Chapter 11
The Great Fire. That was what the people had started calling the inferno that had swallowed over half of London. No one could make any sense of the tragedy, nor could they understand the extent of the damage.
The fire had burned for five whole days and had robbed the Londoners of 436 acres of land, within which thirteen-thousand houses and eighty-seven churches had once stood. The city was smouldering still – smoke reigned the empty streets, rivalled only by the echoing cries of the poor souls that had been victimised by the unyielding flames. Many roamed the streets with a vacant look on their faces, scouting around for food or discarded garments they could use to fight off the cold.
It was only natural for deep-rooted despair to follow frenzied panic, but at the end of the day, sorrowful people were easier to control than terrified ones. Initially, thousands upon thousands of people had poured out of the city, carrying with them the few possessions they'd been able to gather before escaping the roaring flames. This had been encouraged by the king; he'd wanted everybody out, and had ordered for the houses in the path of fire to be pulled down to create fire-breaks. He'd also joined the newly created Fire Brigade and he'd spent endless hours passing buckets of water in an attempt to quell the flames.
Joseph had, with his own two eyes, seen the moment when St Paul's Cathedral had collapsed in on itself and when its leaded roof melted and poured down the street like a deadly, sizzling river.
Eventually, the inferno had been brought under control, leaving behind a desolate city. The historic centre had been burnt to a crisp, making every Londoner fear that not only had the fire taken away their present, but it had also taken away their past. There was a sense of being lost. There was no clear North to go to and, for now, the victims could only huddle together and make do in the refugee camps that had been set up on the outskirts of the city.
Still, King Joseph was rising to the occasion (to some extent, at least). He'd ordered for the city's streets to be cleared as soon as it was possible, and he'd encouraged the displaced citizens to resettle elsewhere. He'd issued a proclamation that forced every city to take in those who had been affected by the fire, no questions asked. He'd also set up a special Fire Court and had tasked Prince Niles to oversee the future rebuilding schemes.
So, for the past two weeks, that's exactly what Prince Niles had been doing – spending his every waking hour going over how they'd rebuild their lost city. It had quickly dawned on them all that it would take well over a decade to rebuild everything, but it was a job that would have to be done, one way or another. The prince had already given an incredibly important first step by establishing new regulations on housebuilding to prevent such a disaster happening again, and he and the other members of the Fire Court were working tirelessly to come up with a solution to the problem.
Naturally, Niles hadn't been allowed back to Whitehall yet (which was, thankfully, untouched), so he'd been holding his meetings in his lodge.
He'd barely stopped to rest since the fire – he simply wouldn't allow himself to lollygag or laze about. He was determined to rise up to the occasion. Still, he'd never been more exhausted in his life, nor more determined to wrestle the ache it caused into submission. There were people out there who needed him more than he needed to rest.
Not that Lady Babcock had agreed with him. She'd taken every turn that she could to get him to eat and sleep, from slipping plates of food that she'd made herself under his nose at times she knew had previously been for meals in his mind, causing his stomach to growl, to even blowing out the candles in his study while he was still in there, reading through papers.
When she wasn't forcing him to eat, or insisting that it was night-time outside and nighttime was for sleeping, she'd be sat by him. She'd ask him about what he was doing (she'd even come up with some really good ideas, which he'd gladly accepted) or remind him about the need to rest his mind by insisting they took short walks in the fresh air. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly exhausted, she'd read to him from the books she'd borrowed from his extensive library or insist they played a game, like chess or cribbage.
If it hadn't been for the work distracting him, he was sure that he would have found himself close to paradise, just in listening to her read or sharing fun-filled game nights! He certainly felt as though he could do with paradise, once this was all over and he didn't have the notes of the last meeting he'd been in (which had lasted all day) spread out over his desk.
But only once this was over. He had too much to do before he could enjoy himself on any level – the fire had cost so many people greatly, he couldn't afford to sit back and relax while they suffered with what little they and their families had left...
He was still at his desk, hunched over in a position most might've sworn he'd held for days, when a soft, familiar knock at the door caught his attention.
"Your Royal Highness? Dinner is ready," Lady Babcock told him, voice as gentle as her footsteps as they came in.
It made his chest tight, thinking about how kind she was being and how she didn't have to do any of this. She could've been enjoying her stay out in the countryside, but instead she was spending her time with him, in between and during his hours spent working. She deserved better than that. And he couldn't give it – not when he had to finish what he was doing.
Those pieces of paper were the only reason he didn't look round as he answered.
"Thank you, Lady Babcock. Is it on a tray? I can eat it in here..."
There were another few steps behind him, louder and closer.
"No, it's on the table," she told him. "You've been working hard, sir. You deserve to rest – you need to rest...! You cannot expect to help London fully if you do not help yourself fully too..."
Niles felt his chest tighten even more. He couldn't afford to put the papers down, but his mind was grappling uncomfortably with the idea that she did have a point. What if he read something wrong because his eyes had been staring too long? What if a lack of food or sleep made him exhausted and he missed something important?
