Chapter 10

Moonlight enshrouded her still surroundings, enlightened select features but she found herself being awakened amidst the beautiful peacefulness.

"Mary?"

Whispers seeped into the quiet atmosphere of her chambers and she felt her irritation growing as the whispers rooted itself in the room. A warm hand shook her shoulder. She let out a muffled moan into her pillows but fell back into a chasm of dreams, only to be pulled back out once more.

"Mary?"

The whispers became more insistent, more forceful, more desperate for her to wake up. Her eyes snapped open, the darkness welcoming her into reality. Her eyes looked round furtively, looking for the source of her awakening. Her eyes stopped searching when they had eventually rested upon the ethereal looking figure of Richard, as informally dressed as she. She smiled a moment, he looked like an angel straight from the bible. But she realised as her mind began to wake up that it was really him. Mary sat up post-haste to cover herself as she realised her state of undress in front of a member of the opposite sex, her closest friend even!

She scuttered away from him, taking with her the blankets and furs that had covered her and pulled it closer to her, as if to shield herself from his eyes.

"Richard!" She cried in whispers, her sleepy state vanquished by her surprise in his coming. "What are you doing?-And here of all places!"

The man in question looked on in amusement, as she struggled to cover herself with the sheets each falling in different directions and couldn't manage to hold them in place. He smirked as she continued to struggle under his gaze. "Now is your chance to visit the prisoner whom you have been wanting to meet." Richard told her, all amusement gone and urgency replaced it. "You may not get another chance like this, for they are to be executed on the morrow." He grimaced at the thought.

Mary felt her heart drop for even if they tried to take her life, she reasoned in her head that there was no point in taking theirs; it would only fuel more attempts from various parties. She thought to herself before responding. "Give me a moment to prepare," she told him softly. But as he looked to her with bright eyes (almost lighting the caliginous chamber), Mary sought to scold him. "And turn around! Grant me my privacy!" She hissed sharply in the dark in an attempt to reprimand him, though was only able to succeed in humouring him further.

As he turned his back to her, he heard gentle rustlings of sheets- no doubt Mary trying to pull her sheets with her as a precaution if he dares try to take a peek at her immodestly dressed figure. He smirked to himself but granted her the privacy she asked for, although he was tempted to take a small peek.

Moments passed and rustling continued to sound throughout the room, until Mary's meek voice called to Richard.

"Richard?" She whispered, voice quivering- possibly due to the cold, though how he wasn't shivering, Richard did not know.

He hummed in acknowledgement of her call. "Richard, I need help tying up my-" Mary gulped. She needed this to be done, but with another's help. "I need help tying my-my stay." Mary finished her sentence in a rather pitiful manner.

With his back still turned to her, Mary did not see his eyes widen in a comical fashion. He gulped too, but still he would not turn to her. "Why do you need me to help you?" He said his words carefully, he didn't expect this scenario. "Can you not do it yourself?"

Mary became indignant at that notion. "Richard, be sensible!" She stomped her foot to emphasise her point. "If I could do it myself, then I wouldn't have asked you!" She scowled at him.

He smirked to himself but endeavoured to keep his voice confused in tone. "But then, here I thought you were taking pity on a poor man such as myself." He heard her snort.

"You are hardly poor and as to whether you are a man," Mary grinned to herself, amused at what she was about to say, "That remains a question."

"I do not think it does!" Richard harrumphed, offended at having his manhood questioned. "Must I prove it to you?- For I would gladly do it!"

Mary chuckled to herself as she watched Richard descend into his old antics. "There is no need for you to do such a thing; only you should man up and help me finish dressing, we are wasting valuable time."

He rolled his eyes and surrendered. "Very well, but make sure you are at least decently covered."

Turning round slowly, Richard closed his eyes to give Mary a semblance of dignity despite the situation that they found themselves in. Oh dear Lord, what if someone came in and found them in this compromising position? It could ruin her reputation or even worse, her prospects! Richard knew he would never forgive himself for that, if it does come to that. He breathed in a deep breath but kept his eyes shut as his hands blindly searched in the dark for the laces of her stay.

Cold hands stopped his futile efforts and it clicked in his head. Her hands were too cold for her to properly grip the laces. In his hands, Mary placed the laces of her stay gently. It seemed like instinct, he knew what he was doing despite her initial apprehension being contributed to the fact that he may not have known what he was doing. But how was it he knew? All thoughts though left her mind as his fingers brushed accidentally against the material of her corset and sent her blushing to her roots and breathless at the innocent swipes, though her breath quickened as the stay tightened.

