Prune 29, Cookies & Cream 15 [Divide and Rule]
Title: When the Clock Strikes Twelve
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Prune #29 (I’ll get you for this), Cookies & Cream #15 (throw)
Toppings/Extras: None.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3486
Notes: May 1950; Edward Iveson/Julia Graves, Diana Foyle, Stephen Foyle.
Summary: Sometimes Julia wishes Edward would approach birthdays like a normal person.
***
“Well,” said Julia, having turned to the subject of her approaching birthday, “it’s too late now to arrange a party - and I’m glad, anyway. I really wouldn’t want any fuss. So, I think -” She stopped, Edward’s expression of dismay having become impossible to ignore. “Oh,” she said. “Ned, what have you done?”
His expression shifted to one of guilt, as he hunched in slightly, but she could see that there was also a small amused lift at the corner of his mouth. “Ah, yes, well, what I was in fact trying to tell you if you’d let me, was that I’m afraid I have arranged for a party. Not a very large one and hopefully not anything you wouldn’t like, but I thought it wouldn’t be much fun for you to have to plan it, so I asked Diana -”
“And then,” Julia said, recounting the tale to Diana herself on the day, “he confessed everything, and I really could kill him. I didn’t want a fuss - I thought it would just be us. He will do this sort of thing -” She halted herself, recollecting in time how insensitive it was to grumble about Edward trying too hard to please her when Diana was married to Stephen who only seemed to spend his time reminding Diana how much he hated her.
Diana merely shook her head, pins in her mouth preventing her from replying, as she was busy adjusting Julia’s costume for the evening. It was a theatrical eighteenth century dress in white and yellow with wide skirts, frills at the elbows, and a stiff bodice that Diana was currently taking in.
Diana pinned the waistline as Julia kept still, and then she rose, surveying her handiwork with some satisfaction. “There! And, Julia, he’s just glad to have you. Is that really so terrible?”
“Oh, I know - ignore me,” said Julia. It was impossible to explain. She didn’t entirely understand all her feelings herself, but she couldn’t help feeling afraid at any too evident displays of happiness between them. She’d think in panic that they should keep it all secret, hide it from the rest of the world, before the spell broke and everything fell back into ashes. Letting everyone else see was only asking for somebody to take it all away. Julia had lost too much already and she couldn’t bear the idea of something happening to Edward. She blinked away tears. And, there, she thought, that was the other thing - she’d probably cry at the party and shame herself, and Edward ought to know better than to do this to her.
Diana knelt down to straighten Julia’s long skirt and flickered a wry glance back up at her. “Well, don’t worry. It won’t last, you know. You’re still in the honeymoon period. Give it another year and you’ll be put out instead because he never even remembers your anniversary or your birthday.”
“I don’t think Edward forgets things like that,” said Julia. “He just stores up information and approaches the whole thing as if it’s a covert operation. Anyway, I’m sorry, Diana. I’m the most thoughtless beast alive to complain about a thing like that to you.”
Diana straightened up again and patted Julia’s arm. “You needn’t worry about me.”
“Whose idea was the fancy dress?” asked Julia, after a pause during which time Diana tucked some more pins in round the sides of her sleeves, tightening them. Julia had been sure from the moment she’d learned of it that that part at least had not come from Edward.
Diana smiled. “Mine, of course. Edward asked me to host and explained that you wouldn’t want anything too large or too much of a fuss, and I thought something to break the ice was a must, anyway, and it’ll mean that the attention will be shared around a little more. Perhaps a little yesteryear, but in the right way, I think.”
“Thank you,” said Julia. “And I promise to at least try not to make a fool of myself and blub in front of everyone. I - I do seem prone to these days.”
Diana gave her a cautious hug, mindful of the pins. “My dear. It doesn’t matter. Nobody is coming that you don’t like - and now that you’ve warned me, I shall make certain to have several clean hankies to hand. Cry all you wish!”
Julia had to laugh.
“You’ve had a difficult time these last few years,” said Diana. “I expect Edward wants to make it up to you as much as he can.”
It was better not to, Julia thought, her heart beating harder again. Edward should know that - he should know never to tempt fate.
“No, no, I’ve not quite done - stay where you are,” Diana said, as she applied the finishing touches to Julia’s hair, which had taken longer than either of them had bargained for. She stood back to survey her handiwork. “Yes, I think that works nicely.”
