@dukehumphrey

dukehumphrey:

iamthefirechild:

“Humphrey!” Just as always before, his name spilled from her lips before she thought. He stood so still, so unchanged, Summer was sure she was seeing a ghost. Was he not gone, fighting battles in the Low Countries, petitioning the Pope on his wife’s behalf — anywhere but London?

Fate had driven them apart, as of course they had both known it would. She had put away the necklace he had given her, the books and clothes, along with her girlish belief in the power of love. Buried under the wreckage her life had become was her hope that a woman could change her own world.

But obviously this was her mind, distraught, playing tricks on her. The Duke of Gloucester could not be here in the Westminster gardens. Summer burst into the tears she had been trying to hold back, and dropped miserably onto a bench.

Humphrey turned towards the voice seconds after he heard his name, his mind still preoccupied. Next to the bridge, on the bench sat a woman and at first Humphrey didn’t even recognise her… she looked familiar, he felt that tingling inside that you get when you see your old flame and he knew he should remember. He thought it must be one of the many maids, maybe one of the lady-in-waiting’s of his Father’s Queen, from when he was young… he didn’t consider himself young anymore, in any way… that was what, fifteen years ago? The girl seemed too young for that.

He looked again and recognised this time, could see a bit of hair under the widow’s veil and he knew it. No one else had that fiery hair. He slowly walked to the bench, and dropped himself next to the woman, weeping into her hands. “I see I am not alone in being unfairly treated by fate. Summer.”

When he spoke, Summer jerked her hands away from her face to stare at him. Spirits didn’t speak! And surely if her mind were tormenting her with visions of Humphrey, he would not also be unhappy. She lifted a hand and touched his cheek. “Are you real?” she whispered. “Surely not. You are in the Low Countries, happy and strong.”

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