Twenty-one:
Loud and Clear

Ruth paused, looked her up and down and replied, "And you must be Jane." She hoped her words didn't sound caustic – the last thing she wanted was to provoke the woman.

"It's rather unfortunate for Henry to have picked two women with nearly the same name," Jane commented dryly.

"He calls me by my middle name," Ruth replied. "Portia, finish your carrots," she said in a calmer, gentler tone, "and then you can dance with Graham and granddad."

Portia stabbed a carrot viciously with her fork and made a face as she ate it. Of course, she was also watching Jane and her mother with rapt fascination, as well. It was almost laughable.

Graham cleared his throat and said, "Mum, have you gotten anything to drink yet? Or anything to eat?"

"No, I wanted to see you," Jane said simply. "Where is your sister?"

"She couldn't make it," Ruth spoke up. "There was an accident and Cate and Grace were both injured. It made no sense for them to try to get onto a plane after that."

"And she couldn't have called me to –"

Before she could stop herself, the words were already out between them. "Did you ever think that maybe she doesn't want to talk to you?" More balls than brains… "After Stephen died, you didn't even acknowledge that he'd existed. It's no wonder she lives in California."

Jane's eyes were dark and cold. "Who are you to tell me –"

"I'm her best friend," Ruth said simply. "I'm the one that held her and comforted her and told her that everything would be all right soon, even though I hadn't a bloody clue if it was true or not. Because that's what you do for the people you care for." She glanced down and saw that Portia had finished her tea and her carrots. "Up with you, love," Ruth murmured. "Go get your granddad to turn on the music and dance with you."

As soon as Portia was gone, Jane said, "You do realize you look ridiculous, don't you? What a completely inappropriate dress for a party with the royal family in attendance –"

Ruth turned to face her and said, "I don't care. If you think that taking pot shots at me because I'm the new Mrs. Pearce is going to make you come out smelling like roses, so be it. But I don't care about your opinion. You lost your right to Harry when you signed the divorce papers, and what he and I get up to is no concern of yours now."

"Except it is my concern when David decides he's going to change the succession and write my children off completely," Jane hissed. "How dare you just waltz in here, bat your eyes at him like a bloody cow, and put your little bastard in his head as an appropriate –"

Ruth blinked. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said.

"Oh please," Jane snorted. "Like you didn't marry Henry for his money and his father's prestige –"

"Actually," Ruth interrupted, "I didn't know until two days ago about the peerage. And even if I had known before then, it wouldn't have mattered. I didn't marry Harry because he's the heir of something. I married him because I bloody love him. And, really, I have no idea what you're talking about David changing the succession." She looked over at Graham, who shrugged in non-committal reply. "Of course Graham should have it all as the eldest son – that's how it works, isn't it?"

Jane crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "Yes, typically, that's how it works," she muttered. "I was an only child, so mine passed to me. And when I die, Harrowood will pass to Graham."

Ruth nodded. "Which is as it should be –"

"But David and Henry are plotting between them," Jane said irritably. "Trying to write Graham off the succession in favor of Portia Williams."

Ruth blinked. "I swear I know nothing about this," she said firmly. "Why would – why on earth would they do that without talking to me?"

That irritating smirk came back onto Jane's lips; Ruth restrained the urge to wipe it off her face entirely. "Because, my dear, you don't matter," Jane said. "You'll learn that soon enough; no matter what Henry says, he only wants you for sex and the ability to provide an heir to the estate. And I've already provided the heir, so all he wants is you in his bed. Other than that, you are nothing."

"That isn't true," Ruth said, hearing and feeling her voice falter. "It isn't," she tried again, but the words weren't any stronger than they had been before. She took a step backward and then turned away, refusing to listen to Jane anymore.

"It's a good trick, though," Jane said, "claiming he's the father of your child."

The dam broke; Ruth whirled around and was in Jane's face as quickly as she could move. She shoved the older woman harshly against the wall and snarled very quietly, "Do not ever presume to know what you have no idea of. I am not some naive little twit you can push around, Jane."

"Janet, let go of her," Graham said, and she felt his hand on her wrist, trying to loosen her grip. "Please. Before someone sees and you get carted off."

Ruth released Jane and clenched her teeth hard, trying to remain calm. Jane was spluttering, and Ruth said very quietly, dead quietly, "Portia is Harry's child." And with that, she walked away.

She wound her way through the crowd, pausing for a moment to watch Portia and David dancing. But as soon as she caught herself, she kept going. Harry followed her and she pulled away from him when he touched her. "No," Ruth exhaled forcefully.

He put his hands up in surrender, and she backed away. "I should never have let Jane get that close to you," Harry said quietly.

"She's made it abundantly clear what I am to you," Ruth spat. "I'm just some shag of convenience – a gold-digging trashy whore you just so happen to love enough to marry."

