very_sharpe: (small smile bright)
Thomas Sharpe ([personal profile] very_sharpe) wrote2017-12-05 07:48 pm
Entry tags:

Where there's tea, there's hope.

Thomas tried not to be nervous. It was silly to indulge in that, wasn't it? It was just a nice afternoon tea, with a lovely woman. He should be practiced at this; it should feel like old hat.

But that was the thing: it wasn't, really. Edith had been the first choice he ever made, the first woman he ever pursued because he liked her. And now here he was again, about to spend time with someone he genuinely liked, that he was interested in by virtue of the fact that-- well, he was interested. And that meant sincerity, and sincerity meant vulnerability, and--

No, he would not get wound up about this. He wouldn't be an anxious mess - Greta deserved a lovely afternoon, and he would endeavor to give her one. His favorite teahouse was decorated for the season, and he'd gotten them a table in a cozy corner between the fireplace and a window. Since it was afternoon tea, they had a lovely assortment of sandwiches and desserts available for them to have at their leisure.

He'd dressed... nicely, but not overly fancy. It wasn't high tea, after all, and even if it was, modern tea service was quite different than what he remembered. No gloves required. A waistcoat and no proper jacket seemed appropriate.

As soon as he saw Greta walk in, Thomas rose from his seat and remained standing as she was guided to the table by the hostess.
andhiswife: (smile - friendly)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-06 02:50 am (UTC)(link)
After spending time with Thomas at the tree lighting ceremony, the prospect of tea had seemed a bit less intimidating. He was good with Saoirse, and the girl clearly liked him, which felt like a potential hurdle preemptively cleared. And Greta liked him. It was impossible not to; he was too entirely charming to dislike.

That made her nervous. 'Wary' might be a better word. Charm could be donned like a cloak, and goodness only knew what could be hiding underneath. She might count herself lucky that the worst thing she'd discovered so far was indifference. (Thomas doesn't strike her as indifferent, though. He's already spent more time and effort on getting to know her than she'd expect from someone who only wanted a hasty, meaningless dalliance.)

But more than anything else, what propels her into the tea shop is a burning curiosity to know just what he does intend with all this. That he might be making a sincere attempt to woo her strikes her as either hilarious, terrifying, or thrilling, depending on the moment; that this might be an oddly formal overture of friendship is intriguingly bizarre; even the thought of it all being some mean-spirited hoax is compelling, insofar as she'd rather shed daylight on the scheme than fall prey to it.

Regardless, she's here, in the nicest dress she owns. She wasn't about to make (let alone buy) a new one just for this occasion, and none of her dresses are purely for show... but this one is of a finer, light blue material she never would have been able to get her hands on back home. Not the sort of thing she'd risk by wearing it to work. She also has the shawl Biffy gifted her around this time last year (which probably is the nicest thing she owns, and makes whatever else she's wearing seem nicer by association). And she can't help but light up at the setting. She had no idea this tea house even existed, but it's bright and cheerful, and the exposed rafters and brickwork remind her a little of home.

She doesn't spot Thomas until he stands, looking... ugh, perfect, because of course he does. She is suddenly, profoundly grateful for the shawl, and she clutches it a bit tighter, as if to ward off the sudden conviction that, intentional or not, this has to be a joke. She must have stumbled into the wrong story again.

But she's too stubborn to turn back, so she follows the hostess over to their table and offers Thomas an uncertain smile. "Hello again."
andhiswife: (smile - sheepish)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-07 12:01 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, god, the 'Miss' is back. The urge to address it is stronger than ever, but she's not sure how to correct him without coming across as either discouraging (as if she's still wholly devoted to a husband she never expects to see again) or presumptuous (as if it's absolutely vital that she emphasize her availability right out of the gate). She settles on a third option -- one that might also be presumptuous, considering the company, but at least it's a normal enough request by Darrow's standards.

"'Greta' is fine," she says, softening the gentle insistence with a smile. As flattering as it is to be presumed worthy of such pretty manners, she's still just a baker. She'll probably only be able to take so much before it starts to feel more mocking than sincere, no matter how kindly it's meant. "And I'm glad you invited me. I didn't even know this place was here."

She ducks her head to hide a grin as he pulls out her chair for her (knowing the consideration might start to grate on her later doesn't preclude enjoying it now), then huffs out a quiet, amused breath over the thought of what to order. This won't be anything like a coffeeshop, with their token handful of options. "Dare I ask how many varieties there are? Is there a menu?" She's half-joking, but there is genuine curiosity beneath the dry humor.
andhiswife: (listening - mild)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-07 01:53 am (UTC)(link)
There, that's one awkward conversation successfully delayed. Greta accepts the menu with a intrigued little hum, relieved to see that it isn't as exhaustive as it could be. She's seen more variety in the shops around town than she does here. Not to snub the place or anything; she's just grateful the tea itself isn't going to make her feel as desperately out of her depth as... well, all the rest of this.

