The Appalling Strangeness of the Mercy of God [M - Hannelorian x DuchessLivilla]

[Hannelorian]

December at Court meant one thing, Christmas. In all of England there was no greater holiday, a time of peace, worship, and of course family. This also heralded the return of the King and Queen to Windsor, where eventually the Prince and Princess of Wales would be summoned as the family must appear to be absolutely united on such occasions. Even if not a single person seemed to look forward to it. But in spite of that, the decorating had commenced. The banisters of the grand staircases were enveloped in green garland, wreathes were absolutely abundant, it was a veritable feast of red and green. Then there were the matter of the Christmas trees, some years ago they had been gifted by Christian's German relatives, and ever since, every single year, trees were delivered and decorated throughout the whole of Windsor. Even the staff had one in their mess. Though it was understandably far less grand than that of the Royal couple.

Weeks had passed since the events of the last family meal and a lot had changed in such time. Of course there was the marriage between the Duke of Kent and his wife, the newly minted Duchess of Kent. It was crack in the ever widening gulf between Arthur's loyals, and the majority of Court and Government, who largely preferred the insular world of the aristocracy where such blood was not mixed. The reports had come and gone of Alexandra's increasingly obvious pregnancy, noting specifically that she was larger than most pregnant women at her stage. Privately, Arabella had her concerns, but she mentioned nothing of them to anyone.

In fact, Arabella had just about forbidden any of her ladies and any of the servants from mentioning the topic in her presence, or anywhere that would lead back to the King. Further any correspondence or anything in the papers that contained mention of it were brought to Arabella first, and at times of her own choosing she would present that information to the King. Better her to handle the abuse than the servants themselves. By this time Arabella herself was more visibly pregnant, and was regularly discussed in the press and gossip sheets, many regarding how well pregnancy suited her (and her sister of course). She looked perfect, she was still the same Queen everyone had come to expect such perfection from.

Naturally she had learned yet another lesson and stayed out of Christian's affairs when it came to her sister and the Prince. The King eventually having cooled, would even on occasion call for her in the evening hours for his own purposes, markedly kind in their marital bed. The two took all their meals together still, unless of course Christian was off at the club or away hunting, though that was just about finished for the year. She dazzled guests at Court, from foreign ambassadors to other dignitaries and members of the government. Arabella had proved to be worth her wait in gold, she was ever the host, and had learned very well exactly what to say and what not to. The fear of God she felt was ever more real, and her studies with the good Father only increased. She feared ending up like Elizabeth ever more, and refused to accept such a fate.

Life for Arabella, for the first time in a long time seemed to calm down, she fell into her routines and stayed in her place. Always putting her husband before herself, always the well being of her unborn child. She was practically a living Saint. When he struck her in private, he would apologize, she would forgive him, and all would be well again. The amount of abuse was thankfully much lighter, owing no doubt to the child she carried, a future heir to the throne. To that end a few other things had changed. Nikolai, the Russian General had been granted permission to take up residence at Windsor, and was to travel with the court. No one ever did solve that little mystery of what happened to the young woman he had caged upon his first arrival.

Arabella and Graves had gotten away with it. More and more she spent time with her ladies, and kept them in line. It was made abundantly clear that they were still first and foremost in service to her, and if any of them tried their hands at the King, they would promptly find them removed. Or worse, sent to salvage. One Viscountess Selfridge discovered this the hard way, and found herself short a left hand for her impropriety. Arabella had the hand sent to her husband in an ornate delicate wooden box, resting atop a purple velvet pillow. It carried a note that simply assured the husband that his wife was well, and would be better served trying for child.

Though on the whole, the public still adored Arabella, she was a source of light and kindness, practically every day she was seen carrying on with charitable endeavors, with breaks for her rest and to have her doctors assure her and her husband of her continued health and that of the child. Her black book, which contained every secret her little spies had collected on every single member of court was something of an open secret. And so to challenge the Queen would be to bring upon the Queen's wrath, or the King's depending on what exactly was contained within those pages. Arabella was playing the game for real now, and she was playing to win. Her kindness was reserved for her Priest, her Husband, her trusted doctors, the public, and of course the servants whom she treated with exceeding kindness and often made sure they were spared the wrath of the King.

Such was going to be a long winter. Arabella, having finished her breakfast, would take prayers with her priest in her own chambers.

[DuchessLivilla]

As ever...life at Marlborough House could have been a universe away from life at court. What was hard, toxic and concerning at court, did not happen here. All was easy, gentle and pleasant. Now nearing the end of her pregnancy -Doctor Thomas reckoned, with the dates, she would have her baby before the end of January- Alexandra was as cheerful as ever, not for a moment showing any signs of being annoyed or fed up with her condition.

She was a little sad at having to give up dancing but instead she played the piano while Arthur partnered one or other of her ladies maids -Alice being still abroad on her honeymoon!- and enjoyed it just as much. Though even that, she had to admit, was a little tricky...they keys were rather further away than they had been!