"That isn't true," he hissed. "Lower your voice."

"I fell into bed with you within hours of meeting you again – and then I just let you whirl me around a bit and put rings on my finger and wedding bells and – fuck you, Harry," she whispered, the words harsh and angry. "I'm a joke to everyone here, aren't I?"

"If you are, then so am I," he growled. "I don't care what the rest of them think about us. Let them think it. They're wrong. Do you hear me? Do you understand me? The only thing that matters is us – you and me. And we want to be together. We are together."

"I don't want you and David to change the succession," she said sharply. "This goes to Graham or no one –"

The worry lines between his eyes grew, deepened, and his eyes darkened with anger. "Is that what she told you? She was preying on your naivety, Ruth – father and I would never change anything without permission from all parties involved. That means consent from Catherine, Graham, and you."

She tilted her chin up stubbornly and said, "You'd better mean that or I'm going to give you a punch on the nose."

"I mean it," he said firmly.

She pulled away from him and began to pace. "I love you," she said, trying to reason it out in her head. "I do – but all of this, I don't know if I can accept it or thrive in it."

"I'm not asking you to," he shot back. "I want you to be happy; this doesn't make me happy. Why would it make you so?"

"I'm not the same person I was," she said very quietly. "How can I be, on my own for eleven years with a curious little girl who only ever wanted you and me to be together, for us to be a family, and I let her down. I let myself down – god, Harry, I let you down," she exhaled in a rush of agony. "And now this, all of it – I can't let you down again. I can't."

He pulled her into his arms and held her close, shielding her from everything. "You have never let me down, my love," he whispered, his hands running up and down her back, comfortingly. "Not once. Well… honestly, when you refused my offer of a second date, but that's just my ego being bruised."

"But I kept our daughter from you –"

"Out of fear," he whispered. "Out of necessity. Not out of malice."

She shook her head and snuggled closer into him, closing her eyes, listening to his heartbeat through the fabric of his clothes. "No, god knows… if I could have come home, brought her with me, I would have. I would've given anything to be able to see your face when we'd come home together."

"I don't care about that," he said gently. "What matters isn't the past – the whatifs and wherefores – but us, now, here… together. We've got a beautiful child together, Ruth, and nothing will change that. I love you. Nothing will change that. We're married. And unless you plan on being a twat, nothing is going to change that."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning… I won't ask you for a divorce," he said very quietly. "It would be balls in your court."

"The only balls I want in my court are yours," she said very firmly.

"I asked Jane for the divorce," he admitted. "She'd been shagging the nanny… Alyssa. The woman she's here with tonight. They made a bloody go of it afterward. Turns out she only married me at all because her parents forced her to, rather than have her go off onto the Continent and live a rather bohemian lesbian lifestyle. Obviously, neither of us were very happy together."

"You had your affairs and she had hers," Ruth murmured. "And neither of you forgave the other."

He huffed. "It's hard to forgive the mother of your children for fucking another woman under your roof, sometimes within earshot of the children. I don't know if it would've been better if she'd been seeing a man. I don't know. It all hurts desperately when you find out that you aren't enough."

She laughed softly. "God, that's ironic… Harry Pearce being annoyed at not being enough for someone."

"The only woman I'm worried about not being man enough for is Portia," he said very quietly. "I'm a piss-poor father and I don't want to damage her."

She gave him a gentle kiss and whispered, "I love you. You are more than enough for me, Harry Pearce."

David grunted, "There you two are… there's cake and you two just up and disappeared." He hobbled up behind them and said, "And Jane is a bloody nuisance. I can't believe I pressured you into marrying her, Henry."

Harry exhaled a sigh. "She upset Janet," he said cautiously.

"I can speak for myself," Ruth pointed out. "David… she said that you intend to change the succession."

David sighed. "How did that bloody woman – well, I guess the staff will talk, won't they? And most of them sided with that woman after the divorce." He huffed and made another grunt of disgust. "What I do with my estate is none of her bloody business. She has her own troubles."

Harry frowned. "I assured Janet that no decisions would be made without her consent," he said. "So don't go doing something stupid, father."

David pulled a face and muttered, "You always did spoil my fun. Anyway… there's cake and champagne. Portia is beginning to droop, so Elizabeth and I set her up with her cake and –"

"And then I'll take her to bed," Ruth interjected.

"I'll come with you," Harry said.

"No, you stay and enjoy yourself," she said softly. "I'm sorry I got upset. I need time to calm down." She needed time to come to terms with the fact that her Harry would go behind her back about something so vitally important. She needed time to understand why he would so quickly go back to keeping her in the dark like he didn't trust her.

She just needed some bloody time to come to grips with it all.