Julia stared back at herself in the mirror with a pleased smile and nodded, before turning around to face Diana. “I wouldn’t want to do this every day.”
“If you were a real eighteenth century lady, you’d have a maid,” said Diana. “One who knew what she was doing, even. And a wig, or a hairpiece at least.”
Julia glanced around for her watch and found it on the dressing table. “But what about you? Time is getting on.”
“Oh, the first rule of these things is always to find something simple for oneself. I am going to be a nun, so now I merely have to get into the habit.”
Julia shook her head and tried not to groan too loudly. “You must have been waiting all day to say that!”
“Besides,” said Diana, “if we’re blaming Edward for the party, then we ought to pay him back in some way, and I think this should do the trick nicely.”
Julia couldn’t think what she meant. She was sure Diana had said earlier that she had sent over the nearest match to this - whatever that might be - for him, so it couldn’t be his costume, or she certainly hoped not.
“You, idiot,” said Diana, giving her a gentle push back towards the mirror. “I didn’t tell him what you were going as, and even if he works out that your outfit must be from a similar period to his, he still doesn’t know and so -” She stopped and gave an elegant wave of her hand towards Julia.
Julia glanced at herself in the mirror again, raising her head. It did suit her, she thought. She recognised, ruefully, that she never would be the world’s most modest person. “Honestly,” she muttered, if only for appearance’s sake. “Diana!”
Diana only laughed.
Once downstairs, Julia paused again to examine herself in the full-length mirror in the hallway. She knew she’d said once to Edward about dressing up for parties, like Mother - at that affair at the Embassy, the one she counted as their first real date, the visit to the theatre being too uncertain and interrupted by unrest in the streets. He had remembered. She laughed to herself and gave a slight twirl.
“So, was it worth it, Cinders?”
Julia swung around more sharply, barely managing to stifle a squeak of alarm at being caught out admiring herself. “Mr Foyle!” She shook herself. “And I’m sorry; I don’t know what you mean.”
“Your bargain,” he said, watching her with a slight, knowing smile as he leant against the banister. “Did you get what you wanted, marrying Iveson?”
She swallowed, realising that for probably the first time she’d met him, he might actually be sober. Somehow it was more disconcerting than his usual drunk sniping at Diana and her guests. She had to swallow back anger, wanting to rage at him for daring to suggest anything of the kind, but the uncomfortable truth was that her marriage had originally been one of convenience and she would rather not lie about that, even to Stephen Foyle. “Yes,” she said instead, setting her face. “Because, as it happens, I love Edward.”
“Nice for you,” he said. “I found mine something of a disappointment - but then, you’ve time for that to come yet.”
Julia felt the warmth rise in her cheeks, even angrier that he would talk to her about Diana in such a way. She stiffened. “Diana has been very kind to me.”
“She would,” he said, peeling himself off the side of the banister. “Any waifs and strays, and Diana’s all over them. If they’re not even English, all the better.”
That was too old and tiresome a thrust for Julia to keep from glaring openly at him. “I am English. Sometimes I wish I weren’t, of course.”
“You know what I mean. Your family is German.”
Julia recognised the underlying hate; it was familiar enough by now. She’d had it first at school and enough other times during the war. She understood why, of course, but it was always unpleasant, sometimes even frightening. “Please excuse me - I need to find Diana.”
“Of course,” said Stephen, mocking again, and standing aside with exaggerated politeness. “And don’t worry, I’m not attending. I have an appointment with a relative, but I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
Julia brushed past him, and emerged into the kitchen, where Diana was looking over the trays the catering company had brought, and breathed out in relief.
“Oh,” said Diana, as she looked up and saw her. “Did you run into Stephen in the hallway? I’m sorry.”
Julia shook her head. “Don’t be. We should be sorry. I’m here, grumbling about Edward - and this party? Is he annoyed about it?”
“Not any more than usual,” said Diana with an easy smile. “There’s no need to worry about that. And he won’t be here - I arranged for his uncle to ask him over. And since he’s one of the few people left who’ll still lend Stephen money from time to time, he won’t dare refuse the summons.”
