So distracted was Clarisse, as she stormed through the corridors in pursuit of Joseph, that she hardly had time to register Mia before she collided with her. As Charlotte caught up with the Queen, she was just in time to witness her helping Mia to her feet,
"Ah, your Majesty…thank goodness…the Archbishop, on the main telephone in your office, he claims it is rather urgent."
For a moment Clarisse visibly hesitated. Her hands were still a little shaky from Joseph's sudden disappearance, her mouth desperately dry. But running into Mia had jolted her out of her panic. She wondered how best to proceed. Not forty feet away, through those elaborate doors to the garden, she was sure Joseph was angry with her, threatening to leave her forever. In her study was the head of the Church, a man whose patience was distinctly lacking.
"Uh…Charlotte, I…is it really urgent? I mean, do you think I might call back in about an hour?"
Immediately understanding what she was asking, Charlotte smiled weakly, and trying desperately to avoid Mia's confused expression, followed Clarisse's gaze out into the garden,
"I think Joseph has more patience than the Archbishop, your Majesty"
Clarisse attempted a smile and nodded briskly, straightening her jacket distractedly,
"Yes, Charlotte, you are right…but…"
Again she hesitated, not wanting to ask, not wanting to say more than she absolutely must. Charlotte understood implicitly,
"But I will check on him, of course."
OoOoOoOoO
As Clarisse walked off purposefully in the direction of her office, Charlotte decided that it was time for Mia to be enlightened into the inner workings of the palace,
"Princess Mia…", Mia frowned and Charlotte smiled awkwardly, "Mia, sorry…um, do you have a minute or two, I think there are some things you need to be made aware of…that you might be able to help me with?"
More than a little confused, Mia nodded her ascent, and soon she and Charlotte were safely ensconced in the library, gossiping like schoolgirls,
"…and so you're telling me that they've been in love for years?"
Charlotte smiled and nodded, "At least as long as I've been here, and, I have a shrewd suspicion, from what Joe told me, for a long time before that."
"And so why don't they just come clean?"
Mia shifted a little in her seat and wrinkled her brow, clearly totally nonplussed by her grandmother's actions,
"I'm not sure…maybe they're too used to the secrecy? Perhaps they're worried about the possible questions that might be asked?"
Mia sighed, unconvinced, and gazed out of the window,
"I think they just need a push."
Charlotte smiled, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward conspiratorially,
"That's just what I hoped you might say…"
OoOoOoOoO
In the garden, Joseph was distraught. Of course, to the untrained eye, he would've appeared to be as cool as ever, his shades glinting in the evening light as he watched the sunset. Beneath, however, his eyes were red and swollen, tired from more tears than he was prepared to count. Tears of shame, tears of anger but, most of all, tears of regret.
Each time he had fallen so hard for her, so entirely out of control…this last time had been the worst. He had so thought that it might work this time, now that they had enough space to relax a little. But once again he had failed and he was, once again, wondering if he would ever be able to forget her laugh, the feel of his fingers in her hair…
The old arguments had resurfaced and this was a discussion he had had with himself many times over the years. He had become an expert on this particular subject. Each time he had convinced himself that all they needed was time, that he couldn't exist without her. That there was no point in running when he couldn't escape.
But this time she had said it. She had asked him to leave. No, she had ordered that he be told that he must leave. She hadn't even deigned to ask him herself. And of course he must leave. That much he had promised her.
But how to make it through the next few days? He would not be able to leave until the wedding was over and, he feared, the coronation ceremony complete. He would have to see her at every turn, watch her every move. It would be pure, exquisite agony, and she knew it.
Still, in spite of it all, he was filled with the sense that there was something missing, that something didn't quite fit. There were words that still needed to be spoken, things that, rightly or wrongly, still needed to be said. He could not leave without talking to her. Once last time.
But it could not be tonight, no, tonight she would be too preoccupied. And tomorrow she would be too tired. The morning after, then…they would speak. He would go to her chamber first thing in the morning, long before her maids arrived, and talk to her there. It would be quiet, and he would be able to ask her directly, to hear it from her lips. He needed to hear her asking for him to leave. And then he would. Somehow.
OoOoOoOoO
As Clarisse sat in the large easy chair by the fire in her suite, the book she was reading long discarded on her lap, she realised that tears were streaming down her face. For a long time she had been staring blankly into the fire, oblivious to everything else around her, wondering how it all might end. It was a thought that had crept upon her over the past few days, a feeling of finality that she had not previously experienced. Initially she had put it down to the wedding and, in good time, the coronation. She would be passing her crown on, completing the plan she had been working on so carefully for the past two years. The need for an ending. But now it didn't feel like that. No, the succession was not that which was foremost in her mind. All she could think of was Joseph.
She had spoken to Charlotte that evening, just before dinner, and she had been reassured to hear that Joseph had promised not to leave before the end of the week. That gave her four days. Apparently he had calmed down, and was back working on the security plans for the wedding. She didn't expect him to come to her chambers that night, indeed, why would he? He thought that she had dismissed him.
Charlotte had explained everything to her, the overheard conversations, the misconceptions, the reason for his proposal, the reason for his reaction… She had sat in stunned silence as the younger woman had spelt it all out, had observed sadly,
"He talks to you, Charlotte…"
Charlotte smiled, and, a little tentatively, reached out and took Clarisse's hand,
"Yes, but it's you that he really wants to talk to."
Staring into the flames, those words rang in Clarisse's ears. How often had she actually really listened to him? Paid him the attention that he so clearly paid to her? Suddenly she felt a rush of guilt and blinked. This was ridiculous…she had the love of her life sitting somewhere in this palace and here she was pondering what to do next.
Getting up quickly, forgetting that she was dressed simply in her pyjamas and gown, Clarisse opened the door to her suite and began to walk in the direction of his room. That night she didn't care if the security guard posted outside her room noticed.
OoOoOoOoO
Opening the door quietly and stepping inside, she was disappointed to find the room in gloomy darkness. The fire was burning low in the grate and all the main lights were out. Wandering through to his bedroom she was a little concerned to see the bed hadn't been slept in. She was about to leave when she heard a slight movement from the large chair facing away from her. He was asleep.
Careful not to wake him, she circled the chair, and knelt down in front of him. Sitting back on her heels she felt her heart wrench as she made out the obvious redness of his eyes. His hands were folded in his lap, and his head was resting against the back of the chair, tilted slightly to the left. He shivered a little in his sleep and Clarisse softly moved back to his bed and pulled off the blanket, returning to wrap it carefully around him as he slept on oblivious. Almost oblivious.
Shifting slightly he snuggled into the warmth of the brushed wool, and she couldn't help but smile. Her own eyes filling with tears once more, she knew she couldn't stay much longer. This was not the time, he was not in any state to hear her out. And she hadn't worked out exactly the things she must say, that she needed him to hear. Tomorrow, after the wedding, or maybe the morning after. She would go and find him then and explain everything, everything that had happened, everything that might, no, would happen, one day.
Dropping a tender kiss to his forehead, her heart almost broke as he softly moaned her name. She kissed him again, lost for a second in the feeling…but still he slept. As much as she craved his embrace, she had to be strong now, that much was clear to her. This was not how it should be. Making sure that he was comfortable, she stepped back and, promising herself that it would not end like this, she returned to her room.