#margaretmulgrave

[earlharcourt]

CLOSED STARTER || @margaretmulgrave​ LOCATION || St George’s EVENT || Mulgrave / Harcourt Wedding

The sky was gray. Well, not gray exactly but it just before the sun fully rose and the world seemed to be this pale color, not really gray and not really white. Calming almost. Today was the day. Everything Richard had worked towards, fought for him in some cases, finally arrived. In just a few hours, Richard would marry the most eligible woman in London and the next aim in his life was to start. To secure his family line but that always seemed like a fun bit. Still, as joyous as the day seemed, when Richard woke up his thoughts were filled with Mathilde. It was to be expected even, given all that was about to happen. Margaret was to be Richard’s wife now. Mathilde had to remain in the past but even just thinking that made Richard’s heart feel as if it was being torn in two. 

A few hours before the ceremony, the world was just beginning to wake up but Richard had been up for hours. Just before his servants woke, Richard made the hour and a half trip to Egham, a town in Surrey where the Rawston’s reside and where Richard had buried his first wife. It was important to him that she was close to her family, despite how her mother seemed to hate Richard after his daughter’s passing. The polite thing would have been to stop in, pass on his hello’s while in town but it was his wedding day, Richard did not want to sour the mood. Soon enough, the carriage pulled up at the church and Richard stepped out, yellow chrysanthemums in hand. Richard did not dawdle. Instead, he walked right up to Mathide’s resting place while his heart was ripping itself to shreds with every step. Kneeling down, Richard pulled at the very sparse weeds growing out of the ground. “Hello my love. I’ve missed you but I gather you’re aware of that.” Richard laughed despite feeling a lump forming in his throat. “I couldn’t not come today and you know why. Well, I hope you do.” How oddly silly and comforting at the same time it felt as Richard spoke to a slab of stone that he imagined was Mathilde. He had to believe she could hear him, even just for this moment. “I am to be married again Matti, I’m sure you would like her but I want you to know that I’ll never forget you. My heart will still beat for you but I have to do this. I have to make her happy.” And that meant giving Margaret as much as his heart as Richard possibly could. As he spoke, the tears fell and his voice broke a little. “I will always love you Matti. As long as I breathe, as long as my heart beats in my chest, that will never change.” There was nothing else to be said. Richard put his fingers to his lips and then to the part of the stone with Mathilde’s name. It was a goodbye but it wasn’t final, nothing with Mathilde could ever be, and then he left to start his life as a newly married man. 

When Richard arrived back at his London residence, his staff were running frantically around. Richard didn’t have much of a chance when he was ushered into his room to bathe and then to dress. His wedding suit was perfect. From the black wool trimmed tailcoat to the vest that Richard had a hand in designing, it all served a purpose. The waistcoat was gold with small amounts of subtle emerald green thread in the embroidery detailing. Everything matched, everything was unified. Everything was to his satisfaction so why could his nerves not go away?

At St.Georges, Richard stood at the end of the aisle, fidgeting with his hands as he waited for Margaret. The vicar had eyed  Richard cautiously, as if he were expecting him to burst into flames at any given moment to which Richard continued to smile at the man. It was rather sad to look out at his side and see only a small amount of faces but that’s what today was. It was a promise and the start of his new family, embracing Margaret into his life as well as her family so why did every second he stood alone at the altar feel like an hour had passed?  And then it happened. The vicar asked all to rise and Richard took a breath, waiting as his eyes fixated on the doorway. Margaret was to enter St. George’s as Margaret Mulgrave but together they would leave as Earl and Countess Harcourt, to be a true partner to one another. All Richard could think of is just how excited he was to see her walk down the aisle. 

#margaretmulgrave #margaret: 010 #location: st georges #event: mulgrave harcourt wedding #hope this is okay!

[in-singh]

location: an office in Spitalfields when: noon in January closed w/ @margaretmulgrave

A midday rainstorm pattered against the grimy window of the small office off of Lamb Street. The calming noise intermingled with that of the soft purrs from a kitten in the corner of the room. Peter sighed and let his eyes study over the parchment before him once more, trying to focus on his most recent patient’s symptoms to no avail. He turned slightly in his chair and caught a glance at the invitation to the Harcourt wedding. Instantly, the guilt came.

