Title: St. Patrick's Day Eve
Author: Forever Fan
Rating: T
Spoilers: none
Category: Romance/Supernatural
Disclaimer: This property belongs to David Gerber Productions and FOX Television. Lyrics of Cole Porter used with deep respect but without permission. I make no profit and intend no infringement.
Summary: A trip to England for a wedding. But who's getting married?
Last of a holiday series of stories. It may help to read the stories in order.
Feedback: Yes, please
The flight from California to New York had been tiring enough, but the transatlantic leg of the journey from New York to London seemed to be taking forever. The kids' enthusiasm had worn off despite the excitement of their overnight stay in New York City. Riding the subway, taking a whirlwind tour of the city and seeing a Broadway play seemed to have taken a toll. The kids had been uncharacteristically cranky at the airport, but at least they were all asleep now. Sprawled across three seats they were a mess of limbs and blankets and finally seemed peaceful on the overnight flight.
Trying to read the book he had brought, Harold Everett scowled at the page and thought maybe the children were just reacting to his mood. The last month had been one of the most difficult, stressful periods of his life, and the worst part was just beginning. On Valentine's Day Phoebe had announced she was breaking their hours-old engagement to return to England to marry Cholmondeley Featherstonehaugh. In many ways it had been a worse blow than his wife's death. Mary had been ill for a long time, and he had been prepared for her death. Although it had been devastating, her death had been inevitable. However, Phoebe's leaving seemed to be her choice, and no matter how many times she had tried to explain that she had no real say in the matter; he couldn't yet find it in his heart to completely forgive her.
Intellectually he understood that her family and Cholmondeley's were the providers of stability and wealth for an entire community. If their "business in blood" contract wasn't fulfilled through their marriage covenant the lives of thousands could be ruined. But rationally he just couldn't understand it. How could any community, in the late twentieth century, be tied to an archaic, medieval system that honored such a thing as a "business in blood" arrangement? How could such a thing exist for centuries, with not one modern-day mind ever attempting to bring things up to date? The whole thing was insanity, and the fact that he was somehow expected to sit back and accept her betrothal wasn't something he was able to do with good grace.
In his usual practical minded way Hal had researched this type of "contract" and even consulted a university expert in ancient cultures. He had found this kind of thing was rare but not unheard of, except it was a system thought extinct. The anthropologist Hal had consulted thought it fascinating and asked more questions than he had answered. He had even gone so far as to tell Hal that he envied his opportunity to visit such a culture and to experience their customs in person. Leaving the man's office he thought he may have found it interesting too if he were reading about it in "Smithsonian" magazine, but not when it affected his private life.
Hal looked up from the page he hadn't turned in thirty minutes to note that Phoebe had fallen asleep in the seat next to him. Watching her still features, he wasn't sure if he was glad she was resting, or angry that she could sleep when he was still so upset. Vaguely he wondered how much sleep he had gotten in the past month. He had been spending more time at work and secluded in his home office; however, it seemed between being angry with her, avoiding her, and desiring her he hadn't done anything but think of her. They had talked this thing to death, and he had reluctantly agreed to come to England to visit her village and see what she was describing to him first hand. He trusted she was telling him the truth, and he wasn't certain seeing the facts in this case was going to give him any peace. Looking away from her beautiful face, he realized his hurt and anger was likely to continue for a very, very long time.
His children seemed to sense all of what was happening. He wanted to believe that he and Phoebe had kept their relationship a secret from them, but the kids had noticed the lingering looks and the frequent touches. They had even made comments to him that they wanted him to get married again and that they wanted more brothers and sisters. The children knew about their New Year's Eve date, and seemed to leave them alone during the long winter evenings. They adored Phoebe, and Hal knew they would have all been very happy to have her as their mother. Of course they were terribly upset to be losing her now, and didn't find him a source of support to them in their sadness. Maybe that was why they didn't seem to be acting like themselves now. No, that wasn't entirely true. The children were acting as they had in the months after Mary's death when he had been emotionally unavailable to them in dealing with their loss. He now knew that as hard as he was taking the loss of another woman he loved, he hadn't fully realized how difficult it was for them to lose their "mother" for a second time. What kind of a father did that make him?
"You are a wonderful father," Phoebe said quietly.
Hal turned to see her looking at him with smoky blue eyes. In the dim lights of the cabin, she looked as soft and vulnerable as she had on all of those evenings they had spent alone in front of the fire. Her hair was messy against the headrest, and she was close enough for him to breathe in her delicate lavender scent. Not for the first time, he thought it probably hadn't been a good idea for them to travel together. The close quarters, the fun sightseeing…they had been mistaken for a family several times. And each time someone referred to her as his wife, it brought him a fresh stab of pain.
"I'm sorry," she said the hundredth or the thousandth time in a month. "I thought it would be best for the children if I spent as much time with them as I could."
Over the years he had become accustomed to her gentle intuitions but now when she anticipated his thoughts it hurt him. What had been so difficult to understand and get used to was now something he didn't know how he would manage to live without. Torn between his hurt and anger and his deep love for her he didn't trust saying anything. Not sure if it was the right thing to do, he reached for her hand.
The touch was charged. They hadn't touched in so long that all of their restrained emotions seemed alive in the meeting of their fingertips. She closed her eyes against the powerful waves of feelings, and he knew he should pull away, but couldn't. What was passing between them didn't seem real to him; it was arousing and calming, the way she had always affected him. She opened her eyes and he thought he could see a flash of silvery light there when suddenly he heard in his mind… always…
"Don't." Hal pulled his hand from hers abruptly. He caught the hurt in her face before he turned away.
