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andorology · 22 days ago

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Sanguinity: Chapter 2 a rebelcaptain regency au

While her resistance to its being sold away had softened within the last fortnight, Jyn’s cautious apprehension of the property’s new owner, Cassian Andor, still stood steadfast. It alarmed her that she still did not know much about him. She conceded to her father’s judgment in choosing him, of course, but if he were to be their new neighbor, she felt her concern to be not at all unreasonable.

After having asked the more pertinent questions on the details of the business, she finally asked, “So Papa, Mr. Andor—are we to meet him soon?”

____

In the wake of the life-changing news about her family's situation, Jyn Erso copes through her studies. She inquires about the new owner of the Lah'mu estate, Cassian Andor, only to find nothing significant—that is, until a visit in town bodes an unexpected meeting.

(or: Jyn meets an Andor, though not the one she's expecting)

Read Chapter 2 of Sanguinity below the cut, or read it on ao3.

Jyn, in response to the tumultuous emotions brought about by the recent events that befell her family, had since then turned to dedicating most of her time to her studies. She thought it would be a good distraction, and not to mention an opportunity for her to finally get into botany, a subject which she had been, for a time now, nursing an enthusiasm for.

In addition to poring through stacks of books and encyclopedias on plant species, behaviors, and, histories, she had also begun a journal for her annotations and sketches, filling the pages at a rapid speed that at the end of each day, she would have achieved filling more or less twenty pages.

Whenever she went on her daily walks, she always made sure to stop by trees and plant bushes, collecting fresh flowers and leaves, which she would, when she got home, begin to dry and press. These easily became her favorite additions to her journal. Day in and day out, the sickly smells of various English flora would fill her bedchamber, sometimes even becoming so sickly that it gave her a headache.

When it reached that point, she would go out riding. Though she did not always do it, she would always find herself unable to stop for respite, even during the hottest hour, and despite the aching muscles in her back and limbs signaling for rest. Vallt Park’s winds soothed her too much to resign from them, and she felt a liberating sense of space and movement in riding her mare through the fields at great speed.

These had been most of Jyn’s days, and she loved every second of them.

The distracting effects these endeavors had on her did not last long, however, for indeed as Mr. Erso had expected, the negotiations surrounding the matter of Lah’mu Hall’s trade proceeded quickly.

In no time, just two weeks after their discussion at breakfast, everything was settled. Their life changing was no longer an imagined future—it was becoming material, becoming real.

Jyn had just walked back from the stables when Mr. Erso, meeting her in the courtyard, gave confirmation of this final development. “All the papers have been signed,” he divulged to her as they entered the house together, arm in arm. “They should be moving in within the next few days.”

“So it’s finally happened,” Jyn remarked. “I am glad things went smoothly, Papa.”

Mr. Erso looked down at her as though she had just told him a joke. “You are taking this surprisingly well.”

Jyn smirked. “Well, while I still mourn the loss of my childhood home, I am also now beginning to view it without such a reticence, especially since it was in exchange of a very important monetary gain for the family.”

Mr. Erso quietly mused at this statement. “And does this outlook extend to the matter of your marrying? I should hope that you are warmer now to the idea.”

Jyn looked up at her father and gave him a teasing brow. “With you and Mama’s endless sermons on the advantages of it for the last two weeks?”

Mr. Erso smiled, slightly embarrassed, though Jyn knew he was not really sorry for it.

“But you would be glad to hear,” she continued, “that they are not entirely ineffective. If marrying will serve the benefit of preserving my current comforts, and more importantly the continuance of my endeavors, then I suppose I shall do it.”

Mr. Erso nodded approvingly. “That is a most welcome thing to hear from you, Jyn. I am grateful.”

“At the end of the day, I trust you and Mama's advice too much to not heed it. Which is why,” she added earnestly, “Papa, I also trust that we shall emerge through issue with the farms in victory.”

Mr. Erso did not speak for some time, reflecting on the remark. “You certainly are sanguine about the success of what we are about to do, Jyn.”

Jyn looked at him funny, as though it was obvious. “With you and Mama at the helm, I do not doubt it.”

Her father stopped in his tracks, which surprised her. Then, gently, but also more seriously, he told her, “Look, it is well and all that you should have so much faith in us. But Jyn, the fact that we are asking you to marry may be a sign that this has a possibility of not ending well.”

