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sabinetzinTitle: Proclivities, Part One
Summary: Through a series of unfortunate events, Elizabeth Weir finds herself as the latest Lady Caldwell. How ever will she manage?
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 2783
Rating/Contents: G (this chapter), NC-17 (story); farce, airships, goggles that do nothing
Pairing: Weir/Caldwell, mentions of other pairings
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: I would like to point out that this takes place in a fantasy time (Steampunk, AD) in a fantasy country (the Kingdom of Steampunk), so don't go looking for historical accuracy. Parts of it are meticulously researched, and parts of it are made up out of whole cloth.
PART ONE
The sun was already high by the time Elizabeth's ship rose above the city of M__, beating its batlike wings as it glided in and out of the moorings of the massive zeppelins which dominated the sky. The ground passed swiftly underneath it, the city giving way to the countryside as they drew ever closer to Blackshire.
As smooth as the flight was, the months preceding it had been rocky at best for Pegasus Manufacturing. Built from the ground up by the late Robert Weir, it had, until recently, been capably managed by his daughter, Elizabeth. Elizabeth had pushed the company to new heights, focusing her research on faster, lighter, more powerful airships than had ever been seen before. They called her mad, and they were right- brilliant for pushing onwards, but mad for refusing to compromise her vision, pushing her investors away one by one until the company was practically insolvent.
Only a month prior, Elizabeth had gathered her most trusted staff- John Sheppard, Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex, Rodney McKay, and Radek Zelenka- to deliver the unwanted news.
Elizabeth took a deep breath, arranging her notes in front of her. "As you know, most of our present funding comes to us through the investments of Jack and Samantha O'Neill and their close friend Doctor Jackson."
Rodney snorted. "Their very, very close friend Doctor Jackson." Beside him, John snickered into his hand.
"I do not believe that casting aspersions is an exercise we need to begin at this table," Teyla warned them.
"I'm not casting aspersions," Rodney protested. "I'm just saying that there's a word in French for what they're doing."
"If we're finished discussing the O'Neills' personal life?" Elizabeth said, and Rodney waved a hand at her. "While their contributions have been very generous indeed, our present rate of growth is not sustainable if we are to rely solely on their capital."
"She means we're broke," Ronon said gruffly.
"Thank you, Ronon," Elizabeth replied. "Mister Dex is essentially correct. If we don't find new investors by year's end, we will have to cease production."
"I do not wish to cause any upset," Teyla said, leaning forward, "but there is still the offer from Daedalus Dry Goods to consider."
John made an unsatisfied noise. "I thought we already talked about that. We don't make cargo runs."
"We wouldn't," Teyla reminded him. "The offer would merely require us to devote a percentage of our time to development of large-scale vessels for Daedalus. What we do with the rest of it is our choice."
Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. "Look, we can sell out and be brilliant, or we can stick to our principles and be poor. It's up to you, Elizabeth."
"As much as it pains me to say, Rodney is right," Zelenka said, resting his chin on one hand. "With Daedalus, we can do better."
John held up his hands. "All I'm trying to say is that we can do better than Daedalus."
Elizabeth pursed her lips. "I'm not so sure that's true," she admitted. She sighed. "Very well. I'll consider our options and have a decision by the beginning of the week," she told them, but there had never been any doubt in her mind as to what course of action she would need to take.
And now she was here, driven at last to suffer the merger of her father's company for the sake of preserving it. She felt the weight of his watch in her pocket, and just for a moment she wished desperately that he were there to save her.
No time for that now, she thought to herself, shaking her head and focusing on the meeting to come. She let Peter help her out of her duster; she lifted her goggles delicately off of her head, replacing them with her hat, adjusting it just so on top of her curls.
Her suit was a deep carmine, cut very closely to emphasize her slim waist and willowy silhouette, its skirt sweeping the floor as she strode out towards the bay doors. She barely paused as the airship alit upon the lawn of Cold Spring Manor; she nodded at Ronon as he pulled the heavy chain to lower the ramp into the grass.
