Ready at Your Hand

by dettiot

In the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, a Catholic plot against the queen comes to the attention of spymaster Sir Francis Walsingham. To protect Elizabeth, he develops an unusual plan: hide the passing of intelligence between two agents by a false romance. When Lady Sarah Walker and Chuck Carmichael meet, though, their pretend flirtation becomes much more.

10. Epilogue

Ready at Your Hand, Epilogue (10/10)

Author: dettiot

Rating: T

Summary: In the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, a Catholic plot against the queen comes to the attention of spymaster Sir Francis Walsingham. To protect Elizabeth, he develops an unusual plan: hide the passing of intelligence between two agents by a false romance. When Lady Sarah Walker and Chuck Carmichael meet, though, their pretend flirtation becomes much more.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck. No copyright infringement intended.

Author's Note: This concludes Ready at Your Hand, a story that has come to mean a lot to me. In a lot of ways, writing this fic has convinced me that I can write something that isn't fanfic. And all the great reviews and comments I've received along the way has strengthened that feeling. So maybe someday in the future, you'll see something written by me in a bookstore or on your e-reader! Here's hoping. Thank you for reading.

XXX

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold,

And who but my lady greensleeves.

Greensleeves

XXX

"So, Sir Francis, another plot has been unmasked?"

With a bow, the spymaster replied, "Yes, Your Majesty," before taking his seat across from the Queen. At his side was a small table, supporting a bottle of fine wine and four goblets.

Queen Elizabeth, seated on a plain wooden chair like his own, arched an eyebrow. These type of private meetings, held in out-of-the-way rooms in the palace and without any of the Queen's servants, were rare. They were also one of a few chances for monarch and subject to express themselves honestly and without reservations.

Knowing this, the queen pressed Sir Francis for information without making any attempt at politeness. "And will I be kept in the dark more than I already have been? What will you tell me of the details of this plot?"

"Your Majesty is already aware of the plot's outline," Sir Francis said, pouring wine into two of the glasses and passing one to her. "Count Mendoza and some minor nobles sought to raise your kinswoman, the Queen of the Scots, to the throne of England. I have long had my eye on Count Mendoza, as you know."

The queen sipped her wine, looking directly at Sir Francis over the rim of the goblet. "You have often argued for restricting the movements of Count Mendoza. Of any ambassador sent to our realm by the King of Spain."

"I have, Your Majesty," he said. "And I hope you might agree that such individuals, as sterling as they might be in their personal qualities, cannot be trusted as any other foreigner might be."

"Diplomatically, caution is urged before we classify ambassadors on the same level as thieves and rogues."

"Most of them have more in common with those classes of peoples than with honest men, Your Majesty," Sir Francis said with a touch of scorn.

The queen chortled softly. "Indeed, Sir Francis. It is a matter that bears further scrutiny, however. Getting back to the situation at hand-Count Mendoza has taken his leave?"

"He has, Your Majesty. Lord Burghley and I rescinded his ambassadorial status this very morning. He is in Plymouth now, awaiting a favorable breeze to take him back to Spain, and I have three loyal men tracking his every move until he is within the boundaries of that country."

"Very good, Sir Francis. Count Mendoza was little better than a weasel, and it is good to have him out of our country." The Queen leaned back in her chair.

Sir Francis was tempted to share that he considered the former ambassador more of a stoat, but he held his tongue rather than insult a nobleman, even if he was a Spaniard. Instead, he drank a little wine and changed the subject. "I have two matters I would like to put to Your Majesty."

She gestured for him to continue. "First, due to my health, I wish to withdraw to the country for a few months," he said, bracing himself for the Queen to lose her temper. She was notorious for insisting that her councilors remain close at hand regardless of infirmity or injury. As she noted, she could never withdraw from being Queen, a position she sometimes used in holding her councilors to a similar standard.

Fortunately, the Queen was feeling magnanimous today. "Dear Sir Francis, of course," she said, her voice round and rich. "You are like my Eyes, and we cannot have you suffer."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I am hopeful that with rest I shall be able to return a few weeks after Michaelmas." As he spoke, Sir Francis rubbed his stomach. His discomfort was tolerable today, but it had only been the force of his will that kept an attack from immobilizing him as his operatives had unmasked Count Mendoza.

The Queen refilled his glass. "You had a second matter to discuss, Sir Francis?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. I informed you that I had utilized one of your maids of honour as part of my plan to uncover Count Mendoza's plot, along with a gentleman who was attached to a noble's household." Sir Francis paused. "I wish to reveal their identities to you, so that they might be rewarded."

"Rewarded?" The Queen raised an eyebrow. "That all depends, Sir Francis. But please, make known who your helpers were." The Queen's voice was dry to the point of aridity. She was not pleased to find Sir Francis using members of her household in such a fashion-and she had made her feelings known very strongly last week, when he had explained how he knew that Count Mendoza should be expelled.