"Do you have any preferences?" she asks as she flips the menu over, making sure she hasn't missed anything. Part of her wants to nudge him towards an herbal, considering what even a mild dose of caffeine might do to her already jangling nerves. Then again, there's a soothing quality to any hot beverage.

Never mind that maybe she ought to be on her toes.

"I tend to lean towards green, personally, but I'd take any of these," she says, leaning forward a little and angling the menu so he can read it as well.
andhiswife: (profile)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-07 02:44 am (UTC)(link)
She makes a mental note of his preferences, and almost immediately feels like an idiot -- as if it's certain to come up in the future, as if there will even be one. Even without Darrow's fickle nature to contend with, she still doesn't believe this will last any longer than it takes for Thomas to realize what a laughable mistake he's made, taking an interest in her in the first place.

But, well... you never know. And after the gracious discount he gave her on Saoirse's present, it might not hurt to get him a little something in return.

"That sounds perfect," she says, setting the menu down and sitting back. She's enjoyed chai before, and while she hasn't had it blended with a green, she's curious to see how it will turn out.

With the tea decided, the myriad ways this conversation might go sprawl before her in a paralyzing maze. She ought to say something, justify her presence here even if it wasn't exactly her idea. If she were a Lady, she'd probably have no less than five inoffensive starters in her back pocket. She looks at him, floundering, wishing he'd just get to the punchline. Out of desperation, she abruptly says, "You're certainly looking sharp."

The unintentional pun registers half a second later, and she buries her face in her hands with a quiet, exasperated, "Oh, god."
andhiswife: (incredulously amused)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-07 04:51 am (UTC)(link)
She peeks at him from between her fingers for a moment before letting her hands drop. Her blush won't be going away anytime soon, so there's not much point in trying to hide it. "Thank you," she says, shaking her head at herself. "And not even an original one, I assume." He must get some variant of that one all the time, considering how well he dresses, even at the shop. But if he's tired of it, it doesn't show. And he has such a nice smile.

The news that he was fretting over what to wear is more reassuring than it ought to be, and Greta sits up a bit straighter. "Were you?" He says 'afternoon tea' as if it means something far more specific than 'tea you happen to have in the afternoon,' and the talk of gloves is downright horrifying. Just how do they do such things where he comes from? "I should hope not," she says, aghast. If he'd been that decked out, she really would have just turned around and left.

"Well, this is..." she tugs at her sleeve, giving the fabric an assessing look, "I don't wear it terribly often, because it's a bit much for work. I think I made it last spring." She lifts her shoulders in a rueful shrug, then adds, "If I'd needed something dressier than this, we would've had to postpone things a bit."

It's a somewhat embarrassing admission, but it also feels slightly challenging, like throwing down a gauntlet. If he thinks she's the sort to dress glamorously for some specific subset of tea that apparently requires such a thing, he ought to know he's mistaken.
andhiswife: (smile - tiny)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-07 03:32 pm (UTC)(link)
'Becoming' is an old-fashioned sort of compliment, one that she wouldn't expect to hear in Darrow, but one that would have been bandied about with more frequency back home. Even as she ducks her head in quiet pleasure, she wonders just when Thomas is from. Not so far back as her, probably, but perhaps closer to Biffy's time.

"I think we're technically on third impressions, at this point," she says, "if you count the shop and the tree lighting ceremony." Goodness knows what sort of showing she's made for herself on either occasion. 'Guffawing incredulously when asked on an outing' and 'losing her child and a 70-pound dog' aren't exactly impressive feats.

But she likes to think they at least managed to salvage the ceremony, even if it was Thomas's good humor and Saoirse's charm that did most of the heavy lifting. "You made an excellent impression with Saoirse," she says after thanking the server. "I was beginning to think we'd have to peel her off of you." She might feel a twinge of parental inadequacy on that front, but if someone like Thomas Sharpe had picked her up at that age, she probably wouldn't have been in any great hurry to be put down, either.
andhiswife: (profile)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-09 05:56 pm (UTC)(link)
"They must come into your shop all the time," she says with an understanding nod. A toy display would bring them in as surely as a display of biscuits would.

He doesn't really have the air of a shopkeeper, though. If Greta had met him under any other circumstances, the thought of him owning a little toy-making business would have struck her as rather outlandish. Not when he has the manners and bearing of someone with enough money to devote a lot of focus to things like 'manners' and 'bearing.' And 'dress codes,' for that matter.