Yes, she was often tired. Yes, things ached and hurt far more than they had. Climbing the stairs was now a task, rather than something simple but...She would not change it for the world. Even if Arthur had not been a wonderful support, which he was, she'd have faced it all anyway because her baby was happy and healthy and soon enough would be here in her arms, God willing.

As November crept towards December, she and Arthur had busied themselves with decorating the house for their first Christmas; not that they'd be having it on the correct day given the King's orders to appear at court, followed by a brief return home and then to appear when Alex went into 'labour'. The Princess wondered which of them had decided that...it could go three ways:

If it was the King, it was likely because a. he did not wish to have Alex in the house any longer than needed, or more likely b. he wanted to make them rush back when her labours started. Then again, if that was true, it would mean he knew she was pregnant...

So more likely, Alexandra saw Bella's hand in it. Either she, like Christian wanted her gone for as long as possible or...just maybe, Bella, as a sister who still cared, wanted to spare her what she could and not have her stuck here awaiting the day. Or, just as likely, and the one Arthur upheld, it was Bella who wanted Alex to have to rush to Windsor in her pains.

To banish such grim thoughts, both had agreed that they would have their own Christmas, in a decorated house, with their few loyal friends -minus the newly minted Duke and Duchess- and servants before they went to court. Setting out the time before to give them several days of festivities as it if was the correct time.

The 'family style' dining have been such a success for Alice's wedding, Arthur arranged a similar display for 'Christmas' the week beginning December. The ballroom was decorated in garlands, with winter flowers and vivid red displays on the tables. Several great Christmas trees dotted the room, decorated by Alex and the maids -the women eventually making Alexandra sit down and just direct when she was noticeably tired and aching from being on her feet- and Arthur had seen to it with the help of the male servants that every other room practically had it's own tree and decorations.

Even little Beatrix's nursery had a small tree, well out of her reach though on the sideboard, to prevent any pine-needles or such being ingested. She was another delight in the house for Arthur and Alex. It was a great help to have her as an example, before their own child arrived. It would not be such a shock, they told themselves, much to several older maid's smiles; no parent was ever prepared! No matter what experience they had, but they thought it better not to mention that. The Royal couple had enough on their minds.

Alexandra couldn't quite believe that Beatrix was seven months old already. It was amazing to think so much time had passed. She was getting quite the little personality now, and was starting to, when placed on the floor, roller over and make attempts and crawling. Much to everyone's delight! She would grin and gurgle and waved objects she had grabbed, and loved nothing more than kicking her feet and giggling.

Whenever Arthur or Alexandra came to see her, she'd let out a happy gurgle and reach for them. It warmed the Princess's heart...and yet also made her grieve for both Arabella and the baby herself. It wasn't to her or the Prince these things were meant for. It should be her sister, at home, in Suffolk, with Richard and their little one, doting on her.

Instead Bella was trapped in a golden cage with the King and his mad-dog of a enforcer, separated from Beatrix and now not even able to receive news of her. Still, Alex kept a diary for her sister, recording, daily, the little milestones and quirks, making notes of the days and what happened around the baby. If she was Bella, she'd want such a thing. She made sure to add in little mementos; cuttings from baby clothes Beatrix had outgrown, her first curl etc

It could never replace what her sister had lost but it was better than nothing. She also made sure to add the three miniatures that had been painted of the baby: one not long after she had come here, another at about 4 months old and one more recently, done as part of the Christmas celebrations where most well-to-do families sat for a new portrait.

Beatrix still had her baby-blonde hair but everyone had told Alexandra that it was common for babies and she'd likely darken up. Of course, she could not tell them about her mother being as fair as an angel and there being a chance that her child would take after her. She knew also from portraits that Richard had had more sandy-brown hair as a younger man so it was a very possible that the blonde would remain.

She hoped so.

Every evening, when she sat with Beatrix in the rocking chair, telling her stories, she always mentioned 'mama' and told her loose tales about Bella, nothing that could identify her, but enough for now. As the baby drifted off, she'd carry on rocking, wondering about her own baby. Both she and Arthur had black hair, hers with soft curls, his straight, and much of the King's family had been dark, though his great-grandmother had been fair...Arthur's mother had had such lovely strawberry-blonde hair, almost light copper.

She had smiled at the thought. It would please the Prince, she was sure, if one of their future children took after his mother.

Aside from the normal family day to day, and the Christmas event, Alexandra had spent much of her time in plotting...She could not do much outwardly, but inwardly she had decided the more strings she had to her bow, as it were, the better. And coupled with the fact Arthur wouldn't let her practice shooting now she was so advanced in her condition, the Princess had taken up learning Russian in secret.

She didn't know how much good it would do, as the dog had few to speak Russian to but it could not hurt having a vague knowledge of the topic. Who knows, she might be able to learn a few things if she understood him and he didn't know it. As such, she gathered as many books on the topic as she could, and also, having sent her servants -in plain clothes- into the city, taken on a tutor in the form of an elderly Russian man who worked as a grocer.