"I enlisted Lady Sarah Walker and Mr. Charles Carmichael. You might remember, Your Majesty, how you had them dance for you at the recent court banquet-"

"Of course I remember," snapped the Queen. "God's death, Sir Francis, I am still firmly in possession of all my wits, in spite of my fiftieth birthday approaching."

"Yes, Your Majesty, of course," Sir Francis said, weathering the storm. "Lady Sarah and Mr. Carmichael formed a feigned relationship, in order for the Earl of Lincoln to not realize he had a spy in his household."

"Feigned, you say?" The Queen looked skeptical. "Sir Francis, we do not believe you. We saw every sign of love between the Lady Sarah and her young man."

"They both fulfilled their roles most admirably, Your Majesty, but it was counterfeit." He rose from his chair. "They are waiting in the outer chamber, hoping for an audience with you-perhaps they could explain how they so ably acted like lovers."

"Bring them in," the Queen commanded. "If nothing else, they should be recognized for fooling the Queen of England."

XXX

Chuck gazed at Sarah as they waited to see if the Queen would speak to them. She was standing in front of the window, gazing out at the gardens. "You look very beautiful today, Sarah."

She turned and smiled at him, the skirts of her dress swishing against the rushes on the floor. Her dress was a lovely green silk, one that he didn't recognize. "Is that a new dress?" he asked, walking over to her.

"New for me," Sarah said, doing a small twirl. "Catherine swapped it to me, for a red dress of mine. Since someone doesn't like me in red." She gave him a small, teasing smile.

"I only said that I preferred you in colors other than red," he said, taking her hands. "It doesn't matter, though, since you're beautiful in any color."

In his heart of hearts, Chuck had another reason for not liking Sarah in red. He had been confused when he had opened his eyes in John Casey's lodgings and seen Sarah in a revealing red frock, but when she had explained why she was wearing that dress . . . Chuck had felt the out-of-character urge to find Mendoza and make him pay. It would be a while until he could see Sarah in a red dress and not think of that. Hopefully, Sarah did not hold his weakness against him.

"Do you think the Queen will want to see us?" he asked Sarah, gazing at her.

She gave an elegant shrug. "Perhaps. It depends on what Sir Francis tells her. And how sympathetic she is towards your bruises."

After a week, Chuck's injuries were much recovered. True, his ribs were still tender, and now he felt an ache in one knee before it rained. But the bruises on his face had faded to pale yellowish-green splotches, and his cuts were nearly healed. He was confident that in another few days, he could begin looking for a new position.

It was something he was worried about, truthfully. He had no reference from Mr. Milbarge or the Earl of Lincoln, so he was back to where he had begun, back to being the friendless, penniless nobody he had been when he first arrived in London. And the longer it took him to find a position, the longer it would take until he had enough money for marriage.

Looking at Sarah, Chuck felt his heart swell with hope in spite of his bleak prospects. She had become the center of his world. Although he had not officially asked her to marry him, it almost didn't matter. They had already made a commitment to each other. In the last week, she had spent as much time as she could with him, visiting him in his lodgings at Cheapside. With Morgan as a chaperone their relationship remained somewhat chaste, but Chuck found he didn't mind. At least, not much.

But they were still getting to know each other. He sensed that Sarah would need time to be truly ready to become his wife. And there was still much he needed to learn about himself, too. So not rushing into marriage seemed wise to him, if that was how their situation played itself out.

"Are you nervous?"

Sarah's voice drew him out of his thoughts and he looked at her in confusion. "Your hands are a bit sweaty," she said gently.

"Oh!" He yanked his hands away and rubbed them against his hose. "Um, would you believe it's because it's warm in here and this doublet is heavy?" He gestured towards his silvery-blue doublet, even though it was clearly obvious it was made from lightweight fabric.

"You've already met the Queen once, Chuck. And her bark is much worse than her bite." Sarah rubbed his arm carefully, still wary of his injuries.

"That was different. I hardly said anything except what you told me to say, in order to get on the Queen's good side," Chuck protested. "Besides, this time, I'm not playing a part. I'm just me."

She looked up at him, then stepped in close to him, resting her hands on his hips. "The Queen likes people to be honest. Don't try and think up something incredibly charming to say because she'll see right through you. Be honest, be yourself, and you'll be fine." She paused, then gave him a small smile. "You're usually charming without realizing it, you know."

"I am?" he asked doubtfully, even as he cupped her elbows in his hands and drew her a bit closer.

"Yes, you are." Sarah pecked his lips before pulling away. His expression must have looked grumpy, because she laughed softly. "I'm not about to be caught kissing you by Sir Francis or the Queen."

