dukehumphrey:

iamthefirechild:

dukehumphrey:

iamthefirechild:

“Don’t stop, my lord, don’t stop,” she whispered back, trading him kiss for kiss. “Don’t stop, don’t leave me so soon. I would I could go with you, but you wish we remain secret and I must abide by your wishes.”

“Oh but you see love, if I take you, everyone will take you for a mistress of low morals that I amuse myself with…” he whispered, covered in her kisses. “I allow naught like it to happen… but then, ‘tis so hard to think I leave you, my love…”

He suddenly departed from her, stepping back, holding her hands. “Hark now sweetling, we must part…” he smiled at her, with love and adoration in his eyes. “I need to go, and when I am back I assure you that you will know of it…” and with that he pulled her close and held her, “I ask you to think of what you wish from me for your long hours of waiting and you shall have it upon return.” With that he offered his arm to lead back to the hall. “We must part, before they notice, and… I shall say that necklace becomes you my love.” A slight kiss on the back of her hand, and he was gone.

She missed him. She hadn’t expected that. They had met but thrice, yet even setting aside his sincere declarations of love, the thrill of finding someone of her own mind on poetry would incline her heart to him. She took his gift off before leaving the fete, holding it up to the torchlight. So costly a gift. She’d nothing like it to offer in return.

Save her words, she supposed. So Summer wrote him a letter.

Dear my lord Humphrey, she wrote, I would I could say the hours until your return pass by swiftly for my eagerness, yet this is not so. Unaccountably I miss you. Without even your presence within her, London seems drab and empty. Instead, I have sought out Petrarch, as you recommended, and I find him enjoyable reading, yet I would discuss his writings with you to further my understanding.

It is in my heart also to set your mind at ease regarding certain things. You see, I am my father’s favourite, saving only my brother Edward his heir, and thus I have some leave to do as I like. My sister, born at the same lying-in as I, is already married, and well, too; and my father is not so ambitious as some lords. He has given me oath I may not marry against my will, but may have the choice and the freedom to court and be courted.

I fear I cannot make myself as clear as I would like, for this letter may be picked up by those who mean you mischief. Suffice it to say, my lord, I would not have secrecy with you, but see you openly and with a glad heart. My reputation is of no moment, though I thank you greatly for your care of it; indeed I do think my learning has already sullied me in some eyes.

I await your return with impatience, and wish only to be sheltered by your arms again.

with love, Summer Rainault

It took a little connivance, but she had it smuggled into his rooms, sealed with red wax and the impress of a flame, to await him.

It was the fifth morning after the feast. The squire rode in a haste through the pouring rain, waking all those who missed the first sunlight to rise from their beds. He knocked on the door, and when the servant opened, he held out the package to him, “Tis for the lady Summer, and her only… from the Duke of Gloucester.” he said. “My master awaits word if the lady is pleased with it.”

The package contained a couple things. First of all it was packed in fine velvet in the colour of midnight blue, and on that an address, of a certain Master Heap, the tailor, the comment saying, “Send for Master Heap and he shall know the rest.” The master indeed already received the message about a certain fine vest for a lady that would keep her warm during hunt.

Then there were two books, Boccaccio’s ‘De Casibus Virorum Illustrium’ (one of Humphrey’s favorites), beautifully detailed a codex. The smaller one, the inevitable Petrarch’s ‘Il Canzoniere’ that he previously quoted from.

In that, there was a note, handwritten, that said, “My Most Beloved, I shall be holding you in my arms soon and until then I hope these gifts will help you pass the time. Prithee think what you shall ask for the wait, and it shall be yours as promised, for the waiting. My heart is with you, H.”

With trembling hands, Summer hastily penned a note in reply.

Dearest of loves, you are far too kind to me. I shall treasure these, though they do not substitute for your presence. Please hurry back, for the hours grow long and my heart yearns for you. ~S.

She thrust it at the squire, bidding the boy put it in Humphrey’s hand and no other. “Tell your lord my delight is bounded only by his absence.” She yearned to quiz him on how Humphrey looked, but sternly forbade herself that indulgence, a little frightened by the sudden strength of her own feelings. Seduced by books of poetry!

A long conversation over breakfast with her father followed, and at the last he said, patting her hand, “‘Tis strange of me, I know, but I would have you happy above all else, daughter. Go with caution, but not fear; I’ll stand with you. If I know aught ill of Gloucester, ‘tis that he plays with maidens’ hearts, yet he’s wise enough to woo you with books.”

dukehumphrey:

iamthefirechild:

Summer watched Humphrey, laughing to herself. He circled round her like a hunter, but refused to move in for the kill. Was he hoping to make her jealous by giving attentions to other ladies? There was time and enough time for jealousy later, when she tasted the direction of his intent. Would once be all he sought, or would he try for a longer association?

She refused all invitations to dance, preferring to recite and discuss the Commedia with a like-minded lady-in-waiting of the Queen’s. Humphrey was waiting for some cue, she could tell. If it was some act of hers, he’d be waiting long, for she was minded to make him seek her out. Still, when their gazes crossed, Summer allowed him a welcoming smile.

