| Welcome to For King and Court. We hope you enjoy your visit. You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Join our community! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| You Again?!; teenager Wills | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: May 15 2011, 10:41 PM (151 Views) | |
| Catherine Willoughby | May 15 2011, 10:41 PM Post #1 |
![]()
vérité sans peur
|
Late 1508, after the arguing/dance thread At every chance Lady Willoughby got she desperately tried to get her young daughter Catherine together for some walk or a dance or even a private family dinner with the Viscount Dorchester. It was quite tiresome for the girl of nearly fifteen, knowing now that she was an adult and beyond canonical age, that her mother was keen to find someone to eventually marry her off to. She was always on her best behavior if others such as her mother and Dorchester's grandfather were around, but if it was the two of them, inevitably they declined into a sparring match of witty words and insults. At least William Spencer challenged young Catherine Willoughby's mind, but that was all she could say for his suitability. She absolutely did not want to marry him. With the new year approaching in a few days, still at court for the festivities, Catherine was nagged by her mother to go for a walk with Dorchester. The young baroness sighed, stomped her feet, and was waiting outside for the older boy--a man to her, really, nineteen to her near-fifteen years--in a pretty cream-colored gown picked out specifically by her mother, long hair brushed until it shined. How tedious it all was. William Spencer wouldn't care how she looked. She flounced to a bench outside, the fur of her sleeves keeping her warm along with all the layers, wishing she had brought a book or some other form of entertainment. Her mother undoubtedly had planned this with the young man's grandfather, so he would be here soon. She hoped. Catherine detested being late or others being late, especially if it meant she had to dilly-dally around waiting for ages. Twisting a lock of dark hair around a finger she began humming to herself, a nonsense tune she had once heard at court being played by the musicians. Catherine waited and as soon as she heard footsteps crunching in the snow she turned to the noise and saw finally he was coming. "Do you think they mean to torment us on purpose like this?" she muttered. No greeting, just a complaint, knowing probably the fellow before her would eventually be her husband. Ugh. She knew she could not choose herself, nor would she dream of it, but really, they did not get on so well, even if it would be a good match... She was too young! |
|
[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
![]() |
|
| William Spencer | May 15 2011, 11:09 PM Post #2 |
![]()
Lord Winchester (courtesy)
|
William Spencer was honestly loathing this baroness getting older, and all he could wonder about was if he was going to be married to this girl sometime in the approaching new year. The nineteen year old Viscount Dorchester did not wish to be married, not at all. He enjoyed what freedoms he could muster, because his life was mostly devoid of them. He hated this place, and he hated his grandfather. In fact, right now, Viscount Dorchester wished to be with Mary Shelton, not Lady Catherine Willoughby. He had begrudgingly allowed servants to put more layers on him whilst his grandfather informed him that he was to take her for a walk outside in the gardens and then it was suggested perhaps through the gallery. Dorchester knew better than to contest his grandfather outright. The two barely spoke to each other, merely exchanged words. Very scripted words on William's part. Pulling at his gloves in annoyance, he made his way outside to meet her. She was pretty enough, he supposed, and she amused him, most times, but he would seriously lament this. She would have his children? Ugh. He thought not, but it was not his choice. He supposed he could do worse. His marriage probably would have been better than this in France! He almost felt his own grandfather was selling him too cheaply, like there was a complete meanness or stain about him. What did he expect? He could not hold it against her, or at least, that is what he kept reminding himself. "I do not know," he replied, just as casually. "Let us walk fast, my Lady, we can blame it on the chill and be done with the deed. You will earn no pinches, I will earn no smacks, and all will be well." It was likely a testament that they actually got on better than they realized that they both felt similarly about these arrangements. In fact, were it not for the fact that his grandfather was entertaining her as a match for him, he might have likely her saucy tongue, and were it not for the threat of marrying him, she might have had less reason to wield her tongue like a soldier's sword. He folded his hands behind his back and started walking, the snow crunching under their feet. "And how are you keeping today?" he felt obligated to ask, looking down at her. He kept repeating that this was not her choosing either, over and over in his head. It would be so easy to be cross with her for their circumstances, although it was none of her doing either. |
![]() |
