Morning Call
Jun. 20th, 2019 10:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: Morning Call
Rating: PG
Summary: Gina has an unexpected visitor.
Warnings: depression.
Notes: Part 1. Hugh is referring to this letter.
Six days after Olivia came to Gina, a man turned up on her doorstep at an unfashionably early hour of the morning.
Gina's father was still asleep, so the maid came to see Gina herself, the man's card on her platter and an embarrassed look on her face. And any other time Gina might have been irritated—she was barely out of bed herself, and breakfast wouldn't even be served for another hour. But she had been waiting for this visit.
"I'm very sorry," Alice said, bobbing a little curtsey, "but he insists on seeing Miss Olivia, and she's still in bed and I don't like to wake her."
"Yes, of course," Gina said, somewhat at random, but she was occupied scrambling out of bed and into her dressing gown. "You're quite right not to wake her." Olivia had been sleeping so much lately but Gina's father said it was a good thing, and of course it made perfect sense. After what her mother had done to her Gina rather thought she needed all the rest she could get.
"Yes, miss," Alice said, and proffered the platter once Gina had herself more or less together. "Shall I send the gentleman away? Mr. Lawrence says he won't go unless he's told by the family."
Gina took the card, and noted with a distant thought that her hands were shaking. "No, no," she said, as she read the neat script on the card. Her shoulders relaxed. "No. Have him shown into the sitting room, please. And then please come back and help me dress."
Alice blinked, and hovered for a moment on the doorstep, indecisive. "Shall I wake Miss Olivia, miss?" she asked, rather doubtfully.
"Certainly not," Gina said, a little surprised at the bite in her own voice. "Let her rest. I shall see to our visitor myself."
"Yes, miss," Alice said, and went away downstairs.
--
She dressed as quickly as she could—chemise, stays, dress and drawers, thrown on in a hurry that would have appalled her mother—and did not bother to put up her hair. If her visitor would call at nine in the morning then he deserved all he got in terms of disorder. She looked herself over in the mirror, decided she was decent enough for this horrid hour, and dodged Alice's own appalled look on her way down to the sitting room.
Lawrence intercepted her before she reached the door, his leathery old face set in lines of disapproval. "Shall I ring for tea, miss?" he asked, in tones that spoke of doom.
"Yes, please, thank you, Lawrence," Gina said, as brightly as she could manage. Lawrence had been with her family since before she could remember, and if she was honest he still rather intimidated her.
His brows set deeper, but he said nothing more, and gestured at one of the footmen before preceding her into the sitting room. "Miss Caravecchio," he announced, in stentorian tones, then stepped back and glared indiscriminately. Poor Lawrence—he was not used to anything overturning his ordered little world, and here their household had been upset twice in less than a week. She would feel sorry for him, if she had any room left over in her mind, but as it was she was a bit occupied.
The gentleman on the couch stopped fidgeting abruptly and rose, anxious eyes meeting Gina's.
She took a deep breath, and stepped forward. "Mr. Marhenke?" she asked, politely. "Or should it be Doctor?"
He made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "Either, both, as you like," he said. "Please, where is my daughter?"
"Olivia is still asleep," Gina said. She seated herself in her favorite chair, and gestured to the couch he had previously occupied. "Please, sit down. I've rung for tea."
Dr. Marhenke seated himself slowly, with a considerable amount of reluctance. It spoke well for him, she thought, that he was so eager to see Olivia, but she was not quite ready to allow him good intentions. Plenty of people she would once have called friends had turned up in the last few days, wanting to goggle at the adulteress's daughter, and she had no way of knowing that Dr. Marhenke did not wish to break his daughter's heart all over again.
Olivia had no one else to defend her, so Gina would be her wall.
No sooner had the doctor seated himself again than Alice brought the tea. Gina poured, politely inquiring how he took his tea (cream, two sugars, and he answered rather brusquely), then sat back in her chair with her teacup held between her palms and regarded Olivia's father. He sat on the edge of his chair and did not touch his tea, and if Gina did not know better she would think he was practically vibrating in his seat.
"May I ask, Dr. Marhenke," she began, "what brings you here at this hour?"
He looked at her as if she were an idiot. "I've come to see my daughter," he said. "I need to see her, please."
Gina gave him a flat look right back. "Sir," she said, "we do not keep country hours in this household. As I told you before, Olivia is still sleeping. I am not inclined to wake her simply because you don't know when proper calling hours are."
"This is not a proper call," he said. Gina could hardly argue with him there. "I'm sure you know of the scandal."
