Chapter Text
Norland Park was undeniably one of the premier estates in the fair county of Sussex, situated as it was just to the east of the small market town of Rotherbury. For the past twenty-nine years it had been the property of Lord Charles Dashwood, who as our story begins is making the short trip between the great house and the nearby church. Unfortunately – from his point of view – he is doing it from inside an oak coffin.
That a beta like Charles ('Chuck' as he had preferred to be called, to the amusement and/or bafflement of the locals) had succeeded at all was, it should be said, a triumph against the odds, for Norland was one of those estates that was preference-entailed, which is lawyer-speak for a title which passes to alphas before betas, and after his birth his father and mother had proceeded to have eleven more children. But Charles had managed to beat the odds; not one of his siblings was an alpha, which meant that in the year 1780 he became the new Lord Dashwood.
Lord Charles' efforts to secure his bloodline had met with what might charitably be called mixed results. When he was nineteen he had married one Miss Tessa McKeon, an Irish gentlewoman worth some five thousand. It was a happy match even though the new Lady Dashwood was unable to have children, but sadly she died in the fierce winter of 'Seventy-Two.
The nobleman's second venture into matrimony had occurred just over a year after his first wife's death, and was with one Miss April Roper, a local woman from Selsey with less than a thousand to her name. What she lacked in wealth she lacked even more in any sense of decorum; the marriage did produce a son and heir – an alpha whom they named Raphael – but was stormy and tempestuous, which ill-suited the nobleman's generally passive nature. Few were surprised when Lady April eloped with a handsome army colonel, and they sailed for the Americas only for their ship to founder in a storm with the loss of all hands.
Few thought that, with an alpha heir to his name, Lord Charles would venture onto the stormy seas of matrimony a third time, but after twelve years of being single he was visited by a friend of his first wife, a Miss Rebecca Rosen, and the two bonded over a common interest in writing truly dreadful stories. After only a few months they were married; the new Lady Dashwood was a complete bird-brain, yet somehow her nature complimented that of her husband, and they were very happy together. There was one rocky spell for much of the first year of the marriage when it was feared that Lord Charles was suffering from a similar madness to that affecting the poor king, but after a twelvemonth of worry he recovered, and his wife subsequently bore three sons, all omegas; Castiel (born 1789), Gabriel (born 1793) and Samandriel (born 1795). As the intelligent reader will have already worked out, Lord Charles had a strong passion for angel lore.
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In that fateful year of Seventeen Hundred and Ninety-Two, young Lord Raphael was presented just after his eighteenth birthday, by which time it was clear that the alpha heir took more after his awful mother than his steady if boring father. In particular he was a selfish boy, and as they grew up he was often disdainful towards his omega step-brothers (though he was careful not to so be when his step-mother was around, as she was possessed of a mean right hook that she was not afraid to use). The young man's attitude had become a source of growing anxiety to his father, who knew that given the age difference – the third Lady Dashwood was fifteen years her husband's junior - it would almost certainly fall to his son to provide for her and her children one day.
That same year young Lord Raphael met the female – I shall refrain from using the term 'lady', as I do not wish to stretch the noble English language that far – who would shortly become his wife. Miss Lilith Ferrers was from a noted Devonshire family of whom we will shortly be hearing more of, and following the death of her parents whilst she was still but an infant, had been raised by her aunt Mary and uncle John who had two children of her own, Dean (five) and Samuel (one). One can only presume that these boys must have committed some truly atrocious act in a previous life to merit such an addition to their family. The Ferrers family had come to London for her presentation, and she had left with a future husband, to the surprise of everyone (including the future husband). It might be said that the future Lady Dashwood had her good points, but one would have to be crossing one's fingers whilst saying it. And one's toes, for that matter.
The newly-weds were soon blest, if that is the correct term, with a son whom, following the family naming practices, they named Uriel. It was however an extremely difficult birth, and the doctors advised the couple that trying for any more children could lead to disaster (an uncharitable person might say at this point that the doctors were sparing the human race here, but your author could not possibly comment!). Raphael and Lilith therefore lavished all their care and attention on their beta son, who grew up, I am sorry to say, very much in his parents' image. Sometimes breeding has a lot to answer for.
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It would be cruel of me to remark that the new Lady Dashwood was through the door and measuring for new curtains before the funeral was over, so I will not say that. In truth it was actually carpets; the curtains were done a week later. Before dying, Lord Charles had extracted a promise from his eldest son that he would provide suitable endowments for her and her three sons but, human nature being what it is, Lady Lilith had within days of moving into the great house 'persuaded' her husband (reader, you so do not wish me to go into details at this point!) that the definition of 'suitable' could be considerably reduced. Mrs. Rebecca Dashwood moved with her sons into Norland Lodge, a small cottage on the eastern side of the estate, where if straitened she was at least tolerably happy, as she had never been overly fond of the great house. And she was the envy of all her former servants, living beyond screeching distance of the new 'Lady' of the Manor.
