Royal Matchmaker
Chapter Five
"So, I have a feeling that if I just walk through that giant hall he'll probably be somewhere, I mean he oversees everything."
They had resumed their stroll through town and were just rounding the corner of a large two-story building when Tosh noticed that Owen's son was seated behind a table with a large umbrella over it festooned with banners declaring that hot cocoa and milk, biscuits and faery cakes were for sale.
"Oh look! There's his son now!" Tosh hurried over. "Rudy!"
A proper gentleman born and bred, Rudy immediately rose to his feet. "Good day, ma'am and sir," and he sketched a very short bow in their direction. "May we interest you in a treat? It's for charity."
"Sure!"
"Yes, thank you."
The woman seated at the table with Rudy and another student explained, "We're trying to save the St James Community Centre," and she gestured at the building behind them.
Tosh and Ianto studied the building; it was three stories high, and above the arched entry way was a beautiful four-windowed bay atop of which was an open balcony, and Ianto's mind immediately saw the classic balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet being played to an appreciative audience below.
"It's a beautiful building," Tosh agreed.
"Unfortunately, it's in need of repair," the teacher said sadly. "The heating system is on its last legs and if we don't fix it soon we'll have to cancel our afternoon programs."
"Oh, no!" Ianto murmured sadly.
Ianto Gethin Jones had been born into a family who possessed a remarkable gift for tailoring; his grandfather once told him that a Jones male could accurately predict a man's inside leg just by his stride across the shop's threshold. The Joneses had proudly held a Royal Warrant for hundreds and hundreds of years, long before they ever journeyed across the stars to New Moon Cardiff. Ianto had spent hours as a small boy studying the family craft at his grand-tad's knee, listening to his many stories of bolts of fabric examined and admired, patterns employed and customised, and beautiful suits created and tailor-made for everything from daily office wear to royal wedding finery.
When Jones the Senior finally passed away, Jones the Junior stepped up to the plate, but try as he might, Ianto's father never quite grasped the social niceties of running a successful shop. He maintained a lovely shop, plenty of widely varied stock, books always in order, never a penny in debt to anyone. There was absolutely no fault with his needlework – his work was openly admired – but his attitude left so, so much to be desired. Rather than design a suit to help disguise the expansive waistline of a portly gentleman as his father had done before him, Ianto's father would tell the man to his face that if he cut back on the biscuits he'd be a lot easier to measure.
Word soon got around the shop's line of loyal customers about his caustic tongue and unpleasant manner and business slowed down drastically, but it wasn't until a member of the Royal Family came in to be fitted for a mourning suit for the funeral of a beloved uncle that the final bell tolled for Jones the Tailor, founded in 1879, as proudly stated on the original brass plaque outside the door. Had it remained in its spot on the wall, the words 'Closed in 2259' would have been added.
Crown Prince Richard Albert, the husband and consort of Queen Elizabeth the 7th, arrived one afternoon to select an appropriate suit to wear to the funeral of the Queen's oldest uncle, Prince Edward. Edward had introduced Richard to his niece and had encouraged the relationship once he'd seen the attraction between the two. He'd been instrumental in helping young Richard find his way in the royal court and had inspired Richard to pursue his natural talent for painting; his glorious masterpieces reflecting historic and traditional England the way it had been well over a millennium ago now hung throughout the most prestigious museums in the quadrant.
Ianto's father, who'd spent most of the night before down at his local celebrating the Welsh Rugby team's spectacular win over Kitum of the Outer Rings, their biggest rival, was spectacularly hung-over and definitely not in the mood to observe the necessary protocol expected when dealing with a royal, even one as easy-going as Richard. After sticking the prince with a pin for the third time and being chastised by the prince's valet, Ianto's father had thrown his mug of tea at the servant and then told them both to "…get the feck out of my shop!"
The royal warrant had been pulled within the hour and the doors to Jones the Tailor closed less than a month later, just twenty years short of its four hundredth anniversary. After that, Jones the Junior could be found at any of the three pubs in town, drowning his sorrows with lager and crisps, leaving his family to eke out an existence on public assistance and what money Ianto's mam could make taking in laundry and cleaning other people's houses.
The community centre in his small town had been a godsend, a place where Ianto could go to escape his abusive father's alcohol-induced fits of rage while his mother simply barricaded herself in the cellar, running the washing machine to drown out her husband's shouting. His sister, Rhiannon, older by eight years, had a boyfriend with an old jalopy of a Hover he'd rebuilt with spit, twine and a prayer and she was rarely at home any more, leaving Ianto, age nine, to fend for himself.
Whenever his father went off on one of his reigns of terror, Ianto would climb out his bedroom window and go to the centre, where he could read and listen to music, and where an elderly woman would teach him about the lost art of elegant living; under her patient tutelage, he learned how to make polite conversation amongst all levels of society, from royalty to the common man, how to set a proper table as well as how to eat at it, how to dress and most importantly, how to read people, what they were saying and especially how to see and hear what they were keeping to themselves. It was because of her instruction that Ianto was the most sought-after match-maker and wedding planner he was today.
