Vane and Troy's Awkward Adventures

[osprey_archer]

evelyn_b won a fic from me in the fandomlovespuertorico auction, and one of her prompts was "Vane and Troy's Awkward Adventures."

So I've finally finished that fic! It is not very long, so I will in the long run write another auction fic, but for now - please enjoy the Awkward Adventures.



Dear Rory,

I know I had some sharp words for you when you first passed along Lord Peter Wimsey’s request that I paint his wife’s portrait, but I take them back without reservation. She has a marvelous face. Not pretty - you know I mean this as a compliment. Pretty faces are so boring to paint.

But she is extraordinarily striking. Once you see her face, you want to keep looking at it. Even those horrible newspaper photographs they printed during her trial captured that quality, and the effect is far more powerful in person. It’s fortunate I didn’t have any charcoal with me at luncheon, or very likely I should have begun preliminary sketches right there on a napkin in the restaurant.

Lord Peter was terribly sorry you couldn’t make it - regaled us with stories of your years together at Eton. All a lot of bosh, I’m sure. Did he wear that monocle even then? I suppose it must have been a great provocation to you all, but all the same, I really can’t see you paddling Lord Peter with a hairbrush, though he swears up and down that you did.

Or can I? Charming though I found him, I imagine that when one is stuck in a dormitory with him, the temptation to strike him might become overwhelming. Especially if he is not exaggerating when he claims that he liked to tell you all tales of his apprenticeship with Sherlock Holmes. “That was Allers’ first case,” he said proudly. (Did they really call you Allers, Rory?). “He wanted to prove I made it all up.”

He also claims that your friendship began after you capped his quotation from Macbeth, which has the ring of truth. And I shall certainly want to hear your side of the story of the Case of the Missing Cricket Bat when you return.

Harriet – we progressed to first names during her portrait sittings; you see I’m not such a cold fish after all – let Lord Peter do most of the talking at that first lunch. Indeed, I don’t believe we exchanged more than a few pleasantries until her third sitting. It is a real pleasure to paint someone who doesn’t take advantage of the captive audience to treat you as a psychoanalyst. The family secrets people sometimes impart!

I am not sure Harriet and I ever would have had a conversation at all, except that when I arrived for the third sitting - Lord Peter wanted her painted in situ at her desk, and sent a car to bring me to their townhouse for the sittings - I found her still scribbling away. “I’m terribly sorry,” she said. “I’m in the middle of a scene, but I can stop if you need me to.”

Even as she offered, her eyes strayed back to her page and her fingers twitched on the pen. I assured her that I could work on the background, and she might keep writing as long as she needed.

But in fact I ended up finishing the work on her face at that sitting. Her look of absorption was exactly right - far more becoming than her self-consciousness in earlier sittings. It’s the pensiveness, I think, that makes her face so absorbing. Perhaps also that touch of sadness. Even her marriage, though it seems almost alarmingly happy, has not banished that.

At last she set aside her pen, and sat back in her chair, and sighed – and then started at the sight of me: she had forgotten I was there. “Oh! I am sorry,” she said.

“Oh no,” I assured you. “It was perfect. It made you so much less self-conscious.”

A tactless thing to say, of course, but it made her laughed. “Self-consciousness has always been my bugbear,” she said. “I was a wretchedly awkward girl.”

People like you, who were born polished and elegant (the Handsome Detective, as they call you in the papers! Nigel Bathgate may expire for want of copy while you are in New Zealand - ), probably cannot imagine what a bond it is to discover someone who shared one’s own childhood awkwardness. In a moment we were both transported back to our younger days, when we stood sullen and slump-shouldered in corners with our hands thrust in our pockets, bitterly and rebelliously aware that our angularity was an affront to the sugar-and-spice ideal of girlhood.

We found a great deal to talk about, and ended by sitting on the hearthrug - not ungracefully, I might add. “We’ve both grown into ourselves quite well,” I told Harriet cheerfully, and almost at once lost a crumpet off its toasting fork into the fire.

I even let her see her portrait, although it was not yet quite done. Already I could tell that it was the best thing that I’ve painted all year - perhaps the best thing I’ve painted since the war began. Painting can feel so frivolous when there are bombs dropping from the sky.

Harriet went all queer and shy as she studied the portrait. “Peter will love it,” she said quietly; and stood and looked a while longer, which is better praise than all the gush in the world, and more than makes up for the pangs I felt about not being able to send it to the Salon.

Even before I began painting, Lord Peter insisted upon the condition that the painting must not be publicly exhibited, but even if he had not I wouldn’t have sent it. The newspapers would take any public exhibition as an excuse to write yet another account of Harriet’s trial - doubtless with at least one execrable pun on the theme that “at last the notorious Harriet Vane has been hung somewhere, if only on the walls of the Salon.”