"Sir?" the stewardess was bending over them. "Would you or your wife like a beverage?"
Speechless, he stared at the woman.
Phoebe answered for them. "Nothing now, Miss. Thank you."
They spent the rest of the flight in sleepless silence.
XXXXXXXXX
They had been met at the airport by the family chauffeur. The drive from London to Plymouth was over three hours to the south, but the scenery was breathtaking. Phoebe explained they were passing through some of the most fertile land in all of Great Britain. She described Devon was the only county to have two coasts, and that some of the most beautiful beaches in the world were only a short drive from her family's estate. Her descriptions of the cliffs, the moors and the history of the area made the long drive pass quickly. The children listened raptly and asked many questions. As usual, their nanny seemed to make any story animated and come alive for them. Butch and Prudence were particularly interested in the local lore about haunted places while young Hal was more interested in how the rural Celts in the area had been largely unchanged during the Roman invasion. He would be studying ancient Rome in school after the spring break, and it was typical for him to study subjects ahead of the curriculum. Their father participated in the discussion, and tried to match the children's enthusiasm, all the while resisting his emotional response to Phoebe's soft, musical voice and the charm of her tales.
"There is a lovely sheep farm that was part of the Duke of Somerset's estate, near the village of Berry Pomeroy. The area is famous for its haunted castle…"
"Nanny…" Hal began in a warning tone.
"Quite right, Professor," she said quickly. Then she told the children: "There are so many stories about haunted areas and ghostly happenings and I can't remember any one that has been proved true."
"Exactly," he said, nodding to his children.
"Of course, I can't remember any one that has been proved false, either."
Prudence giggled and Butch grinned. Their brother just rolled his eyes.
The car turned and began its journey down another long ribbon of road. When the family looked out of the car windows, each child made an audible gasp.
"Oh, Nanny," Prudence breathed, "it's just like in a fairy story!"
"Wow!" Butch was wide eyed.
"Is this the place?" Hal asked, leaning across his brother to stare out of the window at the rolling green hills.
"Yes," Phoebe smiled at them. "This is the village. We're home."
Wide stretches of farmland seemed to go on endlessly in all directions. Soft blankets of emerald fields were full of cows, sheep and horses grazing peacefully. Small barns dotted the countryside, and in the distance were groves of fruit trees and plowed lands. As the car followed the downward slope of the road, in front of them they could see a grouping of white buildings that was the village. To the east was a cluster of low structures with active smoke stacks.
"That's the candy factory," Phoebe pointed in the distance. "Open your windows."
Doing as instructed, the scent of chocolate immediately filled the inside of the car. The grinning children took deep breaths of the sweet smelling air.
"A candy factory!" Butch sniffed. "I'm getting hungry."
Prudence climbed on Phoebe's lap. "This really is a fairyland. Can we stop and get some chocolate now?"
"No, Darling," her nanny replied, "we're going home for lunch now, but maybe we can visit tomorrow. Besides, I can assure you there will be candy at the house."
The car turned again and drove beneath a canopy of trees. Hal could see a large stately home before them that on closer view seemed to be more like a castle than a manor. Crossing another wide field, they drove through a hedged area, circled a huge, sparkling fountain, and then stopped in front of the stairs leading to a wooden double door.
The children stared open-mouthed at the house. Hal had to admit to feeling shock himself.
Astonished, he asked Phoebe. "This is your family home?"
"Yes," she smiled at him as the chauffeur opened the car door for her. "Welcome home."
As the family exited the car, the front doors of the manor were thrown opened and they were met with excited barks and shouts. Two auburn haired Irish setters bounded towards them followed by a middle-aged couple and a young, petite woman.
"Phoebe, darling!" The man shouted. He rushed down the stairs to her and lifted her off of her feet in a huge embrace. Although he was nearly as wide as he was tall, the gray haired, ruddy faced man looked like Phoebe's Uncle Alfred in every other way. She had all but admitted to Hal that Uncle Alfred was not a blood relative, but the resemblance was uncanny. The woman next to him had graying blond hair, and her lovely, delicate features gave her away as no one else but Phoebe's mother. She waited patiently until her husband had finished his effusive hugs and kisses, then took her daughter into her arms.
"My precious Phoebe," Mrs. Figalilly held her closely and the swell of tears was in her voice. After a moment she released her and the sweet-faced, fair younger woman reached to embrace Phoebe.
"Mother, Father, Cecily," Phoebe stood back and indicated the Everett family. "This is Professor Harold Everett, and his children: Hal, Butch and Prudence. Professor, children, these are my parents Anthony and Rose Figalilly and my dear sister Cecily."
Hal stepped forward and offered his hand to Phoebe's father, "Mr. Figalilly."
Anthony pumped his hand. "Pleased to meet you, son. Pleased to finally meet you and welcome you to our home. We've heard a lot about you from various family members and of course, our Phoebe here."
"Yes," Rose came forward and took his hand gently. "So wonderful you could come and bring your lovely children." She looked with affection at the three young blonds. "We'd hoped to meet you sooner, given what the family has told us."
Hal laughed. "Well, I've certainly enjoyed meeting any member of the Figalilly family."
"Including the clinkers?" Anthony asked.
"Father!" Phoebe admonished, taking his arm. "You are getting as bad as Uncle Horace."
Cecily reached out a hand to Hal. "I'm very happy to meet you and your children, Professor Everett."
He nodded. "I'm very glad to meet you, Cecily. I had no idea Nanny…ah, Phoebe, had a sister."
