A fan of many things

Eliza looked up from her plate and smiled at her brother, shaking her head.

"You need not worry yourself, my dear Will. While it is commonly considered good form to return a visit to your hosts following a dinner party, it need not be done the immediate day afterwards, any time within the next seven night will suffice, but we do not stand so much on ceremony here in the country as they do in town, we all know one another so well that these visits of etiquette are frequently overlooked entirely...there is no need to fear an intrusion upon your tranquility today."

William felt his heart sink at this and he scolded himself for it. Surely he could not in all seriousness be so enamoured with that young woman after meeting her twice (and the first time only very briefly) as to make him disappointed at not seeing her again so soon. 

'Oh, but that first brief meeting was enough to spark a great interest!' He thought, 'What spirit and bravery she had displayed approaching a strange man (dead for all she knew) in the dark and stormy lane...what vivacity she had shown in her interactions and responses once she found the man to be alive...and thoroughly cantankerous.'

No. No. He was not enamoured. He was curious. Curiosity about her had driven him close to insanity in the days between their two meetings, and meeting her again had only made him wish to know her more...but there was nothing romantic about it at all.

"Say, William, you appear disappointed?" Mr Gilbert commented with a smile, bringing William's attention back from his troubled thoughts. "Your return to dry land as a man of wealth and property has not turned you into one of these men of fashion who needs company and entertainment in order to make it through a day, now surely?"

William forced himself to laugh, and attempted to think up a reason for his apparently ill hidden dejection. 

"Disappointed? No, indeed! You know me, I can go days or even weeks entirely isolated and be none the worse off for it."

"You do look a little downhearted, Uncle." Eleanor added from across the table. Her delicate features were tugging into a frown as she carefully observed her uncle.

"Oh-ho, perhaps your Uncle met a lady that he liked last night, Eleanor?" Mr Gilbert suggested to his daughter, with a jovial smile and twinkling eyes. "The eldest Miss Bryce is rather lovely, as is the eldest Miss Beckett...though he did not speak to either of them a great deal...oh, but he was sat beside Mrs Clarke during dinner, you know, perhaps she has caught his eye!" 

John Gilbert was smiling at his own good humoured teasing, knowing full well that his brother had no interest in taking a wife (no matter how handsome a woman the widowed Mrs Clarke was) but that didn't stop William from choking on his tea at the suggestion. 

"Mrs- ahem - Mrs Clarke?!" He sputtered, while his sister looked on alarmed and her husband chuckled.

"Am I to judge by that reaction that I am correct, sir?" 

"I - ahem - Thank you, Henry. I am quite alright." William smiled and nodded to the small boy who was sat beside him, patting his back in so gentle a manner that his aid could barely be felt and most certainly would not have been any assistance had his patient been truly in danger of choking. As it was, however, Henry smiled back proudly, pleased to have saved his brave sea-captain uncle from choking at the breakfast table and went back to his food. William turned to look at his brother and replied in as firm a tone as he could muster after such a fit of coughing. "No, John, you are not correct."

John laughed, "Oh, poor Mrs Clarke! Did she not please you, Will?"

William laughed and rolled his eyes.

"Mrs Clarke seems like a very...amiable...woman, but it was not her of whom I was thinking."

Upon seeing the faces of his fellow diners, he immediately realised his mistake.

"Ah, so there is someone that you had been hoping to see again?" John Gilbert's sharp eyes sparkled with mirth.

William wracked his brain in a state of mild panic until an answer not too far from the truth presented itself.

"Mr Beckett!" He said, a touch too loudly, though he carried on as though everything were completely normal. "He and I had been having a very enjoyable conversation last night, before we were required to stop for dinner...and I had been rather hoping for an opportunity to continue it....he seems like a very good sort of fellow and one that I should not be displeased to know more of."

"Oh! Oh, yes, he is a very good man." Eliza smiled, clearly a little surprised but pleased that her brother had found someone amongst her neighbours with whom he could happily converse. "He is such a dear gentleman."

"That he is!" Mr Gilbert concurred. "But, I'm afraid that you will have very little chance of seeing him today. A dinner party such as we hosted last night is usually enough to make him tired of all society for a week!"

"Oh." William nodded. "Pitty..." 

"Do not look so disappointed, Will," his sister comforted him. "Mr Beckett will not want to stray far from home for a while now, but Mrs Beckett is likely to invite us to dinner in return before the week is out, she spoke of such an invitation as we were parting last evening. You will then be able to speak with Mr Beckett to your heart's content, especially as it's likely to be a much smaller gathering."

"Ah, well, that does sound pleasant. A small gathering is much more to my tastes." 

"Oh, was my social gathering of fourteen people, including ourselves, so very terrible?" Eliza looked at him with raised eyebrows. 

Will shook his head and smilingly reassured his sister that her dinner party had been most enjoyable, explaining that he had only meant that he likes to have the opportunity to speak with people on a more intimate level in order to get to know them.

Eliza accepted her brother's excuses with a good-hearted chuckle and conversation moved on to other things.

After breakfast was finished, William set out to fulfil the promise he made to his nieces and nephews the previous evening. They all went out into the garden and the children rode the Captain's fine horse, the two littlest ones sitting together upon the saddle, squirming and giggling with delight as their Uncle led them up and down the expanse of grass beside the house. Afterwards, Henry became a gallant knight, and had let out fierce battle cries with a stick for a sword as his uncle ran with his hand tightly gripping Arion's reins as the horse moved somewhere between a trot and a canter. Eleanor hadn't needed to be led, she rode along the gravel pathways at a steady walk. William had stayed close by to her, just in case anything spooked the animal again, and fought back an affectionate smile as he watched his young niece consciously maintaining her lady-like posture and expression while riding the horse which was far too big for her. After riding and playing pirates and navy in the gardens and being tossed in the air for the entire morning, the little ones grew tired, and after a small lunch the three youngest Gilbert children retired to the nursery for a rest.

Captain Regal took this opportunity to seek some exercise for himself, and declared his inclination for an afternoon ride. Upon hearing of her Uncle's intentions, Eleanor begged to be allowed to accompany him and after receiving her mother's permission the pair set out for the nearby village, Regal riding his fine, if somewhat flighty, horse while Eleanor sat upon her own sweet little pony.

The journey to the village was not a long one, and the two riders had soon reached the little main street, where William immediately noticed a display of prettily shaped and decorated gingerbread biscuits in the window of the bakery. His mind travelled at once to his conversation with his Miss Sunshine the night before; "aside from a little lack of appetite, I am entirely well again...and that symptom, I am sure, could quite easily be fixed by some gingerbread or baked apples."

Captain Regal had not noticed that he had ridden closer to the window of the bakery until his niece's exclamation brought him to his senses.

"Oh, Uncle....what sweet biscuits! Do you know who likes gingerbread?" She did not stop for a response, "Miss Y/N Beckett. She always used to bring some when she came to visit us, it's her favourite."

"Oh, is it, indeed?" William smiled at Eleanor as a plan formed in his mind. "How do you think she would like it if we were to take some to her on our way home? After all, her mama did say she has been rather unwell lately...perhaps they would cheer her up."

"Oh, Uncle! Can we really? I think she would love that above all things!"

William smiled fondly at his niece and made ready to dismount his horse. 

"Of course we can, petal. Let us go inside."

Y/N Beckett was sitting beneath a tree in a sunny part of the garden, a book resting on her lap, though she was not reading it. Instead, Y/N was watching the squirrels scurrying to and fro between the many trees surrounding her, gathering acorns and horse chestnuts for the cold months ahead. She always loved this time of year, the riot of colour which took hold of the world for a few short weeks, the hectic busyness of the many little creatures which inhabited the countryside, the delightful mixture of bright sunshine and crisp air. She felt that she could sit in this way forever and not grow weary of the scene. But within a moment, her mind had contradicted her. 

