Post by Ember on Mar 3, 2013 22:42:46 GMT -5
Charles Nathaniel Penrose
forty-four. 8th Earl of Carmarthen . Kingsgate HouseCharles . born 14/4/1862
relatives
Father
Lord Richard Penrose, deceased
Mother
Eleanor Penrose (née Winthrop), the Dowager Countess
Siblings
Benjamin Fearnley Penrose, forty-two years old
Simon Winthrop Penrose, deceased
Wife
Frances Penrose (née Bowland-Royce), thirty-nine years old
Son and Heir
Edward Penrose, Viscount Kingsgate, fourteen years old
Daughters
Elizabeth Penrose, seventeen years old
Katherine Penrose, sixteen years old
Annabel "Annie" Penrose, thirteen years old
sexuality
Heterosexual
relationship status
Married
Appearance
Charles Penrose is an icon of his time and station. Highly bred and taught well in his youth, he is now an ensign of refinement and regality. The man is simply distinguished, from the angle of his head, the set of his shoulders, the line of his mouth and determined authority of his gait. Charles was not only born an heir, but has allowed the pride of his station and class to seep into his pores, lacing each movement, each nod or bow, each word with an aristocratic and superior air. This, first of all, must be addressed. If Charles Penrose is to be perceived as anything, he is Lord of his small corner of the world; a fact that well suits him in both appearance and personality.
Charles has a multi-faceted countenance, capable of appearing in contrasting lights depending on the audience or the topic. He can either be the most warm or most formidable man depending on situation alone. He is not overly large in stature, but commanding at a lean 1.83 meters. He is not bulky, but seemingly strong. Not willowy, but lean through the torso. His skin is somewhat fair with olive tones, and he has the good grace of an unblemished face. Since he was a young man Charles has had the ability to grow impressive amounts of facial hair, a trait that is completely wasted on the man. By nightfall his morning shave is superfluous, and when evening events are planned, a second shave is necessary.
Charles' facial appearance is rugged meets refined. His face, when completely taken away from the statuesque being that is Charles Penrose, might better belong to a laborer. Age and duty have caused the lines that crease his forehead, the grey flecks at his temples, and the fleshy cobwebs that spread from the outer corners of his smoldering blue eyes. Charles' eyebrows ride low directly above his sharp, discerning eyes and contain no arch whatsoever, lending him a judgmental and superior gaze. His nose is masculine and straight, a downward facing arrow, with the bulb leaning ever so slightly to the left. His lips are thin, hiding large off-white teeth that are remarkably straight. Charles' smile or laugh has the ability to dramatically change his appearance.
Lord Carmarthen takes pride in his appearance and dress, taking care that his valet is mindful of everything from his kempt wavy russet hair to the shine of his shoes. Charles Penrose has a reputation of refinement and aristocracy to uphold, and he does so with a majestic and intimidating flair.
personality
Dominant, Intellectual, Expectant, Confident, Introverted, Proud, Distinguished, Dutiful, Sober, Stern, Pensive, Complicated
Lord Carmarthen's most prominent traits must be his pride and sense of duty. These are roles that he was not only born into, but grew to be rather good at. A shrewd business man with a keen eye, Charles doesn't miss a trick. He takes pride in his station and inheritance, always working to ensure the future of Kingsgate, to ever-better the land, the homes, and the way his own family is perceived. He employs financial wisdom, which has helped him live comfortably with a secure estate and fortune, and is even charitable with the village, but only when it directly benefits his good name. Oftentimes viewed as inapproachable and cold, Charles is thankful for his wife, who more than makes up for his social shortcomings.
Charles is unsure of whether or not he is happy with life. He is used to his routines, he is comfortable, and would venture to say that he is content. For the most part, Charles feels apathetic. He is distanced from his wife, he is disrespected at every turn by his eldest daughters, he is unsatisfied with his son, and seems to be at odds with his own mother half of the time. The culprit of his apathy with life could very well be that Charles is bored. He wakes each day with the same routine, the same clothing, the same meals, the same squabbles with Elizabeth, the same awkwardness with his own wife. In a world where nothing changes, and the things he would like to change are seemingly out of his control, Charles cannot help but feel that life has lost its excitement and luster. His one saving grace is Annabel, whom he cherishes above all else.