Frowning, Jyn asked, “Do you not think I should believe in it?”

Mr. Erso shook his head. “That is not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying, Papa?” Jyn sounded genuinely confused.

Mr. Erso sighed. “I’m saying, sanguinity is an admirable sensibility, yes. But sometimes, it has its place. I know we have been lucky for most of our lives, Jyn, but that luck runs out even for those who have had an abundance of it.”

To this Jyn did not know how to respond. She also felt the mild injury of having been corrected for her optimistic sentiment on their current predicament, but a part of her knew that perhaps, her father was also right.

For a while both of them did not speak. Feeling the weight of her father’s gaze upon her, she looked wistfully ahead. They proceeded to walk in silence until they finally reached the door.

She took a deep breath, and on a lighter note said, “Anyways, I shall miss Lah’mu Hall.”

“We all shall,” her father replied, squeezing her hand on his arm.

After having asked the more pertinent questions on the details of the business, she finally asked, “So Papa, Mr. Andor—are we to meet him soon?”

“Settling into the house might take a while,” he explained, “with so little crew at his disposal. He says he does not know for certain when he would call on us, but he has committed to its being done, so we are assured of it happening at some point.”

Jyn frowned. “I see. Did he say anything else?”

Her father hummed in thought. “Nothing much of note. He’s rather frugal in conversation.”

This Cassian Andor was giving Jyn nothing, and it was beginning to frustrate her.

“Except,” Mr. Erso mildly exclaimed in sudden recollection, which perked Jyn to eager curiosity, “he did say that he’s looking forward to it. He says he wishes to properly meet you and your mother.”

Jyn groaned quietly. “Anyone in his position would say that, Papa. That does not say anything about him at all. Calling on us is just common courtesy, especially because we had just given him a new estate.”

Her father smiled. “But it does say something, Jyn. It tells us that he is a man who has common courtesy.”

Jyn looked up amusingly at her father. “Shall we throw a parade for him, then?”

At that her father laughed heartily, which soon infected Jyn herself. For a short while they shared in this small joy, which she was glad for, knowing full well that ahead of him lay the risk and uncertainty of dealing with the farms. And for Jyn, there was marriage she had to prepare herself for.

“As I have already said once,” said her father after they had quieted down, “I think you will like Mr. Andor.”

“What makes you sure of that?” Jyn asked. “And for you to say it twice, too.”

“Well, I have, for all my life, been in business with all sorts of men. Eventually I’ve honed the ability to sense their disposition even before they speak.”

“Incredibly lucky for Mr. Andor, then. For it would seem that he does not speak much at all.”

Her father laughed again. He planted a kiss on his daughter’s head before heading up the stairs. “I will see you at dinner, Jyn.”

Now alone in the hall, Jyn found herself looking out the closest window. She knew that just beyond the horizon, Lah’mu Hall stood. It would hopefully go on enduring for many years, now that it had its new master. She thought about Mr. Andor for a short while, wondering what he was like, before she ascended the stairs herself, and returned to her studies.

As the date of the Rook ball was fast approaching, Jyn finally found the self-restraint to break free from her preoccupations and go out to the modiste, where she had fitted for a new dress about a week prior, and which was now ready.

Accompanied by her chaperone, she walked the distance between Vallt Park and the town. There, shops of various trades were gathered together, and with the day already well into the middle of the morning, a thick crowd had already populated the streets, all rushing to their own businesses and affairs.

Since she was there anyway, Jyn decided to first take a quick detour to the press shop. There she perused through the day’s pamphlets, hoping to find anything that related to her current botanical interest—but found, to her great dismay, no such paraphernalia. She would note this absence, and go on thinking about it regretfully for a while.

She settled on purchasing a pamphlet on something somewhat adjacent, flower arranging, which did not really do much to satisfy her disappointment.

She finally stepped out, walked across the street, and turned around the next corner to head to the primary point of her errand.

The modiste’s building was a small, two-story establishment with glass windows that displayed various fashions. As she pushed on its door, the bell rang daintily, echoing damply against the shop’s walls inside. The air smelled of unwashed fabric and perfume, with mannequins donning both finished and unfinished couture standing around the room.

She found that there was nobody there but her. “Hello?” she called out.

