* .✧◦ ━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━ ◦✧. *
After the Ball
* .✧◦ ━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━ ◦✧. *
Finch was uneasy the entire way home from the ball. His father hadn’t said a word to him since the papers had been distributed and that scared him. He would much rather he shout at him, disown him, something, anything rather than silence. He looked to his mother, her eyes were gentle and forgiving, but he could see that she could not or would not go against her husband.
“Father, I-” He decided to break the silence, unable to bear the suspense anymore.
“Is it true?” His father interrupted, giving Finch a choice. He could either tell the truth and face the consequences or tell his father what he wanted to hear, that Lady Whistledown had been lying and he wasn’t a homosexual.
“It is.” He confirmed, his head bowed as he braced himself for what might come next. It was ironic. He had spent most of life wishing his parents would pay more attention to him and now that he finally had their attention for something other than his music, he wanted it to go away.
“Percival, perhaps we should wait until the morning to discuss this.” His mother pleaded. “Our heads will be much clearer.”
“My head is perfectly clear. That is not the son I raised.” With that he turned and walked towards his room.
“Percival, please.” His mother continued pleading as she followed him up the stairs. Finch stood frozen, unable to decide how to proceed.
“Finch.” Juliet’s hand touching his own brought him back to reality. He blinked, regaining his sense of himself. “True or not, it was cruel of Lady Whistledown to write that about you.” At this moment, their older sister came down the stairs.
“Come on, you two. Let us sleep and hope that everything will be better in the morning.” He wanted to tell his sister that her hope was useless, it would not get better overnight but he did not have it within himself to argue with her. Finch had always been closer with his sisters. As a child, he assumed it was due to them being the closest in age. Now, he could not help but wonder if he should have seen it as a sign that he was different from other boys his age. Maybe if he had, he could have prevented this from happening.
* .✧◦ ━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━ ◦✧. *
The Next Day
* .✧◦ ━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━ ◦✧. *
Finch didn’t wait to see what his father’s attitude towards him would be in the morning. Before his family had awoken, he packaged up his belongings and loaded them onto a carriage, having bribed the family driver. He had written letters to his mother and sisters the night before which he slid under each of their doors. He hoped that he would be far away before they read them, so they would not try to stop him. Before leaving, he stepped into the drawing room and towards his harp. He ran his hand over the smooth wood, wanting to commit the texture to memory. He dared not touch the strings, for fear of accidentally waking a member of his family or their staff. He hated having to leave it behind but he knew he would hate it even more if it got damaged or lost on his journey. In his note to Juliet, he left her instructions on properly caring for it until he could take it back.
As he headed towards the docks, something, or rather, someone crossed his mind and he asked the driver to make a stop along the way. He was unsure of how this stop would go but it was one he felt he had to make nonetheless. He did not when he would be returning and did not want to leave anything unsaid between him and the person he was about to see.
Orpheus Langston.
Since the beginning of the social season, every interaction Finch had with Orpheus had gone terribly and he could not leave knowing that. Which is how he found himself climbing the front steps of the Langston estate and knocking on the door.
“Good morning, Jerald.” He greeted when the Langstons’ butler answered the door. “Is Or- Lord Langston home?” He asked, catching himself before he could use Orpheus’ name. He wanted to remain proper until he was face to face with the man, in hopes that it would increase his chances.
* .✧◦ ━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━ ◦✧. *
@DandelionKate - Orpheus