LORD OSCAR SEYMOUR ENTERED THE breakfast hall of the Seymour estate, his attire polished to perfection and his hair windswept with precision, even though his mind was still groggy from sleep. Oscar loved that about himself, he loved being so presentable that the person in front would have no clue as to what was going on inside his head. People tend to judge a person by what they can see, and he always intended to feed them exactly that.  

The breakfast hall, just like the entire manor, was lit up by the morning sun. As a result of a dozen windows in the manor, understanding the weather outside was no problem. The sun sat perched in the highest point in the sky, and it was eight o' clock. The sky was clear, showcasing the blue for as far as the eye could see, and the snow had stopped. 

Although the snow already fallen looked as though it hadn't shifted an inch since last night, Oscar was sure it would melt and all would be made right again for his day to actually begin. 

Lady Seymour sat in her chair at the table, reading through the morning letters with inspecting eyes, and Adam Seymour acquired the chair next to her, reading what Oscar presumed, the same newspaper from yesterday. 

"Ah, there you are, Oscar," His mother asserted, putting the letters in her hand aside, "I'll call for breakfast now. When are you to be departing?" She rang the tiny square bell. 

Oscar pulled out a chair to his mother's left, right opposite to Adam, "After breakfast," he responded. It was much to early in the morning for him to be having full fledged conversations, so he resorted to saying as little words as he could. Oscar preferred if no one even spoke to him for about a few hours after he had woken up, just to give him time to collect himself and his composure before facing people.  

"Miss Churchill isn't down yet," Lady Seymour pointed out, after she asked the butler to bring out the food and he had nodded, spun on his heels, and left, "I suppose I must send a maid to wake her. It is not the rectory after all, for her to be sleeping in so late. Imposing on our generosity isn't proper." 

Adam Seymour hummed something, whether it was in agreement or just a reaction to something he had read in the paper, Oscar couldn't tell.  

Soon, some maids and footmen entered the hall with dishes in their hands as they placed them on the table. Toasts, sausages, eggs, it all made Oscar's stomach growl. The air in the hall became warm scented, smelling of a mixture of everything on the table and pine. The pine, was because of the numerous pine trees surrounding the manor. Every room in the Seymour Manor often smelled of pine. 

"Your aunt, Lady Charlotte Allan wrote. She's coming to visit in a week for Christmas. I am looking forward to it, everything around here has been quite dull since winter started. I have planned an array of dishes for our Christmas dinner. It shall be grand like every Christmas we've had before," Lady Seymour asserted, cutting out a smaller piece of toast with a butter knife. 

"Please tell me she's bringing her governess along," Adam probed, his cautious gaze on his mother, as he chewed slowly. 

Lady Seymour narrowed her eyes at him, "At their age, the girls are more disciplined than you both were." She cast a glance at Oscar, who sighed in turn.   

After a quiet breakfast, Oscar Seymour stood up. "Now, mother, I must be off," he announced. 

"Very well, be sure to take care," The lady of the house nodded. 

"When are you to be back?" Adam Seymour inquired. 

Oscar glanced at him, "It depends on the dilemma Lord Beresford has got at hand, I may be back tomorrow or in a few days. After all, he isn't inquiring for me at such an urgent basis for a mere round of whist and whiskey." 

"Plausible," His mother let out in agreement, "Off you go then, send a card if your stay is prolonged. One week is all that you shall get, because I want you home for Christmas."

"I will, Good bye mother," Oscar responded, and then with a small bow towards his mother and elder brother, he exited the breakfast hall and made his way to the main hall where a footman handed him his warm brown over coat and top hat. Then, all bundled up in proper gentleman's fashion of venturing out in the winter weather, he stepped outside where a carriage stood awaiting him by the gates of the Seymour manor. 

"Oh, goodness!" Lady Seymour exclaimed in apparent frustration as she rung the summoning bell again, shaking it violently until a maid came running into the breakfast hall, "Has not our guest been woken?"

"I tried knocking, my lady, the door is locked," The maid stammered, sweating at being the centre of the mistress's frustration.  

