Matthew Fairchild, Cordelia Herondale, Alastair Carstairs, Thomas Lightwood, Lucie Blackthorn, Ari Bridgestock, & Tessa Herondale
1911
Curzon Street, London >>> Various Addresses
Dear All,
If you’re receiving this letter, then you have been invited to the party of the year! For my very own parabatai, Jameson Jeremy Jesisiah Herondale, will be turning twenty-five years OLD in just three weeks’ time! Please accept this as your cordial invitation to the event of the decade, which will be hosted at Cornwall Gardens, Kensington, in the residence of the Sirs Lightwood and Carstairs, for the rest of our lot have babies running amuck and toys strewn all about our houses…
Cordelia is now interjecting, to insist I inform you all that this party will be hosted by both myself and the lovely Mrs. Herondale, who is at present rolling her eyes and attempting to wrest my quill away from my hands. This is unjust treatment of the press, and I will not be silenced-
This is Cordelia now. The party will be on James’ birthday at Alastair and Thomas’s house, and it is a SURPRISE. Do not tell James!! Luce and I have a plan to distract him, and we will bring him around Cornwall Gardens at 19:00. We’re only inviting friends and family, so do not worry about the prospect of socialising with the boring lot of the London Enclave
Sorry, I stepped away from the desk to tend to my crying daughter, and Matthew took that as an opportunity to stage a mutiny. I have come out victorious in the end.
As I was saying, we will arrange for dinner, and Will and Tessa are getting the cake (Will laughed manically when I asked, so I do fear what design will be depicted. I do hope it’s a certain drawing of ten year-old James slaying a dragon…)
Please write back to let me know if you will be able to attend. Children are also welcome, though Alastair said they must be contained to a single room and cannot make the surfaces of his house, and I quote here, “sticky.”
Yours,
Cordelia Herondale & Matthew Fairchild
Cornwall Gardens, London >>> Curzon Street, London
Layla,
Unfortunately I will be attending your little farce, as circumstance is requiring it to be hosted in my house.
Why do birthday parties amongst this lot keep getting more and more elaborate? First it was a few drinks at the Devil - fine by me. Then it was organized parties - okay, that works. Now all this sneaking about, surprising people, booking bands and buying elaborate gifts and planning secret holidays? It will backfire in our faces one day, I am telling you.
Also, why must you quote me as calling all your friends’ children “sticky” in the invitation? Lucie wrote me a four page letter explaining how little Edmund is not like other babies, and that he is not sticky.
Four. Pages.
I know she is your parabatai (and for that I do love her deeply), but Angel, that girl can be dramatic. And incorrect - Thomas and I were over at her and Jesse’s place last week, and Edmund was quite sticky. And drooly. I’m fairly certain he was sick on Jesse’s shirt, but I didn’t point it out to him.
Speaking of children, this is the first time one of Matthew Fairchild’s offspring will enter my home. I know little Vienna is but a few months old, but you can understand my over-abundance of caution considering she is the result of Matthew and Esme Fairchild. I will not have Fairchild’s offspring drooling on my carpets or books or recently-tuned piano, and that must be understood.
Owen and Elizabeth, of course, are always welcome at Uncle Alastair’s. So are Zira and Kyson - really, it is the babies I most fear.
Thomas is reading over my shoulder and telling me to stop being ridiculous, but you know I am right. Remember when Zachary was a small baby? He did irreversible damage in this house. Irreversible. Thomas still hasn’t fixed the crown molding in the downstairs powder room.
Let me know if there is anything I can do to help in your preparations - especially if that something is buying a child-gate for the drawing room, so the stickiness and damage will be minimized to one area.
Yours,
Alastair
Cornwall Gardens, London >>> Curzon Street, London
Cordelia,
You know Alastair secretly adores children - do feel free to ignore him.
We’re looking forward to hosting the party at our place.
Yours,
Thomas
Wilson Street, London >>> Curzon Street, London
Darling Daisy,
What in the Angel’s name is this secret plan you speak of?! How are we meant to distract James all day?!