At least it had been over quickly as she hadn't known how she would have continued to have stayed still. As soon as Richard tied the knot to secure and fasten the stay, Mary quickly fled his clutches and retreated into her closet that she might pick a simple garment and at the same time, allow her the space to straighten out her skewed thoughts.

What was happening to her?

Her heart was beating rather strangely, skipping in unusual beats. It sounded exotic but it was painful.

Mary felt the pain keenly as she was being escorted to the Tower. She wondered if they could hear it, marching soundlessly as they flanked her. Surely they could! The sound deafened her ears. If they couldn't hear it, then surely they could feel it; pulsating fiercely through her and unto the ground, it was as if she was throbbing inside out. Surely Richard could feel it, his hand searching blindly once again, this time for her hand. His fingers tentatively brushed against her pulse and Mary could see from the corner of her eye that his own eyes widened and wordlessly took her hand, gripping it reassuringly.

Smiling softly to herself, she watched as the sunlight, scintillating as it was, disappear from her view as she entered the lower levels of the dungeons.

It was hot, she first noted, stiflingly so. It made her skin prickle irritatingly and gave her terrible thoughts to do with the fur piece that enveloped her neck (but not about the hand that provided to much warmth in that moment). Their surroundings were filthy, dirt clinging to the craters between the bricks. The smell was unpleasant, malodorous in fact. Mary thought to herself that she wouldn't be surprised if she heard that the prisoners could die due to the smell alone. She wrinkled her nose at the thought. She swore that as she looked up ahead, she saw the ethereal figure of the woman who had haunted her dreams before gliding gracefully in the filth that thrived in abundance here. And the dark…

Mary gripped Richard's hand tighter, her breath quickening. The sound of a wolf's howl began to echo in her ear…

She stopped abruptly, halting the guards behind her, their expressions betraying no emotions, no question. But Richard's eyes held the questions for them.

"Mary, are you well?" He asked gently, his mien calm as brows furrowed in confusion. His voice echoed ominously throughout the dark corridor, sending chills up her spine. It reminded her too much of the visions that plagued her dreams.

Awoo!

She forced her eyes to keep open, terrified to see the wolf materialise behind her eyelids. "Richard, do you not see?" Mary whispered, desperate to ensure that no echo would resound.

Richard wasn't though. "See what?"- Sent dark tones echoing throughout the long, dark corridor. Shivers ran down her spine as the howls came, unwanted but inevitable.

Mary flinched. "It's dark." She whispered, pained in both appearance and tone.

It had been the only piece of information he needed to know. Realisation dawned on his face, whose light was sorely missed in this place. "Oh Mary, I had forgotten. Forgive me." He said apologetically, careful now to ensure that his voice was gentle and silent.

Richard turned to the guards who had trailed behind them, his features hardening.

"The Lady bids you to light a torch." He commanded. His voice had not been unkind, but was still firm in its delivery.

One of the soldiers had produced a wooden torch from a hidden niche a few steps behind the party. To ignite it, the soldier proceeded to the entrance they had come through and thrust the torch into one of the burning fires that had stood erect at the entrance.

He made his way to the front of the party, leading the way by holding the torch in front of all of them. Mary could see the soldier's shadow flickering eerily against the walls, creating abstract shapes that she dare not decipher lest the fear would spring once more in her heart. Clinging to Richard (he did not seem to mind all that much), she tried to control fears that threatened to spill over and expose themselves for all the world to see.

It was a relief then when the guard who had been leading them stopped in front of a cell. Turning round to them, the guard took his position at the opening of the cell, a little dark opening in the stone wall. Mary made out flickering shadows that moved constantly. She gulped as the guard clutched the iron wrought, rusting door of the prison and opened it with a strong tug outwards with a loud groan.

Richard stepped ahead of her as she inspected the entrance, as dingy as it was and the rats squeaking in the well-hidden crevices of the arch. She gulped before Richard gingerly offered his hand to her to lead her through the arch. She took it with an air of decisiveness (how couldn't she? It was her plan!) and delicately hitched up her kirtle to avoid stepping on the grime that littered the floor in abundance, languishing on the floor in palpable clumps.

