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chasholidays · 6 years ago

Note

Hi! Thanks for doing this again, I hope you have a fun time with it!!!

Set in the same universe as this fill, bc they worked together and why not?

Quite by accident, and without putting any deliberate effort in whatsoever, John Murphy becomes an upstanding citizen who is considered a good prospect for marriage by respectable parents all over the town, which is so unthinkable that he doesn’t even realize it’s happening until it’s too late.

Murphy has always been fortune-adjacent without ever being particularly fortunate himself. His parents worked for Lord Jacob and Lady Abigail Griffin, who had been excellent employers, but they were, at the end of the day, employers. When Murphy’s parents died, they didn’t turn him out, but they weren’t his new family. He just started working for them.

But he and Clarke had always gotten along. She was a year younger than he was, bright and shrewd, and without any other children her age to play with, she was happy to spend time with him.

When she befriended Bellamy Blake, humble tailor, Murphy had known something was going on, but he didn’t mention it. When Bellamy suddenly became much less humble, Clarke recommended he hire Murphy, and that was when Murphy’s fortune began to take off. As Bellamy’s first employee and business manager, he’s not on the same level of wealth as Clarke, or even Bellamy himself, but he’s much better off than he ever expected to be.

Which is why he is, somehow, one of the most eligible bachelors in town.

“I didn’t know the town was that desperate,” he tells Clarke, dry, when she informs him of this fact.

“Bellamy’s a good connection now,” she points out. “He’s my husband, you’re his right-hand man. Getting close to you would get a family close to us, and all of our stars are on the rise.”

“Great. You couldn’t have thought of that before you got married?”

She rolls her eyes. “So, I shouldn’t have married the man I love to keep you from becoming richer and more successful?”

When she puts it like that, he does sound kind of unreasonable. “I don’t want anyone trying to marry me.”

“No?”

“What, I’m supposed to?”

“Plenty of men want to get married. And you’d have your pick of rich wives who could help you rise in society, if you wanted. More options are always good,” she adds.

“Yeah, because you had your choice of every rich guy in the country and went with a tailor you found on the street.”

She knows him well enough to not take it as a slight against herself or her husband. Bellamy is a tailor she found on the street. That’s part of his appeal. “I looked at every rich guy in the country and realized I didn’t want any of them.”

“Romantic.”

“If you don’t want to marry, don’t marry,” she says, with a fluid shrug of her shoulders. “But think about what you might want in a wife and let me know. I’ll see if I can find it for you.”

“So what, now that you’re settled, you think it’s time to get me married?”

She starts counting off on her fingers. “I’m married, Bellamy’s married, Raven’s married, Miller and Monty are settled. You’re the last person on my list.”

“Lucky me.” But she’s coming from a good place, and it’s not as if she’s wrong. If he wants to marry, now is the time, before Clarke and Bellamy screw up and get disowned or something. If he plays his cards right, he could be set for life.

It’s just that Murphy’s never been that sold on marriage, as a general concept. He gets the advantages, especially for men, having someone to take care of the house and manage daily affairs, but he doesn’t need that. He can manage his own affairs, and if he wants a housekeeper, he’ll hire one. He doesn’t want children, and he’s not longing for companionship, romantic, sexual, or otherwise.

“No one’s going to trap me into a compromising position and marry me, right?” he asks.

Clarke pauses for longer than he feels entirely comfortable with. “Not that you can’t get out of.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning if you get caught in a compromising position with someone you don’t want to marry, we can probably get you out of it.”

“You’re not blowing me away with confidence here.”

“If you get someone pregnant, there’s not a lot we can do,” she says, with the kind of flat honesty he appreciates and expects from her. “If you get caught in a broom closet with a girl, that’s fine.”

“Trust me, I’m not going to get anyone pregnant.” He sighs. “I’m not making any promises, okay? But if you find someone you think I should marry, yeah. You can let me know.”

Her smile does not inspire any kind of confidence in him that this was the right thing to say. “Perfect. I’ll keep you posted.”

“You definitely have no one to blame but yourself for this.”

Murphy takes a petulant sip of his punch, watching the crowd of people dancing and chatting with Raven and Miller. Ever since he and Clarke talked about his potential marriage, he’s been dragged to a ball every week, danced with enough young ladies he’s lost track, and is getting less and less interested in marrying anyone by the second.

