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HAPPY CHRISTMAS PEASANTS; Ickle Johnny Linley
Topic Started: May 12 2011, 02:02 PM (398 Views)
Isabel Leigh
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Virtue alone is invincible.
Christmas 1506

The snow had accumulated greatly around Kenninghall in spirit of the season -- The entire estate sat snug beneath inches of white powder, and anything else that had shaken the snow off was frosted in retribution. During the day, it was quite a magnificent sight to behold -- and entire kingdom of pristine white, glittering like jewels in the golden sunlight. Isabel Leigh, sixteen and newly rejected for marriage by a Sir Baynton, sat at the window of the great hall, peering out onto the snowy landscape as servants bustled around her, setting things up for Christmas dinner that evening.

After the New Year, the sixteen year-old was primed to be shuttled off to a dowager Countess in Kent -- Since she wouldn't be a wife after all, it seemed she was destined to serve until God knew when. The redhead sighed, her unruly curls moving into her pale face. She was morose with the thought, for she never thought she would be leaving home only to serve someone instead of to marry someone, and with her stepfather going to Calais, it seemed the happy family of the Leighs and Howards were being pulled apart by other forces.

Resting her chin on her hand, Isabel quietly sang a few words of the Coventry Carol to herself. It was Jesus' birthday, was it not?
"Then woe is me, poor Child, for Thee,
And ever mourn and say;
For Thy parting, nor say nor sing,
By, by, lully, lullay.
"


There was no reason to feel sorry for her. It was Christmas! And besides her buckets of siblings, cousins were also about. There was no reason to mourn, she should be joyful! With that, Isabel turned away from the window, her green skirts whirling about her. Now to find one of those siblings or cousins and make merry like she had never made merry before!
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John de Vere of Linley
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Young John de Vere of Linley was dressed in his best! He had on a deep blue with gold and black, and he liked it immensely. It made him feel older, as did the new boots his father had gotten him as a Christmas present. This was always a bit of a happy time of year, because he got to see his cousins. For a boy who had no siblings and no mother, it was exciting to have relations about.

Even his uncle, the Duke. The man was like his father, so big and tall. It seemed like their voice cut through you without raising in the least, making your skin vibrate.

Needless to say Linley had been on, mostly, his best behaviour. He longed to go back outside. He wished to play in the snow. Nobody wished him to get sick, but he would not get sick. It was just a bit of snow, and Kenninghall was nice and warm. Linley did not quite understand what the big fuss was other than he was his father's heir. Well, not just that, but his only child. Even at ten, Little Lord Linley knew he was special.

Seeing one of his favourite red-headed cousins, because she was so kind, John went over by her and gave her a little bow.

"Hello, Isabel!" he said, rather brightly. "What are you singing? You have a pretty voice." He looked over and out the window, at the snow, "It's pretty. I want to go outside and play in the snow." He turned his greyish eyes to her, wondering if maybe she'd volunteer to go with him or if she'd have something else fun to do.
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Isabel Leigh
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Turning from the window, the sight of Isabel's little blond cousin, already dubbed Viscount Linley, was very welcome to her. She had grown up surrounded by children and never had a memory vacant of them. Contrary to what many would think, Isabel was absolutely enamored of children, even from an early age. And when the presence of her siblings might be too grating, her cousins were most welcome, especially little John. He seemed always so happy and willing on the brief occasions that the two interacted.

In response to his bow, Isabel curtsied, giving a smile to her little cousin as he spoke. "'Twas the Coventry Carol from a mystery play. It is rather a sad song, but God and our Savior certainly rejoice in any songs sung to Them, don't you think?" Immediately, her previously gloomy attitude lifted with John's compliment, at which she graciously bowed her head. However, as soon as he suggested going out and playing in the snow, her crown of red curls jerked right back up, her smile breaking into an open mouthed grin.

