Property of a Lady

[Natasi Fortan]

"I'm not a bit sorry he's dead."

The comment by Hector Finn-Camden was made as dispassionately as ever; he studied his fingernails as he commented on the passing of the late and not lamented Marquess of Averhill. "Averhill abutted to Westleira and he was constantly yammering on about how we were trespassing. The man was too stingy to get a real survey done, but if he had he'd know that he was trespassing. He made such a damned nuisance -- every fall when we went down the hill for the foxhunt, there he was, making the most terrific fuss."

He heaved a sigh and looked out the window as the streets of Avalonia passed by in a rush. Hector was in the back of a hired car with [member="Suravi Teigra"], his plus-one for the event being held at the Avalonia Grand Hotel, and a woman in a black dress and veil covering her face. The only thing that was visible of her head were tendrils of blonde hair that escaped the neat hat and veil. Of course, Hector and Suravi would know it was [member="Natasi Fortan"], but for reasons that she would not explain -- although Hector was not done asking -- she was unable or unwilling to attend the event publicly.

It was, as they said, the damnedest thing.

"It got to the point that we had to let Brancmoore for the hunt, or not hunt at all," Hector went on to Suravi. "The long and short of it being that frankly, I couldn't give a damn about honoring this man and as far as I'm concerned the Marchioness can bugger off, too. If it weren't for you, Natasi -- "

The veiled woman's head turned sharply. "Just be sure to get all of your aggression out here, in the car," she admonished him. "And remember the plan. I -- "

Hector waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, yes. We'll bid against each other and at some point you will drop out. I will continue the bidding and win the painting, then turn it over to you and you'll reimburse me. What's so important about this painting, anyway?"

The veiled woman hesitated, then muttered: "I told you, the painting is of the third Marchioness, who was my great-great-great-great-great-great-great aunt. Such a thing ought to stay in the family, and as there are no more of them it ought to come home to me."

Hector raised an eyebrow; the woman in the veil turned back towards the window, her gloved hands knitting together anxiously. Hector turned to [member="Suravi Teigra"], offering a charming, if apologetic smile. "Isn't this auction to benefit a crank's loopy widow ever so much more interesting than a dinner at Chez Lafayette?"

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Talbot Vitalis wasn't sorry the Marquess of Averhill was dead, either, but he wouldn't say it out loud, even alone in the privacy of his hotel room. The Avalonia Grand Hotel was the best in the city -- possibly the best in the empire -- and he had a good room with a view of the park. He stood, admiring the view with a neat whisky in one hand and a cigar in the other. The sun was just disappearing beyond the buildings to the west, casting the city in a golden glow. As the city blazed in all its glory -- having been broken by the Ssi-Ruuk, having been half-starved for resources, for peace, for normalcy in the year since war broke out -- Tal could understand why the city meant so much to the First Order's government.

No, not the government. His quarry. Her.

She had been in his trap once before -- years ago, now. They had been young then. There was some history there, but in the end, his father's greed and her father's weakness had resulted in a breaking of their engagement. To say that there had been hard feelings was an understatement; they had rapidly become the Hatfields and McCoys of the Galidraani noble class in a battle fought quietly, in drawing rooms and dining rooms and over the occasional game of croquet. It was also fought almost entirely by proxy; after the initial volley (wherein Natasi Fortan was accused of being a frigid opportunist, and Talbot Vitalis was accused of being gold-digging scoundrel) Natasi had left the planet to seek her fortune elsewhere, leaving Herevan to its heir, Maximilian Jens. But other aristocratic families -- the Reeds, the Finn-Camdens -- had fought on their behalf, blacklisting them from their house parties and business ventures.

The Vitalises were even briefly suspected as suspects in the burning of Herevan Hold! It was too ludicrous for words.

The Fortans had done nothing to quell the rumors, which they knew perfectly well weren't true. But Tal wasn't here to get vengeance. Not necessarily, at least. But he did want to get her attention, and he knew that she would be here, in person or with an agent, to bid on a certain portrait. Well, he wouldn't let it go to a Fortan without a fight. Talbot studied the park as it was slowly pulled into darkness. When the clock struck seven, he drained the last bit of whisky in his glass, set it down on the sideboard, and straightened his tie.

It was time.

[member="Hector Finn-Camden"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Suravi Teigra"]

 

[Natasi Fortan]

The car eased to a stop at the entrance of the hotel. "I'll see you inside," Natasi told [member="Suravi Teigra"] and [member="Hector Finn-Camden"] from beneath her veil before stepping out of the limousine. She adjusted everything before making her way through the main entrance. She knew the Avalonia Grand like she knew the back of her hand. Their bar and nightclub, the Lotus Club, made perhaps the best sidecar cocktails in the city. Natasi could have gone for one then, but she needed to stay sharp for what was to come. Instead, she followed the signage to the massive Starlight Ballroom which was set up with tables lining the walls and creating aisles in half the room; the other half was set up with chairs facing a podium. On her way in, Natasi picked up a bidding paddle, then entered the fray.

This was a public event, but since it had not been advertised, only the right sort of people were there -- wealthy, mostly older people or those of the small but growing Galidraani colony in Avalonia -- who had heard of the auction of old Averhill's effects through word of mouth. They were the sort of people who could afford the trappings of an aristocratic life -- the antique furnishings, the expensive knick-knacks, the extravagant jewelry. There was even a collection of antique and luxury landspeeders and even a custom shuttle, according to the programme. Natasi wandered the aisles; almost every item evoked some memory in Natasi. She had been friends with Averhill's late daughter, and had spent many a weekend visiting. She recognized the jade-handled fireplace tool set; she had used it to stroke the fire once upon a time. She had written notes on the small writing desk standing nearby, had eaten meals off the china on offer, had played bridge in the matching green armchairs on the other side of the aisle.

It was sad, to see a family's treasures -- a family's history, really -- being sold at auction. When a family line died out, or when an estate became unsustainable and the family were forced to downsize, these sorts of things were a sad necessity. The climate on Galidraan wasn't as friendly to those in the upper classes who sympathized with Galidraan's most famous living daughter, and so the auction had moved to her capital to avoid such complicated and messy matters of taxes and the Silver Jedi's bizarre interpretation of 'funding terrorism'. The executor, whoever he was, was quite the shrewd operator.

Natasi wandered up to the front, and there it was -- the wistful portrait of the beautiful brunette looking wryly into the distance. Her name was Emmeline Fortan Averhill -- the lone connection between the Averhill clan and the Fortan family. Natasi wasn't so sentimental as to want the portrait only for family reasons; the portrait would tell closely-held Fortan family secrets to those who knew where and how to look, and for that reason Natasi had to see it safely returned to Fortan family hands.

The bell chimed, indicating that the auction was about to begin. Natasi took a seat in the back row and crossed her ankles primly, resting her bidding paddle on her lap.