She payed no mind to Verity's words apart from an inward sigh of disappointment. She could not expect everyone to feel the same way she did, but surely her sister did not see their dresses as merely an unfortunate social obligation? It wasn't as if they were mourning a distant uncle or aunt—this was their father. Grace had no intention to linger in sadness for the rest of her youth, but she did not think the return to everyday life should be an emotionless affair. (Then again, Verity rarely shared her priorities no matter how dearly Grace loved her.)
"I shall take comfort in your excitement, then," she responded with a hint of sarcasm, glancing up at her sister as she passed her on the way to the piano bench before her eyes fell on her brother once more. They would have plenty of practice indeed, but it would all be in vain; everyone knew, from her old schoolmates to her professors and even her siblings, that Grace could practice all day and still underperform when it came time to put her skills to the test. It had always been that way, not matter whether the subject was Charms or conversation.
Ford would be all too eager to show them off once they did not look so grim; he'd been speaking of their marital prospects for long enough now. She could not imagine what difference a color would make apart from helping her look a less ghastly pale. Any pretty green could brighten her eyes, and any lace trim on her dress sleeves could accentuate the length of her fingers, but mourning was a mindset, and Grace was not sure she would be ready to emerge from her shell when they awoke the next day.
"Maybe we ought to attend the holiday festival they're hosting in Hogsmeade later this month. Not the season, but plenty of time to show off our new dresses?" There would be new dresses, right?
"I shall take comfort in your excitement, then," she responded with a hint of sarcasm, glancing up at her sister as she passed her on the way to the piano bench before her eyes fell on her brother once more. They would have plenty of practice indeed, but it would all be in vain; everyone knew, from her old schoolmates to her professors and even her siblings, that Grace could practice all day and still underperform when it came time to put her skills to the test. It had always been that way, not matter whether the subject was Charms or conversation.
Ford would be all too eager to show them off once they did not look so grim; he'd been speaking of their marital prospects for long enough now. She could not imagine what difference a color would make apart from helping her look a less ghastly pale. Any pretty green could brighten her eyes, and any lace trim on her dress sleeves could accentuate the length of her fingers, but mourning was a mindset, and Grace was not sure she would be ready to emerge from her shell when they awoke the next day.
"Maybe we ought to attend the holiday festival they're hosting in Hogsmeade later this month. Not the season, but plenty of time to show off our new dresses?" There would be new dresses, right?