|
| Catherine Willoughby | May 15 2011, 11:18 PM Post #3 |
![]()
vérité sans peur
|
She was glad he seemed as unenthusiastic about this as she was. Neither particularly wanted to spend time together forced upon them. Had it not been forced, Catherine would not have minded entirely too much; she would probably have been nicer, less apt to comments that were not appropriate for a young lady to say. "That is a good idea, I am surprised you came up with it," she quipped, unable to not say something like that. Sometimes she didn't like that the first thing that came to her head--and of course then came from her lips--were rude words. Catherine blamed on being so sheltered, with a few people as friends, no more than that, growing up almost all on her own with adults for company rather than other children or at this point young ladies. "It is too cold for a walk anyhow. We know why they want us to walk together but do they think we shall suddenly desire to marry one another if we go for another walk or dance? Are they as foolish as they think they are bright?" She let out an over-dramatic, deep sigh as only a teenage girl could do, a whole-hearted sound that was almost comical. Shaking her head, dark hair shifting over her shoulders, she frowned up at Dorchester before stepping in line with him. Catherine didn't offer him her arm or anything like that, they were just walking together. "I will be glad to go home soon. I hate it here. It is so... so... court is not a place I like," she grumbled, stumbling over the words she wished to describe the place as. "I know no one and my mother constantly is bothering me about everything. As she is here almost always, when I am home, I do not need to be bothered by her. Ever. And here--every day! Every day it is something she needs to slap me about or lecture me." God knew where little Catherine got her confidence, with a dragon for a mother who belitted her baroness. She tried her best to ignore it, though some of it stung. "And your grandfather, is he the same? See, I think they get on far too well, they should not speak to one another. Then we would not be forced to enjoy each other's company because they are stupid thinking we will marry each other when I do not want to marry you and you do not want to marry me..." |
|
[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
![]() |
|
| William Spencer | May 16 2011, 04:17 PM Post #4 |
![]()
Lord Winchester (courtesy)
|
Such a pert tongue on this girl. God's Blood, Dorchester was quite glad he was used to the girls in France because not many girls were like this in England. She did not phase him. He merely pushed off much of what she said with slight amusement or a smirk on his face. He was a man, she was a woman, and that was all he needed to know. For God's will was that men should have control of women and not the other way around. She could poke at him with that sharp tongue as much as she liked and nothing would change that fact about the world. If it gave her a sense of autonomy to practice her barbs on him, well, when it amused him, he would return them. For a women, as least she was highly interesting. "No, my Lady, they simply do not much care what we think or want," he replied. Dorchester had heard many a story of children who did not wish to marry who were simply beaten until they changed their mind and were pushed into vows. No mistaking, if you were told to marry, there was little to be done for it. Such contemplations made Dorchester lick his lips, wondering what felicitous joy that would bring him. Simply imagining his marriage bed was enough to make him cringe. She was tiny and young and clueless. He knew he would all but feel that he was raping her, even if he tried to show her all kindnesses. He had only ever slept with one virgin, and it was something he rather loathed about marriage. He did not wish to....take someone who did not wish to receive him. However, when he was his married, it was his Godly duty to do so no matter the method. Such thoughts did not please him. Her grumblings were not dissimilar from his own, but he usually did not voice them. What was there to earn from such things? A smack or worse. "Woe be to you, Lady Willoughby. I am sure your existence is such a mean one, off in the country most of the time, away from such things," he found himself saying, and not necessarily with as much empathy as she was perhaps expecting. "I hate most all of England. You should feel it fortuitous that you only have to deal with short stays at court." Perhaps that he hated all of England was an exaggeration or perhaps it was true. His life here...was not a good one most days. What he really hated was not England, but his grandfather. "He does not hold regard for me in the least, and I am little better than a possession. He treats me little better than a servant, and I have no choice but to obey him..." He shrugged it off, his head still held high as he looked off into the distant blankets of white as their feet crunched through the snow. "I think if they like each other so much they should marry," he said with a scoff. "Then they could talk all of the time and drive each other to insanity instead of us." |
![]() |
|
| Catherine Willoughby | May 29 2011, 06:48 PM Post #5 |