But the sooner he got through the paper, the sooner it was done. The sooner he was helping people who needed him. And he wasn't very tired just then – he could stand to wait...
"I will eat when this is done," he eventually said back politely, the guilty part of him winning out. "Please, Lady Babcock, do not trouble yourself on my account."
But C.C. wasn't about to give in so easily. She'd seen him work too long and too hard for that – he needed a break, and that involved looking at something other than those papers for a while! He was noble, kind, and he was doing his best for his people. But she had to convince him to do what was best for himself as well.
And she thought she knew a way.
"Alright," she said, taking her usual seat by him. "Then I won't eat until you're done, either."
Niles blinked up at her from his papers. Properly looking, this time.
"What...?" he asked, feeling a little bit concerned as his voice raised. "But my lady, why? It will go cold, and you'll go hungry!"
"So will your food, and so will you," she replied, calm and collected. "I would personally rather eat cold food with company than a warm meal without. And I still believe that you need to see something other than these four walls..."
The tightness in his chest was almost crushing at this point.
Her persistence was frustrating, in one sense.
But in another, he honestly believed she was too good for him. She would delay her own dinner to sit and eat with him, even if the food had long gone cold, for crying out loud!
He admired – liked – her stubbornness.
But he couldn't really do that to her, could he? It wouldn't be fair. And that...well, that combined with the point about him needing to rest...He caved in.
"Alright! I will put these papers down and we shall eat."
He offered her his hand as he spoke, which she happily took. She was capable of getting up on her own, but she knew helping her up was a gentlemanly gesture and it would be in poor taste to reject it.
Not that she'd admit it to anyone (not even herself), but she also liked the feeling of his hand in hers. It was warm and strong; the hand of a man she felt at home with. But again, she was always quick to banish those thoughts the second they surfaced in her mind – she had to remember her place. She was a servant and he was her prince and future king. She couldn't and wouldn't entertain silly dreams.
After all, what good had daydreaming ever done to her?
She was keeping him company, that's all. She was a nice distraction for a powerful prince, and would continue to be so until he'd decided otherwise. It wasn't much in terms of having a purpose in life, but she was happy as it was. She'd grown to treasure his company, and in these last few weeks spent together her fondness for him had only grown. He was a good man, regardless of his past mistakes. He wanted to do right by his people, which was a lot more that his father had ever done.
Still, he had the annoying habit of overworking himself to the point of exhaustion, and she'd vowed to herself that she'd take care of him for all the times he couldn't do it himself.
Hence the feast that awaited in the dining room.
She got rid of the thought that she wanted the walk there to take time. She knew that wanting something wouldn't make it happen. Instead, she focused her energy on hoping that he would like the food he saw.
And it was a magnificent spread, indeed. From the roasted leeks and carrots and potatoes with butter piled up on plates and in bowls, crisp and golden, to the hefty joints of meat that crowned the table, with everything edible in between – freshly baked bread, a thick-crusted pie, delicious red-and-green apples, burgundy cherries, cakes and bottles of wine and so many blocks of cheese that they resembled their own little civilisation...
Niles was in awe. He'd been to so many balls and banquets and feasts in so many palaces and castles, but he had never seen such a sight in his own lodge! Why would he? It was his home, and the servants usually only made dinner for him!
They had...truly outdone themselves...
His jaw had dropped open without even realising, too - he only knew it wasn't where it should be when he tried to speak.
"I...I don't even know what to say!" he exclaimed. "This is magnificent!"
C.C. smiled at him, warmed inside by the compliment.
"Why thank you, sir. I was afraid the pie would burn when I was outside picking the apples, but I think it came out right! And I had to check twice with your servants to make sure the vintage was correct, to compliment the meat and the cheese...!"
Niles' eyes immediately went to the woman beside him.
"You did all of this yourself...?!"
"The cooks helped me, but for the most part yes," she replied.
Niles had to make an effort not to let his jaw drop – Lady Babcock had prepared all of this...just for the two of them...?! She was even more magnificent than he'd ever imagined! She was beautiful, intelligent, witty, and now he was just on the cusp of discovering another one of her talents!
He had never thought about the possibility of her cooking. Not seriously, anyway – noblewomen didn't, and she had never been a cook, even when she'd been a maid of a lower stature, before his mother had made her First Lady of the Bedchamber. He couldn't wait to try everything out…
Taking her hand again, they paraded a little around the table. She pointed out and told him about all the things she'd cooked and picked and prepared as they went, with the prince listening intently to even the smallest detail. He realised that he didn't want to miss hearing about a single drop of milk she'd spilled, or about the bag of flour that had nearly covered her in a cloud when she'd dropped it down too heavily on the kitchen table...
It was only after that that they sat down, with Niles pulling out a chair for C.C. (he insisted, even though most would practically demand that he sat down first). He poured wine for her as well, which earned him a confused look.
But it was an easily explained gesture.
"You've worked so hard on this, my lady – please, allow me to have the honour of doing my part. If you think that I have earned an evening of rest, then so have you for creating something so wonderful."
