Eleanor stood, clutching Bernard's journal as if it were a lifeline. She shook a little, not sure if that should be attributed to nerves, or a chill.
She had definitely ran cold when hearing her name called out.
Betsy crossed the large anteroom and embraced Eleanor. Pulling back, Betsy rubbed her hands up and down the lady's arms, trying to do something to help dispel the shaking she felt when she held her, "Just blame it all on Papa." Betsy rested her palm on Eleanor's cheek. Looking very determinedly into Eleanor's eyes, Betsy tried to impart some of her strength to the elderly lady.
"I was planning on that already, my dear. Pray for me?" Eleanor gave Betsy a timid smile, as she moved to answer her cousin's summons.
While Eleanor was definitely fearful of the King's reaction to her revelations, she was more than ready to have this behind her. Taking a deep fortifying breath, Eleanor entered the King's inner sanctum.
"Cousin." The King greeted Eleanor from his place next to a side table, a servant was pouring him a warmed toddy.
Eleanor clutched the journal to her breast, and gave him a shallow dip, sufficing well enough as a curtsy for an aging relative.
Lady Eleanor Kent and the King were well acquainted, him holding especially fond memories of her from his youth. Ellie had been older than he, and his rambunctious cousins, she had been of an age to fish him out of the fountains when he had been younger. A young lady herself, she had been just that much older than he and his friends, to be fun, and engaging, organizing games and entertainment in an attempt to help keep them out of trouble.
And he; the King chuckled to himself, remembering his youth; had had a penchant for finding trouble. He had been bored, young, and sheltered, finding any chance to run amuck, he had taken it. He smirked ruefully as he thought of much discipline he had most likely escaped, thanks to this woman before him.
He raised his cup, along with a dark brow, "Chocolate, or a toddy?"
Eleanor approached, "Mmm, the toddy, please." She wanted to ask the King's man to toss in an extra shot of whiskey, but she knew that it probably would not help.
Confession is good for the soul, she thought. We shall just see about that.
"Come, sit with me and tell me why you are here." The King graciously gestured to an intimate seating area in one corner of the room, well away from the servants and his men.
The servant followed with Eleanor's cup and saucer, setting it on a small table next to her chair, he then retreated back to his post.
Eleanor set the book in her lap and lifted the cup, sipping from it for a moment, while the King did the same. Allowing its warmth to creep through her body from the inside out, she stalled hoping the drink would lend her comfort and courage.
"So what have you there, I noticed you clutching it most fervently, what have you found?" The King's dark eyes questioned Eleanor. He was very curious as to why she was here, she seemed nervous, or, slightly frightened, he could not remember her ever having been so in his presence before.
Eleanor took another fortifying sip, then set her cup aside. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, then simply told him the truth, "I have Alexander's daughter out there." She waved her hand to indicate the door to the anteroom.
The King stared at her for a moment while he let her words sink in. "You have Al...."
The King's eyes, black as night, began to shimmer slightly. He closed them and tried to fight against the sharp, piercing feeling suddenly assailing his nose. When his throat began to close tightly and tears sprang unbidden to his eyes, he opened them, giving Eleanor such a tortured look, she began to well up with tears also.
Eleanor had been afraid of this, and now it had happened. She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.
"Why?" It was all he asked of her, his voice breaking slightly as he did.
Alexander Hastings, his bodyguard, his right hand man, his voice of reason on occasion, but most of all, the best and only, true friend the King had ever allowed himself. When Alexander had almost died after saving his life, he had let him go, as that was what Alex had wanted. They had ended up losing Alexander just the same, the King remembering vividly when Bernard had come to tell him his friend was gone.
Bernard had said nothing about Alexander and Mary leaving a daughter.
The King received a few letters when Alexander first arrived in America, his words had described the country, the land, and the natives but, there had not been any later letters, and in the ones he did receive, there had been no mention of a child.
"It was because she was all Bernard had left." Eleanor tried to justify Bernard's decision all those years ago. She hated that her cousin was being hurt, she only hoped he would understand.