"Everyone knows of the scandal," she replied. "The earl deserted his own wife not a year after their vows. If you hoped to keep this quiet I'm afraid you are far too late."
He shook his head, an irritated expression flashing across his face. "No, no, I don't care about that. I came because of what this must have done to Olivia. How is she?"
Now his face was desperate, begging, and Gina unbent a little.
"She is not well," she said. "She cries sometimes. She sleeps often. She is afraid of what you will think."
"Of what I will think?" He looked honestly shocked by that. "Did she not... I wrote a letter. Did it go astray?"
Olivia had received a letter, not two days after writing to her father, but Gina had not seen it. She'd been out when the post arrived, attempting to save as much of Olivia's reputation as she could, and by the time she returned home Olivia had seemed only calmer. It had not been until much later that Alice told her of the letter, that Olivia had locked herself in her room to read it, and come out with the marks of tears on her cheeks, but by then it had been far too late to do anything about it.
She hadn't asked. She'd assumed—hoped, rather—that Olivia would tell her about it in time.
"I do not make a habit of prying into my friends' mail," Gina said instead of answering.
The doctor shook his head again, and gave a little wave of his hand. "It hardly matters, I didn't... I only. I don't like it when she's unhappy."
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how he could possibly say that, when he left her so long with that bitch of a mother, but it seemed both cruel and unnecessary, so she bit it back. "Neither do I," she said, instead.
"So let me see her," he said, and he did seem to be quite sincere about it all. "Let me comfort her. I am truly very grateful to you and your family for all you have done for her, but she is my daughter. This is our...." He paused, searching for a word.
"Difficulty," Gina suggested, helpfully.
He blinked at her for a moment, then shrugged. "Difficulty. Yes. I am her family, so let me take her home."
Gina sat for a moment, regarding him thoughtfully. Nothing he had said or done at any time suggested that he would intentionally harm a hair on Olivia's head, and she had begun to think that there would be no unintentional harm either. He insisted on calling her his daughter, which certainly boded well. And Gina could be with her the entire time, could be sure that her own father was ready to pitch this man out on his ear should he become belligerent.
"All right," she said. "Yes. You may see her. But not until she has woken on her own and breakfasted." She looked at the clock on the mantlepiece for a moment. "You may return at eleven. We should be ready for you then."
Rating: PG
Summary: Gina has an unexpected visitor.
Warnings: depression.
Notes: Part 1. Hugh is referring to this letter.
Six days after Olivia came to Gina, a man turned up on her doorstep at an unfashionably early hour of the morning.
Gina's father was still asleep, so the maid came to see Gina herself, the man's card on her platter and an embarrassed look on her face. And any other time Gina might have been irritated—she was barely out of bed herself, and breakfast wouldn't even be served for another hour. But she had been waiting for this visit.
"I'm very sorry," Alice said, bobbing a little curtsey, "but he insists on seeing Miss Olivia, and she's still in bed and I don't like to wake her."
"Yes, of course," Gina said, somewhat at random, but she was occupied scrambling out of bed and into her dressing gown. "You're quite right not to wake her." Olivia had been sleeping so much lately but Gina's father said it was a good thing, and of course it made perfect sense. After what her mother had done to her Gina rather thought she needed all the rest she could get.
"Yes, miss," Alice said, and proffered the platter once Gina had herself more or less together. "Shall I send the gentleman away? Mr. Lawrence says he won't go unless he's told by the family."
Gina took the card, and noted with a distant thought that her hands were shaking. "No, no," she said, as she read the neat script on the card. Her shoulders relaxed. "No. Have him shown into the sitting room, please. And then please come back and help me dress."
Alice blinked, and hovered for a moment on the doorstep, indecisive. "Shall I wake Miss Olivia, miss?" she asked, rather doubtfully.
"Certainly not," Gina said, a little surprised at the bite in her own voice. "Let her rest. I shall see to our visitor myself."
"Yes, miss," Alice said, and went away downstairs.
--
She dressed as quickly as she could—chemise, stays, dress and drawers, thrown on in a hurry that would have appalled her mother—and did not bother to put up her hair. If her visitor would call at nine in the morning then he deserved all he got in terms of disorder. She looked herself over in the mirror, decided she was decent enough for this horrid hour, and dodged Alice's own appalled look on her way down to the sitting room.
Lawrence intercepted her before she reached the door, his leathery old face set in lines of disapproval. "Shall I ring for tea, miss?" he asked, in tones that spoke of doom.
