Mixed Signals by Posh & Stoneygem

Part 8

When she drew near her office, she almost wished she had stayed locked up in her suite. She had known it would be hard, but she hadn't expected the pitiful glances to sting so much.

Rounding the corner to the hallway that led to her office, she stopped dead in her tracks. The voices were easily recognisable as those of Mrs. Kowt and Priscilla.

"Yes, in the chapel. The whole night. Though Martin said that he had seen him entering their suite, but he left again after a few minutes and then he went straight to the chapel."

"But what could he do in the chapel the whole night?"

Mrs. Kowt snorted. "Honestly, Priscilla, what does one do in a chapel?"

"Did he pray that her majesty would let him into their bedroom again? If I were her, I wouldn't."

"Priscilla! I think, there is a lot more to their problem than meets the eye. Have you noticed that he has lost weight and how pale he is?"

"So what? It's the least that can happen to him for doing that to her."

"Priscilla!" Mrs. Kowt exclaimed. "This is highly unfair. You don't know what happened. Nobody knows it. And we have no right… I mean, maybe he has a serious problem."

"Who has a serious problem?" A third voice joined in. Clarisse shrunk even more back against the wall at hearing Charlotte's voice.

"Well, her majesty and Sir Joseph of course. Well, actually Sir Joseph will have a serious problem when people get a hold of him after the news is out. But Mrs. Kowt here thinks there is more." The lady's maid said.

"And what would that be, Mrs. Kowt?" Charlotte asked with a clear tone of disapproval.

"I'm only saying that he didn't look well. So pale and withdrawn. And he has lost weight. Maybe, he is ill or something." The housekeeper's voice became thinner and thinner. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I just can't believe that he would throw their marriage away so callously. I mean, he practically worshipped the ground she walks on."

The listener in the shadows couldn't take anymore of this. Clarisse, blindly turned and ran away from the corner, the vase she knocked over in her haste not even registering in her mind.

Clarisse persuaded the driver to wait around the corner; he must have suspected something from the word go as she'd asked for an unmarked car and arrived wearing a long black overcoat and dark sunglasses. As she sat in the back of the car she found herself unbearably nervous, shaking almost violently and constantly fiddling with the leather gloves in her lap. In a matter of minutes the car reached her destination and she'd given instructions for where David should park the vehicle and wait.

Stepping out onto the frosty pavement it struck her that perhaps her shoes weren't the most sensible footwear considering the weather, a light covering of snow had fallen the night before and was now icing up quite nicely. She slid her gloves on, tightened her scarf against the wind and pushed on the flat door. Locked. The thought hadn't occurred to her that it could be locked, that she couldn't gain entrance. She tapped her foot impatiently and glanced at her watch, 10:40 a.m. Looking up at the apartment window the thought struck her that Joseph would already be there, perhaps they were already… oh god! Did she really think she could do this? Catch him out, catch him in the act? The thought disgusted her, making love to another woman, no, not love it couldn't possibly be, she couldn't accept that; lust, desire, foolish manly pride but not love.

She started as the door in front of her opened. Looking up she caught an old man's eye, he must have been 85 at least and struggling with the door. She reached forward and held it for him, he tipped his hat.

"Thank you dear lady, oh this weather hey, should be spring, should be spring."

"Careful on the ice." She whispered eyeing his walking stick.

"Aye, I'll be fine. Good day."

She watched him hobble away and realised she was still holding the door ajar; taking a deep breath she stepped inside.

There were plaques on the wall, mostly Doctors in the building. Ms. A. De Marcos, third floor. Removing her glasses she dropped them into her bag and steadily mounted the stairs. Pushing open the door she stepped inside and found herself in a waiting room, an empty waiting room. The desk obviously reserved for a secretary was even vacant; they'd quite plainly planned this well.

There was no turning back now; she might as well face the truth. Drawing on every last fragment of strength she crossed the room placing her hand on the gold doorknob and slowly, quietly, twisting it and opening the door.

Joseph was standing in the centre of the room, his arms tightly wound around the younger woman's back. Clarisse swallowed and opened her mouth to speak.

"You…"

"Clarisse, how?" He let go of the woman and turned to her, his face was red, almost flushed, yet his eyes shone.

"How could you?" She said not daring to look at the woman. "How?"

"Clarisse, this isn't what you think."