"And, she is out there?" He asked softly, looking to the doors, his heart in his eyes.
"Yes, however," Eleanor leaned forward to regain his attention, his eyes swiveling back to her questiongly, she continued, "there are a few things you need to know before you meet her." Eleanor thought he should at least know about her shooting at Eli, so they could, hopefully, get that out of the way.
"Where has she been all this time?" The King sat back into his chair, resigning himself to gather more information before satisfying his curiosity to get a look at the girl.
"She was with Bernard and I, until he passed, then, she was with me." Eleanor assured him the girl had been well cared for.
"But, why did you not tell me? I could have...." He began.
Eleanor leaned forward, throwing protocol out the door, she lay a hand upon his knee, "I know... and Bernard knew, he knew that you would want to elevate her, and he wanted... well, he wanted..." Eleanor looked down and opened the journal, she flipped through the pages to find the page he would need to read. Handing it across to him, Eleanor then turned to reclaim her toddy, she lifted her cup, sipping at it, while it remained hot.
The King read the page she had indicated, then he read it again before handing Eleanor the journal back. He took a moment to think on what he had read.
He was hurt, as he would have loved a chance to have at least seen the girl, "I see... I think. I do not blame him, nor you, Lady Eleanor, but I am very disappointed to not have been given the chance to know her." He braced himself on the chair to rise, but, once again, Eleanor stopped him with her words.
"There is more." She set her cup back on the table.
The King once again looked to her questioningly as he settled back in his seat.
"I needed to keep her safe, you see, for Bernard, and for you. As I knew you would meet her when she came of age or married. Those were Bernard's wishes. He wanted her to be free to make her own choices, to not be influenced by, well, namely you." Eleanor made a face, as she did not like telling this part. "So, I trained her to be a Lady's maid..."
"You, what?" The King slammed a hand down on the armrest of his chair as his voice rose threateningly. "Do not tell me she has been some Lady's maid this entire time!" He frowned in confusion, though his ire was still raised. "That would be better than to have me be involved in her life?!"
Ah, now there was the anger that Eleanor had been waiting for.
"Well, yes," Eleanor continued unabashedly, she had already come this far, "as you know, William's wife had been missing all those years...."
"And now is found." The King stated, still angrily.
"Well, now, she was lady's maid to Arianna, whom I chaperoned, that way I was still with her all the time." Eleanor explained.
"Arianna Kent, now, the Countess of Trent, who had been missing for quite some time." He leveled Eleanor with a stare. "Did you keep her safe?"
"Well, yes... I did... until the girls stole away one night, boarding a ship for the colonies." Eleanor looked sheepishly at him.
The King raised a brow, as he knew the Countess had returned a fortnight ago. She, and her family, had entertained him to no end for a week at least. "So, she returned with the Countess?"
"Not exactly." Eleanor's voice broke in nervousness. She cleared her throat softly, "Nay, not quite, she actually," Eleanor looked down to her lap and mumbled the rest, "met, and married a pirate, while they were at sea."
"She what!?!" The King was aghast, Alexander's daughter! Married... to a pirate! "You should have given her to me, Eleanor, I could have at least kept her safe!" He stood, more than ready to meet the girl.
"There is more." Eleanor sighed resignedly, "Please, another moment, mayhap, two."
The King glared at her, thinking he could not be surprised by anything else she said. He sat again, and after a moment he reached for his toddy, glaring over the rim, not so much at Ellie, but more at the situation. "Do go on."
Eleanor took a deep breath, then rambled out, "She can shoot, with an accuracy like no man I have ever seen, save her father."
In spite of his frustration, the King's interest was piqued, "You don't say?"
That was how he had met Alex. On the training field. None had excelled with weapons as Alexander had. He could still remember the day they met, how they had hit it off immediately, and how he had been astounded with Alex's skills. Many hours they had spent, improving his skills with pistols or swords. After Alexander was gone, it was many years before he had picked up a sword again, that having come about only recently.
