Mary was playing games with Charles in the castle gardens when Francis walked out of one of the castle's exit doors and descended the stone steps.
She quickly paused the game she was playing and stopped to stare at him.
He looked handsome, there was no doubt about it, dressed almost casually in a black shirt and trousers, with his blond curls looking a little more unruly than usual. There was something about the way he was dressed today that made him seem more like a typical young man who was taking a day off from work.
For some reason, Mary's heart started to beat faster. When Mary had caught his eye while he'd been staring out of the window a few moments ago, she was sure that they'd shared a moment; it was like something had passed between them. Perhaps this day really would be a special day just for the two of them.
Suddenly realising that she was staring, Mary blinked rapidly a few times and tried to compose herself.
As Charles quickly became distracted and he ran off to carry on playing his games with a little girl with blonde hair who was also outside, running around the grounds, Mary walked slowly towards Francis.
He seemed to be watching her approach.
With every step, she thought about the secret that the king had just revealed to her-about how he believed that Francis was in love with her. She knew that she should be thinking about all of the other things that the king had said, but she couldn't get that one idea out of her head; it was the same idea that was making her increasingly nervous with every step closer she took towards the future King of France.
"Mary," Francis greeted her with a smile and a bow as she approached. Apparently, he hadn't fully switched off from royal protocol.
"Francis," Mary replied with a bow of her own, unable to think of anything else to say.
She was lost for words. She wasn't sure why. She also felt self-conscious in a way that she had never felt before. These moments of getting to see Francis like this-casual, unguarded, always threw her.
"Do you think I look under-dressed?" she couldn't help blurting out. She was worried now that her clothes would be too casual for the trip to Paris.
"You look beautiful," he replied quickly. Then his eyes widened as though he'd only just realised what he'd said.
Mary had to fight off a blush. Although, things were made easier by the fact that Francis seemed a little embarrassed, too.
An awkward silence suddenly passed between the two of them. It seemed that Francis wasn't sure what to say either.
Francis stood with his hands clasped behind his back, and the two of them seemed to shuffle from one foot to the other, not speaking.
In the silence, Mary wondered again if her clothes really were suitable for the day ahead-she had chosen to wear a simple white jumper over a black T-shirt and trousers, with plain black flat shoes to finish off the look. She had grown rather fond of wearing white jumpers ever since Francis had allowed her to wear his a few days ago.
"I have a surprise for you," Francis suddenly announced with an almost-grin, breaking the silence. Whatever the surprise was, he looked rather pleased with himself, although he still looked a little nervous. A few weeks ago, Mary had never even thought that Francis could get nervous. She could get used to seeing him like this, she realised.
"A surprise?" Mary asked him with a raised eyebrow.
Francis nodded. "I thought we could take a train to Paris, instead of taking the cars all the way?"
In spite of the awkwardness of the moment, Mary couldn't help feeling happy about this suggestion. She got bored sometimes, of having to travel everywhere in royal cars with only the guards and a police escort for company. There were times when she'd longed to take trains around Scotland by herself, to take in the beautiful Scottish countryside from the train's window.
"That would be perfect," she told Francis with a polite nod, before they were interrupted by a few photographers, who wanted to take a picture of them standing outside the castle.
There were cars waiting to take them to the train station. Mary opened one of the doors and climbed into the back seat, with Francis not too far behind her.
Eventually, after a minor tantrum from Charles, and his repeated insistence that he wanted to travel to the station with them, Mary and Francis got into the waiting cars, and they were soon joined by Francis's younger brother, as well as Charles's friend-the little girl with blonde hair who was apparently the daughter of a friend of Catherine's, who had been spending a couple of weeks at the castle with her family.
Mary and Francis sat opposite Charles and the little girl in the car.
Francis was quiet as the cars started their journey out of the castle grounds. Mary felt a little tense as yet another awkward silence passed between them. Francis looked nervous again, guarded…More than that, he looked like he was lost in thought, or like he was trying to make a decision about something.
To make matters even more awkward, Charles suddenly reached out his hand to the little girl who was sitting next to him. The little girl giggled and reached out her left hand towards him.
Soon, the two children were sitting holding hands.
Francis seemed to look more nervous than ever when he looked at the children's joined hands-Mary wondered if the gesture made him feel under pressure to hold her hand.
Quickly, Francis looked away from them all and turned to look out of the window.
When Mary caught Charles's eye, he grinned at her, a playful expression on his face.