"Keeping me a secret, Phoebe?" She grinned at her sister and then looked at the children. "I can imagine you are all very hungry after your long trip. What would you say to some lunch? I'm sure Phoebe has told you we always have candy in the house."
Noting the children's enthusiastic nods, Phoebe told them, "First we get settled into your rooms and have a nice, nutritious lunch. Then you can have some candies." She leaned down to vigorously pet the two dogs that had settled at her side. "And you can get to know Alfredo and Violetta after lunch."
As the chauffeur carried the bags into the house he was met by a uniformed butler and maid. Anthony and Rose led the way indoors, and Cecily ushered in the children to show them to their rooms. Phoebe turned to see Hal's inquisitive expression.
"Mother and Father are opera fans," she explained.
"That's not it," he said, "I had no idea your family was so…so…"
"Eccentric?"
"No," he shook his head as he walked up the stairs beside her. "I expected that. But this house and all of this land…titled gentry?"
She smiled. "You lived with a Lady for two years and never knew it."
"No," he smiled back and it felt so good to share a warm moment again, "I always knew you were a lady."
XXXXXXXXX
After an extravagant lunch, Phoebe and Cecily escorted the Everett's around the farm. The dogs loped along as they toured the large dairy barns, and the children loved the chance to ride the horses. Everyone saddled up and Cecily led the way over the fields towards the orchards. She explained that the farm supplied most of the raw materials for the candy factory, including the fruits they produced. Some fruits were also used for the flavored liqueur chocolate centers.
Hal turned to Phoebe. "You mean this factory produces that candy?"
"What candy, Dad?" Butch asked. His father flushed and ignored him.
"Yes," Phoebe answered, keeping her eyes on her horse's reins. "The F&F candy is produced here."
"Figalilly and Featherstonehaugh," Cecily supplied.
"Mr. Feathers?" Prudence asked.
"Is it his candy factory?" Hal said, voicing his sister's and brother's question.
Cecily nodded. "The farm and the factory are the main source of employment in the village. Without our businesses there would be no income for over 2,500 people. And what we don't produce, like cocoa and sugar cane, we import. Our import contracts provide work for hundreds of others around the world. And our export contracts employ thousands of others. We are a rather modest endeavor, and these family-owed, family-run organic farms are quickly becoming a thing of the past. If we can't continue, the economic and environmental effects would be devastating. I'm sure Phoebe has explained this to you."
Hal looked at Phoebe and sighed. "She explained what she felt she needed to."
"What happens if you lose the farm?" Hal's eldest son asked.
"If our contract is dissolved, the company that is threatening to buy us out will use single-crop agriculture and eventually ruin our soil." Cecily continued, "Their use of chemical fertilizers and pesticides will pollute our land, our water supply and our air. And the villagers they will reemploy to work the farm and the factory will be paid a fraction of the salaries they are currently making, with no chance of comparable medical or pension benefits."
"Gee," Butch said. "Why would you lose your contract?"
"The contract is a very old agreement since the time our people first settled in this area. There are certain things that must be done to uphold it," Cecily glanced at her sister, "and certain sacrifices that must be made to protect the community."
"You sound as if you know a lot about it," young Hal said to her.
"I'm one of the very few people who can read the contract in the old language," she told the Everett family. "I've been involved in negotiations with our solicitors and the executives of the outside company. Working for the family, I help to make the contracts with all of our employees and importers."
"Gee," Butch said again. "I guess you know all about the farm. How come you didn't travel around like Nanny did?"
Cecily looked around the farm and sighed wistfully. "I've always loved it here. All Figalilly's love it here." Turning to her sister, she said, "And now you and Cholmondeley will live here on the farm with Mother and Father and me."
"You're going to live here now, Nanny?" Prudence asked.
"Right here, Darling." Phoebe looked around with a sparkle of tears in her eyes. "Right here where I was born."
XXXXXXXXX
Cholmondeley Featherstonehaugh had already arrived when everyone returned from exploring the farm in the late afternoon. He came with boxes of candy: fruit filled ones for the children and liqueur filled ones for the adults. The high tea that was served was nearly as extravagant as lunch, and the Devonshire clotted cream was a rich and delicious treat, especially for the American guests.
"You can't have cream fresher than from the Figalilly farm," Cholmondeley said, while helping himself to more cream. "Anthony, I think your cows are the happiest ones in all of Devon."
Prudence giggled while balancing her cup of cocoa on a saucer. She had a smear of white cream above her lips.
"They might not be giggling, my girl, but they are happy," Anthony said to Prudence with a wink.
"Can we visit the candy factory tomorrow?" Butch asked Cholmondeley as he bit into a scone.
"I would be honored if you would," he included all three children and their father in his invitation. "It will also give you a chance to tour the entire village before the party tomorrow night."
"Party?" Hal asked.
"Yes, old man," Cholmondeley told him. "There's a dress party tomorrow night as a sort of formal wedding announcement. Didn't Phoebe tell you?" Looking from one to the other and noting Phoebe's guilty expression he said, "No worries. We'll find something appropriate for you to wear."
"Don't tell me," Hal was saying to Cholmondeley but looking at Phoebe, "it's…"
"…an old family tradition," Cholmondeley supplied.
"We hope it to be a lovely party," Rose said, fussing with the teapot, "but unfortunately, the children cannot attend."
At their disappointed look, a voice from the doorway announced, "Well, the party is much too late for growing children to still be awake. And when those children have been stuffing themselves with scones and candy all day they need to go to bed right after their supper."