That phrase is Harriet’s, not mine. It is the only time she has ever alluded to her trial. She is such a private person: it must have hurt her deeply - the trial itself, but even more, the publicity. Even now, the reviews of her books never fail to allude to her “notoriety.” It infuriates me. I haven’t read her books - I am almost afraid to; I think I will like them, but it would be horrible if I don’t, and even if I do I may not have anything intelligent to say. But I am sure they deserve to be considered on their merits, rather than always linked to this sordid case in which she was cleared of all charges.

If people mentioned the Gluck case every time they discussed one of my paintings, I believe I would hang up my brushes. No - I don’t think I could bear that. But I might very well turn into a mad recluse who paints murals on the inner walls of her house, like Goya.

Harriet, however, has simply set her face against the wind, and continues to write. I admire her tremendously and wish that I knew how to tell her so, but so far my awkwardness - not outgrown after all, alas! - has gotten in the way.

The portrait is done, but we have continued to see a great deal of each other. We have even been Christmas shopping together, and you know how I loathe Christmas shopping - and it is even worse than usual now, with rationing. But Harriet took me to a peculiar shop, where I found a Chinese vase for Kattie which I hope will make up for all the years of lackluster gifts I have given, when I went to Harrods and fled with the first halfway presentable object I could find.

Harriet found the most marvelous chess set. She stood a long while in silent rapture at the sight. I think she and Peter must play. He is away on war work, and she rarely speaks of him, but I know she misses him a great deal.

She has invited me to spend Christmas at the Wimsey family seat. I have accepted: I hope your mother won’t be too disappointed. But it seems that your mother and the dowager duchess of Denver are great friends, so I may very well see your mother over the holidays after all.

Harriet has offered to try to line up a few of the women dons at her old Oxford college to sit for me. I do hope it works out. They acted as her bridesmaids at her wedding - she showed me the wedding photographs, at my insistence - and many of them have truly interesting faces. Do you think Oxford dons will think it is frivolous to have one’s portrait painted? Perhaps if I try to appeal to their sense of the higher aesthetic appeals of art…

I hope you arrived in New Zealand without any trouble on the high seas. One doesn’t hear as much about U-Boats this war as during the last, but still one can’t help worrying. Do send me a letter when you can. Until then, I send you

All my love,
Agatha

Comments

[sovay]

Vane and Troy's Awkward Adventures

This is lovely.

(I like the chess set.)

[ursula]

Awwww!

[evelyn_b]

OMG the Awkward Adventures are here! I'm technically still at work so I will have to come back later to read this properly but at first glance I love every single thing about it. Your Troy voice is SPOT ON. I will be back with a real comment soon!

(I don't think I even mentioned that the doomed chess set [RIP] was my second favorite character in GN, but I am delighted)

[evelyn_b]

“We’ve both grown into ourselves quite well,” I told Harriet cheerfully, and almost at once lost a crumpet off its toasting fork into the fire.

<<<<<<<<3333333333333

[the_rck]

This is fun! I know the Marsh side less well than the Sayers, but I know enough to recognize Troy.

[ladyherenya]

This is excellent! I can easily imagine Troy saying these things - and then writing this sort of letter about it - and now I'm wondering what Harriet's first impressions of Troy would be. There's something so delightful about the idea of the two of them becoming friends.

[osprey_archer]

Obviously Harriet needed a replacement chess set. I mourned the demise of that beautiful chess set more than I mourned the deaths of many actual human characters in other books.

[osprey_archer]

Thank you!

[osprey_archer]

All crumpets suffer from the suicidal urge to fall into fires. It is a true and sad fact, and clearly the reason that Troy is always dropping them. Nothing to do with clumsiness and/or inattentiveness!

[osprey_archer]

THAT POOR DOOMED CHESS SET. Its destruction struck me more deeply than actual character deaths in other books. It was so beautiful and also a symbol of their burgeoning love and Harriet's growing openness AND THEN IT WAS SMASHED. UGH. SO AWFUL.

I may have to buy a few of the Troy-centric Marsh books. I rarely reread mysteries, but it's been so long since I've read most of Marsh's books that I'm feeling the itch, and her character work is so strong that I think she'll stand rereading.

[osprey_archer]

They have so much in common! Not only are they both married to upper-class detectives who attended Eton and Oxford, which in itself would give them something to talk about - but they're both prickly and intense women who are stand somewhat outside their society's expectations for what a woman ought to be, and also both artists, although in different mediums.

I imagine that Harriet is appalled by the idea of having her portrait taken: she envisions the portraitist showing people the painting and saying, "And this is my portrait of famed murderess Harriet Vane! You can see how I captured the shiftiness around the eyes..."

This makes her quite guarded toward Troy at first, although she begrudgingly admits to Peter that Troy does not seem as awful as she feared.

[osprey_archer]

Troy is my favorite cranky angular portrait artist ever and I am glad I have captured her well enough that you can recognize her on the basis of a mere nodding acquaintance!

(If you want to get to know her better, Clutch of Constables is one of my favorite Marsh novels and also positively overflowing with Troy. I may like her even more than Alleyn.)

[evelyn_b]

I am glad you understand my feelings re: the chess set. I like to think Harriet held onto the pawn that rolled away under the furniture and was saved - but maybe she doesn't put it on display because she really doesn't want to have to explain how she came to have a single very expensive-looking pawn piece.