He had, understandably, been rather stunned when, thinking as he had been told, he was being engaged to teach a young boy of a lower/middling family or some such, he found himself presented to Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Wales! Still, he was a game man and seemed quite thrilled and amused by the whole thing.

He spoke English perfectly, having lived here many years, but still retained his own tongue, which he spoke at home with his family, not wishing to lose that link to his homeland. As such, he came three times a week to the house and spent several hours with the Princess in lessons.

In return, Alex paid, through several channels to avoid it being traced, for his children to have their education moved to a far better school than he could ever have afforded, and also to secure a place for his eldest son at the army college under Arthur's regiment.

With her almost exacting memory, Alex made great strives in studies and practiced alone when Mr Morozov was conducting his business or with his family. Contrary to what she had thought and heard when she started, she found the language rather beautiful. Complicated, yes, she doubted she would ever be able to write it! But deeply poetic in a way English was perhaps not.

Still, she did not forget, for an instant, why she was learning it. This was not pleasure. It might be key later on. Or it might not, but it could not hurt to have another skill. War was coming, one needed all the ammunition one could get.

-

Christmas at Marlborough House went off without any hitch, as befitting something organised by the Prince. The family style dining worked as well as it had at Alice's wedding and everyone had a grand old time. Mrs Patmore, as ever, had outdone herself once again, ensuring everyone from the royal couple, to their guests (the general, his wife, Mr Morozov and his family, the Dowager Duchess etc those for whom it was a delight to spend time with the couple) as well as all the servants, ate their fill with food left over. This was portioned up and dispatched to various places, ensuring nothing went to waste.

The dogs in the kennels did not go without either!

Gifts were exchanged, Christmas bonuses given out, ensuring the servants could treat themselves and their families this season of goodwill, and, of course, dancing. Naturally, Alex, once again, could not join in the more energetic country dancing, but she did, at the least, enjoy several slow waltzes -her favourite- with Arthur and the general. This amounted to mainly just standing and swaying to the music but it was something.

That was perhaps her only complaint about her condition, if she voiced one -which she did not- that she couldn't dance as before. Still, it was minor and for a healthy, happy baby, she'd gladly give it up entirely if asked.

The couple also exchanged their gifts at this time, rather than waiting. Neither wished to have to give their personal, and thought out gifts to each other in front of the watching eyes of the King and Queen on the day itself! They each saved a few to take to Windsor, ones that were domestic and would raise no comment, aside from perhaps a snide 'is that all?'.

Alexandra gifted Arthur a new horse: a fine stallion he had had his eye on for sometime and was most aggrieved when he was sold to another buyer. She had, with the same determination that her sister had, sought out the buyer -a wealthy Greek gentleman with no title but more money than God, it was said- and charmed him into selling the animal to her, for a fine -and at a loss to himself- price. The gentleman had, in a jest and with a wink, begged that should Alexandra ever find herself widowed, she would consider him as her next husband!

She had, with equal charm, replied he would be her first port of call! It may have helped that he was, for all his money and jesting, a charming family man with, according to himself, some nine little ones at home and a softness for them. When he could not fail to miss her condition, he was half sold already.

The Princess also gave her husband an oval portrait of herself, done in the rather sensual style with her hair let down and shoulders exposed. It was, of course, nothing over the top nor indecent, merely a more private portrait that a man would keep in his room...rather than on full display. Laughing, she assured him that when it was painted, her ladies were always in the room and the artist, a rather young one from the Royal Academy, had been most gracious and a perfect gentleman! Which was entirely true. He had, if anything, been so shy it was rather sweet.

She also gifted him a pocket watch on a chain, that, when opened, revealed a delightful secret; several inserts that folded out to contain miniatures. Inside was one of Alex and one of little Beatrix, but with space a plenty for him to add in their new arrival when the time came, and several more besides.

-

Father Lennox was rather amazed when, as December began, an army -it seemed to him- descended upon the ancient castle to transform it into a riot of colour and festivity. Everywhere, it seemed, there were garlands or candles or wreaths or a tree or all combined. It was vastly different from the Christmas he had known at the seminary...

That had been a time of prayer and silence and little had changed in the way of décor. Here it was a veritable assault on the senses! Every lady he passed seemed to be wearing some variety of green and white -red being thought too racy for a gown for a lady, however festive!- and most sported sprigs of winter foliage in their hairstyles.

He clung to his plain black garb and tried his best to not look like an awed child as more and more displays of wealth went up around him. He found himself looking forward, more and more, to the quiet hours he spent with Her Majesty in prayer.

It was a time, for himself as much as her, to reflect and enjoy a little bit of peace and relief from the festive chaos that seemed to be engulfing the castle, however merry it was.

This morning he awaited the Queen in her receiving room with a cup of tea -served by Mercy- and watched, smilingly idly, as the girl added a log to the fire. The King, he knew, had given orders that no chill was to overcome the Queen's rooms, for fear of her health and the child she carried.