Did she not feel a burning desire to leave Staffordshire? Did she not long to see the country beyond its borders? To see the ocean?

She sighed in resignation. It was true. She did long for all of those things and no matter how beautiful Farwell was, or how much she loved her home, she believed that she would never be satisfied without seeing more of the world.

She glanced down at the book on her lap, "Homer's Odyssey" and thought of the pale sands and cerulean seas that she had heard of the night before. She tilted her head back against the rough bark of the great oak behind her and tried to envision the scenes that Captain Regal had described to her in such detail. She could see it now, shorelines of soft sand being caressed by slow, gentle waves of glimmering blue, crowned with dazzling flecks of white foam. She imagined majestic mountains rising up from the shore, olive trees and scrubs of grass covering the sides of the slopes as they reached towards the cloudless blue sky up above. It seemed to her that the light of the autumn sun which shone upon her face transformed into warmth of the Mediterranean sun, the oak at her back became an ancient, twisted olive tree like the ones Captain Regal had described. Her cheeks grew warm when her mind decided to show her the man himself riding along the beach towards her, his large, strong frame looking grand and godlike upon the magnificent horse he had been riding when they first met. As he approached, he smiled at her, not the polite smile that he gave to her when her father or his sister had been paying attention, but the other one that he only seemed to use when no other eyes were upon him but her own. The smile that made her cheeks and belly burn. She could almost hear the gentle tread of horses hooves approaching and part of her mind, that little part that wasn't lost in fantasy, supposed that her mind must be creating that sound most vividly as she had no idea what ocean waves sounded like, nor what calls the birds in Greece might make to one another. She felt her heart beat a little faster as the Captain Regal in her mind drew nearer.

"Good day, Miss Sunshine."

That was not in her mind. No matter how vividly she could recall his voice, she was certain that the voice she had just heard was as real as the tree at her back.

All at once, Miss Beckett's eyes flew open and she lifted her head from its resting spot against the tree. In front of her, mounted upon his horse as he had been in her mind only moments ago, sat Captain Regal himself, smiling down at her with the exact same smile she had just been imagining.

For a moment she was lost for words, she could neither think nor speak nor move. All she could do was look up at that mountain of a man before her and into his bright, smiling eyes. But then, a movement to his left caught her attention and she shifted her gaze to see what it was. 

"Hello, Y/N." Eleanor Gilbert had just brought her pony to rest at the side of her Uncle's hunter, her sweet face shining from excitement and exercise. The Captain's expression changed at once, his polite smile immediately taking the place of the more mischievous one that he had worn just moments before.

"Good - good afternoon, Eleanor." Y/N stammered, looking up at her dear little friend. "Good afternoon, Captain." She added, looking nervously towards Captain Regal.

As Y/N made to stand up, Captain Regal leapt down from his horse and was before her in an instant, holding his ungloved hand out to assist her. She gazed at his outstretched fingers, pondering the fact that he had chosen to ride without gloves, against the fashion and practise of most gentlemen. 

"Allow me to assist you." He offered. His voice was all politeness and propriety until he leant a little further towards her and finished his sentence with a hushed,

"Miss Sunshine." 

The words fell from his lips in voice dripping with mischief and a tone that Y/N did not fully understand, though it made her heart flutter all the same.

Y/N reached forward without even realising it, and placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet and up to stand before him. Y/N and the Captain simultaneously looked down at their ungloved hands, his fingers slightly tightening around her own, which she felt certain would have been trembling had he not been holding them.

"We have come to call on you, Miss Beckett." Captain Regal informed her, his voice casual and confident as he held onto her hand a little longer than necessary and her heart hammered against her ribs in a most peculiar way. He turned to gesture at his niece, still seated in her saddle, as he informed Miss Beckett of the reason for their visit.

"Eleanor and I had ridden into the village when we passed by the baker's shop, which had some delightful gingerbread biscuits in the window. Knowing how much you like the treats, I - erm - " he paused for a moment, his calm demeanor appearing to slip briefly before he regained control and he gestured to Eleanor again,. "my dear niece, thought it would be pleasant to bring some to you, to see if we can tempt your appetite back."

William watched with softhearted amusement as an endearing expression of confusion spread across Miss Sunshine's face and he could not help but smile when she spoke in a flustered voice.

"Oh! Well, that is very kind of you both!"  Y/N exclaimed, looking from William to Eleanor as he mentioned his niece.

"I am certain you will love them, Y/N. They are such pretty biscuits!" Will half-heard Eleanor gush without taking his eyes from the face of Miss Sunshine, the warmth of her delicate hand lingering on his fingers even though he had let go of her when she turned to look at his niece. He was unsure if it was seeing her in the bright light of a fine autumn day, or if he had simply not paid enough attention before, but he could not help but feel that, as handsome as he had always believed her to be, Miss Sunshine looked even more lovely than he had remembered. 

"Are they not, uncle?"

Regal, who was not expecting to be called on to speak, started at this and turned quickly from Miss Sunshine to look at Eleanor's smiling face.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, yes indeed, petal, delightful." He hurriedly replied, hoping that he had not missed anything and that his response was appropriate. 

William saw Eleanor's face light up even more at his words, leading him to believe that he had answered correctly, and he was relieved when she went on to ask that he retrieve the biscuits from his saddle bag, as it gave him an acceptable excuse to keep his eyes from Miss Sunshine while he regained his composure. 

William turned to hand the small package of treats to his niece, but she silently gestured towards Miss Sunshine, as though to tell him who they were for, and so he found it fell to him to present the gift.

Miss Sunshine took the package in a shy, flustered manner and offered thanks again and again as she looked from Regal to his niece. After both had dismissed all need for thanks, Sunshine looked over her shoulder towards her home before looking back at Eleanor.

"But you must both come inside and try these biscuits for yourselves! I'm sure you must not have tasted these biscuits these two years at least, Eleanor, and Captain Regal, I don't know that you have ever sampled Mr Johnson's fine baking?"

"No, I cannot say that I have had the pleasure, Miss, though I must say the shop smelled wonderful." William acknowledged with a smile.

He glanced back to his niece and saw that she was positively glowing with delight at the invitation and so decided that he should agree to the invitation...for Eleanor's sake, of course.

He took a few steps back to his niece's pony, he had wandered closer to Sunshine without even noticing, and lifted her down from her saddle with ease. As soon as her feet hit the ground, Eleanor rushed to Miss Sunshine's side and slipped her hand into the crook of her arm , smiling up at her with an adoring glow. Sunshine smiled down at her with an expression so joyful and open that William thought she had never looked so lovely, and then she turned that dazzling smile towards him and he felt as though his heart had stopped.

"Follow me, Captain Regal, you are in for such a treat."

Regal watched dumbfounded as she took hold of Eleanor's pony's reins, then walked lightly away down the gravelled path. He remained frozen for a moment, admiring the graceful, hypnotic movement of her body and the way the light glinted off of her uncovered hair. Then, he let out a shaky puff of breath and began to follow his Sunshine.

"Well...I am certainly in for something..."

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Charles followed Maria and The King into Catherine's private chambers and shut the door on the curious ladies with grim satisfaction. 

The Queen looked up as she heard the door close, her face showed clear signs of anxiety but she rose to her feet and curtsied to her husband with all the grace of a princess born and bred for greatness. The admirable sight of Catherine's fight against her own inner turmoil made Henry's reaction all the more frustrating. 

Henry scarcely acknowledged his wife's respectful greeting, inclining his head so slightly that the feather in his jewelled velvet cap barely quivered, and the tone of voice he used when addressing her could not have more clearly displayed his displeasure at the current situation. Charles wondered what his reaction would be when he learned why he was there. 

