Without a lady relative to sponsor him, Diluc found himself writing to old friends of his father's. The Gunnhildrs had always been kind (if not solely dedicated to the Knights of Favonius and perhaps overbearingly patriotic), and he also knew the master of the house, Jean Gunnhildr, well from their days in school and at the gentleman's club, although now he would have to request a chaperone if he were to be alone together with her. This family was his best chance.
The Gunnhildrs had several things that Diluc no longer did; money and a lady of the house. Jean's mother, Frederica, no longer had a lady of her own to present to court, and thus had the time, resources, and knowledge to help him become a proper lady. Yet even if they did respond to his desperate queries with much needed assistance, this was hardly a solution.
The Gunnhildrs were no longer a highly esteemed family, having had an unfortunate scandal years back when Frederica Gunnhildr's second daughter was revealed to be sired by another man instead of her husband. While that unfortunate young lady had now taken up the veil, the impact of that unwitting scandal had never let the family truly recover even years later. Even if Jean Gunnhildr wanted to marry him out of friendship between their families and sympathy for his father, she couldn't afford his bride price, and Diluc had no intention of trapping a friend into a loveless marriage when Jean had always been such a romantic.
Instead, he merely requested for Jean's mother Frederica to take him under her wing, in respect to their families' long held friendship, and expressed his sincerest thanks for any assistance that could be rendered. When the woman wrote back and accepted, he made sure to pack her a bottle of their finest vintage, as he tentatively requested a carriage to be prepared. Normally, he would ride himself, but for this visit to be truly fruitful, he would need to stay with the Gunnhildrs for at least a week.
And this would not be the only time he impressed on their hospitality; he would need to live with them in Mondstadt until the season was up (or he found himself sleeping in his marriage bed instead). However then, his father would be just down the street, unlike the current distance stretched wide between them from the Dawn Winery to the Gunnhildr estate, so then forfeiting his place at his father's side would only sting a little, unlike how he felt now, before the season started.
"Diluc," his father said, his voice soft and raspy. Diluc looked up at his father, alarmed to see the man up out of bed and on the terrace.
"Father, you… you must return to bed at once," Diluc begged, carefully passing off the reins of his favorite mare to Elzer, who had come to see them off. As a ward of their family, Elzer had always been something of a distant friend, but this past week since Diluc formally filed a change in status before the judge, they had suddenly been unable to be alone together. Even now, the presence of other servants about the carriage was the only reason they could see each other face to face. Diluc had to be careful not to touch him for too long while doing something as innocent as passing over the reins; this was a man he had once pushed over into the mud and climbed on top of to wrestle with as children.
At least his father, he could still embrace.
Diluc grabbed his father's hands, warming them in his own, trying to press all the love and care he encompassed into those frail fingers.
"I wanted to see my boy off," Master Crepus coughed, his eyes tired but his lips smiling. "Diluc, I am so proud of you. No father could be more proud of having such a filial, hardworking, intelligent, loving son as I am."
"Father," Diluc's hands trembled. "Elzer, send for Adelinde please. She can escort you back to bed, father, so that you may rest. You shouldn't have strained yourself like this. I know it is a truth beyond truths that you love me, and I do my best to deserve it with every breath. A short trip like this shan't change a thing, and I will send letters so frequently you will tire of reading them."
His father clung even tighter, his grip startlingly strong for a man in his condition. "Diluc, I never thought I would ever have to give you away."
"I'm not to be married quite yet, father," Diluc laughed nervously, his eyes meeting Elzer's with urgency. "It won't be but a week or two before I darken our doorstep yet again!"
"Soon, you won't even call me father, but some other man's papa instead. When I feel so…" Master Crepus's words warbled with the emotion in his voice, like there was something physical in his throat that kept him from sounding like the clear, well spoken man Diluc had always known him to be. "I feel so much pain at the thought… I just want to call this whole thing off. Surely twelve billion mora can be earned?"
Not even if Diluc took up highway robbery!