“I think I can blame Clarke.”

Miller scowls, glaring at his own punch. “I’m blaming you. I don’t have enough excuses to get out of this.”

“Get in an accident,” Raven says, tapping her leg with her cane. “It’s an excuse not to dance for the rest of your life.”

“I might need one.”

“You aren’t thinking about a marriage of convenience?” she asks, sounding interested. “Clarke’s got to know someone who never wants to be with a man. You and Monty could make an arrangement with another couple.”

“Saving that for a last resort,” says Miller. “Well, right before I break my leg.”

“So what’s your excuse, Murphy?” Raven asks. “Why don’t you want to get married?”

“Why do I need an excuse? I think I need a good reason to get married, not a good reason not to. It’s a pain to get out of it.”

“Yeah, I can’t argue with that. Still, it’s not bad, if you find someone you like.”

Which really is the problem, right there. Murphy likes his friends, most of the time, but he’s not sure he likes any of them enough for the level commitment a marriage would require. And they’re the people he likes the most. You still couldn’t pay him enough to marry Clarke.

You could pay plenty of these women enough to marry him, and that’s just depressing. Murphy’s not going to be a good husband, and plenty of them must know that.

“That’s what I’m seeing,” he says, finishing his drink. “So far? I don’t like anyone.”

“Yeah, that sounds like you.”

“What would a wife for Murphy even look like?” Miller asks, sounding thoughtful. “You really think there’s some upper-class lady who would be happy with him?”

“I wasn’t really picturing him happy.”

“Gee, thanks,” says Murphy. “Why would I ever want to be happy?”

“You’re not happy now,” says Raven, not unreasonably. “If you think marriage is going to fix all your problems, you’re thinking about marriage wrong. It’s not going to change your whole life. You need to find someone who fits into your life already and makes it better, even with all you–” She looks down at the leg, which he knows still hurts her. “Realities.”

It’s a shocking amount of sentiment, especially from Raven, and it leaves both Murphy and Miller gaping. Miller recovers first. “Wow, marriage has really made you go soft.”

“Imagine what it would do to Murphy.”

Miller shudders. “Don’t make me think about it.” He drains his punch. “All right, I better dance at least one. If I see anyone good, I’ll send them your way.”

For a moment, Murphy and Raven lean against the wall in silence, but he has to ask, “You don’t really think I’m going to find someone here, do I?”

“Which part should I not think?” He cocks his head, and she clarifies, “Finding someone, or finding someone here?”

“Here. You don’t think any of these girls really want to marry me, do you? The ones looking for a fortune?”

“I wouldn’t have,” she says, sounding thoughtful. “Not before I met Clarke. But just because these girls’ parents want them to marry a rich guy, it doesn’t mean they aren’t interesting. One of them might surprise you.”

“Miller’s right, you did go soft.”

“I could still kick your ass. Soft heart, broken leg, and all.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “No question.”

“I wouldn’t take that if I were you.”

Murphy glances over, sees a woman next to him at the refreshment table, a glint in her eye as she smiles at him. It’s the glint that gets him, more than the prettiness of her features.

“Excuse me?”

She leans in, close enough that her words are private. “I tried those earlier, you should learn from my mistake.”

He laughs, surprised. There’s no one around who might be offended by their gossiping about the food, but he drops his own voice too. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Undercooked and overseasoned.”

“Thanks for the warning.” She moves down the line and he follows her, studying her as surreptitiously as he can manage. She has dark hair and dark eyes, her figure nice enough under a dress which is, to his fairly informed eye, a few seasons old and not tailored to her. She doesn’t look that much younger than he is, so she’s probably been out for a while, still looking for a husband. “Anything you can recommend?” he asks. He can be friendly.

“These hand pies are quite good,” she says, taking one. “You’re Mr. Murphy, aren’t you?”

“Just Murphy is fine. How did you know?”

“You’re the focal point of this entire event,” she says, an amused note in her voice. “Didn’t you know?”

“I was hoping I wasn’t.”

He had thought he might prefer afternoon tea to a ball, in terms of socialization exercises, and while he appreciates not being expected to dance, he’s not much for small talk either.

“Did Lady Clarke not tell you?”

“She’s selective about how she presents information.” He wets his lips. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Emori.”