I know you love him, Daisy, and love can make one make false statements, but surely you know James is impossible to distract or deceive. My only suggestion would be distracting him with a trip the bookstore, but even that will only last for so long. Also, how do you plan to explain just the three of us going out together on his actual birthday? Surely he would want Owen and Elizabeth there, and Mam and Papa as well.
Because you are my parabatai, I trust you indefinitely. However, we may need to brainstorm together on this one. Perhaps you could come over to mine for tea tomorrow?
Oh, and of course Jesse and Edmund and I will all be in attendance. And do tell Alastair that Edmund is not sticky - Edmund’s manners astound me, and I reckon he must be the cleanest, most thoughtful baby to have ever lived. It makes me worried about this next one (who is due three months from today, I’m so excited!) - Edmund is such an easy baby, and I’m worried Jesse and I have gotten too relaxed. Hopefully little Margaret will share her brother’s temperament!
Let me know about tea tomorrow! I love you always.
Your parabatai, soul sister, sister-in-law, and forever friend,
Lucie
Curzon Street, London >>> Wilson Street, London
Dear Luce,
Three months from today? How exciting! I keep telling Elizabeth that she will have another cousin soon - I am so excited that her and Vienna and Margaret will all be so close in age, and hopefully they will grow up to be friends! I know you said we will make them be best friends, but I am afraid such a thing cannot be forced (although, on second thought, I sometimes think your father masterminded not just our parabatai ceremony, but also my wedding with James. Think about it: he had us together so often as children. Perhaps he, too, was trying to “force it,” and I guess it worked.)
Don’t worry, I’ve been orchestrating a master plan. It involves unfathomable levels of deception, fake letters from Matthew and Thomas, and incredible acting on our part. If everything goes according to plan, we can get James out of Curzon Street at 15:00 and back at Cornwall Gardens by 19:00 - plenty of time for the others to set up. We’ll have to get your parents or Jesse in on it too, to watch Owen and Elizabeth while we distract James out and about in London.
Sorry for roping you into it, but you know how excited I get with surprises; I like to applaud myself as a coy actor, but I am certain I would confess to James quite quickly what I actually have planned. You will keep me accountable, and I know you will not cave to James’ questions or suspicions - it’s the superpower of siblings, that we love them enough to torment them for their own good.
I’ll explain everything at tea tomorrow! How is 14:30? I cannot wait to see you and (not-sticky!) Edmund.
Yours,
Cordelia
Wilson Street, London >>> Curzon Street, London
Daisy,
You are correct that I have no qualms about deceiving the Cruel Prince James, and I am more than happy to assist with your brilliant scheme, you perfect, genius, beautiful angel.
Tomorrow at 14:30 is perfect. Feel free to bring along Elizabeth and/or Owen if need be! And do not worry about the children on James’ birthday - I will bring Jesse with me to yours, and then Jesse can watch the kids and bring them to Cornwall Gardens.
I’m so excited! See you tomorrow!
Yours,
Lucie
Percy Street, London -> Curzon Street, London
Dear Cordelia,
I am writing to notify you that we’ve received your invitation (or was it Matthew’s? Pray tell me, who in their right mind uses blue ink for official correspondence?), and you can count the entire Lightwood-Bridgestock lot as being in attendance. Do tell Alastair that means both Zira and Kyson as well, and while Zira is six now and less prone to bouts of stickiness, Kyson is but four; he loves the outdoors and mud and bugs and a variety of gross substances, and his non-stickiness cannot be guaranteed.
Zira has just interrupted me, to tell me that she will not be attending unless her best friend, Aunt Cordelia, will be there. How precious! I told her that you are Uncle James’ wife and, therefore, will of course be in attendance, and she teared up and informed me that “Aunt Cordelia is not married,” because she is Zira’s best friend and Zira cannot be best friends with someone who is “old and married.” Honestly, you must watch out as they get older - they don’t even mean to hurt you, and yet their words can sting! If she thinks you’re old, she must think Anna and I are positively ancient.