The idea that the community centre might be lost to generations of children to come struck a chord deep in Ianto's heart. He handed the little girl a thirty-credit chip in exchange for a large chocolate-chip cookie and two cups of cocoa. "Here you go, keep the change."
Rudy beamed at him. "Thanks, that's very generous!"
Tosh noticed the model that Rudy was building. "Wow, that's nice helicopter!"
"It's not as easy to put together as it looks," Rudy offered the nearly completed model for her inspection.
"That's another casualty of our afterschool activities," the teacher told her as she poured a cup of cocoa. "The crafts program fell by the wayside last month."
"Wow, you really have your hands full," Ianto accepted his cookie with a smile, breaking it in two and handing the bigger half to Toshiko.
"Well, actually, I just got here to Boeshane and I'm still getting settled," the woman admitted. "I haven't even had the chance to meet all the parents yet."
"Do you mind if I ask you what drew you to the cause?" Ianto handed Tosh her cocoa.
"After my husband was killed in battle on the shores of Bundan, I started questioning what I was doing with my life. So, I decided to come home to where I grew up and I came here and that's when I found my true passion." She gestured over her shoulder at the community centre. "I spent many happy hours here growing up and wanted to repay that happiness."
Ianto sipped his cocoa, enjoying the way the warmth slid down his throat; it had grown chilly as clouds gathered overhead, blocking the sun. "Wow! You're really lucky; not many people get the opportunity to do something they really love."
The woman smiled and nodded.
"Well, good luck guys," he and Tosh prepared to leave. "Delicious cocoa. Thank you."
Tosh waved her cookie at the kids. "Bye!"
Rudy stood up again as he said his good-byes and the little girl waved shyly.
Tosh leaned in close to Ianto as they walked away. "I love seeing how people just open up to you," she confided.
"Not everyone," Ianto scowled into his cocoa.
The royal Hover sped along the motorway, enroute back to the palace.
"There, see, that wasn't so unbearable, now was it." The King's voice had a note of smugness to it. "Typically, these lunches with Parliament members can be… trying."
Jack looked out the window and rolled his eyes.
"As for trying, how are things going with you and your matchmaker?"
Jack drew a deep breath before speaking. "I suppose you'd have to ask Ianto. According to you he's the expert in love."
King Franklin frowned. "If I had any confidence your own pursuits I would never have brought him onboard." He looked at his son. "I would have consulted with you prior to employing his services, but you and I rarely see eye-to-eye on anything these days."
"Yes, well, it appears that's a moot point now." Jack looked back out the window.
"I am confident that you will come to embrace his presence," the king nodded as though it were a done deal.
"Quite frankly, father, I think he's in over his head."
"Ianto is a deliberate young man, takes his job very seriously." The King frowned, "I expect that now you will give him the respect and consideration that he deserves." His tone brooked no argument and Jack wisely gave none.
"Indeed."
The remainder of the trip was spent in silence as each man perused his own thoughts.
Toshiko grabbed her notebook and pen and set off in search of her prey, and it wasn't long before she found him in the great hall having just left the library. "Owen!" she called out, inordinately pleased to see the man. "Just the man I was looking for!"
"Oh?"
"I was hoping you and I could find a common ground and have a conversation about your employer."
Owen smiled politely, "I'm afraid my loyalty to the prince prevents me from divulging any personal details." He started walking down the hall and Tosh fell in step beside him.
"Oh no!" she exclaimed. "I'm not asking you to kiss and tell…" she giggled, "or tell me who the prince has kissed. It's just that in order for us to do our jobs we really need to know more than the tabloids are telling us."
"Yes, well, the picture they paint couldn't be any further from the truth," Owen scowled deeply.
Tosh danced out in front of Owen, bringing him to a halt. "See, that's what we suspected! But without more to go on, we're going to be sending him on way more 'I don't' dates than 'I do's'…"
Owen frowned, already feeling himself giving in to Tosh.
"…which isn't going to help instil any confidence in the prince. He's already feeling sceptical."
"So, you're asking me to betray the confidence of a man to whom I swore my allegiance?" There was a slightly teasing tone to his question.
"I'm not asking you for the combo to the crown jewels," Tosh smiled back, realising that Owen was about to help her, "unless you want to give it to me?"
Owen cocked his head at her as if to say, 'really?'
"Look, I just need a little indication of Jack's true personality."
Owen thought for a moment before saying, "There's a fine line between being helpful and being deceitful."
Seeing that Owen wasn't going to help her, Tosh nodded sadly and turned away.
Feeling like a real cad for wiping her smile from her pretty eyes, Owen cleared his throat. "But…"
Tosh turned back hopefully.
"It is one I will gladly navigate if it means getting the prince any closer to finding his true happiness."
Clasping her notebook in front of her, Toshiko looked at Owen, really seeing him. "You really care about him, don't you?"
Owen floundered for words. "We were brought up together as children before I began service, and I was there for him when he lost his mother, and then he for me when I lost my wife." There was true sadness in Owen's eyes. "Those bonds run deep." He looked into her eyes for a moment and then brushed past her, walking quickly away.
As soon as he'd turned the corner, Tosh did a tiny victory dance right there in the middle of the hall. "Yes!" she whispered joyously.