He had never acted so petty in his life, yet how had he been expected to feel about his formerly betrothed’s nuptials to another. Of course he was happy for Margaret, delighted even. But perhaps he had been a little jealous? Peter had quite easily accepted that they would marry other people... but he was too naive to prepare himself for the obvious situation of Margaret marrying first. When the Duke called off the engagement, Peter was initially content, for it meant that he could focus on his career, and take care of his family. Though as the years passed, his work only kept him busy for so long. Now he longed for a woman with whom he could share his love, and build a finer life.

Fortunately, he was pulled from his racing thoughts by a quiet yet purposeful knock on his door. Peter rose and quickly tidied his desk before dashing to greet who he could only assume was one of his patients. Nothing could have prepared him for the face that met him on the other side.

“Margaret!” He exhaled, standing to the side so she could enter. “What are you doing here? On the East End. Alone?”

#peter and margaret #margaretmulgrave #thread - margaret mulgrave

[themarquessofislay]

☎

NAME: Half Scot (Margaret)

RINGTONE: x

PICTURE:

LAST TEXT RECEIVED: WHAT?!? … You are dying next.

LAST TEXT SENT: I might’ve killed your husband 🍺 Bringing him home now.

#answered #margaretmulgrave #initially I was thinking of that one line Thot Shit #but she would kill Kenneth if that was the ringtone

[lordedmund]

💭

three words :

humorous, friendly, blenheim

#( answered ) #margaretmulgrave

[francesackerley]

university au || frances

tennis practice several times a week

pearl necklace that is definitely not associated with a legacy secret society

the one night stand that got out of hand @jeremiahtheyankee

late night drinking & cram  shit-talking sessions (w/ @lucyofedinburgh, or @ixnay-on-the-ipshay and @margaretmulgrave if exams are drawing near)

weekend  hungover dog walks on the way to breakfast

glam nights out

texting in class

that one dive bar frances always swears she’ll never end up at (bow down to the raining billiards queen @sebastianofprussia)

also ft. body glitter that gets on everything, numbers from boys who won’t get a call back, flowers from the boy that will, monogrammed everything, lucy’s lipstick that went “missing”

#*musings #it should be telling that v little of this involves academics

[lordpembroke]

@margaretmulgrave​​​

Ernest’s London residence had a slight remodel last season, namely, the addition of a library in his study. He already had a magnitude of books there but naturally, with the months spent at home in Salisbury, it needed some refreshing. There were new publications of note, and Hatchard’s was the only acceptable place to find well bound books as far as Ernest was concerned.

“It couldn’t possibly have come out way back in April, really?” Ernest dismayed as he held onto the novella of his choosing, Atala by François-René de Chateaubriand. He’d heard mixed reviews and thought he might as well read it for himself (although reading about a 73 year old did sound quite dull). He sighed, already feeling antsy in that small book shop and made his way through the rows of shelves. He did not get far before he spotted Lady Mulgrave.

“Ah!” He said, tucking the novella under his arms. “The writer, you must have something good to recommend. You remember your directionless, not yet an earl, don’t you?” Ernest smirked at her and then nodded towards the shelves. “What are you looking at there?” 

Perhaps it was a bit too bold, considering the footing they left off on, but Ernest was curious and drunk as usual. She was Richard’s wife so he’d at least try to behave. “I must say, has there been no worthy publications in the off season? Tell me you have something to recommend, I can’t be seen walking around with this from. . .” He sighed and held up the book. “From April last year.”

#int. #margaret harcourt;; thread 001

[misterdowding]

@margaretmulgrave​

As much as Thomas traveled, he always managed to make it back to London to participate in the season. It was a good time to reunite with friends, to find a new fling, maybe even to get caught in the throws of passion for a new collection of poems. Presently, he found the ladder unlikely, already being in somewhat of a throw after departing Rome. Still, he enjoyed seeing familiar faces.

