Prince Edward McVourse, after probably twenty minutes of conversing—more of a monologue within himself, with Victoria hand fidgeting though not observable, in pretense of listening—finally stood.
"Goodbye, Lady Victoria," he called out respectfully, bowing.
Victoria knew she had no say about what Prince Edward needed and dictated he wanted in a lady, a wife for himself. She had no say whatsoever—a woman had no say! Whether it was Prince Edward or another admirer of hers, she needed to comply with the wants of the man. Perhaps that's why she felt barely happy in this: She always looked at the longing clock on top of the parlour wall, waiting for the day to slip away, and the next day to come.
"What do you think of him?" the Countess, Victoria's mother, questioned as she approached Victoria from farther away where she had been sitting, pretending to do embroidery when, in truth, she was observing her daughter's reaction and the Prince's appreciation of her daughter. The Countess was indeed the most glad of all in the Lancaster family—she found her daughter lucky, and the Lancaster family, luckier. She even imagined her daughter with a gown, walking down the aisle being married by a Prince –Prince Edward, she thought.
"What do you think of him, dear?" the Countess asked again, now in a whisper, already next to Lady Victoria, as their eyes followed Prince Edward's black waistcoat disappearing after the door opened for him to leave. "He is a prince, dear," the Countess added, now her eyes fully on her daughter's after realizing she seemed less intrigued by the matter. Her daughter's eyes did not shine as she had expected.
"You can't sabotage this—for the family's prestige, and for your own children, dear. He owns a lot, my dear. You shall see he is the best of all admirers out there." She tried to convince her daughter, her mind wandering to thoughts of how much wealth Victoria would have if the Prince were to marry her. Victoria would surely live a much greater lifestyle than what the Earl had ever provided. And better yet, her children would be little kings' grandsons and children. Perhaps someday, one might even become king or something of that sort.
As she thought, the Viscount's son, Henry Fitzwilliam, entered, holding a single red rose, his black-heeled shoes tapping the ground and disturbing the peace of the silence in the Lancaster living room.
"He can't come close to comparison, even to a Viscount's son, dear. I hope you remember that!" the Countess whispered, as she eyed the nearer arriving Lordship, and walked quickly back to the same rocking chair where she had been sitting, pretending to embroider but slightly observing her daughter's actions, after the Viscount's son, neared them.
"Lady Victoria," Lord Henry Fitzwilliam acknowledged Victoria after first respectfully greeting the Countess of Lancaster and offering her another invitation card for the Viscount's ball, which was already set for the following week, five days away.
"Lord Henry," Lady Victoria replied, respectfully making her curtsy as she sat. Henry longingly looked at the empty space next to Victoria, where her brother Andrew usually sat.
"Alone today, my lady?" he inquired, inwardly glad that he didn't have to deal with the Lancaster's firstborn son. Every eligible bachelor in town, both new and old, knew that Andrew was the hardest nut to crack. He needed to be impressed, at least. Now, Henry was relieved that he only needed to impress the lady.
"For you," he offered the red rose he carried, having unconsciously forgotten that he had brought something with him. He then sat down after Lady Victoria accepted the flower and began talking about himself and what he liked and disliked. Why did they always have to talk about themselves? Lady Victoria often wondered, rendering her into an imagination world. Probably they should be engaging her into conversations. She wouldn't be bored!
In thoughts, Victoria acknowledged she needed to make a decision about who and what she wanted. Prince Edward had his wants, and from the little Lord Henry was speaking of now, he indeed was convinced of what he wanted, but was not quite sure if he preferred his lady intelligent or hardworking. He just knew he wanted a beautiful girl with blue eyes like Lady Victoria's. And the confusion in Lady Victoria about what she wanted in a man deepened. She did not need a man who didn't know what he wanted, nor did she want a man who had a picture of a woman whose values distinctly clashed with hers. Or maybe this was the first insight into the type of husband she desired.
Thus, due to the little miscommunication that Prince Edward imposed on Lady Victoria, she decided to listen to other admirers. Previously, she lied of a headache or an ache or a need of rest. Perhaps she had been looking too narrowly at what she wanted. She needed to broaden her set of wants in a lover. But one thing was certain: she cared little for a man's royal rank. Well, try telling that to the Countess!
