Mercy. Arabella had briefly wondered what had prompted her sister to make such a doting compliment regarding her finery. Mercy must have heard from Ingrid and passed the note along, preventing Alexandra from making the same mistake as she had. That girl was getting good, that thought alone brought a smile to her face. As did her sister's compliment. Naturally, Alex handled the swift exchange of information with all of the class and grace that Arabella herself might afford. A part of Arabella wondered if she actually had taught Alex anything, or if everything was a unique creation of her own identity.
The idea of serving herself was not something that was entirely comfortable for Arabella. In fact in her entire life she had never served herself anything more than taking some toast from the center of the breakfast table. She simply did not do. Though she had known this was, occasionally, something that Arthur and Alexandra did in their home. It could stay that way quite happily. But the small saving grace was simply how doting Christian was being this evening, he did everything for her and for once Arabella felt taken care of, thought of. It was a nice change from the ordinary.
It was rather astonishing if one considered just how young Arabella was, and certainly how young Alexandra was by comparison. And yet they sat as the two most powerful women in the Kingdom. The memories of their parents dinner table were incredibly distant now. But now they were acting as a family, something Arabella thought would have most certainly made both of their parents beam with pride. And just maybe Father would have been kinder to Alex had he known that one day she would be the Queen-in-waiting.
Arabella chimed in as appropriate. "Thank you, my darling for assembling us for this most happy meal. It is a delight for us to be united in presence as well as spirit." When Christian finally disclosed it was Kemp that taught him how to carve, she mentally filed that away, noting to ensure he received a little bit extra in his bonus for getting through that particular education and still serving the family. The poor man must have been an absolute fright.
The story the King told was a rather sweet one, and Arabella couldn't help but laugh at its retelling. Arthur too seemingly taken with the story, one he had forgotten from his youth. Indeed he had always been a curious child, one full of wonder. Especially if he was told he should not go somewhere, or should not do something. That simply made him strive to do it all the more. A healthy sense of rebellion he felt had done his soul good. And while he learned quite a bit, he probably wished he had seen more, or been more involved in his father's life. Something which he supposed could have hurt him, would he have become more like his father? Or less? Was it the distance between them that truly allowed Arthur to form his own ideas and notions of independence? It must have been.
"The Italians are entirely too soft with their children, so much cooing." Arabella commented off handedly. Yes, she knew Alexandra would be a far more hands on mother, as Arabella intended to as well, but still, the Italians in her mind, seemingly gave in to their emotions far too quickly and publicly. But that could well have just been Arabella's general disposition. While she was certainly more in agreement with Alex than ever before, she still kept some of her own beliefs.
"When you were growing up, I imagine it was you would often be caught under tables or your father's desk, mother." Arthur had a soft smile on his face, the lightest trace of a giggle on his tongue. The entire evening thus far had been relaxing, and even he melted into the notion of family. While Arabella was the farthest thing from his mother, there was an odd satisfaction in thinking for just this little bit they were a complete family of parents and children. He simply missed his own mother, he longed for those brief few good years.
Arabella began to laugh and shook her head, her hand waving in the air to indicate this wasn't quite right. "Hardly." She sighed and then inhaled deeply. "It always Alex. You see, if I was stuck in a meeting with my father whilst hidden, I would have been so dreadfully bored with what the men discuss. And I was too young to understand. Alex on the other hand... like a sponge as a child." It was true, and for many that wasn't an attractive quality, and Arabella couldn't help but wish she had been a little more like Alex and paid attention. "It wasn't until I was married that I learn how handle those sorts of situations."
It wasn't until she was married to Richard that Arabella learned to engage men in stimulating conversation over things she wasn't always allowed to speak upon, but Richard always gave her the space. And if Richard gave her that space, every other man did too. That was Richard's power when he was alive, and that was the power that propelled Arabella to the top of the food chain. That is what made her dangerous. "No, I was the one who made our father nearly pull all of his hair out because I'd gone off and caused some terrible mischief around the house. No one was safe from me, truly!" Arabella was of course joking. "But it certainly was more fun." She admitted to this, also in a light hearted and perhaps joking kind of fashion. Arabella had been able to let go of her anger for the time being and simply enjoy being around the family table.
"But... all of this is trivial if..." Arabella turned her gaze to Christian, the look on her face was playful but knowing. "I would adore hearing a tale of a young Christian." For all Arabella knew about her husband, including the fact that the story he had just told actually happened in 1844 in honor of a diplomatic visit from the Duke of Orleans, her father had told her the story many-a-time, but she feigned ignorance - Arabella really didn't know much of the good from Christian's childhood. He adored his mother, hated his father, idolized his grandfather. "Forgive me if I am too forward, but I must think you too have a little something to share, no?" Arabella felt she was walking on eggshells with what should have been a very simple request.
"Please father, do indulge us!" Arthur even added in, also smiling so broadly. It all felt so normal, so absurdly normal that it seemed... unreal, absolutely confusing and out of known character.
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