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Chapter Text

Upon arrival at Button House Estate, it was clear to anyone of note that Stephanie Button had worked hard to turn things around. While one might be predisposed to try and keep their general dislike of the residence, (due to the nature of which Lady Fanny inherited the home) it was not uncommon for visitors to end up with a particular fondness for the house and grounds before leaving. They would then, therefore, plan to one day visit again. 

Button House was a grand home based in England, Surrey. A county to the west of the country. The house itself was surrounded by a multitude of fields and won awards for being the finest house in the county on more than a few occasions: a vote which had nothing to do with Lady Fanny Button's role as head of the local committee. 

As beautiful as the house was, it was also currently, and most unfortunately, subject to a most indecorous scandal. 

The previous owner, Sir George Button, was last seen with an abundant amount of luggage, necessitating many a car and footman to help move. It was also rumoured that while he had his butler and groundskeeper in tow, his leave of the home was a matter of permanence and he had left his wife Stephanie to take over ownership of the grounds.

This rumour, while initially only a matter of heresy to the people of the nearby village, was in fact made a clear declaration without falsity due to a letter penned and signed by Sir George Button himself. 

Lady Fanny’s legal advisor, one Mr Julian Fawcett, was very concerned with the word ‘asset.’ He was after all, technically, Sir George’s lawyer. His contract of clientele was registered to whoever owned Button House. Though it was also made clear, by the twenty five page long letter, that now the title of owner fell to Fanny herself. So Mr Fawcett now endeavoured to ensure Stephanie had the best legal protection. He promptly moved into one of the rooms in the east wing for a temporary, but unknown amount of time. His valet, a man known as Robin, came along too. 

The local journalists swarmed the gates as they planned to report on the absurdity of Sir George’s departure. Suddenly the owner of Button House, and the village, was a woman. A fact that, for whatever nonsensical reason, caused an awful uproar. Lady Stephanie Button was certainly not the first female landowner in the county, but the circumstances of which she was handed the title spurred feelings of turmoil among many. 

The beginning of May marked three months after the initial shock of it all. The weather turned warmer and the days were longer. It was also at this time that the endless streams of reporters finally left, moving on to the next big story. 

Though it was certainly quieter at Button House, the effects of such a scandal still hung over everybody there. Stephanie was used to hosting large parties with hundreds of people, but now it seemed many chose to stay away. Fawcett reassured her that it was only for a little while, to which she quipped, “yes you said your stay would be too.” 

Though in truth she was rather thankful for the man’s presence in the home. Despite his crude humour the lawyer had made her laugh more than George ever had, and she found herself less concerned with what would be considered unbecoming of a lady. 

Besides Fawcett and his valet Robin, the only other people living at the large house were the two members of staff brave enough to stay under the shadow of such opprobrium. The staff who remained were cooks, Mary and Annie. Stephanie had not been surprised by this at all, for her cooks were two of the most headstrong people she knew and rivalled that of the minds in the upper class. The only other person to remain in the house was the orphan girl by the name of Jemima, whom Lady Button had fostered two years before after finding her trying to sleep on a bench on a public footpath not too far from the edge of the estate.  

“At least it’s calmed down now, ey?” Julian said over breakfast one day. 

“Yes, quite.” Fanny says, thanking Robin as he serves tea. She was very thankful for the lawyer's valet, for he had readily taken on the role of butler in the absence of her own. It was unlikely someone would want to work at a house that had recently suffered ill reproach, and Fanny was not yet ready to hire any new staff.

“Just in time for my niece's visit too,” she added, a smile gracing her lips as she thought about her late brother’s daughter, Lady Katherine Higham. 

“She is supposed to be celebrating her birthday here isn’t she?” 

“It will give me the greatest joy to see her become two-and-twenty.” [22]

“Do you think a party is plausible?” Julian asks. The scowl from the older woman compelled him to add, “I merely mean with a lack of staff.” 

“Won’t everybody bring their own?” Stephanie says, “I think it rather outlandish to arrive expecting more than a banquet and games. We will utilise their valets and lady’s maids as comparable to Robin here.” She gestures to Robin who stands by the door to the room. 

Julian doesn’t withstand the circumduct roll of his eye. He does manage to resist commenting on how one’s homosexual husband running off with a member of the staff is much more disreputable than one not bringing their own staff member to a dinner party.

“Do you know how many will be coming?” Julian asks, dipping some bacon into his egg yoke before bringing it to his lips. 

If someone had asked Lady Button three months ago, (before George’s great escapade) she would have been planning for at least a party of ten and ninety. [100] Now, with a slight sadness, she felt her heart heavy. 

To be invited to celebrations of one’s peers was usually a highlight on everyone’s social calendar. Stephanie thought it rather cruel then, that even if she were to advertise her ladyship's birthday, the event was already a victim of ignominious defeat. This was because nobody who wasn’t already close to Lady Katherine, would risk the consequences of attending a social occasion at a location fresh from the wounds of scandal. 

There would not be any extra patrons to this party, and it would merely be close family and friends of dear Kitty. 

Though it would be pleasant to have such a small gathering, Fanny felt culpable. The notion of a birthday party for a girl like Kitty having a guest list not that dissimilar to that of a family meeting up for a Sunday picnic, was an almost intolerable thought. 

“I think in light of recent events it may be smaller than expected,” she said. It wasn’t that they hadn’t had any guests at Button House at all in the last three months, but Stephanie’s social calendar had almost entirely been stripped away. People of whom she considered her nearest and dearest friends had stopped calling, and it had been ages since she had taken a walk around the grounds with someone who wasn’t Julian Fawcett; this was because the guests who were brave enough to enter her home did not want to run the risk of being pictured outside of it. 

“I know Lady Kitty will likely bring her friends Alison and Mike, and her sister Eleanor may show. Sir Humphrey Bone is attending and has written to say he looks forward to seeing myself and Katherine. Then of course there are my nephews, Patrick and James. They are both rather fond of their cousin and will definitely make an appearance.”

“Is that all?” Julian wipes his brow, “no offence your ladyship but you cannot call that a party, it’s more of a… ‘pa’.” 

“Yes thank you for that rather unhelpful commentary, Julian.” 

“Always here to help!”

In the week following Stephanie continued to make arrangements for what she had promised her niece would be the social event of the season. Though it was not to be as huge and grandiose as it would originally have been, she would still ensure Lady Katherine had a celebration befitting a lady of her status. It was not everyday a lady turned two and twenty [22] after all. 

In the early weeks of June, the first of the guests would arrive for their stay at Button House. While the birthday itself was not until the 29th day of June, it was customary for the closest relatives to spend time together before the main event. 

The 3rd of June saw the arrival of Stephanie’s youngest nephew, Lord Patrick Butcher. A stout man of nine and thirty [39] who always carried a pack of cards in case of - what he called - a ‘boredom emergency’.  Though only related by Stephanie’s half sister being Pat’s grandmother, Lady Fanny still had rather a soft spot for the northern man. He was one of the most likeable landowners in Yorkshire, a real stickler for worker's rights and a true man of the people. The citizens who lived on the land Pat oversaw were very lucky indeed. 

While Fanny could appreciate tradition, for she very much liked the safety of her own financial pedestal, she knew how close she had been to not having any money at all. Her father, the previous king, was a kind man who ensured she as one of his illegitimate children was looked after, but she oft thought about kings of other lands who perhaps wouldn't have been so kind to their mistress's children. 

She, like Lord Patrick, cared about the people who resided in the land they oversaw. Her affection towards her half nephew Lord Patrick significantly increased from the moment he pushed his anti-homelessness campaign. Rather than try to force the homeless people in his land to be homeless elsewhere, he genuinely tried to help those in need. Unlike some of the more evil holds throughout England, Patrick (and Fanny herself) didn’t purposely build anti-homeless structures, and didn’t offer empty promises of support while stealing funding from charities that helped the homeless Lord Patrick took his duty very seriously. It wasn’t a wave of a magic wand but years of sweat and hard work that made Patrick the successful man he is today. The Butchers would spend a month in the county of Surrey, was the only time he took holiday every year, and then he would go back home and continue ensuring everyone residing on his land was thriving happily. 

Today however, Patrick arrived at thirteen hundred hours with his wife Lady Carol Butcher, and their seven year old son Daley at the Button House residence as expected. With them they brought two members of staff: Patrick’s valet Barclay, and (as always at the strange request of Carol) their own butler Morris.

“Ello Lady B, how have you been?” Lord Patrick says as he greets the lady of the house. He holds her hand, shaking it gently before pulling her into a gentle embrace. 

Patrick was one of the few people who got away with hugging Fanny. A fact that rang true for many people throughout the different holds of England. Many would openly hug Lord Patrick and nobody else. This was attributable to his friendly nature and his lack of threatening demeanour, he was often the first friend one would make during a new crowd and the last person to bid you goodnight as he ensured you got home safely. 

“I’m fine thank you,” Fanny said, looking from Pat, to Carol and then to little Daley. “Hello young man,” she said softly to the boy before turning back to the adult company, “I trust the road fared well?” 

“It most certainly did, Stephanie,” Lady Butcher said, “we had a rather pleasant stay at a hotel in Cambridge. I must tell you about the most extraordinary dinner we had there. You will be very jealous.”

Stephanie hummed, feigning a kind smile as the other women spoke. For as much as she adored Pat, she still couldn’t make sense of this marriage arrangement as it approached its year twenty. Fanny wondered if (next week when the pair were to celebrate their two decade anniversary of being wed) they were expecting something special. 

Of course, her adoration for Patrick had already led her to make adequate preparations. Only a week ago she had asked her cooks Annie and Mary if they would bake a special anniversary cake to that effect, but that was strictly for the sake of Patrick because her dislike for Carol Butcher was deeply rooted.

Though this detestment was not unwarranted, for after finding Carol five years prior in the arms of another man who was not her husband it was hard to trust the other woman with Patrick’s heart again. It had been quite a shock to both Fanny who simply wanted to take an early horse ride into town, and the couple who had been caught off guard amongst the hay.

If it wasn’t for Patrick’s own reputation, and coming off as too soft to keep a lady, then perhaps Stephanie would’ve told her nephew.  

Having known Carol since she married Pat when he was nine and ten [19] and Carol herself at one and twenty [21], Stephanie liked to think that this was a momentary blip in their marriage. During the moments following a rather naked man's embarrassing departure from the estate, Lady Butcher had reassured Lady Button that it was merely a moment of misguided passion and that it would not happen again. Fanny had told her quite promptly, that if she was unhappy in her marriage then the very least she could do was remain celibate and focus on the raising of her child, who at the time had only been aged 2.

Carol had hastened to explain how she hoped a child would fix what was wrong with her and Patrick, and Stephanie merely told her to go and make herself look presentable before Sir Patrick and Master Daley returned from their nature walk with Lady Katherine and Sir James. Reminding the brown haired woman that she had a duty as ladyship of the Butcher hold, and that marital problems were for those of lower class. 

Stephanie of course knew how it felt to be in a loveless marriage and was by no means a hypocrite. She had planned to stick by George until the air left her lungs. If she could not find happiness in love then she could at least play the role of dutiful Lady Stephanie of Button House until she may rest in her grave. Though in the end it would appear her marriage to George would suffer a similar fate to that of the Carol Butcher issue. Nevertheless, over the last five years when they saw each other every June, Fanny had not been able to start trusting in Carol again. 

The recent controversy in her own life only reiterated that Carol Butcher's stable affair was a secret worth keeping for the sake of her nephew. Fanny was now aware of the hurt it would cause to bring up events from that summer, and instead chose to continue keeping it secret. She had been hurt by George leaving and she wasn’t even in love with him, so she hated to imagine how much such a betrayal would hurt Patrick who was clearly still in love with his wife.

“Oh yes, it was marvellous!” Patrick said, adding to his wife's comment about their hotel stay. “But let's get settled first ey pet?” Pat placed his hand affectionately on his wife's upper arm.

“Yes of course,” Fanny said, “I’m afraid we are rather short staffed compared to normal.”

“Well that’s perfectly understandable dearest Stephanie,” Carol said, “I can only imagine what with George leaving, and other workers handing in their notices due to-” The words were only cut off when she realised the look she was getting from her husband. 

The nobleman's eyes had widened behind his glasses, and his cheeks were red with embarrassment. He was looking at his wife as though trying to scold her word choice telepathically.

“Oh, sorry Fanny.” Carol said, “I didn’t think.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” says Fanny as she does not wish to cause a scene. Instead, she turns her attention to Robin. “Could you take the Butcher’s horse and carriage to the stable yard please?”

“Yes, my-uh-lady,” says Julian’s right hand man, making his way outside. 

“Oh Barclay can help with that, can’t you Barclay?” Carol says, prompting the valet to follow Robin with a simple nod of the head. “-and Morris can take up our bags,” she continues, “pray tell what room are we staying in Stephanie?” 

Lord Patrick giggles at that, “oh love, same room as always of course!” 

“Yes, the west wing pink room with a double bed and Daley in the adjoining singular,” adds Fanny. 

“Of course,” Carol says, “well Morris you know the way.” This prompts the man to take hold of the Butcher family’s luggage and move through to the next room, making his way to the staircase.

“Father, may I say goodbye to Bumble and Bea?” Daley interrupts from where he’s stood by the door,  watching Robin and Barclay lead the beloved family horses away. 

“Yes of course,” Pat says, “you stick close to Barclay now okay?” 

Daley runs out of the doorway excitedly, extremely happy to be away from the boring conversation etiquette of the adults. 

“Let’s head into the dining room.” Fanny says, “I fear I’ve left Mr Fawcett alone too long.”

