Chapter 25: Institute Emails
"Cornelius rang up just now," Uther said to Arthur at lunch. They – Uther, Arthur, Merlin, Elaine, and Mordred – were sitting at the dining room table, grazing on an assortment of dishes. Uther had been out all morning, but upon returning at midday he looked quite pleased to hear that his son, and his son's conservator, had been impressed with the quality of Sigan's tapestry.
"He says you're going to see him this afternoon, to discuss conditions and so on."
"I really don't know what he's on about," said Arthur, trying not to sound irritated. "What conditions? That we only display it every second Wednesday? That it has to be guarded daily by knights in shining armor? That we have to praise him to the skies when the press asks us where we got it? As a choir sings in the background?"
Mordred sniggered, Elaine hid a smile behind her hand, and Uther looked displeased.
"That sort of levity is not going to get us anywhere," he said ponderously. "This is an important object, and we need to do our best to make certain it comes to us. Other museums and curators have been wooing Cornelius. Cenred at the National Gallery, for example, and Bayard at the V and A. Not to mention all of those American museum directors."
"Of course, Father," Arthur murmured dutifully. "Oh, I sent emails to Morgana, Gwen, and Gaius this morning, before breakfast." He had written them on his BlackBerry, sitting up in bed with Merlin, shortly before getting dressed. It had taken longer than was strictly necessary; Merlin's chin had been propped on his shoulder as he tried to read the text Arthur was typing onto his screen, Merlin's spiky hair kept tickling his cheek, and one of his hands had dropped down into Arthur's lap. "It's likely they'll have replied by now. And I did speak with Morgana, a little while ago."
"She was enthusiastic, I suppose."
"Entirely," Arthur said shortly. "She was babbling down the phone for an hour."
"Ah," said Uther, suddenly looking much more cheerful. "I'll go and see if they've sent any messages to me." He stood up and then suddenly directed a look at Merlin. "I imagine you noticed the…the resemblance."
"Erm, it took me by surprise," Merlin responded honestly, and Uther's brow wrinkled.
"Yes, well," he muttered, scanning Merlin's face with a judicious frown. "I've been looking at that tapestry for years, hoping that Sigan would gift it to us. It's only recently that I realized…of course, that was after I interviewed you for your present job."
Merlin remembered his interview with Uther, in London, with an inward shudder. That had been shortly before he left his small London flat for New York, and another small flat. Just before he began work at the Institute, before Arthur. Uther was still frowning, and Merlin felt a jolt of indignation.
"Of course I'm hardly the ideal model for a tapestry figure," he said, allowing his accent to become more pronounced, smiling politely, but looking the senior Pendragon straight in the eye.
Uther looked mildly surprised but clearly did not know what to say in response. Instead, he disappeared into his study and Merlin breathed an inaudible sigh of relief.
"A pity we couldn't bring some of Leon's security guards with us to Sigan's, this evening," he said quietly to Arthur.
Arthur mumbled "Oh bugger it," without meaning for anybody else to hear, but evidently Mordred had, because he actually laughed out loud.
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There were several emails from the Institute waiting for Arthur, and he opened them knowing more or less what they would say.
Stepbrother dear, I hope the Kensington house hasn't exploded in my absence. I don't know that I particularly care for the place, and hope they finish renovating our own home soon. Thanks for ringing me earlier, I agree that Sigan's tapestry would look well in Gallery Four. With the public entering from the "garden court," the effect would be splendid. When does the gift become official? We'll need an independent appraisal, for insurance purposes. How was your dinner with the odd duck? I've never been to his home, but I always imagined that it looks like a mausoleum. Was his wife her usual chatty self? I'll bet hubby dresses up in her lacy knickers. Needless to say, you're not to show this to Uther. Give my love to Mordred. Morgana.
Gaius' email was a bit more to the point, although Arthur could tell that he had written it before his afternoon tea.
Dear Arthur, I'm delighted to hear about the condition of the tapestry, and trust Sigan will make the gift official as soon as possible. If you have the opportunity to examine it again, do check to see whether the backing is in stable condition, as we plan to hang the piece soon after its arrival. You can ask Merlin for his opinion. It's been a trying day, as the gold leaf is flaking on one of our psalters, and somebody has made off with my best magnifying glass. Whoever stole it should be hanged, flogged, and hanged again. Gaius.
There was a brief message from Gwen.
Dear Arthur, So glad to hear about the tapestry. I had a look at the photo with Gaius' best glass, and that figure (although it's a bit difficult to see in Sigan's emailed image) does actually look like Merlin. How amazing. Please do give me a report on the condition of the backing. My love to you and Merlin, hope you're having a lovely time in London. Gwen.
Even more brief was a note from Will.
Arthur, Merlin: Excellent tapestry. Not my area of expertise, but I can see it's in fine condition. Check Sigan's records for insect damage. Looked at photo with Gaius' big magnifying glass, and see no problematic areas. Will.
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Tea at the Sigan residence would probably be informal, Merlin decided, staring at the small selection of clothing he had brought from New York. He had hung several garments in the wardrobe, to get the wrinkles out. Now he was having difficulty determining which of these would be appropriate.
