Chapter Eleven

Very early Wednesday morning, Castle could not help but let out an involuntary moan as he stepped out of Heathrow Airport. Though he'd traveled on all-night flights to Europe before, he had forgotten just how grueling they could be. Thanks to some over-the-counter sleeping pills, he had been able to get a few hours in, but they weren't enough and by that point the pills were just aiding in his grogginess. He needed coffee. Except—shit—he was in the land of tea drinkers, wasn't he? Well, there had to be a Starbucks somewhere.

As Castle rode to his hotel, he skimmed through his email, pausing on the itinerary Kate had sent him. His maid of honor duties were in full swing now that the wedding was just a few days away. A few days—just over eighty hours.

When Castle set out on his journey to convince his best friend that she was marrying the wrong man, he did not except to get this close to the wedding without convincing her to break off her engagement. He was sure he only needed a week, possibly a little longer. Yet, there he sat, in a foreign country, not quite three weeks after learning of Kate's engagement; the wedding still on.

Why the hell did she have to get married so damn quickly anyway? He, of course, knew the reason why. Though she never said, he suspected Kate would be alright with moving with William to Cairo if they were just engaged—possibly even if they were just dating. William, on the other hand, was not comfortable with premarital cohabitation. If they were going to be together, he'd explained during their last meal together in the states, they needed to be together in the legal sense. Stupid William; running all his plans! But now it all came down to these final three days.

In a way, it made sense. As a writer, Castle found that he did his best work under pressure—at the absolute cusp of a deadline. In the weeks leading up to his deadlines, he would sit at his computer for hours doing nothing but searching YouTube and dozens of other websites invented solely to waste time. Yet, suddenly, at the eleventh hour he was able to hon in and complete the chapters on time. This, he hoped, was exactly how he would approach the wedding. Fortunately, as the maid of honor, he had plenty of opportunities to do so.

Per Kate's schedule, Castle was to report to the Fitzgerald residence promptly at six p.m. to dine with Kate, William, William's parents and William's brother, Edmund. Though Castle initially protested his invitation upon what appeared to be a family event, Kate informed him that, really, he could think of it as a wedding party dinner as Edmund was his brother's best man. The only missing member of the group would be Kate's father who, due to a preexisting work commitment, would not be arriving until the following afternoon.

Though Castle planned on skimming through the rest of his itinerary and finding opportunities to talk Kate out of marrying the foreigner, the nice soft bed in his hotel room was calling his name, so he gave in to his body's desire for a nap; there would be plenty of time for plotting after he awoke.

Just before six Castle arrived at the fancy London home of the Fitzgerald family. Though impressive looking with a stone exterior and large windows, Castle did not find the residence welcoming at all. Stepping inside the foyer, his suspicions were confirmed further when he found himself surrounded by dark colored flooring and wood paneled walls adorned with ancient seeming artifacts. Impressive, yes; cozy and welcoming, no. Then again, he supposed, the décor seemed to match the personality of the residents quite well.

"Castle!"

The quite hiss of his friend pulled his attention from the ancient looking painting of a stern-faced man wearing many military commendations to that of an elegantly dressed woman. She wore the same navy gown she'd worn to his mother's wedding in the spring. Back before this whole mess was started. Her hair and jewelry were the same, but missing from her face was his favorite feature: her disarming smile.

Glancing down at his khaki pants and feeling wildly underdressed he hissed, "What are you wearing?"

"What are you wearing?" she echoed. "I told you to dress for dinner."

"Yeah, dinner with William's folks not dinner with the queen!"

She groaned and rolled her eyes. "No, remember? I told you to dress Downton Abbey style." She specifically remembered using the TV reference to drive her point home.

He blinked at her. "I thought you were kidding."

"Castle!"

"Oh c'mon it's not that bad. At least I have the blazer on," he said, tugging at the hem of his navy jacket.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she looked at him. "Maybe William has a tie you can wear…"

"I don't need a tie," Castle returned while thinking, there's no way in hell I'm wearing one of his ties. "Besides, wouldn't it be worse if we were late to dinner?"