Julia gave a nod, but she still felt upset by the exchange, and by her earlier thoughtlessness. Even if Edward hated her, which was thankfully hard to imagine, he’d never behave like that to any of her friends or guests in the house. Stephen would, it seemed.
Cinders, she thought again, his initial jab cutting home again. It came to close for comfort, and she might well be dressed up as Cinderella, which suddenly made her feel sick, as if perhaps everything was a joke she wasn’t in on and everybody else - Edward and Diana and Mr Harding, all of them - were all mocking her, setting her up like this. She knew it couldn’t be true, but she shivered nonetheless and felt her pleasurable anticipation for the party die away.
“You’re late,” said Julia, pouncing on Edward the moment he came through the front door. “You arrange for a party I didn’t ask for and then you can’t even be on time for it.”
He grinned at her from under a mask and hat. “I’m only five minutes late at the most. I’m sorry - I did mean to be early, but I was cornered by Fields, of all people, and then the traffic was -”
“Are you a highwayman?” asked Julia, more interested in his costume than his excuses. She stretched up, kissed him lightly, and removed both the mask and large hat as she did so. “There. Now I can see you again.”
Edward made a half-hearted grab at the hat, but Julia thrust it behind her back and stepped away from him. “Well, I was supposed to be a highwayman, I think, but I’m not much of one if you won’t give me that back.”
Julia took another step away from him and shook her head. “It’s my birthday and I want to see your face. Consider yourself reformed.”
“Anything for you,” he said, with another grin, amusement lighting his face, and he bent to kiss her hand.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Edward straightened himself, raising an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t think I was. What are you, anyway? Well, apart from more than usually charming, of course.”
Julia glanced down at herself, her smile fading away. “Diana said I was an eighteenth century lady, no one in particular - but it did come out of somebody’s collection of theatrical outfits and I think maybe I am Cinderella, and I’d rather not be.”
“Julia,” he said, but then they both had to turn as Colonel and Mrs North came in through the door, Diana hurrying over to greet them. Having paused to say hello and admire their outfits, Edward took Julia by the arm and drew her into the cloakroom.
He moved in to face her, putting a hand to her cheek. “Diana wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t have asked her to host this if I thought she was the sort of person who would.”
“I know,” said Julia, “but still - in some ways I am!”
Edward looked back at her, hesitating, as if he wasn’t sure what to say. He probably wasn’t.
Julia forced a smile, blinking back threatening tears, and caught hold of his wide sleeve. “You do see, don’t you? It doesn’t matter what’s happened since, when we married, I didn’t even know you at all, not really. I agreed for my own selfish reasons. And that’s why I don’t want anything else - not necklaces or parties.” She gave a short laugh. “I’m sorry. Not that they’re not nice, of course. But you have to know that I would be happy with the smallest token - with only us. I don’t want you to think otherwise. I can’t bear it if you do.” And he did, sometimes, she knew, even if he didn’t really believe it - he still wondered and worried.
“Yes, I think I’d already worked that one out,” said Edward. “You did shout at me for rather a while last week over it.” He put his fingers to her chin lightly. “Anyway, darling, you can’t possibly be Cinderella - or at least, something’s gone badly awry if you are, since you shouldn’t have wound up with a highwayman, not even an unconvincing one.”
Julia laughed, despite herself. “It might make for a more interesting story. I don’t suppose the highwayman had ever held up a coach that turned into a pumpkin before.”
He kissed her, pushing her back amongst the coats and scarves. Julia closed her eyes and didn’t point out that she should be out in the hall welcoming any remaining guests, slipping her arms around his neck and abandoning her fears.
“Oh, really,” said Diana, opening the cloakroom door. “If you must, you must, I suppose, but there’s no sense hiding in here when everyone’s arriving and I’m in and out every two minutes. There are quieter corners. I’ll direct you to one, if you like.”
Julia gave an embarrassed laugh and slipped her hand into Edward’s even as he tried to apologise. “You’ve only yourself to blame,” she told Diana. “You were the one who made him come as a highwayman. And now, look what happens!”
“I didn’t mean to surprise you, you know,” Edward said later, as they were dancing. “You enjoy most of these things we go to more than I do - I thought you’d like it, only first I had to ask Diana and wait for her to be sure she could -”
Julia smiled at him. “I know. And I am enjoying it. Especially now.”