"I take it there was no toy shop back home," she guesses. "What did you do before coming here?" She doesn't specify, 'what did you do for work,' because part of her suspects he didn't, but she doesn't want to presume things either way.
andhiswife: (incredulously amused)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-11 01:42 am (UTC)(link)
He's probably just being polite, with the solicitous way he arranges everything to be within easy reach, though it also occurs to her that he might be stalling. She'd hoped to phrase the question broadly enough so as to not put him in an awkward spot, and her gut twists a little to think that she might have done so, anyway.

It's an innocent enough question, though, isn't it? Honestly, it's the sort of thing that's bound to come up when you're getting to know another non-native.

When he does answer, she can't help an incredulous (and not particularly elegant) snort of amusement. He does have a title!

"'Not particularly impressive'?" she repeats. "You have a title!" She shakes her head in disbelief -- not that he has a title, which she believes easily, but that someone with a title is bothering with her at all. "I've been called a peasant, and you're telling me 'Baronet' is unimpressive."
andhiswife: (serious)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-11 02:18 am (UTC)(link)
Privately, Greta thinks 'Baronet' has a rather nice ring to it no matter how much actual money the wielder has in his pockets. She doubtless sets the bar lower than he would, though.

And she does have some experience with fathers leaving an unfortunate sort of inheritance to their sons. A shabby house might not be as bad as a literal Curse -- but then again, the sort of house Thomas probably lived in would have been a sight harder to keep up than a bakery. Especially with no money for staff.

"I'm sorry," she says, and she does look sympathetic. "That can't have been an easy thing to get off the ground, especially working from scratch." She's tempted to ask how on earth he funded it all, but she doesn't have to be one of the gentry to know that it's rude to discuss finances in such detail, especially with a new acquaintance.

There's another direction in which she could take things, and while she doesn't especially look forward to it, she knows she'll have to out with it sooner or later. She might as well take the opening while it's presented itself. "My husband inherited a Curse, so I know a little of what that's like."
andhiswife: (downcast - guilty)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-11 08:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Greta hums in affirmation as she takes a small sip of her tea, both to gauge whether she wants to add anything, and to figure out exactly how much of the story she wants to give him. It can be rather a long tale, and she doesn't want to bore him. Or have him think her completely barking. She knows time in Darrow tends to do wonders for one's credulity, but there's no denying that her story -- or her neighbors' stories, anyway -- have been firmly relegated to the children's fiction section.

And she already feels a bit silly, just by virtue of the fact that she's here at all. Having tea with a baronet, for goodness sake.

"His father angered the Witch who lived next door," she delicately explains, cheeks already prickling with a self-conscious blush. "And she put a Curse on his entire family -- which eventually included me, of course. We didn't even know about it; my husband was... very young, when it happened." She adds some honey to her tea, then adds, "We couldn't have children," as if it was a silly inconvenience and not absolutely gutting.

She can’t quite bring herself to look at him. She’s not sure she wants to see whatever expression he might be wearing.
andhiswife: (neutral)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-12 02:38 am (UTC)(link)
The hand on hers is a surprise. Thomas exudes such an air of propriety; she wouldn't have guessed he'd do something so, well... intimate. Not that it's terribly intimate by her own standards, but she can't help wondering if it might be by his. She's more than a little bit tempted to turn her hand over, to curl her fingers around his palm, but that would probably be too much. Besides, if she draws attention to it, he might notice and pull away, and she doesn't want that.

When she does gather the courage to look up at him, she finds far more sympathy than she was anticipating -- and less disbelief. There's no doubt at all, in fact, which is no small relief.

"We did manage to break it," she says, attempting a reassuring smile. "We had a son, just a month or so before I came here." She doesn't bother adding that she wasn't exactly given much time to revel in their victory; that much is obvious. Nor does she especially want to delve into the circumstances of her departure. That's not the part of the story that matters right now, and she doesn't want things to turn bleak. She's in a charming tea shop with a charming man; surely they can manage to enjoy themselves a little.
andhiswife: (downcast - lighting)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-14 04:48 am (UTC)(link)
He squeezes her hand. So it wasn't just an accident -- or if it was, it's one he's willing to double-down on rather than correct. It's a comfort, and it's emboldening. Though she can't do much with the way her hand is resting on the table, she does shift her thumb against his in a small gesture of acknowledgment and gratitude.

Her marriage is a less painful topic of conversation, though she's not sure why that should be. She's had no more time to get over that loss than the loss of her son. But then again, her child had been a more recent development, long-awaited and hardly won.