"Wife." Henry's spoke the word like a threat rather than a greeting. "Why have I been summoned in this manner? I was hunting. I was interrupted because you commanded it. I would know the meaning of this."

Charles fought hard to avoid rolling his eyes at Henry's words. He spoke as though he'd been summoned back from a joyful day of hunting with prestigious guests, in fine weather rather than having simply ran into Charles and Maria as he and his small party of friends raced back to the castle in search of shelter from the storm.

"My lord, will you sit?" Catherine offered, gesturing to the finest chair in her rooms and, Charles thought, showing far more curtesy to her husband than he currently deserved.

"No, I would not sit, Madam. I would receive an answer to my question!" Catherine inclined her head slightly in a small bow of ascent before raising her head and straightening her back, ready to speak with her husband, the King.

Charles found himself feeling rather anxious now that the topic would finally come out. He recalled how furious Henry had been the previous night and knew that he would likely go into a rage when faced with the accusations of his wife...even if he was indeed guilty of much of what she had to accuse him of. 

"I regret to inform your Grace," Catherine began, holding her head high but lowering her eyes in a deliberate show of regret. "That I have received most harmful news regarding one of my ladies."

Charles glanced at Henry, trying to discreetly gage his mood. The King looked curious, though no less sullen, and he did not speak a word.

Finding that she was to receive no response thus far, Catherine continued.

"I was, this morning, lead to believe that one of my ladies, Lady Wentworth to be precise, last night partook in lude and salacious behaviour most unbecoming of a lady of my household, betraying both her Mistress and the memory of her good father."

Brandon's feelings of unease grew ever deeper and he watched Henry closely as the Queen finished speaking. The King scowled, his expression as dark as the storm outside. 

"And who exactly, Madam, provided this salacious gossip?" As he spoke, his furious gaze turned from his wife to Charles.

Charles opened his mouth, ready to defend himself but Catherine spoke first.

"It was another of my ladies, my lord. She spoke with me this morning while I readied myself for the day. She appeared most troubled by the events."

Henry let out a vicious huff, somewhere between a laugh and a yell of anger.

"The lady should be more troubled by her own stupidity than by anything Lady Wentworth was involved in last night!" He flailed his arms as he spoke and stormed towards his wife, stopping mere inches from her.

"I know for certain that Lady Wentworth was involved in no such actions last evening, as she was with me! And surely your informant would not dare to suggest that I would defile the only daughter of my dear friend, Edmund?! Surely no-one would dare to suggest that I would interfere with a young woman whom I named, during the very evening we speak of, as my own sister?! For that is what I have done, wife. I invited Lady Wentworth to my chambers to speak with her and get to know more of her for the sake of her father. I offered the lady my love and friendship as a brother to a sister! She did no wrong in her visit and upon leaving my sight, was escorted directly to her own chambers by the Duke of Suffolk. I cannot help but wonder when this Lady of yours believes the girl to have found the opportunity to betray both her Mistress and the memory of her good father unless she accuses me of being the other party and that is as good as an accusation of incest!"

Charles was stunned by Henry's ability to turn an event in which he was very much in the wrong, into a tirade about his own innocence. Brandon acknowledged that he himself had told more than his share of lies in his time, but he felt certain that he had never been capable of doing so in the manner that Henry did when he was backed into a corner as he was now. Indeed, he almost believed that Henry had persuaded himself that his new version of events was the truth of the matter and that he was truly offended by the accusation that he had done what he originally attempted to do.

Despite Henry's anger and venom, Catherine had neither flinched nor moved back. She held her head high and watched her husband with a calm, unreadable expression. When his outburst was complete, she spoke again. It was only now that Charles thought he detected a hint of emotion in the slight tremour of her voice.

"I am most pleased to hear of Lady Wentworth's innocence in these accusations. I have not wished to hear of any such conduct by one so dear to my heart."

Charles was sure that he could see relief emanating from the Queen as she grew to acknowledge the truth that he himself had shared with her, now that she had heard it from the King’s own mouth. Afterall, although Henry had lied about his original intentions towards Y/N, they all knew that he would make no efforts to conceal an affair with her if he was indeed involved in in such a thing.

"Any suggestion of such behaviour was a despicable act of vindictiveness and the accuser should be held to account." Henry grumbled. The fire of the King’s rage seemed to have ebbed a little now that he felt that his innocence was accepted. "Who was the accuser, my lady?"

Charles noted the switch from “wife” or “madam” to “my lady” and felt relieved that Henry's anger towards the Queen was dying down. He wondered, now, whether Catherine would provide Henry with a true response and name the Warrington viper. 

“It was Jane Warrington, my lord.” Catherine answered, anger clear in her face as she named the woman who had tried to ruin Y/N.

“Jane Warrington?” Henry snarled. “Then I think I had better speak with her personally.”

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Y/N did not mind the ferocious wind, in fact, she found it almost freeing. The wildness of the air about her seemed to blow some of the fears and troubles from her mind for a time, and she set her heart upon making her way to the very furthest edge of the Duke's grounds before she would return to his home. So determined was she to reach the farthest edges of Lord Brandon's land, that she continued on even when she thought she may have felt one or two drops of rain against her skin; after all, a little rain, as her old friend Will used to say, would not shrink a person, and it was only a few drops.

But she had taken less than ten paces since the first drop had fallen when those few drops turned into a fierce downpour. The rain came upon her so suddenly and so heavily that she would have had no time to seek shelter, had seeking shelter even crossed her mind. Rather than try to hide from the rain, Y/N allowed herself to savour it. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, letting the cool rain fall over her face and down her neck and chest. She enjoyed the sensation for a few moments, it had been so long since she had been able to enjoy weather such as this, her Aunt had never allowed her to go out of doors in such conditions unless she was travelling by carriage and she now relished the feeling of the cold rain on her skin. However, remarkably soon, she found herself utterly drenched. Her rich gown, already rather heavy due to the layers of under and outer garments all made from rich, weighty fabric, now felt as heavy as a suit of armour. Her hood had become so sodden that it was slipping back from its pinned position and would not remain in place without her hand to steady it, and her shoes were wet through, making her stockings cling to her toes uncomfortably. Begrudgingly, Y/N admitted defeat and resigned herself to the necessity of returning to the house. 

She pushed her hood back into its correct position, or as close to it as possible, put her head down against the growing wind, and turned back towards Suffolk place.

Charles brought his horse to a standstill and bowed as subserviently as his dignity and position on horseback would allow.

"My Lord," he began, having to speak a little louder than he naturally would due to the howling wind and beating rain. "Lady De Salinas and myself have ridden out in search of you. There is a matter that requires your urgent attention."

Henry eyed Charles with evident suspicion. 

"What matter requiring my attention could possibly be so urgent as to bring both you and this good Lady out in search of me while I am at leisure? And searching for me on horseback no less? I do not believe Mistress De Salinas has ridden anything in years!" 

Henry's eyes flickered shrewdly between Charles and Maria, but the latter did not speak a word, she merely looked at Charles in a manner which he knew only too well to mean that she was displeased.

Charles turned his attention back to the King, ignoring the curious and disgruntled looks from the gentlemen around him, who were waiting impatiently to continue with their return to the palace and the promised comfort of dry clothes and warm fires.

"Your Majesty, it would do us no good to discuss details in this dreadful weather," he gestured flippantly with one hand, indicating nowhere in particular, merely hoping to draw Henry's attention away from his curiosity and back to the storm which was growing stronger with every passing moment. "Let us return to the shelter of the palace and speak fully when we are warm and dry."

