The summer has been, so far, a summer of growth. It has been uncomfortable, messy, and full of all sorts of feelings Charles and Mary weren't expecting. But as both Lady Flora and Doctor Pearce say it's necessary. It's been a time for not only growth, but also one of awareness, progress, and healing.
Both Brandons are growing together, but coming into themselves as individuals. The whole trauma experience, with the northern rebellion, has made them realize something. Like a caterpillar inside a cocoon, metamorphosing, they have been doing the same. They've been changing all along. They've been feeling it for a while now, but not really knowing what it was. This sense of awakening has been dawning on them since before the rebellion even started.
There's this gentle simmering that's been sitting there, brewing stronger and stronger. Until it decided to wake them up. They realize they aren't the same people they used to be, Charles especially. The things he used to tolerate are becoming intolerable. For Mary, she's remained quiet for far too long now. Silent about things that bother her really bothers her. They're both beginning to be aware of the value and the power of their voice.
They're able to do good for their own people of Wales and Suffolk. They want to be able to do so for the kingdom at large. But they can't. Their time is not yet come. Will it ever? If the King has a son, his heir, then they may never have the opportunity to do so. Because the son will follow the same practices as the father. And where Mary also has the same father, her eyes have been opened. Ruling in Wales and Suffolk have taught both Brandon's a lot of things they may have never learned otherwise. However, the caveat to this is the fact they are ruling together.
If they weren't married, then life could look a whole lot different. They understand their time, energy, and focus are valuable. They no longer need to give some situations their attention like: getting drunk, talking to certain people, getting carried away in trivial pursuits in council meetings, and the general gossip of the peahens of the Royal Court. That's the true mark of maturity— learning when to walk away from particular people and situations that threaten peace, morals, respect, values, and self-worth. Once the eyes are open there's no closing them back, unless ignorance is the goal.
And so the Prince and Princess of Wales and Suffolk bide their time. Continuing to strengthen and grow themselves, their marriage, their provinces, and their support. One such opportunity for allies came with the King of France, Francis I, and the Doge of Genoa in Italy, Battista Lomellini. An envoy of both His Majesty's is being sent to England. In July delegations from both countries will land upon them.
All of the royal family members and high-ranking nobles of the court will attend. They will be at the welcome banquet and ball to greet the royal envoys. From France will come Princess Madeleine and Prince Charles (which is an area of strangeness for the Prince of Wales because that's also his name— two Prince Charles in the same room will be odd indeed). Representing Genoa is Niccolo Lomellini, the Doge (or Duke) of Genoa's son as well as his brother Gioffredo.
In late June, Charles and Mary received an invitation from the King to return to the palace. Although it was more of a demand. "You must return to London at once, to help prepare for the arrival of the French and Genoan delegations." His Highness threw the letter in the fire and watched it burn.
His wife chuckled. They were both loathe to return to London, especially in the summer. The heat makes the stench of the city almost unbearable. Mary wanted her husband's opinion. "What do you think will be accomplished with this French and Genoan coalition?"
He's unsure, except maybe "Our children betrothed." He sat back down and laid his head in her lap.
Thinking this is most likely to be true, Mary gave him her opinion. "Hmm... Perhaps so. But I don't think any of King Francis's children have had children of their own yet. I don't necessarily want to marry our children off to France at present, especially Gillian. I don't want her to be the older one in the marriage. On the other hand, I heard the Doge has a son that was born a year ago. She could be betrothed to him. What are your thoughts?"
With a smile that lit up his face, Charles declared "I think I'm tired of thinking about this. Gillian is still a baby and I don't want to think about my baby daughter being married. Instead, let's talk about us."
Caution ran through Her Highness. "What do you want to talk about?" she questioned. Her fingers raked through his brown locks. Like a cat, her husband soaked up the attention. She hopes he isn't going to say he wants another child so soon after Gillian is born. The baby weight is still coming off much in part to him having her take daily walks around the orchard.
Sitting up, he told her "Stay here. I'll be back in a moment." His behavior is peculiar at present. He seems jumpy and when he gets jumpy there's something exciting stirring underneath.
Getting up, she went to peer out the library windows while he was away. Noting but blue skies and ocean for miles and miles. At the seaside life is lived differently. The time isn't linear, going by the hours of daylight. Instead, it's felt, it's a mood going moment by moment. She supposes this is because man is like the sea. One part stormy and one part calm.
He returned with a folder in hand. She loves how he uses his folders for everything. It keeps him organized. Upon going to sit beside him, he told her "I think we should have a fall festival." A paper was pulled out of the folder. "Look here. The finances of Wales have profited more in a year's time than ever before. I think we need to organize something to foster goodwill and fun amongst the people. A fall festival could be an enjoyable way to do so."
Looking at the financial document, she knew he is right. "I'm in agreement. What are your thoughts on this fall festival you speak of?"