He opened his bible and pondered what topic he and Her Majesty would talk of today. That were working their way through the tales and proverbs, talking in depth over the greater meanings and how they could be applied to daily life.

Anthony smiled and read the phrase, "Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is above rubies." It was apt, he felt. The Queen was, to him, the standard of such things. The most noble of women, and one who bore a heavy task with a smile.

[Hannelorian]

Celebrating Christmas early at Marlborough House was likely one of the finest ideas ever crafted. The entire population of the estate was free to rejoice and celebrate. A time were duties were minimal, and much more time was spent focused on prayer, the holiday and celebrating in each others company. Arthur took tremendous pride in his home, his family, and his staff. It wasn't just Christmas for the Royals, it was Christmas for them all. Arthur was happy at a Christmas. A happy he had not felt since he was young and his mother was alive, and not so far down the bottle. Arthur knew that his mother never loved his father, nor did he love her, but even so there were happy times, at least when for his sake his parents could both pretend. The more he thought of it the more he realized how miserable even the good times were, but now he had time of his own.

Of course Arthur adored the gifts from his wife. She could have given him coal and he would still be thrilled and remark on how special it was. The truth is, he didn't care what he got, it was the fact that Alexandra was thinking of him, and putting in such thought as to what would make him happy. She made him happy and naturally there was no better thing in the world, save for Beatrix and their unborn child. Indeed though Arthur was always aware of Beatrix's truth, she may as well been his daughter, for that was how he loved her. They were a happy little family, and everyone could see it and feel it.

For his part, Arthur had a few gifts made for Alexandra. The first was a new tiara that he designed himself. It was of brilliant emeralds and diamonds. The set came with matching pendant earrings, and of course a diamond brooch. This whole bit was rather tricky, as Arthur could not have this work commissioned by the standard Royal jeweler, as that no doubt would have set off red flags at Windsor. Instead he had to send his designs overseas to Paris, the whole thing that taken the better part of the year to get just right.

He also had presented her with a portrait of the three of them, himself, Alexandra and Beatrix. Alex was seated with the baby on her lap, Arthur stood behind with hands on Alex's shoulders. Behind them was a great hearth and roaring fire. These were things that made him happy, these were things that shared memories and experiences above all. Arthur was indeed a very sentimental man. But he didn't care if the world saw his softer side, he was, after all still a Stuart, and even Stuart men had hearts.

--

Arabella made her way to her rooms, doors opening before her as she went about her business and eventually she would reach her receiving room, smiling warmly at the sight of the Priest with his tea. He was waiting as he always did, never knowing if Arabella would be on time, late, or rather late. At least this morning she was relatively on time.

"Father, good morning." Arabella spoke with a smile whilst stepping out of her shoes, dreadfully uncomfortable when pregnant. She preferred, when in the company of her own rooms to simply cast them aside. "Thank you for waiting, it's been absolute chaos with the decorating." Arabella threw her hands up in a simple gesture. While Suffolk was a large estate, it paled in comparison to the size of Windsor. Arabella had indeed had a very busy morning, one that to her too was sentimental.

As it turned out Elizabeth, the former Queen had been resettled into a country estate where no one would find her. But Arabella made sure too, that her house was decorated well for the holidays, and that Elizabeth would have gifts, though she would not be told where they came from as was Arabella's instruction. She did this with the approval of the King, but these were the kind gestures she could afford to give. Christian simply said yes, caring little for the details, but this too, was as Arabella preferred. Not to mention Arabella still kept her rooms at Windsor in pristine condition, with fresh flowers and a card each week that bore her own initials. Even if it was empty, this was something for her and her alone.

"Before we begin. I have something for you." Arabella held up a finger, a gesture meant to request that Father Lennox wait a moment for her return, and the Queen quickly disappeared deeper into her rooms and returned with a simple box, nothing terribly flashy. Arabella would take a seat beside the priest and open the box to reveal the contents. Inside was a blue woolen scarf, very simple in it's design, it was knit by hand and smelled of the Queen's perfumes, a by product of it's construction now doubt. Unfolding it, the Queen gently placed it about his neck. "I made it myself. Just as I used to for Richard each year. Though yours are simpler, I figured you wouldn't want something too decorative." Arabella was all smiles, it was a small gift, something little she could do for a man who meant so much to her.

"You'll appreciate that something like this is very difficult to keep from one's confessor, but I did my best." When Arabella was alone with Father Lennox, she was well and truly a different person. Her burdens had seemed to ease, her thoughts were growing less dark, there was a kind of optimism she carried with her. Arabella was a beacon of piety to the nation, and indeed it was something that by and large was no longer a falsehood. She was kind and charitable. She played the game when she needed to, but mostly with her own ladies, making sure everyone knew their placed and stayed in line. Arabella seemed to come to life when in the presence of this man.

