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Dinner had been an unmitigated disaster.
Lady Euphemia Trinket couldn’t say that she hadn’t expected as much.
It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known that the Everdeens weren’t quite of their social standing. Or that she hadn’t heard rumours of the crude uncle and his drunken brawls.
Still, she would have thought that the girl might have gone to a bit more effort when being presented to the benefactor of her future betrothed.
Was that so much to ask?
Improper as it may be, it was a relief when Mrs Everdeen made their excuse to depart early rather than linger in the drawing room for entertainment and some tea.
“But Katniss hasn’t done her song,” the younger of the two girls protested before Effie could have the butler usher them out.
“You play dear?” Effie asked, her surprise not particularly well hidden. “How lovely,” she added for politeness. It was a nice talent to have for a young woman hoping to raise her place in society and showed that Mrs Everdeen had at least done that much right with her daughters. Though Effie doubted that the girl would have much skill compared to those with better breeding.
“Katniss sings, Lady Euphemia,” her dear nephew answered for the girl, wearing the same besotted expression that he had any time the girl so much as looked in his direction.
The familiar address for a woman who was not yet his fiancée did not go beyond Effie’s notice and she quickly schooled the annoyed line of her mouth into something bland and pleasant. “You must sing for us, Miss Everdeen,” she suggested because it was expected, not because she had any interest in sitting through another warbling rendition of Robin Adair.
Miss Everdeen looked uncomfortable to be placed on the spot, but an encouraging nod from Peeta was enough to settle her resolve. Her sister, young Miss Prim Everdeen, took the seat at the piano forte seemingly to accompany her, but after a few hesitant bars she put her hands on her lap.
Silence reigned for a moment, and then Miss Everdeen picked up the tune and it was lovelier than anything that Effie had heard before. The lovestruck look on her nephew’s face suddenly seemed completely warranted.
No one dared move or speak until the last note hung in the air. It was silent again until a slow clap echoed from the doorway.
Effie’s head shot around to where her brother-in-law and Captain Abernathy had wandered in from the smoking room. Once the Captain had begun the round of applause the ladies were quick to follow suit.
“Looks like the mockingjay found her voice,” Captain Abernathy commented in that sarcastic drawl of his, earning himself a scowl from his niece. Effie would have scowled herself if it wasn’t so improper.
“Will you play for us, Uncle Haymitch?” the younger Miss Everdeen suggested, easing some of the tension between the relatives.
“Another time,” the Captain promised vaguely. “We best be going,” he added. “It’s already dark out.”
The young girl looked disappointed but didn’t protest. Of all of the Everdeens, Miss Primrose was certainly the one that had impressed Effie the most. It was almost a shame that Peeta was so keen to marry the older girl, as Miss Primrose would be quite the catch in a few years time.
“Let me walk you out,” Peeta suggested to the family even though it was very improper. She supposed he was trying to sneak another moment alone with his Miss Everdeen, but it had the unfortunate effect of leaving Effie alone with her late husband’s brother and sister-in-law.
“The Marsh’s are a good family,” the Baron reminded them as soon as her guests were out of hearing.
Her brother-in-law had a soft spot for the Everdeen widow - apparently they had been sweethearts at some point, which only made the Lady Mellark go more sour on the family.
“The Marsh’s more or less disowned them,” the Lady Mellark said with a superior look towards her husband. “They have no family name but that of the no-good uncle.”
Effie did not scoff at the comment because scoffing was unlady-like. But that didn’t mean that she held her tongue. “If family names were of any import we would not be having this conversation, my dear Constance,” she reminded the other woman. To suggest otherwise was rather rich coming from Constance Lester of all people.
The Lady Mellark’s face pinched like she was sucking on a lemon. “The dowry is only important if you do not care where the money came from,” she said pettily.
Unfortunately this was a valid point. The depraved uncle had settled a particularly large inheritance on each of the girls - an amount that had almost seemed excessive when she heard it - but the rumours regarding the source of his wealth couldn’t help but give people pause. Captain Abernathy was a former officer turned merchant and the large sums of money were no doubt ill-gotten.
You could take the pirate out of the sea but that didn’t make him a gentleman no matter how he tried to fashion himself
Peeta returned to them before Effie could comment. The Baron and his wife quickly made their excuses, leaving her and Peeta to a discussion that they would play no part in. Peeta was the third son of a minor Baron and would inherit nothing from his father - not even a secondary title. As his benefactor Lady Euphemia alone reserved the right to pass judgment on his marriage prospects.
And what dim prospects they were.