The lord of the manor himself waited to greet her. He was dressed in a charcoal frock coat, marked by an unassuming olive cravat; his carriage more than made up for his drab attire, his regal bearing marking him immediately.
Elizabeth swept down the ramp towards him, her aide following in her wake. "Lord Caldwell," she greeted him, offering her hand.
He bent and kissed it before speaking. "Doctor Weir. A pleasure to see you, as always."
"Allow me to introduce my right hand, Peter Grodin," she said, gesturing to him.
"How do you do," Caldwell said, shaking his hand. "The reporter from the Picayune is already inside. Shall we?"
Caldwell's office was much as Elizabeth expected. The walls were done in dark wooden paneling, interrupted here and there with huge bookshelves. A map of the world dominated one wall, set in a gilt frame embellished with arcane carvings.
A man stood peering at it, examining it carefully. He was quite a small man; a massive black camera hung around his neck, looking like it might drag him down at any moment. When he didn't turn around at the sound of their entrance, Caldwell cleared his throat.
The man whirled around. "Lord Caldwell!" he exclaimed, sounding startled. "Bertram Potts, society editor for the Picayune," he said, shaking their hands in turn. "It's awfully nice to meet you."
"Society editor?" Caldwell asked. "That seems a strange place for this announcement."
"On the contrary!" the little man said. "Our readers are very interested in this sort of news."
"Please, have a seat," Caldwell said, motioning to the set of large leather armchairs in one corner of the office and seating himself.
"Oh, thank you," Potts said, sitting down. "I don't intend to take up much of your time, but I would like just a few words from both of you concerning your big announcement."
"Of course," Elizabeth said. "We'd be delighted."
Potts took out his notebook and pencil, flipping to an empty page. "How long have you been considering this arrangement?"
"It has been quite sudden," Elizabeth said, "but it can't possibly come at a better time. Both our companies will benefit greatly from this decision."
"Of course," he said. "And you, your lordship, what are your thoughts?"
"I agree completely with Doctor Weir," he replied. "Though this decision has not taken long, it has been very carefully considered. This is the best possible option for both of us. Our strengths complement each other, and we will be able to supplement certain weaknesses through our merger."
"We expect our union to be very fruitful," Elizabeth added.
"And how soon will your union be?" Potts asked.
"I should think preparations will be completed by the end of the month," Elizabeth said, looking to Caldwell for confirmation.
"Yes, we should be combining our properties by then," he said.
"Thank you so much for your time," the reporter said, jotting down a last few notes. "If you wouldn't mind taking a photograph?"
"Of course," Caldwell said, standing up and offering Elizabeth a hand. "Shall we do it in front of the window?"
"That's perfect, thank you," he said, reaching for the camera that hung around his neck. "If you could stand just a little closer together?" he asked, peering at them through his viewfinder. "Excellent. Just hold still for a moment, please." The flash left Elizabeth blinking; she grasped Caldwell's arm momentarily for support. "You'll see the announcement in tomorrow's Picayune," Potts said, "and of course you'll receive a copy of the photograph." He shook their hands again, excitedly. "And let me say how happy I am for the both of you."
He exited, followed closely by Peter, talking animatedly to himself. "What a strange little man," Caldwell said.
"He forgot to ask what we were going to call the company," Elizabeth observed. "How odd."
He shrugged. "Better to leave the readers with something to talk about, I suppose." He walked over to the credenza, picking up one of the stoppered crystal bottles. "Brandy?"
"Only a little one," Elizabeth allowed.
He poured out a glass for each of them, offering one to Elizabeth. "To a successful partnership," he told her.
"To Atlantis Trading," she returned, and they both drank. "I imagine we'll be seeing much more of each other once the merger is secured," she remarked.
"I look forward to it," he said, and there was something on his face that she didn't quite recognize, something appealing, even though she was certain he was only being polite.
"They're ready for you, Doctor Weir," Grodin interrupted, stepping back into the study.
Elizabeth drank off the rest of her brandy. "I have to go. I'll see you when you come back to the city?"
