![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: Shy
Rating: PG.
Summary: Yvonne gives some advice to her daughter.
Warnings: emotional abuse, background classism.
Notes: "I have got to write Olivia something happy!" she said, writing something terrifically unhappy for Olivia...
"Olivia!"
Olivia flinched, curling deeper into the big leather armchair hidden in the library's corner, between the window and the fire. That was her mother, a sort of ineffective fury in her voice that she always felt when thwarted. Olivia didn't know what, precisely, had gone wrong today, but it hardly mattered; she would be the one to suffer for it, she always was.
Papa wasn't in London—he'd said he preferred to stay in the country for the season—so she couldn't depend on his protection. Perhaps her mother simply wouldn't think to look for her in here, and Olivia could pretend she hadn't heard anything...
"Olivia!"
No hope for it now; Mama was immediately outside the library door. Olivia uncurled, and hid her book between the chair and the wall. "Coming, Mama!"
Her mother threw open the library door and stood scowling in the frame. "There you are! You stupid girl, haven't you heard me calling?"
"No, Mama," Olivia said, meekly. If she was quiet and apologetic it always went faster. "I'm sorry."
"Little fool." Her mother tsked, and shook her head. "Come on, we've a party tonight, and you must look your best."
Oh, yes, she'd forgotten. On purpose, perhaps. "Will Miss Carew be there?" she asked.
"No, of course not," Mama replied, and Olivia's throat tightened. "She's the daughter of a baronet. You don't move in the same circles she does."
So of course Miss Carew was the only person in the entire ton whom Olivia did not fear. It wasn't that they were cruel, exactly—her father was a physician, entirely respectable, and her mother's family was landed gentry—it was just that she had been brought up in such seclusion, and she was so shy around such beautiful and sophisticated people as one found in London. Miss Carew was beautiful too, of course, and Olivia had found her intimidating at first, but she was so kind that Olivia had got over it very quickly. No one else in the ton had so much as a compassionate look.
But Mama was not to be gainsaid, and if she declared that Olivia must suffer through another evening of awkward silences and painful conversations, it must be. Olivia followed her mother up the stairs to her room, and sat meekly at her dressing table when ordered.
"Ugh," her mother said, lifting a clump of her hair. "All in snarls. I swear, some days I wish I could cut it all off." She took a brush to Olivia's thick curls, dragging it through so hard tears came to Olivia's eyes. She bit them back though, and let her mother go on rambling.
"Gracious, child, can't you eat a little less?" when lacing Olivia's stays.
"Your skin is so sallow," shoving Olivia into her dress.
"If you only weren't so shy," twisting her hair up and pinning it viciously. "Do try to have a little manners tonight, child. There will be several good prospects there—merchants all, of course, but you can't really hope for anything better." She stood back, and sighed at what she saw, but shook her head. "A rich merchant. Set your cap for one of them.
Olivia gave her reflection a doubtful look. She really did look very ill, but that was at least partly because the yellow of her dress made her look unwell, and partly because her hair had been pulled back so tightly her round face looked even rounder. If only her mother would let her wear white, she could disappear...
"Perhaps if I changed..." she began.
"No, I shan't let you wear white," Mama snapped. "You'll just vanish. Heaven knows you haven't many memorable qualities of your own. Your dress will just have to do it for you."
She bit her lip. "Very well, Mama. May I..." She hesitated then. "I do not know how, Mama."
"Just..." Her mother waved a hand. "Smile, flirt, do as I would do. Flatter them, gentlemen like flattery. And for goodness's sake pick a rich man, or you will have to live as I have had to live." Her lush mouth twisted to the side, just a bit. "You won't want that."
Olivia blinked. Had life with her father been so very unpleasant? They had not been rich, it was true, but they had never wanted for anything. "I think Papa a very good provider," she tried.
"You would," her mother replied, and shook her head. "Trust me, child. Marry a rich man. He can be ugly, he can be a brute, he can be old—in fact, it's best if he's old, then he'll die and you will inherit all his money. But marry a rich man, bear him an heir, perhaps two, and you'll have nothing to fear from life. He'll ask no more of you in the marriage bed, and you will have money to do whatever you please." Mama went so far as to pat Olivia's cheek, almost maternally. "You'll see. It will all be as I have said."
It did not sound at all like the kind of thing Olivia wanted, but then, she had so little to offer—dull, stupid, shy, ugly, no dowry to speak of, and very few family connections. She sighed. Perhaps a rich merchant really was her best choice.
