Work Text:
Anne stared at the shop at the swinging sign with flaking paint that said, “Blackthorn’s Apothecary”. And The sign on the window of the door that said, “Closed-Opening soon!”
Fortunately, she didn’t need any medicine, only a moment or two to speak with her stepson.
Anne knew there was a chance he wouldn’t want to hear anything she had to say. Or take what she had to give, but she had promised that she would do this. So here she was, standing in front of the shop.
The Warden’s wife knocked on the door and then waited.
A moment passed, then another. Anne was wondering if she should just come back later when she heard the sound of the door unlocking. He opened the door to see a boy with her husband's eyes, staring up at her.
“Hello.” He said taking in her dark blue dress, and the jewelry that adorned her body and he tilted his head slightly. “Apologies My Lady, but we’re closed.”
“Oh, I know.” Anne said, “I’m not here for a remedy. I came to speak to you.”
Christopher looked up at her calculatingly before he nodded and opened the door wider. “Who are you?”
“Lady Anne Ashcombe, Baroness of Chillingham.” She said she’d contemplated skirting around the topic of her name but doing so wasn’t really conducive to her plans.
As predicted Christopher tensed “You’re the King’s Warden’s wife,” Christopher surmised.
Anne nodded, “I am.”
“Did he ask you to come?” Christopher said. “To talk to me? Because I already told him that I’m not leaving with the court. I want to stay,” he crossed his arms in front of his chest.
Richard had already told her, “No. He has no idea I’m here,” Anne said, despite her desire to beg Christopher to come with them. The desire to not have to experience another one of their children die… she had no authority; legal or otherwise over Christopher and could not force him to do anything he did not want to do.
Christopher hesitated, “Then… I suppose you’re here to yell at me. Mock me about being the abandoned son.”
Anne refused to rise to the bait. His words did hurt but growing up at Court had taught her a thing or two about thick skins. She snorted. “Hardly. I’m not the wicked stepmother in fairy stories. My issues with my husband’s infidelity are between my husband, me, and The Lord Almighty. I have 0 plans of blaming you or taking my anger out on you, for what my husband did.”
Christopher snorted, “You just wish I was never born.”
Anne shook her head, “No,” Anne said, “I wish you were mine,”. Christopher paused and stared at her wide-eyed, frozen in surprise while he struggled for something to say.
Anne shook her head, “I did not come to argue,” Anne said, she reached into her belt and pulled out a letter. It was years old; The paper had turned yellow with age. “I came to deliver this.”
Christopher eyed the letter. “Did Lord Ashcombe write that?”
“No,” Anne said, “In fact, he has no idea what’s written inside it.”
“Then who…” Christopher asked confused. “You?”
“I did not write it either,” Anne said. “My elder son did before he died.”
Christopher looked as though he didn’t know how to respond to that. “I’m sorry for your loss,” He asked. “Did Lord Ashcombe tell him as well?”
Anne smiled sadly. “He wouldn’t have. But when it became apparent that Andrew wasn’t going to survive… my husband didn’t want him to die with secrets between them.”
“So, what’s the letter then?”
“Well… when Andrew realized that he was likely going to die before he got a chance to meet you… he didn’t want to die without leaving some kind of last communication for you.” Anne said.
Christopher didn’t reach out to take the letter, he just stared at her confused. “Why… would a dying Lord care about a first and last correspondence to a commoner he barely knows?”
Anne paused and laid the letter down on the counter before speaking again. “Because… because you’re his brother.”
Christopher looked around his shop, looking for all the world like he was trying to figure out the proper way to say what he wanted.
“I… I don’t feel like the Ashcombe’s are family.” He finally said.
“That’s fair,” Anne said doing her best to not show how much that hurt. It wasn’t about her, “You need time. We understand.”
“Do…” Christopher paused, “Does anyone else in the Ashcombe family know?”
Anne shook her head. “Andrew-Charles was a special case. No one else knows. Not yet. Not until your ready.”
Christopher took a deep breath and eyed the letter, then back at Anne. “I don’t know if…”
Anne smiled sadly, “It’s yours, what you do with it is up to you. Whether you read it or put it away or set it on fire…” Anne’s eyes flicked with sadness, at thought of Christopher burning one of the last things her eldest son ever wrote. “That’s your choice. I just ask that you be certain of it before you make your choice.”
Christopher stared at the letter, and then back at Anne. He seemed to be taking his time to think and gather his thoughts. “I won’t… burn it or throw it away.” Christopher finally said. “But I don’t think I’m ready to read it. Not yet.”
Anne nodded, then she stood sensing her welcome had been spent. If it ever was there in the first place. “I hope to see you again one day.” Anne said, “But if this is the only time, we meet… I hope it wasn’t horrible for you.”
Christopher didn’t respond to her attempt at humour. “Thank you…” He said after a moment of silence. “For the letter.”
Anne had the feeling he was saying that to be polite to a Lady rather than any genuine feelings. “It was no bother.” She said. “You are always welcome at Chillingham if you ever wish to pay us a visit.”
Christopher’s nodded once.
Anne nodded once, “Goodbye Christopher Rowe.” She said.
“Goodbye Lady Ashcombe,” Christopher said back.
“Would you have kept me?” Christopher asked before she could open the door, “Whether or not I was yours?”
Anne turned her head slightly, “I’d have fought like hell to keep you,” She said softly.
Christopher didn’t say anything after that, Anne nodded, “I wish I could change your mind.” Anne said, “But if you decide not to come, I do hope and pray from the bottom of my heart that you survive this.”
“Thank you,” Christopher said.
Sensing there was no more to say, Anne nodded and turned toward the door and closed it behind her as she walked back out into the London streets.
All around her people were packing up and gearing up to get as far away from London as possible. She turned back to the house and sent a silent prayer that Christopher be protected no matter what choice he made before she mounted her horse and rode back to the palace.