the_seafarer | (no subject)

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It's a rather lovely day in Ambergeldar. Perhaps a bit hot, and the flowers he wanders past in the garden a bit dry, but the sky is a sunny bowl of blue and the wind is cool against his face, and he is so pleased to be here that he puts his hands in his pockets and whistles a bit as he walks.

It hadn't been hard to convince Marta to let him take Merry out for playtime; he'd pointed out, truthfully, that he hasn't yet had enough time with the boy to make up for the years missed, so he'd spent a delightful morning talking with his nephew and building unrefined but surprisingly sturdy fortresses out of blocks, and going to the orchard to see if any apples were ripe (they weren't, but that didn't stop them looking).

But he'd taken Merry back to the nursery a few moments ago, smiling at the weight of a sleepy head on his shoulder and at the way his nephew curled into himself when he was laid carefully down in bed. Now, there isn't anything for him to do, in particular, until Amy is free, and he'd assured her he can take care of himself.

Perhaps if he had a three-volume novel, he might sit for a while and read; as it is, he finds himself wandering through the gardens, looking with faint interest at the blooming flowers. They're quite pretty, though hardly anything he knows anything about.

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Word gets around quickly at Court.

And the word getting around the Court today is that the Queen's mysterious brother has arrived for a visit.

Lady Helena saw him earlier today. She says she's ever so very dashing and handsome.

And now there's a dashing, handsome man that Lady Cecily Carr-D'eux has never seen before out walking in the garden.

Could it be?

Lady Cecily sweeps a curtsey.

"Good afternoon, my lord."

He turns, hand still outstretched from where he'd been reaching to look at one of the flowers.

Very pretty, but not a patch on King Hulderbrand's onion patch for dedicated care. Probably because Perry doesn't have anything like the Amy's father's passion for gardening.

The girl in front of him is very pretty, very blonde, and she seems quite nice, so Caspian, drilled in court manners since he was a child, returns her curtsey with his second best bow (the first best being reserved for Important State Functions).

"And a fair day to you, my lady," he says, smiling at her as he straightens. "I had not realized I had company. Pray, forgive me."

"Of course, though truthfully, I cannot say that so slight a trifle could properly be said to require forgiving.

"And I do hope you won't think me dreadfully forward, as we have not been introduced, but there's no one here to introduce us, and I do so like to know people's names when I am speaking to them."

How else can she properly record their conversations in her diary?

"I am Lady Cecily Carr-D'eux."

"Perhaps not," he says, lightly, before reaching out to the pretty little pink flower he'd been noticing before and plucking it. The grin he gives her as he offers it to her is boyish and amused.

"But even the smallest slights ought to be repaid."

She has an oddly earnest way of speaking that reminds him a little of Amy's garrulous friends, Anne and Philippa, and he shakes his head, dropping his hands back to his pockets to stand easily after handing her the little blossom.

"It's a pleasure, Lady Cecily. My name is Caspian. Jolly good of you to introduce yourself like this, I've been away quite a long time and I daresay I don't know most of the court members here."

Cecily's smile gets radiantly bright as she takes the flower.

"You're Caspian," she says. "Oh, I did think you might be. I know almost all of the court members here and I hadn't seen you before.

"Oh, it is good to finally meet you. I was starting to think I never would."

"It's been a long time since I was in Ambergeldar regularly," he tells her, but he tips his head to give her a faintly bemused look.

Why would she care if she ever met him?

"I'm very glad to make your acquaintance," he tells her, "but I can't imagine how you might have known of me all that well before. Are you and the Queen quite close?"

"Well, ever since the Queen first mentioned that she had a brother called Caspian, you of course have formed the one of the chief topics of conversation between myself and the other ladies of the Court."

Him and hats.

"I feel quite as if I have known you for ages."

"Ah, I see," he says, uncertainly.

He doesn't. It's been a long time since Caspian has been around court gossip.

Lady Cecily, however, hardly seems to think anything odd of it, so he lifts his eyebrows at her, quizzical.

"I fear that I am far less interesting in person than in rumor." He pauses, considers her for a second.

"Did you say, since she mentioned she had a brother named 'Caspian?' Is my name so odd?"

"Oh, I shouldn't say odd at all.

"It's quite distinctive, though.

"And there's something about the name that seems to inspire absolute confidence.

"Shall we walk?"

"Not to me," he says, cheerfully. "I'm the tenth. My family's all Caspians, all the way back."

He's the last, however. There's something to be said for getting in a new name, once in a while.

That's an odd thing to say, though, and he frowns, slightly, in confusion, unsure how to respond but unwilling to contradict a lady. "I suppose, though I can't imagine why."