Her brow rose as she considered this point. Ultimately, she agreed with a nod and walked over to smooth the shoulders of his slightly rumpled blazer with her hands. "Just be on your best behavior, ok?"

He twisted his lips to the side. "C'mon Kate—what do you think I'm going to do? Break out a whoopee cushion?" He was almost insulted at the insinuation. Yes, in the past, when they'd had dinners with Kevin and Javier he had pulled out a whoopee cushion (well, electronic fart machine) but he absolutely knew how to present a good image when he needed to and the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass Kate in the unlikely event that she did marry into the Fitzgerald family.

She groaned and dropped her forehead onto his shoulder. "God, I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't do that I'm just… I want this dinner to go well. That's all."

Castle sighed as he leaned his cheek against the top of her head and skimmed his hand gently across her back. "So," he asked as quietly as he could manage, "What kind of mother-in-law stereotype does Mrs. Fitzgerald fit? Crazy? Eccentric? Stick up her ass?"

"Castle!" She hissed, lifting her head so quickly she almost caught his jaw.

He smirked at her. "What? It's just a hunch, but I'm thinking it's not the 'warm and cuddly' type."

"Why do you say that?"

He blinked at her slowly as he spoke. "Because I know you and you're freaking out."

Kate sighed and looked around to make sure no one else was in earshot. "No, she's…she's fine. Nice."

Castle fought a laugh. "Mm no. Want to try again?"

She looked back at him, defeated. "She is nice—polite, I mean. I just…I can't tell if she doesn't like me or if we're still fighting the British-American cultural barrier."

Castle bobbed his head in understanding then pulled his blazer a bit straighter across his shoulders. "Okay, I got it—pretend like we're dining with The Queen. All P's and Q's will be minded."

Kate mouthed a thank you to him before hooking his elbow with her hand and pulling him towards the dining room where the Fitzgerald family awaited.

Castle was trying. Honest to god, he was trying. He genuinely did not want to mess up the dinner with Kate. Yes, he wanted to stop the wedding, but there was a time and a place for conversations like that, and that time and place was not in front of William's entire family. For Kate—and only for Kate—he intended to put on his best suave-and-debonair Richard Castle attitude. The only problem was it did not seem to be working.

For starters, Castle did not like the Fitzgerald's. True, he had only been in their presence for an hour's time and that judgement was probably unfair, but they were just…dull. Exceedingly dull. And, yes, it probably was in part attributed to what Kate had mentioned earlier—the British-American cultural barrier—but my god, were they dull!

William's parents—Charlotte and William Senior—were more or less as he expected: extremely proper and dripping with class. Castle felt as though a meal with them would also be a lesson in etiquette. Edmund, on the other hand, was just about as interesting as a brown paper bag. He had zero facial expressions, no voice inflection and barely looked at anyone when he spoke. Castle continually fought a yawn every time Edmund was the central focus of their meal.

With his career as a mystery writer, Castle considered himself to be a keen observer of those around him. He was good at reading people after years and years of practice. It only took him about five minutes at the Fitzgerald dining table to realize that while the family was proud of both their sons the elder Edmund was the shining star. He thought Mrs. Fitzgerald would run out of breath listing his degrees, awards and accommodations. (Castle had foolishly tried to compare himself with a shared bachelor's in literature and journalism, to the illustrious career of Edmund, who was apparently Britain's foremost expert in something literature related so boring Castle failed to retain it.)

Though he was vaguely familiar with them, William's mother also rattled off her younger son's degrees before pointing out that Kate had plenty of time to catch up—perhaps she could even pursue another degree while in Cairo. Even Castle fought a flinch at the backhanded insult. In his mind, Kate's doctorate was something to be extremely proud of, but evidently Mrs. Fitzgerald disagreed; it was impressive, just not impressive enough.