The King departed and Humphrey sat at the high table for a while, observing the merry lot. They no longer paid respect to high lords – a sign he hoped to see before he approaches Summer. He wished it to be almost unrecognised by the drunk lords and ladies of the court. He had a reputation and was well aware of it, he wished to keep the lady out of it.

He took his chalice, and quickly checked his packet, the little leather pouch that his squire brought to him was still there. He slowly made way, bowing to ladies, stopping whenever someone said a “God Bless thee Duke Humphrey,” or a “Good eventide, my lord”, a drunken “Tis the most splendid of parties, Lord Humphrey” – he took time for all of them, making sure that no one would complain how the Duke turned away from the guests of the crown.

Finally, he arrived where she sat, the lady-in-waiting talking to her blushed immediately as he bowed his head to her. “Ladies…” he said cheerfully, “I keep wondering why the two of you would be left sitting, tis surely the waste of the most comely summer flowers by my fellow lords not taking you to dance…”

“Surely they have tried, your grace, yet none have been so appealing as to draw me away from my love of the lyric word. And you forget, distracted by your brothers no doubt, I am not so well-known here as you,” Summer laughed up at him. “What will you of us? I do not think you can dance with the both of us, for I will not share, nor Isobel either.” The two women exchanged a smiling glance, then turned bright eyes on the Duke.

dukehumphrey:

iamthefirechild:

It never failed to amuse her, how easily a man’s heart could be manipulated with faint promises. Women were more steadfast, Summer thought, and then laughed at herself. Well, perhaps she would give him what he wanted, and then they could settle down and become good friends over the poets.

In the meantime, she set herself not to fret. The challenge had clearly been offered and accepted, and the Duke would come in his own sweet time. She knew he’d not left the city, between her father’s near daily complaints of council and the preparations for Midsummer’s Eve. That would be an auspicious day for the Duke to make his move, indeed, and it would be worth her while to catch his eye amongst the ladies that would be at court that night.

Summer busied her hands with dressmaking, and her mind with the poetry they both loved — though she determined to speak in her own words at their next encounter, rather than let Dante or Petrarch speak for her. Soft green, like new sage leaves, and trimmed with undyed thread; she was not often much for dresses but this one gladdened her heart.

The rush of happiness when she came into the hall and saw him at the high table brought a bright smile to her lips, and anticipation made her eyes sparkle when Midsummer’s Eve finally arrived.

Humphrey sat at the table, his squire behind him. He was amusing himself watching the crowds filling the hall, ‘Tis but a market of maidens,” he said laughing to Thomas who in return gave him a frown as he took his seat. “Brother, sometimes I wonder if your humor was lost with your innocence when you married our dear aunt, or if you ever had humor at all.” He remarked, as John took his other side. He and Thomas could not be more different, if anything they shared it was the hate for Burgundy but naught more and even that didn’t bring them an inch closer.

She wore a light green dress, his first thought as he caught her sight being, how did she know? He himself dressed in grass green velvets, grey and silver. He watched her, nodding with a slight smile as appropriate when their eyes met. He knew in an instant what was missing, and she could see him whispering something into his squire’s ear who then hurried away.

Soon His Majesty, The King – was announced and Henry arrived. With none else than Thomas between them, Humphrey knew he would have but little chance of interaction with Harry, missing his eldest brother’s light humour and chatting throughout the meals. The food itself left no room for complaints though, and the wine was sweet Gaxon and Portugese, fruitful summerwine that goes to the head so quickly. It reminded Humphrey of the lady he set his mind on, and who was deeply engaged in conversation with a lady-in-waiting of the Queen Joan, that Humphrey knew (well, he knew her quite closely but that was rather long ago.)

When the dancing started, Humphrey didn’t go to her at first. He danced with Philippa of York, and several other aunts including even Thomas’ wife Joan (who was widow of uncle John Beaufort and well, everyone at court knew how she graced Thomas’ bed before the wedding night,) and some ladies-in-waiting, collected two offers ‘in case your highness needs company later’, and finally took the chance to get closer to Harry, enjoying his brother’s company for a while. As the party became louder, men became drunker and ladies more loose of their manners, Humphrey kept waiting for when the time would be right.

Summer watched Humphrey, laughing to herself. He circled round her like a hunter, but refused to move in for the kill. Was he hoping to make her jealous by giving attentions to other ladies? There was time and enough time for jealousy later, when she tasted the direction of his intent. Would once be all he sought, or would he try for a longer association?

She refused all invitations to dance, preferring to recite and discuss the Commedia with a like-minded lady-in-waiting of the Queen’s. Humphrey was waiting for some cue, she could tell. If it was some act of hers, he’d be waiting long, for she was minded to make him seek her out. Still, when their gazes crossed, Summer allowed him a welcoming smile.

dukehumphrey:

iamthefirechild:

dukehumphrey:

iamthefirechild:

dukehumphrey:

iamthefirechild:

“Must you depart so soon?” Summer blurted. She blushed, ducking her head, and tried to cover her confusion with another bit of Dante. “‘In that book which is My memory… On the first page That is the chapter when I first met you Appear the words… Here begins a new life.’” Delicately she slipped her hand from his. “Ah, but I am remiss; I have no right claim on your time. Yours is the business of governance.” She smiled up at him, glad to at last have found someone who shared the joys of reading and poetry with her.