"Let's." The reply was simple but it did not lack any zeal. She offered her arm, but insisted. "We must bundle up, for I know that our parents shall not be happy with either of us if we were to fall sick from the cold. Thick mantles and gloves are in order, I think and -- Oh, we should build a fortress! Or a snow castle!" Though a woman of sixteen, Isabel found it not at all difficult to revert to childish pastimes or sentiments. She was still, after all, a child, was she not? "But perhaps we should keep our destination a secret -- We don't want to be stopped by a nanny or someone else, do we?"
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Singing was like dancing, Linley supposed it was better than doing nothing. It was certainly not the sort of lessons he relished in, that was a certainty. He liked reading about history and wars. Talking about such things with his tutors was far more to his liking. Little John, who looked very much like his mother and very little like his father, was what some people would call 'pretty' as he had a delicate soft of beauty. It went a long way in getting him things because of his large greyish eyes and cherubic face. Nobody would have guessed that the blond boy was the son of de Vere and nephew of the Howards. He had neither the harshness nor the stoicism of his his father or his uncle.

"I think God should like it because you sing it prettily and wish to please him!" John announced back, happily. His father and uncle were likely afraid he was going to turn out like Uncle Edmund, but Linley was rather enamored of the man, so he did not see what the possible problem was in that! The man was almost always in a pleasant mood, and he had other children for John to play with. Neither his father nor other uncle had that.

"Really?!?" He cheered and then he quieted, looking around conspiratorially, as if understanding that they did not wish to draw attention. "I am not allowed to get sick, my Lord Father forbids it." John nodded, as if to say it was absolute truth. He did not realize how funny the statement was, really. What he mean was that his father forbade him from doing things which might make him sick. "But we can have servants bundle us up well, yes? And then my Lord Father never need know." Because or else he was going to be in trouble. He was still ate the age where he never thought he was going to be caught, though, so he was ever eager. "Oooohhh, a snow castle, with fortifications, and then we can beseige it with snowballs like from canons!" he was completely gleeful, nearly clapping his hands with excitement.
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Isabel Leigh
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Oh, precious little John. Isabel could not help but beam at her cousin's declaration of her wishing to please God. He was correct, and though her mind had lingered on dismal thoughts earlier, all of them were chased away by this dear boy. "Bless you, John. I'm sure He does, but perhaps the next time I sing, it should be a happier song about His son's birth." Songs about the mothers of the sons King Herod slain wasn't a fitting Christmas song at all, in reflection. Well, Isabel wouldn't share that detail...

Isabel nodded enthusiastically, deflecting any glances from the servants preparing the hall. They wouldn't tattle on the two, would they?After all, it would take the redhead and the fair haired boy from the hall, out from beneath their toes... They just had to make sure to not bump into any of Isabel's brothers or sisters. The greater the amount of people, the more attention that could be drawn to them.

"You shall not become ill, for we are very sensible about the cold, aren't we?" Isabel asked, her eyes sparkling. They would certainly have to take the uttermost care with John, for it didn't matter if Isabel were to get sick. No, if little John were to get sick, that would be awful -- And Isabel would certainly get a sound lashing from her Uncles Norfolk and Oxford. "We shall be more warm than a bear in its den! Come -- to the clock room!" Isabel pointed forth as though she were some daring adventurer, and the cloak room their destination, but really it was all in good fun. And from the cloak room, once John was bundled within an inch of his life, they would go out and make merry in the snow.

"If we can snag a bucket from the stables, I think we could make our fortress with thick walls! It would take boulders of snow to break them down, just as it would take the finger of God to siege England's shores!" The patriotism was chipper and proud, and Isabel continued. "But that which we siege shall be weak and flimsy, like that of the French! Perhaps..." The redhead fell silent for a moment. "Perhaps we can get a stable boy or someone to play the French! Oh, how we shall beat them!"
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Ten year old Linley was proficient at ordering servants about to enhance his fun. Not only that but he was fairly proficient at ordering around other boys who were not as grand as he was, because that was just the way he was taught. He would be a great, big, powerful man one day, and he had to act as befit him. He did not know how an act was to fit him or what it had to do with being, but he knew it meant to expect people to act nicely to him and please him. Thankfully for him, he inherited his mother's natural kindness, because he had inherited measures of other things from his uncle Norfolk and his own father.