"Has she gone into hibernation? Try harder," The mistress cried, frustration replaced by anger as the maid nodded anxiously and scurried off, "Such impudence, I dare say!" Lady Seymour hushed, casting a glance towards Adam, who smiled in amusement. 

Jessie Churchill woke with a start, her ears infiltrated with the sound of heavy knocking at the door. She blinked in confusion, her mind disoriented and blank as she tried to figure the present situation. Cold, yet warm sunlight poured into the room through the thin curtains. This was not her room at the rectory, where was she? Then, as though she had been hit by a giant ball of snow, recollections of the past night flooded her. 

Immediately she got off the plush bed, scurrying to the door and threw it open, coming face to face with three maids with their hands in the air in a knocking position and their brows knitted together in worry. 

"You are awake," The maid in the center exclaimed, releasing a sigh of relief, "The mistress has been asking for you to come down, for breakfast." 

"Oh," Jessie managed, her eyes widening, "I'm so sorry, I must've overslept!" 

The maids entered the room, and it was then that Jessie noticed one of them had been carrying a day dress. "You are to be dressed and sent down, miss." 

Jessie looked at the dress, it was of a beautiful orange color, much to delicate and pretty for a day dress. As if catching her admiring the dress, one of the maids spoke, "It is from Lady Rebecca Seymour's neglected wardrobe at the manor, The mistress wants you to wear it." 

Jessie gulped, every dress she owned back at the rectory seemed dull and plain in comparison to this neglected piece. Before she had time to register anything else, the maids quickly made her wash her face and helped her groom before putting the dress on her and sending her downstairs. 

"Miss Churchill, I see you've finally decided to come down," Lady Seymour spoke, her lips set in a thin line of disapproval, as she narrowed her eyes and watched Jessie apologetically take a seat at the table. 

"I apologize, I lost track of time," Jessie let out slowly. 

"You should not, it is not the way things are done. A lady must never lose track of time,"  The lady of the house scolded, her tone laced with civil caution. 

Jessie Churchill forced a small smile, her eyes falling to her newly filled plate, "But I am not a lady, my lady." 

Lady Seymour's eyes shot toward her, slowly, but surely. Her features softened sympathetically as she observed the rector's daughter. "Perhaps not by birth, but surely you can strive to be. After all, people have the ability to change for the better, do they not?" 

Jessie wasn't sure what changing for the better meant for her. Jessie was, one of the most reliable persons she knew. She liked to think of herself as kind, appreciative, and generous. Did holding your cutlery a certain way, or dressing extravagantly for a mere walk, or holding your nose in the air when conversing with literally anyone, meant that a person had changed for the better? As she put a spoonful of sugar in her tea and noiselessly stirred it, Jessie wondered what Lady Margaret Seymour's definition for the word better even was. 

After receiving a meek smile in response, Lady Seymour continued, "I hope you discuss the matter of Lord Colston with your father when you return. I have arranged for a carriage for you after breakfast. I believe the prompt your departure, the quicker we will all come to a conclusion, shan't we? After all, an engagement in time for Christmas is an exciting ordeal is it not?" 

It wasn't the sort of statement that required a verbal response, so Jessie manged to offer a smile, fearing how uncertain it looked. There would be no need for discussion as her father would practically jump at the opportunity. Jessie knew that Lady Seymour's offer was as good accepted and she hadn't even told her father yet. She wished she had a choice, but she didn't. What was it like for other ladies, to have choices? To have options that led to different paths, to spend afternoons deciding on matters over a cup of tea and biscuits with their companions? Jessie had never known such liberties.

༺♥༻

"Ah, my friend," Lord Beresford called from the corner of the grand hall of the Wycombe house, a stately estate in the Southampton countryside. Oscar offered him a smile as he approached, handing his top hat and over coat to a servant waiting on him. 

The interior of Wycombe was much like being transported to ancient Greece, such was Lord Beresford fond of ancient greek art and portraits. Every corner was adorned with greek symbolism. The neutral colors and creams of it all almost gave one seasonal disorder, a sensation where it felt as though it were still summer, warm and inviting, despite the white landscape outside, cold and stirring. 

