while there were always foreign ambassadors at the english court, evangeline usually got away with dismissing her ladies and wearing simpler clothes of grey or black muslin. but now that the foreign population of the english court had seemingly doubled, she had no such privileges anymore. especially since she was a royal, and all eyes were on the royal family. she had already begun dressing nicer and her walks were accompanied once more by her ladies, but these actions were merely solidified by the queen’s letters to her daughters. her biggest concern was the eldest princess; since the incident, she had become a skeleton of the jewel she once was. still beautiful, still intelligent, still charming, but reclusive; not quite dead from court, but not quite alive, either.
evangeline supported the engagement and the fostering of peace between the two nations, although she didn’t have much of a choice. besides, even if she were to oppose it, who would listen to her? as was tradition after daily mass, evangeline set out on the nearby city to do various works of charity. not only did she do it merely out of christian practice, but also to escape the palace, even for just a little bit. today, she was to give alms to the poor. usually she’d set out by herself, dressed in her least finest clothes. however, today she was dressed in fine robes of red that were adorned with pearls and rubies, and surrounded by ladies dressed in ivory silk. their calm walk was interrupted by a wave of the hand and a rather rude remark, especially to a woman of her station. “my lord,” evangeline said calmly, “surely your prior engagements would understand your tardiness if it meant showing proper respect to your princess.”
It was quite rare for anything to truly horrify Rick; he was too detached, and cared little for his own disastrous reputation. Some of this detachment, of course, came with the privilege he could never acknowledge: as a man, and a man of very high birth, of impeccable lineage, with almost unlimited wealth, a terrible reputation could harm him but little - he was already engaged, and any of his, well, indiscretions, tended to be laughed off as youthful high spirits (though he was not quite so youthful anymore). Besides, there were few with the power to hurt him. He was no Duke, but the Fitzalan name went back to the Conquest. They were close to the throne, and were trusted -- or at least, Rick’s late father had been trusted. He didn’t think the King would trust him with one of his spaniels, but no matter; Rick told himself he didn’t mind, however the memory of his father’s exhortations haunted him.
A disappointment; he knew full well that that was what he was, and was only glad that his father had not lived long enough to see his descent into true dissolution. The Fitzalans served the throne, not themselves, that had been his father’s resounding admonition; though loyalty to the crown was not so fashionable as it had once been. Rick enjoyed the company of Prince James, but cared little for the King, and paid almost no attention to the shifting alliances of foreign policy. The presence of the Princess, however, sent something purely instinctive firing in his brain, and his expression was, for a moment, the picture of a man who knew he had crossed one of the only internal lines he kept to.
“Your Grace,” he said, bowing low. “I can only apologise. I would not have spoken so had I been paying any attention - I am your servant.”
The most frustrating thing was that Princess Evangeline had never been one to be taken in by charm, and charm was the only thing Rick felt he could fall back upon these days. Hopefully his evidently sincere contrition would save him.