C.C. thought that might've been the nicest thing he could have said. When she had been nothing but a low-ranking maid, her superiors had given her nothing but grief over everything she'd done and even then, she wasn't allowed to do anything except work more (and harder and better).
Being told by the prince himself that she had worked hard and earned her rest...that was worth everything to her.
Nothing would ever come of it. Her fate of a working life alone was already sealed. But at least she had those words, to know she was appreciated. It made it worthwhile, knowing she was good at what she'd be doing for the rest of her days.
"Thank you, sir—"
"Please," interrupted Prince Niles, giving her a soft, encouraging smile that was making her go weak on the knees, "call me Niles. I believe we have reached the stage where we can be on a first-name basis, don't you agree?"
"If my Lord thinks so, then I shall call His Royal Highness by his name," replied the Lady. "And I am most thankful for your kindness."
The Prince smiled.
"Ditto."
He extended his arm, his own cup held firmly in his hand, and C.C. was soon doing the same.
"A toast," said the prince, "to a nice evening together."
They chinked glasses then, and soon the two of them were making their way through the different courses, chatting amicably about idle nonsenses and unimportant matters. They had a tacit agreement that work wouldn't be mentioned in the meantime, and both maid and prince were happy to honour said agreement. There was no sense in spoiling an otherwise wonderful evening.
"Lady Babcock," Niles said, having taken a bite out of her pie, "this is—"
"Please, Niles , call me C.C.."
Niles couldn't help the silly, self-satisfied, little smile spreading across his features.
"C.C...a marvellous name. I-if I might say so, if course."
He then immediately wanted to kick himself. "Marvellous"? He could've used any word in the bloody language and he'd chosen "marvellous"?! He could've used "beautiful", or "gorgeous", or...or "perfect"...
He shook his head to clear away that thought. He'd just had to think of another word! Anything except "marvellous"!
C.C. let a little bubble of a laugh make its way up her throat. She'd never considered her full name to be...well, anything more than a bit of a nuisance, at best. It was awkward and embarrassing, at worst.
Part of her wondered if Niles would think it was an awkward and embarrassing name as well...
But she was going to be brave and test those waters. She already suspected he'd never mention it again, if he made any show of not liking it...
"Well, you only think that because you haven't heard what those initials stand for..."
Niles looked at her curiously. He hadn't really thought about Lady Babcock's initials much, but now that he was, he couldn't imagine them as standing for something anything less than stunning.
There was only one way to find out if he was correct, of course.
He tilted his head a little bit to the side, emulating how a dog might look with interest at something covered in smells from diffident dogs and faraway places...
"What do your initials stand for, my lady?"
C.C. started to chuckle nervously. Well, here went nothing, she supposed. If he really did like her name, then she'd be surprised. If he was polite enough, they could probably go without ever mentioning it again. She'd be perfectly happy with that – that way, she might not have to think and cringe about it.
She was already on the verge of that happening. Her stomach was starting to tighten and she knew her other organs would follow, too. It always happened, whenever she thought about that godawful set of letters that strung together to form her given name.
Taking in a deep breath, she answered as she kept her smile firmly in place.
"Chastity-Claire. My initials stand for Chastity-Claire..."
Chastity-Claire.
Niles felt his heart flutter.
"Oh...that is a beautiful name...!"
It was out before he could stop it, and part of him was stubborn enough to declare that they shouldn't have to keep it and never announce anything which could be construed as intentions. The rest of him was back to kicking himself with how gushing and over-the-top in praise it was.
Many admirers would see fit to tell her what sort of a precious gem she was, nestled beneath that golden halo she called hair. The name "Chastity-Claire" only sealed it, in his case. So much so, that he almost burned at the idea of some other man getting to tell her what a beautiful thing it was that she possessed.
But telling her first was all he could ensure that he did.
"Oh, please, don't!" said C.C., grimacing, "I know it's a terrible name..."
Her answer surprised the prince, and made him fear that his compliment had been but a slight to the lady he desperately wanted to impress.
"I speak only the truth, my lady," insisted the prince. "I happen to think your name is lovely."
C.C. chuckled, leaning back in her chair and gently swaying her cup in her hand. So he really meant it? He really liked her name? She couldn't quite understand the prince, but she knew she was not lying.
Only God knew why, but it looked like the prince had the same rotten taste in names as her late mother. As preposterous as it might sound, C.C. had actually gotten the better deal where names were concerned. Her own sister, D.D., had been burdened with the cacophonous name of Dorothea Diana.
It was...nice, that he wasn't lying, though. She didn't think she'd met anybody who'd actually enjoyed her name before – at least, enjoyed it in the sense that they truly liked it, and didn't want to make fun of it.
And it could go with the relief that she felt at not being named "Dorothea Diana"...
At least her parents had been granted, gifted and offered the chance to be able to read; it meant that they could pick and choose actual names from the things that they read. They weren't stuck, like names of those unfortunates who simply picked words they liked from the Bible and named their children that, without understanding what the words said or meant.
And Niles obviously understood what he was getting into, and what he was saying when he said her name was lovely. Even if it really wasn't.