A small, white-haired, lady leaning on a cane came into the room. "Phoebe, why are these children not resting after such a long day of travel?"
Phoebe jumped to her feet and rushed to the elderly woman. "Nanny Belle!" she cried and hugged her tightly. "I didn't know…"
"Do you think I'd miss the wedding of my darling Phoebe?" The woman's twinkling blue eyes smiled up at the younger woman as she studied her face. "You are so much in love, my dear."
"Children," Phoebe ignored the comment and turned to her three young charges. "This is Nanny Belle. She was my and Cecily's nanny when we were children."
"Now, don't you children think I can't still spot a misbehaving youngster," she said wagging her finger at them. "Those two girls were naughty enough to teach me a thing or two about children."
The children all grinned at one another and Hal smiled.
Clearing her throat self-consciously, Phoebe said to her, "I had no idea you would be here."
"Well, we knew you would love to see her, and we couldn't resist surprising you" her father said winking again.
"And Nanny Belle was always so wonderful with children," her mother said smiling at the older woman.
"Oh, yes. So don't you children mind, we'll have a nice time without going to the party tomorrow. Children and aged nannies ought to be in bed by then anyway." She slowly made her way across the room. "Now, I want to see your groom, Phoebe."
Cholmondeley stood to greet the woman, but she passed him and approached where Hal was sitting. "My dear," she said, taking his hand, "I know you love my Phoebe very much and will make her very happy. I wish you a long and joyous life together."
"No, no, Nanny Belle," Cholmondeley told her quickly, taking her arm. "I am Phoebe's groom. Don't you remember? I am Cholmondeley."
"Cholmondeley? Yes, I know you." The elderly woman peered at him. Then she looked at Hal. Shaking her head she said, "There must be some mistake."
"No, Nanny," Cecily came to her side. "Cholmondeley is Phoebe's betrothed. They are getting married on Friday."
"Cecily," the woman said looking at her and then at her sister. "I understand, my sweet. And there is some mistake."
"Come along, Nanny dear," Rose gently took her by the shoulder to lead her out of the room. "We'll have Charles bring your tea to your room so you can rest."
XXXXXXXXX
The visit to the candy factory was fun for the children and thought provoking for Hal. As he looked around at the hard-working candy manufacturers, he also remembered the many farm hands he had seen the day before. All of the people they had seen were friendly and appeared healthy and happy. During the tour, Hal could see they all appeared to genuinely enjoy their jobs. These were men and women with homes and families just like his, and the loss of their livelihoods could be a blow from which they might never recover. He knew what happened when communities were hit with joblessness and underemployment. And the air was so clean and the skies were so clear that it was difficult to believe such a large factory – or farm for that matter – had no negative effects on the environment. As he met these charming village inhabitants he didn't want to imagine the consequences to their lives should a large international company take over the area.
After the factory, Phoebe suggested they take a long walk through the village. Everywhere they looked the town was decked for the week-long St. Patrick's Day festival. Storybook as it appeared it had as many modern facilities as any larger town. There was a hospital, a municipal center, a recreation center, and a library. It also supported a post office, a small police department and a volunteer fire department. As they walked they saw the church and the schools, as well as many pubs and shops, and a beautiful local theatre. Phoebe explained there was quite an active community theatre, as well as many choral groups and bands. The small village center park also provided a place for outdoor concerts and performances, and many were scheduled that week. Again, the villagers all met them with warmth and serenity. Hal was finding it hard to imagine this place as anything other than the idyllic setting that it was and most likely always had been.
The day was cool but sunny, so they stopped in the center park to have a picnic. In the trunk of their car was the lunch Nanny Belle had insisted on packing for them, as well as a kite to occupy the children. Phoebe remarked how her nanny had always been keen on children getting lots of exercise, especially when they had just visited a candy factory. So after lunch all three children played vigorously with the kite in the brisk wind, their cheeks rosy and glowing.
Watching them from his seat on the blanket, Hal said, "I see now why you wanted me to come here. From home, it was easy not to care about these people, about their lives. From home, it was easy to only see how this situation would only affect me…affect us. But being here and realizing what could happen to this entire community…it would be a terrible injustice."
"I knew you would understand if you saw for yourself what was happening. The reality of what was at stake." Phoebe's voice was reflective. "I know you and I share the same values of honoring our society as well as our family. Fulfilling our responsibilities and not living only for our own happiness."
"Our own happiness," he echoed, looking at her. She was watching the children with sadness and longing in her eyes. The wind in her hair and the pink of her cheeks made her appear carefree, but he knew better. Still, she looked as if she belonged here. She had an easy way with the people here, and they had an easy way with her. Phoebe's status in the community, her wealth, her title, didn't seem to matter to the people who would stop her on the street to greet her happily. Although she always seemed at home anywhere, here she was truly home.
"I'm sorry," Hal whispered. "I'm sorry for making you feel so badly about doing what you know is right."
"If there was any possible way…" Phoebe began. Her eyes met his, and in their impossible blue he read her regret, and her love.
XXXXXXXXX
Hal stood in front of the dresser mirror and tried again to tie his tie. He didn't know if it was nervousness or just reluctance that made this simple task so difficult tonight. Facing a room full of Figalilly's as well as other people he didn't know was bad enough, but if this was a dry run for how he would feel on Phoebe's wedding day, he didn't know if he would last until Friday. Yanking on the tie again, he tried one more time, unsure if he felt gratitude or irritation that Cholmondeley had managed to find him a perfectly fitting tuxedo. Rationally he knew the other man was as much caught in this situation as he was, but that didn't stop him from wanting to strike out at him. After all, Cholmondeley was going to marry the woman he loved, and whether or not he was doing so willingly didn't make circumstances any better.
