Work Text:
I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.
- American Pie, Don McLean
. . .
A hush had settled on London City - almost a mourning.
Princess Mary could feel the grief felt by nearly every citizen, as she rode in her carriage through the streets. Her destination was one that she had grown fond of visiting in the past couple of years, since the death of her parents.
It was a respectably sized house, with a white fence wrapped around the yard, a side house dedicated to growing orchids, and an apple tree in the front yard.
Her heart ached with sadness, as she thought of the reason for her visit.
She wouldn’t cry though.
She couldn’t.
She knew it would only make things harder for both herself and Brimsley.
Brimsley - the Queen's man who always had a smile and something sweet for her.
George had warned her against letting Brimsley know that she knew the truth of his condition - she would have to be discreet.
“Brimsley is ill,” Georgie explained carefully. “Gravely so.”
Mary stared at her brother in stunned silence. “Why didn’t he tell me,” she finally whispered.
“He does not want you to know. And as you care for him, you must say nothing.”
“Her Royal Highness, Princess Mary,” Chester announced.
She brushed past him into the sitting room, where Brimsley was sitting reclined in a chair near the fireplace. “I’m glad to have caught you,” she said brightly. “Before I return to Windsor.”
“Princess.” Brimsley got to his feet and bowed his head to her. “I was not expecting a visit from you."
“Well as you have stopped living at the palace, I thought it best if I came to you. I know how dreadful it is to travel these days. The streets are so crowded.” She held her hand out to him.
“Yes.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I am grateful for your company.”
Up close, she was able to see the full extent of the illness George had warned her about - the paleness of his skin, the dark circles beneath his eyes, and even the dullness of his gaze.
“Please, sit.”
He all but fell back into his chair.
“I have brought you something.” She turned to Leonard, who stepped forward and handed her the music box.
Brimsley leaned forward slightly, watching her with slight intrigue. “Ma’am?”
She set the music box on the table next to his chair and removed the cover, before kneeling down at Brimsley’s feet for a better angle of control. “You just wind it up here,” she explained, grasping the knob at the front and turning it, prompting the music to float out from within. “And you can have music whenever you want,” she added, once the rotating cylinder had come to a stop. “My mother told me that you were quite fond of this song - that it was one that was performed at a ball years ago.”
“Yes,” Brimsley mused softly, his gaze fixated on the small figurines that had turned at the top with the music. “It was performed at the ball held after the birth of your brother George. The first one your parents hosted at the palace.”
“I see.” She smiled up at him. “I am glad to have chosen it then, given the amount of sentiment that comes with it.”
“It is most ingenious, ma’am.” He cleared his throat and slowly turned his gaze to her. “May I ask what I have done to deserve such a magnificent gift?”
“I thought you might like to listen to it sometimes,” she replied, unable to think of a better reason to give.
“Hmm.” It was clear that he didn’t believe her, but he wasn’t going to outright say anything.
“I’ll be returning to Windsor soon, which means I won’t be able to visit as much. So, I wanted you to have something to remind you...” Emotion built within her, nearly overtaking her, but she swallowed it down and continued forward. “-of all the fun we’ll have when I return next Spring.”
He met her gaze, and her emotion squeezed her heart at the redness and raw emotion that had filled his eyes.
They both knew that they were pretending for the sake of the other.
There would be no reunion in the Spring.
He smiled slightly. “That is most thoughtful.” He returned his gaze to the box. “It is a beautiful thing.”
Mary couldn’t handle it anymore. She had reached the limit her heart could take.
The emotion was too much, and if she lingered any longer then she was sure to dissolve into a mess of tears.
She got to her feet and crossed her hands in front of herself, pressing her nails into her palms to help her maintain control of herself.
Brimsley pushed himself up as well, swaying slightly before managing to stabilize himself.
“These are such difficult times,” she said. “I wish you were not so far away. I miss having you nearby. You were always so kind and full of advice. My mother may not have always listened to what you had to say, but I did. You were my first friend, and I miss you.”
“Oh, my dear, you do not need me as much as you think you do. After all, you are mother’s daughter and you carry her strength.”
She met his gaze and did her best to maintain her smile, despite the fact that her heart was shattering within her chest. “You will write to me?” She hated how high and unnatural her voice sounded.
Brimsley clicked his tongue and nodded. “Yes.” He looked down for a moment and cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.”
“When I return from Windsor, we must go riding in the park, as we used to - when my mother allowed it.”
He smiled fondly at her. “Such talks we used to have. I learned so much from you, you know?”
She hadn’t been expecting to hear that. “You learned from me?”
“More than you can imagine.”
Mary wanted to cry.
How was she supposed to leave, knowing that she would never see him again? He had had such an impact on her life, and she couldn't bare the thought of never seeing him again.
They held each other gaze for a moment, before Brimsley suddenly inhaled shakily, reminding Mary harshly of the truth.
“Goodbye, Brimsely.” She reached out for his hands and gave them a gentle squeeze.
He returned the squeeze. "Goodbye, my dear."
She turned away from him, and hesitated for a brief moment, before walking away from the last direct connection the country had to her parent’s history and youth.
. . .
Brimsley was tired - more tired than he ever imagined he could be.
The room was warm, and his heart was content as he listened to the familiar tune of the music box.
He was ready.
More people were waiting for him on the other side, than were present on the side of the living. His parents, his siblings, his friends, Queen Charlotte, and above all, Reynolds.
He was ready to see his beloved again, all he had to do was give in.
His gaze settled on the small figurines that revolved at the top of the box, and slowly his mind began to fill with the memories of dancing to the very song that the box played.
The room faded, taking with it the rest of the world beyond the walls of his home.
It wouldn’t be long until he was dancing with Reynolds again.
The cylinder within the box slowly came to a stop and with it the beat of the music and the beat of Brimsley's heart.
"Hello, love. I've been waiting for you..."
Brimsley smiled.