And she hadn't dallied in the Woods with someone else's infant. Perhaps that's why her son's loss had always felt less... fair.

"I was," she says, with the barest hint of dryness. She can imagine why that would be a concern for Thomas, and guilt plucks at her belly. She could have explained this sooner, though she still can't imagine how else she could have brought it up. "Not anymore, I shouldn't think. I don't expect to see him again."

It's not impossible -- few things are, in Darrow -- but the thought of honoring her vows on the off chance that Darrow will drop him in her lap one day seems rather pointless. Knowing her luck, if she did, the city would just bring her some older version of him that had accepted her loss and moved on with his life, and then she'd look like a fool for waiting.

She's had enough of waiting, anyway.
andhiswife: (baroo)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-16 03:13 am (UTC)(link)
He speaks a bit hesitantly, as if he isn't keen to admit that he was married once, too. Greta isn't sure why; from where she's sitting, it's rather a relief. There are plenty of well-bred men back home who would view a once-married woman as used goods, fit for a dalliance but not much else. If he's been married (and he deliberately uses the past tense, too), maybe he won't see fit to fuss over her having a history.

... Not that she even needs to be thinking along such lines. They're just having tea; he's not asking for her bloody hand.

"I suppose it would," she says, easily able to imagine how strange it would be if she were suddenly faced with her husband again -- or if he'd been here already, before she arrived. Treading a bit more carefully, she continues, "Was she sent home?" She doesn't want to inadvertently twist any knives, but she also wants to know if she'll be bumping into his ex-wife anytime soon.
andhiswife: (overwhelmed)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-16 04:50 am (UTC)(link)
Oh no. Greta stares at him, aghast. That's quite possibly the worst answer he could have given to that question, and she dearly wishes she could take it back. Even as he elaborates -- as if the fact that they weren't living together somehow makes it better, or the loss easier to bear -- she's shaking her head in utter mortification.

This really couldn't be going much worse, short of her upending the teapot into his lap.

And then he attempts to change the subject, and she can't help herself. She does try: she hastily lifts a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound she makes, which is more akin to a cough than a laugh, as if the horrible awkwardness is something she can physically dislodge.

"I'm so sorry," she hastens to add. "I'm not--it's not funny, it's dreadful, I just--" She just doesn't know how to make this right, and she unthinkingly reaches across the table to take his hand, a physical apology that she can manage more easily than a verbal one. "I'm so terribly sorry."

And now she is giggling, not out of amusement, but because she doesn't know what else to do in the face of all this awfulness except burst into tears, which she thinks might actually be worse. She has to bury her face in her free hand, and she can tell she's gone bright red. "God. Maybe we should just start with the weather and work our way up to books. I'm not sure we can be trusted."
andhiswife: (listening - mild)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-16 05:48 am (UTC)(link)
This is absurd. Other diners are probably giving them Looks. But she's far more concerned with Thomas's response to all this than that of any eavesdroppers, and when he squeezes her hand, she starts to believe this might be salvageable -- something they can look back on without wanting to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment.

She isn't entirely expecting him to play along, so when he does speak, there's a perilous moment where she almost starts giggling afresh. But she swallows, gives his hand a gentle squeeze, and withdraws so she can take a fortifying sip of her tea.

"It is nice," she agrees, managing to sound almost normal. "I didn't think I'd miss snow very much, but they're so much better about clearing it away, here. You can just appreciate how pretty it looks without having to slog through it all the time."
andhiswife: (welp)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-18 03:26 am (UTC)(link)
The rest of their conversation goes so smoothly that Greta almost marvels at it. But then again, it's hard to remain nervous when you've already stumbled into every awkward pitfall possible within the first five minutes. Buoyed by the relief of being past it all, it's much easier to just talk, without getting hung up on the fact that he's a Baronet who could probably do a whole lot better than a baker's former wife.

That particular hang-up returns full force when he invites her to Magnus Bane's holiday party. She received the invitation as she had all the others -- and, like all the others, she'd assumed the proverbial 'everyone' didn't include her. 'Everyone' was invited to the King's Festival, too; that didn't mean everyone presumed to go.

"I--" she huffs out a laugh and sits back, shaking her head in bewilderment. "I've never been to one. They're not..."

How does she even explain this? He's probably been on the guest list of every party within a hundred miles, back in his world. Baronets go places that Bakers never would. For a moment, she almost resents the invitation, no matter how well-intentioned it might be, because now she has to do this. She has to bloody well spell it out for him, when it's something that, frankly, he should already know.