"Yes, really." Eleanor smiled tentatively, "She had no idea she could, until Arianna decided they needed to know how to defend themselves. And she had no idea who her father was, until I gave her this a few days ago." She patted the journal in her lap. "She only knew he was a reverend, not that he had been one of your men."
The King's brow furrowed, "And the pirate?"
"Oh, he is here also, he is seeking a pardon for himself, and for his crew. He is a lovely man." Eleanor sipped her drink as she gauged his reaction to that.
"Really? A pirate, and a lovely man, and he is voluntarily turning himself in?"
"And his crew." Eleanor was becoming bemused now that the hard part was over. "Oh, and she also took a shot, or two, at your Commander, Eli Fleming."
"She what?!?" The King gasped.
"Well, he was trying to arrest her husband, they had just wed, you see..."
"No, I do not see, is she a criminal sort?" The King asked, appalled.
"Oh no, she is just as sweet as the day is long, she only took offense to your man pointing a pistol at her husband, so I am guessing she shot it out of his hand."
The King's eyes were wide. Then he began to laugh, long, hard and loud. Until tears sprang to his eyes and he had a hard time breathing, "I bet... old Eli... had an apoplexy!"
He began laughing even harder, wiping at his eyes as a mental picture of the commander having a pistol removed from his person in such a way. The King could just imagine the old man blustering away and spitting fire at such an occurance.
"Oh no, what did Eli do to her?" He turned merry eyes to Eleanor, though they grew serious quite quickly at the thought of what the commander may have done.
"He arrested her, and her husband, however, when he finally figured out who she was, he could not wait to bring her to you." Eleanor said with a bit of annoyance.
"Looking for a promotion, is he?" The King said this, thinking aloud. "Maybe it is time he sat behind a desk. He is getting up there in years, the old man." Standing finally, he helped Eleanor to rise. "What is her name?" He asked, as they walked across the room together.
"Elizabeth, Sire." Eleanor stated with pride.
"Elizabeth, I like that." The King replied.
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Pete had a hard time speaking around the lump in his throat. He saw what Rebecca's brother meant to her, she was heartbroken, and his own heart broke for her.
Rebecca looked into the most compassionate eyes she had ever seen. Her brother was gone, dear Lord. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. At least, it seemed, that his boys were all right.
"The boys are safe aboard our ship. Your brother was killed by pirates, ma'am. It was a terrible tragedy, and poor Timmy saw the whole thing." Pete shook his head sadly, he did not want to tell her the details, yet, she needed to know what Timothy was dealing with.
"Your brother was bound and thrown overboard, and Timothy witnessed it all. The boys were taken captive by filthy pirates, and they were held for many days before we were able to rescue them."
Rebecca stared at him, comprehending his words, yet blocking them from her mind at the same time. "Dear God." Rebecca had no more tears, she was in a soft state of shock, just imagining her sweet, jovial, lovely brother going into the sea that way.
Pete saw her eyes glaze over and tremors began shaking through her body.
Pete reached out taking both of her hands into his, "The boys are wonderful... You look like them, did ye know? Jonah, the wee one, has your pretty, white curls." Pete took a chance, and lifted a hand to sift through the blonde strands in front of her ear.
Rebecca accepted his sympathy, holding his hand tightly, she leaned her head into his other hand, lifting hurting eyes to search his face.
Pete smiled sadly, he hated the pain he saw in her eyes, so he kept talking for lack of knowing what else to do, "Timothy is a big, strapping lad, he has a good heart and he is very mindful of his little brother."
Rebecca smiled a sad, hopeful smile, "Will you take me to them?" She wiped the tears from her cheeks as Pete sat back in his chair.
"I can, or I can bring them to you here, whichever ye wish."
"Take me to them, I could not stand the wait. I would only be tortured by thoughts of my brother, and I would go see his boys instead, if I could."