His father's eyes gleamed with a strange glaze, something Diluc recognized now that he knew the signs he was looking for. It made his heart ache to think that even though it had taken everything away from him, that his father still had opium left enough to create this kind of high. It made his father's words feel just that much more wrong, like it wasn't even his father who'd mustered up the will to say them.
It was Adelinde who came to his rescue, taking his father's hands in her own with the needed force, and Diluc allowed Elzer to usher himself away as well. He couldn't help but look back, one more time, at the man his father had become, and the sorrow that filled the emptiness of his heart was too painful to bear. He turned away his head, and instead allowed Elzer to help him into the carriage.
The journey by carriage between their estates took a little more than four hours, although riding solo atop a faster horse through the forest paths could shorten that time to three and a half. Diluc had once raced Jean across these misty moors, with their thickets of briar and stoney outcrops, and relished in his victory, every time. Instead of hanging his head out the window and watching the scenery roll by, he spent the first hour reading, the next two attempting a tidbit of unfruitful rest, and the last drawing idle pictures into the mist his breath created on the window of the carriage.
Elzer called out as they approached the Gunnhildr estate, slowing the horses and allowing Diluc to glance at his temporary new residence. The snow spotted front lawn was immaculately gardened. The estate itself was undergoing slow renovations to create the very popular gothic architecture that Diluc had seen in London last year. The Dawn Winery and its accompanying mansion had maintained its older fashion untouched for the last three decades, but with the Gunnhildr family already disgraced, Jean's late father must've at some point decided to deny anything else that could be seen as a potential reason to mock them, and now they were keeping up with the style.
It looked nice. It did not, however, look like home, and that fueled the trepidation that Diluc couldn't help but feel. He stepped outside into the February mist, and felt his cheeks and nose redden against the chill.
"Miss Diluc, should I stay the carriage until tomorrow morning?" Elzer asked, as the coachman went to announce their arrival.
"No, don't bother," Diluc decided. "You may just be a ward of the family, but you have been like a son to my father. I trust him in no one else's hands but yours. Please, return swiftly, and take care of him for me."
Elzer gave him a look that plainly expressed his disapproval, but Diluc held his chin high and insisted, "He should not have to miss us both. Besides, it is most improper for you to linger here with me in our current circumstances."
"I just wish to help you," Elzer shook his head. "I would never impune your honor. Surely no one would talk, for we have grown up together, as siblings do."
Diluc slumped against the carriage, his eyes closing in frustration. "I'm afraid that does not matter. Go. It would not do for us to be seen together talking so intimately."
Elzer left him with a lingering look, before mounting the carriage and rousing the horses. He would likely stay just long enough to let them rest and drink water before beginning the journey back, which suited Diluc far better. This challenge was one he must face alone, for additional eyes, even friendly ones, only made it more difficult to keep his bearings.
It was Jean Gunnhildr who greeted him at the door, allowing him inside with a smile.
"Sir Diluc, a pleasure," She welcomed him.
"It's Miss Diluc, Sir Jean," He corrected her, although he truly did not mind her using his old title.
"Ah, of course, my apologies," She winced, before walking with him through the entrance hall to their drawing room. Large bay windows allowed it to be filled with what light the cloudy day allowed for, and fresh biscuits had been baked and set in a serving dish on the table. Jean's mother, Lady Frederica, a tall woman with a stern face, sat with her ankles crossed on the settee, awaiting him. She wore a bluebell colored gown and crystal earrings that gleamed with each sunbeam lucky enough to hit them, and delicate blonde curls framed her lined face with a sort of mature elegance.
Diluc had met Frederica Gunnhildr before, although their meetings had always been brief. A strict and demanding woman who had no difficulty speaking her mind, she had always bucked against the reigns her now-late husband had attempted to put upon her. Was it any surprise when it was discovered her second child came then, from an affair with a Cardinal named Simon Page? Despite her scandal, the woman seemed reformed into the perfect, unrelenting lady of the house she was once known to be, now that Diluc had arrived upon her doorstep.