Mary couldn't help grinning back at him-Charles knew exactly what he was doing; he knew, somehow, that Francis was nervous around Mary, and he was being the typical little brother, trying to embarrass his big brother.
When they arrived at the tiny train station in the French countryside, Mary noticed, to her surprise, that a large, old-fashioned steam train was waiting to take them to the capital city.
She had to cover up a gasp of delight. She might have expected the train to be slightly more luxurious than a typical train, given Francis's status as a royal, but nothing could have prepared her for this.
The train was like something out of Mary's favourite classic novels-like some kind of preserved relic from the past. She wondered if Francis had hired the train for the day…for her. She felt a strange thrill at the thought of it.
"Do you like it?" Francis asked her in a whisper. It seemed he didn't want their conversation to be overheard by the camera crew and photographers who had gathered on the platform.
"I love it," Mary replied to him in a whisper. And she meant it.
It was worth it to see the smile on Francis's face at her response.
Mary and Francis had agreed that the camera crew could have limited access to their trip today. This limited access involved the two of them posing for several photographs as they boarded the train. But still, in spite of the not-so-welcome presence of the cameras, Mary still noticed that the interior of the train was just as beautiful as the outside-the carriages were full of dark-wood tables and comfortable-looking red leather seats, with a red carpet rolled out down the middle of each carriage, partially covering the original blue carpet.
Mary and Francis took their seats opposite one another, with only a table between them, trying to ignore the camera crew and various members of staff who had taken their seats in the same carriage.
As the train pulled out of the station, afternoon tea was brought out to them on a silver tray.
Mary was impressed by the fancy cups of tea and the delicious-looking sandwiches and scones.
Discreetly, she took a picture of the food and drink. Then, after thinking about it for a couple of moments, she sent the picture to Greer, Lola and Kenna.
Greer and Lola seemed happy to receive a photo, the two of them quickly sending replies, asking her how she was enjoying the visit to France so far. Only Kenna seemed less than impressed: Forget about the food, Mary! she sent as her reply. Take more pictures with Francis!
Mary had to cover up her laughter at Kenna's response. She felt strangely content at the girls' responses. It was nice, to pretend to be a normal teenager for a while.
As Mary and Francis took sips from their cups of tea, Francis asked Mary about a few of the books she'd read recently.
Mary was only too happy to talk about a more light-hearted topic.
Mary wasn't sure what surprised her the most-the fact that Francis seemed to enjoy most of the same books as she did, or the fact that the conversation was flowing easily between them, now that they had found something to talk about and there were no cameras pointing right at them.
It was only a little later in the journey, when another silence passed between them, that all of Mary's troubled thoughts seemed to take over her mind again.
As the French countryside rolled past the windows, Mary's memories of her conversation with the king whirled around in her mind.
She thought about all the dirt he had on Scotland, all the threats he had made. She thought about how he had told her that Francis was in love with her-she couldn't stop thinking about it.
Then she thought about James, and all the secrets that he had kept from her.
She thought about Catherine, and how she had photos of Mary and Bash that she could use against her at any moment.
She thought about Bash, and all his secrets.
She thought about Narcisse, and all his scheming.
She thought about her mother, sick, preparing to hand over the crown to James.
She thought about Conde, with his home in London, walking towards her in the corridor. "Who has the key to your heart?" he had asked her…
"Mary?"
Mary jumped a little at the sound of Francis's voice. She had been so lost in her worries that she had almost forgotten where she was.
Almost reluctantly, she turned away from the window.
"Are you all right?" Francis asked her, with a concerned-looking expression on his face.
Mary nodded, trying to look convincing.
Apparently, Francis could see through the act. "Did you talk with my father?" he asked her. "You don't have to answer," he added quickly, his tone of voice soft, reassuring.
Again, Mary nodded. She was sure that a look of despair was written all over her face, because Francis frowned. He lifted his hands a little, as though half-considering reaching out to comfort her, but then he seemed to think better of it.
After a few moments of careful consideration, Mary decided that it would be better to be honest-about some of the conversation, anyway. "It is as I thought," she told Francis, "and at the same time, much worse."
"Mary, what is it?" Francis asked her in barely more than a whisper.
"He is using my whereabouts on the night of the attack as blackmail material," she replied, trying to suppress a shudder as she thought about that night. "As well as my country's desperate need for money and security."
A pained expression seemed to cross Francis's face.
At the very least, Mary was reassured by the fact that he seemed disgusted by his father's motives.