The Marsh’s were a good family - like the Baron said - but they had little to do with their daughter since her decision to marry the late Vicar Everdeen instead of whatever suitor they had deemed fit. When the Vicar died the family would have been utterly destitute if not for the pirate uncle and his ill-gotten fortune.
Despite the loss of her family name, Mrs Everdeen had at least raised the girls properly and imparted on them some knowledge of society. They were pretty girls in their own way, especially the younger one who took after her mother, but their features were rather plain without the proper adornment. The older girl’s manners were passable but nowhere near what Effie would expect for the wife of a Marquess.
It could have been worse was not the thing that she had hoped to rest her nephew’s future on.
“Your thoughts, Lady Effie?” Peeta prompted when she had been quiet for too long. He sounded more amused than he ought to given the conclusion she was forming in her head.
She was quick to school her features into something neutral, rather than the pained look she knew threatened to overtake her face. Peeta Mellark was her pride and joy, and she abhorred denying him anything.
“She seems a lovely girl,” she offered him tentatively though she hadn’t seen the appeal much herself. The singing had raised the girl greatly in her esteem. Until then Effie had rated Katniss Everdeen as pretty enough, but sullen and disinterested. Not at all the manner she would expect of the lady of the house, though that could always be trained.
“Rather quiet,” she added. “Not so much charming as …”
Effie trailed off, unable to finish the sentiment.
“Katniss is shy,” Peeta said, quick to her defence. “It takes her time to warm up to people. You’ll like her once you get to know her.”
It was rather sweet of him and she couldn’t help the tender smile she sent him. If only that had been the least of their problems.
“The family …” she said, trailing off without any further explanation.
Peeta winced. “They’re a bit rough around the edges,” he confessed with a pained look.
“A bit rough?” Effie scoffed. “That uncle of hers invited us to a restaurant where they served rat on the menu.”
“Haymitch was only joking,” Peeta protested. “I think.”
She shook her head. “He told me that a long ride would improve my mood,” she added, her lips pinching in a disdainful pout. “And I do not believe he was talking of horses.”
Anyone else would have looked aghast that she had understood the implications of Captain Abernathy’s crude joke. Peeta barely managed to hide his amused grin.
“And don't you dare make excuses for that man,” she continued before Peeta could try to explain away the Captain’s insinuations. “I have been around enough sailors to know that they are perfectly capable of minding their manners when required.”
“You’re right, Lady Effie,” Peeta said in a conciliatory tone. Then his face dropped. “The truth is, Haymitch isn’t exactly pleased about the match.”
“Really?” she asked with a scoff. “What could Captain Abernathy possibly have to be displeased about?
“Are you too well mannered for him? Is the estate not to his liking?” she asked sarcastically before Peeta could answer. “You said before that the Captain is fond of you.”
“Loves me like a son,” Peeta corrected glibly. “Which just goes to show that nobody is good enough for his niece.”
Her expression darkened at the thought of anyone - no less a mere Captain of no particular note - thinking her dear Peeta wasn’t good enough. Though at least now she had an explanation for that obscene dowry he had bestowed on each of the girls.
“You should tell him there are more efficient ways to buy a title than marriage,” she remarked blandly, her neutral tone barely disguising the bitterness that dripped on every word. “Does he really think a vicar’s daughter ought to be turning her nose up at a Marquess?”
“Lady Effie,” Peeta cautioned in that way he did when she was being particularly snobbish. He sighed heavily before he launched into a reluctant explanation. “It was a mistake - Haymitch never intended for the money to be a dowry. He only meant to provide Katniss and Miss Prim with their own income. So they could live independently. Like yourself, Lady Effie.”
The last part was said rather pointedly.
“So it is not you he opposes, but any marriage at all,” Effie concluded from his explanation.
Peeta shrugged. “But he is rather fond of me,” Peeta reminded her. “If it was anyone else he would have been far worse tonight.”
“You believe that was a show of restraint?” she questioned absurdly.
“Compared to what happened when Mr Gale Hawthorne visited I would say the Captain was on his best behaviour,” Peeta answered, though he would not give any further details despite her prying.
“Do I have your blessing, Lady Effie?” he said, pressing his own line of questioning instead.
She smiled softly and cupped his cheek in her gloved hand. The boy was dear to her and she could deny him nothing. Not even this.
“Of course, dearest,” she told him sweetly, before hardening her expression. “But I will insist on convening again with Captain Abernathy before this goes any further,” she said firmly. “It seems it is up to me to talk some sense into him.”
“I will make the arrangements,” Peeta assured her. He pressed a kiss to her cheek in gratitude and then paused for a moment. “Just … give him a chance. You might even like him.”
“Doubtful,” Effie demured. “But for you - my dear boy - I will do my best.”