Castle was surprised to see Kate respond with merely a demure smile and a continued focused attention on her meal, which she ate with the delicacy of a purebred mouse: one tiny nibble at a time. He knew for certain the Kate he had known for a decade must have been dying inside; ready to jump out of her skin and vehemently defend the years and years of her life she spent earning that degree.

As the evening continued, it was clear education would be an overarching theme in their conversations. At one point, Eaton College entered the discussion. Castle recognized the name as it had been discussed in the context of the royals that had attended it. In that sense, he knew the school to be prestigious, but did not know much else about it.

"It's a fantastic place for young men," William Senior said. "My father went there, I went there, my sons went there and their sons will, too."

"Isn't…isn't Eaton a boarding school?" Castle asked, his gaze drifting between the Williams.

Kate's fiancé nodded. "Is there something wrong with boarding schools?"

Castle shook his head before taking a sip of his wine. "No, not really I just…I didn't think Kate liked them." His eyes turned to his friend while he fought to keep his expression placid. Ah, an unanticipated opportunity to point out yet another reason why William and Kate weren't meant for each other. Well, he certainly wasn't going to turn down such a blatant opening, but in this case even more tact was required.

Under her friend's prying eye, Kate's focus remained on her dinner plate. As she did not respond, William did for her. "I'm sure if Kate said that she meant American boarding schools." His tone indicated that boarding schools in America were akin to prisons or Wild West encampments, but Castle chose not to take the bait. "Eaton is one of the best schools in the country."

Castle smiled gently. "I have no doubt that they are academically superior, but that's not what I was talking about."

"Boarding schools are not just about the education, Mr. Castle," William's mother said, "but the experience; the atmosphere.

"Believe me, Mrs. Fitzgerald, I'm intimately familiar with the atmosphere of a boys' boarding schools; I attended one for several years in my youth and, from that experience, I learned that I would never send my children to a boarding school; they miss out on far too much."

In his pre-teen years, Castle had become a victim of his mother's career as a traveling actress. With her between husbands and his biological father nowhere to be found, Castle found himself shipped off to a boarding school so he could be cared after and educated while she was on the road. Though the quality of the education might have been superior to that of public schools in the city, Castle had spent so much time acting out to get attention (and in a fruitless attempt to be kicked out) he'd hardly taken advantage of it and was certain he would have fared better at home seeing his mother on a daily basis.

Unfazed by Castle's comments, Mrs. Fitzgerald continued. "A school like Eaton provides the absolute best opportunities."

"To be with family? Parents? Siblings? Grandparents?" the writer challenged. "How about going outside and throwing around a baseball with your father after dinner? Or the whole family curling up together on a rainy Saturday afternoon and watching cartoons or a movie. Or," Castle paused and locked eyes with Kate before saying, "Sunday morning brunch."

Castle saw her lips twitch and knew he'd struck a chord with her. Even better, he knew his comment would not register any strongly with the Fitzgerald family than anything else he said. Brunch didn't mean anything to them, but it did for Kate. Taking note of the fact that she looked away from him quickly he consider that moment his very first "win."

Mrs. Fitzgerald cleared her throat and sat up a bit straighter. "Tell me, Mr. Castle do you have much experience raising a family."

"I do not. I'm not married nor do I have children, but there's no harm in planning for the future."

"I see. So you do plan to marry?"

Castle bobbed his head. "Of course. I just have yet to find the right woman."

Despite herself, Kate let out a small laugh she attempted to pass off as a cough. Her attempt failed and earned her a snide look from her friend. "Something you'd like to share Kate?" he asked, forgetting momentarily whose presence they were in.

"No, nothing…but maybe if you want to get married you should try dating women with IQ's over 100."

Castle laughed. "Touché."

"From what I heard, Rick can be quite the scoundrel," William commented.

Castle's eyes shot towards the man. Insults from his best friend he would take. From the fiancé? No way in hell. Fortunately, William's mother stopped him before he could say anything too foolish or insulting by suggesting that topic was not appropriate conversation for dinner.