From behind the doorway appeared the modiste, Mrs. Finchley, a middle-aged woman with a volume of curly hair. She welcomed Jyn with a smile. “Ah, Miss Erso!” she exclaimed. “How lovely to see you. You are here to pick up your new dress finally, yes?”

“Sorry for not having claimed it sooner, Mrs. Finchley. I have been preoccupied.”

The modiste teasingly raised a brow. “What is it this time?”

Jyn gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Plants.”

The modiste smiled and nodded. “I see. Well, please give me a moment. I shall fetch you your dress.” She then disappeared into a backroom.

While Jyn waited, she passed the time looking closer at the shelves of fabric rolls, feeling and rubbing the tabs of samples between her fingers. By the corner, she lightly ruffled through a display of hanging ribbons, then inspected the trays of floral ornaments she assumed were to be sewn onto hats.

As she was checking out a rose ornament against her head in front of a small mirror, the shop’s door opened from behind her.

It gave way to a lady about her age, perhaps just a year or two younger. In the mirror’s reflection, Jyn observed her features—dark hair, light bronze skin, and an overall pretty countenance. Her clothing looked plain, but judging from its clean tailoring and the sheen of its smooth silk, Jyn suspected it was an expensive one. She guessed the girl to be a genteel lady, at least from the poised and graceful way she carried herself.

She watched as the lady looked hesitant while going round the shop, clearly indicating that it was her first time there; whatever it was she looked for, she could not seem to find it.

Another merchant of the shop, the modiste’s assistant, appeared. “Welcome!” she said to the lady. “Are you here to fit for a dress?”

“Oh no,” the lady said, smiling, “I am only here to look for a reticule. I was wondering where you might have a collection of it?”

“Our hats and purses are in the showroom. I’d be happy to show them to you, if you would kindly follow me, Miss…”

“Andor,” the lady supplied. “Miss Andor.”

As if lightning struck her body, Jyn suddenly tensed and quickly spun on her heel. She regarded the lady again, registering her appearance anew in light of discovering her name.

Before the lady, Miss Andor, disappeared with the modiste’s assistant into the show area, Jyn’s curiosity finally got the best of her. In a split second she made the decision to call out, “Excuse me, Miss Andor?”

The lady stopped and looked at Jyn, half confused, half curious. “Yes?”

“Forgive me,” Jyn said uncertainly, “but I overheard your name and cannot help but wonder. Are you, in any way, associated to a Mr. Cassian Andor, the solicitor who just moved into the village?”

Miss Andor, though wary, smiled kindly. “I would say I am more than associated to him, really. I am related to him; I am his younger sister, Kerri.”

Her eyes wide, Jyn registered this revelation with fascination.

Where she had thought previously that she did not know anything about the new landowner of Lah’mu, it would seem that she had no idea how much she did not know. A sister! How come her father never mentioned a sister? Then it instantly dawned on her; come to think of it, Mr. Erso had always said “they” whenever he referred to him. Her folly, she supposed, was in assuming he only meant Mr. Andor himself and his staff.

“A sister,” she said, amazed. “I did not know he had a sister.”

“I’m sorry," replied Kerri, "but do you know my brother?”

A chuckle escaped Jyn’s mouth. “No, I do not, really. In fact I have not even met him. I’ve only heard of him from my father.”

Miss Andor shook her head in bewilderment. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Oh!” Jyn exclaimed. “Forgive me, I’m being rude. I have not introduced myself: I am Jyn Erso. My father is the landowner from whom your brother just bought the Lah’mu estate.”

Kerri’s face took an instant transformation from confused caution, to total relief and delight. “Mr. Galen Erso, yes!” Then with a look of wonder she exclaimed, “You’re Miss Erso!”

Jyn nodded. “Yes, that would be me.”

Kerri squealed. “Goodness, we finally met! I heard of you from my brother—he has mentioned you a couple of times.”

Jyn was quite taken aback as she processed this fact. “He has?”

Kerri nodded. “Yes. He was rather curious about you, too—especially because of what Mr. Erso has told him of you.”

“Is he now?” She was even more taken aback. “It would seem my reputation has preceded me. Whatever did my father say?”

“He told him of your pursuits for self-education,” Kerri answered, “which, if I may say so myself, and upon your solicitude of course, is something I personally admire.”

At that, Jyn could not resist a smile; she always welcomed any approbation to her pursuits, even though, regardless of whether it was given or not, it was something she did not need.