"Yes, Mama," she said, and turned away from the mirror.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Yvonne gives some advice to her daughter.
Warnings: emotional abuse, background classism.
Notes: "I have got to write Olivia something happy!" she said, writing something terrifically unhappy for Olivia...
"Olivia!"
Olivia flinched, curling deeper into the big leather armchair hidden in the library's corner, between the window and the fire. That was her mother, a sort of ineffective fury in her voice that she always felt when thwarted. Olivia didn't know what, precisely, had gone wrong today, but it hardly mattered; she would be the one to suffer for it, she always was.
Papa wasn't in London—he'd said he preferred to stay in the country for the season—so she couldn't depend on his protection. Perhaps her mother simply wouldn't think to look for her in here, and Olivia could pretend she hadn't heard anything...
"Olivia!"
No hope for it now; Mama was immediately outside the library door. Olivia uncurled, and hid her book between the chair and the wall. "Coming, Mama!"
Her mother threw open the library door and stood scowling in the frame. "There you are! You stupid girl, haven't you heard me calling?"
"No, Mama," Olivia said, meekly. If she was quiet and apologetic it always went faster. "I'm sorry."
"Little fool." Her mother tsked, and shook her head. "Come on, we've a party tonight, and you must look your best."
Oh, yes, she'd forgotten. On purpose, perhaps. "Will Miss Carew be there?" she asked.
"No, of course not," Mama replied, and Olivia's throat tightened. "She's the daughter of a baronet. You don't move in the same circles she does."
So of course Miss Carew was the only person in the entire ton whom Olivia did not fear. It wasn't that they were cruel, exactly—her father was a physician, entirely respectable, and her mother's family was landed gentry—it was just that she had been brought up in such seclusion, and she was so shy around such beautiful and sophisticated people as one found in London. Miss Carew was beautiful too, of course, and Olivia had found her intimidating at first, but she was so kind that Olivia had got over it very quickly. No one else in the ton had so much as a compassionate look.
But Mama was not to be gainsaid, and if she declared that Olivia must suffer through another evening of awkward silences and painful conversations, it must be. Olivia followed her mother up the stairs to her room, and sat meekly at her dressing table when ordered.
"Ugh," her mother said, lifting a clump of her hair. "All in snarls. I swear, some days I wish I could cut it all off." She took a brush to Olivia's thick curls, dragging it through so hard tears came to Olivia's eyes. She bit them back though, and let her mother go on rambling.
"Gracious, child, can't you eat a little less?" when lacing Olivia's stays.
"Your skin is so sallow," shoving Olivia into her dress.
"If you only weren't so shy," twisting her hair up and pinning it viciously. "Do try to have a little manners tonight, child. There will be several good prospects there—merchants all, of course, but you can't really hope for anything better." She stood back, and sighed at what she saw, but shook her head. "A rich merchant. Set your cap for one of them.
Olivia gave her reflection a doubtful look. She really did look very ill, but that was at least partly because the yellow of her dress made her look unwell, and partly because her hair had been pulled back so tightly her round face looked even rounder. If only her mother would let her wear white, she could disappear...
"Perhaps if I changed..." she began.
"No, I shan't let you wear white," Mama snapped. "You'll just vanish. Heaven knows you haven't many memorable qualities of your own. Your dress will just have to do it for you."
She bit her lip. "Very well, Mama. May I..." She hesitated then. "I do not know how, Mama."
"Just..." Her mother waved a hand. "Smile, flirt, do as I would do. Flatter them, gentlemen like flattery. And for goodness's sake pick a rich man, or you will have to live as I have had to live." Her lush mouth twisted to the side, just a bit. "You won't want that."
Olivia blinked. Had life with her father been so very unpleasant? They had not been rich, it was true, but they had never wanted for anything. "I think Papa a very good provider," she tried.
"You would," her mother replied, and shook her head. "Trust me, child. Marry a rich man. He can be ugly, he can be a brute, he can be old—in fact, it's best if he's old, then he'll die and you will inherit all his money. But marry a rich man, bear him an heir, perhaps two, and you'll have nothing to fear from life. He'll ask no more of you in the marriage bed, and you will have money to do whatever you please." Mama went so far as to pat Olivia's cheek, almost maternally. "You'll see. It will all be as I have said."
It did not sound at all like the kind of thing Olivia wanted, but then, she had so little to offer—dull, stupid, shy, ugly, no dowry to speak of, and very few family connections. She sighed. Perhaps a rich merchant really was her best choice.
"Yes, Mama," she said, and turned away from the mirror.