"Well if we make it so that I do not sense the cold, then I should not get sick," he replied, completely missing the meaning of sensible. He did not pay as much mind to his tutors as he probably should.

"You are my favourite cousin, Isabel! I will give you lots of pretty jewelry when I am older and have father's money!"

He bounded along after her, careful to change into a proper walk if he saw anyone who might tattle on them. Oh buckets and servants! Isabel had such good ideas. He could throw snow with a bucket or pour it! It had not quite figured in his mind to use the bucket as a mold.

"We can get some of the stable boys to help us and make them help build the walls," Linley said, used to having others do the 'work' for him. "And then we will protect it from them when they attack. With snowballs! Because we are strong, smart English soldiers for His Majesty!"

By the time he left the cloakroom it was not the easiest to move about. He felt he had furs coming out of his arse!

"This weights a lot," he said, with a pout, but as soon as they got outside, his pout was gone and he swan-dove into a drift of snow with a giggle. "Come, Isabel! Let us get our buckets and workers!"
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Isabel Leigh
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Isabel nodded very confidently at John's words, for she was certain that was true as well. They would be sensible and nothing bad would happen, Linley wouldn't get sick, and they would have a marvelous time in the frosty, glittery snow while everyone else was inside, probably being bored to death. Oh, they were going to have so much fun!

She could not help but laugh at Johnny's words, and his promise of what he would do when he was older. She stopped long enough to curtsy. "I am most gracious, My Lord Linley, but I think that this day will be reward enough for being your favorite." She gave him a wink and then smiled. "I am fond of you because you are much more sensible than the rest." Of course the only other male cousin Isabel could think of off the top of her head was George Boleyn, and she knew from murmurs that he was rather unsavory, whereas Linley was the most pleasant boy ever! "But we shouldn't say such so loud within the hearing of other ears -- We don't want to hurt the feelings of others, do we?"

Isabel's heart practically melted right then and there at Linley's honorable patriotism -- Oh, what a wonderful boy he was! "God obviously knew what he was doing when he chose us to be English rather than froggy French peoples. But then again, how could a brave boy such as you be anything other than a noble Englishman? We shall pulverize these French servants to dust! That shall teach them for being French!" The irony that Linley and Isabel would be, in effect, making the servants French was lost on Isabel. It turly did serve the servants right for deciding to be French in their games, as it would be.

A thick mantle, a scarf around her neck, and mittens lined with real fur left Isabel feeling quite toasty, whereas her precious cousin looked rather like a bear with all his layers of clothing, and Isabel decided to tell him so. "If I did not know better, I would think you a bear!" She declared as she opened the door to the frosted winter wonderland outside. She watched him gallop past her, burying himself into a mound of snow as he did. Isabel's delighted laughter bounced off the walls of the hall and the stables, and she closed the door shut behind her, falling on her back as soon as she had clearance. "Snow angel!" She hummed, flapping her arms and legs to make such an effigy in the snow.

At her cousin's bidding, she pulled herself to her feet, half of her frosted, and Isabel joined him again. "Indeed! To the stables!" She pointed as she had earlier, and the pair made a path through the glittering snow. Tracks that might have been made previously had drifted over, and so it was as though they were walking on untouched snow as they traveled to the large building that housed the horses. Isabel slid the door open, and once she and Linley entered, they were eyed by several stablemen and grooms.