Though entirely unspoken, Arabella's feelings for the man had grown. He reminded her terribly of Richard, a younger Richard. And for her to feel close to him, that was healing she didn't know she needed. She hadn't ever processed what had happened as she was never allowed to grieve, to mourn, she was forced to move on. But now things seemed settled, there was a rhythm and a grove that had unfolded. Arabella was content for now. The only thing Arabella would not discuss was her sister. Arabella treated Alexandra as though she were dead.

"What shall I learn of today?" Arabella moved herself from the soft seat and onto the floor where she crossed her legs over one another, somewhat like a pretzel with her skirts splayed out around her. Arabella felt more like a student this way, and she could more freely engage in a meaningful dialog.

[DuchessLivilla]

Anthony, naturally, rose the moment Arabella entered and he bowed. He had been told, several times, that when they were alone, he did not have to but, with a smile, he had told the Queen that he would always do it; not in respect of her title -though he respected it, of course- but out of respect for her as a woman and a child of God.

He smiled and took a seat when she bade him wait, watching with amusement as Mercy slipped from the room in such a way he had seen other maids and servants do. They had a way of doing it that did not draw the eye. He was sure many a courtier would not even notice the appearance or removal of a servant in their daily lives. He gave a little nod to her as she vanished before turning his gaze back to the door the Queen had departed few.

The young priest blinked and watched as she opened the box and removed a beautifully knitted blue scarf. Before he could think to refuse, she had wound it about his neck and settled it in place. He, shyly, lifted his hands and touched the soft wool. It was clearly of the finest quality, unlike the scratchy wool items he had always been used to.

It smelt of her perfume. For a moment he felt deeply overwhelmed, both by the gift and how touched he was, as well as the scent. He blinked again and blushed. "Your Majesty...I...I am overcome. Thank you, truly. I do believe it is my first Christmas gift," he laughed softly. "I can think of nothing more precious you could give me."

He stroked the wool again then added, "And to have a homemade gift from you is most humbling." He chuckled, "Forgive me, but I assumed great ladies did not knit and make such things. Embroidery, yes, but that was all. I see, again, that I still have much to learn about the court and society!"

As she took a seat on the floor, Anthony sighed softly, but fondly, "Majesty, I do wish you would sit on the chaise. A Lady in your condition should not be seated on the floor, and certainly not before a person such as myself." He shifted off the seat and joined her on the floor, mimicking her pose, and holding his bible on his lap.

He glanced down at the book and his hand resting on it. "Hmm, I have made no plans for today. I normally go through and God gives me a sense of what we should address today but today, nothing came to me," he chuckled softly. "Perhaps you have learned all there is to know! It would not surprise me. You are so diligent. Is there anything you wish to talk of today instead? As we have the time and the quiet."

[Hannelorian]

Arabella smiled brightly as Anthony, donning his scar, joined her on the floor. "Well the truth is, embroidery is our forte as society ladies." That was fair, Arabella was well versed in the craft, as was expected of her. "One of our nannies, Mrs. Hyde, taught me to knit." It was a fond memory of childhood. Mrs. Hyde was a beast of a woman, borderline abusive with her and Alex, however, she did teach the young Queen a few useful things. "And I've never stopped, it's more of a private hobby, but I find it expresses my gratitude quite well."

The idea of a handmade gift was something Arabella adored. At a certain point, Arabella was no longer expected to do such things. Gifts were all purchased, and did not even involve Arabella making the purchases her self, simply authorizing them. In fact, Arabella always had a handmade gift for Richard, in addition to items and other things she picked out personally. "A gift for you, Father, was both quite easy and rather challenging." Though Arabella had not considered she was to give him his very first Christmas gift.

"There are any number of things I can think of that would make a fitting fit for a noble Priest such as yourself. New religious garb, or any number of crosses or rosaries. Bibles... but all of that seems too flashy. It feels more appropriate to do something humble, something personal and as such... a simple scarf." Arabella's cheeks flushed red for a moment. She would not admit to how long it took her to come to this conclusion, and how many scarfs she had started before settling on the perfect one. "Your concerns for my well being are noted. I'm actually rather comfortable on the floor." Another smile on Arabella's face as she more or less settled into a position of relative comfort.

"I doubt I have learned even close to all there is to know." Arabella nodded, her gaze resting comfortably on Anthony. "I must confess that lately Mother Mary has been in my mind. In fact... If you wouldn't mind just opening the drawer for me." Arabella pointed to a rather long drawer in an ornate dresser against the wall. Inside, Anthony would find plans, for construction. "Something I've been working on..." Arabella had been rather busy, so much so that it flew under the radar for most. "I haven't told Christian yet." Arabella looked up rather longingly. "A new chapel for Windsor. One of my own design, a Lady Chapel of sorts, a Mary Chapel." Indeed, Arabella was desperate, not to prove her piety, but to truly live up to it for once. To do something for others that would allow her to be remembered fondly, especially when she was no more, whether at the hands of Christian or time. "She's been in my dreams..." Arabella found it comfortable, almost reassuring, something to let her know that her baby would be good, would be loved.