He nodded, smiling at her. "We'll work out the final arrangements once I've returned."
"Until then," Elizabeth replied, setting her glass down on the credenza and letting Peter lead her out.
--
Elizabeth awoke the next morning to a loud banging on her door. After assuring herself it was not part of the dream she'd just woken up from, she rolled over, blinking at the little brass clock on her nightstand; it informed her that the time was absolutely ridiculously early.
Before she could do much else, the doors to her room burst open and Teyla swept in, wearing the royal blue riding dress she preferred, her hat still pinned in place.
"My apologies," Peter protested, following her in. "I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't hear of it."
"That's alright," she said groggily, waving a hand at him. "Go and arrange for some tea, won't you?"
Peter nodded, looking suspiciously at Teyla as he closed the doors behind them.
"We have a situation requiring immediate attention," she said, tossing a newspaper onto Elizabeth's bed. She went to the window and threw back the curtains, filling the room with sunlight.
"What's all this?" she asked, picking up the newspaper and staring blearily at the headline.
SURPRISE WEDDING FOR BUSINESS MAGNATES stared back at her.
She sat straight up, gaping at the paper. "If this is a joke, Teyla, it isn't funny."
Teyla ignored the slight. "Read on," she said grimly.
"'The future Lady Caldwell predicted a fruitful union'-" Elizabeth read in disbelief. "Teyla, we were talking about the merger!" She threw back the bedclothes, making to climb out of the bed. "I'm going down to that publisher's office immediately."
"The damage has already been done," Teyla pointed out. "Everyone in the city will already have this paper at their doorstep."
"I cannot allow this to stand," Elizabeth said. "Teyla, if everyone in the city knows, then it's as good as true."
"Lord Caldwell returns this afternoon," Teyla reminded her. "I suggest you wait until then before doing anything rash. The two of you can work out what course of action is most prudent."
There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Elizabeth called, and Peter entered, carrying a tea tray and another copy of the offending paper. "I am not receiving today," she told him. "If it's anyone but Doctor McKay, Mister Sheppard, Missus O'Neill, or Mister Dex, send them away."
"Of course," he answered. He drew himself up to his full height. "I wanted to be the first to say-"
"Peter," she said sharply. "If you congratulate me, you're fired."
"Good morning," Peter covered smoothly. "I wanted to be the first to say good morning to you."
"Thank you," she replied; he nodded and took his leave. Elizabeth sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I'm sorry to have been so rude. Please, sit down and have some tea."
Teyla's face softened. "There is no need to apologize," she said, patting Elizabeth's hand. "But I must be going. Will you come to the factory today?"
She shook her head. "I have to sort out this catastrophe."
"Very well," Teyla said, inclining her head. "I will see you soon, then."
When Teyla had gone, Elizabeth flung the covers over her head and determined never to come out again.
By noon, Elizabeth had a pounding headache and a stack of calling cards half an inch thick. Aside from dressing and attempting to make a house from them, she had gotten little accomplished.
Elizabeth had never thought much about marriage, to be perfectly frank. She had always had other concerns- her career, mainly. As far as she understood it, the primary goals of marriage for a woman of her class were the assurance of financial security and the production of children, things Elizabeth had never particularly seen the need for. There had been Simon, of course, but that seemed like a world away; she had been so young then.
Would it be so bad to be married to Lord Caldwell? Surely she could do much worse than a baron, especially one who had made a fortune for himself apart from his family's holdings. She had never found his presence particularly odious, and she fancied that sometimes he looked at her contemplatively; she could see how it might be thrilling to have all his attention focused on only her.
It was a sign of her despair that she was even considering this.
A tentative knock at the door interrupted her reverie. "Doctor, Lord Caldwell is here," Peter said nervously. "He is refusing to be sent away."
"I'll see him in the parlor," Elizabeth said, standing and flicking imaginary dust off of her skirt. She refused to indulge in the feminine conceit of arbitrarily making her male callers wait; she resisted the urge to temporize, going down to face him immediately.