"I will wait, if ye need a cloak or anything, but aye, I will be happy to take you to them."
"Thank you, Pete, I shall be right back." Rebecca wanted to change from her mourning dress, to put on something less severe to meet her nephews for the first time.
In her room, she chose a dove grey gown to don, she lifted a shawl, the same blue as her eyes, from the counterpane in her room. Mincing down the stairs quickly, she rejoined Pete so he could take her to meet her nephews.
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The door opened from the King's inner sanctum, Lady Eleanor came out while all eyes turned her way. Eleanor looked to Betsy, smiling reassuringly, indicating that all would be well. "Elizabeth, he will see you now."
Violet squeezed Betsy's hand, giving her an encouraging smile, as she looked to him a bit nervously.
Betsy turned back to Eleanor, asking timidly, "You are not coming with me?"
"Nay, child, you do not need me, go on, he does not bite." Eleanor smiled ruefully and gave Betsy a little push.
Betsy turned back, embracing Violet tightly. "Wish me luck?" She said hopefully.
Violet did better than that, he picked her up and kissed her senseless, then he set her down and turned her, swatting her bum lightly, "Go get 'im, Kitten."
Betsy hopped forward as his hand connected with her bum, tossing him a roguish grin, she approached the door and curtsied to the King's man who stood there attending it.
"Not yet, miss." The man whispered to her.
Betsy was still giggling when she walked through the door into the King's inner sanctum. Her nerves had her all giddy, and they were not helping matters at all.
She looked around for a person who may be the King, yet she saw no one, save the King's men in their uniforms, and a servant standing by a cart.
"This way, miss." The same man who had told her not to curtsy yet, bade her to the end of the room where another door stood open. She followed the man and was taken to a sort of sitting room, where the King stood next to a fireplace, awaiting her, so it seemed. The King's man closed the door once she was through it. After looking back quickly at the now closed door, Betsy realized she was alone with the King, and she risked a glance at the Monarch.
He was tall and good looking, his bearing, and his face were regal if that made any sense. He was old enough to be her father, he had piercing, dark eyes, that Betsy felt could see right through her.
She dropped into a curtsy, as Lady Eleanor had taught her to years ago.
They had joked at the time that she may need to know how to do so one day, if she ever met the King. Now it was real, and not so funny.
She did remember her stance, and the depth she was to achieve, and she thought she actually did pretty well, considering she had no skirts to hold.
She lifted a self satisfied face to the Monarch, until she saw his own face looking at her. He looked like he had just lost his best friend.
The King could not keep the tears from forming in his eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that she was Alex's daughter.
She had the same eyes, the same face almost, just a feminine, smaller version of her father's.
He closed his eyes, he could see his dear friend's face so much clearer now, more so than he had been able to for a very long while.
He opened his eyes, to then smile at the smattering of freckles across her nose. Alex had hated his freckles. He had said they made a man of a score and four look like a lad of fourteen.
But the King had loved everything about Alex. They had become like brothers, he had been closer to Alex than he had ever been to another soul, and this small sprite was a piece of him.
"Elizabeth." The King gestured her closer, "Come, join me here, please."
He indicated a chair, which Betsy took, and sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap. She gazed up at him, as he remained standing a moment.
He was taking her in, her petite form, her breeches and blouse, and her boots that rode up to her knees.
He was amused to say the least, yet it was her eyes that made him catch his breath, he saw her father's expressions so clearly in them.
He and Alex had been through every kind of situation together. He had seen Alex angry, sad, and compassionate. He had seen Alex joyful, joking, and also dead serious.
He had only had to look into Alex's eyes, and he had known what his friend had been feeling. Her eyes were the exact same.
She was a bit intimidated, yet curious at the same time, it was written clearly in the honey pools that gazed back at him.
"Forgive me, I am indulging myself at your expense, and I do not mean to make you uncomfortable." He moved to take the seat across from her.
She smiled timidly at him and his heart nearly split in two.