"It is more than that," she continued, her heart beating fast, "he has discovered…secrets about my brother that he can also use to threaten Scotland."
A look of surprise, then shock, then concern crossed Francis's face.
Mary could understand Francis's surprise at this news-she too had thought that James always behaved perfectly. How easy it was to be wrong about people!
Mary knew that she was taking another great risk in revealing this news about her brother to a French royal, but she felt like Francis deserved to know the full truth about his father's behaviour. "James is a future king, Francis," Mary explained to him, needlessly, "we cannot afford anything negative to be revealed about him so close to a coronation…"
"Mary, I'm so sorry," said Francis.
Mary had the distinct impression that Francis had wanted to say those words for a while.
"I knew about the first part of his…blackmail," he said, "but I had no idea about the second part. I thought that by agreeing to take part in the show, I could protect you…"
Mary nodded, not really sure what to say in response. A part of her was grateful that Francis was being more honest with her, and trying in his own way to protect her, but another part of her wasn't convinced that either of them could ever be safe from the king's scheming.
"Last night," Francis went on, a rare look of vulnerability on his face now; a look that almost made Mary want to move forward in her seat, "I couldn't sleep-I was thinking that you would leave, after my father revealed a few unpleasant truths to you-"
"You were afraid that I would leave?" Mary asked him with a raised eyebrow. She couldn't help feeling rather flattered that he was concerned about her leaving.
"I didn't say 'afraid'," Francis cut in quickly, an almost-pout on his face at Mary's choice of phrasing. It seemed that future kings did not like to appear to be afraid of anything.
Mary couldn't help it-in spite of everything, she smiled. "Of course not," she whispered, mockingly. It was like they were children again, teasing each other.
Francis smiled back at her, but he still looked a little worried.
"Any yet I'm still here," said Mary. She almost couldn't believe it herself.
"And yet you're still here," Francis repeated, a look of what could be amazement on his face.
They lapsed into silence again, but this time, the silence was a more comfortable one.
Less than an hour later, the train arrived at the station in Paris.
They were ushered off the train and into a waiting car by various security guards.
As she got into the car, Mary saw that the sun was bright in the sky. She couldn't help smiling. She was here, in Paris, on a sunny day, with Francis. They were 'off-duty' today-they didn't have to follow royal protocol, if they didn't want to. Were they on a date? Mary wasn't sure.
In no time at all, the car took them to their first location. Mary had spoken a little to Francis about the places she wished to visit in Paris, and Francis had planned out their day in advance with his staff and security team.
She might have mentioned the places she wanted to visit, but it still felt new and surprising to Mary when they arrived at the Louvre. She imagined that this is how tourists would feel on their first visit to the city.
They walked around the gallery together, taking in the priceless paintings as their security teams trailed behind them.
Francis talked enthusiastically about the paintings and portraits, pointing out a few of his favourites to Mary, and telling her random facts and dates. He looked and sounded confident now, almost as though he were speaking to a large audience. He could stand tall, recite information, project his voice. He would make a great leader, Mary thought to herself.
As Francis started to tell her stories about his visits to the gallery during his childhood, Mary watched him in amazement, stunned into silence by the fact that Francis was talking so openly, and happily, as though they had been friends for years. Mary wondered, not for the first time, if Francis felt like he could show more of his true self when he was away from the castle.
"I'm sorry, I'm boring you," said Francis with an apologetic shrug. He actually looked a little embarrassed.
Mary looked at him, a little surprised that he had interpreted her silence for boredom.
"Not at all," Mary told him with a grin. She wasn't yet ready to admit that her 'boredom' had really been interest.
They continued to walk close to one another as they headed outside into the Louvre's grounds. They had allowed this part of the visit to be photographed, and the two of them spent a little while posing for photographs next to the glass pyramids.
She followed the photographer's directions, moving closer to Francis when she was instructed to do so. It didn't feel quite as awkward as it used to.
As she stood in silence, Mary tried her best to appreciate the beauty of her surroundings, and she tried not to let her thoughts run away with her. For a moment, she wondered whereabout in the city Conde's Parisian apartment was located, and if he liked spending so much time in the city, but she was quickly distracted from these thoughts when Francis put his arm around her for another photograph.
After their visit to the Louvre, the two of them were driven the short distance to the Jardin des Tuileries, where Mary knew that they would have a little time to themselves, as their staff had promised to keep their distance.