The three of them exit the small entryway and move into a large hall. Its elegance is rather striking to anyone who had the opportunity of entering it. With its large white columns and extravagant open fireplace, the room synchronously holds a tone of both cosy and grandeur that would be befitting to that of royalty. A large patterned decorative rug had been laid out over the original stone floor, complimenting the beautiful fauteuil chairs that are seated above it. Passing the small seating area, they make their way to the dining room to which Lady Carol suddenly veers right from.

“I must powder my nose,” she says, leaving only Fanny and Patrick to greet Julian. The dining room is rather modest in comparison to the last room. To the left there is another door that leads to the yellow day room where Fanny likes to read and partake in games, and on the other side of the table is a door leading outside to the first set of gardens. The natural light that comes through the windowed door leaves the room well lit and pleasant enough for one to make conversation without the need for additional lighting.

“Julian,” Stephanie says, causing the lawyer to stand. “You remember Sir Patrick don’t you?”

“Yes, how could I forget?” Julian lets out an unsure polite laugh, for the last time he had a run in with the man it was at the party in June last year and he had been more than slightly intoxicated. A brief memory of drunkenly telling Pat he was stupid and gullible flickered through his mind followed by memories of being in a drunken and naked embrace with Lady Butcher. “Hello again, Sir Patrick.”

“Nice to see you again, Fawcett.” Patrick shakes the hand offered to him kindly and then moves to his seat. The northern man from Yorkshire certainly wasn’t the type to start drama, but then no one in their sort of company would be the sort to. He would not criticise the words of the once inebriated man, and would keep their little squabble a secret, and to that end Julian would keep his secret of having bedded the man’s wife. Patrick could never know as it would disrupt the equilibrium similar to how George's leaving had.

“Ah Mary! Perfect timing as always,” Fanny says as her head cook, playing maid, entered the room with a silver tray of food for luncheon. She was followed by her wife and co-cook Annie who had a tray of both hot and cold drinks. The silver from the trays refracted the natural sunlight beautifully, causing bright shapes to momentarily dance around the room. Much like everything else in the house, the silver trays were genuine articles as opposed to those who owned copper or nickel items that were merely silver coated. It was irrefutable to say that no matter his intention, Mr George (formerly Sir) had left Lady Button with a large fortune; an actuality the journalists had tried to use as a point 

As plates of food ranging from pies and meats to simpler picky foods like crackers and bread with jam were served, Jemima entered the room. Her gown was an exquisite bespoke design made from the finest fabrics, for Fanny only wished the best for her fostered daughter. “Ah, Jemima, Daley had just made his way down to the stables with Robin if you wish to join him.” 

Jemima smiled, nodding to show her agreement. The young girl of nine didn’t speak much, though Fanny had often heard her singing nursery rhymes in the comfort of solitary as the youngsters' boudoir was right next to her own. She wouldn’t force the girl into conversation, heaven knows what she had been through. 

When Jemima had initially arrived two years ago at the age of seven, George, Julian and Fanny herself had done a lot of research into the girl's origins in the hopes they might reunite her with a member of her family. Unfortunately what the three of them had gleaned from their investigations was not for the faint of heart. It seemed Jemima’s family were among the many fatalities of the strange illness that took the lives of several people in the city of London and some surrounding villages. How Jemima had ended up in Stephanie’s hold was a mystery on its own, though the bruises on the girl's bare feet suggested she had walked for miles. George had allowed the girl to stay on the count of her being almost malnourished and an orphan, and while he cared about her it was Fanny who had rather doted on her. She was the daughter now, plain and simple.

The young girl curtsied as her way of saying hello to both Sir Patrick and Mr Fawcett, and gave a quick kiss to Stephanie’s cheek before leaving the room followed by Mary and Annie.

“Still no luck with her speech then?” Patrick says as the door closes. 

“No,” Fanny says, “I shan’t force her either.”  

Pat nods as he cuts up a piece of mutton, “it’ll either come or it won’t. It’s nice to see you and her happy either way.”

Lady Button smiles, grateful for her friendship with Patrick. She’s about to speak once more when Mary re-enters the room. She holds a small silver plate, and Fanny presumes it’s something accidentally missed from the plethora of food on the table.

“Sorrys to interrupt ma’am,” Mary says, “it’s just that's the postman ‘as called.”

It is then that Stephanie notices the small silver plate Mary is holding does not house any food, but instead has a letter placed on it and a small paper knife. A red stamp with Lady Katherine’s initials emboldened in the middle of the wax seal is displayed on the back of the envelope glueing its contents shut. 

“Ah thank you Mary,” Stephanie says with a smile, taking the envelope off of the tray. “This is all the members of our party arriving today,” Lady Button says gesturing to Patrick, “so please feel free to take the rest of the afternoon off, surprise Annie with those trousers we bought her, yes?”

This sees the maid blushing suddenly, though she keeps her professional manner. “What abouts dinner your Ladyship?”

“Oh we’ll dine out tonight Miss Guppy,” she says, “thank you.”

With that Mary takes her leave promptly, off to tell her wife the good news. She loved her job as a cook, but an afternoon with Annie sounded most gratifying.

“A letter from Lady Katherine,” Fanny says to the gentleman at the table before opening up the envelope. She does this by sliding the knife through the paper so eloquently, as opposed to Patrick who would struggle and swear as he forced the knife through the paper. Mr Fawcett on the other hand would simply forgo the knife and rip the envelope open.

“Oh the birthday girl!” Pat says with a slight giggle at the mention of one of his favourite nieces, “I can’t believe it’s this time of year again already. I remember when she was…well a young girl.”

“Yes I believe she was eight when I first met her,” Julian says, “I have never known a girl to like dance so much. She used to dance a lot with my Rachel.”

“How is Rachel?” Pat asks. He hadn’t seen the Fawcett daughter for years but he knew she continued to reside in London at her father's home. “Will she be coming to Kitty’s birthday bash?”

Even as she read her letter from Kitty Fanny afforded Patrick an eye roll and a dramatic sigh, the term ‘birthday bash’ was rather improper.

Julian giggled, moving his finger across his throat in a cutting motion and sticking his tongue out.

Pat smirked at that, especially when Fanny stomped on his shoe under the table.

“Ow!”

“Don’t be so impudent then, Julian.”

Julian simply waves her off with a nonsensical noise before turning to Patrick. “No she’s not coming, unfortunately,” he says concerning Rachel, “she’s very busy you see and-”

“Oh my!” Fanny exclaims under her breath as she reads her letter.

“What is it?” Patrick asks, “is everything alright?”

“Well it seems…” Lady Button briefly examines the letters' contents once more, her eyes moving over every letter as though burning them into her retina.

Dearest Aunt Fanny, 

It is with such delight that I write to you, for I am very much looking forward to seeing you again. It seems like forever since our dinner in January, and so much has happened since. In relation to your last letter I must say dearest aunt that I am not at all ashamed of you or that of Button House. Uncle George’s scandal will not add hinder to our celebrations of my party, and I do not worry what anyone might think! I have always thought of my June’s at your home as my most favourite destination and I will continue to do so. I so look forward to seeing you and everybody else again. 

As I turn two and twenty and my study’s of dance soon complete, I am to rejoice in all the positives that have commenced. I believe that you too could take a lesson from this auntie, for where there is heartbreak there are wonderful new beginnings for you. 

As always I will be attending Button House with my closest friend Lady Alison Cooper and Sir Mike Cooper. I thank you, as I do every year, for allowing me to bring them with me and for of course always willingly hosting a month of party. I long to be in the day room playing games, and to spend an eve in your cosy library. 

At last minute I have a request from you, and although this letter may not reach you in time for you to answer properly I hope it is not an impotence on my part. During my dance study I have met many nice people, including that of Mr Anthony Havers. He too longs for the stage and study’s song and dance the same as I. Normally for the summer months I know he vacations with his sister, but his plans have not come to fruition this year and therefore I have offered for him to join me and the Coopers at Button House. I do hope it is okay I bring him with me, he is such a sweet fellow and I am sure you will like him. 

I hope this letter finds you well. All my love. 

Kitty Higham xxx

“Yes…” Fanny says, putting down the letter. “I do believe our dear Kitty is bringing along a potential suitor.”

“Oh that’s fantastic news!” Patrick says, “do you think I could walk her down the aisle?”

“I think you might be jumping the gun a bit there, Patrick.” Fanny frowns at him, for her nephew was sweet but got incredibly excited very quickly.

“When isn’t he?” Julian mutters as Patrick goes back to talking about weddings. 

The door to the room swings open once more and Carol walks in, moving around the room to take her spot next to her husband. “What’s all this?” she says.

“Kitty is bringing a suitor,” Pat says, his expression happy as he was rather chuffed for his niece.

“Really?” Carol says, looking at Fanny and Julian.

“Well she didn’t quite say-” Lady Button’s words were lost as Julian spoke. 

“Oh yeah,” it was as though the lawyer hadn’t heard Fanny speaking at all as he began his ramble. “What is she now? One and twenty, nearly two. Of course she would be bringing home a boy now.”

“What is his name, Fanny?” Patrick asks, "did she say?"

She picks up the piece of paper and glances at the bottom of the letter again, “Mr Anthony Havers.”

“What a handsome name,” Carol says, “is he of nobility?”

Fanny simply puts the letter back down on the table, thinking to herself that it was typical of Carol to first start thinking about what kind of money the boy had. That was probably the only reason she was truly with Patrick in the first place. “She didn’t write about that, though I’m sure we will have plenty of time to get to know him when he gets here.”

“When are they due to arrive?” Julian says after taking a sip from his glass of fizz.

“Tomorrow,” says Fanny, “they should be here tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

His footsteps are loud against the gleaming white marble tiles as he quickly makes his way towards his father's throne room, clutching a piece of paper in a tight fist as he goes. The tapping of his shoes reverberating through the large empty hall was only witnessed by two knights who stood straight in their burnished armour, causing the men to sweat terribly and for the man’s angry expression to be reflected back at him. He rounds the corner like a car on a race track and is met by the entry point to the Grandmaster's throne room.

Upon seeing the doors shut his anger multiples twofold. A huffy exhale leaves the Prince’s mouth, and the bristles of his moustache are battered by expelled air. 

“M’lord,” says a third knight who stood by the entrance itself. “His Majesty is meeting with some Landowners and has instructed me to-”

“Stand aside, Giles.” 

“Yes, sir.”

The knight moves away from the tall silver doors, opening one of them as he does and bowing to Prince James.

The Prince’s presence in the room causes those within to turn curiously, the King himself is draped over his throne and scowling at his son over the turned heads of his people. 

“What is this?!” James yells. He’s wasting no time on pleasantries like he usually would due to his fit of rage. 

“Please forgive my son’s rude interruption,” the Grandmaster says, his scowl now turning into a small smile as he feigns a more understanding demeanour. “He’s had a spot of bad news this morning,” he continues, “I hope you can see past his wrongful intrusion.”

The Prince scoffs as his father leaves his seat and takes hold of his escort's hand to descend the stone steps leading up to the red and gold throne. 

“It’s no worry, your eminence,” says one of the hold owners. “We would be happy to come back at a time more suitable.”

“Nonsense! You have already travelled all this way,” the King says. Then he clicks at his escort and points to the brown door secreted to the left hand side of the room. “I shall join in a moment.”

“Of course sire,” says the same hold owner, who along with the others was swiftly making their way out of the room following the King's escort.

James doesn’t wait for the landowners to leave, immediately walking towards his father and thrusting the letter into the Grandmaster's chest. “I sincerely hope this has been a misunderstanding!” 

“Now, now, my child.”

“Don’t condescend me!” James shouts, his angry words causing saliva to gather at the sides of his mouth as he breathes through his teeth. The Prince felt betrayed by his father like he was about to be thrown into the lion's den without a second thought. The pain caused by his father’s agreement to something so unjust and without consulting him first was too great of an emotion for James to keep at bay.

He steps back, spinning on his heel as he rakes his fingers through his salt and pepper hair, the frustration of it all bubbling inside him but the words he had planned to say on the way down here seem to desert him. He begins, “don’t you-”

“Wait,” the King cuts him off, his tone low and bitter. His eyes are like daggers piercing into his son, even with three feet between them it feels dangerous but the Prince doesn’t back down. The pair stare at each other as though about to initiate a western showdown. Their guns are at the ready, big brimmed hats are tilted to shade their eyes from the sun and a tumbleweed rolls past as the wind sweeps at their feet. 3…2…1…

The door slams shut. 

The Grandmaster wastes no time stepping towards his son. “How. Dare. YOU! Who do you think you are, embarrassing me like that!?” His voice is authoritative and stern. “I may be your father, but I am still your king.”

“Yeah,” James says, “and I can tell it’s gone right to your head.”

“I beg your pardon?” The King looks his son up and down.

“Grandfather would not stand for this,” James says as he snatches the letter back from his father’s grasp and shakes the offending paper in his grip for emphasis. “He never would have considered doing this to you!”

“Which is exactly why we are in the position we are in,” says the Grandmaster, “like you my father was too soft.” 

“Soft?!”

“Yes, James. Soft!” he says. This will benefit everybody, it’s an end to the war for fuck sake.”

James groans and runs his hand over his face, “surely…surely there must be another way. You cannot expect me to…”

“It’s the perfect solution. We’re in agreement with the French holds.”

“Well, I’m glad that the one thing both countries can agree on is playing dollhouse with my love life.”

“Don’t be pedantic James, it doesn’t suit you, and what love life? You’re still without a partner at five and forty [45], at least this way will ensure a quicker arrival of an heir to the throne.”