"Need some help, Dad?" His son Hal appeared in his bedroom doorway.
"Probably, but I'll get this eventually," he left the tie alone for a moment and concentrated on fastening his cuff links.
"Looking good, Dad," Butch remarked coming into the room with Prudence. He flopped on the bed next to his brother.
"Your room is pretty, Daddy," Prudence said, looking around.
"What? Oh yeah," her father said. The room was lavish. Plush tapestries on the walls, a king sized canopy bed, an overstuffed sofa and chair and a private bath. Hal wondered what on earth the master bedroom looked like if this was a guest room.
"We're in the nursery," Butch complained, making a distasteful face. "I guess its o.k., just a little babyish and girly."
"Well, I like it," his sister protested. "It's got lots of flowers."
"Nice tux, Dad," Hal said. "Are you going to wear it to the wedding?"
"I don't think so."
"Aren't you going to give Nanny away?" Butch asked.
"That's for her daddy to do," Prudence corrected him. "Am I right, Daddy?"
Hal swallowed hard. He'd almost forgotten he had agreed to give Phoebe away at her wedding to Cholmondeley last fall. That seemed so very far away now. How had he ever thought he could manage that? How did he think he could manage tonight? Or ever get through her wedding?
"Daddy?" His daughter was waiting for an answer.
"Yes Darling, that's for her daddy to do. Now you kids get back up to the nursery and don't give Nanny Belle any trouble."
Prudence kissed him goodnight and the kids trooped out obediently. He finished with his cuff links and finally managed to tie his tie correctly. Glancing at himself once more in the mirror, he thought back to the last time he had worn a tuxedo and the way Phoebe had looked at him that night. If he had known what was coming, he would have run away with her on New Year's Eve and found the nearest preacher.
He headed down the long staircase and saw the wide foyer full of guests. Live music was playing, and men and women in evening dress were milling about greeting one another. The last party he had attended was the Christmas Eve party he had hosted for the mathematics department faculty. That party had been trying, although Phoebe had made it perfect. However, that party was a fraction of the size and a fraction of the difficulty this party threatened to be for him. He steeled himself, and taking a deep breath made it the rest of the way down the stairs.
Cecily met him at the bottom of the staircase, and took his arm. That was fortunate because the next thing he saw nearly made him sway on his feet. Phoebe and Cholmondeley were standing in the foyer meeting guests as they arrived. Seeing them together in formal wear, the sudden impact of the purpose of this party hit Hal with force. This was a party to announce their wedding, a wedding that would take place in three days. A wedding that would take place on the day that he had chosen to be the day of his wedding to Phoebe. And there she was, looking beautiful and calm next to the man who would be her husband, while Hal stood just staring at her. He felt like an outsider, as far away from her as if he had never met her. Not the man who had held her in his arms and loved her, not the man who had lived with her and had been engaged to marry her for the most wonderful day of his life. This was a woman he didn't know, and a woman who belonged here, in this home, with another man.
Then Phoebe looked up and saw him. Her gaze sparked silver for a second and her pink lips parted. He knew the sweetness of those lips, knew her eager kiss and her spellbinding arms. She looked stunning tonight in her azure silk, but he knew her beauty in a pink and white dressing robe, or in an everyday blouse and skirt. He loved her and wanted her, and her eyes told him she loved him forever. Her gaze held the same desire for him as when she first saw him in a tuxedo or when she had looked at him in the firelight.
"Hal?" Cecily pulled at his arm. "Let's greet Mother and Father and go into dinner. We can meet Phoebe and Cholmondeley later."
He allowed himself to be led away by the gentle Cecily. Glancing down at her face, he saw the same look of pain and longing he knew was etched in his own features.
XXXXXXXXX
If it was possible for a seven course gourmet meal to taste like sawdust, it was possible tonight. Hal sipped at his wine glass, his water glass, and eventually his champagne glass, but still his throat remained dry. The tie he had such problems with earlier threatened to strangle him now. He wanted to leave, needed to go, and how and to where he escaped seemed unimportant. As he looked around at the charming and fashionable company, he wanted to shout at all of them. What was happening here was a fraud; they needed to reject the archaic agreement their ancestors had cursed them with, and they needed to fight the terrible menace to their community. Forcing an arranged marriage on two people who didn't love each other and keeping apart two people who did love each other was as medieval a torture as the iron maiden. And the torment of being part of this charade was almost too much to bear for the honest and pragmatic man he was.
"I have another toast," Anthony Figalilly was saying. Standing, he held his hand out to Phoebe. She stood to join her father at the head of the table.
"When my darling Phoebe was born, she was betrothed in marriage to our dear Cholmondeley. There was a party on that day, quite similar to this one actually, except with even more drinking." He paused as the gathered group laughed, but his bright blue eyes were on his daughter. "And on that day I bought something for my firstborn, something to give to her on the day of her wedding announcement for her wedding day."
He picked up a small box and handed it to Phoebe. She opened it and her breath caught. Her father removed a lovely ring, and slipped it onto the ring finger of her right hand.
"This sapphire is the exact color of my Darling's blue eyes. The diamonds are for her sparkle. I knew on her wedding day she would need to wear something blue, and that is this ring." Anthony picked up Phoebe's hand and kissed it. "Be happy, Darling."
