They had stood there for some time, in a comfortable silence, lost in their thoughts, when Joseph noticed that a silvery teardrop was working slowly down Clarisse's cheek. She was turned away from him now, looking out over the garden, and the moonlight caught the only sign that betrayed her otherwise controlled persona.
"Clarisse?" her name caught in his throat, the huskiness of his voice giving away his concern. Her hands were distractedly running up and down the balustrade, desperately trying to retain her composure. She struggled to keep her voice steady.
"It's alright Joseph. Thank you. I am alright… I just need a moment."
He paused, considering for a moment, and then, with a soft sigh turned to leave. He had moved little more than two paces towards the room when he felt a delicate hand on his left upper arm.
"Please don't leave me here…" Her voice was small, and yet resolute. Even reduced to this she possessed the bearing of a queen. He turned to face her, to look in her eyes once more. And for a moment he saw panic, realisation at what she has asked of him:
"I….I'm sorry, Joseph. I have no right to ask. I don't know what…what's come over me this evening. First the jewels, then the dancing, and now this. I'm sorry, I…" she broke off, realising that she was babbling. She stepped away from him, releasing his arm.
"So you liked them then?" There was a playful tone in his voice, but his thoughts were serious. Maybe it was time.
"I don't understand? Did I like what?"
"The necklace and the earrings. I thought, I mean…I hoped that you would. " Now it was his turn to feel cornered. He knew that he had overstepped the mark, the line that they had taken so much care to construct. But it had been worth the risk. As she had stepped down the stairs to dinner she had looked radiant, happy even, much better than he had observed of late.
"It was you?" She didn't know what to think, let alone what to say. Fingering the necklace self-consciously, she struggled to process his meaning. It was funny, now it all seemed so obvious. Of course it hadn't been Rupert. But that it had been Joseph? Had she really not considered that? Of course she had, but she had not allowed herself to believe it. And yet now, standing before him, wearing his necklace, looking into his eyes she realised the truth she had hidden from for so long. He loved her.
"I…I'm sorry Joseph…I, um" she stumbled over her words, desperately trying to calm her racing heart and think of something rational, something sensible to say.
Joseph noticed her confusion, her difficulty at negotiating a situation that couldn't be played by the book. This time it was he who drew closer to her.
"First of all, please stop apologising." His tone was calm and measured, but not severe. "You have nothing to apologise for, least of all to me." He slowly reached down and took her hand in his. "And as for having no right, again, I'm afraid orders, protocol and rights do not come into this." He stroked her fingers, trying to soothe away in this tiny gesture the turmoil she was clearly experiencing. "If we are to talk of rights, I am afraid, my dear, that it is I who have no right. No right at all to stand here alone with you, no right to look at you like this, and no right whatsoever to even think you will listen to me."
He swallowed, she could ask him to leave. She could sidestep this situation once again, as she did whenever their hands accidentally touched, when she caught him watching her, when she…the list was endless. There had always been 'more'. But now it was time to tell her.
"But I have to say this now, God help me I never intended to, but I can't see you like this, so beaten, so bruised, without trying to help. You're unhappy Clarisse, and it's tearing me apart to see you like this."
Clarisse dipped her head, as more tears threatened to fall. Seeing this, he gently took her chin in his free hand and tilted her face up to his. "It's okay to cry, you know. You need somewhere safe, where you can let it all out. You might be able to carry a country's official engagements on your shoulders, but you cannot carry this unhappiness without breaking down occasionally." She nodded at this, understanding his words, attempting a small smile. At this his own face softened, warmed, as always, by her. He released her face and his own dropped, "I know that I have no right, Clarisse…"
She silenced him by placing her thumb on his lips, slowly tracing the contours, her palm cupping his chin.
"I don't think that it is necessary to speak of rights when I am already yours, Joseph, do you?"
Closing the box with a click Clarisse smiled to herself. It had been so very difficult that evening, and yet so entirely simple. Just as she had realised the immensity of the truth about her feelings for Joseph, she had realised how it might just work. There had been tears in her eyes as she had spoken those words. He had taken both of her hands in his, brought them to his lips and kissed them softly. "No more talk of possessions" he whispered, wrapping his arms around her.
They had stood there for many minutes, just holding each other. He gently stroked her back, soothing her, her face pressed into him. There had been no need for words.
After what seemed like nothing more than a second, the music in the ballroom stopped. She tensed in his arms. Understanding, he dropped a chaste kiss to her forehead, held her cheeks in his warm palms and whispered, "You should go"
She nodded, and took a deep breath. His hands slid down her shoulders to her own, stroking her fingers, entwining them with his.
"When can I see you, Joseph?" she too was whispering now,
Looking deep into her blue eyes, "You can always see me – I'm always here Clarisse."
She smiled, but continued, "You know that's not what I meant…"
He sighed, "I know…but I will see you. I promise. You will never get rid of me, my dear" She shook her head ruefully, and in a gently teasing voice whispered in his ear, "And I wouldn't have it any other way…"
They had pulled apart then. She had left first, moving through the study back out into the ballroom, gaining confidence with each step. He had broken down all her walls, and yet she was stronger than ever. He had followed, disappearing down a corridor, vanishing into the labyrinth of the palace. That night she had found a single red rose on her pillow. This time there had been no doubt as to who had placed it there.
As she changed into a slip, Clarisse thought back to how she had felt all those years ago. She had had no idea of the pain she would suffer, the tragic heartache of Philippe, and then the trials of ruling alone. A soft (and completely unnecessary!) knock on the door brought her back to the present. Reflected in her mirror, she watched him enter the room, placing two mugs of cocoa on the table. He hadn't seen her yet. She smiled as he placed a white rose on her pillow, smoothing down the sheet as he did. He wandered into her dressing room, and caught her watching him. As he snaked his strong arms around her waist, and kissed her neck, she couldn't take her eyes from the mirror. She had never been truly alone. There had always been him. She turned into his arms, looking into his dark eyes, which hadn't changed a bit since the first time, and, smiling, kissed him on the lips. "What took you so long, mister butler…?"