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rainbowfic2022-07-27 02:37 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2022-07-27 02:37 pm
Vienna Orange #1, Tourmaline #3
Name: Consorting With the Enemy
Story: Divide & Rule/Heroes of the Revolution
Colors: Tourmaline #3 (friend/enemy); Vienna Orange #1 (But I know it's wrong, why do I do it?)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas + Seedbeads + Paint-by-Numbers fromshadowsong26 (because, sometimes, the benefits are worth the risk)
Word Count: 1051
Rating: G
Warnings: Some mentions of past deaths; period typical sexism.
Notes: 1910; Daisy Long, Jack Iveson. (I’m trying to do random first meetings for this colour, but we’ll see how it goes. This one features Edward’s maternal Aunt Daisy (who would later bring him up) and his paternal grandfather, Jack Iveson (the one who made a fortune building about a quarter of London in the 19th C.) Jack and Edward’s father are sort of estranged, but Jack’s not actually awful or anything; it was just one of those things.)
Summary: Daisy is a traitor, and that’s all there is to it.
Daisy was a traitor, and there it was. No matter how much she told herself this was a perfectly reasonable arrangement, the truth was temptation had come her way and she’d straight away said, jolly good, why not? and dived headfirst into betrayal.
She was whole-heartedly in favour of John Iveson who had the good sense to see what a trooper her sister Elizabeth was and come along and marry her. Even if he’d been difficult to like, Daisy would have worked at it for that alone, but he was – to give him the highest accolade in her vocabulary – a brick and a decent chap, almost good enough for Elizabeth.
The thought made her feel even more like a worm. John loathed his father, which ought to mean that Daisy should back him up: her friend’s enemy was her enemy, and all that. The trouble was, she’d been seated by Mr Iveson Snr at the wedding, and been talking about her studies and how unfair it was that she had sat the examination, but still wasn’t allowed to count herself a BA. One of the Scottish Ivesons she didn’t know had turned his head, and looked down at her. “Well, you’ve got the sort of education now that ought to get you a good husband, and that’s surely all that matters.”
Daisy had choked down a mouthful of soup, and remembered in time that she would die rather than spoil Elizabeth’s wedding day if she had a stand up fight with one of the groom’s relatives. Mr Iveson, sitting beside her, had straightened up and said, “Don’t talk nonsense, McAllister! It’s about justice. If the young lady has proved her cleverness, same as any other student, she deserves the proper credit. Hardly reflects well on the male students, either, if they’re so nervous of the competition.”
The Scottish Iveson – whom Daisy thought was probably Mr Iveson Snr’s son-in-law (so maybe not properly speaking an Iveson at all) – subsided, no doubt mindful of being left out of the will.
“It’s so rotten to be female sometimes,” said Daisy, which was when she’d entirely forgotten about John loathing his father. “I can’t always blame Mrs Pankhurst for wanting to smash things.” She glanced hastily around the table and, in case anyone suspected her of being about to break one of the windows or burn a pillar box, she added, “Not that I would, obviously. I’m a member of the NUWSS instead. I’d have to be really. I think Mrs Fawcett is marvellous.”
Jack folded his serviette and grinned at her. “Do you, eh? Newnham College, is it, then?”
“Goodness,” Daisy said, and put down her spoon so carelessly she never found it again afterwards. “You are well informed.”
“I take an interest,” he said. “My second wife was something of a scholar, but she didn’t get the chances you’ve had. Hmm, you know, if you were interested, somebody when you’re in town, come to stay with me for a few days, and I might be able to take you over to Aldeburgh, meet Mrs Anderson, if you’d be interested.”
Daisy blinked. “Could you really?”
“Wouldn’t make the offer otherwise,” he said, and then glared at the unfortunate McAllister again. “Don’t sit there coughing like that! Sybbie, pass your husband some water, or take him away somewhere.”
“Oh, yes, thank you. Jolly good,” said Daisy, jumping on the offer without even thinking about the ramifications. “Why not? That’s awfully kind of you.”
So, one thing led to another, and now here she was sneaking away on a train to London to visit her brother-in-law’s father and not feeling half as much of a wretch about it as she ought.
“Mr Iveson!” Hopping off the train, she waved wildly at him.
He was elderly, his hair mostly white, with the odd grey streak in it, but he stood very upright. When he saw her, he strode across and clasped her hand tightly. His penetrating gaze fixed on her. “So, you came after all.”