With her focus on listening and observing who she liked more, despite sometimes being engraved into her thoughts when an admirer is in talk, it was the Viscount's firstborn son who informed her of gossip—that the King's five queens, though four were divorced (probably mistresses now), were likely to attend the Viscount's ball. It would be a scandal, she thought. However, she barely knew the King or his queens! But that would surely shift society's gossip from the woman who had many suitors to the one who still looked out the window, waiting for someone—anyone, even a dwarf, to call out to her!
Next, it was from Lord Beming, the elderly man who still thought himself young, that she learned tortoises live as long as four hundred years. He depicted himself as a tortoise, which explained why his fifty and seven years were still considered his youthful life. He thought his youth had not yet ended. "Men accept no aging," she deduced.
Afterward, it was the Baron of Winchester, who had not yet had a chance to introduce himself to Lady Victoria after his ball. Indeed, he was lucky; he did not encounter the sharp tongue of Andrew—heaven knows where he was.
However, as the Baron of Winchester courteously introduced himself to Lady Victoria, the door to the Lancaster living room opened, and a pacing Andrew entered, carrying a scroll and a small piece of paper. He had been sent by the Earl to attend an important meeting at the palace.
"Apologies, sister," he called out in a shout, directing himself straight to the parlor. He placed the scroll on the small table that separated Lady Victoria and the Winchester Lord. "Father's business took me afar, but here I am. Seems I missed a lot!" he added, now eyeing Lord Winchester, and his eyes quietly distanced to the rocking chair his mother sat in. He sure knew his mother—despite pretending to be embroidering, she barely was doing that! And back to the Winchester Lord, his eyes bored.
"Lord Winchester! I see you acquaint yourself quite early!" Andrew added, checking his pocket watch and smiling to himself, as the Winchester Lord had outsmarted him for the day. In previous days, Andrew had made sure, by commanding the guards, that the Baron was not allowed near Victoria. "You carry nothing for the lady?" Andrew questioned, now sitting and biting one of the biscuits meant for the visitors. "I believe a man should be serious about courtship," Andrew implied, as the Winchester Baron slightly lowered his head in shame. It was, in truth, a shame to acquaint oneself with a lady without a present. "Are you done yet?" Lord Andrew questioned, his eyes gazing between the two, noticing that they had been quiet since his arrival. "I believe so; it's alright, you can leave," Andrew directed, now standing again. "Let's meet at the Viscount's ball. I believe you shall acquaint yourself better with your nicety pair of legs on the dance floor." Andrew added, as Lord Winchester, with his hand already in a fist and his jaw clenched, stood and bowed courteously, despite his insides boiling with anger. He uttered no word and left.
"Brother, he just came in!" Victoria quietly stated, trying to protect the Winchester Lord, as Andrew sat, in a smirk of win written all over his face.
"His father died of a sin, sister. He is the oddest man you could ever think of marrying. We are Lancasters! We certainly have no intention of dirtying our name by allowing a man like him even to be seen with you!" Andrew, his eyes shifting between the two of Lady Victoria, explained the reasons why he acted as such. He then remembered he needed to report back to his father, the Earl. "I have some reports for Father! I'll be back for the next. You deserve the best, sister." He stated, giving Lady Victoria a slight kiss on the forehead, and left. For him, Lady Victoria was his little sister, and it would pain him greatly when she left! But more, if she were married to a low-life man!
Concurrently, Knight McVourse had ridden with Lord Hordy's four-and-two carriage toward Lady Evelyne's place. He had heard rumors that the King had summoned his queens, including his mother, for a talk. He needed to know what the talk was about, as his mother was spending the night at Lady Evelyn's, despite the King having bed chambers for all his wives. Within his thoughts, he knew a lot of questions would be asked of him—first, if he had found a lady or, better, someone who had accepted his hand. Second was where he had been, as Lord Hordy had summarized a gossip that his mother looked out for him first before heading to meet Edward. He knew trouble would knock and knew he had no answers to the questions they would ask.
The sole answer he had was an anonymous writing to Lady Victoria. Was it enough? And the acquaintance—did he really stand a chance?