Happy New Year!

[Archibald Seymour]

It was a pleasure to warm the Carringtons by the hearth of Stourhead House, all the more so to thread their families together in common celebration as one moment passed to the next. Christmas had been splendid, though it was to be noted that it did not snow, which upset the younger ones who had hoped to take their small sleds out onto the nearby hillside. Hermione had played the piano to their charming voices as the children sang carols and played out a nativity where little Teddy, still suffering from an ear infection that had never shed, played Jesus himself in the arms of Victoria, his Mary.

New Years was no shunned occasion, either, though it was to be said that by the time night fell around Stourhead like a heavy blanket, Clementine had already succumbed to sleep on the sofa before the fireplace, curled beneath Archibald’s coat as she snoozed into a world made just for her. Teddy was already fast asleep in the nursery and still tended to by a particular nanny who had been hired not long after his mother had died.

The rest of them, or so it had seemed, clung to the heart strings of the party. Victoria was dancing with the Carringtons, playing the matriarch as she taught the girls how to dance whilst taking the leading position. Archibald had been watching over them, sipping at a short glass of champagne before plunging himself into the seat beside the slumber of Clementine — a hand, untouched by manual labour and as such softer than one could have imagined, extended sideways to stroke the light brown of his daughter’s hair in a soothing manner equipped by a more loving father. That day had been spent giving out gifts and monetary papers to the household servants, and though most called Stourhead their home, some had been given leave to visit family around the county itself, leaving the grand house to the likes of the housekeeper, house steward and a few lingering footmen.

Hermione, who had grown into a young lady before he had been given time to try and stop her, was talking to Philippa in hushed tones. By the turn of the New Year, she would have to begin the first steps toward her much anticipated debut — and though an engagement had already been arranged, she would have to continue to play the part in order to secure the good name for her sisters. A lot unfairly lay on her shoulders, but that was simply the way of things.

Rising to his feet, Archibald went to find his guest and his daughter, interrupting their private conversation with the rise of heavy brows.

“There are to be no secrets on New Years Eve, it’s bad luck,” Archibald announced, much to the disdain of his daughter who rolled her eyes toward Philippa in some lick of humour, before making her polite excuses and leaving to join the other younger girls in her last hours of freedom.

“By God… The pains of being an embarrassing father,” he laughed, finishing the last dregs of his drink before laying it aside, standing opposite Philippa without shame, for she still towered above him, which would have stunted any proud man’s ego if the truth was to be told. “So, tell me, what do you promise for the New Year?”

[Philippa Carrington]

The holiday season at Stourhead had proved a more pleasant experience than Pippa had anticipated. Archibald had been true to his word, and the business of their relationship expanding beyond friendship had never been raised again. The house continued to be lovely, particularly amidst the steely-cold winter skies, even if snow was in short supply this year. Christmas had been a warm and easy affair, her own girls happier than she'd seen them since the occasion of their father's passing. It would be a wrench to remove them to London after the celebration of the new year, but needs must, and Philippa's reputation mattered as much as their own when it came to their future prospects.

"To seek happiness, I think," she confessed now, almost surprised to her herself say it, for the thought had not been concrete until that very moment. "I think we all deserve it." Life would not be as careless as here, under the umbrella of the Duke's care, particularly not for Pippa herself and the necessity of minding the money, but as goals went, it felt achievable if only in small ways.

"And you, Archie?" He chastised her anytime she referred to him as anything more formal, and she had by now grown quite out of the habit. "What is it you hope for in this fresh year?" Success for his eldest, certainly, although a match had already been made. A better outcome for his youngest, perhaps, with his continued ailments. Despite it all, Pippa could not believe Archibald Seymour would sincerely wish for anything more shallow than that.