Annabel's version on Lord Carmarthen is a far cry from the world's version. With her, he is warm and attentive, lighthearted, doting and proud of even the smallest accomplishments. To him, she is perfect and bright and a welcome relief from the mundane. He openly favors her, not bothered by how this fact might affect his other children. In truth, he thinks that favoring Annie might cause his other children to try harder to earn his pride and respect in them. The man is greatly flawed, but not heartless. He does love his other children greatly and in their youth showed them much affection, but it seems to Charles that the older they become, the less they need him and the more disappointed he grows in their decisions. The reality that he cannot order them around any longer is a difficult one to grasp, and he realizes that he may be going about the relationship in the perfectly wrong way, but knows no other way to do so.
For being a man of emotional detachment, Charles can be described as moody. He prefers to be in charge and is quick to anger, especially when his judgment is challenged or his decisions are argued. Not a good negotiator, he expects his children and subjects to simply obey his wishes without discussion and when they do not, tempers flare. Charles knows that he goes about the business of his children in the wrong way oftentimes, but is too proud to allow them the upper hand in an argument. With that stated, Lord Carmarthen is a practiced gentleman and strives to keep himself in check at most times, and always in public.
He is a man of routines and schedules, of expectations. He is not good at spontaneity or change, in fact, he despises it. Charles is very particular about the way his staff runs the household, desirous that acts be performed in a very specific manner. If one routine falls through it is likely to ruin his entire day, as Charles is also very superstitious.
In Lord Carmarthen's eyes, those who serve him are not his equals. They are humans, and are to be respected as such, but are less important than those of his class and less deserving of his time. His servants should look to him as a savior for employing so many in need of stable employment. He is grateful for their service, but he pays them well for a job that needs doing, and does not get involved emotionally with the hired help. With the exception of his butler and valet, he is disconnected from his own staff and truthfully can't be bothered with them or their personal needs.
Charles is fond of the written word, and being studious in nature, can oft be found studying maps, lectures, poetry, or brooding over his own thoughts and opinions. It is much easier for him to form extensive thoughts and ideas than to express them word by word. He is a poor communicator for being so intelligent, and despises talking of emotions or anything of a personal nature. He firmly believes that some things should be kept to oneself and never discussed openly. It is a difficult belief to stand firm on in an ever-changing world, and his own stubbornness keeps Charles rooted in the old-fashioned ways at the turn of the century. Sadly, it keeps distance between himself and those he loves. Charles is the author of a world of impossible expectations, which only results in disappointment.
history
Charles Nathaniel Penrose was born the eldest of three boys, one year apart each, and the heir to his father's claim. His father, an ill man since the time of his infancy, was shrewd and angry, doling out constant demands and very little praise. Expectations were high for Charles, and the young lad toughened up early on, severing emotional attachments and growing up very quickly. He was schooled relentlessly; taught intellectually, in charm and manners, in horsemanship and sportsmanship among other things. He was shaped into a man well before he needed be. There was very little joy in his upbringing, even from his lovely mother. She was loving, but ever careful, and never spoke ill or out of turn, rarely stuck up for her sons. She was dominated and ruled over by her husband in every respect. There was very little love between Charles' parents, and on one occasion in particular, the Penrose brothers witnessed their father striking their mother. Charles, at eight years old, learned the hard way never to intervene in mother and father's quarrels.
Perhaps it was a terrible thing, but Charles was pleased to see his father die as he stood by the bedside. Cirrhosis of the liver, the doctor had explained. Charles only wished it had happened sooner. Suddenly, at fourteen, he was master of the estate and while he paraded his title in front of his brothers (whom he never got on with), Charles felt overwhelmed by the pressure, secretly wishing that the duties hadn't fallen upon him. Schooling continued, including training in finances and accounting (per his mother's request), as well as other specific studies, and Charles started getting the hang of what it took to run the castle by the time he turned eighteen.
He was never any good socially, as silent and brooding as he was intelligent. No, that was Benjamin's calling in life. Born just late enough to be spared the duties of the title, Benjamin had a charm and appeal, a zeal for life that left Charles in the shadows, despite being the next Earl of Carmarthen. Everyone adored Benjamin, and Charles despised that others favored his younger brother over him. At nineteen years old, and after a quarrel, Charles forced Ben to leave Kingsgate against his mothers wishes. Simon was equally as different as the other two, very loyal and just as brave. A fool, but an admirable fool. Simon enlisted to serve in the first Boer War at just sixteen and never came home. This took a great toll on their mother.
Not many years later, Charles outgrew his rebellious dislike for his position and came to thrive within it. He courted a few women of his class and station, but none that he could emotionally connect with until he met the beautiful Frances Bowland-Royce at a Winter Ball. Besides being what his mother called a "smart match", Charles felt more passion and longing than he had known in his life. He felt hope and the promise of a brighter future. She accepted him completely and made him happier than he had ever been when she became his wife. And what a loving wife she was! Much like his own father, Charles knew he didn't deserve her. Still, he did everything in his power to ensure her happiness. Not surprisingly, Charles became more popular once the lovely an well-spoken Frances was at his side. Suddenly he was on the lips of those who mattered, instead of Benjamin, who had roused up a few scandals to shame the family name.