He felt that awful pinching in his nose again, and he tried to dispel it by smiling back at her through his tears, "I never thought to see him again, his visage had faded over the years, yet here you are, and I can see him clearly once again." He blinked at the moisture in his eyes, holding his composure together, as her eyes turned questioning.
"My father, Alexander?" She knew of who he spoke, she just did not know what else to say.
"Your father, Alexander. My friend, my brother, and my saviour. I would be dead were it not for him. He was the best man I have ever known and I have missed him most terribly." The King gave her an indulgent smile, as one tear finally dropped down his cheek, which he ignored.
Betsy was at a loss, she wanted to comfort him somehow, but she dared not to, she had no idea what the protocol was for a crying King.
"I am sorry." Her heartfelt apology softened his heart even more towards her, as he feasted his eyes upon her.
She was so young, and seemingly innocent, yet Eleanor had said she was married.
She was barely old enough to be married, he would not have allowed her to wed yet, due simply to her age.
This made him curious about her husband. He had better be worthy of her, was the only thought he processed about that.
He moved to friendlier territory, "I saw your Lady, Arianna, a fortnight ago." He realised this sweet girl had no memories of her father, so he brooked a conversation he thought might interest her more.
"Truly? Is she well, Sire?" Betsy leaned forward in her chair, she was hoping she could see her Lady soon, she had missed her, and wanted Arianna to know she was well.
"She is well, my dear. She and Trent are expecting a child already, from what I hear."
"Oh my, that was awfully quick." Betsy said this before thinking, and the King lifted his head and laughed, while Betsy blushed, and tried not to laugh herself. Was one allowed to laugh with the king?
She looked at him sheepishly, then smiled, as he was fully smiling upon her.
"Yes, it was rather quick, was it not?" He chuckled.
Betsy took her chances and giggled, which charmed him aplenty.
Betsy ventured to ask, "And you saw the Duchess?"
"Yes, she was reunited with her husband at sea, and is rumoured to have stolen him off to Marlborough already." The King was enjoying her company, he would love to hold onto her for a while, and indulge himself with her presence. Just looking at her face pleasured him fully.
She smiled widely at the thought of the Duke and Duchess together once again.
The King realized then that the Kent's had been her family, "The young William was most relieved to have them all return. I believe he is the only one in town at the moment. He will follow his parents to the country after they have settled in though, I hear."
Betsy was amused that the King seemed to like to keep apprised of everyone's whereabouts and doings.
She was enjoying herself. It was almost like being with her Lady, having a tete a tete, after Arianna would return from an evening out.
Betsy giggled at this, she and the King, sitting here, having a little gossip about the Kent's.
"What has amused you?" He asked, hoping she would tell him.
Betsy looked at him a bit timidly, yet, he had asked, "After today, will you know everywhere I am, and where I am going, and when I..........." She giggled, ".....am expecting?" She then held her breath, as she was sure she had crossed some line somewhere.
"Probably before your husband does." He looked her deadpan in the face.
Betsy died, right there in her chair, she curled up in a ball and laughed so hard, that when he joined his laughter with her own, she became a little hysterical.
"Oh....my.....word!" She could not go on for a moment or two... from her nerves over the last few days, combined with being able to let her hair down in front of this man, he had her laughing until she sat there panting and grinning, "Please, please, no more jokes, it hurts." She held her cheeks as she felt little cramps developing.
He guffawed softly as she regained her composure.
Betsy took a deep breath, then sent him a twinkling, mischievous glance, telling him he was a very bad man in a very funny way, "My husband will love you, you know, he is quite the joker himself."
The King sat forward in his chair, "About your husband, Elizabeth. I hear he is a pirate, can you explain to me exactly how that came about?"
"Oh, he is not really a pirate," Betsy waved her hand in the air dismissing the notion, "he is barely a pirate."
"And how, exactly, is one barely a pirate, my dear?" The King quirked his royal brow at her, settling back in his chair, quite ready to hear her story.
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Oh oh The Wizard! Woo hoo!