“Really?” said Edward. “It’s rather awkward - cramped -” As if to prove his point, they had to move over to avoid bumping into Colonel and Mrs North. “And this is a waltz, so I think we’re being anachronistic.”
She bit her lip, struggling not to laugh in the middle of Diana’s living room. Instead she leant her head against him for a moment. “I’ve got a zip at the back, you know,” she murmured. “And you keep telling me you’re not a very convincing highwayman. I don’t think we should worry too much, darling.” If only, she thought, they could stay right here in this moment forever; they’d be safe that way. Julia closed her eyes.
“When you want to go home, just say,” he said, causing her to lift her head again and look at him in mild surprise. “It’s fine. I’ve got everything sorted with Diana, I promise.”
She nodded. “Thank you. Although I’ll need to get changed first -”
“No,” said Edward and when she raised her eyebrows at him, he added, “I told you, I arranged it all with Diana. I’ll bring it back round with mine in the morning.”
Julia had to try and hide laughter again. “But I could, after all. Unless you’d rather I didn’t?”
“There you have me,” said Edward and grinned.
Julia nodded, and tightened her hold on him. “Yes, I do, don’t I?”
On the short cab ride home, Julia had found herself caught somewhere between the unreal, charmed world of her birthday party and the encroaching dark reality around them. They were still wearing their costumes, which looked far more improbable now, and Julia was feeling a little misted at the edges with both champagne and happiness. When they climbed back out of the cab, Edward helping her out, both of them laughingly fighting with the wide skirt that hadn’t been designed for modern transport, there was a cold bite to the night air, and she shivered.
“Julia?” said Edward as he followed her in through the front door.
She turned to watch as he locked the door and thought again, rather soberly, about Edward and Stephen and how lucky she’d been, when she had been so unwise.
“What now?” Edward asked, a wary crease deepening between his brows. “You did enjoy the party, didn’t you?”
Julia nodded.
“But…?” he prompted, following her up the stairs. “If I ever do such a thing again, I will give you more warning, I promise.”
“Don’t be so silly,” Julia said. “I’ve told you a dozen times now that I enjoyed it very much. It’s only that I started thinking about what Stephen Foyle said again.”
Edward lightly kicked the bedroom door shut. “Well, don’t. If we’re going to go back over all of that, you know it was far more my fault than yours. I was the one who took advantage of your situation -”
“Why?” she said, sitting down on the bed. “I’m glad you did, but it was mad, you know. Not like you at all.”
He laughed, pulling off the elaborate neck cloth and shrugging off the coat before he sat down beside her. “Julia, I don’t know.”
“It’s my birthday,” she said, putting out a hand to keep him back until he made the effort. “Try.” She was still the same selfish person who’d said yes to a proposal from a virtual stranger, all because she wanted someone in her life, someone who would love her, admire her - and Edward had seemed as if he already might. And yet, if anyone else she’d known had asked her, she wouldn’t have said yes.
Edward shook his head. “I can’t.”
“It was love at first sight,” said Julia, determined to provoke him into trying to put it into words. “Or you only tell the worst news to girls you really like.”
He shook his head. “Julia. And it wasn’t - I would never put it like that, you know that.”
“How did you put it to yourself?” she asked. “Not the excuses - not how useful it was for your career, or about the organisation, or even my situation.”
Edward pulled her in nearer to him. “I can’t make it more romantic, or explain it. I just wanted you in my life more than I’d ever wanted anything before or since, that’s all.”
“How dreadful,” said Julia, pausing to kiss him mid-sentence. “But, you know, I think that is romantic. Much more so than all the political and pragmatic reasons you gave me back then.”
He gave a laugh. “Yes, I’m sorry. Really, let’s not think about any of that, not now -”
“No, no,” she said. “I’m glad you said all that at the time, honestly. I’d never have thought of such good excuses to agree otherwise. And if I hadn’t,” she added, meeting his gaze in a moment of complete seriousness, “I don’t know where I’d be, but it wouldn’t be anywhere as nice as this. Which is so far from what we deserve, for what we did - that’s why it scares me sometimes.” Or one of the reasons, she thought, not yet able to shake off the fear of losing him, not yet.
Edward nodded. “I know,” he said. “So it’s better not to think of it like that.”
