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The midday sun shone brightly through the trees, casting dappled rays down upon Maria and Robin as they picnicked in the forest. Although, one might argue that simply lying on a blanket and staring upwards was hardly a picnic at all.
Maria was stretched out with her eyes closed, enjoying the cool breeze that swept over her face and kept her from growing too hot in the warmth of a spring day. Her head rested easily on Robin's shoulder as he lay sprawled next to her, holding her hand where it lay between them on the blanket.
Maria was comfortable and content, pleasantly full after the lovely picnic meal that Marmaduke had made for them, and fancied herself almost asleep when, after a very long time of only the birds making any noise, Robin spoke.
"Maria," he said, softly enough that it didn't startle her.
"Mm?" She inquired, not opening her eyes.
"I was just thinking...."
If she'd been any farther from sleep, she would have grinned impishly and teased him about there being a first time for everything.
"...Well, I was wondering..." He paused, and Maria felt him take a great deep breath.
"Wondering what, Robin?" She asked, a sleepy smile playing on her lips.
"Well, what if I asked you to marry me?"
Maria's eyes popped open. Nothing else would have served as well to catapult her into wakefulness. Not even a pail of ice cold water could have sent her bolting upright any quicker.
"What?" She burst out in surprise, twisting so that she could see Robin's face, half expecting to find him smirking at her in a particularly irritating fashion.
But he was not smirking. In fact, his face bore an expression of such seriousness that her heart skipped and a rush of electricity shocked through her.
"Robin...." She hardly knew what to do with herself and without really knowing it she released his hand to rest both of her palms against her chest in an attempt to calm her pounding heart.
He lifted a hand and ever-so-gently brushed a strand of her coppery hair out of her face. "What if I asked you to marry me?" He said again, his hand lingering on her cheek. "What would you say?"
A tumult to rival the churning of the sea stirred within Maria's chest.
"W-Well, are you asking me?" She managed to ask.
He let his hand drop and shrugged. "I'd like to know what you'd say first," he replied, some of his usual teasing tone returning.
"Robin," Maria scolded, clicking her tongue in gentle disapproval, "you can't very well have the answer before the question."
He propped himself up on his elbows, frowning. "And why not?" He sounded impatient, perhaps a bit petulant.
It would have been a very handy thing if Maria had realized just how nervous Robin was, and if Robin had realized he had no reason to be nervous, as the answer he would receive should be plain, after all the years they'd known each other.
But Maria wanted to be asked properly, and she knew just how she could get him to ask properly. Leaning back, she forced between them the amount of space that they usually only had when in the presence of others. He followed after her, and she turned so that her back was to him, and straightened her skirts.
He soon closed the space, nearly pressing into her side when he asked again, "Why not?"
"Well," she said, her chin high and a certain haughtiness to her tone that she always injected to prove a point, "there's a certain way to do these things. A proper way." She could hardly withhold a triumphant smile. She knew Robin hated proper ways.
As expected, he scoffed.
"Have you no sense of propriety, Robin?" She pushed, blinking demurely.
"Hang propriety!" He exclaimed, pushing to his feet. He began to stomp around, as any passionate suitor might, a flush having overtaken his cheeks as he ran a hand through his unruly hair.
Maria rose to her feet also, smoothing out her dress and waiting until he stopped pacing and looked at her. His dark eyes blazed.
"Who cares about proper, Maria?" He said, his voice low and perhaps a bit desperate. He neared her, taking up her hands and meeting her eyes with a ferocious sort of determination. "Are you going to marry me or not?"
Maria smiled, feeling fit to burst. "Of course I will," she said breathlessly.
Robin blinked. "Really?" He asked, as if he didn't believe her.
"Yes," she said, nodding.
"Oh." Robin nodded, too, and sucked in a breath so violently that one would have thought he hadn't breathed in an age. "Oh thank the stars."
He sagged with apparent relief, and practically fell into Maria's arms.
"Oh, dear Robin!" She cried, laughing as she embraced him. "You were nervous!"
"Of course I was nervous," he said begrudgingly.
"Really Robin," she said softly, running a hand through his hair, "you should've known by now that you're the only person I could ever marry. All you had to do was ask." She felt him nod beneath her hand, and smiled.
