Chương 280: Reception

We really only had a few minutes to socialize before the event actually began. Not just a social gala for the sake of it, this was a wedding reception, a gala with an ensemble cast. I prefer birthdays, parties with only one main character to keep track of. We got the word soon enough that the happy couple was on their way, and we let the staff direct us to our seats.

"Oh, good, I'm famished," Thumper groaned. She held my seat for me, charming, and scooted me in. I returned the favor, holding a perfectly straight face when her chair lifted a quarter-inch and scooted the last few inches to the table.

"How hungry can you be? It's not late, this is the same time you usually have dinner!" She whispered back to me.

"Well, I'm usually famished by then too! Besides, being nervous burns a lot of calories!" My smile was small but intense.

"Aw, you were nervous about our date?"

"What? Yes. Of course," she scoffed.

"But also about being here. Everyone at these tables has more money that everyone I've ever met put together." She gestured around, keeping the movement tight and close to her body. She was hiding herself from the people that I consider close. That kind of hurt. My place, my life, my view of society was something that frightened Thumper into being less of herself. I really would not have expected it. It made me disappointed in myself. I would not want to ever daunt her into hiding herself.

But I had time to think about it, because the doors opened and the newly-minted bride and groom came through and we all applauded loudly for them. They posed at the top of the dais and paused, waving, turning their smiles from one side of the room to the other. Picture-perfect, well-trained, exactly the etiquette. Just how I've been schooled to do it. Drilled so many times it's almost mechanical in its precision. Fuck this. I rose, whooping, and clapped louder. Laughter and cheers burst out, and others rose.

When the Crown Princess stands for an ovation, everyone stands. Thumper rose beside me, above me, and her shoe clumped onto the seat of her chair like a conqueror planting a flag. She set thumb and forefinger to her lips and blew a shrill staccato whistle of a cheer. A tension broke. The earl's heir and the earl's daughter in law both broke form, laughing a little, easing their postures, relaxed their shoulders. They clasped hands and came down the stairs, heading for their places at the dining table.

He did not tuck her hand to the crook of his elbow like a gentleman walking with his lady, nor held her hand like a friend. They clasped each other like a happy couple on their happy day, giddy with romance and hope. They both glowed. This is what I need to spend more time doing. I need to bring this kind of happiness to people. We are the Hearstcliff branch of the family, we're the Harigolds that left behind prairies and dairies for the big city and all its moral mildew.

The crowd around me are the most stuck-up and status-conscious Harigolds, leaving behind most of our rustic frankness. But we're still the least stuck-up and status-conscious house in Hearstcliff by a long margin. Scratch the skin, and the Meadowtam energy is right there. A new sort of smile was spreading across each face, and laughter that started from the shoulders and rolled through the body, rather than hid behind a fan. The best man had been clapping with his hands one above the other, level with his navel.

Now he was slapping his palms together, the impacts juddering through his arms, just under his chin. He called out "Speeeeeeech!" and echoes of it mixed with the laughter and cheers. The couple paused at their chairs, and began what were clearly prepared speeches. Rehearsed even. But the tone kept slipping back and forth.

Sometimes I could hear the speech that the groom had practiced in front of his mirror with a script, and sometimes he spoke those prepared words with real feeling instead, declaring his love and optimism for their lives. It was a measured and careful speech, but when he hit certain words- "forever", "grateful", "beloved"- his voice cracked open and we could see his heart and his joy.

And his bride was wiping at her eyes like she was trying to hide her tears of happiness, she had definitely promised someone she would not cry at the reception. Maybe herself. But it was failing, and she could not stop smiling and beaming and crying. After all, weddings do make so many people cry, often even the ones you'd never expect- wait a minute I snuck a look to my side, leaning a little to get a close look. She had most of her face turned away from me but there was a glisten. And a sniffle.

Finding out that Thumper cries at weddings, and even wedding receptions, made me go all giddy inside, and I had to fight to keep it quiet. I just clamped my hand over my mouth and dampened sound surrounding my face in case I let something slip. It would be rude to laugh. The maid of honor had her handbag on the table and was quickly penciling some cards on the table. Rewriting her own speech on the fly. This boded well. I sat back and let myself enjoy the occasion.

The groom's father was a vassal to my father, and we had met several times. The bride was not well known to me, marrying in from another family, I think a minor house, but clearly they had married for love.

"They are both just so in love," Thumper whispered to me.

"Yeah, it's really nice to see," I grinned. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"Is that even allowed?" she whispered.

"What? Why?" I asked, my voice low to keep from bothering anyone else.

"Well, I thought all the noble types had arranged marriage?" she said. Ah. This.

"Later," I said, patting her wrist. We listened to the speeches, and the jokes, and at least six "I know we're all tired of speeches so I'll be brief..." introductions. All told, the reception portion of the reception took about an hour. Thumper sometimes hung on the words and listened carefully, but sometimes I saw her focus waver and she looked around the room. The candlesticks, the chandelier. She felt the tablecloth and the plate set before her.

She looked at clothes and I even saw her give a suspicious amount of attention to the carpet. Filing all these memories away. The first half-hour was the main speeches, bride, groom, maid of honor, best man. Then the food was served, and the speeches were delivered by the rest of the wedding party, bridesmaids and groomsmen, as well as the father of the bride, the father of the groom, then the mothers, then siblings.

They mostly kept it short because they were aware that their own plates were going cold, and that nobody was paying as much attention to them as they were to their dinner.

