Love and Marriage
Jun. 21st, 2019 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: Love and Marriage
Rating: PG
Summary: Love and marriage aren't the same thing at all.
Warnings: none.
Notes: For the record, this is set in the Year Without a Summer. It's nifty, look it up.
The house was utterly freezing. Gina was beginning to regret giving every servant their half day at once.
But how else was she supposed to get some time alone with Ivy? Joseph was away, baby Robbie slept soundly in his cradle, and the house was otherwise empty. And cold. She could hardly feel her fingers.
Gina sighed, and leaned over the arm of her chair. "Have you got it yet?"
"Nearly." Ivy knelt practically in the fireplace, bent almost double, trying to coax a flame into life. "Lord, I've lost the knack. Comes of not doing it for a few years, I suppose."
"It's May," Gina said, rather more crossly than she intended. "You shouldn't have to do it at all."
"Things happen," Ivy said, with unusual philosophy, and then laughed. "There! Hand me some of the smaller logs, please."
Gina slipped out of her chair and sat down beside Ivy. Some bright maid had already sorted through the firewood, so she had only to choose the smaller pieces and hand them over. "Did you do this often?"
"Every morning," Ivy said, balancing the wood in a careful cone around the flame. "Until Summer was old enough, at any rate." She flashed a grin over her shoulder. "No one wanted to be out of bed that early, especially not in the winter, so it fell to the youngest. It's easier when the fire's been banked, though."
"I'm sure," Gina said, though truthfully she had little idea what Ivy was talking about. "I suppose I should be thankful I never had to do it."
Ivy brushed her hands off on her skirt, then caught up one of Gina's and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "Perhaps. There's much to be said for staying in bed until the room warms up. But there's something..." She paused, staring unfocused into the fire. "I don't know. I liked being the only one awake sometimes."
Ivy had told Gina something of her upbringing, and she'd mentioned, once or twice, how crowded a small house could get-- mother, father, brother, baby sister, occasional aunts and cousins, the maids and cooks who helped around the place and once or twice lived in, not to mention the animals Ivy seemed to collect everywhere she went, like a modern Saint Francis. As marvelous as her family was, as close as they all were, those few moments of privacy must have been precious beyond words.
"Also, it's quite fun to start fires," Ivy added, which was far more like her.
"I'm sure," Gina said, dryly. She leaned over and kissed Ivy's temple. "Have we our fire, then?"
"If nothing goes horribly wrong in the next five minutes," Ivy said, cheerfully.
Because that was terribly reassuring. Gina decided not to address it, and put her arm around her lover's shoulders instead. Ivy leaned into her with a sigh, tucking her head between Gina's neck and the crook of her jaw, and for a moment they sat quietly, breathing in sync.
"Do you think," Gina asked, breaking the silence, "do you think you would want to marry me? If we could be married, I mean."
She was a little disappointed that Ivy didn't respond right away. She would have liked the answer to be an immediate and unequivocal 'yes,' but that was clearly not to be; when she glanced down at her lover, Ivy's brow was furrowed.
Finally she said, "No. But not for the reasons you think."
It stung. Gina wasn't too proud to admit it. Still, she managed to keep her voice from shaking. "Why, then?"
Ivy sat up, the better to look her in the face, apparently. "Well, it isn't really about love, is it? Marriage, I mean."
"Your parents," Gina reminded her, but Ivy was already shaking her head.
"Yes, I know, my parents, but they're something of an exception. All my friends' parents, the girls I was companion to, the first girl I..." She hesitated, eyes searching Gina's face, then went on without completing her sentence. "None of them married for love. Neither did you, really."
Gina opened her mouth to object, and then realized she couldn't, because... well, Ivy was right. She hadn't married for love, nor had Joseph. Nor had many of her friends. Olivia had, but she had also married beneath herself, and if her reputation had not been already ruined many of the old tabbies would have shaken their heads and muttered at it. Gina's parents had perhaps loved each other-- she couldn't quite remember-- but that was not why they married.
Ivy apparently decided she wasn't going to get an answer, and went on. "There's this, too; my mother was more or less disowned when she married my father. I don't think literally, but my grandparents have not to my knowledge spoken to her since. She didn't marry to oblige them, and that's what they thought marriage should be." She sighed. "So you see, it's never meant much to me, marriage."
"I do see," Gina said, and squeezed Ivy's shoulder.
Ivy wasn't finished, though. "But you," she said, and took Gina's free hand in her own again. "You mean everything to me."
There were other words, things Gina had meant to add, but Ivy said that and they all disappeared, so much smoke wafting away from the fire. She stared at Ivy, at her earnest expression and those beautiful, beautiful eyes, breathless, uncertain.
"You are," Ivy said, "so much more important than marriage. You are the great joy of my life, and I would not want to change that for anything. So, no, I wouldn't marry you unless we had to. I'd rather just... be with you. I think that's better."
"Oh," Gina said, "oh," and she tumbled Ivy down on the rug in front of the fire to kiss her just as breathless as she made Gina.
Ivy laughed into the kiss, and draped her arms over Gina's neck. "The correct answer, I assume?" she asked, looking up at Gina with huge, limpid eyes.
"Don't be disingenuious," Gina scolded, lightly, and pressed kisses all over her lover's face. "I wouldn't give you up for anything," she added, some time later.
"I know," Ivy said, hooking a leg over Gina's. "And I'd marry you if you wanted, if we could. If it would make you happy, I would do it."
"Nothing makes me happier than having you," Gina said.