(my no. 1 fix-it fic wish is still "AU in which the chess set was ok")

I think buying some Marsh books is always a good idea. Almost always. Troy-centric Marsh books, definitely always.

[asakiyume]

I don't know the original stories beyond the name of Lord Peter Whimsey, but I enjoyed this very much--especially early on, when Agatha reflects that, after all, perhaps people **would** want to smack Lord Peter with a brush if they had to live with him.

Also, this piece made me curious to know what Harriet had been tried for.

ETA: Aha, I see from your comment above that it's murder. Yikes!

[osprey_archer]

Murder most foul! She was accused of poisoning the man she had been living in sin with - very scandalous - and made even more piquant by the fact that she's a murder mystery author who wrote novels where the murderers used poison. The newspapers had a field day.

I rather expect that Lord Peter was quite unpopular at school and mostly deserved it.

[thisbluespirit]

Aw, this was not only a lovely idea, but lovely in execution! (Er, not that kind...) It's great and I'm not sure what I liked both: We found a great deal to talk about, and ended by sitting on the hearthrug - not ungracefully, I might add. “We’ve both grown into ourselves quite well,” I told Harriet cheerfully, and almost at once lost a crumpet off its toasting fork into the fire.

[osprey_archer]

Troy seems to spend a lot of time sitting on hearthrugs (as indeed who would not if they had the chance?) so I had to work that into the story somehow.

[ladyherenya]

The mutual prickliness is big part of why I like the idea of them being friends so much. They seem like they value their friendships similarly, with an awareness that it isn't always easy to find people you can connect with. And if they didn't become BFFs, I think they would understand and accept the other's reserve.

[evelyn_b]

FINALLY catching up with comments today!

I hope you realize just how delightful this is and how HUGE a smile is on my face as I re-read it! I couldn't have asked for anything better. Your characterization of every single named character is impeccable here, even of the 'tecs who are conveniently off throwing quotes at Nazis or whatever it is they do. Even Dorothy L. Sayers' idealized vision of Oxford is in character. This is great fanfiction.

Charming though I found him, I imagine that when one is stuck in a dormitory with him, the temptation to strike him might become overwhelming. Especially if he is not exaggerating when he claims that he liked to tell you all tales of his apprenticeship with Sherlock Holmes.

<3

<3

except

when one is stuck in a dormitory with him

<3

I now have the personal headcanon that Peter's compulsive quotation has its origins in an (only partially sucessful) attempt to impress Allers. My personal headcanons about the Unstoppable Eton Detection Team are multiplying rapidly, no thanks to you.

And Troy not wanting to read a new (potential??) friend's books out of fear she might not like them is such a lovely Troy character note that I would never have thought of on my own, but is exactly right.

And TROY's VERY WIMSEY CHRISTMAS omg. I don't know what to say about that except that I'm sure that if you wrote it it would be hillaribrilliant. And I'm glad you picked up on the VERY OBVIOUS FACT that Lady Alleyn and the D.D. are friends.

I hope you'll post this to AO3 if you haven't already!

<3

[evelyn_b]

Aw, this was not only a lovely idea, but lovely in execution! (Er, not that kind...)

I laughed so much at this

you don't even know

so much.

[thisbluespirit]

It was a pune or a play on words! ;-D

[osprey_archer]

YES, I totally buy that Peter started quoting in an attempt to impress Alleyn, and after a while it just became a habit with him. Alleyn of course appreciates a good quote, but he feels that Peter overdoes it, poor old chap. He has always been slightly embarrassed by Peter's hero-worship.

I am now TERRIBLY TEMPTED to write Troy's Very Wimsey Christmas. They all apologize for the lack of festivities forced by the war, when in fact it's the most festive Christmas Troy has seen in years. Troy and Harriet listen to the King give a speech on the radio with the Dowager Duchess, who comments that the poor man's stutter seems to be getting worse, but "it sets an example of courage, I suppose: if he can continue to step up to the microphone, then the least one can do is grub potatoes."

Troy is deeply amused by the D.D.'s foibles but also rather admiring: there's solid stuff underneath all that surface silliness.

I may end up writing this as a third story to you, to finish discharging what I owe for your FandomLovesPuertoRico donation. I hope you don't mind too much not getting the Natasha story - someday its time will come, but I'm working on a different long MCU story for the other auction winner and apparently I can't do two at once.

[evelyn_b]

DO IT

give into that temptation and let the holiday awkwardness flow!

(if you feel like it, of course).

I would love to see the Natasha story and will be happy whenever/if its time comes, but you've already more than discharged your fandom auction obligations to me, so please don't worry about it either way!

[osprey_archer]

The holiday awkwardness burst forth! I will let it sit a couple of days so I can edit it, but it will make its appearance soon.

I feel that there should perhaps be a third letter/fic in this sequence, to round things off and give it some sort of conclusion (three is a nice conclusive number), but I don't know what it would be about. Hmm. Must give this some thought.