“Yes,” said Julia more cheerfully, winding her arms about his neck. “Quite right; let’s not.”
***
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Prune #29 (I’ll get you for this), Cookies & Cream #15 (throw)
Toppings/Extras: None.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3486
Notes: May 1950; Edward Iveson/Julia Graves, Diana Foyle, Stephen Foyle.
Summary: Sometimes Julia wishes Edward would approach birthdays like a normal person.
***
“Well,” said Julia, having turned to the subject of her approaching birthday, “it’s too late now to arrange a party - and I’m glad, anyway. I really wouldn’t want any fuss. So, I think -” She stopped, Edward’s expression of dismay having become impossible to ignore. “Oh,” she said. “Ned, what have you done?”
His expression shifted to one of guilt, as he hunched in slightly, but she could see that there was also a small amused lift at the corner of his mouth. “Ah, yes, well, what I was in fact trying to tell you if you’d let me, was that I’m afraid I have arranged for a party. Not a very large one and hopefully not anything you wouldn’t like, but I thought it wouldn’t be much fun for you to have to plan it, so I asked Diana -”
“And then,” Julia said, recounting the tale to Diana herself on the day, “he confessed everything, and I really could kill him. I didn’t want a fuss - I thought it would just be us. He will do this sort of thing -” She halted herself, recollecting in time how insensitive it was to grumble about Edward trying too hard to please her when Diana was married to Stephen who only seemed to spend his time reminding Diana how much he hated her.
Diana merely shook her head, pins in her mouth preventing her from replying, as she was busy adjusting Julia’s costume for the evening. It was a theatrical eighteenth century dress in white and yellow with wide skirts, frills at the elbows, and a stiff bodice that Diana was currently taking in.
Diana pinned the waistline as Julia kept still, and then she rose, surveying her handiwork with some satisfaction. “There! And, Julia, he’s just glad to have you. Is that really so terrible?”
“Oh, I know - ignore me,” said Julia. It was impossible to explain. She didn’t entirely understand all her feelings herself, but she couldn’t help feeling afraid at any too evident displays of happiness between them. She’d think in panic that they should keep it all secret, hide it from the rest of the world, before the spell broke and everything fell back into ashes. Letting everyone else see was only asking for somebody to take it all away. Julia had lost too much already and she couldn’t bear the idea of something happening to Edward. She blinked away tears. And, there, she thought, that was the other thing - she’d probably cry at the party and shame herself, and Edward ought to know better than to do this to her.
Diana knelt down to straighten Julia’s long skirt and flickered a wry glance back up at her. “Well, don’t worry. It won’t last, you know. You’re still in the honeymoon period. Give it another year and you’ll be put out instead because he never even remembers your anniversary or your birthday.”
“I don’t think Edward forgets things like that,” said Julia. “He just stores up information and approaches the whole thing as if it’s a covert operation. Anyway, I’m sorry, Diana. I’m the most thoughtless beast alive to complain about a thing like that to you.”
Diana straightened up again and patted Julia’s arm. “You needn’t worry about me.”
“Whose idea was the fancy dress?” asked Julia, after a pause during which time Diana tucked some more pins in round the sides of her sleeves, tightening them. Julia had been sure from the moment she’d learned of it that that part at least had not come from Edward.
Diana smiled. “Mine, of course. Edward asked me to host and explained that you wouldn’t want anything too large or too much of a fuss, and I thought something to break the ice was a must, anyway, and it’ll mean that the attention will be shared around a little more. Perhaps a little yesteryear, but in the right way, I think.”
“Thank you,” said Julia. “And I promise to at least try not to make a fool of myself and blub in front of everyone. I - I do seem prone to these days.”
Diana gave her a cautious hug, mindful of the pins. “My dear. It doesn’t matter. Nobody is coming that you don’t like - and now that you’ve warned me, I shall make certain to have several clean hankies to hand. Cry all you wish!”
Julia had to laugh.
“You’ve had a difficult time these last few years,” said Diana. “I expect Edward wants to make it up to you as much as he can.”
It was better not to, Julia thought, her heart beating harder again. Edward should know that - he should know never to tempt fate.
“No, no, I’ve not quite done - stay where you are,” Diana said, as she applied the finishing touches to Julia’s hair, which had taken longer than either of them had bargained for. She stood back to survey her handiwork. “Yes, I think that works nicely.”
