The next two weeks passed with surprising speed. As Clarisse tried to mould the young princess into a queen, Joseph found himself extremely busy with security arrangement for the wedding. To be entirely honest, he still found it difficult to accept Mia's decision and, most especially, her choice of husband, but he said nothing. As difficult as it was to accept, he did understand. Years of courting duty made that easy.
Clarisse seemed to be tense, to his mind, and he was beginning to feel more than a little concerned. She had gone into preparation-overdrive the moment the wedding had been fixed and was following each stage keenly. She rose early and came to bed late, her mind clearly overactive. Her body, though, was rapidly losing the battle to keep up. As she napped on the sofa in her sitting room, he was leafing distractedly through a tourist guide to Florence, idly dreaming of the warm stone palazzi and drinking Chianti in the Piazza della Repubblica.
It was late, well after midnight, and he was beginning to grow sleepy, but he didn't want to leave her like that. She couldn't be comfortable, hunched up like that, and she would seriously regret it in the morning. They had continued to spend their nights together, he still woke up with her in his arms, but they hadn't made love since that first night back from San Francisco. He tried not to mind, she was preoccupied, he knew that…it didn't mean anything. It…hmmm…never mind. As he set the book down gently, she woke up with a start. He sighed to himself, she was making a habit of that, and it made him jump every single time.
"Joseph?"
It was less of a question than a slight registering of surprise. He decided to try the straight approach,
"Bed-time?"
She half-smiled, and he raised an eyebrow, already guessing where this one was going,
"I just have a few more things to do….you go to bed, I'll…I'll be done in an hour or so."
"Clarisse…"
His words were gentle, but they held little room for objection. He knew better than to try and persuade her of her own stubbornness, and so tried a softer approach. She met his eyes, almost defiantly, though severely disadvantaged by her tiredness, and attempted a glare.
He smiled, and it was her undoing. Seeing the resolve crumble, he stood and offered her a hand. Taking it, he smoothly pulled her up and then in to rest against his chest. She shivered a little, suddenly realising how cold she had been, and snuggled in closer.
"Are you alright, my darling?"
He felt her nod against his chest, and he eased her back to look into her eyes. Immediately he could see that she was holding back and the faintest whisper of a frown crossed his brow. Cupping her cheek in his hand he tried to make light of it,
"Hmm…I know when you're lying Clarisse…"
"You do?"
"Hmmm."
He idly stroked her lips with his thumb, all the while gazing into her eyes. She raised an eyebrow,
"Your lips always curl up a little at the edges…"
"Nonsense"
He smiled, and kissed her delicately, as if to prove the point.
"You do."
She tried to pull back, but he caught her up in his arms and twisted her round a little,
"Now…you're going to bed."
There were no more protests.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOo
As she lay sleeping, curled against his arm, he made his mind up. Tomorrow. He would ask her tomorrow. She smiled in her sleep and he gently stroked a hand through her hair. He felt better now that he had decided, but he could feel the nerves beginning to knot his stomach already. Carefully, he brushed a piece of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She shifted a little, and he whispered, almost imperceptibly against her cheek,
"Oh Clarisse…tomorrow you will hear me say it properly…" His voice lowered, the emotion catching in his throat. He pressed his lips chastely to her brow,
"The question though, my darling, is whether you will listen…"
OoOoOoOoOoOoOo
The following day was a beautiful one. As the sun shone brightly and the smell of the freshly mown lawns spilled into her study, Clarisse decided to give in to the temptation to take a walk. Siding open the terrace door, she blinked a little as the darkness of her office was contrasted with the afternoon sun. As she stepped out towards the stone balustrade, to look out over the gardens properly, she found herself taking a deep, relaxing breath. She was tired, she couldn't ignore it any more…she had hoped that last night's deep sleep would have restored her somewhat, but the day's events had gone on to drain her once again. It was just after four now, and already she felt as if she might sleep for a week. As she sighed again, he stepped out of the shadows and, moving slowly towards her, laid a firm hand on her shoulder. She started a little, but instantly calmed, knowing it could be no other. She smiled to herself,
"Out here?"