Half an hour later, the meal had taken a slight upturn. Though his few attempts to make William's family laugh had failed, he did manage to get a chuckle or two out of Kate, which he considered a success. Before the Fitzgerald's began to serve the dessert—er, "pudding"—Castle asked if he could be excused to the restroom. Surprisingly, Kate jumped out of her seat and offered to escort him.

"I can follow directions, you know," Castle commented on their way out of the dining room.

"You'd think that…but bathrooms are tucked weird places in old houses like these," she explained, leading him back a narrow hallway towards the kitchen. Castle could not help but think she might want a few minute break from the prying eyes and ears of the Brits. His suspicions were confirmed when he exited the bathroom and found her standing there.

"Afraid I'm going to steal the silverware?" he jested.

"No just…" She let out a defeated sigh. "They hate me don't they?"

"Hate's a strong word, Kate," he said pointedly. "But if you want my honest opinion: no I don't think they're exactly jumping for joy that you're marrying into the family. But hey you know what?" he added at her saddening expression. "I know they'll grow to love you because you're impossible not to love."

She let out a bitter laugh. "That's a lie, but I appreciate the effort."

As they turned another corner, Castle remained silently thankful that Kate had waited to lead him back; he had been turned around in the unfamiliar space. As they neared the entrance of the dining room, he could hear evidence of a conversation taking place. The closer they drew, the voice of William's mother became clearer.

"…It's not completely her fault. With her mother dying when she was young, being raised by her father—it's no wonder she's a little rough around the edges. That's just something you need to consider."

"I have considered, Mother and I-" William stopped abruptly when he realized his stone-faced fiancée stood in the doorway to the dining room. Awkwardly, he stood from the table and dropped his napkin onto his seat. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Kate hurried off so quickly towards the front of the house she nearly knocked Castle down in her haste.

When he righted himself, he took a step into the room and stared down each of the Brits. He had been polite long enough—he would not stand for them insulting his best friend, particularly not when they had the facts completely wrong.

"Actually, Kate's mother died when she was nineteen and, though she doesn't want to admit it, I know she's having a really hard time doing all of this without her mother here, so you might want to consider that next time you go to criticize."

For a solid minute they remained in silence before Castle turned to William and asked, "Aren't you going to go check on her?"

William's eyes widened and he looked as though Castle had just volunteered him to be that year's tribute in the Hunger Games. "Wh-what? Ah, she's fine. She'll be back in a minute."

Castle shook his head, completely disgusted. Of course William was the kind of man who didn't want to deal with the nitty-gritty. A crying woman? No thanks! She'll be fine on her own.

He took two steps in the direction Kate disappeared but then stopped and turned back. Not even caring about good impressions anymore he said, "You don't even deserve her."

After panicking for the first thirty second, completely uncertain of how he would find his friend in an expansive and unfamiliar home, Castle mercifully spotted a shadow on the front porch and headed out the door from which he entered. There, her arms folded tightly over her chest, Kate stood facing away from the front door. He approached her as though she was on the ledge of a ten story building.

Despite it being summer, Castle noted coolness in the air, so he took off his blazer and draped it gingerly around her shoulders. Once it rested against her skin, she snuck her hands up and pulled it tighter. Sniffing back tears she said, "I'm being stupid, I know."

"Never, Kate."

He heard her breath in sharply and she whipped her head back to look at him. Though the surprise on her face lasted only a moment, Castle realized she had initially thought he was William. As she was already upset, he refrained from pointing out that her fiancé thought she would be fine without being checked on.

Once Kate was full aware of her porch companion, she shook he head and took a step towards him. "I didn't realize how hard this would be without her."

"I know."

"My dad will be here tomorrow; that should help."

"Is there anything I can do…"

She offered him a fractured smile. "No I'm fine."

Despite her words, Castle knew she was anything but. He stepped forward, opened his arms, and she fell willingly into him. Though no more tears fell, she tucked her head beneath his chin and wrapped her arms around his waist. Castle skimmed his hands gently up and down her back knowing that he would hold her close for as long as she needed.