Fortnum & Mason’s was an old haunt of Thomas’s. It was a relaxing atmosphere to drink tea and people watch, an activity that often inspired a verse. If it wouldn’t inspire, it wasn’t worth doing, Thomas would argue. He leaned back in his chair, studying an older man sitting with his daughter, who was glancing about the room with wide, sparkling eyes. Thomas pursed his lips, trying to think of a metaphor, the right word to capture that startled, excited look upon her face when the door opened and in walked Margaret Mulgrave. Or, he recalled, Lady Harcourt.

A grin spread across his features and he rose from his seat, raised a hand to wave her over. “Lady Harcourt,” he greeted, all smiles and charm and etiquette to start. He walked over to her, looked behind her to see if she was accompanied by her husband, for he knew better than to banter in their usual way among him. 

"Care to sit with me?” He tipped his head to the side with a grin. “I’m sure you have nothing interesting to tell me, married life is dull, I’ve heard. Still, I have adventures of my own.”

#int. #margaret harcourt;; thread 001

[conradmowbray]

Lady Margaret Mulgrave turned Harcourt... It was a union of some import. The Harcourt name was standing on it’s final leg, and the Mulgrave dukedom was in the hands of a woman. Conrad expected that both families were pleased with marriage, and that by summer next there would be a proper heir to merge the two. 

He had not had the distinct pleasure of being introduced to Lady Harcourt prior to the luncheon, but he had heard whispers of her pleasant nature and rather becoming appearance. He had, in particular, taken interest in the tales of her successful captaining during the Bennetton Regatta. 

Leaning over towards the countess, Conrad offered a smile, and a dip of his head in greeting. “Lady Harcourt, I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. I’m Lord Mowbray.”

@margaretmulgrave​

#thread: the ingenue 001 #opp: margaret #date: august 1800 #event: luncheon

[missvane]

16 August, 1800

To the lovely Lady Mulgrave, 

I do hope you have managed to stay cool in this relentless heat. I am sorry I missed you at the Colchester’s soiree. It seemed the night got away from me, and before I knew it I was jostling home in my carriage. I would truly enjoy speaking with you again, if you would entertain it. I can hardly sit still these latter days of the season. It appears I am anxious for some form of change. Be it location, or marital status, or simply the color of my dress. 

Would you be so willing to join me on a promenade at St. James this coming Sunday? I look towards your response, and do pat your sweet Barnaby for me. 

With affection, 

Miss Ophelia Vane 

@margaretmulgrave

#thread: the ingenue 003 #opp: margaret #date: august 1800

[ernestpembroke]

Early August, 1800 / Afternoon / Fortnum & Mason @margaretmulgrave​

Being without a cook meant that Ernest was, for the time being, quite a regular at Fortnum & Mason. He was glad to say he received an application to fill that position and that hopefully, soon, at least that part of his life would return to normal. Of course he needed more than just a cook but it was a start and that satisfied him well enough.

Being the regular that he now, inconveniently was, Ernest made himself at home when he arrived for lunch. Just a week ago he found a journal left quite forgotten on a bench at Hyde Park and ever since, he’d taken to reading it. It was interesting, was all. Reading words someone wrote down with the intention that nobody would see. It was like he was a voyeur in the life of someone he didn’t even know. 

Engaged to a widower was mainly what he knew about the woman, which. . . Well, that did narrow it down quite a good deal. Still, he was inclined to finish his read before mailing it to the lady anonymously. he had no intention to do anything nefarious with the knowledge he’d gleamed from the entries, not that any of it was particularly scandalous, he just wanted to read it, as though it were a book.

Leaning forward, he took another bite of his lunch as he turned the page, near the end of its contents.

#( margaretmulgrave - thread 01 ) #margaretmulgrave

[earlharcourt]

CLOSED STARTER || @margaretmulgrave​ LOCATION || Harcour House DATE || January 1801

After a stay between their home in Nuneham and Blenheim Palace, the new earl and countess Harcourt had made their return to London, where the season was in full swing. Families flocked to London for the opening of parliament. Already, the modiste had a line out the door with mama’s fussing over their daughters. The Queen’s presentation had yet to begin and already but Richard’s mind was not on the upcoming debutants. Even as he walked through the bustling streets, all Richard could think about was Margaret. 