Julia stared back at herself in the mirror with a pleased smile and nodded, before turning around to face Diana. “I wouldn’t want to do this every day.”
“If you were a real eighteenth century lady, you’d have a maid,” said Diana. “One who knew what she was doing, even. And a wig, or a hairpiece at least.”
Julia glanced around for her watch and found it on the dressing table. “But what about you? Time is getting on.”
“Oh, the first rule of these things is always to find something simple for oneself. I am going to be a nun, so now I merely have to get into the habit.”
Julia shook her head and tried not to groan too loudly. “You must have been waiting all day to say that!”
“Besides,” said Diana, “if we’re blaming Edward for the party, then we ought to pay him back in some way, and I think this should do the trick nicely.”
Julia couldn’t think what she meant. She was sure Diana had said earlier that she had sent over the nearest match to this - whatever that might be - for him, so it couldn’t be his costume, or she certainly hoped not.
“You, idiot,” said Diana, giving her a gentle push back towards the mirror. “I didn’t tell him what you were going as, and even if he works out that your outfit must be from a similar period to his, he still doesn’t know and so -” She stopped and gave an elegant wave of her hand towards Julia.
Julia glanced at herself in the mirror again, raising her head. It did suit her, she thought. She recognised, ruefully, that she never would be the world’s most modest person. “Honestly,” she muttered, if only for appearance’s sake. “Diana!”
Diana only laughed.
Once downstairs, Julia paused again to examine herself in the full-length mirror in the hallway. She knew she’d said once to Edward about dressing up for parties, like Mother - at that affair at the Embassy, the one she counted as their first real date, the visit to the theatre being too uncertain and interrupted by unrest in the streets. He had remembered. She laughed to herself and gave a slight twirl.
“So, was it worth it, Cinders?”
Julia swung around more sharply, barely managing to stifle a squeak of alarm at being caught out admiring herself. “Mr Foyle!” She shook herself. “And I’m sorry; I don’t know what you mean.”
“Your bargain,” he said, watching her with a slight, knowing smile as he leant against the banister. “Did you get what you wanted, marrying Iveson?”
She swallowed, realising that for probably the first time she’d met him, he might actually be sober. Somehow it was more disconcerting than his usual drunk sniping at Diana and her guests. She had to swallow back anger, wanting to rage at him for daring to suggest anything of the kind, but the uncomfortable truth was that her marriage had originally been one of convenience and she would rather not lie about that, even to Stephen Foyle. “Yes,” she said instead, setting her face. “Because, as it happens, I love Edward.”
“Nice for you,” he said. “I found mine something of a disappointment - but then, you’ve time for that to come yet.”
Julia felt the warmth rise in her cheeks, even angrier that he would talk to her about Diana in such a way. She stiffened. “Diana has been very kind to me.”
“She would,” he said, peeling himself off the side of the banister. “Any waifs and strays, and Diana’s all over them. If they’re not even English, all the better.”
That was too old and tiresome a thrust for Julia to keep from glaring openly at him. “I am English. Sometimes I wish I weren’t, of course.”
“You know what I mean. Your family is German.”
Julia recognised the underlying hate; it was familiar enough by now. She’d had it first at school and enough other times during the war. She understood why, of course, but it was always unpleasant, sometimes even frightening. “Please excuse me - I need to find Diana.”
“Of course,” said Stephen, mocking again, and standing aside with exaggerated politeness. “And don’t worry, I’m not attending. I have an appointment with a relative, but I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
Julia brushed past him, and emerged into the kitchen, where Diana was looking over the trays the catering company had brought, and breathed out in relief.
“Oh,” said Diana, as she looked up and saw her. “Did you run into Stephen in the hallway? I’m sorry.”
Julia shook her head. “Don’t be. We should be sorry. I’m here, grumbling about Edward - and this party? Is he annoyed about it?”
“Not any more than usual,” said Diana with an easy smile. “There’s no need to worry about that. And he won’t be here - I arranged for his uncle to ask him over. And since he’s one of the few people left who’ll still lend Stephen money from time to time, he won’t dare refuse the summons.”
Julia gave a nod, but she still felt upset by the exchange, and by her earlier thoughtlessness. Even if Edward hated her, which was thankfully hard to imagine, he’d never behave like that to any of her friends or guests in the house. Stephen would, it seemed.