With tears in her eyes and a tremor in her voice, she embraced him tightly and said, "Thank you, Daddy."
"And now," he continued, "Let's all enjoy some dancing. This is a party after all!"
People gathered in a large room off the dining area that could only be called a ballroom. The music was inviting and couples paired off and began to dance. Hal escorted Cecily onto the floor, and she silently agreed to a dance. Scanning the room, he could see that Mr. and Mrs. Figalilly were dancing; while Phoebe seemed to be deep in conversation with a woman he didn't know. As he glided Cecily around the floor, he didn't take his eyes off of Phoebe.
"That's our Aunt Paulette," Cecily told him. "She's usually on a cruise somewhere, so it's actually quite nice she could make it for the wedding."
"Hmmm," Hal acknowledged.
After a moment, Cecily said, "You're staring."
"What?" He looked down at her.
"You're staring at Phoebe."
"Oh." Continuing to watch Phoebe, he deftly maneuvered Cecily around the floor.
"I know," she said. When he didn't reply, she clarified, "I know about you and Phoebe."
"I assumed you did."
"You did?" Cecily seemed surprised.
"Yes." Not looking at her he said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, "Well, isn't it nearly impossible to keep anything from anyone in your family? I've given up."
"Cholmondeley knows."
"He's said as much." Hal was now looking as Cholmondeley returned to Phoebe's side. "But it doesn't seem to bother him."
"Oh, but it does," she said. "He is going through with the wedding because it is for the good of the village. But he isn't happy with a marriage in name only."
Hal stopped dancing and looked at Cecily. "Who told you that?"
"Phoebe did. Didn't you know?"
"No, I…I never asked her to do that. I couldn't…as much as I might…"
"She doesn't love him," Cecily said.
"I have to talk to her." He glanced around the ballroom for Phoebe, but she seemed to have disappeared. Then he saw her dancing with Cholmondeley and felt a tight pain in his chest. As much as he couldn't tolerate the thought of them together, he couldn't see her condemned to a loveless marriage and a life without children. He headed towards her.
Before reaching them, he saw Cholmondeley stop dancing. As the band began playing Cole Porter's, "In the Still of the Night", he released Phoebe then turned and placed her hand in Hal's. Giving him a subdued smile, Cholmondeley said, gently, "Your dance?"
After a slight hesitation, Hal pulled Phoebe into his arms, and for long moments merely enjoyed the warm fit of her body next to his once more. The sudden spark of electricity and welcome frisson still managed to surprise them with the power to make them both breathless. Gazing down into her eyes, he was certain no sapphire could ever match their deep, rich color.
Do you love me as I love you
Are you my life to be
My dream come true
Or will this dream of mine
fade out of sight
While the Moon's growing dim
on the rim of the hill
in the chill still of the night
The combination of the bittersweet lyrics and being this close to her again, Hal found he could barely speak. Finally, he managed to tell her, "You look very beautiful tonight."
Phoebe gave him a small smile and flushed. "And I still admire your tuxedo wearing skills."
"I think we have to talk."
"Do we have anything left to say?" She moved gently in his arms, and he knew their old practice of allowing their bodies to communicate what they couldn't speak wouldn't work now.
"I have a lifetime of things to say to you that I won't be able to say." Hal said, not releasing her gaze, "But right now I have to talk to you…about what Cecily told me."
He felt her tense in his arms and her eyes flared. "She wasn't supposed to say anything to you."
"You can't…"
"That's not your decision."
Hal held her closer and whispered, "I want you to be happy…if you can be happy."
"I can't be happy in this situation. You know that." Tears formed in her eyes and abruptly, Phoebe broke away from him.
He wanted to run after her, but couldn't make a scene at such an elegant party when he knew that would embarrass her family. The ballroom was crowded, and the sound of laughter and the smell of cigarette smoke seemed to be closing in on him. He could see Cecily dancing with Cholmondeley a few feet away, but didn't see Phoebe anywhere. Making his way off the floor, he wondered if he could leave the gathering without being noticed. He needed to think, and didn't want to be cornered into any party small talk right now.
Heading towards the grand staircase Hal thought he saw a flash of blue silk vanish through a door leading to the balcony. He smiled wryly to himself. An exotic genie once tried to escape him by leaving a party to the chill of an empty garden. If he wouldn't let her go then, he certainly wouldn't let her go now.
XXXXXXXXX
The terrace was cold and full of fragrant greenery. Mrs. Figalilly loved to garden, and even with her spacious grounds she still had potted plants everywhere. An early spring breeze rustled leaves, and Hal could hear the splashing of the fountain from the courtyard below. In the darkness, he couldn't see Phoebe at first, but just as he had found the genie behind a hedge all of those months ago, he saw her when he stepped around the shadows of a tall potted tree.
"There you are," he said quietly. "Please don't run away from me."
Like the genie, she silently shook her head.
"You won't speak? How can I understand you if you won't talk to me? I can't honestly say I truly understand you when you do." Hal teasingly smiled at her and moved closer. She took a step away from him.
Her gesture pierced his heart. He had thought they had come a long way from that moonless garden on Halloween eve, yet here she was, once again silent and once again avoiding him as if afraid.
"I won't hurt you," he told her, "it's you who have wounded me. I know you didn't make this decision lightly, but it is you who are leaving me."
Phoebe shook her head and he stepped in front of her. Her posture stiffened and for a moment he thought she would run. Instead, she raised her face to him and he could see tears still standing in her eyes.