Children came next, naturally, and it was easy to love the girls at first sight. He loved them too much, really, and it was strange coping with that flood of emotion. They were tiny and perfect, beautiful like their mother, but he also began to greatly worry. He needed to secure the estate and fretted constantly about the prospect of having no heir of his own bloodline. Charles was also worried that he would fail as a father, that he would, despite all efforts, be destined to repeat his own father's mistakes. These worries were foremost in his mind until the day Edward was born, and looking into his son's eyes, he knew that everything would be different now. He knew that he would do his best to raise a son better than he had been raised.
The family was now complete, Charles had secured an heir to Kingsgate, but Frances and Charles were surprised to learn, not long after the birth of their son, that she was again expecting. The burden of attaining a son lifted, Charles enjoyed looking forward to their surprise addition, and was thrilled at the arrival of another beautiful baby girl. Annabel stole his heart in every way, taking precedence even over his own son.
Life with children grew mundane over the years, the same routine every day, and Charles felt himself disengaging as a father as his children grew older and more independent. Because of this, the relationship between himself and the older children grew weak. He began to dislike the personalities of his eldest daughters once they became headstrong teenagers, he disliked their too-modern ways and became quite vocal about it. As for Edward, the boy was too soft. Charles had such great expectations for a son who was simply not as strong or intelligent as Charles thought he ought to be. They were too different in mind and body, and Charles found himself oft frustrated because of the boy and the way his mother pampered him so.
Relations between himself and Frances also faded between less intimacy and less conversation. She was different, distant and impossible to reach when they were together, yet seemingly genial and warm whenever they attended a formal dinner or event. It was proof, as far as he was concerned, that she had no desire to try any longer. To him, she was simply keeping up appearances, and much of the same has continued to date. Charles thinks heavily about the old days when the children were young and carefree. He broods much upon the state of his wife, and though he loves her painfully, he considers what it might feel like to find passion elsewhere (if here weren't so proud). He is concerned about Elizabeth and Katherine with nearly each waking thought, of their modern ways, and is consumed by the politics of marriage for them. He continues to try with Edward, to little avail at bridging the gap between their desires and personalities. And he continues to smile by the grace of his perfect Annabel. Lord Carmarthen walks a fine line between fulfillment and unhappiness, unsure of how to reach the former, but constantly longing for it.
rp sample
The toast was burnt. Damn. And the morning had been so promising.
Charles, knife poised in hand, entertained the thought of simply buttering the overcooked bread and cutting a bite with a bit of egg on top. But then, no. He couldn't. He paid good money for the cook and kitchen maids to purchase the best ingredients in order to deliver a proper breakfast. In fact, he paid them to be able to cook it correctly, which had not been done this morning and thusly he could not partake. Charles set the knife down delicately, and touched his lithe fingers together at the tips as he surveyed the table. Edward was chewing the corner off a piece of burned bread. Of course he was. The boy had no spine in him whatsoever to make the calls that needed to be made as viscount and 9th Earl of Kingsgate. If the boy could accept a piece of burnt toast, what sub-standards would he accept in the future? This had become a matter of propriety. An example needed to be set.
Charles twisted in his seat and cleared his throat. "Hopkins," He articulated to the butler and lifted the toast tray from the table, "Could you please replace this catastrophe with something befitting the table of my family?" Charles delivered a meaningful expression to further make his dissatisfaction evident, watched the man scurry away from the dining room, then turned back to face his plate, lips pursed in pious justification. If he could not ask for proper toast on his table, he was no master of this house.
Decidedly, he would wait for the new toast to arrive. Charles reached instead for one of the two envelopes on his right, the letter-opener, and sliced a quick line across the top. Extracting the thin paper within, he unfolded the document and held it at an arm's length to better discern the tight script with his worsening eyesight. Having read the document, his expression changed for the better. "Good news, Elizabeth," he stated, feeling pleased indeed. The letter was a welcome one, though he did not expect his daughter to accept it as such. As a matter of fact, she had been quite vocal about disliking the very subject. And so he smiled across the table at her to better deliver his next line. "The Duke of Somerset will be attending your party. He asks that I give you his highest regards until then."
New toast arrived, which he accepted with a curt thanks and winked across the table at Annabel as he lifted a thick, golden brown slice. Perhaps things were turning around. Perhaps there was hope for the day, nay, for the future yet.
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