After a moment, he pulled away, flushed and said, "I...I have something for you."
Maria watched him reach into his pocket and draw out a small ring. "It was my mother's," he said quietly, not quite looking at her. "And now it's yours."
"Oh Robin!" She exclaimed, "it's beautiful!" She could only just see the beautiful ring through the tears burning in her eyes. It was old, yes, but none the worse for it. The silver band shone like new in the sun, the emerald set within it gleaming like a winking eye. As he slipped it onto her finger, she nearly laughed and sobbed at once. It fit perfectly, as if it were made for her.
She flung her arms around his neck, kissing him with all her might. He lifted her off the ground in his own strong arms, spinning them around in a glorious shower of sunlight and laughter, the birds seeming to sing ever louder in celebration.
She couldn't wait to tell everyone. She couldn't wait to marry Robin. For her uncle to walk her up the aisle and—
Oh.
Her uncle.
She felt herself fall back to the earth with a jarring sensation. Robin must have felt it, too, because he set her down, his brows furrowing in confusion.
Her gaze settled upon the pretty little ring shining on her finger and she sighed. "But, Robin..."
He tensed. "But what?"
"But I can't wear this until I've talked to Uncle about it."
For all his virtues, Sir Benjamin Merryweather could be a bit...overly protective. And Maria knew that her engagement wasn't something she could just spring on him without warning.
"I'll talk to him," Robin said.
"Oh, well it might be better if I—"
"No, Maria." Robin interrupted, shaking his head. "I'll talk to him. It'll never be right if I don't talk to him about it."
Maria pondered on it. She could just imagine her uncle, upon hearing the news, demanding to know why Robin hadn't been man enough to come talk to him himself. She was, albeit reluctantly, inclined to agree.
++
A knock sounded on the door to Benjamin's study. With a great suffering sigh, he laid aside the papers he'd been examining and cleared his throat. It wasn't Loveday, whoever was at the door, because she never knocked.
"Come in," he bade, even if he didn't want to.
The door swung open, revealing Robin de Noir, who stepped very slowly into the room, his eyes fixed firmly ahead instead of doing their usual careless flicker around his surroundings.
"Sir Benjamin," said the young man, in a voice far quieter than his usual. Benjamin squinted at him.
Robin froze, then reached up and tore his hat off his head, leaving his curled hair in a terrible frenzy, even as he tried to smooth it down with his other hand. Benjamin just barely managed not to roll his eyes.
"Yes, what is it, Robin?" He'd forced himself long ago to refer to the incorrigible youth who insisted upon gluing himself to Maria's side by name, even if he would much rather have said you, or boy, or de Noir.
"Sir, I...I..." Robin still stared at him, but it certainly wasn't because he wanted to. In fact, he looked rather grayish in his face, his eyes unnaturally wide. His fingers tapped nervously on the brim of his hat as he held it.
"Speak up, lad," Benjamin ordered, having no time at all for this...stammering, or whatever it was.
"I wish to...or I would very much like to..." Robin swallowed very hard then, his eyes at last drifting somewhere besides Benjamin.
Benjamin sighed again. "You would like to what, Robin?"
Robin muttered something. It was hardly louder than a breath, whatever it was, and really the only reason Benjamin was certain he'd heard it was because he'd seen Robin's lips move.
"Speak up," Benjamin commanded a second time. Hell's teeth, he never in a thousand years would have imagined ordering Robin de Noir to speak more. What was the world coming to?
Robin looked at him again, a flush now overtaking his cheeks with alarming speed and hue. His eyes turned to daggers as they focused on Benjamin again, piercing and sharp.
With jaw set, Robin uttered these next words: "I would like your blessing, sir, to marry your niece, Maria—"
Unfortunately, his speech of new-found courage was cut abruptly short.
Benjamin rose from his chair like a hurricane, howling, "I know very well who my niece is, Robin de Noir!" His coat whirled around him as he stormed from behind his desk, that powerful sort of fatherly protectiveness giving him inhuman speed as he crossed the room. "And you will do no such thing—I will give no such thing! She is far too young to be thinking of marriage!"
