Chapter 9: First meetings (II)
Brighton, England. July 7th, 1815.
"Bloody hell," Henry murmured under his breath when he saw the terrace was empty and the Prince nowhere to be seen. "I am going to kill him."
"I believe that is called a regicide, my lord," Rowena Talbot said, standing still next to the Earl.
"Pardon my French, Miss Talbot," Henry replied, forcing a smile. "You do have a sense of humor, though." He paused. "Please just wait here a moment." He directed her just inside the hall, where she wouldn't see the terrace. Rowena nodded and sat on a settee against the wall, her back straight and her gloved hands in her lap. Henry went outside. "James?" he called out, but not too loudly so the lady inside wouldn't think he had actually lost the prince. "James! Oh, for bloody sake," he gritted between his teeth.
"I am right here, Henry," James said in an even voice. Henry followed his friend's voice, and sure enough, he was just around the corner, on the other side of the terrace, away from view. "You thought I had run?" he asked with a sly half-smile.
Henry shot him the most murderous glare. "What, pray tell, are you doing here?" he asked, ignoring his jest.
"Taking a moment to gather my thoughts and breathe." He paused. "What if I had wanted to relieve myself? Am I to be your prisoner until I find a new wife, then?"
"No," Henry conceded. "But you cannot simply walk away in the middle of the meetings! There will be enough time afterward for you to gather your thoughts. Grow up, Jamie." Henry frowned and for once, he had been using his stern voice. James had not heard it in a long time, always used to Henry being the ever-positive, happy-going, bon-vivant man who took everything lightly. But not this time and he was done playing games of cat-and-mouse with him.
James sighed and took off his top hat to rub his forehead; it was becoming increasingly hot, despite the morning freshness. "How many more ladies?" he asked.
"A dozen." He paused. "More or less."
James nodded and headed back to the plush couch waiting for him and served himself a glass of lemonade. A minute later, Henry came back outside with the lady waiting inside.
"Your Highness," he said, coming back to more a formal address, "this is Miss Rowena Talbot."
"My lord," she said, curtsying. She was wearing a green silk dress, making her pale porcelain skin even more porcelain-like. She was rather petite in stature but carried herself with assurance.
"Miss Talbot," James said, inviting the young woman to sit on the other chair. A footman offered her some tea and she gladly accepted the cup, adding a spoonful of sugar to it. He checked his list of questions. "Miss Talbot," he started. "Would you please tell me what you like most to do in your free time?"
"Of course," she replied, sitting up straighter. "I especially enjoy gardening and tending to flowers." She paused. "I know this may not seem royal an activity, but it is very calming and changes one's perspective on life."
James nodded. "I see." Marianne also loved tending to her roses. "I do understand how such an activity would help ease the mind, Miss Talbot. And between you and me, I do not think there are more or less royal activities to partake in."
Rowen perked up at that. "What is something you like to do to clear your mind, Your Highness?" she asked.
James played a moment with his lemonade glass, making the lemon slice in it gently swish left and right. "I draw," he replied.
"With colors?" she asked, curious.
"No, just charcoal."
They were both silent for a moment, enjoying their beverages and considering each other's favorite pastime. For some reason, James felt comfortable talking with Rowena, but he did not really understand why, as if he had already met her at some point, earlier in his life, and this was meeting again after several years.
Henry took the pause in their conversation as his cue to escort the lady back inside, and come back with the next one on their list, which was a short lady with auburn curls down her back with the front pieces pinned up not too tightly just to keep them away from her face. She also had a galaxy of freckles over the bridge of her nose and cheeks. She was wearing a plain dress made of brick-red silk with no jewelry at all except a thin necklace with an emerald.
"Lady Aislin Godfrey, Your Highness," Henry said, introducing her to James.
"It is an honor to meet you, my lord," she said while curtsying.
"Thank you," James replied. "Please, do sit." She obeyed and James cast a quick glance at the questions on the list. Henry was still chaperoning and he didn't want to upset him further since he had spent quite some time preparing these for him. "Would you be so kind as to tell me a little about your family, Lady Godfrey?"
That question seemed to unsettle her quite a bit.
"I am sorry," James said. "We can talk about something else if you wish."
"No, it is alright," Aislin replied with an Irish accent that was not too thick to understand her, straightening the smile on her face. "It is only fair you know about the families of the ladies you will potentially marry." James nodded, not at all happy about that reminder. "My father is Baron Cormac Godfrey from Dublin, in Ireland. My mother passed away when I was a child, and so did my older brother when I was sixteen. My older sister married a commoner but my father did not approve of the match, he does not speak to her anymore."
