Hello again,
Thank you all so much for the continued support and amazing response to the last chapter :) I was terribly worried about it, and now I can't think why lol Anyway, thanks so much :)
I'm going to keep it short this week, so here's chapter 8...
Chapter Eight
Homeā¦
The torrents of rain, which currently lashed against the castle windows, had continued to confine to their chambers. Past times became hard to come by, though until today neither had complained too much towards this situation. It was only towards the end of their third week that Isabella could stand imprisonment no longer. She had spent most of her childhood locked away from the world, her marriage was supposed to be her freedom. She was also tiring of never-ending rain. Isabella had never seen weather quite like it. They had had storms in France of course, she had witnessed many in her life time, but storms pass and this unending downpour had not ceased for the entirety of their stay. She continued to stare out of the window; the water sliding down the glass pane holding her attention for longer than it probably should have.
Edward sat across from her, occupied by his newspaper. The Times had an article about his father's visit to Parliament; it held his interest better than she could today. She sighed, and finally turned away from the window. Edward looked up from his paper, folding it and placing it on the side table.
"What is troubling you, my Lady?"
He appeared a little irritated at having to cease reading, but did not refuse her his attention. She noticed his irritation, but she simply made no comment towards it.
"When do we return to London?" she questioned, hoping they could return sooner rather than later. She had truly seen enough rain these two weeks to last her lifetime. At least the sun made appearances in London; here it was nothing but grey clouds and icy sheets of water.
"Why? Do you tire of my company already?" he replied, a slight smirk changing his features into an expression that caused desire to stir once again. She tried to ignore the feeling and rose from her perch. Isabella settled herself in his lap; much to his surprise, but he placed an arm around her, all the same.
"I will never tire of your company," she whispered truthfully before capturing his lips in a brief kiss.
She pulled back from him, "It is not you that I tire of; it is this weather."
Edward openly laughed at her statement, much to her displeasure. She did not look pleased when he ceased. Her look alone caused his reply.
"You are not in France anymore, Bella. You best get used to the rain," he told her simply. Her face fell, and she muttered solemnly.
"I am very aware that I am no longer in France, but thank you for bringing it to my attention."
Edward felt guilt settle in his stomach; he should not have mentioned her home. By marriage; England was her home, but that did not make her feel it. Her ties were to France, and it would take her a long while for that to change. He pulled her against his chest then; her head resting lightly against his collarbone.
"I did not mean to cause you heartache, my dear Bella," he told her, using her name over her titles; she preferred that, "I meant it only in jest, please do not be sad."
Isabella did not reply. She simply savoured the feeling of her husband's arms around her; enjoying being held in an embrace that was not at all sexual, just comforting. She enjoyed her husband's company immensely in regards to their bedroom activities, but it felt nice to simply be held. After a moment or two, she realised she had been given her answer.
"When do we go to London?" she repeated, "You never did say."
The Prince looked relived, and granted her an answer.
"Whenever you wish it," he told her, he was happy to do as she bid him, "We can leave tomorrow, if it would make you happy."
Isabella smiled; he would do anything to please her that much she had learnt over the last three weeks. She remembered a time in her childhood, when her father had remarked that her mother had held him wrapped around her little finger, only days after they had met. She could see now what he had meant by that statement. Her husband would do almost anything she requested; a fact that amused her greatly.
"Are you really agreeable with leaving tomorrow?" she clarified, to which he nodded. He knew she was disappointed with how their honeymoon had turned out. She felt caged in the castle and longed for freedom. They may have been offered privacy here, for which they were both grateful, but if she had to spend another day trapped within these walls, she would likely go insane.
"I am agreeable, but unfortunately we cannot just leave, my father is not expecting us," he told her sadly, knowing he would disappoint her. He eased her gently off his lap. He rose up and allowed her to take his seat.
"I will make arrangements to leave within two days, does this suit?"
She nodded; she was satisfied with his request. She had known they simply could not just leave without a moment's notice. He placed a kiss unto her forehead, his lips feather light against her skin. Her eyes closed at the feel of his touch. She smiled at the feelings his touch never ceased to rouse within her. He left a moment later to make arrangements for their imminent departure, and once he was gone she smiled to herself, glad that they had found some happiness so early into their marriage. She could not have asked for a man so perfect to spend her life with. She truly was the most happy.
Everything was set and ready. It was time to depart. The Prince headed to the carriage he would share with his wife. Isabella had left the castle ahead of him, with her ladies and Dash. He had been delayed by making arrangements with the household. He approached the carriages and noticed immediately that Lady Weber and Clearwater were down by the riverbank. His attention turned to them, and he changed course. They did not notice him, as he advanced; their attention was fixed on his young wife. She stood by the shoreline, staring out at the river in wonder. He stopped for a moment to take in the sight of her, her face as peaceful as it always was in sleep. He could not take his eyes off her.