"Would you like to gather our adversaries, My Lord?" Isabel asked with a glitter in her eye. She was sure that they would listen to the young viscount rather than the stepdaughter of their master's brother. "I'll get the buckets and -- ooh, shovels!"
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Linley nodded vehemently. "I strongly dislike the French. I would hate them but my tutors say that's not Christian. At least I think not. Father says he hates the French all the time." He shrugged. He did not always understand all the rules and such. He tried. His tutors thought he was a little impatient and unruly.

"I am very brave indeed. I have a wooden sword to practice with, and I am very good. I beat all the other boys." He said this proudly, as it could be said that his father was assuredly a boastful man and his uncle was as well. It was little guessing where young Linley picked up on his lordly mannerisms.

Once he was bundle, he dove or rather fell, into the snow jubilantly. Isabel was apparently making a snow angel, but he could hardly lift his head properly to see. He was nearly stuck in snow and it took some doing for him to pull himself up. He was going to die of not being able to move!

"Bears hibernate and sleep all winter. I don't want to sleep. I do not like sleeping." He dusted himself off and eyeballed Isabel's snow angel. "Your angel doesn't have a halo!"

But he was not going to dwell on that long when there was a fort to build and servants to attack. Stableboys made good targets, Linley knew.

Linley had a hard time getting his legs through the snow on the way to the stables. "I will!" He said jubilantly. "They have to listen to me or I'll tell his Grace and get them in trouble! Or father!" He knew not to go to his other uncle, he was too nice and goodly. Although, he was good for other things

"I will send servants to help you carry them," he promised, going into the stables to find someone to gather enough 'French' for them.

Soon they had a little army of workers making them a fort. John filled up the buckets with snow and had a stableboy lug it to their fort and turn it over to make the 'stones' of the fortress.

"I will bring you all something for being very good....French," he promised the servants, frowning at his own statement. That seemed so counterintuitive. Rewarding the French! Pah!

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Isabel Leigh
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"If I am ever captured by a dragon, can I count on my Valiant Cousin Bold to rescue me?" Isabel asked in earnest, biting back a smile. Brave, yes he certainly must be for a boy of his age. Were they not risking a verbal and possible physical lashing for some merriment in the snow? They were both showing just how brave they were, risking ear and back for a trivial but jubilant thing!

Bravery aside, the strength that possessed him to pull himself from the snow when he was encumbered worse than a tinker's cart was also impressive. But then again, Isabel was so used to being around her younger brothers that anything different might seem the feat of a Goliath. Either way, she felt inclined to entertain Linley's thoughts of himself with honest intent and compliments. They were here to have fun after all!

With a conviction Isabel only felt around children, she declared, "Sleep is for the weak!" Spearing a finger upwards in righteous fury. "And if we stay awake, we shall get more done, and who wants to be a bear anyway?" She might be rambling but she was happily being carried away with the joy of what it felt to be a child again. A young woman was not a child, she was a woman. Right now, Isabel was becoming a girl again. Fie on being a young woman! "No halo?" Isabel's lips screwed together in thought and then she declared, "Aha! In the snow right outside the door were the remnants of a small barrel, the cooper's rings left to rust. Isabel plucked one of them from under the snow and placed it above the head. "Fixed!"

Isabel pondered, for a moment, what it would be to play a father as a card to get people to do what you wanted. She would never do such a thing to the man who had raised her, and her true father was long ago put in the ground, and only a simple knight at that. So she simply smiled and nodded at Linley declaring he would tell their uncle or his father if the servants did not accommodate their wishes. Perhaps it was best to have friends and family who could do so...

She marveled after Linley had a few words with the servants and the pair found themselves surveying the servants doing all the work for their grand game. Isabel couldn't help but giggle and think what wondrous fun it must be to be a titled man, even a miniature one! Isabel aided in the packing of some of the buckets, but as she watched the progress and heard Linley's promise, she began making a stockpile of snowballs. "The English have superior weaponry, do we not?" She whispered to her cousin, showing him the slowly growing pile of snowballs. "So if we are subtle enough to make a good deal of snowballs, we can defeat them as easily as the French should be defeated! They will have no time to make their own weaponry and we shall have them pinned! It shall be a glorious victory, and your father will be so proud of your foresight!" The irony that it was Isabel who had this foresight was entirely lost upon the redheaded maiden.
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Linley head his new moniker and beamed.