"Ah, my pity case," Lady Frederica said, standing up to her full height. Her day gown brushed the rug with her footsteps, her very presence the perfect example of beauty and grace.
"My savior," Diluc replied in kind, dipping his head in greeting.
Jean quickly made herself absent while her mother tutted about him, examining him from side to side, in a way that very much felt like leaving himself in the hands of a hungry beast.
A hungry beast that did not spare him any of her cutting criticisms.
"Your hair is abysmal, your clothes do not befit a lady, and you have the posture of my late husband after four bottles of your vintage dandelion wine," Frederica snapped, but something in her stern voice shifted, eager, as she continued, "I'll make you the star of the debut if it kills me."
Diluc tried to muster the appropriate enthusiasm, when instead all he felt was fear.
"I have a court dress I had been saving for when my Barbara was old enough," she said without caution, slimming her hands down his sides and measuring the distance between the two. "We'd have to let out the waistband for your shape, but we can present you before the regent with the other debutants wearing that, despite the lack of time offered to us to prepare you anything else."
Diluc offered her his best smile, even if that too felt insufficient and pathetic in comparison to the relief he felt: "I owe you more than I can ever repay, Lady Gunnhildr, and this kindness will not be quickly forgotten."
"We are not so rich that I won't be keeping a record for you, Diluc," Lady Frederica patted him once on the chest, before pushing him around to examine his backside. "I know of many things that cannot be thrifted, and I shall fully expect your future husband to repay me for all of them."
Well, if someone married him, they wouldn't necessarily inherit his current debts, but if he had any kind of autonomy after his wedding, he would be sure to send the Gunnhildrs their dues.
"You shall be remunerated, Lady Gunnhildr, on my honor as a Ragnvindr," Diluc promised.
"Yes, yes, but now we're just wasting time," She motioned towards his vest and suit and demanded, "Take those off. I'll call a servant to dress you in something we already have. We have bare weeks prior to the debut, and you will take much effort. For your comfort and my reputation, perilous as it might be, we must work quickly."
Diluc slowly took off his overcoat, ignoring how a small part of his brain protested this very visceral, obvious change from the comforting familiar to… something he would have to learn to be comfortable with, he supposed. Beneath it, he unbuttoned his waistcoat, followed by a loosening of his breeches by the belt. Frederica had vacated the drawing room in search of a servant, but it wouldn't be long before she returned. He quickly finished undressing while he waited for her return, minus his small clothes, which he might as well save for later when it would surely be replaced with a pair of pantalettes.
The lady returned with a servant, whose arms were burdened with a pile of clothing so high that Diluc feared she might not be able to see overtop it. He reached out and took half the pile, revealing the girl's young and sweet face. Younger than he might've expected, with bright green eyes and short silver hair, pinned back into her bonnet with a brilliantly crimson silk rose.
"This is Noelle," Lady Frederica introduced, "and as she is merely a maid-in-training, she shall be assigned to you for the duration of your stay as my assistant in reforming you into a most proper lady."
"We brought you clothes, miss," Noelle chirped, placing the pile of things to the side so she might rummage through them. Finding a long white smock, with lace around the edges, she held it out to him. "Start with your chemise."
The muslin of the chemise was soft, almost transparent against his fingertips, but not too unlike a tunic for him not to know how to slip it over his head. The fit wasn't quite right as the sleeves slipped alarmingly off the shoulders; it was unlikely that anything he was dressed in today would be fitted correctly at all. He was just glad it erred towards too large instead of too small.
After donning the chemise, Noelle gave him a pair of stockings and helped him roll them up his legs to his mid thigh, and tied them off with ribbon garters just under the knee. On top of the stockings went the pair of pantalettes he had been hoping for, and those he fitted himself in, albeit they were slightly too long in the legs. The lack of a crotch made things feel… breezy underneath the hem of the chemise, but he had no other complaints. So far, everything was much looser than the clothes he was used to, and luxurious on the skin in their gauzy, soft white drape.