“A word to my father will always find me, your grace. I’ll depart with this: ‘Bocca baciata non perde ventura, anzi rinnuova come fa la luna,’ and perhaps you can say it to me in English if we meet again,” she teased, then caught up her skirts for a quick curtsey.

Humphrey had to laugh at the suggestion. Gazing around, they were still alone in the garden. He held her hand close to his chest that pulled her closer, and looked in her eyes. “My Lady shall be mocking me…” he said, “for the message I shall send your father is but the worst messenger, he would sooner ask me to meet him in a single combat for your honor if indeed he is as good a father as he is a speaker. For my messages, they shall not be known by fathers.”

With that, he placed a kiss on her fingers. “So if the mouth that has been kissed loses not its favour, but renews it with the cycle of the moon…” he looked at her, “Tell me, sweet Summer, what happens to mouths that have not been kissed? For it seems to me that you shall let me depart without a kiss on mine, and I know not what would happen to my favour then? A lady so learned as you, shall not be so cruel, or am I wrong?”

“My lord! Certain I was you said you did not speak Italian well! I shall have to set you a harder puzzle, then, methinks.” Summer laughed with him, though a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “What will you have in trade for my kisses, my lord? I shall sell them dearly, you must know, as I have been taught. Or perhaps,” she murmured, gazing at him challengingly, “you are a thief, and steal them away. Art a thief, my lord? Thou hast captured mine hand very neatly.”

“Oh my lady is but merciless!” Humphrey said now, releasing her hand in a dramatic move. “‘One keeps me jailed who neither locks nor opens, nor keeps me for her own, nor frees the noose, Love does not kill, nor does he loose my chains, He wants me lifeless but won’t loosen me…’”

“My lady I cannot be a thief for what pleasure could be brought by such crime, and if my lady doesn’t give willingly, I must doubt my lady would have the pleasure in the kiss if taken by me. If my heart is not enough an offer, what else can a man offer? What is more than the heart of a man who gives it willingly?”

“So I shall depart from you with a longing heart, ‘thrive in pain and laugh with all my tears, I dislike death as much as I do life, Because of you, lady, I am this way.’”

Summer pressed her freed hand to his heart, smiling. “Is’t with thy heart thou wilt buy mine? ‘Tis a fair trade then my lord, for ‘Love placed me as a target for his arrow, like snow in sunlight, or wax in the fire, like a cloud in the wind … your sweet spirit from which I’ve no defence’ pierceth me.” Stretching as tall as she might, Summer brushed her mouth to Humphrey’s, then darted away.

Humphrey laughed in silence watching as she walked away from him. He felt the mixture of triumph and the oh-so-familiar feeling of demand, when his mind is set half-consciously on the prize and he knew he will not settle until he claims it. A beauty with brains and passion for literature was exactly the combination he preferred.

He didn’t see Summer for a good week or so, busying himself in the affairs of the council. Her father was present on some of these meetings, yet Humphrey ensured that even if she would be around they don’t run into each other. Of course he longed for her, he found it harder each day to fall asleep alone in his bed, the sheets cold around him. He kept watching the ceiling with his only relief knowing that she is likely to be doing exactly the same. He wanted her to want him more, and was determined on his path. During the days it was much easier, as he could not spare much of his time to think of her, her own father and the rest made sure of that.

On Midsummer’s eve Harry, as always, threw a merry feast on the most grandiose scale. Humphrey knew that there would be no man – or maid – in London who wouldn’t wish to be present in the great hall of Westminster, and made his own preparations with extra care. He was seated at the high table, on the right side of his brother the King, between brothers John and Thomas, and due to the etiquette there was no chance to talk to her before the feast itself turned into a more unscripted party of drinks and dancing, he knew it. All the better, he thought, and already amused himself of how he will watch the lady and if he could anticipate another kiss, a real one – or maybe even more. It promised to be a splendid, and joyful night indeed.

It never failed to amuse her, how easily a man’s heart could be manipulated with faint promises. Women were more steadfast, Summer thought, and then laughed at herself. Well, perhaps she would give him what he wanted, and then they could settle down and become good friends over the poets.

In the meantime, she set herself not to fret. The challenge had clearly been offered and accepted, and the Duke would come in his own sweet time. She knew he’d not left the city, between her father’s near daily complaints of council and the preparations for Midsummer’s Eve. That would be an auspicious day for the Duke to make his move, indeed, and it would be worth her while to catch his eye amongst the ladies that would be at court that night.

Summer busied her hands with dressmaking, and her mind with the poetry they both loved — though she determined to speak in her own words at their next encounter, rather than let Dante or Petrarch speak for her. Soft green, like new sage leaves, and trimmed with undyed thread; she was not often much for dresses but this one gladdened her heart.

The rush of happiness when she came into the hall and saw him at the high table brought a bright smile to her lips, and anticipation made her eyes sparkle when Midsummer’s Eve finally arrived.