"Merlin," came Arthur's voice from outside the door. "I hope you're wearing something presentable."
"No," Merlin shouted. "I'm wearing sackcloth and ashes."
"We're leaving in half an hour, Merlin," Arthur said, pushing the door open a little, putting his head through the opening, and running his eyes over his glowering conservator. "For pity's sake, not that striped rugby shirt."
"I was just about to change it," said Merlin.
"Wear the nice bluish, greenish thing, the shirt you bought at Lord and Taylor."
"You mean the one you made me buy," Merlin mumbled, fishing in the wardrobe.
"And you can wear your new jacket, the one you just got."
"You mean the one you got for me," Merlin said in an almost accusatory voice.
"What gratitude," Arthur said, grinning. "You could at least say thank you."
"I believe I already thanked you," Merlin replied, eyes narrowed. "Without words. But if you really want the words, then thank you very much, Arthur, for an elegant and fashionable article of clothing that I will probably wear once a year."
"Hmmm," said Arthur, musingly. "I would have said, thank you from the bottom of my heart, Arthur, you are truly wonderful for attempting to make me look like a sophisticated and well-dressed member of the human race." He pulled the jacket from the wardrobe and held it out by the shoulders with both hands, dangling it in front of his reluctant conservator. Merlin eyed him with a dour expression and Arthur shook the jacket encouragingly.
"You look like a bullfighter," Merlin said with a grudging smile. "Waving his cape at a bull."
"You don't bear any resemblance to a bull," replied Arthur. "You look more like a gazelle or a fawn. Especially around the ears."
Merlin looked at him sideways as he tore off his rugby shirt.
"You can leave the jeans on," Arthur said consolingly. "Let's see how the jacket looks with that other shirt. Bloody hell! Where did I put my wallet? Not that it matters; I'm extremely short of cash."
"Don't look at me," Merlin retorted. "You could have saved a lot of money if you'd left this lovely jacket on the rack. I know I sound ungrateful, but if you'd listened to me-"
"You know me, Merlin," Arthur said smugly. "I never listen to you."
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"My God," Arthur exclaimed, carefully perusing his fully-dressed conservator. "I deserve a knighthood. Go and look at yourself." He spun Merlin around and pushed him in the general direction of the mirror.
Merlin surveyed his sleekly stylish image in the mirror without a word, eyes darkening, chewing on his lower lip.
"You see?" Arthur went on, ignoring the danger signs. He delivered his next words in a high, reedy treble. "Oh thank you, Arthur, for this miraculous transformation. I am forever in your de-" The remainder of his sentence was muffled as one of Elaine's fluffy pillows made contact with his face.
"Hey," he said reprovingly, catching the pillow before it could fall to the floor. "That was my nose." Merlin's lips were trembling with the faintest hint of amusement, but Arthur stepped close and caught them with his own, closing his teeth softly on that full lower lip and putting one arm around Merlin's waist. Then he put his free hand on Merlin's thin cheek, to hold him still, and tried to coax his obstinate tongue into his own mouth. They stumbled a little, and Merlin grazed his leg against a chair, whilst Arthur's elbow made painful contact with the edge of the wardrobe.
"Just for that," Arthur murmured, "I'm going to make you dress like this for a week, when we get back to New York. Shirts and ties and jackets. I'll hide your tee shirts and hoodies and rugby shirts where you'll never find them."
"Gaius will be shocked," said Merlin a moment later, disengaging his mouth. "If he sees me dressed like that."
"No, he'll be too busy," Arthur replied, nuzzling Merlin's ear. "He's planning to hang and flog the rest of my Conservation Department."
"Don't think I won't get even with you," Merlin said before barely brushing the tip of his tongue over the pink swell of Arthur's upper lip. "You'll see." He drew away carefully and looked at Arthur with eyes gone lighter in color, and bright with some secret mirth.
In spite of his ominous words, Merlin appeared to have put aside his ruffled feelings and actually looked happy as he adjusted the new jacket, located his glasses (which he tucked into the inside pocket), and headed downstairs. Arthur could hear him whistling as he went back to his own room to hunt for his wallet and keys. Having finally found them, he descended the stairs and headed into the parlour, only to find Merlin sitting on the sofa, grinning cheerfully whilst Elaine piled photograph albums of various sizes onto the coffee table in front of him.
Arthur stared at Merlin, appalled.
Elaine looked from one to the other. "I thought I might show Merlin some of your childhood photos, Arthur. It was my idea, really."
"Don't try and cover for him," Arthur said grimly.
"You saw mine," Merlin said, looking up.
"You have no idea how embarrassing these are."
"I'll bet mine are even more embarrassing. You saw me in my nappies, me with one foot in my mouth, and me with my head in the stocks. You saw me at six months, being bathed, running naked on a beach at age three. How can yours be any more hideous?"
"Fair enough," Arthur conceded, but he still looked horrified.
"You said I could look at them when we got to London," Merlin said serenely. "Remember? Thanks, Elaine, I can't wait to go through these. Though it'll probably have to wait until we get back. Oh, and I don't suppose you might know where Arthur's old red velvet jacket is? He's promised to show that to me as well."