"Well, I suppose I have to thank you for that," she said, feeling a warmth coming to her cheeks. She had to duck away – she couldn't let him see that she was affected; it wasn't her place. "Not a lot of people truly enjoy my name. And you can safely bet that I count myself amongst them...!"
Very safely, she thought. But she wasn't about to stretch as far as explaining how much. She didn't want to completely ruin the prince's day, when the rest of it had already been long, tiring and full of work as it was!
If he dropped it, now knowing that she had told him she didn't like it, she might have felt a little bit more comfortable. But, as it was, Niles did not let go of the subject. He just couldn't do it – how could such a beautiful, accomplished, strong woman think so very little about herself? It just didn't make sense to him!
She had a name that was just as gorgeous as she was, in his mind. As bright, as pleasing to the eye and ear, and as wonderful. And if he had to prove it to her again, then he would. He couldn't stand to listen to her saying such things for much longer!
"I don't understand why!" he couldn't help chuckling back. "Your name is truly special – unique, and poetic! Your parents made a bold and brilliant selection, in choosing your name..."
"Bold, I agree with. Special...not so much," C.C. said, gulping down a bit of her wine. "I suppose my parents and I have different tastes where naming is concerned."
And that was an understatement, C.C. added to herself.
Still, there was no sense in making a world out of a minor issue. She'd learnt to live with her name and, at the end of the day, she had to treasure the one thing her parents had given her that would forever remain with her. It was what it was, and she had to bite the proverbial bullet and accept it.
She could, after all, be worse off. Namely, six feet under and rotting away.
"It's often the case when children resent the judgement of their parents," Niles replied, he himself following suit and gulping down some of his wine. "I know I did – still do, sometimes."
C.C. raised an eyebrow in a wordless question.
"I am ashamed to admit this, but I have disregarded my mother's advice many a time," admitted the prince, "Though I now see the error in my ways."
C.C. thought that she might have let her eyebrow return to its natural position, if it weren't for that statement. Instead, it stayed where it was of its own accord.
She didn't think she'd ever heard a man say that in her entire life. Noble men – and she supposed it could be doubly true for princes – rarely ever admitted when they were wrong. Especially if the person they had been up against was their own mother!
Underneath the layer of shock at such a thing even happening, it was refreshing. And...relieving. It said to her that Prince Niles really was as good a man as he seemed to be becoming. He could admit to his faults, instead of clinging to them and declaring everybody else wrong.
That would make him a good king. He'd seek advice from the people who knew, instead of ruling like a tyrant. She'd be proud to serve him, when that happened. And she'd be dutiful to the princess or duchess or non-disgraced lady that eventually became his bride. It wasn't as though it wouldn't hurt, but she'd keep that to herself.
The thought helped her eyebrow descend, anyway, as she let a small smile come to her face. It took a moment.
"I am glad," she told him. "And I'm sure Her Majesty will also be glad to know about your change of heart."
She thought he saw his chest inflate a little with pride, and couldn't help a wave of affection (as much as she tried, to keep her own heart from the hurt it would only end up feeling) at knowing he was so happy to know his mother would be pleased. The lords and nobles he'd tried to emulate would never have given a toss about what their mother thought.
They only cared about being like their fathers, and none of them were worth being like at all. Only her father had held that honour. It had died with him. Though it wasn't as though the notion had exactly been widespread and strong before the plague had come...
But it was no matter. She didn't want to spoil the evening by thinking too deeply on the past, when the present was a time she knew she could enjoy. Soon, she'd be back to serving Queen Marie, and she'd have to return to the mostly-humdrum and definitely-ordinary days of her life. Tonight was different – she was dining with a prince, and that was something she'd always be able to remember.
Once-in-a-lifetime occurrences always stuck with her.
"It was...a long time coming," Niles replied with a smile. "I never realised it could feel so good, but now I would never dream of anything else. And in my mind, that deserves a celebration..."
He reached over, grabbing at another bottle of wine and preparing to remove the cork.
"More to drink? We are eating and being merry, after all – the three usually go hand in hand..."
C.C. hesitated. Did she really want more? She wasn't exactly used to imbibing since her father had seldom allowed her to try alcohol. She'd never drunk more than two glasses of wine (and she'd already had two tonight) so did she dare to go for a third one?
It wouldn't do her too much harm, would it?
Besides, it wasn't like her parents were there to stop her, were they? She was a self-sufficient adult, and as such she was entitled to make her own decisions. She could have more delicious wine if she so chose! She knew how to conduct herself around royals, and declining more wine would put a damper (or worse, an early end) to the evening. And she certainly did not want that.
"Please," she said with a smile, passing over her cup, which was soon filled to the brim with heady wine. The smell alone was making her head spin, and if she was being honest, she rather liked the feeling.
It was a good feeling. Far better than anything she'd been thinking about before. It was very easy to forget about all sorts of worries while the powerful, intoxicating perfume of the drink was dancing through her mind; duty, her place and his, how everything would be over by sunrise...
Whether any of it was fair or not...