“I imagine some others do not regard it as you do,” she said. “But I hope my father did not say anything else to your brother that I did not know about.”

Kerri shook her head. “No. That was all he knew of you, really.”

Jyn could almost laugh, not at all unaware of the irony of it; it would seem that everything she knew of Cassian Andor, and everything he knew of her, were only what her father had said of both of them. But she supposed, if Cassian Andor did not know much about her, then she would be all right with not having known anything about him in return—at least not until they met.

“Miss Erso, I cannot tell you enough how glad I am to finally meet you,” Kerri expressed. “Because you see, I don't really know anyone here, or where things are supposed to be (in fact, I had gotten a bit lost on the way here). So I have since hoped that we could get to know each other, and maybe even become friends.”

Where Jyn’s curiosities had only been previously affixed on the character of Cassian Andor, upon finding out now that he had a sister, she found herself growing just as eager to know more about her too. And because her disposition came off as undoubtedly sincere and cheerful, the only natural course for Jyn to take now was to like her.

She smiled. “Of course. I am not one to turn down a chance of making new companions. And besides,” she added cheekily, “I am in dire want of interesting conversation.”

Kerri chuckled. “I hope to be equal to it, since I am sure you are very knowledgeable about various subjects. I confess I do not take particular interest in arithmetics and sciences, but if you are particularly predisposed to discussions of art, then I am all ears. I do love to paint. I find it soothing.”

Receiving this new information about Kerri warmly, Jyn was even more assured now of their potential friendship.

“Miss Andor,” she intoned, “that alone already makes you superior to most men I have talked to; they barely bother to scratch the surface of compliments and pleasantries. They assume we have nothing to talk about that is worthy of their male proclivities. Well, either that, or they just do not know how to converse with women. Unfortunately, it is both sometimes.”

Kerri laughed again. “Well then, perhaps, when you find the time soon, you can visit us at Lah’mu, and I can show you my paintings.”

Jyn briefly paused to reflect, slightly hesitating on the offer. “I admit it will feel strange to walk those halls now,” she said, “but I would absolutely be delighted to see your work.”

A grin formed on Kerri’s face—and then, to Jyn’s surprise, it suddenly changed to regret. “But ah,” she said dolefully, “we are still in the process of settling in, so it might not be until next week before we can welcome visitors, or call on anyone.”

Jyn nodded. “Yes, as I have heard.”

“But are you at least to attend this Friday’s ball? Mr. Rook sent us a last-minute invitation yesterday, and we thought it wise to go so we could begin our acquaintance with the village.”

“Well then,” Jyn said, her face lighting up, “you might be glad to know that Mr. Rook himself has appointed me consultant to planning it, so I am by extension, also its host—which means that I will be there, from start to finish.”

“Now I am much more looking forward to it than I have already been!”

Kerri’s enthusiasm infused a lightness to Jyn’s spirits, but then the recollection of the ball’s importance with regards to progressing her friendship with Philip suddenly entered her mind. Her feelings took on a pensive turn, something which she concealed from her new acquaintance.

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “I too am looking forward to it.”

It was then when Mrs. Finchley finally returned from the backroom, holding a large striped box. “Your dress, Miss Erso.”

“Speaking of,” Jyn said, receiving the box, “here goes my dress for the occasion.”

“Funny,” Kerri remarked, “I am here to pick a reticule as an accessory to mine.” She then straightened her frock then nodded. “I shall see you on Friday, Miss Erso.”

Jyn nodded.

“And you shall finally meet my brother,” Kerri added when she was finally in the doorway to the showroom. “I’m rather excited, for I think you will like him very much. I know I do. Until then!”

Without much else to do, and eager to take a ride on such a fine day, Jyn finally left town to head back home. As she walked, she reflected upon her conversation with Kerri. Notwithstanding that it had revealed her pleasantness, it had also, to her surprise, produced yet another assurance of Cassian Andor’s agreeableness.

Though Jyn still did not know him, she could not deny that there was merit to be acknowledged in having his character vouched for twice, first by her father, and now by his own relation.

When she would meet him on Friday, perhaps a third assurance, which would now come from herself, would be the charm to manifest it true. She remained wary as one stranger would be of another, but she was less doubtful now of their acquaintance.

Besides, she very much liked his sister; what were the chances of her brother being any different?

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