"No," he whispered, "don't cry." Reaching for her, she came into his arms. Crying and shivering, she clung to him and pressed her desperate mouth to his. Her sweet, dark, exotic taste was so familiar and oh, so missed.
I love you. Hal heard her voice in his mind and unafraid, he answered her. He didn't know if she could hear him, and maybe it didn't matter, but she deepened their kiss and clutched his shoulders as if she understood.
Stroking the skin of her back, he felt gooseflesh along her bare shoulders. Pulling away, he met her shadowed eyes and her tears flashed silver in the moonlight. Bending his neck, he kissed along her soft shoulders.
"Did you wear this strapless dress for me?" Hal murmured. "Did you wear this delicate silk and show off these white shoulders just to torment me?" He grazed his teeth on her flesh and gently suckled her neck. Her gasp and her sigh were enough to keep his mouth sealed to her.
"I love you," Phoebe said breathlessly. She was trembling violently in his embrace. "Don't ever think I could love another."
"I know. Neither could I." Kissing her jaw he brushed hair from her shoulder. Her gentle feminine fragrance pulled at him until he was lightheaded with need. In spite of the cool breeze, he suddenly felt waves of rising heat and released her shivering form.
Hal removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Giving her a shaky smile he said, "There. I hope you appreciate my sacrifice in covering your provocative shoulders."
She smiled and stepped back into his arms. "I did wear this dress for you. And I risked the cold to do so."
Holding her tightly, he whispered against her brow. "For that I am very grateful."
"And I very much appreciate being surrounded by you," Phoebe rubbed her cheek against his shirtfront and inhaled deeply. "I've missed being in your arms, I've missed your scent, your warmth – I've missed you. This last month…"
"Has been torture, I know." Hal kissed her again and the hunger, the urgent desire, the longing he had felt all of those endless weeks came flooding through him. He was desperate to keep her, desperate to love her. He would do anything…
"Just love me," she moaned with her lips on his throat. "I can endure anything if I know you love me."
Pain rose inside of him again and he didn't now where he got the strength to speak. Hands around her waist he held her back a step. "Yes, I love you, but if you are going through with this it can't be just half a marriage for you. Phoebe, you are a warm, loving and passionate woman, you can't cut that out of your life for the rest of your life."
"I can." Her eyes were determined and he knew she would keep this commitment no matter how difficult. "Can you?" she asked.
Hal closed his eyes against her intense gaze. He knew he'd never love another woman. She had brought him back from a loveless place, but he knew there would be no return now after having such a wonderful and magical woman in his life.
"Yes," he replied, meeting her eyes again. "I can live without another marriage. Two loves were more than I could ask for in a lifetime. And nothing could ever replace what you and I had together. But I have children in my life. I can't imagine you living a life without your own children."
"I have your children."
With a sad smile he said, "You won't be living with them. You won't see them grow up."
"I don't want any children but yours," Phoebe clung to him again and said in a voice full of tears, "I only want the children you give me."
"I want that more than I can say." He stroked her soft hair for a long moment. Then taking her face in his hands he gave her another gentle smile. "When you told me my palm said I would father more children, I imagined ours."
"So did I." Shining tears were on her cheeks now.
"You would be a perfect mother, a beautiful mother." He kissed her tears.
"And maybe I will be…someday." Phoebe met his lips and her mouth was welcoming and warm. This was coming home. Not this manor, not the house in California, she was his home. And the home they had made together, the home they could make together, their children…was it all just an elusive fantasy? Was she? He tried to push the thoughts away of what would never be. He tried to be happy for her. She was starting a new life, living in this wonderful place where she belonged with her loving family and Cholmondeley…
"I can't," Hal gasped as he broke from their impassioned kiss. "I can't stay here and watch you be married. I love you and want what's best for you – I understand why you are staying and know you have a family that loves you but – I can't help but believe that I am what's best for you. Our life together is what is meant to be and I can't watch this happen. The…the children can stay, but I can't be here. Please understand."
Phoebe met his eyes with a silent, intent plea of her own. She seemed to consider his words, then spoke in the low, smoky voice that never failed to harness all of his attention.
"I know you. I know how difficult this is for you, but you must stay. That is why you had to come here, you have to understand…"
"I do understand! I know the circumstances for these people…I have empathy and sympathy and know you are bound to them and this community. What more can I give?"
"No." She shook her head. "You know who I am, Hal. You know me. Whether or not you have ever believed in what I can do or how I can do it – you have believed in me. And you must believe me now: I don't know what it is or why, but you must stay here. Something here is your destiny – and what is best for all of us."
Hal didn't understand what she was asking of him, but he also knew he was so often defenseless against her resolve. "I do believe in you. I accept you for who and what you are – I even accept your eccentric family and this entire crazy situation. But don't ask me to be part of this any longer. I can't pretend that I don't want to change everything – that I don't want you and need you in my life always."
She touched his cheek and he felt himself falling more deeply under her spell. The moonlight lit her face in just that moment and he saw that silver spark in her eyes he was never sure was real or in his imagination. She made him believe in the impossible…
"Just have faith in the rightness of things. I can't explain, but you must remain here with me now." Phoebe raised her lips to his once more and her powerful kiss broke through the last of his protests. Unable to gather his arguments, he gave in to her and allowed himself to be swept up in his feelings. Even faced with the inevitable tangle of their situation, he couldn't resist one more kiss, one more caress, or just one more moment in her arms. If it didn't last a lifetime, every second was something that would last…
Always.