[DuchessLivilla]

Anthony nodded as he listened to her. He always -entirely genuinely- actually listened to what the other person said and gave every impression of finding whatever it was deeply fascinating. He had a clear interest in the thoughts of others, however alien to his own views.

"Indeed," he smiled. "I fear such grandeur would not suit me. I much prefer to walk the simple path. I do not, of course," he added, blushing, "Think ill of those who walk another path. Your Majesty as an example. Finery much becomes you. Though," the young priest added, almost coyly, though it was accidental, "I do believe Her Majesty could appear in sack-cloth and ashes and still be the most radiant woman to grace the court."

It was the type of compliment a beautiful woman like Arabella had heard since she came of age; given out easily and freely by men to whom she cared nothing for. She would smile and thank them humbly, as if she cared what they thought.

But...from a man like Anthony, a man so removed from society and the court and the 'courtly game of love' it was as if it had never been spoken before. Now it meant something.

Anthony rose and did as he was bid, unfolding the plans and looking at them with the same serious, interested expression to which he gave everything. He nodded as she spoke, "I see...Yes, indeed, very interesting. Did you design this all yourself, Majesty? It has a wonderful scope and style! Elegant and yet very...fitting, I should say."

He glanced up from the plans, smiling warmly. "A chapel dedicated to Our Holy Mother is most apt for your condition too, Majesty. A fine gesture...Also, a place where you may have some private prayer. Saint George's chapel is wonderous, do not mistake me, and deeply connected to the Monarchy, but..." he searched for the word, "It is rather...designed to the thoughts of man, I suppose. Man as in the male, I mean. With it's banners of the Knights and so on. Dark woods, strength and greatness."

Anthony reached out and took her hand gently, squeezing it softly. "Mother Mary will always be with you, ma'am. She looks after ladies most tenderly." This was, perhaps, wishful thinking, though he didn't doubt it. But what could he know of the suffering of women? He was a man, a priest, yes, but a man. He had had a grim childhood but he was a boy, then a man...Whatever his lowly birth, he was the most fortunate in that.

What was the saying women of all ranks were told?

'One day, if you are blessed, you shall bring forth sons, your one consolation in life. Each son you bear marks you as more worthy.'

That was, even if it wasn't said aloud, the only real role of a woman in their world; as the future makers of sons. The most precious thing. Girls were failures. A waste of their efforts and pain. They could yes, later become mothers themselves, but still...To suffer the pain of childbirth for a mere girl when it could have been a son. There was nothing more humiliating.

More so for a Queen or Princess. Much of this was internalised sexism. Whispers and looks from others, sighs and shakes of the head. It was seen plainly in Queen Elizabeth; yes, she had gone to the bottle and failed to please her husband and all the slights heaped upon her...but for all that, she was still, by some, well regarded, simply because she had, in her only pregnancy, had a healthy son. It marked her as having done her duty. That she failed after, well, it was not so big of an issue.

There were even some women who would rather remain childless, entirely unblessed by God in that way, than be seen to have failed with a daughter. These were in the extreme, but still. Women who had been so drilled and taught so harshly of their duties that even if the little girl was as healthy and as perfect as Mary herself, it was a failure to the mother.

And yet Anthony, in his innocence and naivety, thought Mary really did watch over women. If she did, she was doing just that.

Watching.

Taking no action.

"Is it to be for the court ladies as well? Or just the Royal ladies?" He added, smiling. Naturally, the Royal ladies equalled only two...Arabella and Alexandra. "Does your Majesty look forward to seeing your sister again this coming Christmas season? Such a time for family."

[Hannelorian]

"The ideas are mine... based on sketches and thoughts. The architects obviously prepared those drawings." Arabella smiled softly, she appreciated the approval of Anthony, in many ways his opinion was the only one that mattered to her these days. "You're quite right about St. George's. It is splendid beyond compare, but... something private, devoted to the Mother. Well, that seems an ideal place for women, no?" Arabella had spent years of her life praying to Mother Mary. Years, many of them she had at one point felt were wasted, perhaps she still did.

Arabella, despite her beauty and her intelligence, would always be marked with failure. She was the example of the woman who was not worth remembering, not worth thought. She had spent years married, happily, but had never been blessed with a child. She could not perform her one and only duty. The only thing required of her. And when her prayers went unanswered and time was running short, she committed an even more grave sin. One she would never speak of, one she would never confirm, not even to her own sister. And then after all of that... it was a girl. A daughter. Of course Arabella loved her daughter, but in the eyes of the world, all of that waiting, all of that time, it had been for nothing and Suffolk disappeared forever lost.

If Arabella had not been scooped up by the King, if she had not gotten pregnant almost immediately as she had, Arabella would have certainly been cast out into nothingness, a failure, not worth much. An embarrassment to her titles, to her country, to her husband and to her God. "To my mind, father, it would be open to the court ladies as well. To any woman who needs the comfort of the Lady Chapel. The comfort of Mary, who more so than anyone else may understand our burden, and our gift." Arabella certainly felt the sting of her own failure.