"To be honest I'm not really sure yet. I have no thoughts at present other than it being fun. I was hoping you'd help me come up with something family-friendly," he mentioned. The financial paper went back into the folder.
She pointed out "Let's sit on this a few days and contemplate different ideas. Then we can discuss it further. In the meantime, we need to begin packing for London."
Disagreeing, he informed her "We don't have to pack right this very moment." He set the folder on a side table beside the arm of the sofa. Pulling her gently into him, his lips came down upon her own. They kissed their troubles away.
The next few days were spent packing for London. The family returned to Cardiff to assess the items they needed to take with them. Since this is a delegation of royal families, the Prince and Princess must look their finest. Well, to be clear, Her Highness wants to look her most respectable and supreme.
His Highness could care less and he told her so. "They're just doublets. They all look the same. No one cares." That was the wrong thing to say because she lit into him, about looking your best in all situations.
And then she explained "Your doublets do not all look the same. There are summer ones and winter ones. There are brocade, velvet, and leather. Plus now that you're a prince your tunics and coats are vastly different. There's more fancy embroidery and embellishments. Like your shirt with the gold lacework and frilly collars, or our coat of arms embroidered on your coat." To make her point, she held up his new black velvet one. It has golden embroidery around the bottom of the sleeve and gold buttons with golden stitching around them. He rolled his royal eyes at it and left the room.
As for herself, all manner of dresses (along with his doublets) were stowed safely in the trunks. Gorgeous jewelry and satin shoes were added last. This whole thing stresses her out, as she hasn't been in front of any foreign dignitaries in a long time. Years in fact.
So two days before they departed, she went to Lady Flora's taking Paisley along with her. She asked the Countess for help, who then decided to bring Mr. Harris into the conversation. Mr. Harris suggested that he needed to do a review with the two girls. Surprising them both, it started right then and there. "Let us remember," he began. "That manners are the outward expression of our inward character shining through."
Then he led them in assessing their curtsies which Mary's was passable, but Paisley's was terrible. While Mary moved on to proper handshakes and posture, Paisley became stuck at turning her ankles just so. She darn near burst into tears with him tapping his cane down in front of her, as a method of correction. Meanwhile the Princess has let her good habits slide after the birth of Gillian. Mr. Harris was unimpressed.
"Stop shlumping along Your Highness. Glide. Glide like an elegant swan," he ordered. This was before he had enough and made her walk up and down Lady Flora's stairs gracefully, with a book on top of her head. To her delight, the book only slipped once.
From there he examined proper sitting positions with them both. "No. No. No. Stop crossing your legs, Lady Paisley. Cross your ankles instead, as the Princess is doing. Crossing the legs is for an informal gathering only." He lightly tapped the cane on her knee and instantaneous tears began to pour out of the poor girl's eyes. To which he produced a handkerchief for the tender-hearted lady in waiting.
After that, Davina, Lady Flora's maid had set out formal place settings for them on the dining table. They reviewed posture at the table, finger bowls, and difficult foods. Immediately thinking the finger bowl was a cup, Paisley picked up the small dish (which had been filled with water) and drank from it. Oh, the horror it caused Mr. Harris! His face was red and disgusted. "Girl, no!" he all but yelled.
This made him launch into a fitful discussion. "Tis shameful. Did your parents not teach you dining etiquette? Dear heavens! If you do that in front of His Majesty the King, you will be thrown out of the dining room and never invited to dinner again. It will also shame Her Highness." This also made Paisley cry. But Mary sat there quiet because in truth she thought it was a cup too. Her parents, though they be the King and Queen, never went into this much detail over table settings and etiquette. Not even her governess did.
Picking up the bowl, he informed them "This is a bowl used to cleanse the fingers between courses. Once they are clean, then you wipe them neatly on the extra napkin, like so." He demonstrated by gently dipping all five fingertips, of a single hand, into the water at the same time. After which he dried them off on the napkin as discreetly as possible. Turning to the girls, he stated "Now it is your turn."
And so they practiced under the tutelage of Mr. Harris calling out every so often, "Discreetly girls. Discreetly!" Now when they had mastered the finger bowl, he moved on to tricky foods. "Since it is summer, lobster is in high season. You're in luck because our cook, Gibson, has prepared some for tonight's dinner." He rang a bell and Davina brought a platter of it for them. She set two plates of the cooked clawed creature in front of the girls.
Staring them down, Harris sniffed. "There is a particular knack for deshelling the lobster. First, you twist and pull off the front claws, breaking them into two pieces at the joint. Then crack open the large part and use the fork, not your fingers, to pull out the meat. I shall show you." He tried to show them but the claw had a hard time coming off. After straining with it, for several minutes, making Paisley snicker and Mary smile, it finally came to. The persnickety man huffed and continued showing them.