"Yes, please, thank you, Lawrence," Gina said, as brightly as she could manage. Lawrence had been with her family since before she could remember, and if she was honest he still rather intimidated her.
His brows set deeper, but he said nothing more, and gestured at one of the footmen before preceding her into the sitting room. "Miss Caravecchio," he announced, in stentorian tones, then stepped back and glared indiscriminately. Poor Lawrence—he was not used to anything overturning his ordered little world, and here their household had been upset twice in less than a week. She would feel sorry for him, if she had any room left over in her mind, but as it was she was a bit occupied.
The gentleman on the couch stopped fidgeting abruptly and rose, anxious eyes meeting Gina's.
She took a deep breath, and stepped forward. "Mr. Marhenke?" she asked, politely. "Or should it be Doctor?"
He made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "Either, both, as you like," he said. "Please, where is my daughter?"
"Olivia is still asleep," Gina said. She seated herself in her favorite chair, and gestured to the couch he had previously occupied. "Please, sit down. I've rung for tea."
Dr. Marhenke seated himself slowly, with a considerable amount of reluctance. It spoke well for him, she thought, that he was so eager to see Olivia, but she was not quite ready to allow him good intentions. Plenty of people she would once have called friends had turned up in the last few days, wanting to goggle at the adulteress's daughter, and she had no way of knowing that Dr. Marhenke did not wish to break his daughter's heart all over again.
Olivia had no one else to defend her, so Gina would be her wall.
No sooner had the doctor seated himself again than Alice brought the tea. Gina poured, politely inquiring how he took his tea (cream, two sugars, and he answered rather brusquely), then sat back in her chair with her teacup held between her palms and regarded Olivia's father. He sat on the edge of his chair and did not touch his tea, and if Gina did not know better she would think he was practically vibrating in his seat.
"May I ask, Dr. Marhenke," she began, "what brings you here at this hour?"
He looked at her as if she were an idiot. "I've come to see my daughter," he said. "I need to see her, please."
Gina gave him a flat look right back. "Sir," she said, "we do not keep country hours in this household. As I told you before, Olivia is still sleeping. I am not inclined to wake her simply because you don't know when proper calling hours are."
"This is not a proper call," he said. Gina could hardly argue with him there. "I'm sure you know of the scandal."
"Everyone knows of the scandal," she replied. "The earl deserted his own wife not a year after their vows. If you hoped to keep this quiet I'm afraid you are far too late."
He shook his head, an irritated expression flashing across his face. "No, no, I don't care about that. I came because of what this must have done to Olivia. How is she?"
Now his face was desperate, begging, and Gina unbent a little.
"She is not well," she said. "She cries sometimes. She sleeps often. She is afraid of what you will think."
"Of what I will think?" He looked honestly shocked by that. "Did she not... I wrote a letter. Did it go astray?"
Olivia had received a letter, not two days after writing to her father, but Gina had not seen it. She'd been out when the post arrived, attempting to save as much of Olivia's reputation as she could, and by the time she returned home Olivia had seemed only calmer. It had not been until much later that Alice told her of the letter, that Olivia had locked herself in her room to read it, and come out with the marks of tears on her cheeks, but by then it had been far too late to do anything about it.
She hadn't asked. She'd assumed—hoped, rather—that Olivia would tell her about it in time.
"I do not make a habit of prying into my friends' mail," Gina said instead of answering.
The doctor shook his head again, and gave a little wave of his hand. "It hardly matters, I didn't... I only. I don't like it when she's unhappy."
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how he could possibly say that, when he left her so long with that bitch of a mother, but it seemed both cruel and unnecessary, so she bit it back. "Neither do I," she said, instead.
"So let me see her," he said, and he did seem to be quite sincere about it all. "Let me comfort her. I am truly very grateful to you and your family for all you have done for her, but she is my daughter. This is our...." He paused, searching for a word.
"Difficulty," Gina suggested, helpfully.
He blinked at her for a moment, then shrugged. "Difficulty. Yes. I am her family, so let me take her home."
Gina sat for a moment, regarding him thoughtfully. Nothing he had said or done at any time suggested that he would intentionally harm a hair on Olivia's head, and she had begun to think that there would be no unintentional harm either. He insisted on calling her his daughter, which certainly boded well. And Gina could be with her the entire time, could be sure that her own father was ready to pitch this man out on his ear should he become belligerent.
"All right," she said. "Yes. You may see her. But not until she has woken on her own and breakfasted." She looked at the clock on the mantlepiece for a moment. "You may return at eleven. We should be ready for you then."