[Archibald Seymour]

If asked in a less intimate setting, or more likely than not in the company of the Dukes he saw as both friends and enemies, Archibald would’ve offered very little of personal contemplation, and would have answered such a turn of a question with the shrug of his shoulders and the hint of longing for pussy. But, beneath Stourhead and thus asked by a woman he claimed as a friend and even a companion of some kind, Archibald softened and tilted his head toward her, his gaze wandering across the woman’s face as he tried to think of something sincere. Her own answer seemed genuine enough, but at least the conversation had not been intertwined with the awkward affairs of love and devotion, and it was easy to hope that Philippa would be met with such happiness sooner rather than later.

Of course, Archibald rarely thought beyond the present, and as such his immediate reaction was based on the family he had seen so much off during the break from society and parliament. Shuffling a little, he looked over his shoulder as Hermione left the room before returning his gaze to Philippa instead, his own eye soft and unfocused as he shrugged and poured himself a small inkling of whiskey in a crystallised glass.

“Health and prosperity, I suppose. For Hermione’s debut to be a success. For Victoria and Clementine to remain in good spirits and Teddy’s… His infection to clear one day, though I am not blind, they say he is more than likely to recover as partly deaf,” Archibald announced, for though any other man would have hoped for an heir to carry on the family name, all Archibald had found that he wanted in terms of offspring was their happiness.

By his position alone, if the title skipped Teddy, it would go to some far off cousin he hadn’t seen in some time, leaving his daughters dangling between safety and danger. In a rare act of planning, Archibald had long since had his will re-written to include a hefty settlement for each of his children in order to secure their futures when he was gone, Stourhead would go to Hermione and Bradley Estate would go to the heir… But, Archibald was still quite concerned about Teddy’s wellbeing if he was indeed to be partly deaf. Not only would he be barred from sensible arrangements, but he could only be seen as something of a failed creature, when he was unquestionably beloved by his father at any rate. Still, it was odd to be so honest, so he swallowed his doubts and gulped at his drink, offering to pour Philippa a drink of her own.

“How are the girls? Do you think they yearn to go home yet? Clementine must drive them wild,” Archibald huffed, rolling his shoulders beneath his house coat — less formal than one would expect, Archibald liked to dress casually in his own home, his comfort and leisure being paramount to all else.

[Philippa Carrington]

"He is a good boy, Archie; a sweet boy," Pippa allowed with a smile, and could not imagine it was saying too much that she was capable of this assessment. She had, perhaps, been made to be a mother, and had taken the time to sit with the little boy and get to know him. To ignore his presence in the house was unfathomable. "I think all little children struggle with communicating how they feel. It must be terribly difficult when one cannot hear completely. Patience I think is to be his watchword. But he is very spirited, not unlike his father. I would not underestimate his ability, for he will certainly strive to prove you entirely wrong."

Archibald would want the best for his children, of course, but Pippa thought it a terrible injustice that the framework of their world could not allow for someone different to be a success. That Teddy's rightful inheritance could be so stripped away for an ailment she fully believed he was capable of overcoming.

"You do not give Clementine enough credit," she gently chastised Archie with a faint shake of her head. "My girls were quite excited to be in London after so long in the country, but I do think they enjoy it here nearly as well, if only for the company." She could not, of course, correct his presumption that they had anyplace to truly call home. Their family was yet reliant upon the generosity of Eugene's cousin, but she would need to begin searching for someplace within their means soon, and she feared it would not be in the city.

"When do you think you will return to London?" There would be such a great deal to do for the debut of a duke's daughter; Pippa could only imagine getting an early start might be beneficial.

[Archibald Seymour]

Teddy was a gentle, quiet child — perhaps one day he would grow into his character, into someone bold and courageous concerning the fact that he was the son of a Duke. But for now? He would turn two in the coming August, and all rested on the hearing of his child whether he liked it or not. Born mere moments before the death of his mother, Teddy only really knew the kind touch of his sisters and the wet nurse hired to tend to him, perhaps that was why he was already so open to want the attention of the Baroness, with his small grabbing hands and open mouth set to cry whenever she left the room. Hey, perhaps Archibald was more akin to his son than he had originally thought.