“Given or surname?”

“Given. I don’t like my surname much.”

It’s an interesting statement, but he knows plenty of rich ladies who don’t like ceremony much. If she gives out her surname, people will call her that. “How do you know Lady Clarke?”

“The same way everyone does.”

“But I haven’t met you before.”

“You’re very popular. It’s hard to get your attention.”

“So you’re warning me off bad food?”

She smiles, not the typical kind of smile from a girl who wants to impress him. It’s sharper, more wry. “I consider it a public service. If you’ll excuse me.”

She ducks away with a smile, going to talk to Harper, apparently unconcerned with Murphy or anything he’s doing. It shouldn’t bother him–it’s not like he cares if she likes him–but it does nag at him. The whole encounter felt deliberate, like she was doing it on purpose, the first step in a very long plan to–

Marry him, probably. What else would she want?

That feeling alone should be enough to get her off his mind, but even knowing it was a trick, he can’t stop wondering about her. How did she know this would make him curious? Was she sure this would work on him, or did she just get lucky?

“That was a bust,” Bellamy remarks, when the gathering is done and everyone has left. “Right?” he adds, looking to Murphy.

“The food wasn’t bad. Except the scones, I heard they were undercooked.”

Clarke sighs. “It’s always something. You didn’t meet anyone?”

“What do you know about a woman named Emori?”

“Not much.” She shrugs. “An orphan, I think? But her parents left her with a decent dowry. We haven’t talked much. You liked her?”

It feels like too much of an admission, especially now. If he tells Clarke he liked her, Clarke will run with it. It’ll be a thing. Emori will probably find out, and maybe she’ll think she doesn’t have to do the rest of the steps of the plan. He’s kind of curious where it goes from here.

“She’s the one who said the scones were undercooked. So I don’t know if you want to just take her word for it.”

Clarke doesn’t look particularly fooled by the deflection, so Murphy turns his attention to Bellamy.

“Other than the food, yeah. Definitely a bust.”

Bellamy’s not buying it either, of course. They’re both too smart to swallow so lazy an excuse.

But they’re also not ready to push him. He was betting on that too.

So Bellamy says, “Definitely,” and the conversation moves on, but at the back of his mind, Murphy is still thinking about Emori, and he’s pretty sure everyone knows it.

Whatever she’s doing, it’s definitely working. Murphy can’t even be mad.

Once he’s been introduced to Emori, he can’t stop noticing her. He can’t tell if she’d always been around and he just missed her or if this really is a new thing, if she was out of town and only just returned, if she only just decided he was worth looking for. If it’s all some master plan to win him over, once she heard that conventional methods weren’t working.

And then he feels like a self-centered dick who let all this stupid eligible bachelor shit go to his head, because the world does not actually revolve around him, and Emori probably makes her decisions based on more than a long game to trick him into marriage.

“You like her,” Raven surmises.

“She doesn’t even talk to me, I barely know her.”

“So you’re offended she’s not talking to you when you’re the most important single man in the city?” Monty asks. Murphy thought he might be more sympathetic than his partner, but he doesn’t seem to think the situation is serious enough to warrant sympathy.

Then again, if Murphy wanted sympathy, he should have made friendships that weren’t based around mockery and brutal honesty.

“She did talk to me. I’m not saying it is a scheme, just that I don’t get her. Everyone knows the whole point of all this shit is to get married, and she’s not even trying, so why does she come? It’s not like it’s fun.”

“I’m not trying to get married and I keep coming,” Monty points out. “It’s so I can tell my parents I’m trying.”

“She’s barely trying. And Clarke said she was an orphan.”

“If you want to talk to her, talk to her,” says Raven. “If you’re just upset that she doesn’t seem interested enough, stop being an asshole and move on.”

“I’m not being an asshole,” he mutters, reflexive, but she is right. Raven usually is.

“I’m going to go talk to her,” Monty declares.

“What?”

“I’m curious,” he says. “Come on.”

“Why am I coming?”

“Because I don’t know who she is.”

She’s talking to Echo when they find her, wearing the same dress Murphy saw her in before. She’s still lovely, and her eye still has that glint in it that makes Murphy want to talk to her more.

It might be a good idea to just lean into it.

“Mr. Murphy,” says Emori, dropping a curtsy.