It was nearly midnight when Harry was finally able to excuse himself from the guests and retreat to the safety of their room. Ruth hadn't come back down after putting Portia to bed; he found himself unable to blame her one tiny little iota for that. He'd taken Jane aside, out of the public gaze, and had a few incredibly painful words with her. His jaw was still aching from where she'd hit him and called him an unfeeling bastard. But it had been worth it to see the look on her face when he made it very clear that she had no rights – or claims to any rights – in his family line anymore.

Their children were adults, with their own rights and their own children; they didn't need their mother to interfere on their behalf. And, repeating his earlier promise, nothing would be done without their consent – if not enthusiastic approval.

That had incited another fist flying toward him, but he'd dodged it. It was all much too close, emotionally and physically, to the end of their marriage to make him feel any kind of satisfaction in standing up for himself, for Ruth, for Portia. Her hurtled insults against Ruth were enough to make him sick; knowing she was jealous was one thing, but hearing the slurs was another. In the end, he very quietly told her that she was no longer welcome and to take her leave immediately before he had words with the MI-5 officers stationed around the house. (He should know they were there. Erin Watts and Dimitri Levendis were pretending to be guests, gawping about the place and ostensibly 'protecting' the Home Secretary.)

His heart was heavy as he went to the Yellow Room to check on Portia. He was determined not to be a failure as a father with her; the insanity of the night was clearly undermining that capability. He hadn't even wished her a good night or given her a kiss good night.

He went into the room and checked to make sure she was asleep. She was asleep on her back, one arm clutched around her threadbare teddy bear and her mouth open as she breathed deeply. He leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, then retreated from the room before he could wake her.

Dimitri was waiting for him in the corridor, a half-drunk glass of wine in hand. Apparently, the Home Secretary was in the room next door to Portia's, and he'd just retired for the night, or Dimitri wouldn't be standing guard. "Harry," he greeted with a small smile. "Retirement suits you."

Harry snorted a little and shook his head. "Forced medical retirement," he corrected. "The Service frowns on you having a near heart attack and then attempting to carry on as if nothing happened."

"But you found something better," Dimitri replied with a bit of a smirk on his lips.

Harry sighed and shook his head. "I found the part of me that was missing," he corrected, "and I rectified the situation. Or at least, I thought I had – till my ex-wife made a bloody nuisance of herself and has probably made the love of my life run out on me." He ran his hand through his sparse hair and muttered, "My head is aching something fierce. I shouldn't have had so much to drink."

"Your wife's daughter reminds me of Rosie," Dimitri said. "Erin and I… we got married a few weeks ago. It's a big adjustment; Rosie just wants to be near me all the time because she's not had a dad."

Harry nodded curtly, unwilling – and unable – to talk about it. "You carry on, Mr. Levendis; and congratulations to you both," he said softly before he retreated.

The lights were off in the White Room, and he made it most of the way to the bed before he tripped on a wrinkle in the rug and landed flat on his face with a thud and an exhalation of pain. He heard Ruth turning over in bed, then the light came on from her side of the bed, illuminating the room in dim light.

"Do you need help up?" she asked, her voice soft and husky with exhaustion.

"No, I'll manage," he muttered, somehow managing to sit up despite the pain in his knee and the sudden flurry of other pains that were cropping up. The worst were the fluttering chest pains; he knew they were linked to his blood pressure but that didn't make them any easier to live with. "Ruth, I'm sorry –"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," she sighed.

"Well, we need to – we shouldn't go to bed angry," he pointed out.

"I'm not angry." Her words were quiet and intense, belying the statement. "I'm tired and I don't want to fight with you. We can argue when we get back to London. Or not at all, preferably."

He fumbled with his tie and jacket, not caring that he was still sat on the floor. "Well, I am angry," he muttered. "I'm furious about this whole nightmare that Jane has plunged us into. What conversation passed between my father and I about the succession was private; his staff, clearly, is prone to gossip if she knew it. We've spoken to Catherine and she wants no part of any of it; not her mother's line and not mine. Graham is more interested in Harrowood than Bly, and he has no issue with father writing Portia in as the sole beneficiary of their generation. But I wouldn't have done anything without your bloody consent in writing," he muttered.

"Harry, I'm not doing this," she said in a low, firm voice. "Not tonight."

"I've said my piece," he grunted. It took a moment for him to get to his feet, and when he did, he was swaying, dizzy from the effort. The pain in his head had to be his blood pressure rising; the pain in his chest was another story, getting worse by the second. His fingers started tingling, his left arm went numb. "Ruth," he gasped. "I need –"

"You need to come to bed," she said.

"No," he gasped, croaking. "I need – ambulance – aspirin – my – my heart –"

She was out of bed in an instant, rushing to him, ignoring his gasping plea. If he was having a heart attack, he needed an ambulance soon as, and aspirin before that. He vaguely heard her shouting for help, vaguely felt her hands on him, before darkness overtook him.

His last thought was, I can't die and leave her alone again…

END PART TWENTY-ONE