The cell was small and the smell didn't prove to be any better than the outside. Mary felt her nose wrinkle involuntarily at the smell and she saw Richard was tempted to do the same as he inspected the cell. She thought to herself that he should be used to it, having been on campaign and all. A pile of straw was sat in the corner of the cell, with a small form sitting on it uncomfortably, hunched over their knees. Nails were filthy, unwashed. It was as if they had no access to water or anything they could clean themselves with in the weeks they were imprisoned. What terrible treatment!

"If you've come to kill me already, you should have brought me a priest first." The form said in a droll tone, the voice painfully familiar. Mary squinted her eyes and forced her eyes to adjust to the blinding darkness and tried to walk closer to the form with trepidation. Before she could, she felt a warm hand catch her arm before she could move forward. She turned her head in quick succession, to find Richard's piercing eyes flashing at hers with warning. "Do not be hasty, Mary." He said in a low voice.

The figure scoffed. "If you think I am ready to kill her again, you are mistaken my lord. As far as loyalty goes, mine will go beyond the grave. A lot of good that will do me." The form said the last sentence with such despondency that it moved Mary irrevocably; it's tone finally made sense in her head, the demureness evident.

"Joan, is that you?" Mary asked tentatively and tried to move closer to her, but was stopped by Richard's form as he moved in front of her, ready to take any shot that the figure would do. She instinctively moved closer to him, his woodsy scent more comforting and wholly more acceptable than the horrid smell in the hole that gave her dark shivers.

"My lady?" Joan's voice held a tinge of surprise as well as a hoard of sentimentality at being recognised by her former mistress. She tried to get up to greet her mistress but did not have enough strength to do so. Instead, Mary put an asking squeeze upon Richard's shoulder to allow her to get close to her former lady's maid. She knelt before Joan, making sure to keep her cloak underneath her kirtle so as not to ruin the fabric with the filth that lined this cell. "Oh, my lady! I do not know how to apologise for what I've done!" Joan cried in despair.

Mary tried to calm her down, shush her growing distress at the guilt Joan had kept bottled up within her. It must have been a terrible feeling, the guilt ravaging the soul and conscience and ripping it to shreds. Joan continued to sob into her hands, her body shuddering with the force of it. "It is of no matter to me now, I am alive. I had forgiven you in my heart when I had first opened my eyes, I could not live with anger in my heart. I only came down to talk because I wanted to learn of your motives, of why you wanted me dead." The thought of Joan wanting her dead gave a dull jab to her heart.

"No my lady, you were mistaken. I hadn't wanted to murder you! I had loved being in your service, you were always so kind to me, but my wages weren't enough. My father had gambled away what income I had provided for our family and I was too ashamed to ask for more of my lady's kindness. I looked elsewhere for other jobs I could do to raise the money my siblings needed and I found it. I was tasked with it because my family was in deep debt and we needed the money so badly!" She hiccuped as she said her confession to Mary, who had become intrigued by it. She hadn't wanted to murder her!

"You had need only to ask me for the money and I would have given it to you! You had done me many good years of service and I would have gladly repaid it." Mary said in comfort, which only seemed to drive Joan deeper into despair. "Who had asked this to you?" She asked quietly.

Joan shook her head violently. "I am not obliged to say, my lady." Joan said aloud. "They have forbidden me to reveal their identity." Mary felt her heart begin to sink with discontent at the thought, but then Joan pulled her in close to her. Mary tried not to offend her by staying still, her rancid breath hot on Mary's ear. "For you see my lady, the guards that stand guard are their spies, secretly in their debt. As for their identity, I tell you this milady: it is a lady of the river."

Mary felt her eyes widen at that and she wanted to press on at the topic. But she couldn't do so as Richard alerted the guards at Mary's breach of safety. The guards stormed in and pulled the prisoner apart from Mary, her voice unable to work as Richard pulled her away from Joan. "My lady, forgive me! Please forgive me!" Joan cried pitifully as they were separated brutally, Mary's arm outstretched, reaching for her old servant. Richard pulled Mary out of the cell, fearing that the prisoner would do something like that again. She wished that she had stayed and fought because as soon as she left the cell, she heard Joan's grunts of pain as she was surely being tortured. She could hear the men shouting at Joan, "You are a witch! Were you trying to kill the lady again?" Pained groans emanated from the dingy cell.