“Oh I see what this is really about.”

“You need to continue the lineage, James!” The King steps backwards, heading towards the brown door from which his guests had departed. “The throne is your birthright and even if you are wayward I expect you to fulfil your duty.”

“Not like this father, please.” James' tone softens a little, his face crestfallen. “Just give me more time. I haven’t even met Princess Sophie.”

“I’ve given you time James.” The King says, “I know…” He breathes out and places his hands on his hips, his purple cloak falling behind him as he does so. “I know like your mother you are quite the… romanticist. I had hoped you would find a man you wish to marry, and I have given you plenty of opportunities to find love. Countless balls, dinner parties, we’ve always partaken greatly in the social season.”

“Then give me more time!”

The King raises his palm to silence his son. “You have a duty to fulfil now, James, this… this will be a good thing. I’m sure you will come to love the Princess in due time, I hear she is rather intelligent and witty.”

“But Father-”

“Enough,” his father says, and for a brief second a look of sadness flickers over the old man's face before resuming its cold expression. “You will marry Princess Sophie, and the war between us and the French can finally be put to rest.”

“No…”

“Your heir will be able to claim both the English and French holds,” the Grandmaster continues, “think of how rich and powerful they will be and find comfort in that.”

“But Father you… you know I don’t love women in that way. I- I would be living a lie. Mother would hate that for me, she won’t be able to rest easy in her grave if she watched my life play out so… so needlessly.”

His father steps over to him, the slow footsteps echoing in a room that feels a lot colder than it had moments before. “Your duty comes above all else my son,” he says as he brings a hand to his son's face. “For what it’s worth… I am sorry you haven’t met a man you intend to marry, I know romance is something important to you, as it was your mother.” The King lets out a breath, his hands moving behind his back. 

He had been incredibly lucky to find love with his Queen, it wasn’t unheard of in high society but for a royal, it was especially rare. The Grandmaster landowner was expected to guide the landowners throughout the land, and to do that one did not need love. However, the love he had for James’s mother benefited them both greatly as it was easier to run a country with somebody to love at their side. He did feel sorry for his son, but they had to think about their commitment to the holds of England.

 “Besides,” the Grandmaster continues, “a King can have mistresses, now I know it’s not what you want-”

“No, no Father it is not.” James can feel tears brimming in his eyes as his future is laid out before him.  “But this marriage is for the good of the people, James. What matters more to you? The happiness of many, and ending this war. Or the happiness of you and the continued suffering of our people?”

As simply as that a metaphorical sword is driven into his heart and turned aggressively, twisting his insides as he cries blood onto the floor. It takes everything in him to not fall then and there, his head fuzzy as he starts to feel rather faint. 

To recognise his father's words he nods, an unspoken acceptance of duty.

“Go rest, and make sure to write back to the French Grandmaster, she will be your mother in-law after all and I expect you to make a good impression upon her.”

“Yes, father.”

His father leaves through the brown food at the side of the room, following the hold owners who had left moments ago. 

Alone in the throne room, he sucks in a heavy breath, his lungs gasping for air but it’s not enough. The tears that wobble in his tear ducts don’t stand much chance as he wipes them away. He must not cry. Not now. Perhaps later in the comfort of his bedroom, but certainly not when any servant or knight could happen upon him.

He looks down at the letter, unfolding it and scanning his eyes over the contents once more. 

Prince James, 

C'est avec une telle joie que je t'écris, mon cher futur gendre. Les arrangements que j'ai pris avec votre père me rassurent sur le fait que tant les Français que les Anglais peuvent espérer un avenir heureux et prospère. Je suis heureux de voir la fin des combats et je vous félicite de vous battre avec autant de courage. Je suis heureux de mettre cette guerre derrière nous. Les journaux du 5 juin annonceront que la guerre est officiellement terminée, même si les deux camps ont déjà rappelé leurs navires. 

Ce sera une joie pour les gens de vous voir vous marier avec la princesse Sophie. C'est un mariage qui sera bénéfique à tous. D'après ce que j'ai compris, vous êtes occupé avec des engagements antérieurs en juin, mais j'espère que nous pourrons convenir d'une date pour que vous veniez à Versailles et discutiez du mariage en juillet.

J'ai hâte de vous rencontrer, jeune homme.

Sa Majesté la Reine de France

English Translation: 

Prince James, 

It is with such joy that I write to you, my dear future son-in-law. The arrangements I have made with your father reassure me that both the French and the English can hope for a happy and prosperous future. I am happy to see the end of the fighting and I congratulate you for fighting with such courage. I'm happy to put this war behind us. Newspapers on June 5 will announce that the war is officially over, even though both sides have already recalled their ships.

It will be a joy for people to see you marry Princess Sophie. It’s a marriage that will benefit everyone. From what I understand, you are busy with prior commitments in June, but I hope we can arrange a date for you to come to Versailles and discuss the wedding in July.

I look forward to meeting you, young man.

Her Majesty the Queen of France

The walk back to his room seemed to exist outside of time, as though the world were on pause. He felt similar to an ethereal being, floating through the corridors back towards his bedchamber with the eyes of his ancestors watching him from their painted prose. He thought about the contents of the letter as they whirled around helplessly in his head. This was not the future he wanted, and there seemed to be no other way. This was what he would have to do. Suddenly the thought of ever finding a man he loved one day was ripped from him, and by his own father nonetheless. His life was not really his own life alone, and on some level, he had always understood that. He had accepted the lack of freedom and accepted the responsibilities of a Prince and future King from the time he was a young boy. The Prince knew to be grateful for the family he had been born into. It was with great dismay now, however, that he wished to have been born somewhat differently. Was all the luxury worth it if he would never be entitled to love? He was safe, extremely, but what was the point of it all if there was no reason for him to stay safe beyond mere survival? Everybody deserved more than merely surviving, and as King, he would be able to help ensure that. When it was his turn to take over as Grandmaster he would be able to help the people of the land so much more.  As much as it hurt him, and as much as it made his heart sore, his father was right about one crucial fact. The happiness of the many outweighs the happiness of his own by far. He had to marry Princess Sophie. 

As he reached his room he still felt as though he were not completely real. The isolation from one's own reality was a dangerous endeavour and it popped into his mind that he must seek aid from the royal doctor when he had a moment. Perhaps if nothing, the good doc could prescribe something to help him sleep well because the whole marriage ordeal was sure to play on his mind.

Twisting the round brass door knob he steps inside his bedroom, and is not surprised to see his best friend Sir Humphrey Bone laid back on the cushion nestled in one of the large oriel bay windows that overlooked the castle gardens. This was where he would normally expect to find Humphrey, because his best friend habitually was not too different from that of a cat. The window was a nice place to sit and soak in the sun, and while the Captain would not reach out and stroke soft warm fur, he could expect a visit from his friend come the afternoon when the sun shone over the west side of the house. 

“Good afternoon,” Humphrey says, turning to face him. He places his sketchbook beside him and places his black chalk atop it. “I hope you don’t mind me coming in.”

“I never do old friend,” James says with a small smile, making his way over to his dresser and putting down the letter. 

“Thank you,” Humphrey says, smiling as he grabs a slice of cheese off of the silver plate of snacks beside him, “one of the maids came with some nibbles.  I made sure they didn’t go to waste.”

James smirks at that, looking at the half eaten plate next to his brown-haired friend. “I can see that,” he chuckles sadly. There’s a sadness in his eyes, but he is grateful for Humphrey’s visitation. It reminded him that he at least had the love of friendship. He moved towards the man, moving to sit in the armchair he usually sat in when he would converse with his best friend. 

“I have to tell you something,” he says. It would be better to get it over with, the Prince thinks, to tell people now before the marriage was announced publicly. It was undetermined whether or not the marriage between himself and Princess Sophie was going to be the official reason for the war's end, though James also knew people were smart enough to put two and two together and would likely figure out that particular reason on their own.

“Oh?” Humphrey says, raising one of his eyebrows, “what's that then?” 

“My father… he has decided I am now an engaged man.”

“You…you are?” Humphrey’s face scrunched together as he processed this piece of information. The creases of his frown were an odd and rare sight for such a happy-go-lucky guy like him. He patted his lips together, as though he would find sense somewhere in the touch of his lips meeting. It wasn’t that he was against his friend getting married, no, not at all. In fact, he wanted to see the Prince happy, and was very much looking forward to the day he would be asked to be the best man (because who else would it be?). No, what confused him wasn’t the marriage itself but by the sudden unexpectedness of which it arose. James, the gentle soul that he was, was very much inclined in the ways of romanticism. Some were, and some were not, and while Humphrey didn’t understand the science of why some people liked romance and others didn’t, he could safely bet on a picture of James being under the definition of ‘romantic man’ for certain. There had been men that had gained the Prince’s affections on a few occasions, some simply passing flights of fancy, and others where Humphrey had witnessed the Prince falling head over heels (sometimes literally) for a gent who would inevitably reveal themselves to only be with James for his stature as Prince and break the poor man's heart.

As it currently stood, at least to Humphrey’s knowledge (of which he liked to think he was well informed), Prince James had not been courting anyone. Then there was the wording, the Grandmaster had ‘decided’ James was engaged? That couldn’t be right at all. Surely not. Not when the King himself had married for love and knew how important it was for James to marry for love too. 

“Are you…happy about that?” Humphrey asks him, though he had already guessed that the other man was definitely not happy about it. There was no excited glint in his eye that the Prince usually got when he was happy about something, and there was no bubbly bounce that the Prince usually did when he was trying to keep himself composed about said excitable things.

The Prince sighs, leaning back on his chair and grabbing his pipe off of the nearby dresser. “It doesn’t matter… I…” he fiddles with the pipe in his hands anxiously, “I have to, whether I want to or not.”

Humphrey thought on that a moment, bringing his fingers up to the edge of his moustache and twiddling the edge before licking his lips and deciding to sit forward. “I know you have a shit ton of responsibility James… but surely… your father isn’t making you get married to someone you don’t love is he?”

The Prince looks at Humphrey through his eyelashes as he continues to angle his head downwards, almost as though he were too exhausted to lift his own head. He just smirks, playing off his hurt as a joke as much as he can. Even in front of Humphrey, he hated to appear vulnerable. A Grandmaster had to be authoritative, strong and stern, and he would be those things. He would. He is… right?

“Oh god is it me?” Humphrey says, clearly reading the Prince’s expression completely wrong. “Because don’t get me wrong Jamey,” he says, “as much as I have enjoyed our times of rustling the sheets in the past we agreed those were just moments of lust, friends helping friends and-”

“It’s not you,” the Prince said before Humphrey continued to over analyse the past of their friendship. Yes, there had been three times (three and a half if you can count a blowjob in the back of a carriage), where James and Humphrey had been in bed with one another. The first time it had been in their early twenties, when Humphrey was questioning his sexual preferences and both were very drunk.

“So did that help at all?” The Prince had said the morning after, laying up against his pillows with a pipe in his mouth as his lover from the night before rested on his chest. 

“I’m not sure,” Humphrey lied, “I guess I need to try it with a clearer head.”

That then led to the second time they had sex. The results were still inconclusive after that because from what Humphrey understood he was obviously very sexually attracted to both but didn’t seem to understand the concept of romance. Which wasn’t helped by having a friend like James who spoke about romance as though it were as simple as the alphabet; though the simplicity of that would be dependent on what alphabet one was using, Humphrey thought. 

Their sexual venture in the carriage had been a result of another drunken mishap, the Prince of one and thirty getting on his knees for his friend after a heartbreak and taking comfort in the feeling of a cock in his mouth. It had been only the month following that the pair would share their final time together, this time not drunk but merely taking advantage of another warm body on a cold morning in February. The snow had been heavy and their plans were foiled by a lack of transportation. 

“God you’re way too good at that,” Humphrey said, laying back on the pillows with a sigh. His hands behind his head as he admired the patterns on the ceiling.

The Prince lay on his side, an arm tucked under a pillow watching his friend carefully. He let out a laugh, his eyes moving to look at the continued snowfall outside his bedroom window and then back to his friend. “Thank you…?” James says, “I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that.”

Humphrey lets out a laugh too, “Thank you will suffice I think, James.” He leans over, grabbing a piece of cheese from the plate on the bedside table, “ooo double gloucester!” 

Their friendship was never affected by their sexual encounters, not negatively anyway. If anything it brought them slightly closer knowing that they could trust one another in such a way. 

“Oh, well I think your father has rather bad taste then.” Humphrey says feigning upset followed by a smirk. He grabs a piece of cheese from the plate by him, nibbling at the edge. “Okay so come on then, who?” Humphrey asks.

“Princess Sophie.”

Sir Bone nearly chokes on the cheese he had been attempting to swallow, “what?” His eyebrows reach for his hairline, becoming slightly lost under the brown curls. “Princess Sophie from… from France?”

“The one and only.”

“But we’re at war with them!”

“Not for long apparently.”

“But that is…! I mean, that’s excellent mate, yeah, but not for the sake of… oh fucking hell.”

“My thoughts exactly,” the Prince lets out a sigh, “but I have to Humph, for the good of the people.”

“I mean… you are part of that collective of people, James.” Humphrey says. He sets the plate of snacks to one side and gets on his knees in front of the Prince. “You deserve to be happy too.”

The royal son doesn’t look up, just simply nods solemnly and focuses his attention on the grooves of his pipe. There was no use fretting about it now, he had been angry for the past half an hour and it hadn’t changed anything, and any continued worry wouldn’t change anything either. He would get married, and begin a role as the husband to the Princess of France. They would sire an heir and their child would have claim to two realms, and that’s all that mattered. James explains this to his friend and Humphrey simply shakes his head, because as much as he understood the obligations that James had to fulfil as a future Grandmaster of England he didn’t like how it came at the cost of the man's happiness.