By the time the London departure arrived, the Princess and her lady in waiting were fresh on their etiquette. Their manners coach left them with a departing assignment. They are to list ten things they're presently thankful for and then use that as a stepping point into polite conversation. Because "Positive speech is the touchstone for anything. You can speak well if your tongue can deliver the message of the heart. Let your speech be better than silence," he directed.
So it was while passing the time on the ride, that Mary began making her list. With a small writing lap desk, she wrote in the carriage. Her husband's curious eyes regarded her. "What are you doing?"
Looking up from the task, she made known "I am using this time to complete the assignment from Mr. Harris. As you know, he reviewed different etiquette points with Paisley and me. He wants us to make a list of ten things we're thankful for. This is what I have so far. Feel free to help me think of anything else." She began listing off the different things.
Making it onto the list are her husband, children, household, friends, their provinces, being alive, and the splendor of the earth. Charles helped her with the last three. He had her add, good health, prosperity, and freedom. She wasn't sure what he meant by freedom until he let her know. "We take it for granted because we're the rulers of our region, but suppose we were two peasants. We wouldn't have as much freedom as we do now. Our taxes would seem higher, on what little money we make and we wouldn't know if we could afford bread." She thought that very deep and insightful.
With the list completed, she put the lap desk on the seat in front of them. Taking a peek at Gillian, in her Moses basket, the baby had snuggled into a sleeping position on her tummy where her fanny is up in the air. It's cute and funny. Her father hasn't seen the newest member of the family yet, and she hopes he will approve of their sweet, little, girl. But who knows? The King is so tumultuous in all his moods.
Sitting back on the seat, she rested her eyes. Charles told her to take a nap, while she can. So she did and fell asleep on his shoulder. The loveliest dream occurred. She was a beautiful princess and her husband was a handsome prince. They weren't married yet because there was a contest. A contest to see who was worthy of marrying her. He rode on a white horse and won every event of the contest. He had come to claim his prize, which was her hand in marriage. She stood up from her royal throne and made her way to him.
Then in a fit of cheek, her hand tugged at his and she dragged him away into a private room. She proceeded to kiss the daylights out of him. Just as they were about to do more, she felt something tickle her nose. Upon awaking she realized it was the feather of her quill. Her hand batted it away.
"It's about time you were up. But tell me, wife, what was with those sounds of longing you were making?" he asked her.
Sitting fully up, instead of leaning in his embrace, she decided to play confused. "What are you talking about?"
With a laugh, he put the quill back on the writing desk. "I'm talking about these sweet sounds leaving your sweet mouth. It's like the moans you make sometimes when I kiss you." He thought about it for a moment. "Did I kiss you in your dream? Was it someone else kissing you?" His eyes sought hers.
Oh, a wicked thought crossed her mind. "Yes. It was a lovely dream with lots of kissing involved. Edward Seymour has the most luscious lips. I never thought about it before." She smiled to herself and turned her head to look out the carriage window.
Placing his hand on her arm, he bid her look at him. "Edward Seymour? Him? That's who you were dreaming of?" To say he's upset is an understatement. Well, he was until he saw the smirk on her lips and the laughter ring out of her mouth. "You teased me didn't you?"
She kissed his cheek. "Of course I did. How could resist? You're the only man I dream about. It was you I was kissing in my sleep."
Brushing her hair off her shoulder, he told her "I think we need to do something about that. Kissing me awake is always more fun." And so the remainder of the trip, which wasn't very long, was spent with the two of them kissing. In fact, it had begun to get a little breathless when she moved to sit on his lap. His hand caressed her calf muscle under her dress and she kissed that place on his neck- the place that undoes him every time.
When the carriage arrived at Greenwich Palace, they were panting. Plus their lips had that just been kissed look about them. But they didn't care, because their smiles were for them alone coupled with the blissful, dreamy looks on their faces. It's obvious to anyone they're still very much in love with each other. Theirs is the kind of love that isn't going to up and vanish one day either. Their love is here to stay because it's solid.
Upon exiting the carriage, Charles stretched his arms. His eyes beheld the palace. He's seen it hundreds of times, but at that moment it seemed to look like the King's Manor in York. Mary, who had placed her hand on his arm, felt and saw him stiffen. She point-blank asked, "What's wrong?"
His eyes closed and he concentrated on breathing deeply, as Doctor Pearce suggested. After several calming breaths, his heart rate almost returned to normal. Then he told his wife about it. "The palace sent a trigger through me. I saw it looking like King's Manor up north. It brought back feelings."
She placed her hand on his cheek. He leaned into it. "You are so strong and brave. You're also resilient and more powerful than all your fears. I love you Charles and I'm here, right beside you."
And he loved her all the more for that. It was her confidence and confirmation that gave him the courage to walk head held high, beside her, carrying their new baby girl. It was his baby girl that beamed at him and also put her little hand on his cheek, in the same way, her mother did only moments earlier. He smiled back at her too. With his support system in place, the Brandons were ready to meet the royal delegation.