When she reached the parlor, he was leaning heavily on the mantle of the fireplace, looking into the flames. He straightened at the sound of her arrival, nodding to her. "Elizabeth," he said, a slightly mischievous smile on his face. "I assume it is proper to call you that, since you're my fiancé and all."
"Clever," she said, a little sarcastically.
"We're in quite a mess, aren't we?" he said.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "That's putting it lightly."
"I've contacted my lawyers," Caldwell said, turning away from her to pace the floor. "We're prepared to bring suit against the paper if a proper retraction isn't given. The whole matter should be taken care of in a few months, in the worst case."
"Would you marry me?" she asked, her eyes cast downwards.
He whirled around to face her. "Are you proposing?"
"Our reputations are hinging on this point," she told him, forcing herself to look into his eyes. "Our business arrangement was always going to be unusual, and I trust that rumors had already started. Now, with this announcement, if we try to proceed as planned- after the lawsuit and retraction- we'll be quite the scandal."
He snorted. "So you think the solution to our problems is holy matrimony?"
She shrugged. "I can't speak for you, obviously, but I have no intention of marrying anyone else. Is it so different than what we had planned?"
"Yes," he told her. "But I see your point." He looked her up and down. "You'd better start looking for a dressmaker. A month is just enough time to get the chapel at my estate back in working order."
"A wedding outside the city would be best," she agreed. "My secretary will begin arrangements immediately."
"Excellent," he said. "Well, I don't want to take up any more of your time, Elizabeth."
"I'm sure you have business to attend to," she said diplomatically. "I'll be in touch-" she faltered, suddenly realizing she had no idea what his first name was.
"Steven," he supplied, smirking.
"Steven," she parroted.
And just like that, Elizabeth was affianced.
By the end of the month, she found herself in the chapel at Cold Spring, attended by Teyla and Samantha. The bishop spoke a few words, and suddenly there she was, standing next to her husband.
Elizabeth had been running a company almost single-handedly since she was twenty-four and had never been through a more business-like procedure.
--
On to part two
Summary: Through a series of unfortunate events, Elizabeth Weir finds herself as the latest Lady Caldwell. How ever will she manage?
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 2783
Rating/Contents: G (this chapter), NC-17 (story); farce, airships, goggles that do nothing
Pairing: Weir/Caldwell, mentions of other pairings
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: I would like to point out that this takes place in a fantasy time (Steampunk, AD) in a fantasy country (the Kingdom of Steampunk), so don't go looking for historical accuracy. Parts of it are meticulously researched, and parts of it are made up out of whole cloth.
PART ONE
The sun was already high by the time Elizabeth's ship rose above the city of M__, beating its batlike wings as it glided in and out of the moorings of the massive zeppelins which dominated the sky. The ground passed swiftly underneath it, the city giving way to the countryside as they drew ever closer to Blackshire.
As smooth as the flight was, the months preceding it had been rocky at best for Pegasus Manufacturing. Built from the ground up by the late Robert Weir, it had, until recently, been capably managed by his daughter, Elizabeth. Elizabeth had pushed the company to new heights, focusing her research on faster, lighter, more powerful airships than had ever been seen before. They called her mad, and they were right- brilliant for pushing onwards, but mad for refusing to compromise her vision, pushing her investors away one by one until the company was practically insolvent.
Only a month prior, Elizabeth had gathered her most trusted staff- John Sheppard, Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex, Rodney McKay, and Radek Zelenka- to deliver the unwanted news.
Elizabeth took a deep breath, arranging her notes in front of her. "As you know, most of our present funding comes to us through the investments of Jack and Samantha O'Neill and their close friend Doctor Jackson."
Rodney snorted. "Their very, very close friend Doctor Jackson." Beside him, John snickered into his hand.
"I do not believe that casting aspersions is an exercise we need to begin at this table," Teyla warned them.
"I'm not casting aspersions," Rodney protested. "I'm just saying that there's a word in French for what they're doing."