The drink made it all go away. The more they drank and the more they talked, the more it felt like the night wasn't moving past, even if it was and they'd truly been there, eating and talking and laughing, for hours. Everything felt like it could last longer, with every sip that she took. It was as though she were becoming just that little bit more invincible.
And Niles seemed as though he were just that little bit more charming...she wanted to say so, too, but she knew that she couldn't do that...
She was on the cusp of not knowing it (or at least not remembering), but she held her tongue while she was still just about sensible. Besides, she'd be interrupting his funny story.
Or, as much of it as he could tell while the wine was making its way through his veins.
"An'...an' then, I got down from the horse and I was about to...to ask this farmer if I was on the right road to get to...to...Canterbury! Yes, Canterbury. But then, he says to me..."
It was getting harder to hold it in with every passing moment. The wine kept flowing and she swore that his eyes looked more like a bright summer sky every time she looked up...
And his smile... boy, was it charming! She observed him laugh in awe, all the while smiling adoringly at him. She didn't remember the last time she'd let herself show just how much she cared about him, but right then she could bring herself to pretend anymore. Restraint and demureness had gotten the (temporary) heave-ho; she only wanted to enjoy from this evening, especially when she was sure it would never happen again. Not like this.
Not with hi—
"C.C.?"
Her name being called by the prince brought her out of her reverie. She couldn't really say when it had happened, but the prince had at some point gotten to his feet and was now stood next to her, a hand outstretched her way.
Was...was he inviting her to come with him? Where to? And why?
"Sir?" she rasped out, eyes locked with his.
"I asked if you would like to dance with me..."
As he spoke those words, her imagination was suddenly unfettered. She could almost see what would follow if she took his hand. They would dance and sing and maybe laugh the night away and then... well... if he followed his usual pattern (according to the stories the other maids had told her), things would soon be moved to his private rooms. She'd have once resented this, perhaps, but tonight she simply couldn't care less.
She...well...actually, she found that she did not completely resent the idea. It was more like she was warming up to it. After all, her life would be one of solitude. Would...would it really be so wrong to let a man – and this man in particular – claim her?
It went against everything she'd been taught and the values her parents had so tirelessly drilled into her, but again, she couldn't bring herself to care. He...he was the one man she'd be willing to give herself to, even if for a brief instant. She had no claim over his heart in the long run (a stupid royal princess would fill in for that role, not her), but she would treasure the moments they were together.
So, without really giving it a second thought, she took his hand.
"I...yes, I would like that...very much..."
There wasn't any point in keeping him waiting. And there were far worse ways for...things...to happen, than letting him simply do what he always did.
She tried not to wonder how many other girls he'd invited to dance first (wanting at least something to be special, so he might remember their night in the future, over at least some of the others), before the pattern repeated itself, and let herself be escorted by him to his rooms or, if he was feeling impatient, to a clear space on the dining room floor.
They had no bards, musicians, or any form of rhythm-maker other than the occasional beat-like crackle that came from the fire. But it was better than nothing at all. If she weren't at least a little bit preoccupied, she might have even thought that any dancing with Niles, whether silent or played along to by a whole orchestra, was perfect just as it was.
If it was all she'd ever get, she'd take it just as it was.
It wasn't like anybody would ever ask her about it later, anyway. Spinster servants who had thrown all their prospects away were rarely subjects of interest in...well, anything...
She very nearly giggled at the idea of such a thought explaining why Prudence acted as she did. And then she very much hoped that she would not turn out like Prudence, in her later years...
"Have you danced a lot before?"
The question snapped her out of her Prudence-related thoughts, directly back to Niles and the present moment.
The present moment being in his hold. Ready to begin the lead-up to the only night she'd ever spend with him, or any man.
It wasn't like she'd ever marry. Not when she had so little to her name. No husband would ever complain or demand to know why she hadn't been saved for him. She'd go about her life alone and that would be that. She could more than accept and live with it – she'd learn to embrace it, over the years.
She'd been lonely since her family had gone. She knew how to bear that pain.
That, combined with enough wine to stun a horse, led her to throw whatever caution she had left straight to the wind.
So, as they slowly began to dance, she tried her hardest to be like how she'd seen other girls behaving around the prince. They were confident, fun, and clearly ready for whatever happened next. They knew how to flirt and they weren't afraid to do it, if they wanted someone.
She had to try and be that way, too.
"I did, when I was younger," she told him, letting him lead. He was good – maybe he'd make her only time good, too. "Not so much, anymore."
Niles quirked an eyebrow, "You have no wish to?"
C.C. chuckled, and tried not to stumble on the floor. It was bad enough she hadn't done anything before, he especially wasn't going to want a clumsy, inexperienced girl.
"No...no real time. I only ever went to one ball, but I got a lot of practice when I was younger. My parents loved to host parties – that was where I got the time to dance..."
She didn't know what was wrong, but even explaining that hurt deeply in her chest. So much so, she didn't know if she could breathe.
She had to continue, though. She couldn't let this get in the way of the one night she had always been told would be unlike any other she'd ever have. She wouldn't get it again! If she had to be alone, she wanted to be able pretend, for one night, that she wasn't going to be...