“So what now?” Humphrey says after the explanation and a short conversation, “The Queen expects you in July, and what, married in August?”

“I can’t say I know.” 

“You’ll take me with you, won’t you? To Versailles?” Humphrey asks, “I’ll need to vet the Princess myself.” 

The Captain lets out a half scoff, half laugh, sort of noise. “I would, but your French is terrible.”

“Well I promise not to talk too much then.”

James laughs, grabbing a cracker from the plate. It was nice that even with his life being planned out ahead of him, he was still able to enjoy silly jokes with his friend. This would help for sure. Where there was a life without romance there was still so much platonic love to go around and he could give that aplenty.

“Okay, as you promise.” James smirks and takes a bite of the cracker. It crunches in his mouth loudly and James turns his nose up at the taste of it, his mouth slowing in his eating motion. He never was a fan of savoury. 

“Eugh, you can have those.” He nods to the tray of crackers and cheese, and instead grabs the bowl of fruit that sat beside it because he much preferred food of a sweeter taste; now that the climate was getting warmer a lot of his favourite fruits would soon be on his dessert and breakfast plates which he definitely looked forward to. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Humphrey puts his feet up once more at the bay window, the platter of snacks on his lap. If this were anybody else they would be scolded for lounging about the palace in such a manner, but Humphrey did not care much for the aristocracy he was born into and the Prince rather liked that he had a friend that didn’t care.

One good thing about Humphrey was he didn’t give one iota about being friends with a Prince, all he cared about was being friends with James. They had known each other from birth, Humphrey’s mother having been best friends with James’s mother, the late beloved English Queen. The two boys had always been as thick as thieves, stealing sweet treats (and in the case of Humphrey: cheese) from the castle kitchens was a shared fond memory between both of them, and the two men had been living together at the castle since Humphrey was aged 12. It was with such sadness that Humphrey came to live here, his mother passed away and he had nowhere else to go because the Bone family was now only him; his father had passed when Sir Humphrey Bone was very young and there were simply no other family members still alive.  It was understandably a very sad day when Lady Bone passed away, and of course, the Grandmaster and his wife would welcome Humphrey into their home. At first it had been temporary, but then as the boy worked through his grief that temporariness faded away, and they had allowed their son's friend to stay. 

Humphrey was looking out of the window now at the flowers of June that were colourful in the castle gardens, he considered drawing them in his sketchbook as he had many times before.

“Have the maids packed your bags?” the Captain asks, “we leave this evening.”

Humphrey nods, humming round a piece of food in his mouth before swallowing it and speaking. “Yep, yeah, checked this morning. We’re good to go… are you sure you still want to go?”

“Lady Katherine would be disappointed if I didn’t… and I do love Button House.”

Humphrey smiles fondly, remembering all the times they had spent their summers there. “Yeah, me too.” 

June normally stretched into July, and then August, and by September Lady Button would be shooing them out of the door and exclaiming something along the lines of, “don’t you have royal duties to get to?!” Though it seemed it wouldn’t be that way this year. Things were going to be changing.

“Just uhm…” James says, “don’t say anything about my engagement I… I don’t want to cause a dark cloud to loom over the party.”

“A wedding should be something of a celebration should it not?”

The Prince nods, “yeah… just not mine. Please, Humphrey.”

The cracks in his heart would be irreparable, he thinks. To know one's future is not the life you would choose for yourself in a million years would be one of the greatest hurdles he would have to overcome, but overcome it he would. For England, for his country, and for both the English and French people who could rest easy without war. It had been too long since either side had known peace, and while the battle had only been on the waters (thank god) there were too many people lost to the seas. Now was a time for that horrific era to come to an end and he had the power to do that, and so he will.

“I won’t say anything,” Humphrey says with a frown, and then to lighten the mood adds a sarcastic, “your majesty.”

The Prince laughs, “Don’t call me that.” 

“Yes, my liege.”  

James throws a grape at the offender, “will you quit it man?!”

Chapter Text

On the morning of the fourth day in June, it was with great delight that Lady Fanny Button and her esteemed guests funnelled out of the front door onto the gravel driveway. 

Fanny walks out first, taking hold of her dress with one hand as to not let it drag on the ground outside as she takes a few paces away from her home. Her other hand clasps a fan, one that Mary had made for her last birthday, its intricate floral design rivalling that of the finest and well known artists. 

A pastel pink carriage with white wheels as tall as that of Jemima and Daley creeps onto the drive. Its slow movements cause the stones to crunch underneath it as two brown horses pull it onto the driveway, moving around the fountain to park at the side nearest front lawn so as to not block the entrance to the big house. The chauffeur smiles politely at the Lady’s and Lord’s that greet them. They wear a simple shirt with braces and smart trousers, and while Fanny doesn’t recognise the person she can’t not say they are very attractive indeed; not that she would ever voice this, and especially not now because she doesn’t need to be part of another scandal.

The pretty chauffeur is accompanied at the front of the carriage by Kitty’s lady’s maid Florence, who has a suitcase on her lap and wears a lilac dress and simple work shoes. Though a rather kind girl, Fanny has previously somewhat regarded Florence with a taste of displeasure because of how the girl openly snorts when she laughs even in the midst of polite company. Lady Button had formerly held the opinion of there being something rather unbecoming of a woman who would reduce herself to such a vulgar noise. This was not how Lady Button thought currently however, for now she simply regards Florence as kind and overly happy. This change of opinion was a consequence of the current circumstances of her own life, a tribute to one's husband leaving and suddenly being forced to live outside expectation. Since George’s leaving it was as though she was finally successful in prying her eyes open, she was creating her own views and perspectives as opposed to the societal ideals given to her. She had always been a rather intelligent woman, an avid academic in her youth, but she was much better at mathematics than she was at forming her own opinion because she had spent so many years being told she was not allowed to do that. She had been a good lady, a landowner beside her husband, and living up to the idealistic view that was expected of a woman of her stature. 

Those ideals hadn’t kept her safe from scandal, not like how she had been promised.

Stephanie, three months on from her husband's leave, had snorted when she laughed on numerous occasions. Though she may still carry herself with elegance and grace, the girl underneath the facade was healing. Surprisingly, the presence of a certain Mr Julian Fawcett had helped her. Though originally he had come to stay because of reporters and to help deal with any news organisations at the door, she was thankful for whatever reason he chose to stay; though she would not dare tell him that and would continue to nag at him as though he were a problem because this was Julian Fawcett after all.

Appearing on Fanny’s left side is Sir Patrick. With his hands behind his back and looking particularly smart in his beige three piece suit, he stands straight with a smile on his face. Beside him is Carol, who donning a pale blue brocade dress with silk patterning down the sides and four bows lining the chest looked just as handsome as he. She is a picture of beauty, her hair pulled back into a bun with a couple of intentionally loose strands curling near her pink cheeks. Pat allows himself a brief moment to turn his gaze to his wife as the carriage moves across the drive. He found even after so many years of marriage he liked to run his eyes over her, for he loved her immensely and thought her very pretty. He was thankful for such a lovely wife, and she was such a wonderful mother to their son. Still, he missed her when she would take to her solidarity jaunts to walk the grounds and such, but he knew it was what she liked to do and instead lay in bed awaiting her return and normally falling into slumber before she returned to bed. Unbeknownst to him she would creep out of the butler's quarters, giggling as kisses were peppered on her collarbone for one last time that night as she hushed her lover who begged her not to go. Lady Butcher would bid Morris a good night and creep barefoot back to the room her and her husband shared, and while she felt guilty for the lack of passion between herself and Pat, she thought of Morris as a break from the monotony of it all and still thought (unlike George) that she would accept the life she had been given. She would play the role of wife, mother, and landowner, and her moments with her Butler were merely brief moments in time where she could escape. 

On Fanny’s right side stood Julian Fawcett, which was where one could usually find him as of late. He wore a black jacket with multiple silver buttons and a white shirt underneath. The jacket was long at the back but looked like a vest at the front, highlighting his tall figure and slim muscular legs. His height over the others in his company was also made even more noticeable by the black top hat he had chosen to wear. In contrast to this, he wore black buckled shoes and long white tights which could be seen due to the shortness of the navy knee length breeches Robin had helped him into that morning.

The valets and other members of staff themselves had taken to standing in a line ready to help however necessary. Whether that would mean simply escorting the house's residents back inside or helping with luggage depends on the role Robin (the acting Butler of Button House) had assigned to them. 

The children, Daley and Jemima, took to the water fountain in the middle of the gravel. Climbing atop of it and waving at the approaching carriage, careful not to fall into the water that trickled beside them. 

From the window of the carriage, there are four faces. Three of which were recognisable to the greeting party. 

Lady Katherine Higham waves happily to the children, her smile always the widest of her features as she is known for being exceedingly joyful and radiating positivity. Lady Higham was currently studying dance and was rather dedicated to it, the newspapers of the capital London hold declaring her a natural talent and born for the stage. There was much to be said about such a high ranking lady setting herself up amongst the busy crowds of London rather than staying at home and learning to sew, but she attended one of the prestigious universities in the country and was seen as such a sweetheart in the eyes of the nation that the newspapers didn’t bother to report much beyond her leaving home. As a matter of a fact, the story saw an increase in the amount of ladies taking to education. There was nothing wrong with either lifestyle, Fanny thought, a woman can be a working woman, or a homely woman, and even both. What was important was the opportunity of choice, one that if Fanny could’ve been afforded may have kept Lady Button from such scandal. She often regretted not continuing her studies and not going to university, but at the time she felt she had little choice. The King, her half brother, had shown up and ordered her to marry Sir George Button. His majesty had claimed it would be good for her, and that there would only be whispers about her in the halls of a university about being one of the bastard children of the throne. She often thought about her father, the previous Grandmaster, who made sure to visit her regularly when he wasn’t supposed to. The King’s father had four children, the King himself (James’s father), and then three children out of wedlock who had no claim to the throne because they were borne from two mistresses. Fanny and her twin brother (Kitty’s father) were the youngest of his illegitimate children, and then there was their older half sister from the Grandmaster’s first mistress, from which Sir Patrick’s family descended. 

The current Grandmaster (the King) had convinced Stephanie that she was better off lavishing in a life of luxury without making too much of a name for herself. It was safer that way, but there was always a part of her that wondered where she would’ve ended up if she had continued her study of mathematics. Would she have worked in accounts or maybe left the aristocracy in favour of opening her own shop? Fantasies that could only be fantasies, so that she could lead a life of comfort, and who was she to ignore the King? Only his half sister, which didn’t amount to much apparently. Unlike the previous Grandmaster, he didn’t oft come to Button House and hadn’t offered much support surrounding the scandal with George aside from telling the newspaper to focus their attention on relaying information on the war instead. However, Stephanie’s half nephew (Prince James), whom she proudly dropped the word ‘half’ for, was a nephew who visited every summer and she was thankful that the Prince did not appear as shallow as her brother (the King) and instead seemed to have inherited some form of kindness from both his own mother and the previous Grandmaster. 

Fanny didn’t know why sometimes her half brother, the King, could sometimes be so cold. She would always regret listening to him instead of simply heading off to university with the funds their father had supplied her with. She had always been good with numbers after all and it was very likely she would have been very successful in a continued higher education. While looking over potential assets with Julian her skillset and likeness for numeracy had shone through; and it should be noted that as odd as the pairing seemed, Lady Button and Mr Fawcett had worked so diligently together.

Fanny let out a weary exhale and opened her fan to wave in front of her face once more, trying to distract her thoughts that as of late continuously fell to the lawyer standing beside her. Instead, Lady Fanny Button forced herself to think of how proud she was of Kitty. The girl who would soon be two and twenty, and was growing into a formidable young woman. Stephanie was very proud of her dear niece. This thought also made her think of her late twin brother, who had done such a fine job raising his two girls. Kitty’s father had always had Katherine and Eleanor’s best interests at heart and allowed his daughters to pursue any life of their choosing. For Katherine, she chose to dance, and for Eleanor, it was taking over the runnings of their father's hold. A hold that was given to the Higham family from the previous Grandmaster. Fanny smiled as she thought of her brother and her two wonderful nieces who she hoped she would see both of this June. 

“Hiiii Kitty!” Screamed Daley happily, tip-toeing from where he stood on the stone work of the water fountain as though he were not high enough already. Jemima giggled behind him, waving too. Lady Button watched the children fondly, the pair of them were the future, and as she got older that feeling became ever more important. She had to resist her own laugh, as she watched young Daley with his laces untied bounce excitedly, and Jemima with the giant navy bow in the back of her hair slightly askew as she waved at their guests. Their happiness brought her so much joy. ‘Yes,’ she thought with a smile, ‘the future would be bright.’

Fanny then finds herself being brought out of her thoughts again by Daley, who remains absolutely thrilled as he greets the newly arrived guests. “She's brought Alison! And Mike!” Daley shouts as he looks back at Pat and Carol, “Mama! Papa! It’s the Coopers!” 

“We know son,” Sir Patrick chuckles, “we know.”