Mary fought to get back to Joan, distress overriding her logical mind. "Joan!" She cried. Richard tried to keep a hold of her and when he could not, he instead began to carry her, so that she might stop fighting against him and be powerless to do so. Tears fell down her flushed cheeks against her will as she began to beat Richard's chest in her anger. "Why would you do this? Why would you take me from her? She was not in any way harming me!" Mary cried, trying to stifle the sobs.

When he did let her down, she could not help what she did next. She slapped him with all her anger. His expression was one of shock, but she did not let it get in the way of her finding out what was going through his thoughts in doing that. "How could you? She repented for her crime, not that she was successful with it! She did not even wish it, Richard!"

He did nothing but stand there, waiting until her anger had passed over for her temper was like that of a cat's run: short bursts of energy. "Mary, I was keeping my vow: that I would protect you whilst you made your visit."

"Keeping me safe? From what?" She fumed. "She would be unwise indeed if she was to kill me in the cell with you!"

"Have I made a mistake then in trying to protect you?" Richard growled, but it didn't scare Mary. "You know that if you had died in that cell, it would be me answering to your family. And you have a very powerful family as well as a king who is interested in bedding you!" He pointed out aggressively.

Richard pointing out the king's interest in her irritated her profoundly. "So, my not getting killed in the cell was a blessing because you would not have had to answer to my family?" Mary said in an acute whisper, tears creeping out of her eyes. She felt the sobs rising in her.

Richard realised his mistake. Hesitantly, he tried to bring his hand up to stop her from crying and tried to reach out to her. "Mary." He said, but it was too late. He groaned inwardly at the slip of tongue as she ran away from him in tears of betrayal.

What had he done?

Mary found herself in her bedchamber, where she knew she would be left alone with her thoughts, undisturbed. She collapsed (rather dramatically, might I add) on top of her bed, with tear-stained cheeks.

Who could have commissioned such a terrible crime? Who would have wanted me dead at such a price?

A lady of the river…

Who could that be? There are so many women who could fit into that category. But it had to be a woman with a clandestine sort of power, who could influence behind the scenes without being noticed herself.

The opening of her chamber door interrupted her thoughts and Mary groaned aloud in frustration. "Richard, I have nothing at present to say to you. Leave me be!" She cried, her back towards her intruder.

"Mary, what has Richard done to you?" Mary felt her rib cage collapse in surprise; it wasn't Richard. It was Anthony. What was he doing here?

"I thought that we also weren't on speaking terms, brother." She whispered in a low voice. "What is it you want?" She asked, her voice almost hollow, if not for a hint of bitterness at the ignorance her brother had paid her.

She heard a heavy sigh behind her. "I was coming to look for you, because we had received important news." He said, but then a wave of a hand could be imagined behind her. "But it is of no matter at present. What has happened between Richard and yourself?" He asked, concern and anger swirling behind his calmly delivered words.

Mary rolled herself over to face him, the tears starting to stream down her cheeks once more. She couldn't keep this from him, not like this. She hiccuped slightly as she crawled over to the edge of the bed that was closest to Anthony as he pulled a chair at her bedside, the furs tickling her a little that it incited a bit of a giggle in her. "But you must swear an oath to me that you will not let anyone know of this." She croaked pointedly, her eyes tumescent.

Anthony looked at her solemnly. "Of course, sister." He tenderly took her hand. "You have my word."

Mary slumped against her covers, burying her face in the sheets to find comfort in them, to find the strength to revisit what had earlier transpired. "I had gone to meet my assassinator." She admitted quietly to him, avoiding his gaze as she was sure that it was fiercely burning, feeding upon the rage of the circumstances.

"Sister," He whispered lethally. "You had done what?" Mary looked up to see his reaction, his fingernails digging so dangerously into the polished oaken wood of her chair that she feared that he had damaged its facade. She answered him with silence, the tension now palpable between them with what had started as an encounter of comfort instead turned into one of interrogation. "Mary, I shan't repeat what I've said. What have you done?"

She looked him straight in the eye, unafraid of his temper. "I had gone to meet my assassinator." She enunciated slowly, punctuating each syllable that he may not misunderstand her.

She hadn't expected his next move.

Anthony suddenly leapt up in a lithe manner and took her by her shoulders, shaking sense into her. She felt the force of his fingers, yet he seemed to have been controlling himself as they were gentler with her than she had expected, gentler than he had been with the chair, at least.