"Holy shit," Thumper said, almost choking on the roast.

"That is so tender! This is even better than the food at that waterfall place! How?!"

"Lemme break your brain real quick," I said. I pointed around the room with my unused knife.

"These people are all used to it."

"Holy shit." Well, she's certainly going to be eager to attend more galas with me.

"So, to answer your question," I said to Thumper, my voice low and muted for just the two of us, "a lot of people in these circles do go for arranged marriages, like you said. And some of them are even affianced at ludicrously young ages. That-""Sorry? Financed?"

"Affianced. Engaged."

"Got it. Carry on, princess."

"Thing is, most of those very young engagements are made to be broken. Pledging an engagement between families builds a strong bond, which can make for good business relationships. You can sometimes hear about six-year-olds being engaged by their parents so that the bank will charge less collateral on a long-term loan, and then the families break off the engagement once the principal is paid down." She looked more than amused.

"They really are financed to each other."

"Affianced, not... It's... yeah, I guess you're right," I admitted.

"Anyway, arranged marriages do still happen, but the betrothal is not legally binding like it was historically. Four hundred years ago, my parents could have signed me into a marriage contract and I'd be criminally and civilly liable if I did not go through with the wedding. That doesn't happen anymore. There is still pressure," I said, and paused, and glanced at a couple of key figures in the room.

"Parents that will arrange a marriage and use strong-arm tactics to make the child obey. Disinheriting is a big one. But, since parents can disinherit the children for pretty much any reason, that really does just go without saying." She did not stop chewing, but her eyes got really wide and round. After she had appropriately savored, enjoyed, and swallowed, she spoke up.

"Wait, that's not right. There's all kinds of laws to protect inheritance rights, and make sure children are taken care of." I nodded.

"Yes. And the more high-stationed a parent is, the more easily they can ignore those laws. This is part of why it's a big deal that I won my succession in court, it's now official enough that not even a duke could rescind my birthright without going through procedure and allowing me to contest it. If he's going to disinherit me now, he'll have to work for it." I took a forkful of really good roast and ate with relish.

I may have told Thumper that we're all used to this quality of fare, but that was a slight overstatement. This chef has done something amazing. She glanced around at the room full of rubies, pearls and satin silks.

"I always heard that the noble classes were selling their children back and forth like living IOUs. The truth is actually both better and worse, I think."

"Better, I'm sure," I said.

"Look, there, the bride and groom. How happy they are. Even at his station, he can marry for love. My parents did too. And even the children that are disinherited frequently still have House connections, good education, and other resources. They may have to work a job, but that's not such a big deal, most people do work jobs after all. If my parents were to cut me off and I had to work in a shop, I might have fallen a long way but I won't land any lower than most people start out. Perspective is important."

This had been an ongoing fear of mine during my confinement. Three years with no letter from them, I was secretly worried they were preparing my emancipation and disinheritance. Worried that when I walked free I'd be stripped of honors and my legacy. Turns out I only went three years without any letters because my parents were too scared to talk to me. Scared of the impossible changeling child that had gone on a murder spree the very first time she was provoked.

"Are you all right?" Thumper asked me She was watching my face and looking concerned, before she was forcibly distracted. The next course was coming out, a steaming pasta with a cream sauce and mushrooms.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, smiling brightly.

"I have to make sure I get this chef and this recipe for my next birthday."

"Are you really that freaked out at the idea of working in a shop?"

"What?" I blurted, half-laughing.

"Oh, no, hah, no I'm not. That- that was something else." I was glad to see that she immediately believed me. I don't want her thinking that I actually would be too proud to work for a living if it came down to it. I couldn't say why exactly that felt important to me, but Thumper brings out the least pretentious side of me and I like that about us. Speaking of that.

"When we got here," I said.

"Um. You were... flinching. Your posture was narrow. You barely spoke. You looked like you were hiding yourself. Intimidated."

"Well, yeah," she chuckled.

"I fear no blade or bludgeon, I laugh in the face of danger. But this situation? These people? That's different. They're not going to stab me or slap me. They could just make me feel like I don't deserve nice things." I clapped my hand on her and gripped her shoulder tightly.

"I would destroy any of them that dared." She started to laugh, and saw my eyes, and gulped instead.

"You know, that's not the first time you've gotten scary on my behalf, but I keep forgetting what it looks like." I smiled brightly, and paused to thank our server, and then I started in on the pasta, twirling fork-to-spoon.

"Anyway, I just wanted to point out that most aristocratic events are not as laid back as this, and not as friendly and trustworthy a crowd. I'd be happy to bring you out again some time... but I can't guarantee a good time. Not like this." She ate her pasta, musing it over. I had tried to give her an offer of options without pressuring her with expectations.

"If you need me there, I won't hesitate," she said.

"But, if not? If it's not going to be enjoyable? I'd as soon not, really. I enjoy your company, and I like seeing new things. But I just can't fathom dressing up this much and putting all this work in for something you're not even going to enjoy. This? This is fun. Bringing you to a tournament is fun. I'm looking forward to the end of dinner so I can get to our first dance. But asking to tag along if it's going to be bad? There's no upside, unless you tell me you need me."

That was very well-reasoned and well-thought-out. Mature decision making, from someone who definitely knows their own mind. It was almost lost on me. I could respect her emotional intelligence later, because in that moment I was hung on one word.

"Dance?"