It was always delightful to receive a visit from Alison and Michael Cooper come June. Kitty's closest friends were always pleasant when they came to Button House. They currently held the title Lady and Sir but it was not through residing over a hold of their own. Michael was the son of two hold owners who resided over the piece of land known as Buttho. Buttho was next to the hold of Hilem where Kitty had grown up. While Katherine had ties to Hilem hold and could resume there as a landowner with her sister Eleanor whenever she wished, Micheal was an heir to the Buttoho hold (along with his two sisters) after his parents' passing, which entitled him and his wife Alison to their current titles. Alison was rather a mystery because she tended to not speak about her past. It wasn’t polite conversation to ask about one's parents without reason, and Alison was pretty good at moving a conversation along when she didn’t want to speak about something. Stephanie thought maybe Lady Cooper was born outside of nobility, and that’s why she kept it so quiet. Fanny herself understood the feeling of not wanting to discuss one’s birth, she herself as the daughter of a King’s mistress made her reluctant to talk about her origins too. It wasn’t unknown for Lords and Lady to date someone common or to marry them, but depending on one's circumstances sometimes it was best not spoken about.

Regardless, it was most noticeable to Fanny that besides Michael’s ties to the Buttho hold and Alison’s mysterious past, there wasn’t much else to say about the young couple who were both three and twenty [23].  Fanny was of the understanding that two summers prior the couple had made their way to Lady Katherine’s residence in London with her, the three of them all living in England’s capital together. What Lady Button couldn’t ascertain is what the couple had planned for their future besides the inheritance of land. From what she garnered from Kitty’s letters the pair contributed towards the rent, though she was not told how so, and the pair were ‘experiencing real life before setting anything in stone’. Though Lady Button wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, as being a hold owner was one of the highest honours after all. Fanny had once thought it strange for two people to lack such direction, but perhaps it was herself who had been the directionless one. After all, at least Lady Cooper and Sir Cooper were doing what they wanted. Stephanie had been set on a path for the sake of her family, and while it was certainly a step forward, was it really the direction she had wanted to go? She hadn’t wanted to live a loveless life that was certain. No matter, there was nothing she could do about that now. Instead, she decided she would try and reacquaint herself with the Coopers a little, and maybe perhaps learn from them. Yes, that’s what she would do. This June was going to be a quieter party than normal so this time without the swarms of people, Alison and Mike would become less ‘Kitty’s friends’ and more people she knew. She thinks, no, Fanny knows, she would like that very much. 

Then of course there was somebody else she wanted to acquaint herself with. The unknown Mr Anthony Havers who had apparently earned the affections of Kitty so much so that he had been invited to meet her closest family members for her month's birthday celebration. Yes, she was very curious about this man indeed, and he of course was just as curious to meet her.

Anthony Havers, a gentleman of eight and thirty [38], had heard a great deal regarding Lady Button. Though he had not bothered to listen to any whisperings that arose on the Button House scandal grapevine, it was inevitable to hear about it. The greater scandal, which was considered treason to even mention, was that Lady Button was an illegitimate child of the King’s father, but Havers was not bothered by the family history either. While Havers was rather bewildered by how the upper crust lived in that respect, that is to have children and then ship them off into aristocratic society without proper ties to their ancestry, he was much more concerned with keeping himself hidden. 

When he had befriended Kitty at their school of dance he did not know she was of nobility. He thought of her as a classmate and she seemed kind enough to him on his first day attending the class that he had continued to speak and work alongside her. He had given his reasoning for being one of the eldest students in the class as realising his passion for dance came late in life. Nobody had to know the truth because this was his fresh start. Dance had been a dream of his since he was a child, a mere peasant boy dancing in the candlelight of a tin shelter as his mother applauded and encouraged him. Those memories of her were something he held close to his heart, and something he thought about as he now moved to pursue the life his mother had wanted for him. His third year at a dance school had been the easiest because he had completely cut ties with the crew, and while he was thankful for the last twenty five years as part of said crew he didn’t want that life anymore. If his dear mother had known what had become of him it would break her heart. So now instead of his false name William he was her dear Anthony again, and he rather liked that. 

When he had agreed to go to Kitty’s birthday celebrations he was slightly worried about returning back to Button House, and when he set eyes on the manor house through the rectangular window of the carriage he could not help but feel a wave of guilt swoop over him. Still, he tried his best to remain composed and pushed that feeling away. That was the past. This was now. He was here for Lady Katherine and was thankful for his trio of friends for inviting them into their circle of friends and family and that’s what he would be focusing on. 

“How extraordinary,” he says, looking out of the window at the home. It was beautiful, having only seen it in the cloak of darkness and as part of a job, he had not been able to appreciate it for the lovely home that it was back then. 

“Oh tell me about it,” Sir Mike says, “this manor is practically a mansion! If you’re an admirer of architecture, as am I, I’ll show you all the little nooks and crannies!”

Havers bet there were more secret spots he could inform Michael about, he may have only been here once but his visit had taken lots of planning and he knew every secret crevice like the back of his hand.

“Sounds lovely,” Havers says with a smile on his lips. It was still a nice idea after all. Havers thought he rather liked Michael, he and his wife Alison had been good friends of his ever since Lady Katherine had introduced him three years ago. It was strange to think that he was friends with the very people he had once committed so many crimes against. Now the quartet were practically inseparable, and this summer instead of hiding out in his apartment pretending to be visiting some fictional sister, Havers risked a visit to Button House.

“Who's that man next to Lady Button, Kitty?” Alison asks. 

“Oh that’s Mr Fawcett,” Katherine says, “he’s the lawyer I was telling you about. I’m surprised he’s still here actually but, the more the merrier!” Kitty claps her hands together, yet again easily brought to a sense of delight.

When the carriage stopped Alison moved to exit, she stepped onto the gravel with the hand of Florence to help her and was straight away accosted by the two children - Daley and Jemima - who seemed more than happy to see her. Alison leaned over hugging them with a laugh, tousling both of the children’s hair before committing to a secret high five her and Daley had made years ago. 

She leaned slightly back as she high fived the boy, the pair of them raising one leg and bouncing around on the spot. It was times like these that Alison knew why she favoured a suit to a dress, as it would be impossible to bounce around in the sort of long frilly dress Kitty was accustomed too. While Alison wasn’t completely against dresses or skirts, she just had a preference for a long pant leg or breeches. Her current pale green suit with a long pant leg made her look very elegant, and the red lipstick she had plastered on before they clambered into the carriage together at the crack of dawn made her look as though she had snogged a cherry, she looked very beautiful indeed.

Likewise, her husband wore a suit too. As he stepped out of the carriage he donned a pale blue suit with a salmon-coloured shirt and waved over at the adults before saying hello to the children excitedly.

“Oh I can’t wait for everyone to meet you, Anthony.” said Kitty, “I know they will adore you!”

“I hope so,” he says with a smile.

“They will,” she says, and then she takes Florence’s hand and leaves the carriage.

Now that Anthony was in the compartment alone he felt the need to take a deep breath. These next few moments were crucial. He had to make a good impression on his friend’s family, and get through this month unscathed, and then the four of them would be back in the London hold and everything would be back to normal. Nobody would know his secret, there was no way they could.

He steps out of the carriage, thanking Florence as she helps him and then follows Kitty (who had been saying hello to Jemima and Daley) as she takes hold of his arm and guides him towards the adults awaiting them by the door. Lady Alison and Sir Mike were ahead of them, already greeting the gathering of people up ahead.

They were passed by servants who moved to the carriage, and Havers wondered what would become of his luggage and how exactly the staff figured out who got to stay in what room and so forth. His own mother had once worked at a big house, and perhaps if she had lived longer he could’ve asked her.  

The Button House staff seemed to be following the orders of a man who spoke in broken English, though he did mutter “merde, c'est lourd,” upon lifting up one of the suitcases so the man might have been French, another risky move considering they were currently at war with them. A spy perhaps? Anthony shook the thought out of his mind. He has spent too many years on the criminal side of the law. Not everybody was a crook and had secrets to hide, Anthony. Not like you, he thought about himself dejectedly.

Kitty let go of his arm, happily skipping forward to embrace a short man who wore a grin as equally large as her own and spun a monocle on a chain around his finger as though it were no item of importance before hugging his niece. From how Katherine had described her family members on previous occasions and today in the carriage, Havers ascertained that this was her uncle Sir Patrick Butcher. The screech of Kitty’s ‘Patrick’ confirmed this theory.

All of a sudden Anthony feels rather exposed as he stands without Katherine on his arm. Though no sooner as she’s let go he is greeted by the woman standing to the right of Pat.

She approaches the man without warning, her eyes trailing over him as he watches Lord Butcher embrace Lady Higham. “My, my, you’re a handsome one aren’t you?” She says, wrinkling up her nose as she smiles, her shoulders raising slightly as though paused mid shrug. “Caroline Butcher,” She holds out her gloved hand expectantly, “Mr Havers, I presume?”

He takes hold of her hand delicately as he had a noble many times before as part of his training, though instead of discreetly using the removal of a glove to distract them from the swiping of jewellery he simply gives a brief kiss to the lady’s knuckle. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Butcher.”

“So come on then!” Patrick exclaims joyfully before Anthony’s conversation with Lady Butcher can continue, “Introduce me to ya friend.”

“Oh yes,” Kitty says with a pleased smile, turning towards Anthony and Carol.

Behind her Anthony can see Lady Button and Mr Fawcett engaged in conversation with Michael and Alison, but his attention only flickers there for a moment before he is looking back to the three people in his present company. 

“This is my dear friend Anthony Havers,” Kitty says, “Anthony this is my uncle, Sir Patrick Butcher.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Anthony says. 

“Likewise,” Patrick says, “It’s good to meet another of Kitty’s pals certainly.”

“Yes, I concur,” Fanny says, stepping into the conversation beside Kitty. The Coopers were now entering the manor alongside the lawyer it seemed. “We haven’t heard very much about you, I must say.” 

Lady Button looks at the man of eight and thirty [38] like he is a boy in trouble at school. It’s as though she is analysing him and perhaps in some ways she was.

“Anthony is a very close acquaintance,” Kitty says, coming to her friend's defence; she was the only one who knew of Havers's erring past after all. “I thought it better to introduce you to him first hand rather than spread word about him via post.”

The truth was that Anthony didn’t like any mention of him in letters, in case one’s correspondence were to be intercepted. It had been important for him to keep a low cover, for him to remain just another dance student in the busy hold of London. However, now it had been four years since he deserted those who had raised him in crime, and he felt it safe for Kitty to send the letter stating he would be joining the Higham and Cooper party to Button House this June. He doubted they would still be on the lookout for him now.

Kitty moves beside her friend, putting a hand on his back to reassure him and then resting her head on his shoulder. “I hope you will accept him even without not knowing much about him.” 

Pat smiled at the couple in front of him, they did look rather sweet together, he thought. Carol wondered if this Anthony was good in the sheets, already undressing him in her mind.

Fanny turned up her nose, eyeing him suspiciously. She wasn’t sure what to make of this potential suitor yet. It was clear from how the couple stood together they were close friends at least, but after her mistake in marrying George, she was ever more so critical of any man who dared to date Kitty. That being said, her niece had not introduced Anthony as someone she was courting and it seemed the pair were attempting to hide their courtship for a tad longer; Fanny thought she would have to see what she could learn from the Coopers if she could not glean anything from the couple themselves.

“Of course,” Fanny said, though her expression did not change at all. “It’s wonderful to meet you Mr Havers.”

“Thank you, my Lady. He said, doing a little bow to show his respect for the older woman. “It is good to meet you as well.” 

“Yes well,” Fanny says, “I hope the pair of you are not too tired from your journey to join us for brunch?”

“No, definitely not,” he says, “it would be an honour.” Havers says with a smile. Food sounded lovely. Even though they had stayed at a cottage between here and London he had only had a slice of toast at 4 am that morning which was five hours ago. Overall the trip from London to Surrey took just over eight hours by horse and cart, but the easiest time to leave the London capital hold was the evening when the foot traffic died down, and therefore most travelling outwards would leave in the evening and travel for part of the night before resting and resuming their venture come the early morn. Havers had barely slept four hours, and yet the excitement of spending time with his friends had allowed him to wake up full of energy; though Havers wasn't the sort to lie in and woke up easily anyway. It had been a bit of a struggle for himself and Katherine to wake up Michael and Alison, though Havers imagined if he was sharing a bed with the man he loved (currently non-existent and hopefully pending), he wouldn't want to arise either. 

“Oh please tell me there’s pineapple,” Kitty says following Fanny who now turns to walk towards the house, “I love pineapple.”

Havers follows them into the house, Lady Button and Lady Higham talking amongst themselves. He is joined by Miss Butcher who walks weirdly close beside him, so much so that her hand keeps brushing against his leg and he nearly trips trying to navigate himself away from what he assumes is an accidental touch. When Patrick starts up a conversation with him he drops back, leaving Miss Butcher to walk on ahead with the ladies. It's simple small talk, and small talk is incredibly boring, but it was something easy that he could do until they were seated.

Chapter Text

09:30am

To Kitty’s delight, there was pineapple. Plenty of it too, ever so succulent and sweet. Some of the fruit was cut into small wedges and paired with cheese, while the rest was cut into semi hoops and hooked onto an empty wine glass in a similar way one would present a shrimp cocktail. 

“Gosh,” says Lady Katherine as she chews on one of the wedges. “I think this is the most delicious pineapple I’ve ever had.” She looks to her auntie who smiles back at her.

“Oh good,” Fanny says. She looks down her nose as she speaks but her eyes remain twinkling with affection for the young girl. “I know how much you like it, so I asked Annie and Mary if they could acquire a few pineapples throughout the duration of your stay.”

“I will have to go to the kitchens and thank them later then,” says Kitty who smiles thinking fondly of the cooks who worked at Button House. She then takes one of the semi hoops off of the glass and brings the pineapple to her lips, holding the fruit as though holding a slice of watermelon.