"Pray tell, what had been going through your mind when you had allowed yourself to do that?" He snarled, Mary could see his eyes shining dangerously though as he brought her close to his visage, inciting a gasp of surprise from her lips. "Did you not think of the possibility of your assassinator attempting to take your life once more?"

"No, I hadn't thought of it." Mary admitted painfully. "But she wouldn't have done it with some guards and Richard present, that would've been-"

He lunged his face closer to hers, his eyes widening in his anger and his skin blushing scarlet in his temper. "She could've, dear sister, she could've!" He uttered through clenched teeth. "Do you not see the possibility that you could've been killed, snatched from m- our family once more!" He roared. "What gave you the idea that it would be safe for you to acquaint yourself with your assassinator?"

"I did not think of my safety," She said calmly, hoping to soothe his ire.

"So what was it that had brought you exactly to that cell?" He asked, almost mockingly. He let go of her and paced round her room, uncomfortable with sitting still. "Was it your curiousity? Your unquenchable desire to understand what had driven them to make an attempt on your life?" When his questions were met with a silence, Anthony felt his eyes widen in horror. He looked to her sharply, his gaze unbelieving. "No, Mary you would not. Please, say you did not."

"I will not deny that I went to relieve my curiousity on the matter." Mary put her hand up to stop her brother from bursting and roaring at her lack of a denial. "Please, let me speak." She gestured with a wave of a hand towards the chair that he had been almost mutilating in his attempt to rear in his anger. "Sit, please. I had gone to meet with my assassinator to understand their motives. Before that, I had constantly speculated in my thoughts who they had been and the reasons to take my life.

Thus imagine my surprise when I have found my assassinator not only to be someone who I knew, but was someone I had held dear. It was not an idea I had been prepared for but when she had confessed to me that she had not been the mastermind behind the assassination, I had believed her." She admitted to her brother, who she could see was struggling to bear the weight of his anger.

"Her?" Anthony questioned calmly as a darkening brow arched itself, but his fingers still dug into the varnish of the wood. "Who had it been, sister?" He expelled from himself the question he had been burning to know.

"You would not like it, Anthony, if I told you." She whispered to him, almost soothingly. But it seemed to catalyse his rage further.

"Mary!" He barked, leaning forwards as he began to breathe heavily. "Pray, do not keep this from me. Because I will rip this country apart to find who had done this to you!"

"Then why hadn't you done so already?" Mary asked, a hint of annoyance beginning to be coaxed out of her. "It has been a long time since my recovering and still you had done nothing about it. Tell me why then you had done nothing then I will tell you who it had been who had tried to make an attempt on my life."

"You will not like it either, sister, what I would tell you. It would be best if you had told me what you have kept from me thus far." Anthony proclaimed tiredly

"It had been my lady's maid, Joan." She replied quietly, not wanting to meet his gaze, her eyes swerving to the ceiling of her poster bed. "And what could be worse than that, brother dear?" She challenged him.

A moment of silence had passed as Anthony had collected himself. Mary's eyes still wouldn't meet his, her line of sight now fixed upon some gold tassels on her bed covers, glistening and dulling at once. "Lady Scales has married, at long last." He announced quietly.

"Oh?" Mary asked, surprised by the sudden news. It hadn't been something she had been expecting. She wasn't exactly disappointed at the news either. "Why haven't I seen you then at the end of the aisle?" She tried for a cheeky smile, but it had melted immediately when she realised his mood wasn't one for jesting.

"It is because it is Warwick who was the groom, not I." He admitted, rather emotionlessly. It was as if he was suppressing the pain within him.

Mary expected a feeling of happiness at the news. Nay, elation. This has been something that she has been praying for for years, since the conception of her betrothal to him. Not that it had ever progressed to that of matrimony, for which she was now thankful for. But now, that happiness had come at a price. Her brother now suffers in silence at the thought of the woman he loved marrying one of their family's bitterest enemies. It must have shattered what heart he had left. Gracefully, Mary stood up and went to kneel on his side, taking his rough hand in hers, in an attempt to comfort him.

"Anthony, she must not have truly loved you." Mary said. "After all, if she had truly, then amor vincit omnia. She must have only been after your status and your title."

"Why would she have been after my title? She is suo jure Baroness Scales, what would she want from my title?" Anthony scoffed. "She's had her own fortune to revel in, what would she have needed from me? Now, she's got Warwick's fortune under her thumb."

"What should that mean to you, brother?"