That was a lot of information at once and James frowned. "That makes you the only child left, then," he said. "Your father will want you to find a good match."
"Yes, my lord," she said, looking away. "My father submitted my name for the Selection."
"I see." James thought quickly and cast a quick glance toward Henry who was not going to like what he was about to say, so he lowered his voice. "I will not hold you here against your wishes, Lady Godfrey. If you wish to leave at any given time, you may tell me so."
Aislin nodded. "Thank you, my lord. But I have come to terms with my presence here, and I wish to stay if you will let me."
"Of course," James said. He handed her the bowl of berries and Aislin picked a nice, red, juicy strawberry.
"Those are my favorites," she said softly, biting in the berry.
James smiled. "I am rather fond of strawberries, myself."
Henry waited for the lady to finish eating before escorting her back inside. James wasn't sure if he had heard what he had said to the lady, but in any case, Henry did not comment on it.
James only had a couple of minutes to breathe and eat a cookie before Henry came back with yet another lady. A dark brown-haired woman walked in, dressed in a dark blue dress with few embellishments except for the sleeves and the collar that were lined with a thin ribbon of white lace.
"Lady Frederika Vaughan, Dowager Countess of Hailey, sir," Henry said.
James looked up, intrigued by the title she held: it meant she had been married and was now widowed. That was a first in the line of ladies he had met so far.
"A pleasure, your Highness," Frederika said, curtsying.
"Likewise," James answered. He invited her to sit down and offered her a cup of tea that she accepted with grace. Her manners so far were excellent. They had to, as she was a countess. "You've been married before," James stated.
"Yes," she said as a shadow passed in her eyes. "And just like you, I lost my husband." She paused. "And my child."
A breath caught in James' throat. "I am dreadfully sorry," he said. "I should not have–"
"Your Highness," Lady Vaughan said. "It is perfectly normal for you to ask: you have a right to know us."
James nodded. "And you are here to marry again, then…"
"No."
"No? Then why are you here, if I may ask?" He was intrigued even more, to say the least. What was a widowed countess doing in his Selection if not to get married again? And even to a higher rank than previously?
"I am not certain you want to hear the reason, my lord."
A tiny half-smile lifted the left corner of his lips. "You would not even believe my reasons to be here as well," he said. "Try me."
Frederika tilted her head and matched his small smile. She put her cup of tea on the table in front of her and sat up straighter. "Let us make a deal, then," she offered. "I tell you my reason, and you tell me yours."
"You have yourself a deal, Lady Vaughan."
"I am hoping to reintroduce myself into society. My period of mourning is over." She paused, looking at the gardens. "It has been three years, already…"
James nodded. He had lost Marianne four years ago, and it was still fresh in his mind. How she could let go of the past already meant that she was stronger than him. Yet, he admired her courage. "I see." He paused. "Well, then, a deal is a deal, I suppose." James sipped on his lemonade. "His Majesty the King, my father, has forced me into this nonsense Selection, as they call it. He wants me to have a male heir. Because I did not have a choice since I learned of it in the newspapers at the same time as everyone else, I asked Henry Windsor to oversee it. And he was more than happy to oblige."
"Of course, he would," Frederika said. "Anything to gossip about later on."
James raised an eyebrow. "You know the Earl?"
"My late husband was acquainted with him, yes, so I did meet him a few times, once upon a time."
"I see…" James sipped his lemonade again, keeping an eye on the lady in the blue dress in front of him, the one who was much stronger and braver than him. "Might I offer you another deal, then?" he asked.
"Of course."
"I am going to need an ally in the coming weeks," he said. "If you are not here to marry and I am not looking for a love match, then maybe we could help each other out?"
"How so?" Lady Vaughan asked, intrigued.
"You help me find someone suitable for my daughter, keep your eyes and ears open for me, and in return, I shall make sure your former place in society is untouched." James crossed his legs and leaned back on the couch, waiting.
"Alright," she said, holding out her hand to shake his. "You have yourself a deal, Your Highness." And with that, she stood, curtsied, and left the terrace, walking past Henry with a small nod. Henry walked toward James and shook his head.
"You are impossible, you do know that, right?"
The prince offered him a smile. "You thought I was going to let you and my father dictate my life from this point on? The game is on, Henry."
"You asked me to do this for you, James," Henry said. "You cannot blame me for this."
"I do not blame you, Henry." He held up a plate of cookies for his best friends, knowing well enough that he could bribe him with any sweet food. "I simply want my father to understand that he does not control me and that I will do what I please despite his efforts to have me married again." He paused. "He wishes me married? Fine. But it will be on my own terms. But you should be on my side rather than his, my friend."