But the image of her parents flashed in her mind, and all she could think of was them, her body starting to slow down and cease to dance.
"My mother...she always liked dressing me up for house dinners...to prepare me for their popular soirées...my father helped prepare me, too...when I was little, I used to dance on his shoes...!"
That was when she crumbled, starting to dissolve into tears, complete with the soft, quiet sobs of a daughter still deeply in mourning. A daughter who'd never had time to mourn, and who missed time with her parents, more than anything in the world.
And Niles was suddenly set into panicking.
This wasn't the way he'd meant for the evening to go! He'd wanted to dance, and laugh, and see C.C. smile some more – she'd probably had too much to drink; as much as him, but she clearly couldn't hold it like he could!
What was he going to do?! He wasn't accustomed to seeing people cry so much! Drunk or not, people were usually happy, or at least calm, when he was around! He couldn't just stand there, looking and acting useless! He had to do something – he couldn't let his friend just suffer and sob like she was!
Taking an uneasy step forward, he tried to reach out to her.
"Oh, C.C...! C.C., it's alright...!"
He felt clumsy as he spoke. Inadequate. He knew it wasn't alright for her, and it probably wouldn't be alright for a long time, so him saying that it would be okay was, to some extent, lying. He didn't want to be untrue. Not to her. But what else could he say? He had no words to offer and no way to take away her pain. He would if he could. God knows he'd give it all to make her happy.
But he was just a man. Royal, yes, but a man, nonetheless.
He had little experience with consoling women (he was used to being the one causing the crying in fact), but he supposed a good first step was holding her. Women liked that, didn't they? Being held in a safe embrace...
He didn't think he'd ever hugged a woman before (apart from his mother, of course) but he was nothing if daring; he would honour the saying "You'll never know what you can do until you try".
Very gently, he wrapped his arms around the crying lady and pulled her frail figure to him. She felt delicate in his embrace. Small. He didn't want to break her, but one wrong move and she'd crumble into dust right before his eyes. He'd never hated the look of tears so much, as when he realised that they could visit and cling to such a delicate face, staying as proof of the heart-wrenching turmoil going on in her chest. They were soon falling on his chest too, wetting his clothes and soaking them with a sadness his body had never produced.
But it was a small price to pay, to see and know that he was giving C.C. all the comfort she could manage. It was all the comfort he could manage, too, and he wanted the experience – as unexpected and panic-inducing as it was. In a way, it showed her she could still get what she needed, when she needed it given to her.
And he was determined to be the one to give her what she needed. He'd never been so sure of anything in his life, which might have once terrified him, but now...now it was all just part of being a friend.
And, even in between her sobs, the part of C.C. that was struggling to fight for sobriety acknowledged and appreciated the comfort. It unfortunately just happened to be overwhelmed by the part giving into the alcohol, which was determined to stay in its state of misery.
"I just...I just miss them so much...!"
Niles hugged her just a little tighter, heart breaking for the poor woman. Of course she missed her family! He couldn't imagine what it'd be like to be alone in the world and have no one to run to when the day was done.
Well...she did have someone to go to. He...he'd be there for her. He'd promised to himself he would help her out, hadn't he?
Still, he hadn't told her about any of his plans to help. Mainly because he'd wanted to delay having to find her a husband since he knew that, the moment he did so, their friendship would be interrupted, and she'd have to attend to her duties as wife and mother. The thought of her in the arms of another man still burned him deeply, but what other choice did he have? He'd have to learn to live with it.
The second reason he hadn't told her about his plan to help was, naturally, the fire. He'd been so busy that he'd hardly had time to leave his office, let alone have a long, meaningful conversation with Lady Babcock. It had simply slipped his mind.
But maybe... maybe now was the time to tell her. Let her known that, even if she now fell alone, it would not be forever. Not if it was up to him.
"I know you miss them, C.C.," he said, "But I promise you, I will make sure you don't feel alone again. I...I want you to be happy."
She pulled away from his chest then, blinking those beautiful, mournful blue eyes up at him. The glow of the fire made the tears glisten in their corners, but the brightness in the rest of them spoke of a hope she hadn't had before.
"Really...?"
Even if it pained him deeply, he forced his way through it to nod a reply.
"Yes...I...I'll do whatever that takes. I'll find you someone. A proper husband! I'll pay your dowry...! He'll be a good man, nothing less, and he'll love you..."
He was almost on the floor by the time he'd finished saying that, it all hurt so much. She was pulling at his heart and his senses were all out of control, even as she stood there listening to him. She was beyond compare, and it was making the words stick in his mouth and his tongue tripped over itself as he tried to finish.
"I...I won't let you be with someone...someone who doesn't...doesn't love y..."
He couldn't take it anymore. It was all too much. Not even letting himself finish, he pulled her back into his arms and let his lips press themselves to hers. There was a yelp of surprise from her at first, but it didn't take long for either to melt into it. Her body fit snugly against his, and his arms were strong and protective around her waist and lower back. Her hand fumbled, but eventually found its inexperienced way to his cheek, where it found a comfortable resting place. The other made itself comfortable around his shoulders, where it had been before, when they were dancing.