"It shouldn't have meant anything, dearest." He muttered soothingly, despite the lone tear stealing away on his cheek. Mary stood and slid her arms round him to offer comfort, tucking his head under her chin. He began to speak a mindless monologue that radiated strong doubt and bitterness. "Do you know the feeling, Mary? Of having to dream of your whole life but then having that dream snatched within a moment's notice?"

She shook her head. "You will know that feeling soon enough, with our family continuing to be on the throne. I sincerely doubt that any of our family will be given a chance at love; I seem to have already lost that privilege."

And her heart wept for him and pondered for her own.

Dinner that night had been a grand feast for an occasion that no one but the King seemed to know. The feast was as merry and as ostentatious as one would imagine his feasts to be, with dancers and jesters providing a show as the courtiers dined and talked amongst themselves. It seemed everyone had been merry that day, excepting Richard and Mary, who had placed together as was the usual seating plan nowadays. They sat in their world of silence as the outside world continued on in loudness and refined vulgarity. It had only been broken when Richard decided to break their tense atmosphere.

"Are we to continue to resign ourselves to this terrible silence?" Richard questioned, his voice a little husky from disuse. He gave Mary a side look.

"I did not think that I was the one who had jailed you to a prison of silence. You can talk to others around you, Richard." Mary pointed out, as she sliced delicately into her venison. "Being unsociable makes you more unlikeable, dear." She added condescendingly.

Richard growled frustratedly. "I hadn't started this conversation to have you insult me. Can you not see?" Richard asked pleadingly. "I am trying to apologise."

"Well," Mary said disappointed he didn't try to put up more of a fight. "Am I that easy now-a-days to beg forgiveness from? How very flattering." She grinned hollowly. "My brother would not have called me an easy forgiver."

"Of course you are, Mary." Richard stated, his expression morphed into that of disbelief. "Anyone who doesn't call you merciful will surely meet a death as grisly as that of sinners; you are practically a saint, dearest." He said solemnly.

Mary giggled uncontrollably at the advantageous facade he managed (not) to convince her with and it seemed that everything was becoming right between them. "So, this is the point in which you and I become friends once more?" Mary asked teasingly, no longer wanting to have such a tension-filled atmosphere next to him. Despite their argument having only been that very morning, it saddened Mary greatly that she couldn't talk to him or even be in his company. She felt almost hollow without his presence there to amuse her.

"That was the plan, Mary dear." Richard said, cheekily grinning at her. "Now, will you indulge me your forgiveness and proclaim our friendship restored?" He wiggled his eyebrows comically, making it harder for her to refuse him such a request. "Mary, your response?" He asked charmingly. A moment passed as she decided to keep her decision from him a moment longer. So he decided to use a method that would immediately extract it from her without much effort on his part: tickling. With her bodice being thick, Mary couldn't feel the full force of his tickles. But it didn't mean that she couldn't feel it at all.

Her pallor had become pink at the force of her subdued laughter. "Alright, alright!-it is now pax between us. Heavens above, Richard, you will make any woman forgive, whether by your charm or by your hand." She breathed heavily and tried to compose herself.

"Mary, you must know by know my charm as a single entity is an irresistible force." Richard smirked as he took a sip at his goblet. She chortled at that as he gave her an one-armed hug, pulling her closer to him.

Their display of amicable affection had been interrupted by that of a light cough from behind them.

Reluctantly, Mary turned round to see who it was and smiled as she found Anthony standing there, his eyebrows creased, whether with annoyance or anger, Mary could not tell. Nevertheless, it hadn't dampened her spirits and thus greeted him. "Anthony! What brings you here?" Mary inquired, mirth evident in her courtly smile. He shuffled slightly, revealing a noblewoman who was about a year or two older than Mary herself. "And who have you brought with you?"

"Dear sister, may I have the pleasure to introduce the Honourable Lady Blanche Depenser?" Anthony announced with an air of formality as well as a forced nature of contentment that fooled everyone else except his sister. "She is a second cousin of Lady Isabel and Lady Anne, as her grandfather was the youngest brother of the Ladies Isabel and Anne's grandfather."

Lady Blanche curtsied with grace as was expected of her station. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Mary." Lady Blanche gushed. "Your brother has told me much about you."

