A Blue Stocking Thing

Miss Hermione Granger looked at her reflection in the mirror ignoring comments of, "Red hair is not a becoming in a lady. Are you sure you want to read that? I would suggest the 'pink', a most becoming shade." The daily litany was irritable only in that it reminded her that she was far from the bon ideal of London's Ton. In fact, if her father had not blackmailed her into a Season, she would have been perfectly happy to remain in Epping. Her father, however, had gotten it into his head that she needed a London Season and the chance to meet with a wider circle of potential partners than was available at home. The fact that she had scared off half the locals and had hexed the rest may have had some bearing on his decision.

Viscount Marcus Granger, a widower, had sufficient blunt to not only fund his only child's season, but to also settle on her a considerable fortune on her marriage. Thus, Miss Granger, who also had an inheritance from her maternal grand-mother, was worth almost thirty thousand pounds. For thirty thousand many had approached Lord Granger asking, in some cases begging, to be allowed to take the hand of the beautiful, stylish and wealthy Miss Hermione Granger. He usually shared these with Miss Granger over supper, enjoying the sport of 'suitor slaying' as he and his daughter discussed with considerable wit the failings of each. But it weighed heavily on him that his daughter might end up alone.

Unable to take her up to London himself, and lacking the necessary contacts to lead a girl into successfully society, Lord Granger had finally called in the vowels he held on one Mr Vernon Dursley, Baron Privet. The Dursleys had a daughter of similar age to Miss Granger, and would be aiming to make a splash in society with her. Calling in the markers, Lord Granger had offered to assist Mr Dursley by funding both girls, and settling five thousand pound on Miss Dursley, in exchange for the markers if Dursley and his Wife were to assist Miss Granger make a successful come-out. Of course, if Mr Dursley refused he could instead repay the vowels, immediately.

Mr Dursley had no choice, and so it was with great 'rejoicing' that Miss Granger had joined the Dursley Household for the Season. Miss Phyllidia Dursley, and her mamma had been horrified to learn that they were expected to shepherd some country bumpkin through the Season, and had in fact almost put a stop to the scheme before it began. It was only when the true state of their financial affairs were made clear to them that they were convinced of the feasibility of the scheme.

In fact, once the social pages had been checked and the fortune of Lord Granger discovered Miss Dursely and her mamma were more than happy to assist the poor thing. "Imagine Mamma, the life she must have lead? Locked away from all polite society and discourse," Miss Dursley was heard to say whilst perusing the latest fashion plates. If she had to help this country bumpkin, she would make sure it was worth her own while, a new wardrobe at the very least.

"Yes, poor child. I had heard that she had attended at Miss Knowlealls Academy for Young Ladies in Waltham Abbey," Mrs Dursley commented, her face also buried in the social pages. A slight frown threatened, but was sent packing by a strong will, as she thought of Miss Knowlealls Academy, a known breeding ground for Bluestockings. If Miss Granger was one of that breed she and her daughter would have their work cut out for them. In point of fact less censure would arise from her being labels 'country' than would arise if the Miss Granger were labelled a 'bluestocking'. "What do you think of a pink pelisse trimmed in rose?" She asked her daughter.

That converstation had taken place been eight weeks ago. It was but two weeks ago that Miss Hermione Granger had arrived in London. The six weeks between these dates had been spent in the launching Miss Dursley into the Ton. The fact that they were to be assisting a poor unfortunate had in fact added positively to Miss Dursley's consequence among the Hostesses; they were heard to utter such praise as, "Such a kind girl, willing to share her light with other less fortunate."

The balloon had burst for Miss Dursley and her mother when Miss Granger had stepped off the coach without waiting for the coachboy to step up an assist. Such behaviour was almost unpardonable, but they allowed that she was new to the Polite World and may not have been cognisant of the gaff she had just made. Flicking the hood of her cloak back Miss Granger gave the waiting women the first real glance at their guest for the season; Miss Dursley was seen to swoon, and it was only the fast understanding of a passing gentlemen that prevented her falling to the ground in a faint.

Red hair, short, no figure worth noticing, and her dress; Miss Granger had been bundled into a long-hooded cloak so fast that she had barely registered that she had arrived in London. Two screaming harpies, one recovering from a swoon, had descended upon her and had her trussed like a chicken so fast that her head had spun. Thanking their lucky stars that they had brought the closed coach to meet Miss Granger, Miss Dursley and her mother began to panic at the sheer scope of the task before them.

"What can father have been thinking?" Miss Dursley cried. They had a bare three weeks to turn 'that' into something acceptable in society. The three weeks being the date set for Miss Granger's come-out.

"Maybe Madame Visen can be called upon to assist." Mrs Dursley thought furiously, working her way through an internal list of acceptable wig-makers, coiffurers, and in desperation, barbers. The hair was the first thing that HAD to be dealt with.

Unfortunately for the Dursley women, Miss Granger was made of sterner stuff. Any attempt to change the nature of her hair had the changer running for cover as she destroyed their pretensions with a sharp wit, and their own hair styles with an even sharper ability to hex. Finally accepting defeat on that front the women had gone to work on Miss Granger's sense of fashion.

These battles were surprising easy to win, they thought. Of course, what they failed to realise was that Miss Granger was quite happy to accept advice on style; colour was always easy to change so that war wouldn't surface until they actually let her out of the house. Madame Cestene, a very discrete proprietess on Bond Street was called in to assist in the dressing of Miss Granger. She found Miss Granger to be surprising well-informed on fashion and the available fabrics, given she had been led to understand that Miss Granger was a trifle 'country'. In fact, Madame Cestene was pleased to say the girl had a fine sense of what would, and what would not suit her. The only dark spot in the fashion war was the request by Mrs Dursley for a set of turbans to be designed to hide most, if not all of that hair.

The final battle, one doomed to failure, was Miss Granger's deplorable habit of 'reading'; not the society pages which was acceptable, no she had to want to read Ars Chemica, Potionus, and Transfigurations quarterly. Worse, she had subscriptions. The day the first journal was delivered, the butler had almost had a heart attack, when the second journal arrived Mrs Dursley's abigail threatened to leave her employ. In the end a truce was arrived at; Miss Granger could continue to receive her journals, but under no circumstance were they to be bought downstairs to the sitting room, EVER.

After two torturous weeks, the Dursley women decided that Miss Granger had a sufficient wardrobe the be able could join them in the morning room for the informal visits that characterised polite morning activity. Miss Granger was to sit at the back of the room, and to watch and learn. If her behaviour was deemed suitable they might extend the freedom to a walk in the park. Miss Granger did as she was asked, always mindful that her father wished this, but at times she was sorely tempted to escape.

This morning however, she had been requested to stay in her rooms as an important guest was expected. Having listened to Miss Dursley describe all of the eligible bachelors that currently sought her favour, Miss Granger wondered which would visit this morning, and whether Miss Dursley had plans to bring him up to scratch. Given last night was the night Miss Dursley had been slated to be formally introduced to the Earl of Snape, it was not hard to guess who the visitor was to be; the difficulty was that Miss Granger had read some of the Earl's work in Potionus and would dearly have loved the chance to talk with the man regardless of the impropriety. Knowing to do so would be tantamount to social suicide however she gamely resisted her natural impluse to be on the stair when he arrived. It wasn't until later in the morning that she remembered the copy of Ars Chemica that she had been reading the day before; she had left ot on the little table in the morning room. . .

TBC