“Yes but…” Archibald began, deciding perhaps to put a pause to his train of thought as his eye was drawn back to Philippa instead, looking at her with the quiver of a smile, or something more honest than he had been expecting. Instead of relieving himself of it, however, Archibald swallowed the words instead, and equipped himself with a more confident smile — one, more often than not, seen whenever he was forced to attend social parties and ballrooms. “Clementine? Oh, she is only four years, nearly five! Children may open themselves up to you, Philippa, but I do not think they act as such for a father…” He mused, rolling the words in his mouth before he put his cup to his lips instead.

“Oh, I will be coming and going till Parliament needs me… I am in conversation with a designer to have Somerset House wrapped up nicely for the first evening of the season but I… Well, I have no bloody clue what looks good for a debut,” Archibald smiled, rolling his eyes in extravagance as he put his glass aside. The truth was he wasn’t sure what to do, for the most part he had left the decision making to Hermione and her own wit, for the world knew how much smarter she was compared to him! Well, his mind was quite preoccupied with the Carringtons too, who he hoped to keep such a keen sense of affection and friendship for, even if Philippa represented an entirely new way of looking at others, Archibald welcomed it, especially when within the safety of Stourhead.

“Will you come with me?” He asked, quite sincerely, his eyes drawn carefully over Philippa’s fine, careful features.

[Philippa Carrington]

"At Hermione's debut? I will be there, of course," Pippa replied, her expression schooled into polite enthusiasm. "I've promised her I shall help with the planning, although it feels so long ago that I planned my own coming out. I suppose things cannot have changed too much."

This was not an answer to what had been asked. Regardless of what affections Archibald might yet carry for her, he had to comprehend what it would look like. Philippa, walking into the debut ball for Archie's daughter, on his arm? They might as well place an engagement announcement in all the papers.

"We shall find some very skilled tradespeople to handle most of it. I suspect you'll need to worry over very little apart from signing checks," she advised with a knowing arch of her eyebrows. "Once the girls and I are returned to London, I shall send inquiries to some acquaintances who would know better than me the best people to use these days. I'll be glad to have something to do, and I'm honored Hermione has trusted me with something so important."

[Archibald Seymour]

Archibald huffed a little at the quip, watching with the heavy lull of his eyelids as Philippa brought her honest clarity to the situation, for she was right after all, what did he have to do but sign his name under a few contracts? After all, Hermione had most of the matter in hand. The weight of the transition from one age to another was brought upon the Duke mainly because it meant that he had grown older than what he had previously thought possible. No longer was he a man with children, but indeed an older man with a daughter old enough to be married off if she wished — her marriage was already planned, after all, an agreement that Hermione hadn’t seemed to worry about when it had first been proposed.

Absently he thought of his own father and how cruel he had been when he had realised that his time was up, and that Archibald was thus old enough to contend with the world without him. Would he turn on his own? Had he the health of mind to cut off old wounds for the benefit of them? Who could know, but Archibald had no mind to make the life of his four children harder than it naturally would be as his offspring — each one clouded by the population because of Archibald’s simmering reputation.

“Why of course, you are already part of the family, Philippa,” he announced, though it wasn’t as if such news was entirely new when each daughter of his preferred to spend the long afternoons with her, above anyone else. “Hermione is glad to have you, I am glad to have you even more. Come, let’s drink to the New Year, mmm? One drink won’t hurt,” Archibald grinned, that old devil of a spark flickering behind his eyes as he went to fill their cups, the room almost entirely empty apart from a lone footman in case they needed anything, as was proper in that large, sprawling house.

“I do not know when I will return to London, probably before the season… Perhaps I’ll travel with you, before I call Hermione to the city,” Archibald mused, turning to the side in order to take Philippa’s order — Archibald himself took to the whiskey, of course.