By introducing herself, Mary was allowed the opportunity to be able to study the woman before her. Her colouring was fair whilst her hair was flaxen, though russet strands in her hair made it darker than it seemed. Lady Blanche was slightly round, but not overly so that it made her appear plump. In fact, it seemed to Mary that it made Lady Blanche seem more agreeable to suitors in that she had more to offer than herself, who was more willowy in her structure. But there was something about her that made Mary instantly wary of her, as she began to realise a familiarity in the colour of her eyes. Those glaucous orbs had spied at her discreetly from across banquet halls at various times, when she herself was not conscious about it.

"Oh?" Mary asked coyly, a smile appearing upon her lips. "And what has he said about me? Good things, I hope?" She grabbed the goblet nearest to her and took a sip. Odd, it was empty. She hadn't had a drop of wine the whole evening. She looked into the goblet and felt a tap upon her shoulder.

"Mary, that's my goblet." Richard said, his cheeks flaming in embarrassment at having interrupted a conversation.

"Oh, my apologies." Mary said, hastily returning it into his care as she made a grab for her own goblet. She turned back to Lady Blanche, who had a soft, blank smile upon her features but seemed to have an irrepressible emotion that blazed in her eyes. "Because you see, my brother would take pleasure in any situation in which he could push to recommend himself further and slander my reputation with untruthful statements. Really, he finds the whole thing quite amusing."

Mary gestured for her to come closer. "Secretly, I think he enjoys it when any suitor who has taken an interest in me has been repulsed by my imaginary faults and leaves me for another. To be frank, it is a wonder that Richard has continued to be my most enduring companion despite his sex." She giggled at that thought and so did Lady Blanche, who despite her initial apprehension at liking the lady in question, had resulted in having been won over by Mary's infectious charm.

"What has prompted my brother to introduce you to me?" Mary asked teasingly, eyeing both of them cautiously. "Is this a new lady love, Anthony dear?"

Both of the mentioned parties blushed. Richard decided to join in the teasing looking for another source of amusement for himself. "No, dearest Mary." Richard said in an exaggerated fashion. "I think he was trying to introduce you to more female companions. I think he fears that you will turn into a man yourself and then where would he be?" Richard looked to Anthony dramatically. "Having one less sister and another brother."

Mary playfully slapped him as Richard enjoyed his joke at the expense of Anthony. "His Grace is partially right, dear sister. Only I had not noticed you, dearest sister, growing the part that so distinguishes males from females." Anthony said, a smirk blooming upon his handsome features.

Both Mary and Lady Blanche blushed at the ill-hidden, lewd remark as both Anthony and Richard had (unexpectedly) bonded over the joke. It had been a miracle indeed when Richard had at last stopped and decided to make conversation with their newest addition. "My Lady Blanche-" Richard was softly interrupted by the woman in question with a soft wave of a hand and a gentle, musical voice.

"Blanche, please." She said. "Let us all speak plainly with each other, for I think we are about to be fast friends."

Suddenly, Richard's eyebrows stiffened from its easy, playful demeanour into one of the courtly facades: bland and difficult to read. Had not Mary have known him so well, she would not have recognised his sudden change in temperament. "You've barely known us a night yet you claim to think that we are to become fast friends." He said bluntly. "How are we to be sure now that you are not just here to extract plots from us? That my brother has sent you to seduce either of us-" He gestured to himself and Anthony, "and manipulate from us false statements?" Mary put a calm hand on his knee to subdue his misplaced suspicions, which she felt was taut from the tension he was feeling. With her hand upon his knee, she felt him slightly calm down, but nevertheless retained his stance.

She smiled demurely, unfazed by his sudden accusations. "You wouldn't know until we have been well acquainted with each other, Your Grace or Richard, if you prefer?" She asked unassumingly, but the way she seemed to address him familiarly gave Mary sensations of unknown origins. She couldn't quite place what is was she was feeling, this swarthy feeling that seemed to clothe her heart tightly and send it galloping in rather strange beats.

"Then until that time, my lady, you cannot presume to call me by my Christian name." Richard returned curtly, immediately dampening the mood of the foursome.

Mary saw that Lady Blanche continued to look at Richard with unbridled interest, but how could she not? Mary thought to herself. Richard was one of the most interesting people she knew.

Anthony gave a small cough and asked the Lady a question. "What is your opinion thus far on my sister?"

"She is," She made a show of thinking and scrutinising Mary as Mary began to lean on Richard. "She is a very mysterious beauty, your sister. She looks as if she was pulled from a myth of nymphs and muses yet she acts as one of us, though was more witty than I expected."