From where he’s sat between his parent’s, young Daley Butcher starts to list his favourite foods. Holding up a piece of broccoli to explain how disgusting yellow trees (cauliflowers) were in comparison to green trees (broccoli), causing the adults at the table to laugh and for Jemima to shove broccoli in her mouth as if to prove him wrong. Stephanie, though not intending to ignore the conversation, still holds a side eye gaze to Kitty who continues eating her aforementioned favourite fruit. 

Kitty doesn’t simply nibble at the end of the fruit as would be expected, but instead begins to suck at the middle of the fruit like playing a harmonica backwards. 

Fanny nearly berates her, because the noise and manner of which Katherine is eating is most unladylike. 

Then Lady Button considers why she thought this. After all, Kitty is clearly enjoying it. Fanny thinks to herself, why would it be her place to interrupt that for a so-called eating etiquette? Instead she simply focuses on her own food, smiling to herself and then glancing momentarily over at Julian who sits across from her. The lawyer is in the middle of telling a story to Lady Katerine but almost as though sensing Stephanie’s gaze looks over her as he speaks. His lips curl into a smile upon noticing her, and she cannot help but smile too. 

At the other end of the table Sir Michael Cooper also turns his nose up in slight disgust. Not because of Kitty’s eating habits, for he couldn’t care less for how a lady (or anyone else for that matter) ate their food. No. Mike’s disgust surrounded how one of his closest friends proceeded to dip a piece of pineapple into a china bowl, the contents of which were a generous amount of gooey honey. The combination of the two seemed absolutely revolting.

“What are you doing?” Mike says looking at Anthony who chewed happily on the now honey glazed fruit.

“Sorry?”

“Does that.. taste..good?”

“Would I eat it if it were not ‘good’?”

Mike laughs, “touche… though this is you, Ant.”

This causes Mr Havers to laugh too. “Gee thanks, I’m glad you have so much faith in me.”

“Well-” As Michael goes to speak the door swings open behind him. 

“Good god,” Anthony says under his breath. His voice was so low in his exclamation that nobody else would have heard it. Mr Cooper thinks if he had not already been paying attention to his friend then it is likely he would not have noticed him speak either.

“Alright?” Mike queries.

The Butchers and Alison were currently engaged in a game of riddles, one that Mike always sat out of because he despised word games; having been teased by his sisters who always did so well at them as a child. With the game going on, and Julian telling a story at the otherside of the table, it had definitely only been Mike, and perhaps the entering servants, who heard Anthony speak at all. 

There is a split second where Havers eyes widen, and then he simply picks up a napkin and dabs the side of his mouth. A politeness used as cover, a distraction technique to keep Anthony’s thoughts at bay as he tries his best not to panic. He forces his face to become neutral, and manages to blend in amongst the crowd as he had been trained to do. Though his voice betrays him as he speaks to Michael. 

“Yes,” he croaks, his voice barely above a whisper. This could not be happening, he thought. 

The servants who appear around them move effortlessly, Florence and the cute chauffeur work in quick succession to pick up any and all empty plates from the first course, and Morris and Robin put down new plates of food as a replacement straight after. 

Behind them is Barclay, who stands stoic straight at the side of the room. One hand behind his back, and the other holding a large silver tray full of new drinks with a white towel draped neatly over his forearm. As soon as the other servants finish their duties and vacate the room, Barclay moves to replenish everyone’s drinks. Making his way round the table, he replaces every full glass on the tray with a used one and switches them in a practised prose. He comes to Anthony last, a look of recognition greets his features and he raises his eyebrows at Havers as though impressed. 

Then he simply leaves. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” Mr Havers says, standing up. He doesn’t bother to put on his suit jacket, simply making his way to the door. The green vest he donned and matching sleeve garters were smart enough anyhow, he thought. 

It’s only Sir Mike that eyes him curiously as he leaves, but he doesn’t say anything.

Anthony walks through the white door and out into the large hall they had walked through to get to the dining hall, and catches up with Barclay who spins on his heel to meet Havers eye. 

He has a smirk on his face, his eyebrows raised in amusement as he watches an old acquaintance approach him. 

“Well now isn’t this interesting, hello William.” His voice sounds smug, as though he had somehow beaten Anthony at a game he wasn’t aware the two were playing. 

“It’s Anthony.”

“Oh yes,” Barclays says, looking pleased with himself. “My apologies, wouldn’t want anyone to catch wind of that certain code name would we?”

Havers turns to look at the door he had just walked through. Their conversation was only concealed by the wood itself and the occupants' inside own conversation. It made Havers nervous, because the older gent was certainly not the quietest of people.

Barclay lets out a chuckle at seeing Anthony worry about being overheard.

“I hardly think they're pressing their ears up against the door,” Barclay seems so sure of himself, as though invincible, which is ironic considering his past downfall. 

“Though perhaps,” Barclay says as he catches the sight of Florence outside the window with a cigarette in her mouth. 

If she turned to look through the window during her brief smoke break she would see them. Barclay thought he better not risk this.

“...Perhaps we should find somewhere to discuss our… previous proclivities…” Barclay continues, “in private.”

Anthony nods, allowing himself to be led by the man to the left side of the room, where they  pass the library and approach the main grand staircase. To the side of the stairs there's a door, Barclay tests it, and when it opens, enters. The house’s safe. 

With the heavy door closed, Barclay is confident they would be safe to speak here.

“Recognise this room do you?” Barclay smirks up at the taller man, looking around the room at some of Fanny Button’s less expensive treasures. “I do hope you can resist the urge to nab anything while we're here.”

“Now see here-” Anthony begins. 

Barclay raises his eyebrows in amusement, “ah, ah, ah, I would be very careful what you say to me Mr Havers. We wouldn’t want any loose tongues going wagging would we?”

Havers lets out a frustrated huff, “what- what are you doing here, Barclay?”

“What does it look like?” He says sarcastically. “I’m working… I now reside in the hold of North Dipagain, and I am here temporarily for Lady Katherine’s birthday celebration.”

Anthony knew of North Dipagain, the hold owned by the Butcher family.

“You work for Sir Patrick and Lady Carol?” Anthony asks, half shocked.

“Yes,” Barclay smirks, he pulls out his lapels and starts to explain his current circumstances to Mr Havers, whose eyes widen in shock.

The last Anthony had heard from the older gentleman was that he was being tried in court for fraud. The squirmy (now ex) landowner had ties to the Guild of Thieves, and he had been caught.This was the same Guild of Thieves that Anthony himself had spent years working for as one of their agents.

Barclay had been caught out for his fraudulent behaviour but he had previously been one of the wealthiest landowners. His greed had seen to the end of that however, and his criminal ties had him stripped of his title. Barclay was no longer the landowner of Beggen hold. 

The ex-landowner explained that following his trial, he managed to get work as a member of staff at the Butcher residence, though he didn’t specifically say how. Anthony thought the Butchers absolutely mad for trusting such a sketchy fellow, but from what Kitty had told himself about Sir Patrick, it wasn’t surprising that the altruistic gentleman was trying to unlock some sort of hidden kindness in Barclay’s heart; Anthony doubted there was any real goodness to find but it wasn’t his problem.

“Mr Butcher took pity on me you see… thinks I can change my ways.” Barclay laughs, and Anthony cannot help but wonder what (if any) secret plans the conniving crook had for the Butcher family.

Then again Anthony also wondered if he should be giving Barclay the benefit of the doubt. He too had worked among criminals and was now trying to be a good person. Couldn’t Barclay do the same? Mr Havers was uncertain of this. Barclay had been well off, and had no reason to get involved in the Guild of Thieves, whereas Anthony had been rescued from the streets as a twelve year old boy not two weeks after his mother had passed away and brought up as a thief as a means of survival. He and Barclay were not the same by any means, he concluded, but maybe he shouldn’t assume Barclay would get up to no good in North Dipagain. Perhaps it would do the man good…possibly.

Barclay’s situation didn’t surprise Anthony in the least, the older gent had always had an appreciation for the finer things. He may not be a hold owner any more but he was still living among the upper crust in some way and Havers imagines that the caught felon was glad of that. North Dipagain was one of the nicest holds within Yorkshire too, so Anthony thought him quite fortunate to be in the situation he is in.

Though Havers had to wonder: if someone like Barclay had been caught and was only stripped of his title as a means of punishment before being offered a lifetime of paid work in a nice warm home by another landowner… What would happen to the likes of Anthony if he were caught? There was no title they could strip him of, and he had no real money that wasn’t the small amount he stole away with to London to pay for his dance school tuition. There was nothing any court could take from Anthony, so he supposed he would be branded a thief and sent to jail along with all the other petty thieves who had nobody to bail them out or money to buy their freedom. 

When Barclay finished talking he looked Anthony up and down, as though analysing him.

“What exactly are you doing here anyway?” Barclay said, “your lot already took funds from this place before, didn’t you? I didn’t think you were the sort to strike twice. Bad luck isn’t it?”

“We’re not- I mean, they’re not… I’m not with them anymore.”

“Oh?” Barclay said, his eyes widening as his interest was piqued. “Well that is surprising. I thought you were one of their best. A top agent as it were.”

“I was.” Havers shrugs, “now I’m not.”

“A rogue agent aye?” Barclay smirks. 

“That’s not how it is,” Mr Havers says, “I am… no longer of that occupation.” 

Barclay lets out a chesty laugh. “Oh I see! You really think I believe that, do you? Nobody just leaves the Guild of Thieves, Andrew.”

“Anthony.”

“And I doubt they would let one of their best agents go just because he wanted to.” 

“I left,” Anthony says, “plain and simple.”

“Hmm… I see.”

Havers watches him, the older man holds a facial expression that shows the cogs turning in his head. His lips rubbing together as he thought, clearly formulating some sort of opinion.

“You were an orphan weren’t you?” Barclay says after a moment’s silence, his eyes raising curiously. Anthony decides that the wrinkles on Barclay’s forehead are from years of raising his eyebrows, and that if they went any higher there would be two hairy caterpillars floating about in the sky.

“So?” Havers looks at him in alarm, his brown eyes focusing on the old man. He blinks and schools his face to be without emotion once more.

He should have known Barclay would figure him out so quickly. Though intolerable, the former landowner was rather clever, proving how he went undiscovered as a fraud for so long. 

“Well… an orphan, no money to your name before joining the guild, and yet here you are…” Barclay says, gesturing to him, his hands moving from head-to-toe as though pointing at a museum exhibit.

“You’ve left the crew and are now close acquaintances of Lady Katherine,” Barclay continues, “you attend the same expensive dance school as her and are currently dining with some of the richest families in England.”

“I got lucky,” Havers says, forcing himself to have some sort of composure as he spoke. 

It would do no good to already look the guilty counterpart when no wrongdoing had yet to be explained. ‘It’s only speculation,’ Havers thought, calming himself.  

Barclay purses his lips together, his lips looking similar to that of a prune. His eyes were glistening with excitement. He was always one for drama that didn’t concern him, a gossip. Havers thought it maddening that the Guild of Thieves could have associated themselves with such an untrustworthy man in the first place. 

“You stole from them, didn’t you?” Barclay says, his eyes glowing with the ravenous hunger that seeked the former thief's answer.

Havers looked to the door of the safe. He didn’t owe his old accomplice anything after all.  

Barclay gave out a laugh, seeing Haver’s head turn as an admission of guilt; to which of course he was not wrong. 

“Naughty, naughty. I wonder what Lady Fanny will make of this.”

Anthony looks back to the man, his face dropping instantly. “You wouldn’t…”

Though moments ago Mr Havers had felt rather confident he would leave this conversation unscathed, he now swears he can feel his heart starting to beat faster in his chest. 

Danger. 

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

“There’s no need for you to,” Anthony says in disbelief, his eyes widening once more. He knew Barclay to be a bit of a prick but he didn’t think the man would deliberately sell him out.

Barclay’s eyes narrowed on him like that of a hawk. “Yes… I am quite aware of that, but I do seem to recall being sold out by your lot.”

“What?” Anthony says, baffled and stunned.

“There was no need for my demise was there? So let's call this my way of getting a little bit of revenge.”

“We wouldn’t- I mean, they wouldn’t have sold you out.”

“Oh no?” Barclay says, “the royal court just happened to inspect my home on their own did they? The King's soldiers thought a trip to my house where they could sift through my belongings at their leisure would be joyous entertainment?”

Mr Havers had never thought about that. Barclay had been caught, yes, but was it indeed the Guild of Thieves who had ratted him out as the fraud he was? Anthony had still been a member of the crew when the Beggan hold scandal surrounding its (now former) landowner took place, but he was definitely not involved in any plan to betray Barclay. Still, even as one of the best agents in the crew, Havers was not involved in everything. He was merely a pair of hands, and everything within the Guild of Thieves was on a need-to-know basis. Havers himself not being part of any plans of deception towards the former landowner did not mean that what Barclay was saying was untrue. If anything, the organisation's secrecy with its own ranks reinforced the likelihood of the idea.

“Barclay I have no idea if they double-crossed you, but you have to believe me when I say I had no part in it.” He tries to reason with him, because it was the truth. Anthony, though not the most innocent of men, was definitely blameless in this instance. 

The shorter man regards Anthony for a moment before laughing. “You think I would believe anything you say?”

Anthony frowns, “listen to me, I had no part in any plot against you. You can’t- you can’t destroy the life I’m trying to build up for myself because of some agenda you have with my former bosses. I’m just trying to live.”

“Aren’t we all?” Barclay sneers at him. “I rather think the occupants of the dining room would appreciate me telling them the sort of man they had been dining with. The sort of man Lady Katherine has been consorting herself with.”