“I’d have let you know if I wasn’t,” she assured him, taking his arm. “I’m very grateful.”
“Thought John might have warned you away.”
Daisy bit her lip. “I didn’t actually tell him or Elizabeth. It isn’t their business, is it? Father was fine about it. Said you asked some jolly sensible questions at one of his lectures once.” She walked alongside him, keeping pace. “Honestly, you don’t seem that awful to me.”
“Thank you, Miss Long. I’d like to think so, too. Mishandled John somewhat,” he said, and for one moment, looked far more fragile than he had done before. It passed rapidly, however, and he said, “Didn’t he tell you about his mother?” When she shook her head, he sighed. “He should. He’s got all her books. Made sure of that. Botany, was her thing. Beyond my ken, but the people who do know rate her highly.”
“Did she have to publish under a pseudonym, too?”
Jack shrugged. “Just used E R Stephenson, which did well enough.”
“But didn’t you disapprove?”
“Disapprove?” said Jack. “I don’t like seeing talent wasted, and I was in a position to make sure she didn’t have to. Never mind idiots like McAllister. You keep on with what you’re doing. It’s too late for Eleanor, but things have changed.”
“You sound like a suffragist yourself.”
He laughed. “Too busy for that sort of thing, Miss Long – but I can see what’s fair and what’s not. I’ve dropped them some funds from time to time. My first wife, bless her soul, helped run my business alongside me and raised a family, and had plenty of sense in her head. And then, as I’ve said, there was Eleanor. And I don’t care for humbug and hypocrisy.”
“Fair enough,” said Daisy. “What now?”
He smiled. “How about Gunter’s before anything else?”
“Oh, gosh, yes, thank you,” said Daisy, reverting to the school girl immediately on promise of a cream tea.
He winked. “Why not? What I’m saying is, I’d be very happy to see you any time you were in town, but not if you’re keeping it secret from John. Best not to come at all.”
“I’m not sure that’s fair, either,” said Daisy.
“I said. I don’t like humbug.”
“Well,” said Daisy. “I promise I’ll tell him, but I think I’ll come and see you again sometime, no matter what he says.”
She was an awful traitor, and there it was.
NB: Millicent Fawcett
Newnham College
Elizabeth Garrett Anderson
Story: Divide & Rule/Heroes of the Revolution
Colors: Tourmaline #3 (friend/enemy); Vienna Orange #1 (But I know it's wrong, why do I do it?)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas + Seedbeads + Paint-by-Numbers from
shadowsong26 (because, sometimes, the benefits are worth the risk)Word Count: 1051
Rating: G
Warnings: Some mentions of past deaths; period typical sexism.
Notes: 1910; Daisy Long, Jack Iveson. (I’m trying to do random first meetings for this colour, but we’ll see how it goes. This one features Edward’s maternal Aunt Daisy (who would later bring him up) and his paternal grandfather, Jack Iveson (the one who made a fortune building about a quarter of London in the 19th C.) Jack and Edward’s father are sort of estranged, but Jack’s not actually awful or anything; it was just one of those things.)
Summary: Daisy is a traitor, and that’s all there is to it.
Daisy was a traitor, and there it was. No matter how much she told herself this was a perfectly reasonable arrangement, the truth was temptation had come her way and she’d straight away said, jolly good, why not? and dived headfirst into betrayal.
She was whole-heartedly in favour of John Iveson who had the good sense to see what a trooper her sister Elizabeth was and come along and marry her. Even if he’d been difficult to like, Daisy would have worked at it for that alone, but he was – to give him the highest accolade in her vocabulary – a brick and a decent chap, almost good enough for Elizabeth.
The thought made her feel even more like a worm. John loathed his father, which ought to mean that Daisy should back him up: her friend’s enemy was her enemy, and all that. The trouble was, she’d been seated by Mr Iveson Snr at the wedding, and been talking about her studies and how unfair it was that she had sat the examination, but still wasn’t allowed to count herself a BA. One of the Scottish Ivesons she didn’t know had turned his head, and looked down at her. “Well, you’ve got the sort of education now that ought to get you a good husband, and that’s surely all that matters.”