As soon as they had arrived in London, Richard had begun to feel as if something had shifted between the two. At first he assumed it was because they did not travel for their honeymoon but Margaret wasn’t the type to hold onto such trivial things, or so Richard had assumed. With the hassle of travel, Richard had assumed his wife needed a treat, and that was the reason for his early morning errand. Gunters had only just opened for the day and Richard was there, waiting outside to pick up a scoop of peach ice cream and another of almond, the very flavors Margaret had picked when they first met. It seemed a little romantic to Richard but he wanted this season to be smoother sailing than their previous one. 

When Richard arrived back at Harcourt house, he planned on heading right up to the drawing room where Margaret likely was but his valet, John Marshall, stopped Richard in his tracks. John was a good man, always loyal to the Harcourt’s, so when he expressed concern over Margaret’s supposed lack of appetite and increased fatigue, Richard’s heart started to race. He would not lose another person in his life, though Marshall tried to assure him that the news was not so dire, Richard simply could not hear the latter part.

Rushing into the drawing room, Richard must have looked like a madman. He practically burst into the room with the icecream still in hand. “I apologize for interrupting you.” Richard looked at his wife and saw she looked perfectly well. He felt rather foolish. “I…” I coughed to clear his throat. “I thought I would surprise you with some ice cream before it melts.” John was right behind Richard, placing spoons down for the newlyweds with a concerned look casting over Margaret. “Are you well my dear, John said you weren’t feeling well and I was a little worried.” A little was a bit of an understatement but Richard did not want to worry her.

#margaretmulgrave #margaret: 013 #location: harcourt house #jan 1801

[in-singh]

🍷- How do they feel about alcohol? 

Peter enjoys imbibing just as much as the average gentleman, but he doesn't like drinking to excess. He doesn't have any issue with his anyone else doing so, but when Peter does, he becomes forlorn.

#answered #margaretmulgrave

[ladywinsomes]

To Lady Margaret Harcourt ( @margaretmulgrave )

Nuneham House, Oxford

3rd January, 1801

    Dear Lady Harcourt, 

I hope that you have enjoyed a splendid respite from the hustle and bustle of London. I know that I am most grateful to have been reunited with my family and can only imagine the excitement you found waiting for you at Nuneham House. Winter has been brutal, but Yuletide and the new year have come and gone and I am looking forward to another season.

I would be remiss should I not inquire about how marriage has been treating you. Lord Harcourt is a handsome and kind man, one whom I look forward to getting to know more in the years to come. It goes without saying that I am also excited to grow closer with you, should you become the next Patroness. It would be delightful to have a fellow lady under the age of five and thirty.

As you know, I was chosen to be the Golden Swan at last year’s soiree. How that came about, I still cannot grasp. If anything, I was the dunce of the crop with the rumors that surround myself. Despite all of that, I am now tasked with throwing a house party before the 1801 season commences. Such an idea is daunting to say the least. I have been hiding out long enough, and am afraid that I shall officially be exiled from society by Lady Selwyn should a party not take place within the next few months.

Our friendship is still in the early stages, but as your first Patroness acquaintance, I would be honored for your input. The theme is not yet set in stone, however I think it would be just darling to throw the party on or around St. Valentine’s Day. It is one of my favorite days of the year, is it not?

I look forward to seeing both you and your dear Earl Harcourt and hope for your reply in time.

Happiest regards,

Arundel Castle, West Sussex

#lydia and margaret #margaretmulgrave #correspondence

[dorottyacrow]

@margaretmulgrave​

She stood at her mother’s side, lips pressed together in a smile as she looked around the room. It was her first ever soiree and while she knew the mask stunt would draw attention, well – There was still a certain anxiety about having so many eyes take notice of her at once. Fortunately, that notice was shared among two others and she was at least beginning to settle into the evening. Mostly, it was thanks to her sister Klara, who was happy to remind her that there was no way she’d let Klara be more pleasant company than her, nerves be damned. 