“You will say nothing!” Havers raises his voice ever so slightly as he steps forward. He stands over the shorter man, breathing heavily with his face red with anger. The notion of his own exposure irritates him, but the thought of any displeasure surrounding the Lady he found himself close friends with angers him further. 

“Now, now Andrew, temper, temper.” Barclay is unfazed by Anthony’s height, and instead looks up at the man with his beady bird-like eyes. “I’m not scared of you,” he says, “you won’t hurt me. Wouldn’t want to risk your precious new life.”

Anthony has no time to answer, because the safe door swings open. Lady Katherine herself standing there looking at them with a confused countenance.

“Anthony? Mr Beg-Chetwynde?... What are you two doing in there?”

“Katherine,” Mr Havers says, his face suddenly a picture of relief. He glances behind Kitty to ensure nobody else was there, “would you…” He speaks low, not wanting to be heard, “will you tell this… this buffoon.. That he is not to tell anyone about…about me.”

“Oh you know of this delinquent’s past do you?” Barclay says in a condescending rhetorical way, “now that is a surprise.” 

Katherine frowns, a face she doesn’t wear very often. “Barclay,” her face twisting in confusion, “were you not associated with the Guild of Thieves yourself?” She looks over her shoulder, speaking low as Havers had done before at the risk of being overheard.

“Yes but I’m-”

“A hypocrite,” she says, as though explaining something simply to a child. She looks fed up, rolling her eyes as though Barclay had missed the obvious and scoffs.

“Well that’s slightly different, if I may say so Lady Kath-”

“No you may not, Mr Beg-Chetwynde.” She moves to stand closer to Anthony and links her arm in his, “I think you should leave Mr Havers alone. Or do I need to tell Sir Patrick that you accosted my friend to threaten him?”

Barclay looked down, life in service had either softened him or given him common sense. “Yes, your ladyship,” he says.

“I do not want to hear anything more about this either,” she commands, “nothing is to spoil my birthday celebration and you certainly do not want to lose your post at Dipagain.”

“Yes, your ladyship.” He repeats, and then goes to take his leave.

 Though not before having the last say. Turning to look at the pair he smirks, and Anthony wonders if this is a move to make him feel as though he’s in control of the situation. 

“Although Andrew… I do think you should head back to the dining room. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’re doing a number two-”

“Yes, that's quite enough, thank you.” Mr Havers says, moving forward and shutting the safe door so that it was just him and Kitty in the small room. The man breathes a sigh of relief, glad to be away from his past associate. Though he still felt rather worried the man would say something to those in the dining room.

“Do you think he will say anything?” 

Kitty shakes her head, “no, he wouldn’t dare. Slimy cretin.” 

Mr Havers face does not hold an expression of belief, but continues to hold one of worry. 

“Don’t panic, Anthony.” Kitty says, “We’re here to have the best birthday celebration ever and nothing will stop that! I am so glad you’re here this year.”

“Me too,” he says, smiling softly. For the words he spoke were true. He was happy that even through his life of crime and hardship he has been able to find a friend in Kitty. 

“I’m also glad that I don’t have to talk anymore to Alison and Mike about your mystery sister.” Kitty laughs, “telling them all the fake activities you said you would be doing.”

“Yeah…” Anthony looks down guilty, “I have been thinking about that.”

“Go on…”

“If you think it is safe, I rather think it may be time to correct that mishap.” Mr Havers says before quickly adding, “after your birthday of course.”

Kitty is practically beaming from the news of her close friend wanting to admit the truth to their two closest friends. She hated secrets, and found it very surprising she was able to keep this one; though maybe the fear of losing Anthony (a man she had some to love so dearly as a somewhat brotherly figure) was what had been stopping the secret slipping from her lips.

“Oh Anthony!” She says, “that’s excellent news! Yes! Yes, you must! Of course you must!” She bounces on her feet before moving to hold her friend tightly, the two of them wrapped in a close embrace. 

Havers chuckles, hugging her back. 

“I know they’ll be okay with it,” she says with her head on his chest, “they love you, as do I.”

“I love you too,” he says. His eyes suddenly wet. He blinks the threatening tears away. “All of you.”

He is overcome with a sensation in his chest, a feeling of pure elation that causes his insides to twist pleasantly. It’s as though air somehow comes from within him, the stress of the life he had lived coming off him in waves. He is accepted now. More than a thief. He is somebody's friend, Kitty’s friend, Alison and Mike’s friend. Mr Havers is more than grateful with the fresh start in life that he has been presented with. It’s home, not where he is or what he owns, but the people he tucks into the pockets of his heart. Before there had only ever been room for his late mother, but now… now he can open himself to these people, because they were his people.

“Are you alright?” Kitty asks him.

"Yes... very much so, thank you.” He offers a reassuring smile, “Just thankful to have friends like you…”

She makes a sound similar to that of someone cooing over a pet or a baby.  

“Although, it is rather hot here, isn't it?" He continues, pulling at the vest that suddenly feels like it’s attempting to suffocate his body. 

 “We should-'' The sentence falters, however, as Havers' gaze shifts to the door behind her. The closed door. 

Brown eyes widen slightly with concern, which quickly morphs into panic as he realises their mistake. He lets go of her, rushing past to push against it, though to no avail. "Damn it!"

Anthony remembers this safe, from his first time at Button House Estate. They were warned not to enter here. The trinkets looked expensive but were not worth the small amount of profit that would come from stealing them. Sir George Button had deliberately installed this safe to fool thieves and keep them trapped in the room until the law enforcement arrived.

Kitty’s own sudden cold realisation sweeps over her. She looks around the small room helplessly, as though the answers might be in the small trinket antiques littering the shelves. “There must be something.. A failsafe. In case someone locks themselves in accidentally.”

Havers pushes the door, once, twice, three times, his shoulder taking the brunt of the impact as he tries to force a door more than four times his weight to budge. Though he knows deep down it is useless.

Kitty is picking up the statues and various objects on the shelves, hoping one is secretly some sort of lever.

“Oh god we’re trapped,” Kitty says when she is unsuccessful.

 “Help!” She yells up at the ceiling, “help!” Upon looking back down to see Anthony with his hands over his ears she mutters a quick “sorry” and moves to try pushing the door herself. 

“Someone help!” she yells as she bangs on the metal over and over. 

Anthony runs his hand through his hair, the room feels so very hot now. He joins her, banging on the door too and yelling at the top of his lungs. How long could someone spend in an airtight room so small? Someone will hear them soon…surely… 

Just as it enters his brain that they should try not to panic so much (as a way of conserving oxygen), the door swings open, Katherine almost falling into the arms of their rescuers, who come in the form of Lady Button and Mr Fawcett.

“Kitty,” Fanny says in shock as she sees her niece, and then moves her gaze to Mr Havers and back again to Lady Higham.  

“Oh thank you auntie,” she says, moving past Sir Julian who holds the door to hug her aunt. Fanny pats the girls back awkwardly, not being one for hugs, but thinks the girl probably needs the hug after being trapped in the safe. Though she would talk to her later to remind her how she doesn't really like to be hugged; except when it came to Pat because she had cuddled him since he was a baby, and except Julian recently because...well, because she found she liked his arms wrapped round her.

“Yes indeed,” Havers nods to the pair who came to their aid, “thank you so much.”

“It’s quite alright… though pray tell, what were you doing in there?” She holds an expression of suspicion as she catches Anthony’s eye.

“Oh I wanted to speak to Anthony, in private, and… it was silly of me to suggest in there really.” Kitty says, looking over at Anthony with a small smile.

Julian smirks and looks at the ground. 

“Right… well, hurry back and finish your plate. We were going to head outside for a game of croquet.”

“Oh, how exciting!” Kitty says happily, “come on Anthony.” She leads her friend away, going back past the library to the dining hall. She links their arms once more, escorting him quickly so they could be away from any eyes of suspicion and get back on the road to normal and forget about the business with Barclay.

“Things must be pretty serious if they’re getting it on in there,” Julian smirks as the dining room door shuts behind them.

Fanny shakes her head, “Julian do you have to be so ribald?”” She says with a disapproving tone. She begins to make her own way back to the dining room. 

“Oh come on now, Stephanie…” Julian says, “Steph I was only joking!”

Fanny blushes at the lawyer's use of her forename but does not stop in her movements, she simply enters the dining room. 

“Right then everyone,” she says joyfully, “who's looking forward to croquet?”

Of course, the children are the two who shoot their hands up excitedly. Trying to put their fingers higher than one another as though it was proof of who was more excited, until the adults tell them to sit back down. 

“You’ll have plenty of time to stretch your limbs outside,” Pat says with a chuckle, tossing his son's hair playfully.

“Yes,” Fanny says, “and I need two expert dog walkers while we’re outside too.” She smiles over at Daley and Jemima who both grin widely at the prospect of being able to walk Lady Button’s little dog. As if on queue, Robin leads the dog in, the little pup wearing a bright read leash.

Kitty is out of her seat straight away, leaning down to greet the dog she hadn’t seen in so long. 

“Dante!”

Chapter Text

Those left to join the party traverse a narrow dirt road that leads them closer to Button House. Prince James and Sir Humphrey sit with their backs straight in practised prose as their horses trot side by side at a leisurely pace. 

Ahead of the pair is one of the royal guards from the palace, a kindly Northern gentleman known as Mr Maddox. The Yorkshireman will be acting as a valet for both Prince James and Sir Humphrey Bone during their stay at Button House as he did in June every year.  His brown horse pulls a small cart containing all of their luggage, multiple suitcases with golden buckles and handles that every so often capture the glint of the sun.

The yellow sun shines beautifully above them, and the hum of summer is in full swing. They pass many delicate flowers that dot the greenest of leaves with their striking shapes and shower the landscape with a beautifully disorganised burst of colour. It is without a doubt almost a privilege to witness the vibrant enchantment of nature, especially on this fine morning. 

As the trio enter the outskirts of the Button House estate they head into the shadows of the woodland path. Here, the sunlight attempts to pierce through the tree branches akin to pointy frozen spikes speckled at the top of icy caves. The umbrella of leaves offers the three men a brief respite from the strong rays of the sun, and the beams of light that manage to break into their shaded fortitude are merely nature’s streetlight and nothing more.

James looks up, smiling at the sight, having always found beauty in the pretty patterns in the fractals of tree crowns. In this almost ethereal sight, he is reminded that the trees are the giants here. Mother nature will always be more royalty than he, as she rules more than a kingdom. The Prince is allowed to feel small here in these woods and have a moment's pardon from the demands brought on by his chance of family blood.

They head deeper.

“What was that?” Humphrey says, pulling at his horse's reins and tightening his legs to stop its movements, “whoa, steady boy..” 

At his friend's alarm, James is automatically on high alert and stops alongside the other two.

There is nothing. 

He exhales quietly, listening for a noise. 

Quiet.

A twig snaps under-hoof, and James pats his horse’s side to stop the animal’s worrying. 

“Sh sh sh.”

Quiet once more.

Mr Maddox turns his head to look at the other two, “perhaps-”

Somebody shouts. 

It’s faint. Somewhere else in the forest. 

James scans the area around them, his eyes flickering over every tree and piece of foliage.

There was no movement, the woodland stood still. 

It is silent.

The Prince opens his mouth to speak, his words falling empty at the sound of a sudden rustle.

All three men turn to look. 

A nearby shrub shakes as though shivering with fear, its branches in distress. 

There is but a moment's comprehension of the plant’s movement before the next, and the three men watch as a small wet dog darts out of its leaves. 

It’s fast and has no fear of possibly being trampled as it darts around the horse's legs. 

This causes the horses to panic, and the men pull on their reins to try and maintain control.

“Isn’t that-” Humphrey starts, looking at the black and white dog as it runs erratically and runs underneath him.

“Dante!” Prince James calls out to the dog, “Dante, stop!” He pulls on his horse's reins once more, finally steadying his steed. 

“What is he doing out here?” Humphrey questions aloud.

“Heaven knows, but that’s definitely him.” the Prince says, “Aunt Stephanie must be worried sick.” 

The dog seems happy to see them as both boys from the castle get off their horses to greet him.

“You wanna go home boy?” Humphrey says as he leans down to stroke him, “Hmm?”

There is a shout somewhere else in the forest again. 

Closer this time. 

The dog's ears prick up, and immediately his fur slips under Humphrey’s palm like a snatched blanket and then the little lap dog is off. 

“Shit,” Humphrey says, making his way to his horse. “We need to catch him!”

The Prince clambers into the bushes after the pup, falling amongst the brambles as he fails to snatch the creature. 

“Milord!” Mr Maddox exclaims as he tries to help the royal son.

“I’ll see if I can get him!” Humphrey says as his horse gallops past, “Meet at the house!”

“Milord?” Maddox repeats as a question this time, his face holding a worried expression as the Prince brushes himself off.

“Continue on the path to the house Mr Maddox,” the Prince says walking towards his own horse quickly, “we will reconvene there shortly.”

“I mean no disrespect sire, but it is my duty to ensure your safe arrival and so I must advise I come with you.”

“I’ll be fine,” James says as he climbs onto his horse, “the luggage will only slow our search. These woods are rather safe, and crime in the Button Hold is more than rare. Proceed to the house and I shall meet you there, Maddox.”

The Prince is already on his way, the knight unable to do much else more but follow out the instruction he had been given. 

James takes in the same direction as his best friend had moments before, but there is no sight of him or the little canine. 

The beauty of the woodland that surrounded him was now a monstrous maze without any destination and an objective that was unlikely to remain still. 

Somebody shouts, and James wonders if it was Humphrey or perhaps it was the person who they had heard shouting earlier. Speculation would not help. For all the Prince knew it could be some strange birdcall. 