Robin's face blanched, whiter than fresh winter snow, and twice as harsh. "She's old enough to know what she wants," he said in a low tone.
Benjamin scoffed, even as a voice that sounded very much like Loveday whispered in his mind that nineteen—and twenty-one, in Robin's case—was a very respectable age for getting married, especially if the two marrying each other were already well acquainted.
Tosh and nonsense, Benjamin thought.
"What can you give Maria?" Benjamin demanded, hardly noticing the spark of rage that lighted in the young de Noir's eyes at such a question.
"A home," Robin seethed, his knuckles white around the brim of his hat, "love, and respect." His teeth flashed in a very forced smile, if such an expression could even be equated to the sunny aspect of a smile. "And if it's money you're worried about, I'm to inherit my father's wealth."
Benjamin glared at Robin. Robin glared at Benjamin.
"Don't be ridiculous," Benjamin said at last, "Maria is rich enough that whatever ill-gotten fortune you de Noir's have amassed is of no consequence."
It would have been a very handy thing, indeed, if someone had happened by to remind Sir Benjamin that the feud was long over and buried, and that if he wasn't careful his words might become the shovel to dig it up all over again.
"I see now that coming here was a mistake," Robin uttered through gritted teeth.
"At least you have some sense," Benjamin said, grabbing the open door beside Robin and motioning for the young man to leave.
Robin, without another word and a very harsh glare that, perhaps, may have sent someone less stubborn than Benjamin groveling, crammed his hat on his head and stomped away.
Benjamin slammed the door behind him with a huff, a very loud huff, and then began to pace.
Hell's teeth. Robin de Noir, come to his study with the nerve to ask for Maria's hand? What did he think was going to happen? That drinks would be poured and a toast made to celebrate such an insupportable thing?!
Benjamin certainly didn't think so, but he did think a drink sounded like a good idea.
He'd just downed a good, burning swallow when the study door opened and Loveday glided in on bare feet and a flowing pale blue dress. Her hair was in a terrible frenzy, much like her brother's, but much less ridiculous. Or so Benjamin thought.
"Darling," she said, approaching him with one of those placid smiles that she always wore with the intent of smoothing any ruffled feathers, "I heard shouting."
"Your brother—!" Was all Benjamin managed to huff out before he buried his nose in his drink again.
"Oh, I see," said Loveday softly, and it seemed she really did see, because she gently took the now-empty glass out of Benjamin's hand and led him to one of the wingback chairs by the fireplace.
He sat, only because she practically pushed him into it.
"My darling," she soothed, "you cannot let your belief that no one is good enough for Maria get in the way of her living her life."
He grunted in a way very unbecoming of a gentleman, or at least that's what Miss Heliotrope would have thought.
"Besides," said Loveday, easing onto his lap, resting an arm over his shoulders, her fingers ghosting through the hair at the nape of his neck, "do you really think, that if Maria has her mind set on marrying Robin, she'll take your no for an answer?"
Benjamin considered this, the weight of such a question sinking into the crease between his eyebrows. No, Maria wouldn't listen to reason if it shouted in her ear.
"She will marry Robin anyway, and resent you thoroughly," Loveday said, "And Robin isn't so bad a match for her as you think, my dear."
With the boiling of his blood now beginning to cease, Benjamin allowed Loveday's words to penetrate his ever-stubborn skull. Every soft word she said made sense, and the more he thought, the more sense they made. Robin had been Maria's constant companion since the two had met years ago. Maria always lit up around him. Robin had never hurt Maria, Robin had never disgraced Maria. Robin never spoke crudely of her when only in the company of men, as true scoundrels were oft to do, and for Robin to have come to Benjamin for his blessing, as if he were Maria's own father...well, that was rather touching, now he thought about it.
He lifted his eyes to meet Loveday's, and sighed.
"Dearest Loveday," he said, brushing a curl back from her face, "I must, as always, concede matters of the heart to you—"
Their quiet communion was cut short.
Maria burst into the room, face red as a beet and her hands already pressed firmly into her hips. Loveday rose in anticipation, and Benjamin didn't have the chance to so much as lift a finger before Maria and her wrath were set upon him like a vengeful thunderstorm.