And all thoughts of suitors and dowries and other things like that were gone. They were replaced with...nothing. At least, nothing of this world – instead, it was only the two of them, held in one embrace among the stars. There were no other people. Nothing else mattered, apart from the feeling of lips that seemed as though they had been made to fit his, and a slight-but-growing thought of what else about her had been made to fit him...
That thought snapped him back to reality, with an anger, a sense of shock and surprise – all directed at himself.
It was so great, he pulled out of the kiss immediately.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
He ducked away from her, ashamed of himself to the point of mortification and not wanting to see any sign of an angry or hurt expression on her face. He'd earned whatever ire she'd give, but he still couldn't bear the thought of it.
What had he been thinking?! What had he just done?! Lady Babcock was vulnerable right then! She was drunk on the wine! Why the hell had he thought that anything of what had just happened had been a good idea?!
God, how had he just suddenly become so stupid?! This wasn't right! She deserved so much more than to be taken advantage of, like he just had! What kind of a cad was he, that he'd not been able to help himself?! Had he not been able to help himself, or was that an excuse he was using to make it all seem alright?!
He couldn't tell. All he could do was just keep apologising for taking her choice away, as though it were only his decision to make.
"Lady Babcock – C.C.! Please, forgive me! I...I don't know what I was thin––"
"Niles!" her voice, shaking as though she'd made up her mind about a difficult and scary but necessary decision, cut straight across his attempts at saying sorry. "It's...it's alright..."
He shook his head again, more desperately this time, "No, it isn't alright! I shouldn't have done that. Not when you're...you mean so much more to me than some...half-drunken taking advantage! I don't want to ruin what we have. You're...you're special to me, and I don't want that to go away...!"
He'd pushed so many people away already with his behaviour... he didn't want this to be the latest link in a long chain of disappointments. He'd let plenty of women down before – some he regretted, some he honestly didn't, but the one person he simply couldn't abide letting down, was Lady Babcock.
She was kind, smart, fun to be around, she took an interest in his general wellbeing even when there was nothing in it for her... he couldn't in good conscience throw away the one good relationship he'd ever had with a member of the opposite sex.
Yes, he would give everything he had to take her to his bed and pleasure her like he'd never pleasured any other woman before. But, was it worth it? Ruining her one chance at happiness for one night of pleasure? He didn't believe it to be fair to her, least when she was too intoxicated to even consent to the act.
No, he had to pull himself together. He had to put her future and happiness first. She was not some common slut to use one time and then throw her to the curb. She was his friend, and friends took care of one another, even if letting her go to another man was making his heart ache.
"I...I am sorry," he repeated, not quite managing to look at her in the eye. "My behaviour was distasteful and disgraceful. I...I completely understand if you do not wish to associate with me any longer – I will arrange for a carriage to take you back to Whitehall, if you so desire. But please, do forgive me."
C.C. nearly stumbled, but managed to keep her feet planted firmly where they were.
He...he wanted forgiveness? Not to...to claim her? Because she was special?
She almost considered asking why he thought she was, but decided that maybe it was a question better left far away from any conversation they'd ever have. She couldn't imagine why he might think it, and it was probably for the best that she didn't try to find out. That was for his comfort, as well as her own. He already looked as though he felt awful enough, without having to explain himself.
Not that he even had to explain himself now! He hadn't done anything that needed apologising for! The kiss had been...well, it had been a surprise, but she had enjoyed it! She'd felt...warm. Safe. She hadn't truly felt either of those things in a long time – not since she'd been forced out of her home and into a little bedroom in the lowest floors of the palace...
He'd made her feel like she was home again. Even if only for a little while, and there would never be a second time.
He didn't need forgiveness for that. He needed thanking.
Closing the gap in the floor that he'd made, C.C. stepped forward and took his hands in hers.
"There's nothing to forgive...and I don't want to go anywhere. I...you're special to me, too..."
The prince's eyes widened, almost as if he were in disbelief. His expression was rather comical, really (that was probably the alcohol speaking) but she made an effort to not laugh at him. She knew it wouldn't be appreciated. No, they had to tread carefully through this new territory and perhaps dance around the elephant in the room.
After all, this night wouldn't matter, morning come. Some things were better left unsaid, otherwise they risked opening a Pandora's box that could very well bring about pain and grief in equal measure. No, they had to enjoy the moment and not think about the implications.
She didn't wish to ponder over why he didn't want to bed her, or why he considered her different or special. She wanted him, for as long as she could have him. And that, she knew, would be until sunrise. Probably sooner, if either of them fell asleep.
"Come," she said to him with borrowed confidence, tugging at his hand, "Enough dancing for tonight. Let us rest on the sofa – I would be most pleased to hear more of my lord's stories."
As long as he had stories to tell, she had a fighting chance of prolonging everything. She knew that her chance now of ever being with a man had gone – it had vanished when he'd told her that wasn't what he wanted, from their evening or perhaps even entirely. But she could still pretend that they had something that could remain close to both of their hearts, not just hers.