They strolled around the grounds, passing several trees and a statue, and pausing to look at the ferris wheel in the distance.
After about twenty minutes, Mary stopped underneath one of the larger trees.
"Are you all right?" Francis asked her, looking concerned.
Mary nodded. "Sit with me?" she asked Francis. If he asked, she would tell him that she wanted to take a break from all of the members of the security staff who were walking around the outskirts of the park, but there was a little more to it than that-being here, in a park, walking under the trees, it was bringing some kind of memory back for Mary-a moment shared with Francis when they were younger. And yet she still couldn't quite retrieve it in her mind. She was hoping that she might get closer to discovering the full memory if she sat here with Francis for a little while.
Francis nodded. He moved to sit next to her under the tree, and they sat in silence for a few moments.
"Do you remember all the time we spent together in the gardens when we were children?" Mary asked him.
"Of course," Francis replied with a smile. He looked truly happy, as though the memories were fond ones.
They fell into a conversation about their time spent together at the castle as children, gently mocking each other, each claiming that the other had played the worst practical jokes or said the most insulting comments. Mary couldn't help feeling a little sad-for the first time in what was probably a long time, she wished that their families had not become mixed up in rivalries and feuds; she wished that she'd had the opportunity to talk with Francis more over the years-perhaps things would not have been so awkward when they were reunited for the matchmaking show.
By the time they stood up again to continue walking around the park, Mary still could not recall the memory that was hiding in the back in the back of her mind. However, she was certain that the time spent reminiscing with Francis had been time well spent.
Mary was almost reluctant to leave the park, but it was worth it when they were driven to a little coffee shop just on the edge of the Champs Elysees, where they were allowed to stop for lunch. The two of them sat outside at a table for two, wearing hats and sunglasses in an attempt at a disguise.
Every now and again, Mary noticed a member of the Security Team walking past the table, and across from them on the other side of the street, but apart from that, they were mostly left alone to enjoy their lunch and then to eat cake, talking in low voices and people-watching. The people around them seemed to have no idea that they were sitting next to royalty.
Francis seemed to be making an effort to make conversation today. He asked her about Greer, and how things were going after her wedding, which led to a conversation about Greer and Aloysius, and how they had met. Then they started talking about Greer's ex-boyfriend, Leith, as it turned out that he and Francis had been friends, when they'd been at school in London. Sometimes, it felt like all the people in her and Francis's lives overlapped in some way or another.
With each passing minute, Mary felt more relaxed, more free. There was something pleasant about being here, sitting outside a Parisian café, just like a tourist, dressed in casual clothes and enjoying the sunshine. She liked being here with Francis Valois, she realised.
She wondered if she and Francis would ever have had the opportunity to visit this city together if their lives hadn't been thrown together due to their royal statuses.
They fell into reminiscing about their school days in London, and Francis mentioned something about the hours he had spent walking around the city.
Before the trip, Mary had worried that Francis would be serious and silent throughout the visit, but now it felt easy to make conversation with him; he didn't seem to take himself too seriously when he was off duty. Francis was so much more relaxed and open when he was away from castles and royal families, Mary realised.
"Where did you go, when you used to walk around the city by yourself?" Mary suddenly asked him without thinking about it.
She tried not to blush, worrying that Francis might work out that she had on several occasions tried to follow him around London.
Francis, however, looked very solemn and serious. "Everywhere. Nowhere," he responded with a sigh.
Mary watched him curiously, wondering if there was more to it than that.
They were interrupted by the arrival of a waiter, who brought more coffee over to their table.
The moment the waiter left, Francis spoke again, sounding more hesitant this time: "There was a girl there, in London. Sometimes, when I was walking around the city, I was trying to work up the courage to talk to her…"
At Francis's words, and his obvious blush, Mary felt a stab of something that had to be jealousy. Who was the girl? Did Mary know her? Did Francis still think about her? Why did she care so much?
Francis was looking at her like he expected her to say something, but Mary wasn't sure that she would be able to say anything wise right now.
They fell into silence again as they finished their coffees.
They spent the afternoon strolling around the shops on the Champs Elysees. Francis made a big show of rolling his eyes whenever Mary wanted him to stop and look in several of the shops that were selling women's designer clothes, but Mary knew from his smirks that he was only playing along, teasing her.
Then Mary had her turn to pretend to sigh and roll her eyes when Francis took her to some of the fancy shops selling designer suits for men.
Mary had to admit however, that Francis looked very handsome as he tried on a couple of expensive shirts.