"To have a daughter is a curse. A curse worse than dying in childbirth. A curse worse than having lived the most holy of lives, Father." Arabella moved her way slowly closer toward him, she had a serious look upon her face but not one that betrayed her, not one that did not also show the happy bits she was feeling. "To have a daughter is worse than having no child at all, and such was my fate. The King is my redemption in the eyes of the court. And they can say nothing, but even I have sympathy for them. Those who would judge me, well, let he among us without sin be the first to condemn." Arabella was now smiling again, albeit softly.

Anthony held a special place for the Queen, and as such, he was the only who could bring up Alexandra and not immediately suffer the Queen's displeasure. "If I'm to be honest, I'd rather not see her." Arabella knew this was a complicated sentiment and so she would endeavor to explain. "Of course I want to see her, make sure she's healthy, doing well with the child. I'm sure she is. But even her name can send the King into a fury. No one is allowed to mention it in his presence." Arabella sighed a bit. "If there is news, the servants deliver it to me, so I can tell him, and so I take the brunt of his anger, as opposed to them. Thank God."

This was not new information for Anthony, but still it seemed worth repeating. "And every time she is here... I'm somehow made the fool, and once more the subject of Christian's anger. So now, I wish she wouldn't be here. As much as I do love her, I have to wonder if it's worth the price I pay. Not to mention, it cannot be enjoyable for her either. And now that dog, Nikolai is here, all the time... watching, waiting, taunting..." Arabella shook her head and looked down toward the floor. Nikolai, the nightmare child. The depraved man. When he found himself in relative isolation with Arabella, the things he would say. How he lusted after her, but not as he lusted after Alexandra. But still, his desire to rape the sisters, to bleed them dry, watch them writhe, squirm until they drew their final breath.

It made Arabella sick, and what's more, Arabella did not wish to see her sister subject to such grotesqueness. "Father, I am not to be spared. God willing, I have a son. At least then, like Elizabeth before me, I will be some measure of success, and what happens after... no one will care. Save you perhaps."

[DuchessLivilla]

"Indeed...Indeed," he smiled. "A fine place for ladies to pray and be close to our lord, without feeling as if they do not belong in the main chapel. It is a grand idea. I cannot wait to see it completed. With his Majesty's agreement, of course."

The priest sighed and held her hand once more. "Ma'am, please, do not say such things. In saying such you demean yourself, as a female. No child, boy or girl, is a curse. No matter their sex, forgive the word, no matter their low or high status, their titles or such. No child is a curse. It is a blessing. I am a bastard, Majesty. Born in sin, and yet I was born. God willed it to happen. I am meant to be here. As are you, and the King, as is every boy and girl. They are part of God's plan, separate from Man's silly ideals, if you'll forgive me that talk. I merely mean...society may decide a girl is a curse, but God does not. She is part of his plan. Women are oft mentioned in the Bible, are they not? Jesus, our blessed Lord, would not be here if not for a woman."

He smiled gently. "Even if you bore seven daughters and no sons, Majesty, you would be just as beloved, just as worthy to be Queen. The might rage, as men are wont to do...But he could not go against God's will that he have only daughters. What he thought would change nothing. We are given what we are given, if you take my meaning. I am a firm believer in that."

Anthony settled more comfortably and carried on, "Your first marriage was a happy one, yes? But childless. And yet you fine yourself married now, perhaps...no so happily," he said, with a weak smile to her. He knew full well it was anything but happy. Perhaps God looked down upon you and your first husband and saw the love and happiness there. Your husband, from what you have told me, loved you for yourself, and not for the hope of children or similar. And thus you were not blessed. Here," he gestured, "You find yourself in most different circumstances...If you do not have a child, you may be in great danger, and thus you quickly conceived. I believe God and Our Lady, brought that about to preserve you, Ma'am. You were in no danger with His Grace in your childlessness. Here..."

Anthony blushed. He had never spoken so much and so openly. It was, in parts, bordering on heresy. "Forgive me, I speak too openly on topics that do not concern me," he added, looking down.

It was a fine though, in any case. Though, if that were true...Alexandra and Arthur were as well matched and happy and in love as Arabella and Richard had once been. Arthur, like the former Duke, would never think to put his wife away or to death for her 'failures' and yet...Alex, it seemed, had conceived on her wedding night.

Perhaps it was true.

And perhaps God just had different plans for each sister. Who could tell? Maybe it was all nonsense and just a game of chance. Pure luck. Damned luck, for some.

"Yes..." he sighed again. "I know. It is a great shame. I can see the conflict in you, Majesty. This time of your life should be a happy one, as sisters, together, both looking to the future. Strength and comfort to each other in your happy conditions. Yet you are forced to ignore such urges."

Anthony gave a little shudder. He too found the King's 'dog' as unnerving as if he had been face to face with Satan himself. Part of him was not convinced he hadn't been! "True. It is perhaps best the King is so forceful against her, for her own sake. The man takes no notice of myself, and for that I am much relieved. I cannot imagine how it would be to be in his gaze..." He swallowed.