Then, Lady Frederica instructed Noelle to put him in the stays. The structured bodice had been made for a man, which was its only saving grace, for the real issue was that it was far too small around his waist and squeezed at the softness of his chest. Lacing it tight but breathable left noticeable gaps between the stays where the chemise peeked out from underneath, creating an unseemly bulge. Tightening it further would be too much for his body, and he might struggle to breathe.
"The gown overtop will be loose," The Lady Frederica rubbed at the bridge of her nose, "but this will not do in the long run. We will have to commission the tailor for your own stays when we go into town."
"I'll make a note, madam," Noelle promised.
After that, the petticoats went on, attached by straps over the shoulders to hold them up into place. One of the petticoats was a heavier wool, which weighed things down and helped with the breezy sensation between his legs. The others were silk or muslin, and just added volume around his hips.
Finally, the gown went on over his head and was laced up the back, which was made of a block print calla lily pattern and had a low cut neckline accenting its fashionable empire waistline. The upper sleeves were loose around his shoulders, but the extensions Noelle slipped up and attempted to button on into the inner lining afterward were unfortunately tight on his forearms, and so ultimately they were skipped despite the impropriety. However the rest of the dress flowed nicely and allowed for the ruffles on the silk petticoat to poke through at the hem and the lace frill of the chemise through the gown's neckline.
The full body mirror by the boudoir allowed him for just a moment to examine himself, and Diluc couldn't exactly say he hated what he saw. He didn't look like himself, as he had come to recognize his own appearance, and yet it was also somehow almost pleasing. If he had seen a lady dressed as he at a gala or a promenade, he would not think they were any belle of the ball, but he certainly wouldn't think they were hideous.
Noelle adjusted the ruffles at the back of the dress and the cuffs of the sleeves, before giving her own judgement: "I think he looks quite fetching so far!"
"Completely abysmal," Lady Frederica tutted and shook her head. "The dress will be fine enough after it is tailored, but we have much to do about the rest of him. Poorly washed hair, skin like he's had the pox, posture of a mule… the regent will mock me if I present this to his Highness."
Was he truly that bad? Perhaps she was right about his hair; he rarely gave it more than a cursory brush to make sure it was tidy as the curling texture refused any sort of taming beyond that, even with pomade. His posture too, he could ignore, since he was currently feeling slightly like a grape squeezed tight enough to burst.
But his skin?
He had never considered something might be wrong with his very skin. Diluc touched his cheek. It was smooth and soft, for he had never had any luck growing a beard, although he did have a blemish near his chin. Perhaps Lady Frederica was referring to his freckles? A lifetime of running about the hills of the winery had painted him with sunspots across his cheeks, his nose, and the rest of his entire body, but he had never considered them to be anything at all.
"There are creams and powders to smooth out such imperfections," Noelle reassured him. "Oh, when you were still a lord, they were quite handsome indeed! Us maids would liken them to constellations upon your face and wondered if we could find a sign of true love within. Nothing to be ashamed of, Lady Ragnvindr."
"Of course…" He said, his mouth tired from all of the inconsequential smiles he had been forced to try and give. Her words, intended to be reassuring, felt more like needles stabbing into his chest.
"On a lady, it indicates that you're of lower breeding, to be so careless with your appearance while roaming amuck outdoors," Lady Frederica pinched his cheeks, turning him from side to side. "Yes, we will use powders to mask their appearance so you look as pale as you ought. As for your hair… we'll figure something out. Perhaps a bonnet."
Diluc curled a loose strand of his hair around his finger, lips pursed.
She slapped him lightly on the cheek. "Don't pout. Remember what I said to you earlier. I will have you the star of the debut. Don't you trust me?"
"I trust you, madam," He worked his lips back up into a smile, even though he desperately did not want to. "Am I to wear this for the rest of the day?"
