The Heir and the Spared

Chapter Five

"Sarah."

She turned at the gentle voice and hesitantly raised her tearful face to Philip's. His eyes were soft and shining. After her lips trembled for an instant, her attempt at composure crumbled again, and she hid her face against his chest to conceal her tears.

"Your Majesty."

There was an edge that had entered Philip's voice, and it made Sarah grip the lapels of his coat just a bit tighter in fear. Even under such circumstances, it was not safe to speak to the queen unwarranted.

"Please, may I have just a moment with her? It may serve to calm her. She will be of better service to you if she is composed."

For a long and painful moment, the queen was silent.

"There is a little vestry here, Father John, is there not?" she said at last.

"There is, Your Majesty," the priest replied. "Just up there. I shouldn't mind if they used it for a moment."

Nothing more than that would be appropriate, given that Sarah and Philip were to be unchaperoned in a private room.

"I will be here when you have calmed her," the queen said. "I have something I wish to say to both of you."

Sarah sniffled, attempting in vain to stem the flow of her tears. She felt Philip turn her gently to propel her toward the door on their left. He fumbled with the knob for a moment, then she slipped inside and he followed. Softly, he drew the door closed after him. She went to him.

"Oh, my Sarah," Philip breathed.

Her eyelids fluttered closed for a moment, then she tried to look up at him through lashes wet with tears. "I'm so ashamed," she whispered. "Her Majesty must think me hysterical. I shouldn't wonder if she no longer wishes for my services." At that thought, tears threatened again, and she tried to steady her breathing.

"Let us go then," Philip said, cupping her face in his palms. "I don't care where. I want to marry you, Sarah."

"Philip," Sarah said with a disbelieving laugh. "How shall we live?"

"I'll find something." Philip grinned for a moment. Then his expression softened again, and he stroked her cheeks softly with the pads of his thumbs, wiping away the few tears that had not yet dried. "But I won't find anyone else I love as much as you, Sarah. And I won't give you up."

She exhaled shakily, and turned her face aside to rest it against his chest.

"I love you," she whispered.

"That settles it then." Philip dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "So we wait. We save up what we can, and then, someday, we'll start our life together, and our little family - on our own terms."

Lulled into believing him for a moment, Sarah nodded against his shoulder.

"But Philip, I'll be at Whitehall," she remembered, drawing back. She looked up at him. "The queen is moving there, as soon as possible."

Philip sighed heavily. "So the countess has returned? Or is it someone else this time?"

"It's the countess." Sarah smoothed the lapels of his coat sadly. "I do not know when I shall see you."

Scoffing, Philip insisted, "My dear girl, you must think me faint of heart indeed if a distance of one mile shall stop me from seeing you."

She rose on tiptoe to kiss him, and he bent his head to meet her. After a moment, he pulled back.

"The queen and the priest are waiting," he reminded her. "Though I admit, knowing this is our last chance, it would amuse me to muss you a bit here..." He glanced around at the priestly robes and various foreign-looking articles of Catholic worship.