After they had finished shopping (and Mary had purchased several gifts from tourist shops to take home to her friends), they ended up standing opposite the Arc de Triomphe.
Mary took out her phone, taking several pictures of the landmark, so that she could show them to her family.
"Can I take a picture with you?" Mary asked Francis after a few moments' consideration.
"You don't have to ask permission," Francis told her, laughter in his voice.
Mary felt a little embarrassed-she knew that she sounded like any other young girl who was asking for a selfie with a famous prince.
She rolled her eyes at Francis, but then she stood next to him, Francis holding her phone up to take the picture of the two of them together, with the Arc de Triomphe in the background.
For a moment, Mary felt like any other young woman who was on a city break with her boyfriend.
Discreetly, she sent the picture to Kenna, deciding that this was the kind of photo that she would prefer to see. She smiled to herself when Kenna text her back almost immediately, with a lot of heart emojis in her response.
As the late afternoon turned into evening, Mary discovered that Francis had arranged another surprise.
They were booked in for a visit to the Eiffel Tower, and Francis's team had asked for the attraction to be closed for an hour so that they would have some privacy.
After Mary had quickly changed into slightly smarter clothes for the evening that had been provided for her by her stylists in one of the royal cars, Mary and Francis were escorted into the lifts by their security team, and within minutes, they were standing on one of the viewing decks, looking out over the city.
The stars were bright in the sky tonight, Mary noticed, and for now, everything felt peaceful.
After a little while, she looked to her left, where Francis was standing next to her, looking very serious again, like he was lost in troubled thoughts.
"What are you thinking about?" Mary asked him. She hoped that their agreement to be honest with each other still stood.
Francis remained quiet, and Mary was worried that he would not answer her rather personal question, but finally, he spoke: "Mary, I was thinking about how it will not always be possible to do things like this once I am king…"
"Duty comes first," Mary replied automatically. She had heard all of this before from her brother.
Unsurprisingly, Francis nodded.
Mary sighed to herself. This would be the reality, if she chose Francis in the end. He could arrange elaborate weekends in Paris now and again, but they could not just choose to leave the castle and spend time together whenever they wanted. Royal duty would have to come first. Francis had already accepted that. He was telling her now, being as honest as he could, that this would always be the case.
And, what would happen, if 'royal duty' advised Francis against marrying her, in the end?
"Mary?" Francis broke Mary's sombre thoughts with a whisper. "For the first time ever, I find myself wishing that I did not have any royal duties at all…"
"Oh," said Mary.
She wasn't really sure what to make of that answer; she wasn't sure what Francis meant by those words.
She went back to looking out at the city, thinking about how strange it was that she was standing with Francis in Paris, under the stars.
She wasn't sure if either of them had moved, but it felt as though they were standing a little closer to one another than they had been a couple of minutes ago.
At nightfall, the two of them ended up in an old-fashioned restaurant that was located not too far from the Eiffel Tower.
Mary sat back in her seat, dressed in an elegant black dress now, taking in the scene around her.
The tables were decorated with fancy tablecloths and silverware, a candle placed on each one. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, and an ornate piano was positioned in the right-hand corner of the room. A pianist sat at the piano stool, playing slow, romantic songs on the keys.
A few elderly couples stood together on the polished wooden dancefloor, slow dancing to the music.
Mary took a few careful sips of her hot chocolate, after having declined various fancy cups of tea that had been offered to her.
For a little while, she made conversation with Francis about the upcoming journey home, thanking him again for a nice day, but although Francis responded politely, he was a little quiet again, as though his thoughts were somewhere else.
Mary was starting to feel a little nervous about Francis's silence, but suddenly he smiled, and Mary felt calm again.
"Mary," he asked her, his tone of voice more relaxed, informal, "would you do me the honour of dancing with me?" With that, he nodded in the direction of the dancefloor, before pausing to wait for her response.
Mary tried not to widen her eyes in shock. She couldn't believe it. Francis was asking her to dance with him. And here of all places-somewhere so private, so informal; somewhere so far away from official royal dances.
She remembered their conversation last night, when she'd asked him why he didn't dance with her; how she'd told him that he would never know if she wanted to dance with him if he didn't ask. He must have known, must have picked up on the fact that his apparent reluctance to dance with her meant something to her. And now he really was asking her, with nobody telling him that he had to do it, and not out of any sense of duty or decorum or diplomacy.
She realised that he was still waiting for her to say something.