Henry grinned, taking a cookie from the plate. "Now that is the spirit, my friend. Let me bring the next lady for you to meet."
As soon as Henry was gone, James let out a breath. What had he done? Asking the countess to be his ally? Was this all a mistake in the first place? He intended to keep his end of the bargain, but he was not sure she would be useful in the long run. Would she even help him find a suitable mother for Ellie? Let alone a wife? Many people were content without a love match. Could he?
"Your Highness?" Henry said, coming in with the next lady. "This is Miss Cerys Tudor."
James almost choked on his lemonade but caught himself just in time. What in the name of God was this? He could not even decide if she was pretty or not for all his attention was directed to her outrageous choice of outfit: a beige pair of trousers with three buttons on each side, revealing long legs ending in shiny black riding boots, as well as a men's shirt with a dark blue riding jacket and an off-white cravat. And she was even wearing a top hat! James stayed seated as Cerys Tudor bowed like a gentleman instead of the usual more feminine curtesy.
"Your Highness," she said. "It is an honor."
"Of course," he said, absently. "Do you always dress like this, Miss Tudor?" he asked, disdain dripping from his voice.
"Most of the time," Cerys answered, sitting down without being invited to. She also helped herself to a cookie on the table. But from James' demeanor, she could clearly tell he was not happy about her answer. "Do not worry, my lord," she added. "I do wear dresses as well."
"I am fairly certain Lady Valery did not condone this outfit."
"No, as a matter of fact, she did not." Cerys smiled. "But I was hoping you would be more open-minded, sir."
James snorted. "And what, pray tell, would make you say such a thing?"
Cerys shrugged with only one shoulder. "You simply seemed like one to be more open-minded, especially since you fell in love with a farmer's girl. I was hoping you would be different." She stood to leave.
"Wait," James said, and Cerys sat back down with a somewhat victorious smile on her face. "You are correct, I did fall in love with a woman who was different from all the others I had met during the Season." She was ice-skating, doing a man's sport! He looked away, realizing that he had become a completely different person. Ten years ago, he would have praised her for wearing whatever outfit she desired. What had changed him so? "I can imagine a suit would be more comfortable than a dress for certain activities, yes?"
"Oh, you have no idea." She smirked and nibbled on a cookie. "What about you, my lord? Do you not wear clothes appropriate for certain activities? Horseback riding, for instance? Or ballroom dancing?"
"Of course. But as men, there are not so many differences in our outfits, I would say."
"Maybe," Cerys conceded. "But for us, it does make a great difference. Try wearing a dress to ride a horse!"
James nodded – he could not even start to imagine such a thing – and he sipped on his lemonade, which Henry took it as his cue to escort the lady out and bring in the next one, leaving the prince just enough time to finish his glass before she arrived. She was strikingly beautiful, although quite petite in stature, with long wavy red hair and blue eyes, as well as freckles splattered all over her face. The first word that came to his mind was Scotland. It was most certainly the cliché-ist thought to have, but it just popped into his head and was gone just as fast.
"May I introduce Lady Yvaine McIntyre, sir," Henry said. "From Scotland, of course."
James bowed his head as the lady in question curtsied to him. "Your Royal Highness."
The prince invited her to sit and motioned to the footman to pour them both a cup of tea. "Lady Yvaine," he started after quickly glancing at the list of questions, for he was quite at a loss for words. "Would you like to tell me about your situation, in Scotland?"
"Of course, sire," she said. Her accent was strong, but not as thick as Lady MacGregor's. "I am the eldest daughter of Marquess McIntyre, from Glasgow. My mother passed away twenty-two years ago when I was three years old, and he remarried."
"Any brothers to take up your father's title?" James asked. As of now, she was the highest-ranking lady in the group he had met. He wondered if there was another daughter of a Marquess.
"A step-brother, aye," she said, "son of my step-mother."
"I see." He paused, not being able to take his eyes off of the beautiful face in front of him. "I am quite surprised to see you here if I have to be honest," he said.
"Oh? Why is that, my lord?" Yvaine frowned, making her brow scrunch up in the sweetest way possible.
"As the daughter of a Marquess, I am certain you would have had many a caller during the Season. Yet you still haven't found a match and here you are."
Yvaine looked at the bottom of her cup of tea. "I have never attended the London Season, Your Highness." She paused but decided to elaborate. "My stepmother always kept me at home to help raise her three children. If I had gone, I would probably have found a match a long time ago, and she would have had to raise them on her own."
"And she doesn't like her children?" James asked. That was preposterous: was not every woman a loving mother?
"Not really," Yvaine admitted. "She loves them, but she does not like children and does not know what to do with them."
