𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐦

Act I, Scene VI

"To mourn a mischief that is past and gone is the next way to draw new mischief on."
~ William Shakespeare, Othello

__________

Twenty-Nine Nights Ago

*

The stairs squeaked beneath their polished boots as Arthur snuck Lucy below deck on his father's largest ship. He walked two paces ahead of her, oil lamp held aloft to light their way. The only witness to their midnight escapade was the full moon hanging in the night sky.

"I will fall to my death on these narrow steps!" Lucy hissed at her guide. "Give me your hand, you git!"

Even obscured by shadows, she could see the mischievous grin that spread across Arthur's youthful face.

"Well, we wouldn't want that now, would we, your highness?" he teased.

Snickering, he reached his hand out to her, and she took it. They continued the descent slowly, their footsteps falling in time as though choreographed.

"You know," he said conversationally, "it's hardly my fault you're clumsy as sin."

"It's hardly my fault you were too lazy to bring me aboard during the day," she countered. "Yet here we are!"

She began giggling, the sound echoing through the still and silent lower deck.

"Shhh-ssshhhhhhh!" Arthur turned, releasing her hand and putting a finger to his lips. His urgent shushing did nothing to hide the fact that he was stifling laughter of his own.

"Are you trying to get us caught?" he demanded, his tone anything but earnest.

Feigning abhorrence, she put a theatrical hand to her chest. "Arthur James Wilhern!" she chided. "Did you neglect to ask your father's permission to be here tonight?"

"What?" he cried in mock indignation. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing? Of course I asked permission!"

"Of course," Lucy repeated.

"Via a letter," Arthur said.

"Mmmhmm."

"That I left on the desk in his study..."

"Mmmhmm."

"...that he will likely not find until morning."

Arthur wiggled his eyebrows and grinned.

With a laugh, Lucy gave him a playful shove, causing them both to nearly tumble down the remaining steps. Chuckling, they helped each other upright.

"I'll have you know, sir, I will not be arrested for you!" Lucy informed him. "Should the authorities find us, I will sing like a canary!"

"I'd expect nothing less, you conniving minx."

"Ungrateful prat!"

They began snickering again, shushing each other all the while.

Lucy gazed at Arthur's dimly lit profile with fondness. In spite of their engagement, Lucy's behavior toward Arthur remained more like his childhood friend than his betrothed. And although they put on airs in front of their parents — playing the part of the proper, aristocratic couple — Lucy knew he preferred it. As did she. Arthur was her reprieve: the only person with whom she could truly be herself. It was both unfashionable and unbecoming for a woman born of wealth to prize study and knowledge above all else, but Arthur admired Lucy's love of books, and supported her desire to learn all she could. For that, she would forever be grateful.