At her talk of saving he squeezed her hand. "Majesty, you shall be saved, I have every confidence. You have far more to do, far more to give to this world. You shall come through this fire, I promise. You shall die an old lady," he smiled. "In your bed, safe and warm, surrounded by your children and grandchildren."

[Hannelorian]

"Dearest Father, please do not misunderstand." Arabella was once again smiling. "I do not personally believe that having no children, or birthing a daughter or daughters is a curse. Every child is a blessing, a miracle of their own." The Queen did enjoy that Anthony was ever the optimist, he had a view on the world that few others had. But here it was pleasant and welcome, whereas from most it might only serve to anger the Queen.

"However, the gaze of society is cruel, and even if we do ultimately hold the moral high ground, the perceived righteous will find a way to complain and to judge. It is their lot in life, a function of their station. They serve to remind us all of our failures, at least those things they deem as failures. "You are quite right, Richard would have loved me no matter what, child or not. We understood each other, loved each other. Here, Windsor, my marriage. It is a dangerous place to be. But, I do feel as though Christian and I have settled into our routine."

Arabella hoped that was true at the very least. "I shall approach him with the plans in the near future... Certainly before we receive Alex and Arthur anyway." The notion of a happy time in her life was an odd one. Yes, this time was supposed to be a happy one, but perhaps Arabella was not all miserable, perhaps in some odd way she had found happiness where most thought none would exist. "I am not unhappy, Father. I have found my happiness. I have your friendship and counsel. I have God. I have my child to think of, my good works... I am paragon of a charitable and loving Queen. Devoted to her people to the last, and so long as my flock are well kept, then I am indeed a very happy woman."

Arabella had to look for the light in the dark places, else she would be driven mad. She ruled over people, and she kept her ladies in line and she kept an open connection to God. "So perhaps then, today, we should observe the decorating. Take in some Christmas cheer, perhaps with that lovely cup of tea." Arabella pushed herself to a standing position and extended her hand down to the priest, her skin at the moment still exposed without gloves, but in the privacy of her own little world she didn't exactly care.

"Perhaps you may indulge me in what Christmases were like for you as a child, or in seminary. Maybe there is something we can do for the foundling hospital this year, to make it a little extra special for the children. And besides, I can force my way in, they don't say no to me. Perks of being the Queen." Arabella giggled lightly. She did seem truly happy, even amongst the madness, she for the first time appeared as an ordinary woman, one of faith, one of pride of place. "I've never had to address something the size of Windsor before, and I've been aching to put my own spin on the whole thing."

[DuchessLivilla]

Anthony smiled, "For all your words...I sense a 'but' lingering in there. 'I am happy...I am such and such...but...' if you take my meaning. I cannot think you could be blamed for that, Ma'am. You have wealth, security, of a sort, you will never go hungry, never cold and so on, all that I was as a child and all I would have fought for...And yet...You have lost a great deal, and it has not been replaced. As you say though," he helped her rise and waved a hand, "We shall leave that topic for today."

"You are right for society though," he sighed. "The more I see of it, the more I wish to have no truck with it at all..."

He took her hand and rose, using only his own strength and making no pull on her. He was though, if he was honest, rather...he wasn't sure what he was but he was something to hold her bare hand. It was, for one thing, an honour but...

Anthony cleared his throat and smiled then let go of her hand, looking a little flustered. It was, perhaps for the first time, a clear sign to the Queen that he might be, for all his holiness, a man like any other and just as easily affected by a beautiful woman.

"T-tea, yes, lovely. A fine idea," he nodded then glanced at her arm and bit his lip briefly, unsure whether he should offer to hold her arm and escort her. It was, after all, what gentleman did at court but he was a priest. Would it look bad? He decided to do nothing, it would be safer.

He laughed though when she asked about Christmas at the Foundling Hospital as they left her rooms. "Oh, it was a rather grim affair, Majesty. Nothing like your own childhood Christmases I am sure! It was very much a time to...well, thank our betters." He sighed softly. "Each of us were given a penny. Even now I am baffled as to why. We had nowhere to go to spend it, nor anything to spend it on. I remember, the day I left, on the walk to the seminary, I gave all my pennies, I had 16 of them, to the first beggar I came across."

He smiled again, "Still, it was not all grim, if I am honest. There was an extra slice of bread at supper, and we had potatoes and corned beef for dinner. There was, every few years, even custard. There was the tableau too; a display of the nativity, silent, and the children just stood still but they had lovely costumes. It was a great honour to be chosen. Some children, those with parents still living, would receive visitors and might be given a toy solider or doll, if their parents could afford it, but most could not. In any case, within a week the toys would have been taken from them, either by another child or the nurses or doctors."

They strolled down the elegantly decorated hallway, admiring the garlands and pots of vivid red flowers. "As for the seminary, it was a time of prayer and fasting, not grand feasts and so on." He glanced at her and nodded, "I would love though, to hear about your childhood Christmases, Ma'am. I imagine they are far more cheering memories than my own."