"So, this is your escape route, in some sort?" he asked. When his father sold that article about his Selection to the Newspapers and they started receiving all those envelopes, James had dreaded that the ladies were all either madly in love or in search of the best match with the most eligible widowed man in the Kingdom. It turned out they had so many more complex reasons to be here.
"I am not sure, my lord. I suppose I am still figuring out what I am doing here." She paused and sipped on her tea. "My step-mother wanted her daughter to come, but Diana felt she was too young at just twenty years old and she did not want to submit her name. So, I sent in my application in her place."
James wanted to laugh: some had been signed up by their parents or had come in the stead of someone else. Did anyone here actually want to marry him? Or was this going to be easier than he had expected in the first place? If he could just figure out who wanted what, then he could probably cut the applicants in half. Now all he had to do was figure out who was here only to further their own agendas but in a subtle way.
"I am sorry, what did you say?" James said when he realized Lady McIntyre was looking at him quite expectantly.
"I was simply saying that I was hoping to stay long enough to go bathe in the sea," she said softly. "I hear it does wonders to one's health."
"Yes," James said. "I heard that as well. I am sure you will be staying long enough to try sea bathing." He paused. "Out of curiosity, how long did it take you to come to London, Lady McIntyre?"
"Oh, well, I went to Edinburgh by carriage," she replied, "and then boarded a ship that sailed for London. It was quicker than by land, only five days by sea, my lord."
He nodded again. His plan to cut half the contestants would be quite ruthless, then, especially for those who had traveled from so far away. He should at least keep them all here for a month before starting to send them home, so their voyage was at least a bit profitable for them. "Thank you for your time, Lady McIntyre," he said, giving Henry his cue to escort her back inside.
A couple of minutes later, James looked up when he heard two sets of what seemed like booted footsteps coming his way. He fought the urge to roll his eyes and just walk away from the whole event. Because right next to Henry was yet another young lady wearing trousers with high heels – which was quite uncommon – with a black riding jacket and a simple white blouse underneath with a lace collar peeking out and her blonde hair tied up into a strict updo.
"Lady Dorothea Herbert, Your Royal Highness," Henry said with the slyest smile, knowing very well what the prince had said about the ladies wearing pants – "Send them home!".
"Lady Herbert," James said, bowing his head to her as she bowed and sat on the chair he was indicating. "I assume you must be quite the rebellious type as well to be wearing such an outfit."
"I would not use that strong a term to define myself, my lord," she said. "Simply strong-minded, perhaps?"
"Hm…"
"But to be completely honest," the lady continued, "one of my closest friends dared me to meet you dressed like this."
James raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? And what are you winning, now that you did?"
Dorothea shrugged slightly. "Nothing. Simply the satisfaction of having done it, I suppose. I shall write to her to tell her, though."
James nodded and looked the lady up and done, trying to see past the outrageous outfit. "Is that paint on your fingers?" he asked, curious. James could recognize an artist when he saw one; there were always the little signs here and there – paint, absent-minded, looking at details, and so on.
"Oh, yes," she said. "I was painting in my sketchbook this morning. I am always an early riser– I feel that the silent hours of the morning are helpful for the inspiration."
"And did it work?" he asked. "Did you find your inspiration, then?"
"I am not sure," Lady Herbert replied, looking at the trees in the garden. "I haven't had a strike of inspiration in a while. I was simply trying to get something done on the paper… anything, really." She paused and looked at the prince. "You seem to be acquainted with inspiration and art, my lord. Not many people would notice the paint…"
James tried a smile, but he wasn't sure it came out as a smile. "I have occasionally forgotten to clean the charcoal from my fingers, as well, Lady Herbert," he said.
"You draw?" she asked, perking up.
"I try to."
"I would love to see your work, then," she offered. "Unless you've also been lacking inspiration like me?"
James thought for a moment. Had he been lacking inspiration? It had not been without trying. How many times had he drawn in the past weeks? Not enough, that was for certain. At least much less than he used to. "I suppose I have."
"Then we shall have to find our inspiration again together." Lady Herbert took a cookie from the table, nibbled on it, and stood. She bowed and left the prince to his tea.
"Do you need a moment, James? Or shall I bring in the next lady?" Henry asked.
"A moment, please."
Henry nodded and went inside.
Hii! sorry this took too long, but these past couple of weeks have been quite hectic with the twins^^
anyway, thank you for reading and leaving your comments, it always makes me so happy ;) I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that will be one last chapter of meetings (once I receive the last 7 OCs hehe), but it will probably be some time. Please note that the end of June is just upon us and that it was the extension limit. ^^'
Thanks again for reading and see you next time! I can't wait to hear what you think of these ladies! bye!