Daisy had choked down a mouthful of soup, and remembered in time that she would die rather than spoil Elizabeth’s wedding day if she had a stand up fight with one of the groom’s relatives. Mr Iveson, sitting beside her, had straightened up and said, “Don’t talk nonsense, McAllister! It’s about justice. If the young lady has proved her cleverness, same as any other student, she deserves the proper credit. Hardly reflects well on the male students, either, if they’re so nervous of the competition.”
The Scottish Iveson – whom Daisy thought was probably Mr Iveson Snr’s son-in-law (so maybe not properly speaking an Iveson at all) – subsided, no doubt mindful of being left out of the will.
“It’s so rotten to be female sometimes,” said Daisy, which was when she’d entirely forgotten about John loathing his father. “I can’t always blame Mrs Pankhurst for wanting to smash things.” She glanced hastily around the table and, in case anyone suspected her of being about to break one of the windows or burn a pillar box, she added, “Not that I would, obviously. I’m a member of the NUWSS instead. I’d have to be really. I think Mrs Fawcett is marvellous.”
Jack folded his serviette and grinned at her. “Do you, eh? Newnham College, is it, then?”
“Goodness,” Daisy said, and put down her spoon so carelessly she never found it again afterwards. “You are well informed.”
“I take an interest,” he said. “My second wife was something of a scholar, but she didn’t get the chances you’ve had. Hmm, you know, if you were interested, somebody when you’re in town, come to stay with me for a few days, and I might be able to take you over to Aldeburgh, meet Mrs Anderson, if you’d be interested.”
Daisy blinked. “Could you really?”
“Wouldn’t make the offer otherwise,” he said, and then glared at the unfortunate McAllister again. “Don’t sit there coughing like that! Sybbie, pass your husband some water, or take him away somewhere.”
“Oh, yes, thank you. Jolly good,” said Daisy, jumping on the offer without even thinking about the ramifications. “Why not? That’s awfully kind of you.”
So, one thing led to another, and now here she was sneaking away on a train to London to visit her brother-in-law’s father and not feeling half as much of a wretch about it as she ought.
“Mr Iveson!” Hopping off the train, she waved wildly at him.
He was elderly, his hair mostly white, with the odd grey streak in it, but he stood very upright. When he saw her, he strode across and clasped her hand tightly. His penetrating gaze fixed on her. “So, you came after all.”
“I’d have let you know if I wasn’t,” she assured him, taking his arm. “I’m very grateful.”
“Thought John might have warned you away.”
Daisy bit her lip. “I didn’t actually tell him or Elizabeth. It isn’t their business, is it? Father was fine about it. Said you asked some jolly sensible questions at one of his lectures once.” She walked alongside him, keeping pace. “Honestly, you don’t seem that awful to me.”
“Thank you, Miss Long. I’d like to think so, too. Mishandled John somewhat,” he said, and for one moment, looked far more fragile than he had done before. It passed rapidly, however, and he said, “Didn’t he tell you about his mother?” When she shook her head, he sighed. “He should. He’s got all her books. Made sure of that. Botany, was her thing. Beyond my ken, but the people who do know rate her highly.”
“Did she have to publish under a pseudonym, too?”
Jack shrugged. “Just used E R Stephenson, which did well enough.”
“But didn’t you disapprove?”
“Disapprove?” said Jack. “I don’t like seeing talent wasted, and I was in a position to make sure she didn’t have to. Never mind idiots like McAllister. You keep on with what you’re doing. It’s too late for Eleanor, but things have changed.”
“You sound like a suffragist yourself.”
He laughed. “Too busy for that sort of thing, Miss Long – but I can see what’s fair and what’s not. I’ve dropped them some funds from time to time. My first wife, bless her soul, helped run my business alongside me and raised a family, and had plenty of sense in her head. And then, as I’ve said, there was Eleanor. And I don’t care for humbug and hypocrisy.”
“Fair enough,” said Daisy. “What now?”
He smiled. “How about Gunter’s before anything else?”
“Oh, gosh, yes, thank you,” said Daisy, reverting to the school girl immediately on promise of a cream tea.
He winked. “Why not? What I’m saying is, I’d be very happy to see you any time you were in town, but not if you’re keeping it secret from John. Best not to come at all.”
“I’m not sure that’s fair, either,” said Daisy.
“I said. I don’t like humbug.”
“Well,” said Daisy. “I promise I’ll tell him, but I think I’ll come and see you again sometime, no matter what he says.”
She was an awful traitor, and there it was.
NB: Millicent Fawcett
Newnham College
Elizabeth Garrett Anderson
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