Title: Nelson at the Brink
Author: Ursula
Rating: rating: R
Genre and/or Pairing: Neal Caffrey and Peter Burke.
Notes: Lord Horatio Nelson lived with his mistress, Lady Hamilton and Lady Hamilton's husband, Lord William Hamilton for long periods of time
Spoilers:
Warnings: Slash
Word Count:
Summary: Neal and Peter investigate a document which purports to be a love letter from Lord William Hamilton to Horatio Nelson. If you are unaware of history, Horatio Nelson was a nautical hero, an astounding warrior, who created a scandal by taking a married lady as a mistress. The fascinating part to me was that Nelson was a house guest of both his mistress and her husband! Hmmm?
The letter reveals some details that highlight to Elizabeth her relationship to both men.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
OooOooO
"Of course, it's a fake," Lauren asserted.
Smug, Neal leaned back, giving Peter a lazy possessive glance across the table that Elizabeth noticed immediately. "So you are sure it's forged because you can't handle that Lord Hamilton could have been in love with Horatio Nelson himself?"
"Well, yes," Lauren said. "Look, it was England in the mid eighteenth century."
"And you think that precludes gay lovers?"
"No, but it wasn't accepted," Lauren countered.
"And you think Horatio Nelson worried about that? He already fell in love with a married woman. His reputation was risque."
Elizabeth reached for the wine decanter at the same time as Neal did. Their hands touched and there was that electric charge between them. Neal grinned at her, took the decanter, poured Elizabeth her wine, and half bowed to serve it to her. Peter watched out of the corner of his eye and smiled that self-satisfied way that made El want to tear the clothes right off him. Peter was her man, her husband.
The reflection of Elizabeth's expression was on Neal's face. He too had noticed Peter watching and he too enjoyed it. Neal was Peter's lover and Elizabeth's best friend. Elizabeth understood William Hamilton. If you loved someone with all your heart, how could you deny them something they needed to be happy? How could you let them go? You compromised and, if you were lucky, you found that it brings you joy too.
"You can't just rule an artifact out because you disagree with what it represents," Neal said.
"What do you think, Peter?" Lauren said.
Elizabeth doesn't know Lauren very well, but she believed that Lauren was a daddy's girl, used to being the favorite and the spoiled one. Well, honey, Elizabeth thought, you are out of your league if you expect Peter will take your side over Neal's. It was not only that Peter loved Neal; it was how brilliant Neal was.
"So far everything supports Neal's belief that the letter is authentic," Peter said.
"It's an obvious attempt to put a modern day spin on a love story between a man and a woman," Lauren said. "Everyone knows that Emma Hamilton and Horatio Nelson had a passionate romantic love affair that even resulted in the birth of a child. You can't tell me that Horatio also had a thing for Lord Hamilton."
"Why, Lauren, my dear, you reveal yourself as having new depth," Neal said, his tone as cutting as an obsidian knife. "You are homophobic. How old fashioned of you."
"I am not," Lauren said, red-faced. She said, "Just because I don't think that Horatio Nelson and Lord Hamilton were getting it on too, doesn't mean that I don't respect life styles. Diana and I were best friends at Academy!"
"Neal, say you're sorry," Peter directed. "That was uncalled for."
"Sorry, Lauren," Neal said, after lifting a brow at Peter.
Looking at her watch, Elizabeth said, "I have a meeting. Peter, be sure and make that copy for me. I don't care if it's real or not. It sounds like the perfect read."
OooOooO
The boys were working late; her boys, her husband and his Neal. Peter had dropped by to drop off a copy of the alleged letter and to give her a kiss, letting her know in advance that he would not be home for dinner. Damned if Neal wasn't civilizing her cave man! If only she had understood long ago that Peter Burke was too big a project for one lone woman. He needed a team and Elizabeth and Neal outnumbered him.
Dining alone was something El accepted. She often spent her dinner hour with friends, but sometimes it was better to share a quiet meal with Satchmo. El lived with the fact that Peter was frequently remiss on his calls to inform her that he would not be home. They lived separate lives at times and that was something that El dealt with early in their marriage. She had rebelled at times, made ultimatums, but the choice was simple. Live with Peter, forgetful and sometimes neglectful Peter, or live without him. She chose well. She chose Peter.
El was not the kind of woman who did not cook except for other people. She pampered herself with gourmet meals. Besides it was part of her job. She always did test runs on dishes to see if they were truly delicious. Tonight however, El chose a simple green salad with roast chicken and a raspberry walnut dressing. She would have a glass of rose wine and drink to Lord Hamilton who would entertain her tonight.
****************
"My dearest Horatio"
I risk much in setting down my thoughts to you, dear friend, but in your absence and in Emma's current silent grief for you, with whom may I speak of our secret?
Ah, the world resounds with our scandal and views me the foolish cuckold to embrace my rival in my own home. We do embrace, my amorous friend, do we not?
They think me too old for love. They view me as someone who collected first, Emma, the pearl of society even as she is the talk. Then they say I permitted my wife to put horns on me in order to enjoy the reflected glory of your company, the heroic Horatio Nelson. Age is not innocence nor does it bring with it peace from the desires of the flesh. They do not know how the passion burned in me, first for Emma and later for you.