"If we're finished discussing the O'Neills' personal life?" Elizabeth said, and Rodney waved a hand at her. "While their contributions have been very generous indeed, our present rate of growth is not sustainable if we are to rely solely on their capital."
"She means we're broke," Ronon said gruffly.
"Thank you, Ronon," Elizabeth replied. "Mister Dex is essentially correct. If we don't find new investors by year's end, we will have to cease production."
"I do not wish to cause any upset," Teyla said, leaning forward, "but there is still the offer from Daedalus Dry Goods to consider."
John made an unsatisfied noise. "I thought we already talked about that. We don't make cargo runs."
"We wouldn't," Teyla reminded him. "The offer would merely require us to devote a percentage of our time to development of large-scale vessels for Daedalus. What we do with the rest of it is our choice."
Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. "Look, we can sell out and be brilliant, or we can stick to our principles and be poor. It's up to you, Elizabeth."
"As much as it pains me to say, Rodney is right," Zelenka said, resting his chin on one hand. "With Daedalus, we can do better."
John held up his hands. "All I'm trying to say is that we can do better than Daedalus."
Elizabeth pursed her lips. "I'm not so sure that's true," she admitted. She sighed. "Very well. I'll consider our options and have a decision by the beginning of the week," she told them, but there had never been any doubt in her mind as to what course of action she would need to take.
And now she was here, driven at last to suffer the merger of her father's company for the sake of preserving it. She felt the weight of his watch in her pocket, and just for a moment she wished desperately that he were there to save her.
No time for that now, she thought to herself, shaking her head and focusing on the meeting to come. She let Peter help her out of her duster; she lifted her goggles delicately off of her head, replacing them with her hat, adjusting it just so on top of her curls.
Her suit was a deep carmine, cut very closely to emphasize her slim waist and willowy silhouette, its skirt sweeping the floor as she strode out towards the bay doors. She barely paused as the airship alit upon the lawn of Cold Spring Manor; she nodded at Ronon as he pulled the heavy chain to lower the ramp into the grass.
The lord of the manor himself waited to greet her. He was dressed in a charcoal frock coat, marked by an unassuming olive cravat; his carriage more than made up for his drab attire, his regal bearing marking him immediately.
Elizabeth swept down the ramp towards him, her aide following in her wake. "Lord Caldwell," she greeted him, offering her hand.
He bent and kissed it before speaking. "Doctor Weir. A pleasure to see you, as always."
"Allow me to introduce my right hand, Peter Grodin," she said, gesturing to him.
"How do you do," Caldwell said, shaking his hand. "The reporter from the Picayune is already inside. Shall we?"
Caldwell's office was much as Elizabeth expected. The walls were done in dark wooden paneling, interrupted here and there with huge bookshelves. A map of the world dominated one wall, set in a gilt frame embellished with arcane carvings.
A man stood peering at it, examining it carefully. He was quite a small man; a massive black camera hung around his neck, looking like it might drag him down at any moment. When he didn't turn around at the sound of their entrance, Caldwell cleared his throat.
The man whirled around. "Lord Caldwell!" he exclaimed, sounding startled. "Bertram Potts, society editor for the Picayune," he said, shaking their hands in turn. "It's awfully nice to meet you."
"Society editor?" Caldwell asked. "That seems a strange place for this announcement."
"On the contrary!" the little man said. "Our readers are very interested in this sort of news."
"Please, have a seat," Caldwell said, motioning to the set of large leather armchairs in one corner of the office and seating himself.
"Oh, thank you," Potts said, sitting down. "I don't intend to take up much of your time, but I would like just a few words from both of you concerning your big announcement."
"Of course," Elizabeth said. "We'd be delighted."
Potts took out his notebook and pencil, flipping to an empty page. "How long have you been considering this arrangement?"
"It has been quite sudden," Elizabeth said, "but it can't possibly come at a better time. Both our companies will benefit greatly from this decision."
"Of course," he said. "And you, your lordship, what are your thoughts?"
"I agree completely with Doctor Weir," he replied. "Though this decision has not taken long, it has been very carefully considered. This is the best possible option for both of us. Our strengths complement each other, and we will be able to supplement certain weaknesses through our merger."
