Dominic Hissop: Difference between revisions
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Dominic lost little time in storing what little he cared for, selling most of what he didn't, but for the land, and leaving the rest in the hands of his steward and a business manager (not that his presence made much difference,) and bid his mistress and bastards farewell, giving her a tidy cash sum upon his departure. (After all, he could hardly say if or when he'd be back, and neither had any illusions about happily-ever-after.) As he expects his cousin will put him up in London, he hopes to live off Pennington's money rather than his own, and the beleaguered plantation may have a chance to recover itself without being regularly pressed and drained of all possible funds by the feckless and selfish Mr. Hissop. | Dominic lost little time in storing what little he cared for, selling most of what he didn't, but for the land, and leaving the rest in the hands of his steward and a business manager (not that his presence made much difference,) and bid his mistress and bastards farewell, giving her a tidy cash sum upon his departure. (After all, he could hardly say if or when he'd be back, and neither had any illusions about happily-ever-after.) As he expects his cousin will put him up in London, he hopes to live off Pennington's money rather than his own, and the beleaguered plantation may have a chance to recover itself without being regularly pressed and drained of all possible funds by the feckless and selfish Mr. Hissop. | ||
Dominic would be something of a nightmareish figure for Society mamas--their every idea of a brutish figure from the wild colonies, brought to life. Very nearly six feet tall and swarthy, even in immaculate evening dress he's strikingly un-English, for an Englishman by (some) blood. Grey eyes that will hold a stare for far longer than is considered polite, his mother's dark hair and complexion, all the darker for his Jamaican tan, with a stern mouth, though its lines can be easily softened with a sneer or a smirk, and rarely--a true smile. His teeth are good, white and even. Something of a wonder, given his money has been made in sugar and tobacco. | |||
== Personality == | == Personality == |
Revision as of 05:48, 13 September 2013
[[File: ]] | |
Portrayed by Michael Fassbender | |
Full Name | Dominic Hissop |
---|---|
Title | heir to the Duchy of Pennington |
Associated Noble House(s) | Duchy of Pennington |
Date of Birth | 3 June, 1776 |
Father | George Hissop |
Father's Rank | plantation owner |
Mother | Mariana Hissop |
Mother's Rank | none |
Town Residence | {{{residence}}} |
Income | never enough |
School | none |
University | none |
Year Attained Title | none |
Played by Emily.
Family
Father: George Hissop - b. 1746, d. 1802
Mother: Mariana Hissop (nee Morales) - b. 1757, d. 1780
Second cousin, once removed: Henry Hissop - b. 1766
Second cousin, once removed, by marriage: Julia Hissop - b. 1787
Mistress: Maria Isabel Tomàs (b. 1784)
Children: Esteban (b. 1805) & Ines (b. 1809)
Friends
Acquaintances
Love Interests
Enemies
History
Childhood
Dominic was born in the foetid and oppressive heat of high summer in the West Indies, red-faced and squalling as his mother lay pale and quiet, too weak to make any outcry above a low moan, sweating beneath the heavy humidity of the shuttered room in the plantation's great house. Had he been born some centuries before, such a choleric atmosphere could not have failed to predict how he would turn out. Another such difficult labour would take Mariana's life some years later, her second son stillborn.
Dominic's father George being a man more practical than sentimental led him to abandon the notion of re-marrying. He had the necessary son, after all, and Dominic's constitution was strong. More wedded to his plantation than anything else, and having taken a native Spanish Creole bride as a matter of convenience more than anything, George Hissop was content to bury himself in his business affairs. He did not mix socially, if he could at all help it, and entertained few visitors at the grand home his father had built, now empty but for the master and his son and their few servants. If a man needed a woman, any woman would do, and such women were easily come by, and far less trouble than a wife.
Dominic grew up in the care of servants plucked from among the locals, though he later had a tutor who had travelled from England--having had to leave his native land for some damned dalliance with some damned daughter of some damned duke...Dominic was never clear on the details and never cared: for the harassed-looking tutor, his history, or his lessons. Many of his lesson-books are covered in scrawls and doodles, and the habit has grown into a proclivity for rough, dark charcoal sketches--though the subject-matter is generally more realistic and even frightfully modern, rather than prettyish landscapes or proper portraits.
George eventually outlined the basic tenets of running the plantation for his son as he grew older, but as to its finer points, he had generally assumed he would get around to it when he had more time on his hands. That time never came. In fact, his ran out entirely. The climate took its toll on George's health, and after a short illness and rapid decline, he expired, leaving the whole plantation in Dominic's hands.
Jamaica
While not inept, Dominic simply never cared for the family's source of income as his father had, and took little pride or interest in it. All Dominic could really understand was the money, the figures, and nothing of the toil and workings of the vast enterprise. His knowledge of trade and economic finesse being rudimentary, and his taste for the finer things now given full access to the plantation's coffers, it took scarcely a few years for the entire business to begin to falter. The house had never been spectacularly kept up, and though all is cleaned and ordered by the staff, there is an aura of shabbiness out of the place through sheer spiritual neglect. Four walls and a roof, a place to eat and sleep, for Dominic, though he often eats and sleeps elsewhere.
Even his slipshod social skills knew better than to install his mistress in his own family home, and Dominic has enough bored and bitter memories about those rooms to feel more at ease in fresh surroundings. Still, the added expense of lodgings in the town nearby for the woman he kept--indeed, had been keeping even prior to his father's final illness--has hardly helped matters. Nor has the keeping of the two children she has borne him--undoubtedly his, both having his striking grey eyes and their mother's dark skin, (Isabel being the natural daughter of the owner of a neighbouring plantation and a woman once his slave.)
Uncertain what to do, and having little aptitude for long-term planning, Dominic would have presumably driven the plantation as far into the ground as he could...and then, the deluge.
London
As it is, a most intriguing letter arrived from a distant relation in England, explaining that he has the honour of being the next Duke of Pennington, by all accounts.
Dominic lost little time in storing what little he cared for, selling most of what he didn't, but for the land, and leaving the rest in the hands of his steward and a business manager (not that his presence made much difference,) and bid his mistress and bastards farewell, giving her a tidy cash sum upon his departure. (After all, he could hardly say if or when he'd be back, and neither had any illusions about happily-ever-after.) As he expects his cousin will put him up in London, he hopes to live off Pennington's money rather than his own, and the beleaguered plantation may have a chance to recover itself without being regularly pressed and drained of all possible funds by the feckless and selfish Mr. Hissop.
Dominic would be something of a nightmareish figure for Society mamas--their every idea of a brutish figure from the wild colonies, brought to life. Very nearly six feet tall and swarthy, even in immaculate evening dress he's strikingly un-English, for an Englishman by (some) blood. Grey eyes that will hold a stare for far longer than is considered polite, his mother's dark hair and complexion, all the darker for his Jamaican tan, with a stern mouth, though its lines can be easily softened with a sneer or a smirk, and rarely--a true smile. His teeth are good, white and even. Something of a wonder, given his money has been made in sugar and tobacco.