“Murphy,” says Echo, curt as always. He does like her. “Monty. What do you want?”

“I haven’t been introduced to Miss–” Monty starts, and she smiles.

“Just Emori, thank you.”

“And I’m just Monty. Echo, would you care to dance?”

She sizes him up, and then Murphy, and shrugs. “Sure, why not. Don’t step on my feet.”

Emori gives Murphy a sidelong glance. “So, it’s working?”

“What is?”

“Ignoring you.”

“I knew you were doing that on purpose!” he bursts out, and she smirks.

“Don’t let it go to your head, I ignore lots of men.”

“Because you aren’t interested in talking to them?”

“Because I’ve found men find it irritating.”

“Yeah, we deserve that.” He clears his throat. “Look, I’m not very good at this whole–social graces thing.”

“I noticed.”

“You want to dance or not?”

“Do you dance?” she asks, looking him up and down in a pointed way.

“Not very well.”

“Neither do I,” she says, uncrossing her arms to show him her left hand. It’s a little warped, a birth deformity, most likely, and he recognizes the challenge in her eyes as she watches his reaction.

“I don’t see what that has to do with dancing,” he says. “My feet are the problem.”

She lets out a very unladylike snort of laughter. “Some gentlemen don’t like holding my hand very much.”

“I’m not a gentleman,” he says. “Let’s do it.”

After he’s seen her hand and (apparently) not reacted incorrectly, Murphy starts to interact more with Emori. They dance at least one dance at every party, and he starts to see her on the street, in passing, and he’ll even call on her sometimes, when he’s in the neighborhood.

He may go out of his way to be in her neighborhood, too.

It’s not that he loves her, or even that he wants to marry her. He just still can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to her, that there’s still something he’s missing. He wants to figure her out, and he doesn’t know how.

Bellamy’s the one to finally take him aside and ask, “Have you ever actually been interested in anyone before?”

“What?”

He drums his fingers on the counter. “You keep saying you don’t want to marry her, but I’m not sure why not. You like her, you want to get to know her better, are you sure you’re not falling for her?”

“I’m suspicious of her.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “You can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Wondering what she’s really doing.”

“You’re not willing to admit that you’re interested in her, and you’re afraid she’s not interested in you. I get it, trust me,” he adds, with half a smile. “I still can’t believe Clarke wanted to marry me. And you don’t have to ask her. But you should be honest about how you feel and what you want.”

“Probably, yeah.” He scowls at nothing in particular. “I want to know more about her. Understand her.”

“What if you find out she wants to marry you?”

“I’d be kind of disappointed.”

His eyebrows go up. “Why?”

“I was hoping there was more to her than that.”

“Maybe she wants to marry you because she likes you. And if she just needs a good marriage and thinks you’d be one, would that be so bad? There’s nothing wrong with a woman wanting to make a good marriage.”

“There’s something wrong with them thinking I’m the good marriage,” Murphy snaps, and Bellamy’s expression softens.

“You could be a fine husband to someone. A fine husband to her. And maybe the fact that she’s acting how she is means she knows how to be a find wife to you too.”

“Maybe,” he says, but he can’t really bring himself to believe it.

Which means that, if he’s honest, discovering she’s stealing from him is a huge relief.

She’s been to visit him a handful of times, the same as he’s visited her. It’s always been ordinary and completely proper, and he always enjoyed having her stop by. He’d hoped he’d see more of her, but was not expecting to see her in the middle of the night when he was looking for some water.

“That’s not actually valuable,” he tells her, and she freezes, just for a second, before she straightens and smiles. She’s dressed in plain, dark clothing, trousers and a shirt, like a man might wear, with her dark hair pulled back.

As always, she’s lovely. Moreso, even. She looks so much more comfortable like this.

“No?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It looks like a family heirloom.”

“You thought my family had heirlooms? I’m starting to see what you saw in me.”

Her smile falters. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not from some rich, noble family with a long history of owning useless shit. Everything in here is mine, and I got it cheap so I could save most of my money to live on.”

“Not how the most marriageable bachelor in the town is supposed to be living,” she observes. Her tone is light, but she looks tense. Understandably so, since she was caught in his home, trying to rob him, but he’s not actually upset.