Richard scoffed. "As she should be, Mary is no ordinary girl; she is like no other" He boasted proudly, sending Mary into a mixed feeling of embarrassment and pride.

"Indeed, your esteem for Lady Mary does you credit, Your Grace. " Lady Blanche seems to have almost been teasing, nay mocking, Richard's address as if she was trying to make a point.

Richard seemed to almost be irked by her presence and tried to make a hasty retreat with elegance. He stood and bowed to the Lady Blanche. "My sincere apologies for having to break up this rather stimulating conversation, but I find myself longing for some fresh air." He turned to Mary, his eyes communicating to her a covert message to understand the true meaning behind his words.

"Mary, would you like to accompany me as I get some fresh air?" Richard asked politely, though it was almost certainly a question that expects only one answer. Any other would be deemed by him as the wrong answer and thus unacceptable. He offered his hand out to her, making it more difficult for her to refuse his suit.

"Of course, I'd be delighted." She delicately took his hand and arose from her chair to stand beside him, tucking her hand at the crook of his arm instinctively.

Richard turned to both Anthony and Lady Blanche. "My Lord Anthony," Richard inclined his head as a sign of farewell. "My Lady Blanche," Another inclination. "Good evening to you both."

And Richard led Mary away from the boisterous festivities and into a place away from the court's prying eyes.

From Richard's sitting room, the merry-making of the court could still be heard, though only in faint thrums of music and the occasional string of high-pitched laughter. In entering the room, Mary immediately removed her shoes and let her feet dig and revel in the copious amounts of skins and rugs on the floor. The rugs had been put into the room after Richard had heard Mary complaining of the draftiness of the sitting room and thus decided after listening to a mindless suggestion that he put more rugs in place to make her more at home.

"The Lady Mary has at last decided to remove her shoes; how scandalous!" Richard mused out loud as he poured glasses of wine for both himself and Mary, inciting a chortle from Mary's lips. "Now, what are we to expect next from her? The removal of her stockings?" Richard said suggestively. "It will be a wonder then that your reputation wouldn't be compromised!" He began to laugh uncontrollably, though he strove to maintain some control as he held liquids in his hands.

Defiantly, Mary put a mocking pout on her features. "You very well know, Richard, that I adore your carpets. If you continue to mock my love for them, then you might never have the pleasure of my company once more." She declared imperiously, but because of the youthfulness she radiated, Richard could not help but laugh at her declaration.

"I sincerely doubt that, Mary, neither you or I will be able to separate from each other long. We will forever be tied to each other." Richard said, putting down the glasses of wine in his hand and pulling out Mary's chair for her.

"I hope you will make good on that statement, dear Richard. I might haunt you when we're both dead." Mary jested.

"I sincerely doubt that could happen, for I would be more likely to haunt you Mary." Richard said, with an air of seriousness. He took their glasses and handed one to Mary, who immediately took a sip from it and delighted in its tartness. Slowly, Richard took a seat by Mary's feet and leaned back unto her legs as both of them watched the dance of the flames, their little feet crackling.

"Now that, I will doubt, for you will always be there to make me laugh and chase my fears away." Mary said softly, a gentle laugh came from her as she played with strands of Richard's thick hair.

His cerulean blue eyes found her own in quick succession and he took her small hand in his own calloused ones and brought it to his lips. Where his lips met her skin, Mary felt tingling sensations pulsing strongly in that area and sent delicate flutters in her stomach into a frenzy of excitement and nervousness. She could not understand this feeling, much less understand how it was Richard was able to ignite it. It must be some malady from drinking the wine, Mary had thought to herself. Whatever the cause of it, nothing prepared her for when her heart had galloped faster than ever when he uttered the words: "Of course I will chase your fears away, for until death will do us apart, your fears are mine as well."

Her breaths became shallow and her lips parted in shock at the seriousness of declaration. Dear Lord, what is this strange feeling?

A/N: Hello! I'm back! I am so sorry for the late update, I've literally just finished a whopping blood bath of a week. I had 7 exams in a week, so it is fair to say that I am exhausted. I am happy to finally be back to writing and I had already begun to drop hints about what will happen; I just hope it wasn't too obvious! Don't forget, I really like constructive feedback as well as your own thoughts on what might happen! Until next time, Nemo xoxo