Chuck reached out and took her hand, pulling it to rest in the crook of his arm. "You're still sure about your decision? To cut ties with Sir Francis?" Feeling the flutter of nervous energy, he started walking around the room with her.

"I am sure," she said, looking up at him and keeping pace with him. "I swear to you, Chuck, I didn't make this decision lightly, even if I made it rather quickly." She brought her other hand to rest on his arm as well. "I've made my peace with not being a spy."

He smiled sheepishly at her. "I know I keep asking . . . I think it's more for my own sake than anything else. If I keep hearing the words, they will sink in eventually."

"Yes, well, if you keep asking, I might have to see whether those fencing lessons I received actually work," Sarah said sweetly.

Swallowing, Chuck nodded. "Yes, right. Understood. You're fine and I don't need to worry about this."

"You don't need to worry about anything," she said, leaning against his side. "Or else I'll write to Eleanor and ask her what sort of disgusting tinctures can be used to revive vigor and spirit."

Chuck stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would," Sarah said, a wide smile spreading across her face.

"Then-then I'll ask Lady Catherine for embarrassing stories about you," he said, grasping for straws.

Sarah quirked an eyebrow. "Do you really think my friend would help you like that?"

"It's Catherine," he countered, watching as Sarah's forehead wrinkled and actual concern bloomed in her eyes.

"You make a good point," she admitted as Chuck laughed. "I think we should draw a truce. No going to sisters or friends for blackmail material."

"Deal," Chuck said, leaning down to steal a quick kiss to seal their bargain.

Of course, it was just at that moment the doors to the inner chamber opened and Sir Francis stepped out. He cleared his throat, a small grin touching his lips, but his voice was dispassionate as he said, "Lady Sarah, Mr. Carmichael? The Queen wishes to speak with you."

Chuck straightened up, trying to school his expression. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He glanced at Sarah as they followed Sir Francis into the room. He was sure that through her hand on his arm Sarah could feel the tension in his body. She looked nervous now, too. He wished there had been a chance for him to give her a pep talk, like the one she had given him. But all he could do was cover her hand on his arm with his free hand as they walked into the next room.

XXX

Taking a deep breath, Sarah prepared herself for this conversation. The Queen did not like hearing that her maids of honour had interests outside of Her Majesty. Not only had Sarah fallen in love, she had worked with Sir Francis, going behind the Queen's back to guard her safety.

Chuck might not be the only one without a position by the end of the day.

Looking up at him, she drew courage from him. She knew he was worried about what might happen during this interview, yet he held his head high and didn't falter as they approached the Queen.

As Chuck bowed low, Sarah sank into a deep curtsy. "Your Majesty," they both said in unison.

"Rise and be seated," the Queen said after a long moment. Sarah had no sense of how the Queen felt from her voice, and her expression remained blank as Sarah and Chuck took their seats.

"We understand from Sir Francis that you are both better actors than fully half of the Queen Elizabeth's Men," the Queen said, referring to the troupe of actors that were under her sponsorship. She gestured towards Sir Francis, who began filling some goblets with wine. "How else to explain how you pretended to be in love so perfectly?"

"To be perfectly honest, Your Majesty, I was not pretending," Chuck said. "I fell in love with Lady Sarah within moments of our first meeting." He took the glass from Sir Francis and held it in a tight grip.

"Hmm, yes," the Queen said, looking at Chuck over the rim of her own goblet. Then she looked at Sarah. "And you, Lady Sarah?"

"In looking back, it happened just that quickly for myself, Your Majesty," Sarah said, unable to stop herself from glancing over at Chuck. "However, I spent more time fighting my emotions."

"And why is that, Lady Sarah?" The Queen looked curious, but also calculating. Like her mind was turning over Sarah's words, preparing to make some kind of statement.

Sarah took a moment to organize her thoughts, covering her delay by taking a small sip of wine. "I thought my life would go in one direction, but meeting Mr. Carmichael presented a different path. And it was difficult to step off the path I had been on and take a new one."

"So you see love as a journey, then?"

"I . . . I suppose so . . ." Sarah said, feeling embarrassed. It was one thing to discuss her feelings for Chuck with the man in question, but with Sir Francis listening and the Queen's eyes pinning her down, she felt flustered and tongue-tied.

Suddenly, Chuck's hand reached across the space between their chairs and took Sarah's hand. "I would certainly say that love is a journey, Your Majesty," he said, his voice low. "Not unlike life. We are all walking a path towards some unknown destination. Some alone, some with those that we love. I am lucky enough to have found the person I hope to walk with for the years to come."

She must look like a starry-eyed girl at the moment, Sarah thought in the back of her mind. But she couldn't help gazing at Chuck, feeling her heart bloom with love for him.

"Very prettily put, Mr. Carmichael," the Queen said, setting aside her goblet of wine. "Sir Francis has spoken highly of both of you. He says our throne remains secure due to your efforts, and for that, we are grateful."