"Jack, I see you're still as sane as ever," Oscar mused, flashing a smirk as he nodded a prompt nod at him. 

"Hanging by a thread, my dear friend," Lord Beresford laughed, slapping his hand on Oscar's back. Although being considerable inches shorter than Oscar's tall physique, Lord Beresford was fond of using such gestures, despite how ridiculous he looked doing them, "Come, my wife and cousin are seated in the drawing room, my mother is staying at an acquaintance of her's for a few days. She was regretful of not being here to greet you, but I'm sure you certainly won't mind her absence, because I for one am glad for it." 

They laughed and he led Oscar out of the grand hall, into the drawing room beside it. Lord Beresford's short brown hair whisked as he walked, his pale hands in an embrace behind the back of his navy blue coat. He was considered handsome, but he wasn't as striking as people thought of Oscar to be. Often times, many would wonder why the two gentlemen were such close friends in the first place, but then again, the only thing they had in common was the major thing. Finding pleasure in life, despite what it threw at them. 

"Wife, dear cousin, my guest has arrived," Lord Beresford declared, approaching two seated ladies on the mint sofas of the green hued room. 

"Oscar, I'm sure you recognize my wife," He chuckled as his wife scoffed playfully. Oscar smiled and greeted her. She was a lady of fine form, with her fair, grand and plump physique with golden curls resting on top of her head in contrast. Oscar remembered being not quite so thrilled when his friend had first confessed his love for her, for she was an unconventional lady, yet her smile could warm the entire Southampton winter.  

"And this is my cousin, Lady Aramina Embry," Lord Beresford continued, and Oscar finally turned his gaze to look at the second lady. At once, the striking ginger hair caught his attention. It reminded him of Jessie Churchill, and he immediately shook the thought out of his head. 

The lady present, was beautiful. With her slender posture, and her fair skin adorning it. The more Oscar looked at her, he found clear resemblances in her features. The lady looked exactly like the rector's daughter. Her cheekbones sat high on her face, and the smile lifting her lips, it was all a mirror in his head. As though he had found himself in an alternate world where a copy of the person he had detested the most mocked him with her newfound presence.

She was dressed in a gold frock, with her delicate hands resting on her lap and her amber eyes twinkling at the new gentleman she had been introduced to. Oscar regained his composure. 

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Embry," he managed, keeping his tone levelled. 

The lady smiled, "Likewise." She lifted her hand to touch the back of her ginger head softly, "Tell me, Lord Seymour, do I remind you of someone?" 

Oscar blinked in surprise.

"Oh, come now," The lady spoke again, amusement in her tone, "I could know that look of recognition blind. Do tell me who is it that I reminded you of? I hadn't thought I should have such a look alike in Southampton, for people look at my ginger locks as though they hadn't seen such a miracle before."  

It was true, Oscar hadn't known anyone in his life to have ginger hair except for the rector's daughter. He hadn't known it could ever look so beautiful and graceful, as it looked on his present company. It was just that Jessie Churchill, to him, was perhaps the most unbearable woman that ever lived, and having come to that conclusion quite earlier in his youth, Oscar seemed to associate ginger hair with entirely that predicament. 

"Our rector's daughter, Miss Churchill has hair like yours," Oscar spoke, without thinking of how it may sound. 

She had features like yours too, and that smile, Oscar thought, but she must've stolen these things, for they look far graceful on you. 

"Oh," Lady Embry smiled in curiosity, "Then I should say she and I are the lucky ones, although she more in some regards than I." The Lady Embry cast him a mischievous glance. 

Something got caught in Oscar's throat as he coughed slightly, "I beg your pardon, Miss Churchill is but a mere acquaintance." 

"Stop scolding him, dear cousin, for I believe Lord Seymour gets more than his fair share about the lady in question at his home," Lord Beresford added, laughing as he did so.  

Oscar rolled his eyes at his friend, before he slapped him on his back, catching him by surprise. "Oscar, what say you and I go hunting in the evening?"