The Lady Frederica sighed and insisted, "If you truly mean to go through with this hare-brained scheme of your father's, you will wear this kind of thing for the rest of your life. However, it does you no good to wear ill-fitting stays for hours on end. After supper, you may retire to your room and Noelle will prepare your nightgown for you. In the meantime, I have a tailor to contact with some desperate rush orders."
Noelle nodded, her hand taking up Diluc's elbow. "I'll take good care of you, I promise! Now, we did prepare a guest room for your stay, and Master Jean has called upon you for tea should you like to accept, chaperoned of course."
"Then I suppose I do accept," Diluc replied, and he let himself be led by this enthusiastic young maid by the elbow.
She showed him his room, then pointed out directions to the library, of which he was informed he was free to peruse at any time, and the locations of the main drawing room, the terrace, the kitchens, and the dining room, where they would take their evening supper.
Finally, he was taken into the gardens for his tea with Master Jean.
Noelle had made the biscuits herself and was quite proud of them, as Diluc remembered from her chatter during his tour. She hovered in the distance, their silent chaperone, and also was to replenish their tea and biscuits as necessary.
As Diluc gingerly took his seat, careful with his posture so the stays would not jab into him, Jean stood to push his chair in. Something as simple as that seemed almost more absurd than the dress or the title; that his old friend Jean would be expected to push his chair in for him as a courtesy.
"How's the change of wardrobe treating you?" She asked, her eyes skimming over the pattern of the gown. "Wasn't that one of Barbara's?"
"Your mother implied she had saved this for your sister, yes," Diluc agreed. "I remember her being a slight girl, so it surprises me that it fits so loosely. It's not uncomfortable."
"My mother had hopes she'd grow into a shape more like mine," Jean's smile did not reach her eyes as she took a sip of her tea. "It looks alright on you, but I suppose I just am not used to seeing you like this, sir. For once you were slated to be my superior in the Knights of Favonius, and now you are…"
"Diminished?" Diluc knew his timbre had become unkind, harsh with his words, and he stuffed a biscuit into his mouth to avoid saying anything more.
"No! No, never diminished. There is no shame in what you have done. Now you are a member of the fairer gender, and thus must be treated as such. I must break my habit of calling you sir, and thinking of you as my greatest competition," Jean teased, and he found the heart to return her teasing with a small quick of his lips.
"When I turned down the offer to become the Cavalry Captain and left the Knights, I had already ceased to be your competition, Sir Jean."
She laughed, "So you say, but you were every lord's competition whether you knew it or not. You were impeccably handsome… our most eligible bachelor, who drew every lady's eye. Your collegiate essays were so brilliant the professors still use them as examples a year later. And of course, no one can open a bottle without your family name coming to their lips as the progenitor of Mondstadt's finest wines. Our future Marquis, unmatched and unrivaled in every possible way. At the gentleman's club, you were jokingly referred to as the uncrowned king of Mondstadt."
"Mondstadt will never crown another king, and no, I was never considered for the regency," Diluc dismissed. Mondstadt had long since been ruled by a regent, and the current regent was the young Duke Venti, who was rather recently appointed by the Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius after the retirement of the previous Regent, Marquis Dvalin. The early unexpected retirement of the last regent had left a vacancy that spawned his old nickname, but unlike what popular gossip rags liked to publish, Diluc had not been a shoe-in for the position, and he highly doubted he'd even been considered.
Marquis Dvalin had left for a rather similar situation as Diluc himself faced; the regent had fallen in love with another lord, stepped down from the regency, and married the lowly Baron Durin as Marchioness Dvalin. The scandal had been so great, everyone still complained about it behind closed doors. He'd heard they were happy together.
'The things we do for love,' Diluc thought, before looking up at Jean and remembering the tightness of her eyes at the memory of her sister.
"You mentioned Barbara earlier. How does she fare? I've not heard news of her since she began working at the Cathedral," He mentioned, setting down the teacup and meeting Jean's blue eyes with his own.
