idareyou | (no subject)

Jamie doesn't knock before sticking his head in, though he realizes belatedly he should have.

"Mary? You alright?"

"Oh, yes!" Wait, should she not be alright? "Ah--that is--" Her cheeks feel much too hot for someone who has been languishing. "Was the service good?"

Jamie definitely does not seem to notice.

"Same as ever," he says with a shrug. "I think Annabella fell asleep."

She laughs a little too much at that. (Entirely too much from the pious point of view, but more importantly too much from a having-a-headache point of view.) Too much and too giddily: Mary can hear it in her voice. She sits up and bites her lip.

"James--James? I should tell you...I..." She creases the linens between her fingertips. "I did not really have a headache. Well, I did, but not very much. Mostly I...I had a visitor. From...eh bien, from Milliways."

"What? --wait, what?"

Jamie looks to the door: he left it half open. He throws over to slam it shut, then turns back to Mary.

"You brought someone here? From there?"

"...Yes?" She bites her lip again. It seems a little less funny when he asks her about it. "It was just my friend. My friend Cosette. You met her..."

Cosette. Cosette?

Oh! "The-- from that party? With the--" He gestures towards his head to indicate something like "giant curly hairdo."

"Yes. That is Cosette. Baroness Pontmercy." Mary sits up very straight and shakes her own hair back. "She wanted to see a Scottish castle. So I asked her to come."

"Are you mad?" Jamie cries. "Suppose someone had seen her, what would you have said?!"

"We were very careful. She wore a dress from here, an old dress from one of those chests. If anyone had come into the store-room they would have just seen a Scottish lady."

It does sound a little mad. When he puts it that way. Mary presses her lips together and lifts her chin. "And no one did see her."

Edited 2017-02-26 01:48 (UTC)

"Aye, but still!"

She's right, of course-- no one saw, and Cosette is gone, and it's all fine. But that's not entirely the point. He doesn't like the thought of any part of Milliways coming here, of the two worlds bleeding into each other. It was one thing for Mary to turn up there, but now to bring things here--

"Just-- don't do it again."

Mary holds his gaze a little longer before dropping her eyes. "Yes, your majesty."

She's cross with herself as soon as she says the words. It just sounds childish and sulky. But she can't quite make herself apologize. She was careful, and no one did see Cosette, and--and they had a lovely time.

"Come on," he protests. "You canny be bringing-- you know I'm right! It's no safe, it's-- right, it's done, it doesny matter, just--"

He doesn't know how to conclude that thought. Giving orders is just as uncomfortable as he always suspected it would be.

She smooths out the creases she'd made in the linens, still not looking at him. "Yes. I know you are right. But..." Now she glances up, just a quick peek at his face. "But it was very nice to have a friend to talk to."

"So talk to her there, where it's safe, eh?"

"Yes, but..." Another glance. "But James, it was very nice to have someone visit. Like a little small party. I put out a little meal for us..."

The words don't seem to be conveying what she wants them to convey: the pleasure of playing hostess, the pleasure of showing off a place that is at least a little bit hers. "I liked having a guest, in my home."

--yeah, she's never going to express the pleasure of hosting to Jamie, who looks uncomfortable even at that plain description.

"So have a Scottish guest, have a French guest, don't have a guest we canny ever explain."

"Who? Who? Mon Dieu, votre majesté, who can I ask? I do not know anyone here, I have one friend--one!--and it is her home more than it is mine. Eh bien, vous avez raison, it is a bad idea, I should not to bring someone here from there, I will not again. But to say have a Scottish guest, have a French guest, as if I can just do that, c'est de la folie!"

She puts her hands to her mouth as soon as the last words are out. "No, I..."

"That's just how it is, what d'you want me to say?" Jamie snaps. "I've not got anyone but a council filled with old men, but you'll no see me greiting about it! Christ, it's just-- how it is."

But she's upset. But he doesn't know what else to say. He drops his gaze to the floor.

"Listen, right, it's-- it's Christmas soon. There's always all sorts about for the holidays."

And they don't even use real words here, greeting means something else entirely or it did when she was learning English--

Mary scrubs her face with her hands. This isn't at all how she means to be, complaining and near-tearful and throwing out indirect bitter comments. It's not the way to be angry, it's not the way to manage at all. "The holidays will be good," she says slowly.

"If I didny have to be king--" He scrubs his hands over his face. "I don't like it either, you know."

No. No, he doesn't seem to like it either. Mary scoots over a little on the bed, making room for him to sit next to her if he'd like. "I should have asked you before asking a friend to come here from--from there."

He doesn't come sit. He folds his arms over his chest and frowns down at the floor again. "Aye, well-- it's done now. No harm done."

"No harm done." Well, there really isn't any harm done.

If he had come to sit with her, she would ask about the Christmas holidays, ask what sorts of things they do in Scotland. They could tell stories about what they did when they were children, and what games they liked best, and what sweets. But he's still standing over there, tall and frowning, with his arms crossed, and Mary can't make herself try.

"I have some embroidery I must work on," she says after a silence.

Edited 2017-02-26 21:00 (UTC)

He knows he ought to go over and sit by her, try harder to make her feel at home. He gracious and gentle, and make her feel at home, reassure her that he doesn't mind about Cosette really, that he understands why she did it and doesn't blame her. And they could make plans for the holidays to come. The King of Scots and his Queen.

"Right, then," he says. "I'll-- be seeing you."

"Yes."

She gathers herself up and takes herself out of the room, since she's now committed herself to embroidery. (Which is stupid and she doesn't want to do it and really she could stop right now as she walks past him, right this moment she could stop and put a hand on his arm and do a better job of explaining why she likes to talk with Cosette and do a better job of explaining that she does see now that she should at least have talked to James first about inviting someone to the castle--but she brushes past him instead, tucking away her skirts.)

Edited 2017-02-26 22:43 (UTC)