"The honour would be mine," Mary answered with a smile, mocking the typical royal response as she held out a hand for Francis to lead her to the dancefloor.
With an amused-looking grin, he led her towards the dancefloor, and then they were standing among the elderly couples, all of whom seemed to have no idea who they both were.
It took them a few moments to get into position; to stand close together and to decide where their arms and hands were supposed to go.
As Francis placed a hand on Mary's waist, the two of them looked at each other and shared a laugh at the awkwardness of the moment. Mary couldn't get over the fact that they were standing here, in an old restaurant, amongst people much older than them, with so much history between them, attempting to dance with one another, in spite of everything.
Mary guessed that Francis was not completely comfortable with doing this, but it seemed he was making the effort, for her.
But then they were moving, slowly, in time to the soft, romantic music, with Francis gently leading the two of them; he seemed to be well-practiced at this whole dancing thing, Mary realised.
After a little while, the lights started to dim, and Mary got lost in the moment, standing close to Francis, moving slowly in time to the song being played on the piano. There was something comfortable about this, familiar, but also something new, scary, exhilarating. It was as though time stopped; as though they were in another world; as though it was just the two of them. Mary wasn't sure if she had ever felt like this before.
She looked right at Francis, and he was looking right at her. Something deep, hidden, secret seemed to pass between the two of them in that look. They moved a little closer to one another. Mary wasn't sure what was happening, but she wanted more of this moment…
"You two make a beautiful couple!"
They were interrupted by an elderly couple who had just waltzed past them. The woman, who a had a German accent, was looking at the two of them with a proud smile. She clearly had no idea who they were both were, but she seemed to find the sight of two young people dancing together adorable.
Francis simply smiled at the woman and nodded in acknowledgement, while Mary tried her best to smile at them as they waltzed away from them, although she still felt a little dazed.
She looked at Francis and the two of them smiled at each other. Whatever had happened, the moment had been lost. But still, it felt nice, when Francis pulled her in close again; it was like the two of them were embracing.
Mary allowed Francis to hold her as she leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, allowing the music to carry her away to a magical place again.
She felt almost like her body was healing, resetting after the last time the two of them had stood so close together on a dancefloor. Back then, the night had ended in disaster. But tonight, as Francis held her in the darkened room, the two of them temporarily free from their usual distractions, it felt like the two of them fit together perfectly.
By the time they arrived at the train station, a large crowd had gathered on the platform.
Mary sighed. It seemed that word had got out that a prince and a princess were visiting the city.
The presence of the large crowd meant that their walk across the platform and to the train was not as relaxing as Mary would have hoped.
They were escorted down the platform with various security guards pressed up close to them, protecting them.
Finally, Mary was standing by one of the open carriage doors, ready to board the train.
"Queen Mary?"
Mary stopped, blinked a few times in shock; it took her a few moments to work out that it was her who was being addressed. It felt very strange, to be addressed as a queen.
Slowly, she turned around.
Two children had pushed their way to the front of the crowd on the platform. A little boy and a little girl were looking up at her expectantly, holding out a bunch of white flowers for her.
Apparently, they were somehow under the impression that Mary was already a queen.
After a quick security check from her guards, Mary was able to accept the flowers from the children.
"Thank you," she told them with a smile.
The children bowed to her and disappeared among the crowd.
Still in a daze, Mary boarded the train.
She held the flowers tightly in her hands as she sat down slowly in her seat, and Francis sat down opposite her.
Suddenly, the events of the day played out clearly in her mind, overwhelming her…
She thought about all the places they'd visited in the city, all the conversations they'd had. She thought about her slow-dance with Francis-a dance that she had never thought she would have. She thought about the elderly couple on the dancefloor, who had assumed that she and Francis were a couple. Then she thought about the children, holding the flowers with the white petals…
As Mary thought about the two children, a tear started to fall slowly down her cheek.
Francis was watching her, a worried look on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked her in a whisper, no doubt trying to avoid attracting the attention of the other people who were travelling with them on the train.
Mary nodded. I will be okay, she thought to herself. For the first time in a long time, she could believe it.
She noticed that Francis had moved his hand ever-so-slightly closer to hers, as though silently debating again whether he should offer comfort.
This time, Mary reached out and closed the gap between them.
Francis simply allowed her to take his hand in hers. He didn't ask her anymore questions; he just held her hand as a few more tears fell.
As the train made its journey back towards the castle, the two of them continued to hold hands.