"They're not for the likes of me," she explains, cheeks prickling. "'Everyone' never really means everyone."

Even as she says it, a small part of her objects that she's not being fair to Magnus; they get on well enough, and she can't imagine he'd turn her away at the door. But still.
andhiswife: (oh for)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-18 03:55 am (UTC)(link)
That's not the point, though she also can't argue against it. She's not afraid of being caught. At worst, Magnus would probably just be pleasantly surprised to see her, knowing what he does of her own experiences with magic.

And it's not the magic that puts her off, either. It's just that grand parties have always been things she imagined attending. In her imagination, she can't wear the wrong thing or fumble the dance steps or otherwise make a fool of herself, revealing to all and sundry that she's a--a peasant with no actual business in such a setting. In her imagination, it can't all go wrong.

She really, desperately doesn't want things to go wrong with Thomas.

And his comment about wanting to 'have someone to share that with' is so charming it's almost infuriating. How is anyone supposed to say no to that?

"I have nothing to wear," she objects, but it's clear from both her tone and her expression that she's faltering.
andhiswife: (incredulously amused)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-21 05:10 am (UTC)(link)
She shakes her head again, though this time, it's less at him and more at herself: some last vestige of her sensibility insisting that this is a bad idea, while the rest of her gets caught up in the thought of actually going to such an event. Not just imagining it, but being there.

Things are different here, aren't they? She's still working class, but so are most people. Coming to Darrow tends to be something of an economic equalizer. And if she can't quite shake her own class-related insecurities, she's not oblivious; she knows most other people don't share them. Look at Biffy: he's every bit as well-mannered (and well-dressed) as Thomas, but he's never been anything but kind to her, and she's never really considered herself unworthy of his friendship.

He could probably help find her something to wear, now that she thinks about it.

"No," she says in resigned response to Thomas's insistence that she could think about it. She could pretend to think about it, but all she'd really be doing is fretting over the decision she's already made. Belatedly realizing he might take that 'no' as a general rejection, she bolts upright in her chair. "I mean--not 'no,' that I don't want to go at all, I... I would. Very much."
andhiswife: (smile - appreciative)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2017-12-28 12:19 am (UTC)(link)
The offer to bring Saoirse along is a relief, for the most part. Honestly, if Magnus is throwing a party and inviting children on purpose, she feels all but duty-bound to bring the girl along; she doesn't want to imagine the look she'd get if she had the audacity to show up without Saoirse in tow.

On the other hand, she knows what a convenient buffer children can be. It feels like the nearest thing they could get to being chaperoned, and she can't help but wonder if this is an exceedingly gracious willingness to include her young charge -- further reassurance that Saoirse isn't a problem -- or an attempt to keep things from getting too... improper.

And it's not as if she can really fault him for wanting to, what, progress at some sort of rational pace? She's the one getting ahead of herself. She should be thanking her lucky stars (or perhaps just Mad Sweeney) for every moment she gets with him, not chomping at the bit, in pursuit of more than he's willing to offer.

"I'm sure she'd love to come along," she says, hoping her smile isn't coming across as rueful. "And I'm sure Magnus would be thoroughly unimpressed if I left her at home. He's rather fond of her, as well."
andhiswife: (grin - satisfied)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2018-01-02 04:41 am (UTC)(link)
If it came from anyone else, she'd think 'honored' was laying it on a bit thick. It still might be, quite honestly, and she has to quell the urge to roll her eyes, even though there wouldn't have been any real scorn behind the gesture. More of an 'oh, please,' than anything else. But with Thomas, she thinks he might actually mean it. Not that it's a literal honor, which is ridiculous, but that he isn't winding her up or going overboard on purpose.

"Oh." She checks her phone, startled to realize just how much time has passed. It's not late enough that she has to leg it back home -- Saoirse won't be shivering on the front step or anything -- but she shouldn't linger much longer if she wants to beat the lass home without rushing. "Yes. She'll be getting home from school soon."

It's a pity. She hadn't known what to expect, going in, and she hadn't been certain of his intentions. But it's getting easier to believe that this is all sincerely meant. Whether he's slightly mental for being interested in her may be up for debate, but... god, he really does seem interested. It's unbelievable, and ridiculously flattering, and she'd really like to stay longer and just sort of bask in it, as if he's the walking embodiment of an unseasonably warm day.

She settles for a wide smile that she just barely keeps from turning into an outright silly grin. "I think I could manage that. We only tried one tea, after all." There, that's a much more measured response than what she's actually thinking, which would be something more like, God, yes, of course, you're dreamy and I can't believe you actually want to see more of me, I'd be completely bonkers to turn you down. At least she has some restraint.