(Update: I asked her because I felt like hurting myself, and she said I am very old. When I asked her how old, she said “at least fifty.”)
Well, I am off to weep in my bed at my daughter’s words. All four of us will be there - cannot wait to see you, James, and the kids!
Yours,
Ari
P.S. - are you going to the Wentworth’s ball next weekend? Anna does not want to attend, and to be honest neither do I. However, Cecily and Gabriel are going, as well as my mother, and they’ve asked us to come. We know Matthew and Esme aren’t going (they have a newborn - what a great excuse!) and Alastair and Thomas made up some ridiculous story about an art gallery opening on the spot when we were handed our invitations (the lying bastards!) Lucie and Jesse will surely skip out since they have a baby and she’s expecting, so you and James are our final hope: are you planning to come?
Let me rephrase that - please come, otherwise we may lose our minds.
Curzon Street, London >>> Percy Street, London
Dear Ari,
Aw, do tell Zira she’s my best friend, too! I’m not loving that she thinks I’m old, but at least she does not think I’m fifty.
Kyson is of course welcome, covered in mud or not. You know how Alastair is; he acts grumpy, but he’s deeply caring beneath it all. He loves children, and I’m sure he’ll be playing with them all on the floor by the night’s end.
Oh, please don’t remind me. James and I have been on the lookout for an excuse not to attend for weeks now. We’re in the same situation; Will and Tessa are going and want us to come, but we have both agreed that we would rather bathe in lava than listen to Catherine Townsend play the flute ever again. Perhaps we can all go together, and come up with an excuse to leave early?
Yours,
Cordelia
P.S. - an art gallery opening? They’re not just lying bastards - they’re pretentious lying bastards, at that.
London Institute, London >>> Curzon Street, London
Dear Cordelia,
What is this of Will laughing maniacally about the cake? I am very concerned - I will follow up, and get back to you post-haste.
Sincerely,
Tessa
London Institute, London >>> Curzon Street, London
Cordelia,
Crisis averted. Will and Lucie were in on it together, and I saw their (poorly-rendered) sketch of what they envisioned the cake to be.
It was hilarious, but James would never forgive us; it was much, much worse than the Jonathan Shadowhunter dragon-slaying drawing. You may not even know the story behind it - it is James’ most embarrassing childhood memory, in his mind, though in reality the story in full is quite sweet - but never fear; I shall tell you at that awful Wentworth ball next weekend, but you mustn’t tell James!
Jesse and I conspired to destroy the plans, and we have placed an order for an appropriate birthday cake.
(It does have one duck on it, which I thought was a rather nice touch).
Yours,
Tessa
Mayfair, London >>> Curzon Street, London
Cordelia,
I do believe everyone has RSVP’d, and the food has all been ordered. I hope everything else is good to go; I love Vienna more than I ever knew it possible to love another person, but I must admit that she keeps me exhausted. I wouldn’t be surprised if I stumbled out the door without my pants on, let alone if I forgot some minor detail in the arrangements.
Thank you for all your help, truly. James deserves it, and there’s no way I would be able to pull of this surprise alone in my sleep-deprived, confused, spit-up on, deliriously happy current state.
Yours,
Matthew
[After the party]
Cornwall Gardens, London >>> Curzon Street, London
Layla,
…
Need I say anything?
Birthday parties are cancelled amongst this lot - never again.
Yours,
Alastair
Curzon Street, London >>> Cornwall Gardens, London
Alastair,
I don’t want to sound childish, but it was ZACHARY’S FAULT. Zachary, Alexander, Matilda, and Louise. I know they are children and I am a grown woman, but still: it was their fault.
Mâmân said she would retune your piano and cake comes out of carpets, so do calm down.
And no can do; Thomas and I are already planning your party for next year!
Love you always,
Cordelia