Cinders, she thought again, his initial jab cutting home again. It came to close for comfort, and she might well be dressed up as Cinderella, which suddenly made her feel sick, as if perhaps everything was a joke she wasn’t in on and everybody else - Edward and Diana and Mr Harding, all of them - were all mocking her, setting her up like this. She knew it couldn’t be true, but she shivered nonetheless and felt her pleasurable anticipation for the party die away.
“You’re late,” said Julia, pouncing on Edward the moment he came through the front door. “You arrange for a party I didn’t ask for and then you can’t even be on time for it.”
He grinned at her from under a mask and hat. “I’m only five minutes late at the most. I’m sorry - I did mean to be early, but I was cornered by Fields, of all people, and then the traffic was -”
“Are you a highwayman?” asked Julia, more interested in his costume than his excuses. She stretched up, kissed him lightly, and removed both the mask and large hat as she did so. “There. Now I can see you again.”
Edward made a half-hearted grab at the hat, but Julia thrust it behind her back and stepped away from him. “Well, I was supposed to be a highwayman, I think, but I’m not much of one if you won’t give me that back.”
Julia took another step away from him and shook her head. “It’s my birthday and I want to see your face. Consider yourself reformed.”
“Anything for you,” he said, with another grin, amusement lighting his face, and he bent to kiss her hand.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Edward straightened himself, raising an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t think I was. What are you, anyway? Well, apart from more than usually charming, of course.”
Julia glanced down at herself, her smile fading away. “Diana said I was an eighteenth century lady, no one in particular - but it did come out of somebody’s collection of theatrical outfits and I think maybe I am Cinderella, and I’d rather not be.”
“Julia,” he said, but then they both had to turn as Colonel and Mrs North came in through the door, Diana hurrying over to greet them. Having paused to say hello and admire their outfits, Edward took Julia by the arm and drew her into the cloakroom.
He moved in to face her, putting a hand to her cheek. “Diana wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t have asked her to host this if I thought she was the sort of person who would.”
“I know,” said Julia, “but still - in some ways I am!”
Edward looked back at her, hesitating, as if he wasn’t sure what to say. He probably wasn’t.
Julia forced a smile, blinking back threatening tears, and caught hold of his wide sleeve. “You do see, don’t you? It doesn’t matter what’s happened since, when we married, I didn’t even know you at all, not really. I agreed for my own selfish reasons. And that’s why I don’t want anything else - not necklaces or parties.” She gave a short laugh. “I’m sorry. Not that they’re not nice, of course. But you have to know that I would be happy with the smallest token - with only us. I don’t want you to think otherwise. I can’t bear it if you do.” And he did, sometimes, she knew, even if he didn’t really believe it - he still wondered and worried.
“Yes, I think I’d already worked that one out,” said Edward. “You did shout at me for rather a while last week over it.” He put his fingers to her chin lightly. “Anyway, darling, you can’t possibly be Cinderella - or at least, something’s gone badly awry if you are, since you shouldn’t have wound up with a highwayman, not even an unconvincing one.”
Julia laughed, despite herself. “It might make for a more interesting story. I don’t suppose the highwayman had ever held up a coach that turned into a pumpkin before.”
He kissed her, pushing her back amongst the coats and scarves. Julia closed her eyes and didn’t point out that she should be out in the hall welcoming any remaining guests, slipping her arms around his neck and abandoning her fears.
“Oh, really,” said Diana, opening the cloakroom door. “If you must, you must, I suppose, but there’s no sense hiding in here when everyone’s arriving and I’m in and out every two minutes. There are quieter corners. I’ll direct you to one, if you like.”
Julia gave an embarrassed laugh and slipped her hand into Edward’s even as he tried to apologise. “You’ve only yourself to blame,” she told Diana. “You were the one who made him come as a highwayman. And now, look what happens!”
“I didn’t mean to surprise you, you know,” Edward said later, as they were dancing. “You enjoy most of these things we go to more than I do - I thought you’d like it, only first I had to ask Diana and wait for her to be sure she could -”
Julia smiled at him. “I know. And I am enjoying it. Especially now.”