Henry looked at Charles for a moment and the Duke wondered if his King was going to argue, to insist on knowing everything right there in the pouring rain...in front of all of those courtiers who he trusted so little, but finally the King conceded.

"You are right, Charles," he  nodded, sending drops of water flying from his bejewelled riding hat. "You are right. This weather is fucking dreadful. Let us get out of this blasted rain and into dry clothes....and then you and Lady De Salinas can explain yourselves in full."

He spoke the last sentence like a threat and kicked his horse onwards with ill hidden aggression, not sparing so much as a glance at any of those around him as he sped off towards the palace.

The waiting courtiers all followed suit, rushing to catch up with their King and eager to get out of the rain. Some of them glanced at Charles, some curious, some condescending, but it was of no great consequence to him what attitude their expressions held, Charles kept his head high and glared dominantly and defiantly into any eyes which met his own. 

When the last of the dripping wet riders had passed them by, Charles and Maria exchanged a furtive look before turning their horses and following the riding party back toward the stables without speaking a word.

The ride back to the palace was swift and Charles found himself in his own rooms soon enough to satisfy even his own anxious impatience. Brandon entered his room and changed his clothes within a matter of minutes, only giving his face and hair the very slightest rub down with a dry cloth to rid himself of some portion of the cold rain water which still clung to him and was making his way back out of his room before Edwards had even noticed his Lord's return. Charles threw off all suggestions of warming himself by the fire or taking a mug of warm ale and left his apartments in great haste, only to find that not everyone shared his desire to regroup as quickly as possible. Despite his earlier curiosity, it appeared that the King was far from inclined to hurry, and Charles found himself pacing back and forth outside the King's apartments for almost an hour before Maria joined him, and it was nearly another hour again before she managed to persuade him to go with her to the Queen's apartments to wait for the King there.

Catherine's apartments were as dull and miserable as the weather outside. No-one played, no-one sang or read, no-one even spoke. It was a long, tiresome wait before his Majesty finally resurfaced looking clean, dry and well rested with a look of haughty defiance on his face, all but daring Charles to question why he had taken so long or to encourage him to make haste now that he had arrived. Charles bit down the frustrated complaints teetering on the tip of his tongue and merely rose to his feet and bowed to the King. All around them, Catherine's ladies began to rise and curtsey, but Henry waved a dismissive hand and impatiently bade them "As you were." The ladies all resumed their seats and took up their sewing projects once more, but Charles could see that they were all more interested in what brought the ill-tempered king to their mistress's room than in the work that they pretended to attend to.

"Well?" Henry snapped as he grew nearer to Charles. It was clear that his mood was no better than it had been outside, despite the fact that he was out of the storm and wearing fresh, clean and dry clothes. "What was it that so urgently needed my attention?"

Charles made to answer, but Maria beat him to it.

"Your Grace, her Majesty wishes to speak with you in private. She requested that Lord Brandon and I seek you out and -"

"The Queen summons me?" Henry snapped again, his voice and temper rising, causing all the ladies around them to give up on any pretence of sewing and watch him in fascinated curiosity. "Is she unwell?"

"No, your Grace."

"Is my daughter unwell?"

"No, your Grace."

"So no-one is ill, no-one is in danger, and yet she sees fit to send the two of you out to fetch me from my sport?" Henry glared at Maria, Charles was pleased to see that the Spanish noblewoman remained calm and dignified, showing no signs of concern at Henry's petulant attitude.

"Nobody is unwell, your Grace. There is no danger. But, your wife is deeply troubled and she would speak with you as soon as possible." Maria answered him matter-of-factly, emphasising the words "your wife" to ensure that the  King was reminded of the responsibility that came with being a husband - the responsibility of going to one's spouse when they are troubled and seeking to ease their mind.

Henry huffed like a sulking child, but some of his haughtiness seemed to leave him and he answered a little less aggressively when he bid Maria to take him to his wife.

It had taken Y/N most of the morning to reach as far into Lord Brandon's grounds as she had before the rain began to fall, and it took almost twice as long again to make her way back to the great house. The wind was fierce and blew so strongly that each step took enormous effort, as though she were being pushed backward by invisible hands whenever she tried to move. The rain seemed to be falling heavier with each passing moment and the weight of her sodden dress, and the unsteadiness of the waterlogged ground beneath her made those hard earned steps all the more difficult. By the time she neared the manicured gardens she felt sure that it would be almost evening, though perhaps that was only the darkness from the storm. 

"M'lady! Lady Wentworth!" A voice, muffled by the wind and rain, drew Y/N's attention and she raised her head, half closing her eyes to shield them from the rain. There, running towards her, his feet skidding on the mud, was Mr Hopkins, his dripping wet face a picture of worry and relief.

"My Lady." He panted, as he skidded to a halt before her, only barely bowing in his haste. "I have been searching for you this past 2 hours at least! We thought you had returned to the house, Mistress Farrow and I. We looked through every room trying to find you before I came out to the gardens. I cannot believe that you have been out in this dreadful storm! Were you lost, dear?"

"I am sorry for worrying you, sir." She apologised, shouting so that her companion could hear her. "I was not lost...I had not meant to cause anyone concern...I -"

"Oh, do not worry yourself, my lady, so long as you are well. Here," He had taken her arm in his, rather unceremoniously, and was helping her toward the house, as fast as the wind and slippery ground would allow. "let's get you inside, child. You'll catch you're death out here!"

Y/N allowed herself to be lead towards the walled knotgardens, glad of the support that Mr Hopkins' arm provided.

"Thank you, Mr Hopkins." She called, raising her voice though their heads were exceptionally close together. She looked at him as she spoke, taking note of the water dripping from his hair and the way that his doublet clung to him. "Oh, I am sorry...you are entirely drenched, because of me!"

"Think nothing of it, M'Lady." Mr Hopkins smiled warmly, despite looking as though he had just climbed out of the Thames. "I couldn't leave a fair maiden lost out here in such a storm, let alone the daughter of Edmund Wentworth....and besides, if I had not come out to look for you, Mistress Farrow would've had my guts for garters."

Mr Hopkins gave Y/N a playful smile and let out a bark of laughter before putting his head down against the wind and guiding her back through the gates and onto the somewhat firmer ground of the knotgarden.

*Taglist*

@xoxohannahlee

@rn7rocks

@heartfelt-pen

@october505

@itisjustwhatitis

@introvertedmoose22

@daybeedsintonightfa11

@legendarywizarddetective

@omgkatinka

@lharrietg

@mis-lil-red

@kebabgirl67

@its-the-quenchiest-stuff

@itmejado

@hauntedelation

@introvertedmouse

@edaneaya

@440mxs-wife

@areamir

@fandoms4ever97

@hipotatobitches

@moriartyslibrary

@onceitoowasinnocent

@olivia-faith

@marytudorbrandon

@kittengirl998

@miss-rebel-without-applause

@sophxwithers

@liecastillo

@swthxrry

@nxyerebus

@exo-kai15

@maan24

@pansexualpamandabear

@fallingfromheaven17

@girl-with-an-orange-cat

@realm-of-azrael

@severewobblerlightdragon

@chocotacobread

Y/N learned that Mistress Farrow was widowed, with five grown children and a host of grandchildren who were a constant source of great pride and joy to her. Mr Hopkins had explained that his own good wife usually lived and worked at Suffolk Place with himself and Mrs Farrow, but was currently staying with their daughter who was in her confinement and expecting her first child - his first grandchild - any day. Hopkins' two sons each worked for the Duke of Suffolk, like their father. The eldest son was the master of his Grace's stable at his country home in Suffolk and was entrusted with the horsemanship tutelage of the young Master Brandon - a fact that caused Mr Hopkins' chest to visibly swell with pride; for after all, a man trusted to teach the dangerous skill of horse riding to the sole heir of a Duke was a trusted man indeed. The younger Mr Hopkins, the young man named for Y/N's own father, worked in the Duke's household at court but, the lady was informed, had been away from London since the New Year so that he could care for his maternal grandfather who had taken a fall on some ice and was unable to care for himself. The old man, by all accounts, had been determined to remain in his own home some 50 miles north of London, and so Lord Brandon himself had suggested that young Edmund travel to his grandfather's home and reside with him until he was fit to live alone once more. The Duke had promised the young man that he would continue to pay him his full wage while he was staying with his grandfather and, Hopkins told Y/N with an air of indescribable gratitude, "when Ed left London, his Grace was even so good as to send him in his own carriage, with a trunk full of fine warm blankets and cushions to make the poor old chap comfortable, a vast stock of food and heaps of fire wood which Ed says they're still finishing off now, four months later."