"Uncle!" She cried angrily right in front of his chair. "What have you done to Robin?!"
"I—"
"I knew I should have talked to you instead!" She continued as if her uncle hadn't even opened his mouth. "But he insisted he had to do it! And now he won't talk to me!" She pointed a very stern finger at him. "You must go after him and apologize at once!"
Benjamin rose from his chair in consternation. "I—" He'd intended to refuse, entirely, but the girl he now looked upon, well, girl was hardly the right descriptor. She was a young woman indeed, and somehow he'd never noticed. No longer was she the small, orphaned girl who had turned up on his doorstep at the tumultuous age of thirteen. She was, quite shockingly, grown up.
"I shall," he said instead of his original retort.
Maria opened her mouth. Closed it. Stared. "You will?" She asked, sounding very much surprised.
Benjamin nodded, starting toward the door before anyone could make a big deal about it. "I will," he said over his shoulder.
He didn't even bother tracking down his hat before he left the house on a mission quite different from any he'd ever expected to set out on.
++
He was welcomed at Castle Black by the Coeur himself, who apparently had no knowledge of the recent spat, which Sir Benjamin judged to be a good thing. Despite the feud being over for a few years now, he wouldn't have put it past the Coeur to throw him from the battlements for insulting his only son and heir. A shorter battlement, perhaps, so that Sir Benjamin might survive with only a broken leg, but a battlement all the same.
"What brings you here, Merryweather?" Asked the Coeur, who, despite now standing more stooped with age than he had a few years prior, still had a commanding, if not threatening presence. Surrounded by the bleak-ish splendor of one of his many parlors, the impression was all the stronger.
"I am looking for your son," said Benjamin, glancing around the large room on the off chance he might spot his quarry.
"Oh, what has he done now?" The Coeur grumbled, dropping into a chair. "I won't pay for any damages, he can work them off."
"Oh, it's nothing like that, I assure you," said Benjamin quickly. "I just need to talk to him." He cleared his throat, hoping he didn't look as...embarrassed as he felt. "About Maria."
"Ah." The Coeur nodded with a knowing twinkle in his eye. "A more love-sick lad I've never seen." He laughed, a harsh sound even if it was good-natured. "Hasn't so much as looked in another girl's direction for years. He'd never admit it, of course."
Benjamin looked at him in surprise. "So you don't disapprove of him and Maria?"
The Coeur chuckled again. "No, of course not. Maria yells at him like he deserves it, and often enough I'd be the first to say he does. And Robin keeps her from mounting the Merryweather high horse, which is something a lot of you Merryweathers tend to do." Benjamin let that insult slide, oddly enough. "Why, do you disapprove?"
The Coeur's black eyes somehow made Benjamin feel like he was trapped in a tunnel.
He shifted his weight. "Not entirely."
"But a little." The Coeur gave him a large, predator-animal kind of smile and reached for the decanter on the side table next to him, pouring himself a drink. "Not unexpected. A man is always less than thrilled to give away his daughter—or niece, as the case may be—to another man." He brought the contrastingly dainty glass of whatever spirit to his lips. "I'll admit, I'd have rather thrown you from the battlements than let Loveday marry you, but us mere mortals cannot play at the game of Cupid."
Benjamin, along with absorbing the information about being thrown from the battlements, frowned at the Coeur's flowery turn of phrase.
"We can't get in the way of love, Merryweather," the Coeur reiterated grumpily. "Least of all young love, the most dangerous sort."
He downed the remainder of his drink and never bothered to offer Benjamin one. He never asked him to sit down, either, not that Benjamin would have acquiesced. He was far too worked up, and far too in a hurry to set to rights what he'd done wrong. With every moment that passed it became clearer and clearer that he had been far too harsh and reacted very badly to a good situation. Well, good being a relative term. It wasn't bad, but he wasn't exactly thrilled, even after realizing his err.
"He's probably in the forest," said the Coeur, pulling Benjamin from his thoughts.
Benjamin blinked. "Who is?"
"Robin, you dolt." The Coeur scoffed. "It's a wonder you made it this long with such an empty vessel resting on your neck. Now off with you, Merryweather, before I ask you what damages you're trying to work off."
