As the tea was poured Arabella reached out, extending her arm most gracefully, gloved fingers gently straining to clasp the tea cup, now delightfully warm within them. The Queen would make effortless this simple act, with which she raised the cup to her lips and drank, feeling the warmth travel from her mouth downwards toward her core. This moment was bliss, to simply drink her tea, unblemished with milk or sugar, to bask in the company of her own sister and dare she even say, a friend in Alice. It seemed almost impossible to think this was something that she would ever have the freedom of doing.
Arabella thought herself in this moment not to be a terribly good wife. Indeed, she watched not her lips, and allowed secrets to flow. The kind that in the right circumstances could haunt her, or more precisely, haunt her husband. For a moment Arabella wondered if she truly had any morals at all, or now was simply playing the long game, the game which had only one true objective: survival.
"It's terribly clever isn't it? What could a man so indebt deny you? God's favor aside. Is it not simple human nature?" No matter how hard Arabella fought against the notion that a man so wicked and cruel as her husband could be God's chosen on this earth, it was forever ingrained this way of thinking. She was defying God, when she defied her husband. He was the King, and she was an object of his affection, an affection that could be ever so fleeting. "That is all to say, not only does he allow it, he encourages it."
Alice seemed understanding, if not somewhat perplexed. The games of court were relatively easy to understand, easy to see through, but it seemed beyond her. Why did people need to toy with each other in such a manner? "It is all as you said, let my words only serve as affirmation of your clever, clever mind." The Queen couldn't help but smile. "I imagine father would be quite proud of you, how far you've come." It was true, Arabella knew that their father taught his youngest daughter only enough to survive, but he feared she would amount to little, knowing he had two daughters, it seemed only possible that one thrive. How the tables had turned.
"Do you still think of him, your father?" Alice asked, eyes deeply focused on the Queen, but from the corners, oh from the corners did she watched her mistress and how her face would change.
"Not as much as I probably should. I don't think I appreciated what he was trying to do. What he was trying to teach me, to teach us. He was larger than life, full of light, and stories and love... but also a horrible cruelty." That was something Arabella had largely blocked out, but perhaps that was where the answers truly lay. "Good heavens, no, he never laid a finger on either of us..." That was true, but the memories of being locked away when she disobeyed, locked away when her humanity shined through ever too much to be welcomed. The same man who covered up a death at the hands of his daughter was warm and loving, but as always, as ever, had secrets.
"Enough of that. Let us prepare, we are to visit the Foundling Hospital next. It will be nigh on impossible not walk out with all of this children." A small laugh. In reality the thought of the place made Arabella deeply uncomfortable and incredibly depressed. There were so many wonderful children, left alone by cruel fate or circumstance, who only were in want of a good home. Even as she struggled for years, unable to provide a child, one of those eager and deserving darlings would never be an option. So many children, but no, Arabella had to birth her own. The only good heir was a blood heir.
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