, loving marriage, he had never taken a mistress, and if he said so himself, he was quite handsome. However Elliot didn’t just feel that he wasn’t ready for this, he knew that he wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t want to remarry. He didn’t need a wife.
However, his children needed a mother.
Maureen was twelve, almost about to begin the transition to womanhood and there were many aspects of that which he had never been prepared for. There were many ‘ladies things’ which Kathryn had explained to him but the thought of telling Maureen or his other daughters was enough to turn his ears scarlet.
Kathleen was nine, a precocious child and budding musician with a passion for the pianoforte and it was only recently that she felt able to play again; she and Kathryn spent hours practising together.
The twins, Elizabeth and Richard were five, rambunctious and eager to find adventure in this world and only just accepted the fact that their mother had gone away and had stopped asking when she would be coming back.
Baby Elliot was just over a year and beginning to toddle and babble words; the first time he said ‘Mama’; they had all wept for hours. Kathryn had died in childbirth; she had only lived long enough to hold Baby Elliot once and insist that he be named for his father before she slipped into eternal sleep.
The four elder children knew and understood that their mother was gone but the past year had told him that although they were a devoted, loving family; a mother was still desperately needed. Elliot knew that Kathryn was irreplaceable and her love and presence would always be felt in their home, her portraits were still in the drawing room, lounge and their bedroom. However a presence could not provide guidance. A portrait could not embrace a crying child. Love from Heaven could only reach so far.
He had always been pragmatic. His children needed a mother. Therefore he needed to find them a mother.
And the other word for ‘mother’ in these circles was ‘wife’.
“Elliot, I’m pleased that you’re here.” Prince Donald said as he joined Elliot who bowed at the prince’s arrival. The elder cousin of the king smiled knowingly at him as more looks turned their way. In that instant, Elliot knew he had reached the top of the potential marriage prospects list. As a result of the notoriously grumpy prince having addressed him like an old friend, which he admittedly was, the prospect of nearing their families to the throne was enough for any of the social climbers at the ball to trust their daughters and sisters towards Elliot.
“I couldn’t refuse an instruction from a prince.” Elliot replied politely. Of course he had refused Donald’s instructions before, more often than not, however to refuse a royal invitation was an act of disrespect that would not have been forgiven. A widowed, wealthy duke was a fine catch, a disgraced one was not.
“No, you can’t,” Donald stated good-naturedly. “I want to introduce you to someone.”
“I would rather you didn’t.” Elliot replied and was surprised at the amused chuckle let out by the prince. “What is it?”
“You know, she said exactly the same thing.” Prince Donald explained as he led Elliot across the ballroom, thankfully away from the crowds to where a woman was standing alone. Her gaze was fixated on her fan and she was clearly determined to attract as little attention as possible. A feat made even more difficult by her obvious beauty.
“Olivia,” Prince Donald said as they approached, the woman turned and respectfully curtsied to the prince. “May I introduce Duke Elliot Stabler. Elliot, this is my ward, Viscountess Olivia Benson.”
‘Some things never change,’ Olivia thought to herself as she felt the familiar judgmental stares and glares as she entered the ballroom. It was as familiar as the sound of the orchestra or a dance card tied around a wrist. Even before Prince Donald had adopted her as his ward when her mother passed when she was fourteen, Olivia had been aware of her lowly place in this world.
She was a bastard. Not only a bastard, but a bastard daughter. A bastard daughter of an orphaned only daughter; a drunken spinster whom no one wanted. A bastard daughter begotten of rape. (Although that last detail remained strictly within the confidence of her and Prince Donald. As far as anyone else ever bothered to check, her mother had eloped with a stable boy or perhaps a kitchen boy, someone too low to even acknowledge.)
Even without the truth of her illegitimacy; a lack of a father, grandfather, uncle or cousin meant that her prospects were limited from birth. Being born a girl was just an additional insult. Had she been a boy, there was some meager room for her to have been accepted or at least tolerated. The reality was, she ought to have been packed off to an orphanage or left as a foundling; it may have been a common life but at least she wouldn’t have felt as alone. Instead she was stuck between the worlds, too lowly for society, to high for the common folk.
Her best course of action had been to become invisible but of course, life never wanted things to be simple for her. Her mother’s drunken outbursts at society events had made them a laughing stock and the source of gossip, ridicule and worst of all, pity. After her mother’s death, the position of Viscountess went to her; a fourteen year old girl with little prospects, no other family and a world ready to eat her alive. That had been when Prince Donald stepped in, a widower who had refused to marry after the death of Princess Margarey, adopted her as his ward. Although it didn’t change her legitimacy or social standing, it meant that at least someone cared about her.
Olivia knew that there was nothing she could do to ingratiate herself to society. If she didn’t speak to the other ladies, she was seen as a snob. If she tried to speak to them, she was seen as desperate to make friends. No one asked her to dance since she had first come out into society. Vain as it sounded, Olivia knew that it was not for a lack of attraction; she saw how the men looked at her when their wives weren’t looking; but rather because she made her feelings clear. Most men assumed that since she was a bastard, she would be more willing to be a harlot or their mistress and when her verbal refusals failed, she allowed her fists to speak for her instead. There were only so many Earls, Dukes and Counts she could punch in the face before the others got the hint: leave her alone.
And so she was alone. No true friends. No real family. Just an elderly prince who was too honourable to break a promise he had made to a fourteen year old orphan. There were times when she could almost convince herself that her isolation was preferable. Without an overbearing parent or a husband, she had been able to study and read to her hearts’ content. She had even had papers on law published, under a pseudonym of course. She helped her local communities and did her best to avoid gossip. She turned old dresses and articles of clothing into blankets for the church orphanages and she pretended that she was happy.
There were also times when she wished she had had the courage to be what they expected her to be. To dress inappropriately and flirt with married men, to cause a scene and challenge those who whispered behind her back, to not care what anyone thought of her. Times when she could forget all of the manners, etiquette and elocution that had been rigorously taught to her from a young age and instead fight, swear and drink like any man. At least if she had done that, then the gossip about her would actually be interesting.
Sadly, she did not possess that courage. Hers was a silent courage, to endure the insults, taunts and pity with a watchful eye. Olivia knew that she was the warning story told to the girls upon their debut; that they ought to marry the first man who asks, lest they end up like Viscountess Benson.
Olivia looked back at her fan which had some of her favourite poetry written on it. It had taken hours to meticulously copy onto the fan without bending the folds or tearing it and she had been pleased with the end result. She was reading one of Byron’s verses when she heard Prince Donald say her name. Olivia curtsied and realised that he wasn’t alone. A rather dashing man with bright blue eyes was with him, a man she wasn’t sure she had seen before.
“May I introduce Duke Elliot Stabler.” Prince Donald said as he turned to the man. “Elliot, this is my ward, Viscountess Olivia Benson.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Elliot said as he kissed her gloved hand.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Olivia replied, not untruthfully. She could guess what Donald was up to but she knew that he could have introduced her to someone worse.
“I’ll let you two get to know one another.” Prince Donald said with a smile before he left them to greet some of the other guests. He was a romantic at heart and he felt confident that the two would fall in love but even if they didn’t, the fact that Elliot was able to start a conversation with Olivia confirmed that a friendship was already blossoming between them. Both Elliot and Olivia deserved to be happy, even if they felt that they didn’t, it was something that they had in common.
After all, matches had been made on far less.