"I want to be Lord Valiant! Do you think one day I might be able to get properly named that? Or known as that?" He grinned in the snow, his white teeth gleaming. "Isabel, you are brilliant! You should be my advisor!" Ten year old Linley was already making plans for when he was Earl! It did not quite register than when that happened, his father would also be gone. That little detail, which would have stressed him some, was absent. His mind just was not old enough to get all of that.

"I want to be awake all of the time! I would be twice a man, because I'd be twice as active," he declared, which was really a declaration about how grand his tutors were to have gotten an idea like that through Linley's boyish skull.

Linley turned his rigid (with clothes) body to watch his cousin. She seemed to want to fix her angel with a proper halo. Linley did not know how this would happen, unless she drew one with her finger in the white, powdery snow. He jumped with excitement at her ingenuity and memory. She was fun to play with for certain.

You are so smart and resourceful. You will always be my advisor, and others will wonder what it is that makes me so smart. I will have a secret Eleanor of Aquitaine!" He declared this jubilantly and with conviction. A classic mix for a boy of intelligence and breeding.

Linley thought nothing of soliciting help as was his due and expecting people to do as he said, because Linley had been waited on by servants all his life. It was all just very routine and expected for him, and he followed the model of his father and uncle.

As the servant did the bulk of the word of making their fort, Linley consulted with his 'adviser'. He was so pleasant surprise with how smart she was, and girls were no supposed to be as smart as boys. Little John was fairly certain she was an important part of all this!

"You should be Lord Chancellor and advise me, and I will be....regent, because the king is...gone to war...in Spain!" It took Linley awhile to get the whole timeline out in way in which he was not proclaiming himself King. That was wrong. That was a sin and against the law. He could be beheaded!

With blood! And then he'd never be Lord Great Chamberlain!

"And you are quite right, we will easily defeat them. They had no fort." Linley began to make snowballs and such, packing them diligently and tightly. The cold barely bit through his thick layers, but it took some exertion to move his arms.

By the time their fortress was built, they had their armory ready.

"Let us entrench ourselves," he said to his cousin and then yelled to the French. "Prepare yourself you froggies! The attack shall come anon!" He was hardly able to contain himself to wait long enough. He pursed his lips and watching, growing impatient.

"Attack! he called, grabbing balls of snow two at a time and heaving them at the servants, his nose a rosy red and his eyes blinking from he cold breeze.
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Isabel Leigh
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This was so fun! Why on Earth was Isabel lurking inside feeling sorry for herself when there was such fun to be had with her favorite (yes, she concluded that Linley was indeed now her favorite cousin. Tosh on George, Anne, and Mary!) cousin?! Why shouldn't they have fun?!

"I know you shall be known as such! Why, I'll call you such and it shall catch on! Soon you shall be known throughout the whole of England as John de Vere, Lord Valiant and Viscount Linley! It shall be an awful lot to write on letters, but it shall be worth the ink!" Utter giddiness was possibly making Isabel silly, but she was enjoying herself immensely with such silly inclinations. Being a young lady was never as much fun as being a girl!

Linley's simple deduction caused his redheaded cousin to nod vigorously. It seemed he had the same grasp of maths that she did! They were on the same page! "Perhaps you shall grown quite as tall and quite as brave? And twice as learned! I have no idea why no one else has thought of this before! It shall be our secret, and you shall reap the rewards!" Isabel thought she enjoyed sleeping far too much, but in th1at was the potential for Johnny to become more of a man that Isabel would ever be!