"We expect our union to be very fruitful," Elizabeth added.
"And how soon will your union be?" Potts asked.
"I should think preparations will be completed by the end of the month," Elizabeth said, looking to Caldwell for confirmation.
"Yes, we should be combining our properties by then," he said.
"Thank you so much for your time," the reporter said, jotting down a last few notes. "If you wouldn't mind taking a photograph?"
"Of course," Caldwell said, standing up and offering Elizabeth a hand. "Shall we do it in front of the window?"
"That's perfect, thank you," he said, reaching for the camera that hung around his neck. "If you could stand just a little closer together?" he asked, peering at them through his viewfinder. "Excellent. Just hold still for a moment, please." The flash left Elizabeth blinking; she grasped Caldwell's arm momentarily for support. "You'll see the announcement in tomorrow's Picayune," Potts said, "and of course you'll receive a copy of the photograph." He shook their hands again, excitedly. "And let me say how happy I am for the both of you."
He exited, followed closely by Peter, talking animatedly to himself. "What a strange little man," Caldwell said.
"He forgot to ask what we were going to call the company," Elizabeth observed. "How odd."
He shrugged. "Better to leave the readers with something to talk about, I suppose." He walked over to the credenza, picking up one of the stoppered crystal bottles. "Brandy?"
"Only a little one," Elizabeth allowed.
He poured out a glass for each of them, offering one to Elizabeth. "To a successful partnership," he told her.
"To Atlantis Trading," she returned, and they both drank. "I imagine we'll be seeing much more of each other once the merger is secured," she remarked.
"I look forward to it," he said, and there was something on his face that she didn't quite recognize, something appealing, even though she was certain he was only being polite.
"They're ready for you, Doctor Weir," Grodin interrupted, stepping back into the study.
Elizabeth drank off the rest of her brandy. "I have to go. I'll see you when you come back to the city?"
He nodded, smiling at her. "We'll work out the final arrangements once I've returned."
"Until then," Elizabeth replied, setting her glass down on the credenza and letting Peter lead her out.
--
Elizabeth awoke the next morning to a loud banging on her door. After assuring herself it was not part of the dream she'd just woken up from, she rolled over, blinking at the little brass clock on her nightstand; it informed her that the time was absolutely ridiculously early.
Before she could do much else, the doors to her room burst open and Teyla swept in, wearing the royal blue riding dress she preferred, her hat still pinned in place.
"My apologies," Peter protested, following her in. "I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't hear of it."
"That's alright," she said groggily, waving a hand at him. "Go and arrange for some tea, won't you?"
Peter nodded, looking suspiciously at Teyla as he closed the doors behind them.
"We have a situation requiring immediate attention," she said, tossing a newspaper onto Elizabeth's bed. She went to the window and threw back the curtains, filling the room with sunlight.
"What's all this?" she asked, picking up the newspaper and staring blearily at the headline.
SURPRISE WEDDING FOR BUSINESS MAGNATES stared back at her.
She sat straight up, gaping at the paper. "If this is a joke, Teyla, it isn't funny."
Teyla ignored the slight. "Read on," she said grimly.
"'The future Lady Caldwell predicted a fruitful union'-" Elizabeth read in disbelief. "Teyla, we were talking about the merger!" She threw back the bedclothes, making to climb out of the bed. "I'm going down to that publisher's office immediately."
"The damage has already been done," Teyla pointed out. "Everyone in the city will already have this paper at their doorstep."
"I cannot allow this to stand," Elizabeth said. "Teyla, if everyone in the city knows, then it's as good as true."
"Lord Caldwell returns this afternoon," Teyla reminded her. "I suggest you wait until then before doing anything rash. The two of you can work out what course of action is most prudent."
There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Elizabeth called, and Peter entered, carrying a tea tray and another copy of the offending paper. "I am not receiving today," she told him. "If it's anyone but Doctor McKay, Mister Sheppard, Missus O'Neill, or Mister Dex, send them away."