Y/N was delightfully stunned by this account of Lord Brandon's actions for, while his treatment of her had always been most good and kind, his kindness to those so decidedly far below him truly showed his goodness of spirit and generosity of heart. She had admired and respected him beyond expression before this moment, but now those feelings were too powerful to even comprehend.

After breakfast, Jack had to return to the palace and so he bid the lady and his friends goodbye, wishing the former well with whatever business may or may not call her to her family. Mr Hopkins begrudgingly declared that he must set about his work and so Y/N, with Arawn as her second shadow, faithfully walking at the lady's heels as though he had been raised as her pet, was left to be shown around Suffolk Place by Mrs Farrow. They toured the entire house, starting from the kitchen where they had eaten, briefly visiting the pantries, cellars and larders (which, though not the place of a high-born lady, were impressive in their size, number and the craftsmanship which had gone into making them). Next, the two women entered the main parts of the house, walking through the large hallways to visit the private dining room (which held a table large enough to sit at least twelve people along with space for a small band of musicians) and the Great Hall.

The Great Hall certainly lived up to its name. The room was enormous, big enough to seat a hundred guests or more. The walls were lined with intricate, ornate and extremely valuable tapestries and the ceiling was breathtaking; a high, vaulted ceiling of fine, strong oak. The wooden beams were adorned with engravings of flora, fauna and angelic faces along with the Brandon coat of arms - all glistening with gold leaf. Y/N noticed too, that there were a number of engravings featuring the arms of the Duke's late wife; King Henry's sister.

"The Master had many renovations made to this hall when he married His Majesty's sister, God rest her soul." Mrs Farrow informed Y/N, possibly noticing where her eyes were focused. "His Grace so wanted to live up to what was expected of the husband of such a woman. He was, I believe, desperate to be seen as fit to be married to an English princess - a widowed Queen as she was, but they were not a well suited pair. Its an awful shame that she died, poor lady, but she and my master did not fit well together...they knew little in the way of happiness."

Y/N looked at Mrs Farrow with great interest, but said nothing.

"Of course his last wife, Lady Catherine, was not much better suited to him either, poor girl. She was too much a child to be a wife...and he was not settled enough in his own mind to be a good husband. He was always wanting to be away from home, larking about with the King and what have you. He cared for her sure enough, but it was no great love, not enough to bring him any peace. He seems to have calmed down somehow of late though...Matthew and I have been saying to each other this past month or two, that whenever he stops by the house, which is not infrequent though he rarely stays here overnight, he seems steadier, more grounded if you get my meaning, my lady. Tis a good change in him, Lord bless him. He's been such a good master to us all, and we've been with him a good many years now, Mr and Mrs Hopkins and myself - though Mr Hopkins has been with him longest. I know he's far above me - being a Duke and all, but I've watched him grow from a scruffy young whelp into the fine man he is today and - I'll say this to you, my lady, as you seem a good soul who's not likely to take offence at an old lady talking softly about a kind master - I can't help but feel mightily proud and protective of him. He had a difficult start in life and has risen higher than anyone could ever have guessed, he's known a great deal of loss and upset, but he's always been kind to those of us loyal to him, and he's grown mature and gentler of late. I think he'd make a fine husband now...should he choose to try his hand at it again."

Y/N listened to all this in a flood of emotion. Hearing someone so familiar with the Duke speak of his past marriages as being not right for him filled her with a strange feeling so close to pleasure as made her feel like a rotten and unfeeling creature - why should she find joy in being told that a man's past marriages have been to women quite wrong for him?

Unless it is to hope that you are the right woman? The thought – the hope - was inevitable, but she swiftly brushed it aside, she was not fit to be wife to a man such as Charles Brandon.

She also felt a tenderness toward both Lord Brandon and his faithful servant. Hearing the old woman talk of her pride and affection for her master, hearing that he had suffered and has lately grown stronger and steadier...it could all do nothing but make her care for him more, make her all the more invested in his well-being and his happiness.

"Of course, My Lady, I do hope you would be so good as to not mention any of what I've said to you to His Grace or anyone else for that matter. I've said nothing that I don't feel to be true, but its not quite proper to speak in such a way about someone so far above oneself.

"You have my word, Mistress Farrow." Y/N readily reassured her. "I have heard nothing but the well-meaning words of a loyal and caring servant, but those words shall remain between us if it is your wish."

Mrs Farrow smiled warmly and patted Y/N's hand gratefully.

"Thank you, my lady. Now, what say I show you upstairs?"

Y/N nodded, and immediately the pair - still escorted by Arawn - made their way up the wide and fabulously ornate staircase.

When they reached the top of the staircase, Mrs Farrow showed Y/N the Long Gallery; an enormous hallway stretching the entire length of the front of the house, featuring a number of large windows, two ornate fireplaces and an extravagantly carved ceiling. Aside from the array of architectural wonders, the long gallery was home to some very fine pieces of furniture, many beautiful tapestries and a selection of portraits depicting people of great importance; The King, Charles's father, his Uncle, his former wives and Charles himself.

When they reached the portrait of Charles, Mrs Farrow told Y/N that it had been painted shortly after he was made a Duke and – much to Y/N's pleasure, as it gave her more time to admire the painting- the older lady was happy to talk about the many little details in the painting. The Duke looked, Y/N thought, more boyish than he did now; he lacked the natural aura of authority that surrounded him at present, he was not so broad shouldered, and there was no sign at all of the bristle which he more frequently allowed to grow on his face these days...but he still looked like himself. The artist had captured him wonderfully; the shape of his jaw, the colour of his eyes...it was extraordinary. Y/N felt that she could have looked at that portrait for hours, but then Mistress Farrow drew her attention to the next portrait along. It was a smaller image, but the work itself was equally fine and it's frame was, despite being smaller, significantly more grand.

"What say you to this one, my lady?"

Mrs Farrow gestured to the painting with an expression of unmistakable pride and affection, and Y/N eagerly stepped closer to get a better look.

The portrait showed a young boy, no more than six or seven years of age, standing before a dark, empty background. The child looked small, cherub-like and almost comical in his large hat and grand clothes: a little boy playing at being a man. Y/N smiled softly as she looked at the child, and while she had never seen the boy before, she knew from the cornflower eyes who it must be.

“Is this Lord Brandon's son, Mrs Farrow?”

“It is my lady.” she nodded, smiling warmly. “This is Henry Brandon. The painting was only completed a few months back. He is just turned six and a half, such a handsome boy, don't you think?”

“Oh yes,” Y/N agreed. “He is a most beautiful child. What heavenly curls...such lovely eyes...”

Mrs Farrow smiled at the praise, but Y/N did not see, and after allowing the young lady another moment or two to examine the painting, she called her attention away.

“Shall we finish the tour, my lady?”