It should be said at this point that Lady Lilith would have been perfectly happy to see her husband's step-brothers totally disinherited, but although her husband had many failings (which would need a whole chapter to elucidate), he was an absolute martinet when it came to 'doing things by the book'. That meant that, for an estate the size of Norland, society at large would have frowned mightily on them both had he endowed each of his omega kin with anything less than a thousand pounds, something he could easily afford to do. This left Lady Lilith in a dilemma; she would have begrudged the boys even a penny from Her estate, but she feared the social exclusion that would surely follow if the runts were not adequately provided for. Besides, who then would see and be jealous of all her nice new dresses?
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As the omega Dashwoods (and one of them in particular) form the focus of our story, let us take a closer look at them.
Castiel, the eldest, was nineteen years of age at the start of our story. His most stunning attribute was a pair of startling blue eyes, though this was usually overshadowed by his hair, which seemed to have developed an allergy to any and all attempts to brush it into submission. Of the four Dashwoods at Norland Lodge he was far and away the most learned and sensible, and also the cause of some concern for his mother, as she fretted that an omega his age ought to be out in society where he could catch the eye of a suitable alpha or beta. Castiel was surprisingly strong for an omega, and did most if not all of the physical tasks that needed doing around the cottage. He knew how to take care of himself, as more than one over-eager local alpha or beta had found out the hard way.
Very different was his younger brother Gabriel, some fifteen years of age who, sad to say, had apparently inherited his intellectual capacity from his dear mama (ahem!). His tastes, such as they were, ran more to romantic literature than the sombre studies of his elder brother, and he also had a regrettable tendency towards practical jokes, though less so in recent times against his family. Particularly after the incident with his elder brother, a paint brush, a hard chair and some very strong glue.
The youngest Dashwood was Samandriel (commonly called Alfie, the abbreviation of his middle name), who at thirteen was taller than Gabriel but in the coltish way that teenage youth so often has that made him rather insubstantial. Fortunately he looked up to his eldest rather than his middle brother, and showed some promise that he might not be a total disappointment to their mama.
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Tensions between the Mrs. Dashwoods came to a head over an incident that occurred in March, just over a month after the funeral. It arose out of a lie but, as so often happens, it suited one party to pretend otherwise.
The eminently unlikeable Uriel Dashwood, then a little way short of his sixteenth birthday, was occasionally employed as as errand-boy for his mother and father, more often than not against the lazy little tike's wishes. On this particular day his mother had sent him into Rotherbury to fetch some linen she had ordered from a shop there, and the boy had tarried on his errand. Almost fatally so as events transpired; he had been caught in a sudden torrential downpour and arrived home shivering, and had then rapidly proceeded to develop a severe cold. To excuse his tardiness the boy had lied and claimed that he had sought shelter at Norland Lodge, but even though he could see that one of the boys was there, they had not let him in. Lady Lilith was furious, as her poor husband soon found out.
Lord Raphael, even though he was not the brightest button in the box (the English language is groaning under the strain of that remark), could see at once that his son was lying, primarily because the Lodge lay to the north-east of the house, almost directly opposite the road to Rotherbury. But his wife would let him have no peace until he Did Something, which for the sake of his ears and sanity meant that something had to be done. He therefore wrote off a private letter to a man he thought might be in a position to help.
Ten days later, a letter arrived for Mrs. Dashwood at the Lodge. She was surprised to see that it was from Sir Robert Middleton, a rich landowner in north-east Devonshire, whose first marriage had been to her first cousin, Miss Caroline Rosen. This nobleman had been down with the winter flu in recent weeks, and having just recovered had written to ask how she was doing after her husband's passing. And importantly, he extended an offer that if her circumstances were at all straitened, then he had a sizeable cottage on his estate that was at her disposal, and he would be delighted to let her and her sons live there.
Although she had the sympathy of most of the people on the estate – in the words of one, the new Lady Dashwood was about as popular as the Black Death – Mrs. Dashwood at once recognized the benefits of such a move, especially for her family. The Middleton connection would greatly improve her sons' chances of attracting suitable (rich) husbands, as well as the place being a commendable one hundred and fifty miles from a certain shrill harpy. She wrote back that very day to accept. The only slight hitch was that the cottage was in poor condition, and Sir Robert estimated that it would take at least a month to make it suitable for Mrs. Dashwood and her family. Still, at least that would give them plenty of time to prepare for the move. And an additional advantage was that Lady Lilith's cousin, Mr. Dean Ferrers, had been one of the former tenants and was currently in London, and would (if Sir Robert's letter caught him in time) call in on his way home to tell them more about the place. It seemed too good to be true.
Ah........
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