The gentle waves crashed against the river bank. A soft breeze, which carried the scent of the ocean, washed over her face. She delighted in the feeling of it tickling her skin. Her eyes closed and she sighed with contentment. She was so very glad that the sun had broken free of its prison and granted her this moment. The carriage was loaded, the staff had taken their seats, but she could not bear to leave without having a moment to enjoy the sea. She closed her eyes and allowed the scent and breeze of the ocean to fill her. She knew he was behind her before he even spoke. She had grown so used to his presence over the fortnight they had spent as husband and wife; she could feel him behind her.
"Just a moment longer," she pleaded not taking her eyes away from the sight before her. He came up and stood beside her.
"If watching the water brings you pleasure, I shall not tear you from it," he told her, gazing out at the sight that fascinated her.
He had seen the River Seiont many times in his childhood; it was nothing new to him. He did not understand the look in her eyes, a look that held such wonder at the beauty of the water. The Prince wished to ask her the reason as to why she looked at the river with such an expression, but she spoke before he had formed the question.
"I have never been this close to the sea before," she recalled, "It is truly a marvellous sight."
The Prince could not understand it; she had never been to the shore before? What kind of upbringing had she endured?
"Never?" he questioned, almost horrified at the thought of never being granted this experience as a child. She shook her head; her expression sad and reminiscent.
"Father kept me confined to the Palace. I was allowed in the gardens with an escort, and into town if he accompanied me," she stated, her gaze still transfixed by the river. He could not even picture a life like that.
"Did he ever say why?" he asked quietly, hoping that it was not because of the betrothal contract, which he suspected. Her father had taken the point of keeping his daughter pure, by shutting her away from any male that may chance a glance at her. He worried that she had been locked away to insure her virtue.
"He did, but I never truly understood his meaning," she replied, turning to face him at last, "he said that not all of France wished me well."
Prince Edward's face paled at the statement. She may not have understood the meaning behind her father's words, but he did. France was not as stable as King Charles wanted his fellow nobles to believe. The Prince now found himself wishing the betrothal contact had been the reason behind her confinement. The Prince kept his thoughts to himself though; he did not want to frighten her. If anything drastic were to happen, she would hear of it.
"I am sure that is not true," he lied, hoping she would not know him well enough yet to see through his words. She turned away from him again, and fell silent for a moment.
"I had a painting of a shoreline in my sitting room," she continued, eyes transfixed on an unknown point ahead of her, "I always tried to imagine what it would look like up close. I have been waiting to come down here since we arrived, though I am sorry for delaying our departure."
The prince smiled, "Do not worry over it; we can spend all day here, if you wish it," he told her, meaning every word; he would gladly travel through the night if it meant that she could get her fill of the river Seiont. He tried to imagine how the river would appear if he had never before laid eyes on it. He had first visited the shore when he was only very young, a time before his sister's birth, and he found it difficult to imagine how it must look through her eyes. A thought struck him, then.
"One day soon," he vowed, "I will take you to the sea. This is just a river; the true ocean is much more marvellous."
Her face studied him, alight with a mixture of disbelief and hope. She truly did not know what she had done to deserve such a husband. She would never be thankful enough to God for granting her such a wonderful companion. He was the sweetest man she had ever met, though she would never admit that to him through fear of offending him. The depth of her affection for him grew with each passing hour. His desire to please her above all others, only strengthened her feeling. No man would ever compare to him. He saw the hope and admiration in her eyes, and was encouraged by it.
"We could perhaps take a picnic and make a day of it?"
The idea of a day at the beach planted firmly in his mind now. He wanted to give her the experiences she had missed out on as a child. He hoped one day she would tell him more, but he was content not to push the subject further this morning.
She reached for him then, her tiny hand clasping his and gently tugging him closer. He allowed her to pull him in, but remained very aware that they were within the public eye. He had no desire to make the front page of a tabloid. The words she uttered next took him completely off guard; of all the things to say, he had not been expecting her to reply with such a statement.
"You are the most wonderful man," she muttered softly, "how did I ever become so lucky?"
Her words summed up his feelings almost perfectly. Although he disagreed with her on the first part, he wholeheartedly agreed and understood her feelings in regards to luck. He felt honoured to have been chosen to marry her, and he sought to treat her as his most prized possession. He would treasure her always, for as long as he lived. He still did not know her well, but he did not have to know her inside and out to know that he was a very lucky man indeed, to have found a woman that he fit with so perfectly.
Suddenly, he cared not for the common people's opinions of him. He just needed to feel her against him, and he did not think on it a moment. In a swift motion, he gathered her up into his arms, kissing her fiercely. They shared a moment that neither would forget in a hurry, before pulling themselves away from one another. After their brief kiss, the Prince gazed out across the river once more. Isabella did not join him this time; she stared at her husband in astonishment. They had shared passion before, but the show of such affection in public made her face heat with embarrassment. She did not regret the experience, however, and she reached out to grasp his hand once again. He wrapped his fingers around her hand, and pulled her into his side. Their last moment in Wales was spent together, staring out across the water, thanking their lucky stars for the betrothal contract that had led them to each other.