Y/N agreed, glancing once more at the portrait of Charles Brandon before following Mistress Farrow along the corridor. The remainder of the floor consisted of parlour rooms and drawing rooms, rooms which would be used for entertaining guests, though rarely saw any occupation. Another grand staircase took them to the floor which held the bed chambers; they wandered past a number of guest rooms, glancing around each as they passed, until they finally arrived at the Master's apartments.

Y/N felt her heart begin to beat a little faster as she was admitted into the most private rooms of Charles Brandon. She felt as though she were doing something slightly wrong, as though entering the rooms of such a man was inappropriate for her, but Mrs Farrow seemed to feel no such concerns and took her inside the Duke's privy chamber, where only those who were close to him – his closest friends – would enter. The room housed a magnificent fireplace, a table large enough for only 6 or so people and some very fine oak furniture, the guide showed her the master's wardrobe, a vast room filed with chests and trunks, boots and cloaks and piles of fabric and furs. Finally, there were only two rooms left, the bedroom and the library which doubled as the Duke's study.

Mrs Farrow took Y/N into the library first. It was a large room with high ceilings and another beautiful fireplace. The wall immediately across from the door housed a number of high windows with small seats build into the frames, the view from which allowed a breathtaking prospect over the gateway to the city. The other three walls housed vast bookcases filled with leather bound texts. There was a small table set out with a chess board atop it, the pieces laid out as though they had been left part way through a game, a fine, strong desk was situated close to the windows and a beautiful globe was stood on a pedestal nearby. Beside the fireplace, flanked by bookshelves, sat two large chairs, each covered with thick pillows and fine blankets. It was a delightful room, grand but practical and comfortable.

“There are a vast many books in here, My Lady,” Mrs Farrow explained, gesturing to the many volumes about the room. “Which I am sure his Grace would be happy for you to look at, his desk holds paper and writing tools if you have any need of those.”

“Thank you.” Y/N responded, somewhat absent-mindedly as she looked around her. “This is a beautiful room, is it not?”

“Oh, yes, my lady. It is one of his Grace's favourites. He spends most of his time in here when he is at home.”

Y/N smiled and imagined Charles sitting at his desk, reading beside the fire and looking out of the huge windows, but in another moment she found herself being guided out of the room and towards the Duke's bedchamber.

“This here is His Grace's own bedchamber, My Lady.” Mrs Farrow explained as she pushed open the heavy oak door and held it wide for the lady to pass through. “We shan't stay long in here, there's not a great deal to see in a bedchamber, but his bed is a magnificent sight – it cost a vast amount of money...see the engravings on the bedposts? And the real gold thread on the curtains?”

Y/N could hardly hear what Mrs Farrow was saying to her, nor could she appreciate the beauty of the bed nor the richness of its hangings, all she could think of was that she was looking now at the very bed where Charles Brandon had laid his head to rest. He had lay down upon that bed, his head had settled on those pillows.

Y/N left the room without really hearing a word about it, feeling that she was being removed from the place far too soon and yet that she should never have entered such a private space in the first place.

Following the tour of the house, Mrs Farrow had to attend her daily chores and Y/N was left to explore the grounds on her own, or rather, without human company, as Arawn stuck beside her. She wandered the paths of the beautifully planned gardens, visited the kitchen garden with all of its herbs and vegetables, took in the splendour of the house's private chapel with magnificent stained glass windows and ornately carved decorations on the walls and ceiling. She visited the stables and spent time admiring the few horses inside, and then made her way out into the wider grounds belonging to Suffolk Place, the less cultivated and more wild grounds where deer could be seen roaming peacefully amongst the trees or grazing in the long grasses.

Even underneath the steadily darkening sky, it truly was a beautiful place, a haven on the edge of the biggest and busiest city in the land.

Charles and Maria walked briskly from the Queen's apartments towards the tennis hall, the Lady rushing to keep up with her companion as his long legs vastly out paced her. He knew he should slow down, that making a lady of Mistress De Salinas' rank and stature scurry along behind him in such a manner was hardly respectful, but he could not bare to slow down. He was too eager to reach the king, too desperate to try and straighten the situation out, to save the reputation of that young lady who had become so very dear to him. When they reached the tennis courts, however, all hopes of a swift solution were snatched away. The King, he was informed, had bored of tennis and had instead rode out with his men to hunt. They had left some time ago and intended to remain gone all day.

“Well Charles, what do you suggest we do now?” Maria groaned, her hand clutching her waist as she regained her breath. "His Majesty is out in the palace grounds, it could take us hours to track him down.”

“Well, I know his favourite hunting spots, Maria, it should not take so very long to find him, especially on horseback.”

“You mean for us to ride out to find the King? To interrupt his sport and drag him back to his wife? All without being permitted to give him any reason for doing so?”

“Do you have any other suggestions?”

“We could return to the palace, await the King's return in her Majesty's chambers?”

Charles huffed and opened his mouth to argue.

“I can see that you are not impressed with my suggestion Charles, but really, would it be so very bad to wait patiently indoors...is it entirely necessary to go out chasing after the King?”

“I cannot wait idly Maria, I must do something.” he spoke in a voice both desperate and pained, tossing his arms in frustration. Maria looked at him stunned.

“Why, Charles? What makes this so terribly urgent? I know you are fond of the girl but still...”

“Fond?! I am not merely fon-" he caught himself, looking at the woman in front of him as though only now remembering to whom he was speaking. He took a deep breath and with a shake of his head, he began again. "You did not see her, Maria, when she spoke of her banishment. She was distraught, her pain – I felt it as though it were my own. I cannot rest in Catherine's fine rooms while I know that Y/ – that Lady Wentworth is somewhere in my home worrying herself sick about what is to become of her, fearing that the Queen will never believe that she is loyal to her. This girl truly took a great risk to remain loyal to Catherine when the King was trying to seduce her, and she was rewarded with distrust and betrayal and -”

“That is unfair, Charles.” Maria's voice was stern as she interrupted him. “You know what Catalina has suffered in her marriage, you know the betrayal she has lived with – she cannot be blamed for expecting more of the same!"

"Oh, I don't not blame Catherine." Charles admitted with a sigh as he leant back heavily against the wall behind him. "Not for expecting such heartache when she has known it so often before, it is natural enough, but I do blame her for abandoning her loyal lady without first looking for facts...Jane Warrington is a cold hearted, manipulative wretch just like the rest of her blasted family, the Queen should have known better than to take the words of that damned snake as gospel truth."

Maria looked like she might agree with his reasoning; her strong, proud brow was furrowed in a very visible indication of her troubled mind as she listened to him talk. Charles knew that she would not, however, admit to agreeing with him. Lady De Salinas was loyal to her Queen above and beyond all else - so much so that he often wondered whether she would turn away from Jesus Christ himself if made to choose between the saviour and her beloved Catalina. She would not voice any notion of Catherine having acted wrongly.

"It is unfortunate for the girl." She conceded, her teeth anxiously chewing at her lower lip as she thought for a moment. "Perhaps if we speak with some of the groundsmen, we may be able to gain some idea as to which direction His Majesty travelled?"

Charles stood upright again, a glimmer of hope fluttered in his chest (or rather he felt the stirring of something a little less like the utter despair which was currently gripping his heart).

"You will ride out with me to find Henry?" 

Maria nodded. "I will."

Charles grasped Maria's hand unceremoniously, gripping it tightly and kissing it gratefully.

"Thank you, Maria, thank you. You cannot fathom the relief you have given me...even if we do not find him until we are all required to return to the palace for dinner, I will be glad of having some task...waiting here would have driven me out of my mind."

Maria nodded silently, shrugging away his flurry of enthusiastic thanks and removing her hand from his as swiftly as possible before turning back to the palace.