"Your Majesty's safety was all we desired," Sarah said, feeling her cheeks flush at the unexpected compliment.

The Queen nodded, accepting Sarah's words simply as what was due to her as the monarch. "And there was mention of a reward. Mr. Carmichael, I understand you are looking for a new position."

Chuck leaned forward slightly in his chair, his hand tightening around Sarah's. "Um, yes, Your Majesty. That is correct."

"Lord Burghley has informed me that we are of need of a new high sheriff of Lancashire. Of course, the position is unpaid, so it typically goes to a landowner in the county. Therefore, we have a small estate that we wish to deed upon you both."

Sarah blinked, then nearly gasped as Chuck crushed her hand. "E-ex-excuse me, Your Majesty, but you-you're giving us an estate?" he stuttered as Sarah was unable to speak from her shock.

The Queen rose, and Sir Francis stood up immediately. It took both Chuck and Sarah a moment longer to scramble up. "For as long as either of you shall live, the estate shall be yours, to enjoy all its benefits and profits." She narrowed her eyes at them. "We expect you to build up the estate and repay our faith in you."

"Yes-yes, Your Majesty," Sarah said, her surprise making her stumble over her words. Lancashire was part of the Queen's personal holdings. If she gifted them one of her estates, it impacted the funds she used to run her household. It was a tremendous mark of respect and regard to be granted such a reward.

Chuck's voice shook with sincerity and gratitude. "Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you so much."

"It will be enough for a young couple, just starting out in life," the Queen said. "And as you improve the estate, it will be enough to support your children, provide them an education and status for their futures."

Both of their faces must be red as roses, Sarah thought. She glanced at Chuck and found that while his cheeks were flushed, he still looked dazed.

"Lord Burghley will make the arrangements with you both," the Queen said before sweeping out of the room. Sir Francis nodded to them and followed the Queen.

Sarah turned to look at Chuck, a wide smile on her face. "Can you believe that?" she asked, throwing her arms around his neck.

He hugged her back, then pulled away. "No. No, I can't believe it!" Chuck's eyes were wide and he ran his hands through his hair. "Me-us-owning an estate? Being landowners? That's crazy! I don't know anything about that-do you? Will we make enough from the estate to live on? What if the animals die? What if the crops are flattened by bad weather? What if the villagers don't like us? What if-"

"Chuck!"

"Huh?" he said, shaking his head and stopping his stream of babble.

She stroked his shoulders. "I know it's overwhelming, but this is good news. Now we could start talking about getting married-" Sarah paused as an idea crossed her mind. Maybe he wasn't so scared about having an estate, but by having an estate with her, by having any barriers to being married to her removed . . . "It is good news, isn't it?" she asked softly, looking at him as she nibbled softly on her lower lip.

It took him a moment, but the fog lifted from his eyes and he focused on her. He gave her a small smile and lightly stroked her cheek. "Yes. Yes, it's good news."

"I thought it was good news," she said in agreement, feeling some of the fear fade away.

"It's the best news," he said, cupping her face in his hands before kissing her softly.

Closing her eyes, Sarah kissed him back, holding him tightly. Now Chuck could stop worrying. Now they had a future together. It was all happening a bit faster than she had expected-she had thought she would have a few months, maybe longer, to prepare for being a wife. But each night, it had become harder and harder to leave Chuck. Now they had an opportunity, one that would let them stay together and make something for themselves.

Sarah sighed softly against his lips as the kiss ended. "No more worrying?" she asked, looking up at him.

"None for the moment," he said, grinning at her. "It's the power of kissing you."

Even as her cheeks went pink, Sarah smiled at him. He truly was charming and sweet. And soon, he would be hers.

Together, they walked out of the chamber, hand-in-hand. Sir Francis was waiting for them.

"Sir Francis?" she asked, looking at him.

"Congratulations to both of you," he said, the corners of his mouth quirking into a smile. "I take it the Queen's gift was unexpected?"

"Very," Chuck said with another grin.

"Of course, you realize that as landowners, and with Mr. Carmichael as the high sheriff, you'll need to stay out of trouble. No excitement or adventure, like working in my network," Sir Francis said, his voice low.

Sarah looked up at Chuck. He looked back, his eyebrow quirking a little. And she realized that although he didn't want to be a spy, it didn't mean they couldn't find their own adventures. Ones that they could share together.

"I suppose you're right, Sir Francis," she said, keeping her eyes locked on Chuck. "It's a nice, quiet life for both of us."

Chuck nodded. "Yes, exactly. Running an estate, getting the crops in. Normal things."

"No adventures at all," Sarah said, giving Chuck a small smile.

And when he squeezed her hand, she knew that they were in complete agreement.

End.