“I still don’t get it,” he admits. “You thought this was the best way to get close to me? And that I was the best person for you to try to rip off?”

“I can’t tell which one you find more offensive.”

“Not offensive, confusing. I get it,” he adds. “I was pretty sure I was going to be out on the streets after my parents died, I was ready to steal as much as I could from the Griffins before I left.”

“You’re not Lord Henry Murphy of the Polis Murphys,” says Emori, slowly.

“Who?”

She slumps back against the wall with a defeated sigh. “I heard a Murphy was making waves in the town, I knew Lord Henry had moved recently, I assumed–”

“You were trying to rob the wrong person?”

She shoots a glare at him. “How was I supposed to know you were the wrong person? You’re rich and the most eligible bachelor in town. It’s certainly not for your glowing personality.”

He laughs, and she relaxes a little. “So, your dowry isn’t as good as I’ve heard it is?”

“I have no dowry, not any family.” Her voice is too sharp. “I’m not orphaned, my parents simply decided their fortunes would be better off without a daughter with flaws like mine.”

“Assholes,” he says, before he can think better of it, but she smiles. “So, what do you need the money for?”

“The same thing everyone needs money for. Food, shelter, and to keep it out of the hands of people I don’t like.”

“If you’d disappeared at the same time I lost a bunch of my stuff, I would have known it was you.”

She shrugs, easy, with a smile playing on her lips like she’s still not telling him something. Of course, she’ll probably be gone in the morning, now that he’s found her out.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just get married?” he asks.

“Maybe for you. Some of us aren’t spoiled for choice.”

“I meant me,” he says. She frowns, which means he has the chance to get out of the offer, but he finds he doesn’t really want to. The missing piece is that she’s some sort of con woman, and she was acting the way she had been as part of a plot to get his attention, gain his trust, and rob him. Now that he knows that, he can put together the rest of her actions, and he likes her.

Likes her better, even. That’s probably something to worry about. But if his family disowned him for a birth defect and he couldn’t make a good match or find a good job, he’d probably be fleecing rich people too.

And everyone does keep telling him he doesn’t have to marry a proper lady, just someone who fits into his life.

“I’m not that rich,” he says. “I’ve got a job and my boss likes me and pays me well. His wife is rich, I know some powerful people. I’m not a lord, but if you just want a husband who’ll treat you right and make sure you’ve got a good life, I’m your man.”

“You want to marry me,” she says, sounding vaguely stunned.

“Why not?”

“You found me in your house, in the middle of the night, trying to steal from you.”

“Yeah, so you clearly need money. Marriage seems like an easier, safer way to get it than stealing from people, and this way you can stick around instead of leaving town.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

“I get married and everyone stops asking me when it’s going to happen. I’m not worried about marrying some lady I’ve got nothing in common with, and as long as I give you food, shelter, and money that could have gone to assholes instead, you’re happy, right?”

“Not very romantic of you.”

“I found you in my house in the middle of the night trying to steal from me,” he points out. “How much romance are you looking for?” But he does want her to marry him, so he makes himself add, “Look, this whole marriage thing? I wasn’t doing that well with it.”

She smirks. “I heard.”

“You’re the only person I met I could actually think about marrying. Stealing and all.”

“You have very peculiar taste in women, H–” She frowns. “I don’t even know your given name.”

“John,” he says. “But no one calls me that.”

“You have very peculiar taste in women, John Murphy,” she says, ignoring him.

“Is that a yes?”

“If it’s not, are you going to call the police?”

“No.”

“Then it’s a maybe.” She leans up and kisses him on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, John.”

“See you,” he echoes, and just like that, she’s gone.

A week later, Murphy goes downstairs in the morning and finds the figurine Emori was looking at gone, and his heart sinks. He hadn’t really thought she’d marry him, but he thought he had a few more weeks of hoping, of not being sure.

“Joke’s on you,” he mutters. “It really is worthless.”

It’s only then that he notices the piece of paper left in its place, a note written in a neat, unfamiliar hand.

Dear John,

If you want this back, come to St. Michael’s Church tomorrow at three o'clock. Otherwise, I’m selling it for however much I can get.

-E

P.S. Wear something nice. It IS your wedding.

Murphy grins, whistles a little as he goes into the kitchen to find something for breakfast.

Maybe marriage won’t be so bad.

#romansuzume

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