She moved through the crowd, feeling her mother’s watchful eyes on her when she caught sight of – Oh my. Lady Margaret. 

Dot contemplated turning around, not wanting to earn any more of her scorn, as much as she knew she deserved it. Still, seeing her now, and she looked quite well. . . Dot steeled herself and approached. 

“Margaret?” She said, offering a pleasant, though slightly nervous smile. She lifted her mask to reveal her face. “It’s been ages, I– You seem to be doing so well, your dress is beautiful.” Nobody would say the same to Dot, who somehow always managed to wear the most unflattering colors or the worst fitting thing in a room. “I hope you aren’t still angry with me, I know you probably are, but. . . Well it’s been so long I wanted to say hello. We’re in London, late for the season, I know, but you remember how my mother is when she has an idea. Is it true you’re engaged?”

#( margaretmulgrave - thread 01 ) #margaretmulgrave

[lordedmund]

late july 1800 / late afternoon / st. james’s park

@margaretmulgrave​

Truly, Edmund had picked his time to go out and paint poorly, for, as he had realised upon setting up his easel under a somewhat secluded willow tree, St. Jamese’s Park seemed to suddenly be flooded with an abundance of young people, their eager parents and servants looking to promenade. He should’ve known better, most parks were to be avoided during the afternoon - but Edmund simply couldn’t help it, the light was far too good to let it go to waste. 

And it was entirely to hot and dreadfully boring to remain indoors any longer, so he had packed up his supplies and had made his way down to the park. Edmund was eager to paint but he seemed to be interrupted the second he attempted to touch his brush down onto the canvas. Old friends from Oxford with their new wives, friends of his mothers’, cousins - he could not remember having quite this many - there was always someone demanding his attention.

It was exasperating. He had already moved his easel further away from the treaded path, where it now stood comfortably in the shade of the old willow tree. Edmund glanced down at his watch - a whole two minutes without another interruption, he noted, ready to attempt his first brushstroke once more.

Interrupted once more, however, by a rustling noise behind him. With a deep sigh he whipped around. “Surely, if I would have longed for company I would have promenaded, would I no-” He caught himself halfway through as he recognized the face before him, a faint blush raising to his cheeks. If anonye had a talent for utter embarassment it was sure to be Edmund. He cleared his throat. 

“Lady Mulgrave. My apologies, I was under the impression that you were another one of my cousins looking to annoy him. You are clearly not - I do apologise.”

#( margaretmulgrave : 001 ) #margaretmulgrave

[jeremiahtheyankee]

Mid July 1800 St. James’s Square @margaretmulgrave​

“What the bloody hell?”

A few ladies passing by on the street turned, shooting glares at Jeremiah, then following his gaze to the carriage. Its wheels were doused with red paint, some of which had splattered onto the body of the carriage, and one of the horse’s hooves. He’d asked the coachman to clean the horse immediately, and while he did, he stared agape at the damage done.

“I can’t ride around like this. I need--is there another carriage I can take?” One of the footman shrugged.

“I could go and seek one out for you, my lord?”

Jeremiah looked back at the carriage, reaching out and touching the wheel. His finger came back wet with paint. “Shit! N-Nevermind. I have to be back at the house soon and I can’t have this trailing paint everywhere. Have it taken to the carpenter, I’ll walk!”

---

a few minutes later

Jeremiah walked as quickly as he could down the cobblestone, trying to keep from outwardly shoving anyone out of the way. According to his watch, he was going to be late, and Mama was going to be cross with him because he’d already been late twice already this week.

Up ahead, he saw a familiar face and--her carriage!

“L-Lady Mulgrave!” he called to her, out of breath from practically running in this heat. He tugged at his necktie as he approached. “I wondered, could I trouble you for a--a ride, uh, to my house? It’s only a few blocks down the way in Belgrave Square!” In messing with his collar, he accidentally smeared red paint all over it.

“Shit.”

#margaretmulgrave #convo;margaret #convo;the ingenue #[[messy]]