"Oh the oldest line…" She said the words quite calmly then the rage took over and she lost her grip on her sensibilities. "I asked you, I asked you plainly if you were sleeping with somebody else, you convinced me I was being melodramatic."

"That's because I'm not, I am not."

"You're here with her!" She pointed towards Anna for the first time acknowledging her presence.

"No darling listen…" he stepped towards her reaching for her arm.

"Don't you dare touch me. I can't believe you would do this to me… I hoped that it wasn't true, even following you here I hoped…"

"Following me? You've been spying on me?"

"You lied to me, after everything we've been through, you can stand and lie to me, do this, sneaking up here for cheap sordid sex with her!"

"You're wrong your majesty." The woman said, her accent was foreign, heavily Spanish; she can't have been away from home very long.

"Anna let me deal with this, Clarisse you have no right to speak to her in that way."

Joseph was right in front of her now, so close he could reach out and take her hand.

"I have every right, every right, she's nothing but a whore!"

"Clarisse!"

"And you're a liar, a fake… you who I trusted so… I…"

"Clarisse." He grabbed her arm but she pushed him off violently, swinging round and catching his arm with her handbag. He gripped her tighter and she slapped his face, hard, brutal.

Instinctively he slunk backwards, silently staring at her. Her hand stung despite the presence of her leather gloves, already there was a mark forming on his face. Shaking away the feeling of guilt she regained her voice.

"I could have coped Joseph, if you'd told me, admitted to it, I would have wept but I could have coped. If you'd left me my dignity. But no, not only do you rip my heart out but you do it in a way that I can't recover from. The country witnesses their Queen unexpectedly marry her security guard, questioning your motives, if it will last and a few months later you start an affair and I have to pick up the pieces. I am the one who's left broken, looking foolish."

"If you believe that then you are foolish. If you believe I would deliberately set out to break you then you are foolish."

"Oh go to hell!" She stormed out of the room, slamming the door after her.

Joseph turned to Anna staring at her blankly. "Well for god's sake go after her then."

Biting back his anger at her accusations he followed.

"Clarisse…" she was leaning on the desk in the other room, her breath coming in short sharp gasps, furious hot tears pouring over her face.

"Clarisse." He rested a hand gently on her shoulder.

"I told you not to touch me."

"We have to talk."

"I don't even want to be in the same room as you. I don't wish to talk to you, or be near you…" She moved to the door but he reached over her head and held it shut.

"Clarisse stop this, calm down and listen to me."

"Give me a reason." She didn't look at him; she held her breath feeling his body behind her. "Let me leave."

They both froze as voices passed on the stairwell; this wasn't the place for an argument, for such an outburst and outpouring of emotions.

"Neither of us want a scene here, let me accompany you back to the palace, we need to talk about this."

"I have nothing to say, make your own way back." She snapped at him, finally levering his arm from the door and leaving.

She replaced her glasses to cover her red puffy eyes and returned to the car, not sparing a second to turn and see if he were behind her. Somehow she managed to hold her nerve on the return drive to the palace, she even managed to stumble to her suite avoiding personnel. It wasn't until she passed through the doors to her room that she sank to the floor. She dragged herself to the couch and yanked the scarf from her neck. It wasn't the most dignified of poses, slumped on the couch with tears streaming down her face, still wearing her coat, the melting ice dripping from her shoes. There was a knock at the door and she daren't even turn to greet whoever it was.

Charlotte cautiously entered the room and stood behind the couch.

"You're majesty, I've arranged for lunch at 1:00, will that suffice?"

"No, cancel it." She whispered choking on the words. "Cancel everything for today."

"Ma'am?"

"Please Charlotte. I just need a moment to gather my thoughts, a moment."

"Of course your majesty."

She waited for the sound of the door to click before she allowed the strangled breath to escape, furiously wiping at her face, angry at herself for crying, angry at herself for reacting so weakly.

She wasn't aware of him standing behind her, having silently entered the room as Charlotte left.

"Clarisse?" He said gently.

Startled she jumped up, eyes blazing. "How dare you face me? I want you to leave."

"This is my home, our home."

"Not anymore, in fact, you can move out now."

She marched through the lounge into her private closet, opening the drawers designated for Joseph's clothes. She was yelling as she pulled out shirts and threw them at him.

"Take your things and find somewhere else to sleep, I'm sure she'll accommodate you."

He caught a few garments as they flew at his face. "This is ridiculous, Clarisse, you're being irrational."

"Irrational?"

