Farren was thrilled when the elf let her know that Pyxis had arrived and was in the hall. Every other week she had a standing dinner invitation at Dalemain. She would come from London to Cumbria for the appointment, often opting to spend the majority of the weekend in her childhood home. Though she often ruffled feathers with her mother she enjoyed being in her home and the access it gave her to the hills and lakes she'd enjoyed as a child.
At breakfast she'd been informed that her cousin Pyxis had been invited tonight. While not particularly abnormal he was not here more than once a month most of the time. So it was nice to have him join them. At least it provided there would be someone else to criticize besides her. She'd been dressed and ready for the day since having finished her ride mid-morning. A simple green dress
was accented with an elegant necklace
that had been gifted to her grandmother in the 20s. Setting down her reading Farren moved into the hallway where her cousin waited for her.
Taking his offered arm she laughed at his question. "I honestly haven't the faintest idea what this is about. I assume more about how we should also join up with Lord Voldemort. They certainly don't know anything about me worth discussing." She paused "Well....nothing apart from her usual about how I'm a massive disappointment and a total failure at life."
She turned leading Pyxis down the stairs into the center wing of the house where the shared common spaces were. "Maybe it's about you?" she posed arching her eyebrow. The dinning room was set for six: her grandparents, her parents, and the two of them. "Perhaps it's your turn to be the one in the hot seat for once," she lowered her voice as they entered the room where her father and Grandmother were already sitting at the table. Her grandmother was as stately as ever, dressed in something she might have literally resureccted from 1879 with her seamstress. Her father however was less impressed with such protocols. Though he had on evening wear he'd not even bothered with a tie or shaving for that matter. It was all very expected and would not surprise Pyxis. Seeing as she'd been at the house since the even before she'd already seen them multiple times and a formal greeting wasn't necessary. So she dropped Pyxis' arm and slipped into her seat across from her father while he greeted them.
Generally when it was the six of them they were quite informal. Though Pyxis was from the disgraced portion of the family he was the only family Farren had. His parents efforts to make up for the failures of their kin hadn't gone unnoticed. Pyxis was welcomed to Dalemain as often as he pleased and his relationship with her parents and grandparents was about as informal as people like them could manage. Each time he joined them for dinner the set up was the same, Spencer and Farrah her grandparents at the ends of the table. Her father sat to the right of her grandfather and she to his left. Then beside her Pyxis and beside her father her mother.
"How is that old pony of yours today Farren?" her father asked with a hint of a smirk. Farren had been gifted her gelding Tybalt when she was 12 and graduated from schooling pony. Though he was getting on with age Tybalt was still a handsome, sporty horse. However compared to the exotic magical horses her grandfather had started keeping the 20 year old gelding looked rather plain. So her father had taken to calling him her old pony as a joke. She refused to replace him or ride their other horses if it was a ride Tybalt was capable of, she was loyal to her old friend.
"Very well. We rode all the way to Hutton," she tapped her wine glass with her finger and it magically filled with the selection of the evening.
"Checking in on your real estate portfolio?" Rawdon teased her further. If her mother had been in the room the joke would have gone very poorly. Hutton, the house five miles from Dalemain on the opposite end of the estate was where the family heir was supposed to live and raise their family. Dalemain being the house for the seniors and Hutton the house for the younger family. It was bigger, parts of it were even finer than Dalemain by quite a lot, and it had been the seat of the second in command of the family for generations. Until her father, who had decided there was no need to move to Hutton when he had just one child and no interest in the astronomical costs and efforts of running his own mansion. Victoria had never emotionally recovered from being denied her own household. Having been married Farren couldn't say she blamed her much. She'd have rather cut off a finger than live with Mrs. Rosier.
"Ha," she smirked at her father, "Possibly," she paused for effect which made her father grin. They both knew she had no intention of moving to Hutton anytime soon. "The unicorn mare that had been living on the east edge of the forest there is due to drop a foal any day now. I went to see if there were any signs of it. Alas, the thing is either not born or they were scared off as we approached."
"Perhaps if you had a more nimble, sporty pony...." her father smirked.
Farrah was clearly very bored of their tittering about horses and unicorns already. Since it was all that seemed to be talked about these days, horses, Farrah had grown quite impatient with the topic. "Pyxis, do tell us how your work is going. Have you been put up for a promotion this year? Surely you are but a couple of years away from running your department...."
Rawdon glanced at Farren with a look somewhere between annoyance and sheer boredom at the answer Pyxis had not even given yet. Farrah never stopped obsessing over Pyxis' career, which was perhaps normal for nosy old ladies but nevertheless boring for everyone else.
Thankfully he was not given much time to get out an answer before the two remaining members of their party arrived. Her grandfather and mother entered the room together. Clearly they had been together somewhere. "So you didn't forget," her grandmother quipped as they entered the room.
"Hardly," Spencer responded curtly. "Pyxis," he said greeting him with a little nod as he took his seat at the head of the table.
As usual her mother, Victoria, looked disgruntled. Her dress was structured and dark, it looked unseasonably warm even, and she wore a silk robe draped from the sharp shoulders of the gown. Out of all of them she was the only one a muggle might think was utterly bizarre looking. Well, if the muggle assumed her grandmother was going to a period fancy dress party. Victoria refused to adapt her style even the slightest towards modern trends pulled from other cultures. "Good evening all," she said as she took her seat next to her husband.
"Well....Pyxis was just telling me of his job," Farrah offered as everyone reached for their napkins to lay across their laps and signal the start of the meal. Glasses filled as a pair of house elves in crisp, black uniforms that looked like pillow cases with cut outs for their heads and arms trotted into the room with the first course. "Surely you have some other exciting tales for your provincial relatives?" she suggested with a faint smile.