At least Lady Cecily seems very pleasant, if a somewhat strangely interested in his name, so he nods and steps to walk alongside her. Manners, of course, dictate he not walk in silence, so he thinks for a moment for something to say.

"Have you ... been at court long?"

"Just since Christmas," Cecily says.

"My guardian decided that I should spend some time at court. I grew up out in the country.

"And I have to say, I find court to be absolutely delightful. You meet such interesting people."

"And do you prefer court to the country?"

She seems sweet, and if she's been at court such a short time, perhaps that explains her enthusiasm, so he smiles over at her.

"You certainly seem to have found a place here," he tells her. "I'm rather fond of this place myself, but then, I have a sister and a brother-in-law to visit, along with their children." His grin quirks. "It's been rather a long while since I've been a proper part of any court at all."

"Oh, yes," Cecily says. "There's hardly anything to do at all in the country. And there's ever so much to do here.

"What's kept you so long from court, if I may ask? I shouldn't like to be away from court at all."

Especially not now that he is finally here.

"I can imagine there's far more for a lady such as yourself here," he says, gallant, though his smile fades, slightly, at her question.

It quirks again, as he looks ahead to the path, but it's wry, and doesn't reach his eyes.

"I'm afraid I was called away. To war." He looks back to her, smile flashing apologetically, and reaches to rub the back of his neck, the shadow dropping away instantly.

"Hardly a nice topic for such a lovely day and such a pleasant walk with pleasant company, I fear."

"Well, the important thing is that you've returned safely. And that you weren't maimed or disfigured while you were away. That would have been so tragic.

"Though, of course, I don't want you to think for even a moment that I would have deserted you in your hour of need.

"Oh, I am so glad you're here.

"It's really been dreadfully awkward without you."

He glances at her, more confused than ever. "Thank you?" he hazards. "But my own personal safety was hardly my greatest concern."

It's what she says next, though, that really grabs his attention, and he stops walking, that frown furrowing deeper between his brows.

"Awkward, Lady Cecily?"

It's a tone Amy would recognize as one he uses when they are all eyeball-deep in Bar-related madness and he's decided that someone ought to be reasonable, because no one else is making a lick of sense.

"My...hour of need?"

"If you'd come back maimed or disfigured," she explains, cheerfully. "I'd have stayed by your side, so you needn't worry about that.

"Though I am very glad that your hour of need turned out to be, well, unneeded."

"I think there's been some sort of confusion," he says, eying her a little warily.

Well, there has. Mostly his.

He shifts, gives her a dubious look. "We've never met before." It seems like a strange sort of thing to have to point out, but there it is.

"You could hardly have stayed by my side if you weren't there to begin with."

Isn't that how these things work?

"Of course not, silly," Lady Cecily says. "That's one of the reasons I'm ever so glad you're here now.

"I was just thinking this morning that it really was dreadful of you to stay away so long, but since you were gone for such a noble reason, and since you're here now, I've decided I can't possibly be upset about it.

"Still, I do hope you're not planning to go away again."

"Dash it all," Caspian says, quite forgetting his manners in his bewilderment, and faintly stung both by being called "silly," of all things, and by the fact that when she says noble reason it has quite a different ring than when Amy or Marian offered a similar opinion.

Amy and Marian talk sense, at least. "What on earth do you mean"

She seems to be under some sort of misapprehension, but he's at a loss as to exactly what.

Edited 2012-02-22 03:09 (UTC)

"Well, it is always painful to part from people whom one has known for a very brief space of time. The absence of old friends one can endure with equanimity. But even a momentary separation from anyone to whom one has just been introduced is almost unbearable," Cecily says.

"And considering that we have been engaged these past three months, and that I only met you to-day for the first time, I think it is rather hard that you should even think about leaving me so soon."

Perry's Aunt Hedwig would approve. This particular engagement is certainly coming upon this particular young man as a surprise.

"Engaged?"

He stares at her.

"For the last three months?"

He's really quite certain that isn't true.

"Of course. Three months today, in fact.

"It's all right; I understand men always forget anniversaries."

"Lady Cecily," he says, firmly, "we are most certainly not engaged. I've never seen you before in my life!"

"You need hardly remind me of that, Caspian. I remember only too well that I was forced to propose for you.

"It was such a beautiful day, too. I woke up that morning worn out by your entire ignorance of my existence. So I determined to end the matter one way or the other, and after a long struggle with myself I accepted you under this dear old tree here.

"The next day I bought this little ring in your name, and this is the little bangle with the true lover’s knot I promised you always to wear.

"I can show you all the entries in my diary, if you like. To say nothing of your letters."