XXXXXXXXX
Hal had missed breakfast in the main dining room, but was much happier eating alone in a small room off of the kitchen. The day was sunny and clear, but the butler who served him breakfast cautioned that there would certainly be thunderstorms later that day. He learned that his kids had left for the village with Nanny Belle for a St. Patrick's Day concert and play at the local school, and weren't expected back until lunchtime. Phoebe was with her mother reviewing last minute wedding plans, and he thought the further away he was from hearing about those arrangements the better for his disposition. Still not sure staying was in the best interest of everyone, he had allowed Phoebe to talk him into remaining the rest of the week. He wasn't sure how much talking had to do with swaying his decision, but he had given her his word.
After perusing the local paper, he walked around the first floor of the house, looking at old paintings and artifacts. The house almost had the feel of a museum, and he wondered if summer tourists paid a few shillings to take a tour of the grand manor. Still, the living areas had wonderful homey touches like plenty of well read books and half finished knitting projects. The staff kept the place spotless, but it was nice to see that his modest home wasn't the only one subject to the wear and tear on a carpet only dogs could provide.
Just off the sitting room there was a heavy door ajar and high shelves of books beckoned beyond. Never one to pass up a look through a library, Hal pushed the door opened further. In the center of the room was a long, gleaming wooden table with several unlit lamps sporting green glass shades. Cecily sat at the far end of the table surrounded by thick opened books. She was writing furiously on a lined legal pad and her silver rimmed glasses had slid to the end of her short nose. Upon Hal's entrance, she glanced up with a distracted look in her eyes.
"Oh, hello," Cecily removed her glasses and gave him a smile that was reminiscent of her sister's. "We all wondered where you were."
"Slept late. Guess the jetlag finally got to me." Hal gestured at the books on the table. "Catching up on your light reading?" he teased.
"Well, I…" She seemed uncomfortable. "I'm the family historian of sorts. I was reviewing the old covenants and trying to find…"
"Some sort of loophole?" Looking over the book titles he read, "A History of Devon", "The Dumnonii", ancient text translations, linguistics, cryptanalysis, philology…" He raised an eyebrow at Cecily.
"That's the study of…" she began.
"The study of language as it pertains to literature and culture, and of written texts, usually ancient ones." Hal supplied. "I know what it is but I've never met a philologist face-to-face. I thought they were usually dusty, ancient men."
"Yes, usually," Cecily flushed. "I mean, I only had one professor at Exeter who was a philologist and he was a dusty, little, old man. Most people think we are linguists, but linguists usually work with spoken data and most philologists work with little understood languages that are no longer spoken. Generally we work with textual records that may be all that is known of the language."
"The historical development of a language: language roots, syntax, semantics, grammar…" He picked up one of the volumes to scan a page.
"How do you know so much about it?" She asked. "Most people have never heard of what we do. Are you interested in languages?"
"Well, I'm very interested in artificial languages. I consulted with a cognitive philologist in Germany to discuss how human mental processes might be mimicked to produce artificial intelligence production and programming." Hal put the book down and picked up another.
"Language and mathematics are much more similar brain functioning systems than most people believe. For instance, translation and code breaking often use simple mathematical processes or algorithms…" Cecily began.
"Particularly useful when the language is a planned or artificial one." He peered over Cecily's shoulder at the papers in front of her. "That's it, huh? The ancient covenant of your people that has bound your family and Cholmondeley's in a "business in blood" contract with the entire community. The centuries old betrothal bonds that must be honored or the village is destroyed."
Cecily didn't miss the bitterness in Hal's voice. She looked at him with empathy and nodded. "I'm afraid it's a very precise document. Our ancestors were very far-sighted when it came to making lasting provisions for the security of this society."
Reading from the book in his hands, he said: "The name "Devon" derives from the kingdom of Dumnonia which was home to the tribe of Celtic people who inhabited the area of the southwestern peninsula of Britain at the time of the Roman invasion in AD 43. The name Dumnonii possibly means 'Deep Valley Dwellers' or 'Worshippers of the god Dumnonos or "World Spirit".
Cecily nodded. "Our people are very connected spiritually. And we are very committed to the land. Our ancient farming processes are very friendly to the Earth. We have tremendous product yield. Phoebe believes that someday our methods will be practiced all over the world."
"I don't doubt she's right," Hal was pensive as he scanned the document on the table. There was a familiarity to the structure that was pulling at his memory. The words weren't recognizable to him, but the text seemed more balanced and rigid than the languages he was familiar with like Italian or German. "Cecily, are you the only person who can read this?"
"Yes," she said slowly. "I had reviewed it years ago with the professor I mentioned, as our language is no longer spoken. He agreed with the accepted meaning of the translated
text that has been passed on from generation to generation."
"How did you learn the language?"
"From my grandfather. Why?"
"Did he speak this language?" Hal's eyes hadn't left the page and his quick mind was racing.
"Yes, a few words. We all speak only a few words." Cecily shrugged.
He wanted to hear the rhythm of the words. "Will you read some of this for me, please?"
Putting her glasses back on, she began to read slowly. The language didn't sound as lyrical as Irish, Welsh or Scottish; it's formal and unnatural intonation not due entirely to Cecily's halting speech.
Interrupting her, Hal asked, "Why is this not spoken any longer?"
"I suppose because it is so difficult to learn. The origin is believed to be Italic – a precursor to Latin. I'm afraid when spoken it's not as pretty as other Celtic or Romance languages."
"Too many rules?" Hal guessed. "No dialects?"
"That's right." Cecily's blue eyes were wide, and for some reason her pulse had quickened. "Why, what are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking it's time we dusted off that old professor of yours."