They meant more than her wedding vows, those words.
Rating: PG
Summary: Love and marriage aren't the same thing at all.
Warnings: none.
Notes: For the record, this is set in the Year Without a Summer. It's nifty, look it up.
The house was utterly freezing. Gina was beginning to regret giving every servant their half day at once.
But how else was she supposed to get some time alone with Ivy? Joseph was away, baby Robbie slept soundly in his cradle, and the house was otherwise empty. And cold. She could hardly feel her fingers.
Gina sighed, and leaned over the arm of her chair. "Have you got it yet?"
"Nearly." Ivy knelt practically in the fireplace, bent almost double, trying to coax a flame into life. "Lord, I've lost the knack. Comes of not doing it for a few years, I suppose."
"It's May," Gina said, rather more crossly than she intended. "You shouldn't have to do it at all."
"Things happen," Ivy said, with unusual philosophy, and then laughed. "There! Hand me some of the smaller logs, please."
Gina slipped out of her chair and sat down beside Ivy. Some bright maid had already sorted through the firewood, so she had only to choose the smaller pieces and hand them over. "Did you do this often?"
"Every morning," Ivy said, balancing the wood in a careful cone around the flame. "Until Summer was old enough, at any rate." She flashed a grin over her shoulder. "No one wanted to be out of bed that early, especially not in the winter, so it fell to the youngest. It's easier when the fire's been banked, though."
"I'm sure," Gina said, though truthfully she had little idea what Ivy was talking about. "I suppose I should be thankful I never had to do it."
Ivy brushed her hands off on her skirt, then caught up one of Gina's and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "Perhaps. There's much to be said for staying in bed until the room warms up. But there's something..." She paused, staring unfocused into the fire. "I don't know. I liked being the only one awake sometimes."
Ivy had told Gina something of her upbringing, and she'd mentioned, once or twice, how crowded a small house could get-- mother, father, brother, baby sister, occasional aunts and cousins, the maids and cooks who helped around the place and once or twice lived in, not to mention the animals Ivy seemed to collect everywhere she went, like a modern Saint Francis. As marvelous as her family was, as close as they all were, those few moments of privacy must have been precious beyond words.
"Also, it's quite fun to start fires," Ivy added, which was far more like her.
"I'm sure," Gina said, dryly. She leaned over and kissed Ivy's temple. "Have we our fire, then?"
"If nothing goes horribly wrong in the next five minutes," Ivy said, cheerfully.
Because that was terribly reassuring. Gina decided not to address it, and put her arm around her lover's shoulders instead. Ivy leaned into her with a sigh, tucking her head between Gina's neck and the crook of her jaw, and for a moment they sat quietly, breathing in sync.
"Do you think," Gina asked, breaking the silence, "do you think you would want to marry me? If we could be married, I mean."
She was a little disappointed that Ivy didn't respond right away. She would have liked the answer to be an immediate and unequivocal 'yes,' but that was clearly not to be; when she glanced down at her lover, Ivy's brow was furrowed.
Finally she said, "No. But not for the reasons you think."
It stung. Gina wasn't too proud to admit it. Still, she managed to keep her voice from shaking. "Why, then?"
Ivy sat up, the better to look her in the face, apparently. "Well, it isn't really about love, is it? Marriage, I mean."
"Your parents," Gina reminded her, but Ivy was already shaking her head.
"Yes, I know, my parents, but they're something of an exception. All my friends' parents, the girls I was companion to, the first girl I..." She hesitated, eyes searching Gina's face, then went on without completing her sentence. "None of them married for love. Neither did you, really."
Gina opened her mouth to object, and then realized she couldn't, because... well, Ivy was right. She hadn't married for love, nor had Joseph. Nor had many of her friends. Olivia had, but she had also married beneath herself, and if her reputation had not been already ruined many of the old tabbies would have shaken their heads and muttered at it. Gina's parents had perhaps loved each other-- she couldn't quite remember-- but that was not why they married.
Ivy apparently decided she wasn't going to get an answer, and went on. "There's this, too; my mother was more or less disowned when she married my father. I don't think literally, but my grandparents have not to my knowledge spoken to her since. She didn't marry to oblige them, and that's what they thought marriage should be." She sighed. "So you see, it's never meant much to me, marriage."
"I do see," Gina said, and squeezed Ivy's shoulder.
Ivy wasn't finished, though. "But you," she said, and took Gina's free hand in her own again. "You mean everything to me."
There were other words, things Gina had meant to add, but Ivy said that and they all disappeared, so much smoke wafting away from the fire. She stared at Ivy, at her earnest expression and those beautiful, beautiful eyes, breathless, uncertain.
"You are," Ivy said, "so much more important than marriage. You are the great joy of my life, and I would not want to change that for anything. So, no, I wouldn't marry you unless we had to. I'd rather just... be with you. I think that's better."
"Oh," Gina said, "oh," and she tumbled Ivy down on the rug in front of the fire to kiss her just as breathless as she made Gina.
Ivy laughed into the kiss, and draped her arms over Gina's neck. "The correct answer, I assume?" she asked, looking up at Gina with huge, limpid eyes.
"Don't be disingenuious," Gina scolded, lightly, and pressed kisses all over her lover's face. "I wouldn't give you up for anything," she added, some time later.
"I know," Ivy said, hooking a leg over Gina's. "And I'd marry you if you wanted, if we could. If it would make you happy, I would do it."
"Nothing makes me happier than having you," Gina said.
They meant more than her wedding vows, those words.
