Work Text:
Set during the King’s and Queen’s rather unconventional honeymoon.
~
The King was still in the process of being dressed for the day, as always up with the first rays of sun when he sought Reynolds eyes through the mirror to address him. “I think I shall go riding today, it’s a gorgeous morning, isn’t it?”
His secretary stayed pleasantly calm, but his wandering eyes betrayed his true emotions. “Of course, your Majesty, a splendid idea.” He looked unsure on whether to continue.
“But?”
Reynold’s eyes caught his gaze. “But if his Majesty still wishes to avoid her Majesty’s company today, it'd be wiser to choose a different activity this morning, as she has a visit to the stables and riding lesson planned, Sir.”
George huffed and turned this way and that as his aide finished up the last of his lacings and muttered, more to himself and the mirror. “How come you know my wife’s schedule better than me, her husband…”
Reynolds still heard and drew himself to attention, his face a stony mask. “I would never presume such a thing, Sir, I simply talked to her secretary about her plans this morning.”
George nodded in understanding and was a few steps to the breakfast room until he tilted his head back in confusion. “When have you had time to confer with Brimsley though, it is barely after sunrise?” He missed the slight falter in his secretary’s usually secure step and got a fumbled answer.
“He- I-“ Reynolds cleared his throat and forced his features to smooth over with a deep breath. “We have a habit of tending to our early morning exercises together, your Majesty, a habit we picked up during our apprenticeships, to keep our bodies healthy and ready to serve the crown.”
“Oh, how lovely! I must say I admire your dedication, Reynolds.”
“Thank you, your Majesty.”
It wasn’t until a few days later, when Reynolds woke him up and had finger-shaped bruises on his sides that showed when his waistcoat rose too far up while he stretched to open the curtains in George’s room, that the King understood the amused titter that one of the serving maids couldn’t quite suppress after overhearing the end of their conversation.
Early morning exercise indeed.
~
Princess Augusta, the Queen Mother, thought herself a very capable and perceptive woman – otherwise she would not have gotten where she is today. So the fact that the two young secretaries were hiding something from her when called upon is blindingly obvious to her: Their suppressed fidgeting says more than any actual fidget might. She’s known them for some long years, Brimsley training under her own aide while Reynolds was the apprentice to George’s late secretary Mayfield. Looking at the two men in front of her now, posture too perfectly straight to not be hiding something, she continued her questioning. She needed to find out what secrets they were hiding pertaining to the royal couple.
“So has the King shown… interest in her then?” Her unwavering gaze fell onto the taller of the two.
“Yes, indeed, he has.”
Reynolds gaze is also firm, too firm for her too not dig deeper with a questioning eyebrow.
“He has on many occasions remarked on her womanly…shape.” The hesitation did not strike her as a lie, but still rather odd. Was he afraid to speak plainly in front of her, a lady?
“He has?” From the corner of her eye, she caught a twitch of Brimsley’s lips.
“Oh yes, he said he found her-“ Augusta got impatient at this point and gestured him to continue. Her advisors to the side seemed as uncomfortable as the young servant. “…endowment to be quite-“
Again he was interrupted, this time by Brimsley who quickly excused his cough with a stilted, “My apologies, do go on.”
“…pleasing.” The expression on his face seemed more and more forced, but as Augusta looked at them, she did not find the expected embarrassment about talking their superiors like this but rather something like mirth in Brimsley’s eyes. They exchanged a quick, barely perceptible glance but the aborted eyeroll and sigh of resignation by Reynolds that followed did not go unnoticed by her sharp eyes. His defeat seemed to be shortlived, though, and was replaced by a similar shine to his eyes as she looked from one to the other. She tried to make sense of their amusement, thinking they’d grown out of boyish flights of flimsy and teasing like this.
Brimsley carefully nodded his assent. “Yes, they seem quite taken with each other – happy!”
They shared another look, their badly-concealed smiles now matching. And oh, she saw it now.
“Very happy, your Majesty,” Reynolds confirmed.
This did explain a lot to her and she could barely keep her own pleased grin from showing. She’d solved this mystery at least.
“Very well, thank you both. You are dismissed.”
They bowed and left together, and Augusta felt back on top of things – they had not lied to her about anything of importance in the end, her son’s marriage was flourishing and her great experiment save. And well, at least this reduced the amount of illegitimate babies in the servant quarters that she’d have to worry about.
~
Charlotte still couldn’t get over feeling bad for making Brimsley just stand around when she was doing – anything really. She felt even worse for making him wait outside when she and George retreated to their rooms together.
Sometimes she found herself pondering what the protocol in this situation was, and if he stood to attention the whole time or if he started conversing with Reynolds while the latter waited for the king.
Still a bit out of it, so to speak, these thoughts ran through her head as she threw the doors open and joined her secretary outside George’s rooms once again to leave for hers.
