A Beating Heart

***Start of the year 1773.***

My husband looked bigger in my small quarters. I had asked for the plainest sheets, paintings and furniture, in order to provide myself some peace and quiet from the hearvily decorated court and the constant chatter that came with it.

"Clarice," said my husband, but he fell silent when he saw the sharp look I gave him,

"I did not respond to your letter," I said simply, "I thought I had obtained that right after six years."

He swallowed. The military man who was praised all over the country did not know what to say.

When he looked up, I saw shame in his eyes.

"I prioritized my duty as an officer over my duty as a husband," he said, his dark, honest eyes looking at me.

"I do not regret it."

I wanted to slam my hands against the wood of my dressing table. I wanted to throw my box with powder at him. I wanted him to be put through all the lectures of Lady Silverton. I wanted him to understand the loneliness, the humiliation, the abandonment.

But he was a man of the army, and he understood none of these things.

However, through the lack of shame, I did see an honest incliniation to try to understand.

"You could have written to me, you know."

He sighed, and sat down on my bed, which was only ever made with white sheets. Perhaps I was plainer than all the other Ladies at court, but I liked it that way.

"I didn't think you would want to hear from me."

"At first I didn't," I admitted, "but it would have been nice to provide the Queen or the other Ladies with some sort of proof that we are in fact married, and that the General doesn't totally abandon his wife."

He looked at me in confusion.

"I didn't think the court would involve itself with such trivial matters."

"They are not trivial matters to me!"

To my shame, I started to cry.

I heard him rise from the bed, and felt warm hands on my back.

"I'm here now, Clarice," said his rough voice, more gentle than I had heard it this evening.

"You're so late," I sobbed, thinking about Fredrick. And about how ironic it was that he had abandoned me this night, a dangerous night during which I had needed him, and that it had been up to my husband to take care of me.

"Will you stay at court?" I asked him.

I felt my husband's beating heart against my ear. He must have been nervous for my response. And I didn't know what to do with that information. I didn't know how to continue now that my world was once again turned upside down. I had made some sort of piece with life at court, without my husband, with Frederick. But now that I was a Lady-in-Waiting to no one, I could suddenly once again be the General's wife.

If he would stay this time. And if I would want him to.

"I will, for the time being," he said.

He took my face in his hands, and I was surprised by how happy I felt when I saw that all the attention of his dark eyes was on me.

"To tell you the truth, I'm terrified of court. I have never understood it. Therefore I will surely need you."

I giggled, and was immediatly surpsied at myself.

"Have you ever been to court before?"

My husband nodded.

"A few times, before I left you, but never long. However, I have a exchanged many letters with the King."

Resentment immediately rose in my chest, but I didn't show it. Not now that he was finally talking to me.

"I hold the King in extremely high regard," he said guiltily when he saw my face, "and even as a dismissed General, I feel it is my duty to investigate this."

"As a former servant of the King?"

He looked down at me.

"And as his friend."

I couldn't help but smile my jealousy and anger away when I saw his sincere expression. Despite his abandoning me, I loved how honourable he was.

He moved his index-finger under my chin.

"But I promise, Clarice," he said, solemnly, "that whatever I will do from now on, I will not leave your side again."

I gently took his hand from underneath my chin.

"You are welcome to stay at court, and to remain by my side. But forgive me if I need a little more time to believe in your sincerity."

He smiled sadly at me.

"That that is what I will do."

I smiled back, a certain giddiness floating through me.

"As long as you don't surprise the court again with your shouting."

"That I can't promise," he replied.

I hadn't thought that he could be so witty and I was about to give him a playful retort when the door suddenly opened slowly.

The candlelight revealed a disheveled Frederick.

"Clarice!" he shouted, "I have been looking all over for you."

He stumbled in until he became aware of Peyton's presence.

"Look who has finally decided to be a dutiful husband," he sneered.

Mortified, I looked at Frederick, who clearly wasn't himself at the moment, and my composed husband. Who was becoming less and less composed by the second.

"I am aware of my shortcomings, Sir?"

"Frederick Willis," said the Master of Protocol, who wasn't very proper now, or ever.

"And why, exactly, are you coming to my wife's room in the middle of the night?" His tone had an icy ring to it.

Frederick looked at me, then at my husband, and then at me. A question burned in his eyes. But I shook my head. Not here, and not now.

"I have been watching over her, Mister Thomas, while other's were occupied."

It wouldn't have made a difference if he had said that we were fornicating in my husband's absence.

"Thank you for watching over my wife," said Peyton coolly, while taking Frederick in, "but I'm afraid your services are not necessary at present. If I am ever too occupied to look out for my wife's safety, I will let you know."

Frederick looked like he was about to spit in both our faces, but he didn't. Instead, he gave me one last, meaningful look before heading off into the candlelit hallway. I knew one thing. Life at court would never be the same again.