“Really?” said Edward. “It’s rather awkward - cramped -” As if to prove his point, they had to move over to avoid bumping into Colonel and Mrs North. “And this is a waltz, so I think we’re being anachronistic.”
She bit her lip, struggling not to laugh in the middle of Diana’s living room. Instead she leant her head against him for a moment. “I’ve got a zip at the back, you know,” she murmured. “And you keep telling me you’re not a very convincing highwayman. I don’t think we should worry too much, darling.” If only, she thought, they could stay right here in this moment forever; they’d be safe that way. Julia closed her eyes.
“When you want to go home, just say,” he said, causing her to lift her head again and look at him in mild surprise. “It’s fine. I’ve got everything sorted with Diana, I promise.”
She nodded. “Thank you. Although I’ll need to get changed first -”
“No,” said Edward and when she raised her eyebrows at him, he added, “I told you, I arranged it all with Diana. I’ll bring it back round with mine in the morning.”
Julia had to try and hide laughter again. “But I could, after all. Unless you’d rather I didn’t?”
“There you have me,” said Edward and grinned.
Julia nodded, and tightened her hold on him. “Yes, I do, don’t I?”
On the short cab ride home, Julia had found herself caught somewhere between the unreal, charmed world of her birthday party and the encroaching dark reality around them. They were still wearing their costumes, which looked far more improbable now, and Julia was feeling a little misted at the edges with both champagne and happiness. When they climbed back out of the cab, Edward helping her out, both of them laughingly fighting with the wide skirt that hadn’t been designed for modern transport, there was a cold bite to the night air, and she shivered.
“Julia?” said Edward as he followed her in through the front door.
She turned to watch as he locked the door and thought again, rather soberly, about Edward and Stephen and how lucky she’d been, when she had been so unwise.
“What now?” Edward asked, a wary crease deepening between his brows. “You did enjoy the party, didn’t you?”
Julia nodded.
“But…?” he prompted, following her up the stairs. “If I ever do such a thing again, I will give you more warning, I promise.”
“Don’t be so silly,” Julia said. “I’ve told you a dozen times now that I enjoyed it very much. It’s only that I started thinking about what Stephen Foyle said again.”
Edward lightly kicked the bedroom door shut. “Well, don’t. If we’re going to go back over all of that, you know it was far more my fault than yours. I was the one who took advantage of your situation -”
“Why?” she said, sitting down on the bed. “I’m glad you did, but it was mad, you know. Not like you at all.”
He laughed, pulling off the elaborate neck cloth and shrugging off the coat before he sat down beside her. “Julia, I don’t know.”
“It’s my birthday,” she said, putting out a hand to keep him back until he made the effort. “Try.” She was still the same selfish person who’d said yes to a proposal from a virtual stranger, all because she wanted someone in her life, someone who would love her, admire her - and Edward had seemed as if he already might. And yet, if anyone else she’d known had asked her, she wouldn’t have said yes.
Edward shook his head. “I can’t.”
“It was love at first sight,” said Julia, determined to provoke him into trying to put it into words. “Or you only tell the worst news to girls you really like.”
He shook his head. “Julia. And it wasn’t - I would never put it like that, you know that.”
“How did you put it to yourself?” she asked. “Not the excuses - not how useful it was for your career, or about the organisation, or even my situation.”
Edward pulled her in nearer to him. “I can’t make it more romantic, or explain it. I just wanted you in my life more than I’d ever wanted anything before or since, that’s all.”
“How dreadful,” said Julia, pausing to kiss him mid-sentence. “But, you know, I think that is romantic. Much more so than all the political and pragmatic reasons you gave me back then.”
He gave a laugh. “Yes, I’m sorry. Really, let’s not think about any of that, not now -”
“No, no,” she said. “I’m glad you said all that at the time, honestly. I’d never have thought of such good excuses to agree otherwise. And if I hadn’t,” she added, meeting his gaze in a moment of complete seriousness, “I don’t know where I’d be, but it wouldn’t be anywhere as nice as this. Which is so far from what we deserve, for what we did - that’s why it scares me sometimes.” Or one of the reasons, she thought, not yet able to shake off the fear of losing him, not yet.
Edward nodded. “I know,” he said. “So it’s better not to think of it like that.”
“Yes,” said Julia more cheerfully, winding her arms about his neck. “Quite right; let’s not.”
***