She'd need it, in the years to come. When she was older, working her job to earn what money she could, living her life as though nothing was wrong and going to bed alone at night. It might be cold, sometimes. But a lonely life still had purpose. And she thought that maybe she could be on the cusp of finding the lonely woman she was destined to be.
Thinking it more was starting to make it hurt less.
But she didn't even have to do that, right then. She very easily distracted herself by getting them both out of the dining room and into the little salon, where the most comfortable seat in the lodge was kept.
Niles wasn't sure about any of it. Could she really just be dismissing everything that he'd done? Had been about to do? How could she forget about it, without any need for forgiveness, when he could have put her in an awful position without even thinking?
He tried to ask her this, "C.C., are you completely sure––"
"There's nothing more to discuss," her voice cut across his, somehow both gentle and final at the same time. But then...then, it turned sad. "Let's just...enjoy the night."
Enjoy the night. That sounded like a good idea, even if everything that had happened before had been so wrong, it had spoiled it. He'd ruined whatever it was that they'd had, without a doubt, but the idea of trying to salvage what could be salvaged seemed reasonable, in his mind.
He'd use the night to make it up to her, however he could. And maybe he'd end up enjoying the night as well, if she was...
That was why, as they came to the little sofa and seated themselves so they relaxed into it, he didn't mind her snuggling against his side. Well, he sort of minded, in that it hurt beyond belief to know that the next man she'd do that with (and so much more), would be her husband.
But he had to put on a brave face, and try to enjoy what he could. One day, yes, she would be in her own home, embracing her husband and laughing at his stories. But, just for that night, it was him. It was his stories she wanted to hear, and it was his side that she felt warm and comfortable against.
He had to let go. And that would come easier as he distracted himself with a story.
"There was...one occasion, when I was much younger, that I got separated from a hunting party in the New Forest..."
The fire had died out in the hearth by the time Niles woke up. Only a small heap of ashes and unburnt charcoal remained, lonesome in their stony casement and a blackened testament of the time that had gone by, like sand being sifted through a young maiden's fingers.
He glanced over at the window and found that the moon was still up in the sky, occupying pride of place. It had slivered down to a thin shard from the last time he'd actually taken the time to look at it; for some reason, he felt it was a rather ominous omen signalling his time with Lady Babcock was coming to an end.
And speaking of which, he was mildly surprised to find that the lady in question had dozed off against him, golden head nestled in the crook of his neck. They were cuddled up in an almost... intimate fashion, the prince thought. Some would deem this inappropriate, but he couldn't bring himself to care one whit about what some naysayers would have said or thought about them. He couldn't recall when either of them had succumbed to sleep, bur he reasoned they must have dozed off in quick succession. It made sense, considering the amount of food and liquor that had gone into their systems the night before.
Accompanying his memories of feasting and drinking also came rather mortifying images of his little slip with Lady Babcock. He could feel his cheeks reddening and an uncomfortable heat spreading across his body with unprecedented speed.
He had to get her out of there, fast. Again, she deserved better than to be gossiped about, even for innocently falling asleep next to him.
It wasn't like it was a crime, but the way it would be talked about if any of the servants saw...well, it was sufficient to say that he wanted to spare her any humiliation that could pop up out of nowhere to surprise them.
That was how he found himself slipping his arms underneath her and gently lifting. She didn't feel heavy to him, and he knew that there would be no trouble in carrying her through the lodge to her room.
But he did have to practically tear his imaginings in two when a mental image came up of a faceless but tall and well-muscled man carrying her bridal-style through the doors of a lavish country house.
It was still the night. It was still his time with her.
Even if it seemed to end far too soon, as he reached her door and slipped into the room before any servants who happened to be awake could see.
Her bed was the best place for her, and even if it was difficult to get her there, he managed a sort-of compromise that involved putting her down and wrapping her up in the blankets. No clothes were removed, apart from her shoes, and he stood back immediately after he was done.
She was just as much of an angel in her sleep as she was when she was awake...
She was going to make someone the happiest man on Earth, one day. And her life would be filled to the brim with so much love and joy that one dinner, a dance and a kiss with a prince would feel like nothing.
He hoped it wouldn't be nothing, but he couldn't guarantee it. That was just the way things were supposed to be.
"I...I hope that you remember this night," he said quietly, unable to help the frown that formed even at the idea of her forgetting. "I know I will."
He turned on his heel then, the ghost of her warm body lingering on his skin as he made his way out of her room and covered the distance to his own chambers. Within, he found a servant still awake; he was keeping the fire in his hearth alive, just as he'd been tasked with doing.
Because princes absolutely couldn't go without a warm room for the night, right?
"Go and light up a fire in Lady Babcock's room," he barked at the man by way of dismissal. "I no longer require your services."
He barely paid attention to the servant's reply and bow, his mind still reeling from the events that bad transpired only hours ago. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep that night.
The best he could hope for, was a few short hours of lying in bed, reliving over and over again the glorious moments when he'd been able to call Lady Babcock his.