++
After nearly an hour of unceremoniously trudging around the forest, through thick underbrush and hoping he wasn't getting himself lost, Benjamin at last spotted the young de Noir sitting on the low, swooping branch of a great oak tree that hung out over the glass-still water of a small pond.
Benjamin didn't even speak, but his unpracticed footfalls alerted Robin to his presence. Robin looked up, an expression of supreme displeasure crossing his face, and he moved as if to leave.
Benjamin raised a hand. "Robin, I haven't come to shout at you."
Robin looked at him very harshly, and crossed his arms. He didn't bother with manners or removing his hat this time. He just glared and waited for Benjamin to speak again.
"I am afraid I was..." Benjamin cleared his throat. "Mistaken, in my reaction this morning."
Robin harrumphed, and nothing more.
"It has come to my attention, furthermore," Benjamin forged on, embarrassed to admit to himself that Robin's unflattering appraisal of him left him feeling very uncomfortable indeed, "that you and Maria are...entirely suited to each other, and that it is in...everyone's best interest, to extend my blessing for your union."
Robin squinted at him. "Is that the only reason you extend your blessing?"
Benjamin cleared his throat. "No. I extend it because it will make Maria very happy. And I bestow it most willingly, because I believe you will make her very happy."
Gad's teeth. Benjamin wished he could disappear right into the ground at that moment. He wasn't accustomed to such...open conversation, especially not with Robin de Noir of all people, and it certainly wasn't something he wanted to do again.
Robin rose to his feet, still perched on the branch. Not precariously, like someone might expect, but very casually and naturally, as if he were born to gallivant around trees.
"Very well," he said, his mouth looking very much like it was resisting the pull of some impetuous smile, "I accept your apology."
Benjamin almost spat out that he had made no such apology but managed to catch himself. It was best to just leave it be, indeed, and not argue about anything anymore today.
Robin alighted from the tree onto the ground, moving with a kind of silent, agile grace that is usually attributed to cats. Not even the leaves upon the ground dared to crunch beneath his feet as he came to stand in front of Sir Benjamin.
"So I can marry Maria?" He asked, in a tone so serious Benjamin found it unbelievable to have come from Robin.
But he nodded. "Yes."
Robin nodded in return. "Thank you."
And just like that, it was settled. There was nothing else to be done. Benjamin invited Robin back to the Manor for dinner, Robin accepted, and in silence that was nearly comfortable, they walked back to the house.
+
It was all Maria could do to keep her hands off of Robin during dinner. It was all she could do to maintain a respectful distance from him in the parlor after dinner, under the watchful eyes of Miss Heliotrope and Sir Benjamin. Loveday watched, too, but if Maria sat a little close or leaned in a little too near, Loveday never said a word, only smiled.
Somehow, she kept up polite conversation with everyone. Somehow she satisfied herself with sitting across the rug from Robin and catching his eye once in a while.
But at last, when Robin had bid his hosts adieu and departed, Maria excused herself very politely and hurried off to her room.
She knew he would be waiting there. The twinkle in his eye as he had bid farewell had told her that clearly enough.
She threw open her door, and there he was, leaning against the window pane and smiling at her.
"Well, my uncle didn't kill you," she said, shutting the door behind her.
Robin shook his head, his smile turning to a smirk. "Really, it was Miss Heliotrope I was worried about."
Maria laughed, because she knew that was a baldfaced lie. However, Miss Heliotrope had been rather sharp when Robin and Sir Benjamin had entered the house and announced that Maria and Robin were engaged. Miss Heliotrope had done her best attempt at looming and warned Robin against ever doing Maria wrong while waving her umbrella threateningly in his direction.
Maria crossed the room and before she knew it, Robin's arms were wrapped around her, and she lifted her face and he kissed her. Slowly, gloriously, passionately. His lips released her after a moment, but they remained so near to each other that she could feel his smile against hers, his heartbeat within her own chest.
"When shall we be married, Robin?" She whispered against his lips.
"Tomorrow, if you wish it," he said just as quietly. He sounded wholly serious.
"I wish it," she murmured.
"Miss Heliotrope may kill me," Robin said playfully, running a hand over her hair, "but I shall have it arranged."