The simple matter of his acceptance, the lack of his judgement, had Jean's shoulders relaxing as she broke out into an easier smile. "I find it difficult to pretend that I detest her like I should. After all, those gossip rags publish anything they can get their hands on, and who knows if they're actually true or just elaborate jest? Besides, I care not if she is my half sister, when she never asked for the circumstances of her birth."
"Regardless, she is your sister," Diluc agreed.
"I miss her dearly and we still exchange letters when we can. She remains truly the kindest and sweetest soul to walk this earth. The life of helping others is nourishing to the spirit in a way that no ignoble gossip rag could understand. When the season begins, I shall be able to see her at the Cathedral, but I must admit I am afraid. I have not seen her in person since my father drove her out of the house, and my mother still forbids me from visiting. What if she holds contempt for our family, for our mother? What if she cannot be my sister ever again, like she once was? Will it just bring more heartache? I cannot help but feel conflicted."
Diluc took the last of the biscuits with jam, and nibbled on it as he gave thought to Jean's dilemma. "If you miss her, I believe you should see her. Isn't it more important to show those you love that they matter?"
"If either of us is allowed to speak of showing dedication of the heart, it is you, Lady Ragnvindr," Jean said. "What you are doing for your father is immeasurable. If I could assist you…"
"Master Jean," Diluc interrupted her, "I would never want to marry you, and I never want to hear you suggest it. Would that not be frightfully unfair to a certain Lady Minci, whose hand you sought to court all last season whilst she finished her university coursework and thus was far too busy for romance?"
The color his words put on Jean's face brought him great joy, since she almost looked like an apple. He finished his biscuit with a smug smirk and washed it down with a swig of tea, enjoying her stunned silence all the while.
"Wha-- I-- Sir, I never --!" Jean stammered. "You didn't say anything to her, did you? She must never find out. Sir Diluc, I cannot believe you said that out loud! In front of… oh, Noelle, Miss Noelle, you simply must keep our little chat here between the three of us!"
Noelle pressed a finger to her lips and promised with a barely concealed grin, "As wine bottles are corked, so too are my lips sealed. You shall never hear me speak a word of it."
" I have remained and will continue to stay mum on the subject like a true gentleman, no matter how much it pains me to watch you pine for her in silence," Diluc set down his teacup with his pinky out, feeling rather giddy himself. "However I know for certain that Lady Minci is now a proud graduate of Mondstadt's premier university, and thus should join the marriage market this year alongside me. Barbatos forbid any of her suitors, say, give out unwanted marriage proposals made purely out of pity towards any misfortunate childhood friends. Such a matter might displease Lady Minci to learn about."
"Alright, you have made your opinion known, and I shall never bring up the subject again," Jean was still blushing into her biscuits. "However, that does not mean I am not willing to protect you where your father cannot, as a temporary guest of our household. Sir… ah, Miss Diluc, neither my mother nor I are willing to let you into a marriage purely for another's jest. We will see you marry for more than just your bride price, I swear it."
"You hold more optimism in my future than I do, Sir Jean," Diluc answered, "although I suppose I must hold you to it, for that is the future I most would like to see come to fruition."
"It is not optimism when I have the courage and wherewithal to see it through," Jean declared as she raised her teacup to him in a toast. "Your future is not so bleak as you make it sound. A toast, to our friendship, and your future marriage, which shall certainly and only be to a wealthy and loving husband who will treat you with the respect and care you deserve."
"To our friendship," Diluc echoed, his cup clinking against hers. "To Jean's impossible dreams, and the miracles she will attempt to make them come true."
Notes:
A quick note to terms here, since I pulled all of this out of my ass!
Lord: the more 'masculine' uh, secondary gender
Lady: the more 'feminine' secondary gender
Sir: used in front of names usually in a friendly manner. ex: Sir Jean -> friendly. Lord Gunnhildr -> formal
Miss: same as sir but if the lady is unmarried. ex: Miss Diluc -> friendly. Lady Ragnvinder -> formal.
Madam: same as miss but if the lady is married. ex: Madam Frederica -> friendly. Lady Gunnhildr -> formal.
The most