![]()
vérité sans peur
|
It was simply a marvel to Catherine that her mother kept pressing on the issue of marriage, saying that a woman could not do a thing by herself, she needed a husband; but at the same time her mother ran the family estates quite well by herself with no help from any man. If her mother needed no man, then why did she? She was only fifteen. Yes, of marriageable age, but she didn't want to marry anyone. If Mary Willoughby could manage, then her daughter surely could too! Those thoughts made her grumble, "And my lady mother is obsessed with the idea of marrying me off, saying I can do nothing in life without a husband; but she has no husband and she is quite fine by herself..." Catherine wasn't exactly talking to William; she was muttering to herself, really. The girl scowled fiercely at William. Did he think his life was easier? He did have it easier. He was a man, one day he would be in possession of his family's estates and money; Catherine was expected to marry someone who would, relegating her to only having children as it was a woman's one duty in life. He could be independent. She never could be, and she chafed at it. "And you think I am better off than you!" she scoffed. "You are a man, you can do whatever you wish, especially when your grandfather dies," she continued without one ounce of sympathy, "whereas I am going to be stuck married probably to some horrid old man or you who doesn't like me doing one thing, stuck in childbed until I die! And you think I have it easier than you! You are a liar and a complainer." That was the pot calling the kettle black, but she had the firm conviction of the young that she was absolutely right. "You had better not hate England so; if we end up marrying you shall be cursed to stay here forever!" She spoke with a nod, looking at him out of the corner of her eyes with an irritated little frown. My God, he was a fool! To think his life was something to moan and groan about! "Well, if you marry someone, she will be your possession, then you have something," said the girl tartly, recalling something her mother once said. Marriage was a business arrangement, the girl the commodity to be bought and sold to whoever wanted her. "I would not be a good wife to you or anyone, I would not obey anyone." That was obvious enough judging by her tempestuous nature. Perhaps it would soften in time, leaving the proud girl a little more meek, a little more like a wife...but part of her knew that acting this way meant she would frighten anyone off. She felt all of this stupid conversation about marrying someone--and to marry William Spencer of all people!--was stupid, a useless waste of her mother's energies. Catherine nodded in agreement, imagining her mother married to Dorchester's grandfather. It would keep both of them off their respective backs, but it would never happen. Her mother was far too independent now, with Catherine's father having been gone more than five years. "I do not think my mother ever wants to remarry, it would mean she would have to give up the power she thinks she has," she mused, astute for once. "But oh! If she did, she would leave me be and I could read or do as I pleased... that would be wonderful... then she would have someone else to torment with her demands..." |
|
[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
![]() |
|
| William Spencer | Jun 3 2011, 08:25 PM Post #6 |
![]()
Lord Winchester (courtesy)
|
William raised his eyebrow at her grumblings. One day, he would have some autonomy, but no time soon. At least, he did not think so. Until then, he thought his life much worse than hers. He was in a place that was not his home, with a guardian who would sooner knock his head off his shoulders than hold a conversation with him. "But she had a husband once," he commented, raising an eyebrow at her. To Dorchester, the elder Willoughby woman had come across fortuitous circumstances to some extent. Most women did not fare well at all without a husband. William was a bit put off when she railed about him thinking he was worse off than her. Was she so absolutely short-sighted and selfish? He wondered where her sense of empathy went. Women were supposed to have such. He was not so sure this one did and that displeased him to some extent. Dorchester had no desire to live with a harpie and have half-harpies for children. "I was not speaking of all of posterity. I was speaking of now, which is what matters. I cannot do whatever I wish. I can do very, very little that I wish. I am likely going to be stuck marrying someone I do not like either." He let out a huff of intense derision and dislike, trying to rein in his temper. Unfortunately, like most Spencers, once William's temper got up, especially around certain sorts, it was coming out. "You live away from your mother most times. I do not have that luxury. Everything I do is scrutinized and criticized, and it matters not if I do exactly as I'm told. Do not think to pity yourself so greatly that you cannot understand the plights of others, it is foolish. When your mother beats your with her walking cane, you can tell me your existence is meaner than mine." He shot this back at her, rolling his eyes. Such a little girl, so self-concerned. "And