He couldn't help but smile back at her expression,
"Always, my love, always"
She turned to face him, and they shared a conspiratorial grin. He removed his hand discreetly, instead raising an eyebrow, and nodding in the direction of the steps down to the garden,
"A walk?"
She nodded her approval and he gestured for her to lead the way.
As the wandered through the walled gardens and down through the beautifully crafted arches of magnolia, he let her babble. They spoke about Nicholas, the new addition to the palace, and Lionel, the latest disaster in royal security. For once, Clarisse began to feel her mind clearing, the overwhelming necessity of the wedding beginning to weigh less, beginning to feel more bearable. She felt her shoulders begin to relax a little, and, running a hand carefully through her hair, she was sure that her headache was beginning to ease.
As they continued their amble across the stoned pathways, she snuck a glance at him, dressed in his Armani suit, his shades tucked neatly in the breast pocket, his face animated by his account of Lionel's latest escapade. He looked wonderful. So relaxed and in control, calm and yet exuberant. For a moment she felt immensely guilty for all the pain she had caused, all the restrictions she had placed on him. For a second she felt sick to the core, and gazed off distractedly, faltering a little in her step. But it passed in a second and, as she blinked back the sudden emotion, she smiled once again.
As they reached the gazebo, she realised that they were now alone. His hand came to rest on the small of her back and, as if by instinct, she curled into his chest. But he stopped her and, gently easing her back, and guiding her to sit down alongside him on the bench, he began to speak in earnest.
As many times as she would rerun the conversation over the next weeks, she could hardly remember his words. He had spoken of friendship and trust…the duty she owed to herself. He had taken her hand in his and cryptically asked her to marry him. Immediately her heart had leapt and she had desperately fought back the lump in her throat and the tears of joy that threatened to fall…but the pressure in her head had flashed back in an instant. As she had looked into his eyes, with an unspoken promise of things to come, she had told him to wait. And she had watched as his eyes fell, as he recomposed himself and kissed her hand.
Afterwards she had locked herself discreetly in her bathroom. For once, she had managed to slip in without being seen, not even by Charlotte. As she sat on the closed toilet seat, the tears began to fall. She realised now that she would lose him, that this was the end. It would have to be the end. She could not marry Joseph.
As her hands lay clasped in her lap she realised that her fingers were shaking. Taking off the wedding band which she still wore on her left hand, she set it down on the marble sink. The skin beneath was pale and betrayed her, showing unmistakably the fragility beneath. She wondered if perhaps he would understand, whether he might see the impossibility of his request. But would he stay if he did?
OoOoOoOoOoOo
As she looked at the clock again, she noted that it was indeed nearly eleven, and he still hadn't come. Her eyes fell to the phone and she wondered if she might call him. Glancing back at the clock, she decided to wait. Moving into her bedroom, she quickly changed and curled up on the couch by the fire. By twelve, she was too sleepy to concentrate on her book any longer. With a sad sigh, she climbed into the suddenly enormous bed. Immediately, she turned onto her side and gazed at 'his' pillow. Again, the tears threatened to fall, and she ran a hand roughly through her hair. As her eyes flicked open again, they fell on the bedside table…and the envelope…and the rose. Instantly, her throat tightened, and the tears snaked down her cheeks as she smiled involuntarily. Reaching out, she delicately picked the paper up and, unfolding it, began to read,
"My darling,
I'm sorry that I was not with you tonight – but I wanted to give you some space. I love you so much, but I'm afraid of pulling you too close, too soon. I hope my suggestion did not upset you too much today. I promise I will wait for you, my darling, just as long as it takes.
Joseph"
Her hand was on the receiver before her mind really registered what she was doing. It only rang once before he picked up,
"Yes?"
Instantly, she felt better, and smiled weakly, her free hand brushing away the remainder of the tears,
"Joseph…"
She paused, unsure how to continue, and she could almost hear him smile at the other end,
"Cocoa, your majesty?"
She smiled, and shook her head,
"No, Joseph…just you."