"Of course," he answered. He drew himself up to his full height. "I wanted to be the first to say-"
"Peter," she said sharply. "If you congratulate me, you're fired."
"Good morning," Peter covered smoothly. "I wanted to be the first to say good morning to you."
"Thank you," she replied; he nodded and took his leave. Elizabeth sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I'm sorry to have been so rude. Please, sit down and have some tea."
Teyla's face softened. "There is no need to apologize," she said, patting Elizabeth's hand. "But I must be going. Will you come to the factory today?"
She shook her head. "I have to sort out this catastrophe."
"Very well," Teyla said, inclining her head. "I will see you soon, then."
When Teyla had gone, Elizabeth flung the covers over her head and determined never to come out again.
By noon, Elizabeth had a pounding headache and a stack of calling cards half an inch thick. Aside from dressing and attempting to make a house from them, she had gotten little accomplished.
Elizabeth had never thought much about marriage, to be perfectly frank. She had always had other concerns- her career, mainly. As far as she understood it, the primary goals of marriage for a woman of her class were the assurance of financial security and the production of children, things Elizabeth had never particularly seen the need for. There had been Simon, of course, but that seemed like a world away; she had been so young then.
Would it be so bad to be married to Lord Caldwell? Surely she could do much worse than a baron, especially one who had made a fortune for himself apart from his family's holdings. She had never found his presence particularly odious, and she fancied that sometimes he looked at her contemplatively; she could see how it might be thrilling to have all his attention focused on only her.
It was a sign of her despair that she was even considering this.
A tentative knock at the door interrupted her reverie. "Doctor, Lord Caldwell is here," Peter said nervously. "He is refusing to be sent away."
"I'll see him in the parlor," Elizabeth said, standing and flicking imaginary dust off of her skirt. She refused to indulge in the feminine conceit of arbitrarily making her male callers wait; she resisted the urge to temporize, going down to face him immediately.
When she reached the parlor, he was leaning heavily on the mantle of the fireplace, looking into the flames. He straightened at the sound of her arrival, nodding to her. "Elizabeth," he said, a slightly mischievous smile on his face. "I assume it is proper to call you that, since you're my fiancé and all."
"Clever," she said, a little sarcastically.
"We're in quite a mess, aren't we?" he said.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "That's putting it lightly."
"I've contacted my lawyers," Caldwell said, turning away from her to pace the floor. "We're prepared to bring suit against the paper if a proper retraction isn't given. The whole matter should be taken care of in a few months, in the worst case."
"Would you marry me?" she asked, her eyes cast downwards.
He whirled around to face her. "Are you proposing?"
"Our reputations are hinging on this point," she told him, forcing herself to look into his eyes. "Our business arrangement was always going to be unusual, and I trust that rumors had already started. Now, with this announcement, if we try to proceed as planned- after the lawsuit and retraction- we'll be quite the scandal."
He snorted. "So you think the solution to our problems is holy matrimony?"
She shrugged. "I can't speak for you, obviously, but I have no intention of marrying anyone else. Is it so different than what we had planned?"
"Yes," he told her. "But I see your point." He looked her up and down. "You'd better start looking for a dressmaker. A month is just enough time to get the chapel at my estate back in working order."
"A wedding outside the city would be best," she agreed. "My secretary will begin arrangements immediately."
"Excellent," he said. "Well, I don't want to take up any more of your time, Elizabeth."
"I'm sure you have business to attend to," she said diplomatically. "I'll be in touch-" she faltered, suddenly realizing she had no idea what his first name was.
"Steven," he supplied, smirking.
"Steven," she parroted.
And just like that, Elizabeth was affianced.
By the end of the month, she found herself in the chapel at Cold Spring, attended by Teyla and Samantha. The bishop spoke a few words, and suddenly there she was, standing next to her husband.
Elizabeth had been running a company almost single-handedly since she was twenty-four and had never been through a more business-like procedure.
--
On to part two
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-03 07:38 pm (UTC)WHERE IS PART TWO?