if we marry, it is YOU who must follow me." As things stood, he would one day be Duke of Nemours and have far more titles and estates than England could ever provide. If they were married, she would not be the boss of him, and she would have a sad surprise of it apparently. Then she railed on further, speaking of her being his possession. She was so...contradictory and illogical. It maddened him. He just wished her to close her mouth and walk. Walk faster if possible. He looked at her for a moment, as her mouth ran and her tongue wagged, wishing nothing more than to quiet her. Then, he did the strangest thing. The only thing he could think of to occupy her whip-like tongue. Putting a large hand to the side of her face, he leaned in and kissed her, planting his lips on hers first and then pulling her upper lip between his. Now this...wasn't so bad. |
![]() |
|
| Catherine Willoughby | Jun 13 2011, 10:23 PM Post #7 |
![]()
vérité sans peur
|
Yes, her mother had a husband. She had a father. He died. It didn't much matter; Mary Willoughby had always ruled her world with an iron fist, and her easy-going father had simply laughed and allowed it because it meant little business for him while he was away at court. Catherine barely remembered William Willoughby, only that he was the complete opposite of her mother in every way. He was kind and gentle, he did not mind much that he only had a girl to succeed him. She wanted to marry a man like her father. Not some puffed up overblown boy like Dorchester who got on her last nerve and thought himself so very high and mighty because he was half-French or whatever it was set to inherit a mighty earldom. Catherine was indeed worse off than he. She was a girl! She had no rights! One day, he would. One day, he would be a man in charge of his own fortune and life, and she would always be a wife to walk one step behind. She did not have the boldness of her mother to challenge convention, but oh, did she wish it! And here he was! Speaking to her so! She had a girl's indignation, making little noises of disgust as he spoke to her so harshly (for it was only alright when she did it to him). "Even if we did marry, which we will not, for I would never marry such a fool as you," spit out little Catherine, her blue eyes flashing dark with temper, "I would never follow you in anything I did! I would go my own way and if you dared stop me I would... I would--" She didn't know what she would do, because he pressed his lips against hers in an effort to do something. Shut her up maybe. Catherine was horrified. For all her vociferous anger, it faded immediately, crackling down to ashes, in her shock and disgust at his actions. She felt invaded by a grown man's kiss. Even if...even if she admitted that she had been wondering what it was like, to be kissed; not by him, but by anyone. And she also had to admit she liked it, just a little. She wanted to know more about this kissing business. "What was that for!" She had tried to sound angry but she knew she sounded more like a shocked little girl with her big eyes staring up at him. Not how she imagined in her girlish fantasies her first kiss. Not at all. Catherine was mad about that, too. God! Did he always make her so angry? And why! |
|
[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
![]() |
|
| William Spencer | Jun 15 2011, 10:19 AM Post #8 |
![]()
Lord Winchester (courtesy)
|
William had to admit, of all his experiences with Catherine Willoughby, kissing her had to be the best of them. Not because she was a particularly good kisser, because she was woefully...absent...probably in shock at his invasion, but because she was quiet and pliable. Much better. Not to mention it put him in full control, and he felt as if he had made a bit of a conquest, in an amusing sort of a way. No doubt their guardians would be pleased! Such a thought amused him and made him let out a huff of laughter. Of course her mouth opened too soon. Her eyes were wide and he smiled down at her mischievously. "It seemed to be a proper solution to stopping the wagging of your tongue and to give it something constructive to do," he said with a smirk as he leaned in again, intent on kissing her again before she could say very much in response. To be sure, he would take as much as she would give him there. He wondered briefly if this is what they would resort to if they were married. "Besides," he commented, "If you are likely to be my wife, you should get accustomed to the idea of such things." Yes, Dorchester thought that perhaps here, he had found something to torment her about. For as sharp as her tongue was, he needed a sharp blade in return. "Such things and more. I wish to have many children." He looked at her suggestively - which was comical to him - and his eyes glinted mischievously. |
![]() |
|
| Isabel Leigh | Aug 9 2011, 09:41 AM Post #9 |
![]()
Virtue alone is invincible.
|
This thread has been archived either due to forwarding of board timeline or because of a month of inactivity. If you would like to continue, please PM an Admin! |
|
[align=center]Mistress Leigh Isabel is in 8 threads and can has more! App | Plot[/align] | |
![]() |
|
| « Previous Topic · In the Past Graveyard · Next Topic » |










6:26 AM Jul 11