George Romney celebrated our lovely Emma in so many lovely paintings. Would but I had the resources to buy everyone, to have a vision of our Emma in every room. There are those that say my love was platonic for her from the first, but the truth was I took our Emma to bed when my foolish nephew dismissed her and sent her to me, saying he would reclaim her at his leisure. My most benighted young relative felt her loss and all happiness to him in his marriage to that rich young heiress. I took Emma with joy and she made me young again. I was vastly amused at all the furor when I married her. At my ripe age, I was again the subject of every conversation.
Emma loved you from the start and I was also taken. You amused me with all your youthful subterfuge, you vainglorious strutting. Ah, the scene when Emma came begging to me, asked my permission to say 'yes'. I would not refuse her and I was curious about you. I said, yes. I invited you, my Horatio, to reside in my lodgings.
Your shame, your besmirched honor were my wine. I remember so well the night when you were in fever and also had drank too deeply the French brandy you liberated from that French fop after the battle of the Nile. Emma was off performing one of her tableaus so we had been left to our own devices. I helped you to your bed chambers, finding your valet had deserted you. I undressed you myself and made to put you to bed. You suddenly put your arm around me, the left arm that is all you have left, my darling. You called me your dear friend.
The kiss you gave me may have been meant to be camaraderie, but I made it passionate. You were so responsive and I made love to you all night.
Do you remember when Emily found out? Striking us both, running from the room, and returning in gales of laughter after she appreciated the irony. She is unique. I bid you to treasure her as I may not be here when you return. I fear my illness is draining the life from me, this terrible dysentery that lingers and robs my day of joy.
Remember me, dear boy. Remember that I loved you.
Into your hands, I commend our dear beloved Emma.
With love,
William, Lord Hamilton
*************
If the letter was a clever fraud, Elizabeth would be saddened. She held the letter to her lips and gave it a kiss. "I hope he knew even if he didn't get the letter, William."
Her cell phone buzzed. "Changing Partners" by Bing Crosby." It was Neal.
"Hi, doll," El said. "What's up?"
"Hey, the lab came back. I was right. The letter matches known Lord Hamilton letters, stationary, ink, handwriting, carbon dating, everything."
"Of course, you were right, doll," El replied. "And that's the reason you called?"
"Peter is starving me," Neal complained. "We caught another case already and Peter is cracking the whip. Help. Feed me!"
"Give me half an hour and I'll come rescue you," El said.
"What did you think of the letter?"
"I think I would have loved Lord Hamilton," El admitted.
"And he would have adored you. Remind me to paint you ala bacchante, El," Neal said.
"I would be delighted," El said, already on her way to the kitchen to see what she could find that would agree with both Peter and Neal's palates, which were admittedly not similar. She loaded a basket with turkey, some really nice bread rolls, cut vegetables, havarti, and some American cheese for all too American Peter. She finished with an assortment of fresh fruit. There were grapes and an assortment of out of season berries she had splurged to buy. Neal liked berries and Peter would eat them if there was something in which to dip them so she packed vanilla flavored yogurt as well.
Neal was waiting for her, leaning on the doorway and grinning, hands in pockets. He looked elegant despite having worked all day. However his jaw was shadowed. Neal didn't shave as closely as Peter to start with and his hair was dark. Neal took the basket from El and they went arm and arm up the stairs.
It was after usual work hours by two hours, but her husband and Neal were not the only ones working. In fact, Jones was with them and grinned in greeting. Good thing she had been generous in portions. She never knew what Peter and Neal would eat. Neal usually ate like a bird, but sometimes seemed to binge eat. Peter had a hearty appetite if he had been in the field. Her husband's desk was large, but with four people crowded around it, it seemed small. Neal had plunked down next to Peter and did not move for El, which she accepted because this was the office and was Neal's territory with Peter.
El took the turkey out of the zip lock bag, opened cheese packages, and handed out plates. The room seemed warmer, difficult to accomplish given the sterility of the fish bowl design. Elizabeth wondered what paranoid designer created this glass paneled nightmare. She smirked, thinking that it was just as well. Peter might forget to be discreet if he had walls.
"So what's the new case?" El asked. There were pictures of some plates and a stack of gilt edged documents.
"Oh, some Neal wannabe whipped up a bunch of fake stocks," Jones said.
"Hardly my caliber," Neal remarked as he scooped sweetened yogurt into one of the small paper bowls and added an assortment of berries. He passed these to Peter who sighed and took them, obviously feeling hen pecked.
Jones glanced from one man to the other and a smile quirked on his broad lips. People missed how clever Jones was. Fortunately, Jones was also very loyal. If he saw clues, he kept the conclusion they developed to himself.
El had her own theory but she was not ready for field application quite yet. She reached for some grapes at the same time as Neal. Their hands grazed and that same little buzz of pleasure runs between them.
Neatly dividing the grapes, Neal said, "Good thing we always share, El."
"A very good thing," El said. She takes the grapes, eats one. Her eyes met Neal's and she said, "What a lucky woman that Emma Hamilton was."
Glancing at Peter and El, Neal said, "Horatio was a lucky man too. Emma gave him love and William gave him a home."
"William learned to love him too," El said.
"He did," Neal said.
Peter poured the ice tea that El brought instead of wine. "To Lord and Lady Hamilton and to Horatio Nelson. A happy threesome."
"I'll drink to that," Neal said.
"To threesomes, a very stable geometric shape," Jones said. He looked as if what he said was totally innocent.
"To what he said," El said.
When her men had eaten, El packed up, escorted by Jones. She glanced back at Peter and Neal, heads almost touching over their work.
Someday. Someday, they would both truly be hers.
The end