Charles looked at her questioningly, wondering why she was walking in the opposite direction of the stables. He had no opportunity to put his curiosity into words, however, as Maria read his expression as clearly as the words in a book.

"I have said I will ride out with you, Charles, but I cannot ride as I am." She gestured towards her attire; a heavy gown of rich, luxurious silk and dainty slippers to match  - it was not an outfit for riding.

"Oh, of course..." Charles mumbled, he was eager to leave but saw the necessity of what Maria was saying. He nodded in resignation and followed his companion by towards the palace with heavy feet, praying that she would change swiftly and that the pair of them would fine the King in good time.

It took a great deal longer for Maria change from her courtly gown to her riding garb than Charles would have hoped and he felt as though he spent an eternity pacing back and forth outside her chambers waiting for her to emerge. While he was willing to admit that it may not have been an eternity, Charles was beyond frustrated to see that the sun, peering out from a sky which was more cloud than clear, was high above them, meaning it was midday already and Y/N had been living in a state of great distress for an entire morning.

Following such a delay Charles was in no mood to allow any more time to be lost and he and Maria hurried to the stables, mounted their horses in great haste and began riding out in the direction that the stable lads told them that the King had taken. Charles wanted desperately to break into a gallop and race across the acres of land in search of Henry, but he held back the urge out of respect for his companion.

The pair rode in silence for some time, eyes searching all around them for any sign of the King. The sky was growing ever darker and the wind was gaining strength and speed. Maria mumbled something about rain and returning to the palace, but Charles chose not to hear her. It was not raining yet and he would continue his hunt for as long as he possibly could. A short while later all hopes of remaining out of doors were dashed, washed away by a torrent of cold, hard rain which burst upon them so suddenly that they did not even have the opportunity to pull their hoods up before they were drenched. Charles, for his own part, would have continued searching for Henry, but he could not expect Maria to remain out in such weather, and so he reluctantly turned his horse and started back in the direction of the stables.

As they reached the open grass area, Charles and Maria spotted a large party of horsemen riding towards them from the opposite side of the grounds – there was no doubt that it was the King and his gentlemen. Charles eagerly spurred his horse on, pushing the animal into a gallop in his determination to reach Henry. Maria, as ill disposed as she was to such vigorous riding, joined him in hastening her horse – the thought of returning to her mistress's warm, dry fireside with the King and Brandon enough to brush all other qualms aside.

Upon reaching Henry, Charles noticed that his mood was as darkened as the sky above them – as the sun went, so did Henry's jovial mood. Charles could not help but wonder if this frustrated and disappointed King would be better for dealing with the current nightmare situation, or if the more calm and forgiving King who had been reigning in the sunny days just gone would have been more suitable.

Would the wet, cold and irritable Henry make an already tense and emotional situation so much harder to navigate...?

“Charles!? Where the blazes have you been all morning? And why have you now dragged Lady De Salinas out in this bloody rain?!”

…he was, he thought, about to find out.

*Taglist*

@xoxohannahlee

@rn7rocks

@heartfelt-pen

@october505

@itisjustwhatitis

@introvertedmoose22

@daybeedsintonightfa11

@legendarywizarddetective

@omgkatinka

@lharrietg

@mis-lil-red

@kebabgirl67

@its-the-quenchiest-stuff

@itmejado

@hauntedelation

@introvertedmouse

@edaneaya

@440mxs-wifee

@areamir

@fandoms4ever97

@hipotatobitches

@moriartyslibrary

@onceitoowasinnocent

@olivia-faith

@marytudorbrandon

@kittengirl998

@miss-rebel-without-applause

@sophxwithers

@liecastillo

@swthxrry

@nxyerebus

@exo-kai15

@maan24

@pansexualpamandabear

@fallingfromheaven17

@girl-with-an-orange-cat

@realm-of-azrael

You had lived in this castle your entire life, all of the royal children had lived in this castle for as long as anyone could remember. Your siblings had all left now, married and settled in kingdoms and palaces far away. Now there was only you. The last of the King's offspring - an adult, fully grown, of child-bearing age and yet you remained unwed. Oh, how glad you were to be unwed! You couldn't stand the thought of marrying a pretentious, pompous prince who you had never met. The prospect had never appealed to you, even as a child – you had always wanted to marry for love, not money or politics. In recent years the idea of such a union had gone beyond distaste and had become unbearable and you thanked the Lord each day that your father left you to live alone in your remote, isolated home while he held out for the right deal, the right prize to trade for your future. Now more than ever you knew you could never stand to be sold off to some preening peacock of a boy...how could you when you had William as your example of what a man should be?

He had come to you some years ago, when the last master of the guard had retired. He had come to be your bodyguard, the head of the small band of soldiers you had at your service. He had entered your home with all the confidence and authority of a King - his face, his stance, his swagger; all showed the power, the self-assuredness that came from years of military success. He had approached you, bowed low and kissed your hand. He had addressed you with all the deference and respect that your position required, and yet he had looked at you - he had raised his cool blue eyes to your face in an act which no common man was permitted to do. He had looked you in the eye...and smiled at you. An open, reassuring smile with a glimmer of mischievousness which immediately warmed your heart. You had liked him at once and it had not taken many weeks of him escorting you everywhere before you began to regard him as your dearest friend, and it had only taken a while longer for you to realise that he was in fact so much dearer to you than a mere friend - you adored him, you loved him and you suspected that he felt the same...although it would be years before either of you acknowledged that...years of wonderful friendship and irreplaceable memories, but years that you suddenly felt had been wasted and squandered...now that the end was coming.

"Its almost time, my love." His deep, warm voice whispered from close behind you in the first dim light before dawn. You felt his calloused fingers stroking your cheek tenderly, as though he believed he was waking you. But you had known no sleep that night.

There was no weariness in his voice, you noticed. It was soft, but alert. He, like you, had clearly not slept. You rolled over in his arms, laying your head upon his chest and looked up at him, your eyes drinking in the sight of his most beloved face - studying every scar, every line, desperate to paint the vision of him behind your eyes so that you could remember every detail for as long as you lived.

You could feel what little strength and resolve you had weakening by the second. How could you say goodbye to him? How could you leave him here to face the enemy in order to give you time to escape?

Your eyes began to prickle and sting, your throat felt thick and strangled.

"It cannot be." You murmured, ducking your head a little and planting a kiss on the bare skin over his heart. "I am not ready."

You heard him sigh above you and he ran a hand lovingly over your head, smoothing his fingers gently across your hair.

"Everything is prepared, dearest...your travelling clothes are laid out, your most valuable possessions are on their way to your father's palace...the stable lads have been told to ensure that the horses are ready at a moments notice - "

You placed another kiss against his chest before looking up at him and your stinging eyes met his.

"I did not mean - "

Your William smiled at you. It was a sad smile, heartbreaking in its beauty and pain.

"I know, Love." He sighed, his fingers running up and down the soft skin of your back and shoulders. "...but it is easier to think about the practical arrangements, rather than..."

"Will, I cannot..." you interrupted as one or two of those tears which had been burning your eyes finally broke free, running silently down your cheeks. You shook your head mutely as he kissed your face.

"You must." He said. His voice firm but filled with affection. "You must be safe."

"But what good is it to be safe if you - " you could not bring yourself to finish the sentence, to say the words that so haunted your mind.

"I am nobody, my darling. You are the daughter of the King. If I die in battle, nobody will bat an eye - " you opened your mouth to argue, sitting upright and gazing down at him in pained indignation as the blankets tumbled down about your waist.

If he were to...die...the world may continue turning as though little had happened, but for you it would stop entirely. Your heart would break, your soul would crumble, the sun and stars would lose all light. How could he imagine that you could carry on without him?