"Yes irrational!"

It was the first time she noticed how angry Joseph actually was.

"You've jumped to this conclusion, you won't listen to me, suddenly I'm some untrustworthy, cold heartless bastard of a man."

"Yes you are. Not suddenly, this has been going on far too long, I won't take it anymore. I won't allow you to treat me this way, I had almost forty years of a loveless marriage not this time Joseph."

"How many times do I have to say this, I love you for gods sake."

"Yet you feel free to screw somebody else."

"I'm not screwing anyone."

"Certainly not me, least of all me, you haven't touched me in months, you won't come near me."

"There are reasons…"

"To hell with your reasons."

He dropped the clothes to the floor and pursued as she ran through to their bedroom.

"Will you stop and listen to me."

She was pulling the drawers of the bedside cabinet open, "Here take this too."

She swung round throwing a pyjama top at him, the one that was her favourite of his to wear, the one she'd stolen from him during their first week of married life.

"Oh Clarisse will you bloody well calm down, stop this!"

"This is me being irrational…" She claimed as she stormed past him. "This is me showing some emotion, isn't that what you want. For me to feel something, anything… whether it be love or hate." She shouted at him and he remained in the bedroom a second taking in the sight of their possessions strewn across the room.

Finally he followed her into the lounge again, she stood by the fire.

"Well congratulations you can tell her that the Queen felt something, rather a lot actually, and well done not only did you manage to crawl into her bed but you also got her to wed you – think of the retirement funds!" She lifted the photograph from the mantelpiece and held it up.

"Clarisse no… not that one. There's only one."

"What does it matter now."

"You know it matters, you don't mean these things, you're angry, upset."

"Damn right I'm angry." She sniffled fighting to hold on to her anger. "You've broken my heart Joseph."

"Oh my love stop please, I wouldn't, I couldn't…"

She was crying unabashedly, deep heavy sobs that tore from her throat leaving her breathless and drained. He moved in front of her, took hold of her wrists and wrestled the picture from her hands safely replacing it above the fire.

"Come to me, let me hold you." He said trying to wrap his arms around her.

"No, no… I don't want you, I can't…my husband is having an affair, what do I do about that hmm? What do I do when I have no best friend to talk to about it, who do I turn to, because you're my best friend. I'm so stupid, I'm so damned stupid because you're the closest friend I ever had and you're breaking my heart and I have nowhere to turn."

"You turn to me, I would never handle your heart so cruelly. I treasure it above all things."

He gripped her shoulders bringing her body into close contact with his, but she resisted attempting to pull away. His hands slid down to her elbows encouraging her head to his chest but still she fought back, she was no longer shouting, her voice wouldn't function above the sobs. It struck Joseph that she was almost hysterical; he'd only once seen her react like this and he never thought he'd witness it again. Her hands formed fists and she attacked his chest fighting him off.

"Sshh, please Clarisse, calm down… come to me." He caught her wrists preventing her from hurting either him or herself. "Let me help."

"I can't, I hate you – I hate you, I hate you…"

He pulled her to him, her head falling against his chest, her body convulsing against his, fighting against her need to cling to him for comfort yet needing to force him from her.

In time she relaxed, seemed to shrink against him and dissolve. Her tears fell for well over an hour, until finally with an aching heavy head she slipped into unconsciousness.

Joseph carried her to the bedroom and laid her down, removing her shoes and clothes and allowing her to sleep. He tidied away the items of clothing she had thrown about the room, replaced his shirts in the closet and, checking she still slept, took a shower. It was only then that he allowed his own tears to fall, an odd mix of guilt for hurting her so very much, pain at the words she had spoken to him, at the fact she didn't really trust him – perhaps she never had. But beneath that there was relief, finally all the worry was over, he was in the clear.

The images whirling around in her head were absolutely frightening. All those grotesque faces and voices, laughing at her, pointing at her, gloating at her. And he wasn't there. She had felt herself twisting and turning, trying to see him among the crowd that was closing in on her. The noise had become louder and more and more shrill. It scared her and she was thrashing around, muttering unintelligible things in between desperate cries for him.

"Joseph! Joseph, where are you? Help me, please."

Warm and strong hands pulled her closer to a human source of warmth, pulling her into arms that provided security. Warm and strong hands drew gentle circles on her back soothing and assuring. And finally, the grotesque images disappeared from her mind and she relaxed into a deep and restful sleep.