“Dante?” the Captain called out as he strode forward. 

There was nothing in response, only the sounds of the forest answering him.

Birds tweeting happily, and the running of a nearby stream was all that James received in response. 

He continues forward, his eyes darting around the woodland in the hopes that he will catch a glimpse of the little rascal. 

There was something to be said about how fast Dante could run for such a small animal.

Which, (as highlighted by the slight cursing from Prince James) was that the little dog's speed of which he could scarper and slip into unknown hiding places was highly irritating. 

The Prince could only wander around in circles looking for him.

~

Summertime at Button House always promised to be beautiful. Untouched by the rule of shoddy English weather during the sunny season, Button Hold with its grand estate and nearby village was always rife with outdoor activities to be enjoyed. With the hotter weather, the village fetes were more often, and there were numerous events to attend that made Lady Button’s hold one of the most popular holds within the county of Surrey.

Though this year, Lady Fanny very much doubts she will present at any of the village games. Nor will she host any events at the house, like she and Sir George and normally would. She knew she could not hide away from the public eye forever, but for now, it offered a slight comfort with the scandal pertaining to Sir George still so fresh in people’s minds.

Even with less guests, she would still be making use of the seas of green that surround her home. The grounds of her estate were more than sufficient for the small party in attendance for Kitty’s birthday celebration.

This year there would be no makeshift stage, no plethora of tables and canopies set up, and no cordoned off area for the set up of a firework display. There was still much fun to be had at Button House for the guests staying at the resplendent home, it would simply be very different to what previous celebrations had made customary. 

For instance, the game of croquet that was now in session would be the first of many games of croquet that were to be played. During the month of May, Lady Fanny Button and Mr Julian Fawcett had practised this sport in the smaller private garden at the back of the house on many occasions.

This game however was held on one of the fields in front of the house, the mansion-like residence standing tall behind them all as the game played forward. The first match already in full swing.

The suspected winners of the first match were Julian and Lady Fanny, who (in everybody else's unspoken opinion) took the game far too seriously. The pair of them were already making their way back to the starting stake, hitting their balls back through the wickets with raucous laughter.

Following their lead was Jemima and Daley, who were both at the turning stake. Daley was set to claim his 8th wicket point in his next turn, and Jemima had just successfully reached the turning stake itself. 

Sir Patrick and Lady Carol, were the losing pair. However, this was very much by choice because they wanted to see their son happy. Carol had ‘missed’ her fourth wicket, and Patrick had not-so-purposefully then knocked her ball out of play as he took his own forth point; causing Morris to leave the shade of the singular white canopy that sat at the sidelines of the pitch, and to chase after the green ball with Dante leading the charge on his short red lead. 

The newer arrivals, Lady Katherine, Lady Alison, Sir Mike and Mr Havers were currently sitting under the square canopy, sitting round a small round table and sipping on fizzy lemonade as they watched the play. Naturally, the four of them were cheering on the children; it was the only correct choice when children played with adults after all.

However as Mr Anthony Havers watched the others play, he found he could not enjoy the lemonade because he was haunted by compunctious feelings of regret.

He felt guilty about the last time he had been to Button House. It was not lost on him the privileged position he now found himself, and yet Barclay’s words still somewhat stung. Was he in fact as bad as his former acquaintance? Were they both to be forever on the path of criminality with no possible redemption?

Within the brief period of time that he found himself alone with Kitty (because Alison felt momentarily unwell and headed back to the house with Mike), Mr Havers voiced his concerns in regards to what Barclay had said. Lady Katherine simply asked if he had taken leave of his senses, because there wasn’t a bad bone in his body. She also added that she thought the idea of him being considered similar to Barclay was an insult to his good natured character. While Anthony appreciated the sentiment, he couldn’t help but think how very wrong she was. Anthony’s intentions may have been different from Barclay’s but he had still done wrong. He couldn’t dismiss that, could he? Mr Havers knows his mother would’ve hated what had become of him, which was why it was so important for him to turn his life around now.

Having friends like Kitty, Alison and Mike made him feel extremely lucky, and he knew they were the sort of friends that his mother would’ve wanted for him. Not because of their social status, but because they genuinely and wholeheartedly accepted him and loved him as good friends should. 

“Sorry about that,” Alison says with a light laugh as she approaches the table, “I don’t know what came over me but I feel absolutely fine now!” 

She leans down to fuss over Dante. The dog who had taken it upon himself to run over and greet them, dragging his lead behind him and followed by a rather frantic Morris; as though they hadn’t been sitting here with the others mere moments before.

“I’m glad you feel alright” Anthony says, also making an effort to lean down and offer some affection to the pup.

“I’m glad you’re back, it means we can be on the same team!” Kitty says cheerfully.

Alison grins, “oh yeah! Let’s do it!” 

“Just you and me then,” Sir Mike says looking at Anthony. 

“It would appear so,” he chuckles in return. “I’m afraid you’ve rather drawn the short end of the stick though, Michael. I have never played croquet.”

“Ah what!” 

“Sorry,” Anthony chuckles.

The two ladies also giggle, watching Mike’s slightly exaggerated hysterics as he exclaims that he wants a new match partner. 

“Oh gee, thanks!” Anthony laughs, “bloody charming!”

With their hands on their respective stomach’s and face’s, the two ladies and Mr Havers are then continuously reduced to stitches for the rest of the match's duration. Not because of the sport taking place, but because Sir Mike incessantly pleads to have a more experienced teammate; only somewhat jokingly because as much as the Cooper Hold heir likes Anthony, he also really wanted to win croquet. 

Unsurprisingly, Lady Button and Mr Fawcett are announced the victors. 

Taking to the green, the four friends stand ready to see who is coming off. 

“Here, Alison!” Daley runs over to her, “you can have my mallet!”

It was sweet how much the Butcher boy liked the Coopers. Even without relation, Lady Alison Cooper and Sir Mike Cooper had a certain aunt and uncle aura about them that enabled them to fit into the wayward side of the royal family so well.

“We’re going to take Dante for a walk now!” The small boy declares proudly to the four former spectators.  “Auntie said I was grown up enough to hold the lead this year!”  

“Only around the estate,” Fanny says, “and you will be accompanied by Mr Clawson of course.”

Daley wastes no time running towards Morris, Jemima overtaking him almost immediately as they race towards the Butcher butler and the small dog.

“Oh.. I didn’t realise,” says Lady Carol Butcher. “I was hoping Morris would be so kind as to escort me upstairs and continue to unpack our luggage. He is our butler after all…” 

Fanny eyes her suspiciously. Though she could not voice it, the elderly woman wondered if Lady Butcher was up to her old tricks and if there were any further intentions regarding Morris Clawson. 

“I can walk back with you, love.” Pat says with a toothy grin, adjusting his monocle and wrapping an arm around her.”

“There’s really no need, Patrick.” Lady Butcher laughs forcibly, “I know you would like to play to win now that the children have had their fun.”

Patrick smiles, thinking his wife is very sweet and thoughtful. “There are other days to play croquet, petal. I want to make sure you’re okay.” 

“Are you not feeling quite well, Carol?” Alison asks.

“I’m super thank you, Miss Cooper.” she says, “I merely want to rest.”

“Well I’m quite sure you won’t want Mr Clawson sorting out your luggage while you rest,” says Lady Button. “You can walk back to the house with us, Mr Clawson can take care of your belongings when we take for dinner later on, I’m sure. Come along.” 

Lady Butcher looks as though she is about to object, but nods. She glances back towards Morris who walks with the children and Dante, and then takes leave with her husband, Lady Button and Mr Fawcett. 

“Well…” Mike says watching the four of them go, “that’ll soften the blow when we inevitably lose.” 

Havers picks up a two mallet from the ground, chuckling as he does so.

“I’m starting to think you don’t like me very much, Michael.” Anthony says jokingly, chucking one of the mallets in Mike’s direction. 

“Oof!” Mike says, catching it.  “I mean if that’s your prerogative Anthony I can’t stop you thinking that. 

Anthony laughs,  holding up his mallet like one would a sword. His arm is rigid and straight.

“Have you ever duelled with a mallet?”

“No, but there is a first time for everything.”

“Well, how about it then good sir?” 

Mike chuckles, raising his own mallet up and clacks the two pieces of wood together. “You’ll regret it, Anthony. I tell you that right now.”

“Is that so?”

Alison laughs, “you guys are ridiculous. Besides, I think now that there are only four of us we could play it solo?”

“Yes!” Mike practically shouts. “I mean- yes, please.. Sorry Anthony.” 

Anthony strikes his mallet against the other mans in a playful jab. “Apology very much not accepted,” he laughs.

Mike attempts to stab back, then continues with a few sweeping motions that cause the ends of the sticks to tap together like a pair of claves.

“What are we…witnessing?” Kitty says, her head tilting to the side as she inspects the swordplay; or rather, mallet-play.

“You’re right, this is absolutely droll.” She says, removing her own blue mallet along the back of her shoulders and stepping forward. “En garde!” she shouts, holding her own mallet at the ready. 

Three mallets bat together now, Alison picking up the pace and pushing some distance between the two so that their motions can be bigger, more dramatic. 

Anthony spins his over his head, swooping back round to meet the other two ‘weapons’ with a loud clack.

“Pick that up at dance school did you?” Mike teases. 

Havers laughs, fending off the pair who also fend off one another. 

Kitty kicks off her shoes and joins in, dual-wielding two mallets and batting successfully to her left and right. 

The four friends battle each other now, laughter on the field of the Button House estate happier and more authentic than any hosted party could be, Lady Fanny thinks as she spies them from the downstairs window before heading to tea. Once upon a time perhaps she would’ve thought about decorum, but now all she can consider is the happiness of the four lords and ladies who happily playact without a care in the world and think of a life she herself had missed out on. Then of course there is Mr Havers, a man who was practically still a stranger to her but seemingly fit in so well with Kitty, Alison and Mike. She found herself more excited to get to know this potential suitor, and even more happy seeing how the man of eight and thirty made her niece smile.

It is unknown how long the swordfight would have gone on for, or what else would have transpired if not for the sequence of events that happened next. 

One moment there is laughter between friends, and then - chaos. 

“ALISON!” 

His panicked cry cuts through the soft breeze of June, the yell striking through the moment like a fighter jet. Little Daley trailing behind the sound as fast as his little legs could carry him as he shouts running towards the quartet.

“KITTY!”

“Daley?” Alison says her eyes widening with concern, moving towards the boy along with the others. “Daley, what’s the matter?” 

The boy takes a deep breath, having run across quite far across the estate.

“Dante fell off the bridge!” he says, practically gasping.

“Which one?” says Alison, her feet already starting to carry her in the direction the little boy had come from. 

 “The rickety one.” Daley says, and then Lady Cooper is off, moving faster now. With Lady Katherine at her heels, picking up her dress as she runs after her. The pair of them making their way to the rickety bridge.

The young boy takes another breath, his chest shaking with each struggling breath. “We- we-”

Anthony walks over to the boy, getting down to his level and offering him a flask of water. “You ran here super fast didn’t you? Drink up.”

Havers looks over Daley's shoulder, to the girls heading towards the treeline. “Which way does the stream run, do you know that?”

“Um-” Daley says after taking a sip, “I..I don’t know, sir.” 

He looks to Michael who looks equally perplexed, looking towards the trees in thought and then round at the fields and house as though trying to visualise which way the water did in fact run.

“Call me Anthony, kiddo.” Mr Havers says offers a kind smile standing up, “don’t fret- Mike, take him back to the house?”

“Sure.” Michael nods, and points in the direction south of the house with a look of uncertainty. “I believe the river is running that way.. It runs into the village.. And I think the village is that way… probably…”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll have a look. Could you inform Lady Button and the others what has happened? I will assist in the search and… maybe..well..” he looks to a shaken up Daley, “could you try to…distract him?”

“Of course.”

~

His horse’s breath almost sounded fed up as it huffed at the endless back and forthness of their direction, the clomping of its hoofs against the dirt was the only sound heard that did not naturally fall into the forest’s melody. All evidence was suggesting that Dante was nowhere near them at all. Looking around, the Prince wiped his hand over his moustache anxiously. He felt guilty that he was about to give up in his search but it had been some time since he had started. 

Perhaps the dog was already back at home after being successfully retrieved by Humphrey.

“Dante!” 

Or perhaps not. 

It was hard to ascertain where exactly the shout came from, it sounded relatively close but its origin’s whereabouts are lost amongst the vastness of brown and green as the forest absorbs it.

The Prince jumps from his horse, curious as to who is out here looking for Dante too. Presumably, someone who worked up at the house; it was certainly not a voice he recognised.

“Dante!” The person calls again. 

This time the sound seems closer, as though the person were moving towards him. James walks in the direction in which it came, gently prompting his steed to follow by pulling at the reins. 

At the sound of trickling water, he knows he’s near the river that runs through the forest and so he pushes forward a little bit further. He knows at the very least that if he were to walk upstream he would eventually find the rickety bridge and be able to find his way back to Button House.

What he doesn’t know as he approaches the river bank, however, is the person who stands with their back to him. 

From behind it is hard to decipher much. They are tall, with dark hair and shoulders that at least from behind appear rather broad. They stand looking out to the other side of the stream, one hand on their hip and the other held up in front of their face; probably to their forehead because how else can a person effectively search?

James goes to speak. 

His horse decides to beat him to the punch, letting out a loud whinny. 

This in turn causes the person in front of him to turn around quickly.

Anthony meets them with wide startled eyes, but only ever so briefly because as he twists he loses his footing and falls backwards into the river.