He did not allow you time to find any strength to speak these thoughts, instead he rose up in the bed to face you, his big, strong hands took hold of your trembling arms, gripping you as he spoke.

"Whatever becomes of me matters not in the grand scheme of the world, my love, I am here to fight, to die if needed...but you are the King's daughter. You must be protected."

"Will, I do not want to be protected if it means being without you. I want to stay here with you. I would rather - "

"Darling. You must be kept safe. As a young man, many moons ago, I swore to protect the King and all his heirs, an oath I am honour bound to withhold...and then I came here. I came to your castle all those years ago and made that same oath again, in your presence. And, as I swore aloud to protect you and your home as well as the King and the Kingdom, I swore to myself, in my heart, that I would live the rest of my days only to protect you. My heart, my soul, my life became yours from the moment I entered this building and I will give them all to keep you safe. You must go, my love. You must be safe."

You wanted to argue with him, to tell him that your life, your heart, all that you were depended on him as much as he depended on you, but he silenced you before you even began. His hands, still holding onto your arms, now pulled you closer to him as his lips took yours in a kiss that was filled with desperate emotion. You did not try to stop him to have your say. What use was talking at this moment? Who knew what the coming day would bring; if either of you would live or die, if you would ever be together again. You wrapped your arms around his neck and allowed him to lift you until you were seated across him and you lost yourself in him as the sun rose above the mountains outside the window.

When you once again lay side by side, limbs interlocked, hearts beating rapidly, breath heavy but slowing now that you were resting once more, he wrapped you in his arms and whispered love and praise and thanks in your ear and you clung to him and wept in silent, but unrestrained grief. You wished that the sun would halt in the sky, that it would never go any higher above the mountain tops than it was now, that the sky would never again change from the purple, pink and orange that you could see through window...you wanted everything to stop so that you could stay with him forever. But, the earth does not stop turning to please a mortal, even a princess, and your last peaceful moments with him were shattered by a heavy pounding and panicked cry from beyond the chamber door.

"Master Regal! Master Regal! They have been spotted...they are near! They will be here within the hour!"

William shot up like an arrow, lifting you with him as he moved, setting you gently on your feet and kissing you swiftly.

"Dress, my love. There is no time to lose." He whispered, his eyes showing an urgency which told you how close you all were to danger. He grabbed his breeches and pulled them on as he strode towards the door and, without opening it, shouted to the man on the other side. "Go to the stables, tell them to ready the horses! Prepare the men! I am coming."

He turned back towards you as you were fastening the simple maid's dress which was to be your disguise. You noticed, as he paced towards you, that his face was paler than usual.

"We must get you away from here as soon as possible. I will fetch the maid." He made to walk away but you reached out for him, your hand groping desperately for his.

"Will..." you began, your voice trembling as the moment of parting thundered down on you.

"Do not be afraid, my love." He murmured, tilting your face towards his with his free hand and kissing you deeply. "I will not allow any harm to come to you."

He waited for no response. He pulled on his boots and grabbed a shirt from atop the dresser, tugging it over his head as he walked towards the door.

"I am going to find the maid, I will be right back."

He left the room and you hurriedly pulled on your riding boots; old, worn out and ill fitting, borrowed from a maid who had already been sent away to safety. You were to disguise yourself as a simple country girl, a woman of no rank or importance. Your were to travel on horseback with only one other maid, and make your way to the safety of the city two days ride from your own quiet home.

Once dressed, you rushed to the chest in the corner of the room and took out your bow and a quiver of arrows. Your heart ached as you held the smooth wood in your hands; it had been a gift from William, for your birthday just this year. He had made it with his own hands, carved his initials and yours into the wood where your hand held it when shooting. He had showed this to you and then wrapped soft leather over the top so that no-one would see the hidden engraving, but you would always know it was there. It had been a gift made with love and designed to use for enjoyment and the two of you had spent many happy hours outdoors, aiming at various targets in friendly competition. Now it was no longer an item of sport...now it was a weapon, one which may very well save your life.

William burst back into the room, the poor maid scurrying along behind him looking sick with fear.

"Are you ready, princess?" He asked. His tone and attitude formal now that there was a witness to your interaction. Nobody in the castle knew that you were lovers. It had been fairly easy to hide the fact- with him as your personal bodyguard, there was never any question as to why he was always at your side, or why he spent every night in your chamber. You hated that this parting, one which may be your final parting, would now need to be restrained.

"I am." You nodded, your voice only a little strained as you fought to be strong.

"Very good, my lady." He nodded briskly. "Then let us go, we have no time to lose."

He turned from the room, and you and the maid followed closely behind.

The three of you walked hurriedly and silently, though the entire castle was filled with the noise of men shouting and weapons clanging as they were moved from place to place. Nobody paid you any attention as you passed them by. Everyone believed you had already left, bar William and the maid - a young woman that you had never met until the night before when she was plucked from the kitchens to stay behind when the rest of the women were sent away, along with a maid disguised as yourself. The men who remained were told that two girls had been asked to stay to help with food, but would leave when things got too dangerous, and so that is what they now believed was happening.

You kept your hood pulled down around your face and followed William out towards the stables. He fastened your small bag to the saddle as the maid climbed onto the horse prepared for her. A man ran outside, and William turned to face him, taking a few strides back towards him, and away from you. The man was panting, you heard him telling his commander that the enemy was nearer, that they could be seen on the horizon.

"You must go!" Will yelled to you, gesturing to the man beside the gate to open it ready. "Now!"

The panicked maid was already turning her horse, tears staining her fearful face. You found yourself turning to mount your horse - William's horse, actually, as your own was currently being ridden by a maid in your clothing - but you stopped before you could swing your leg over the saddle and dropped back to the ground.

"Hurry!" the maid squealed, her eyes wide as she watched you turn from your mount.

"What are you doing?!" Will yelled, "You need to go!"

You looked at him from beneath your hood and frantically shook your head, running across the stable towards him and throwing yourself against his board chest, wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your lips against his in one last, urgent kiss. You felt his arms wrap around you, lifting you off of your feet and pulling you tightly against him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, not caring that there were men and the maid nearby, only caring that this could be the last time you would see your William and being determined that you would leave him as his lover, not as though you were a stranger.

"I love you, my dearest, dearest Will. I love you with all my heart." You breathed against his lips, holding back sobs. "You are my greatest treasure, the most wonderful thing to happen to me."

"I love you too, my angel." He answered, his voice, for the first time beginning to break with emotion. "You are everything, my darling, everything." He kissed you again and again, pinning you against him in his strong, safe arms, as he walked back towards his horse and set you on your feet.

"I will find you, dearheart." He promised, holding your hooded face between his enormous hands and kissing you firmly. "I swear upon my soul that, if I am living I will come to you....but now you must go."

And with that, he lifted you with the greatest of ease and placed you in the saddle. You looked down at him and felt as though your heart was shattering in your chest. Then a trumpet horn blared somewhere in the distance and a roar of battle hungry men sounded out. They were dangerously close.

"I love you." You told him, your voice barely making its way from your throat, choked as you were by pain and dread.

"I love you, my princess." He whispered, squeezing your hand tightly and stepping back from you.

"Now go!" William ordered, "Do not stop."

Reluctantly, you turned the horse and rode out of the castle gate...and away from him.

You and the maid galloped across the fields, rushing away from the only home you had ever lived in, and the only love you had ever known - or ever wanted to.

You rode hard, determined to fulfil his orders and ride to safety and wait for him in the city...but then the air was split with a thunderous crack and your could hear the distant roar of men shouting and the sickening clang of metal upon metal as their swords clashed.

You pulled your horse to a halt and your companion stopped with you.

"They have breached the gate, my lady....the enemy are in the castle." The young woman's voice shook with fear and sadness and your entire body shook likewise.