The Morning Chronicle
LONDON, FRIDAY, APRIL 29th 1833
Royal Newlyweds Enjoy a Moment in Wales
In the early morning of April 28th, the young couple were spotted by their Welsh residence; Caernarfon Castle. They stood on the shore line, hands clasped together, while they shared words. His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, sneaked a moment with his young bride on the bank of river Seiont. Never before has the Prince of Wales behaved so out of his usual character. It was a rare sight to be seen. Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales, I am told, appeared as surprised by his affection as the rest of the nobles present that morning.
The Prince of Wales is not known to behave in such a manor. A fact his acquaintances and bride seem to be in agreement about. The Princess of Wales may have appeared shocked at the affection shown in such a public setting, but she nevertheless looked most pleased at her husband's actions. This display shows a change in his Royal Highness that we, as a nation, hope to mean he has found happiness with his bride. A fact that we can all be glad about, his happiness is an encouraging and inspiring thought for our great nation. The Prince of Wales marital bliss can only mean good for our country and for our people, and we, at The Morning Chronicle, congratulate him and his bride, and we wish the young couple every happiness together.
His Majesty the King did not finish the article; he folded the tabloid and placed it onto his desk. The article should have angered him given the fact that his son had almost caused scandal, but it did not. He found himself glad at the changes the paper had reported about his eldest son. He was as glad as the writers of The Morning Chronicle to hear that his son had acted out of character. His Majesty had known that the Princess would be good for his son, but he had never dreamed that he would see a change in him so soon.
The door to his study flew open and his wife hurried into the room. Her face was alight with surprise, and confusion. Any other person would have been reprimanded for making such an entrance, but Esme, she could never offend him with her presence. He found himself smiling at the sight of her; she was flustered and out of sorts.
"What brings you here, my dear?" he enquired, as she approached his desk. She took a breath before speaking, and gathered herself together.
"One of the guards at the gate saw a carriage approaching," she told him, after regaining her breath, "it is Edward, he and Isabella have returned early."
His Majesty looked alarmed, "they are not due here for another week."
He clambered up out of the wing-backed chair, and headed towards his wife. All the while forming plans in his mind, his son could not arrive without the proper greeting.
"Assemble the staff, we will go out to greet them as originally planned," he instructed his wife, to which she nodded and hastened away from his study. His Majesty was not best pleased with his son now. They had planned an elaborate ball to celebrate their return to court, all of which would have to be cancelled now, unless they could find another reason to hold it, before it became too late to cancel.
The plan they had devised had been spurred into action, and when the carriage pulled up into the courtyard, the staff and nobles in attendance were awaiting the newly wedded couple. The Prince of Wales disembarked from the carriage swiftly, before offering Isabella his assistance. His Majesty was glad to see him behave as the gentleman he had raised him to be. Once she was beside him, they stood side by side in front of their carriage and waited to be addressed by His Majesty. He strode forward after a moment or two and greeted his son and daughter-in-law with fondness. He may not have been pleased to see them returned to court so soon, but he was glad to see them nonetheless.
"Forgive me for not preparing for your arrival; we were not expecting you so soon," His Majesty told him smiling brilliantly. He was not pleased; his son knew this straight away. He did not care much, however, he would rather his father unhappy than his bride.
"We came upon the decision to leave early," Prince Edward explained to his father, leaving out the details. He did not wish for his father to know that Isabella had been the one to suggest leaving. He did not want his father to have any reason to be displeased with her.
"You should have sent word ahead, my son," his father scolded lightly, and the Prince knew before his father spoke that they would be having words later, "I will see you in my study after luncheon."
"The fault is mine, Your Majesty, the weather was not to my liking," the Princess told her father-in-law, and as soon as the words had left her, she regretted speaking. She hoped that neither her husband nor his father-in-law would take offence to her words. She had seen women at court in France, who had spoken without permission, thus earning themselves a mark or bruise; a sign that their husband had put them in their place. She did not think that her husband was capable of such violence, but then, she did not know him all that well. The husbands of the women at court had seemed like reasonable gentlemen, but no gentlemen, by her definition, left a mark on his lady.
Luckily, His Majesty was not offended; he smiled pleasantly down at the young woman.
"You are unaccustomed to our English weather, it is understandable, my Lady," he replied, before summoning the gathered men and women back into the palace.
"After luncheon," he repeated quietly to his son, the pleasantness fading from his expression. Isabella's heart sank, she had not helped him in this situation; she had made matters worse for him. He glanced reassuringly towards her, his small smile comforted her. His simple smile, as he offered her his arm, told her that he was the gentleman that she believed him to be. Like his father, he was not offended by her words or that she spoken up without his permission. He had no intention of chastising her or putting her in her place. She slipped her arm through his and allowed him to lead her into the palace; relived and reassured as to her husband's character. She was very glad to be back at Buckingham, and she hoped against all hope that she never saw rain again.
Sorry for putting an end to their honeymoon, but they'd been happy too long :P
Thanks for reading :)