Reynolds slipped inside to George and left her swaying closer to Brimsley than normally, and she fully blamed her next actions on the lingering haziness of her mind.
“You really must have a word with the laundry maids to straighten out your uniforms more thoroughly.” She reached out and rightened the collar of his shirt to its proper position when she noticed the reddish bruise on his neck, parts already turning purple. She became vaguely aware that Brimsley seemed to be holding his breath and only released it upon hearing the stifled noise Reynolds made. He was watching them while he had come to close the grand wings of the door again. There was some guilt in his boring gaze, but the crinkles around his eyes told her of his amusement as she looked back from one man to the other. Brimsley was still motionless as a statue, and the panic in his eyes was growing and she was still very close to him, and somebody had to- Charlotte tugged the collar up and over so it was covering the bruise and stepped back quickly.
“There, that’s better.”
She nodded to herself, a crisis well averted and took off quickly, the stunned Brimsley struggling to keep stride behind her. It wasn’t until she was halfway to her quarters that the pieces fell into place and the stopped abruptly, Brimsley nearly crashing into her. Oh. Well then. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. For instance, hadn’t Brimsley seen her off earlier with a dark blue cravat, rather than the wine red one he was sporting now? Charlotte chuckled to herself in amusement and continued to walk before her secretary could ask what was wrong.
At least she gotten one of her questions answered today.
And if she tended to visit George’s quarters more often than he came to hers – George’s quarters with the ones of his secretary nearby whereas Brimsley’s are a respectable distance away from own – well nobody had to know that.
~
This whole conversation was making less and less sense to Agatha the longer it went on. No matter her proposals, something was always shut down. They had only managed to agree on an activity upon reaching her waiting carriage, but she was not leaving until this next meeting was scheduled, even though the sun was burning down on them now. They had decided to simply go for tea again and nothing more extravagant, despite her pushes for a picnic outside. But how come she wanted to make plans with the Queen for tea - with her secretary taking over the scheduling on her insistence that he had her calendar better memorised than her - and now she was standing in the middle of the bizarre duo that was the Queen’s and King’s right-hand men.
Apparently, they needed to throw in the King’s duties as well so they would not collide with any planned time between the two monarchs?
However, even more confounding that the fact that the royalty needed a schedule for just meeting up was the lighting fast communication between the two men – those two seemingly reading each other’s faces and minds.
“How about tomorrow?” Her inquiry was simple enough, but sent the two off.
“Tomorrow would work for the Queen-“
“No, he has plans for them and the-“
“Yes, yes, nevermind tomorrow then. How about the 4th?”
“The fourth? Do you not recall your maths, the 4th is-“
“Ahh of course…”
“The day after- no, no that one stop it with that face, no need for that.”
“And the Friday?”
The Queen’s aide looked up at the other with defeated resignation and received a sheepish., "Ahh, yes, nevermind then," as the other answered his own question.
“Hm-hm.”
At this point they were just staring at each other, and whatever question the blond found in his colleague’s eyes, he responded with a tilt of his head, giving a slow nod. The two of them turned to her as one and Brimsley spoke for both.
“If this Saturday is agreeble to you, I think it would be a most lovely time for a spot of afternoon tea?”
The blond chimed in. “And then there’s plenty of time for the-“
“Exactly.”
Agatha looked from one to the other, utterly exasperated. “Yes, Saturday sounds most delightful, let us arrange that.”
“Consider it done.” Brimsley gave a little bow of his head and turned his winning grin at his companion, who, as if ignited, returned the smile just as brightly. They caught each other’s eyes and quickly redirected their grins at their feet, still scarily in synch. In that moment, Agatha realised it was not just the sun to be blamed for the flush that rose up their cheeks and she had to hold back a shake of her head. It made sense now, but everything was urging her to warn them – this could only end in pain. Though, spotting the happiness in their eyes and still reeling from depth of the connection they seemed to share, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She might as well have fun with it, though.
“Alright then, brilliant.”
Brimsley held open the carriage door for her and she placed her foot on the step before she turned around once more. “The two of you are aware that you are about as subtle as a raging bull in a ballroom, right?”
With that she left them spluttering and gasping for explanations and signalled the driver to drive off.
~
“Darling, do you think people suspect anything about, well, us?”
“No, of course not. How would they know?”
~
Brimsley and Reynolds were the second to their respective monarch in every situation, the quiet shadows, always right behind them, following and assisting before there was even need to ask. If you saw them anywhere, it was always at the side of the King or Queen. Anything that got to the royals had to first go through them, they were the second opinion, second presence in all of their phases of the day and night.
And, after the King’s and Queen’s actual loving feelings for each other being hidden behind their insistent hatred, the two of them also held the title of second worst kept secret in the royal household.