She could not help but beam as her cousin lapped praise upon her, and then flushed as he said she would be his Eleanor of Aquitaine! She hoped he did not know the tale of the lady riding bare-breasted into battle pregnant! Perhaps Isabel could work up to that point, but certainly not now! She was not even married, nor did she think she had the proper equipment to perform such a feat! "Thank you, My Lord Valiant!"

Was this what it felt like to be a grand lady with a legion of servants beneath her? Isabel wondered as she watched the servants, now dubbed the French, work to make her and Linley's snow fort. This was rather grand and enjoyable, and it would save both her and Linley's energies for the coming battle, as well as grow their stockpile of ammunition! How wonderful it would be to command servants here and there!

Lord Chancellor? She laughed of merriment. In play she could of course be Lord Chancellor! After all, there were no other males of the gentry present to do so! Isabel was all Linley could rely on at the moment as regent against the French! "I shall accept this calling with perfect humility, Regent Lord Valiant." She declared, bowing her head. "And together, we shall defend England so that when His Majesty comes home, he shall have time to rest from the rigors of war! And then he shall say, 'Oh, good job Regent Lord Valiant and Lord Chancellor Isabel! Here, come to court and pray tell me all about it!'" The world of play was utterly more fascinating and fulfilling than real life, wasn't it?

"The French wouldn't know how to build a fort." Isabel said with a nod. "They're French." That was reason enough, was it not? Isabel grinned as she made their snowballs with vigor as the servants slaved away at their fort. Serves them right for being Frenchies!

The snowballs were placed in empty buckets, and at Linley's call for them to entrench themselves in the fort, Isabel hauled them in with a spray of snow and many giggles. Oh, this would be so much fun! The fort was built more for Linley's size, but Isabel didn't mind. Besides, she could kneel down, or sit on an empty bucket! "These French are capable in instruction -- it must be because of you, Regent Lord Valiant!"

With Linley's call to attack, Isabel grabbed a snow ball from the bucket nearest her, stood up, and chucked it as hard as she could, hitting one of the servants in the stomach. She darted below the wall of the fort and laughed to herself. "I got one! I got one! TONIGHT WE DINE AT KENNINGHALL ON THE TAILS OF A VICTORY AGAINST FRANCE!" Her shouting surprised herself, but she was so enthusiastic about hitting one servant, she couldn't help herself. Grabbing an armful of snowballs, Isabel stood again, throwing her ammunition haphazardly.
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Linley, of course, had not been thinking about Eleanor of Aquitane riding bare-breasted into battle. At ten years old, he simply did not much think about the details of things, nor did he extend his knowledge out to other situations quite yet. All he knew was that Isabel didn't treat him like a little boy who wasn't worth any time.

"Oooo yes, His Majesty will be so pleased with what we did whilst he was away. He will make me a duke and marry me to his daughter, and I will be a prince, and Father will be jealous!" He was so jubilant now, envisioning this as a real possibility. The realities of the world had yet to really make their appearance for the boy. Perhaps his expectations and arrogance were fostered from his father and uncle.

"The French are not so smart," Linley announced with a nod. That was what he had always been led to believe; although, he'd really been led to believe that all foreigners were not so smart as Englishmen. It was only the Pope and such who were foreign and smart and certain well-traveled people who had done battle and such. But the English learned about them and then became smarter from learning. At least, that was what John thought.

"Well they only listen well because they are English servants smart enough to pretend to be French and stupid because it pleases me," he answered as only a boy who was raised to be a great lord could possible answer. He was expected to be that way, to know all about those beneath him and what his place was and to emulate the adults.

It was clear who he was around enough to emulate and who had chosen his tutors.

Linley grabbed snowballs two at a time, pelting them out toward the servants, but he was rather thwarted by the many layers of clothing which did not let his arm do as well as he would like.

"Look, the French are stupid enough to charge out position," he yelled, wishing the servants to come closer so he could hit them, which he happily did, laughing the whole time.

"HAA! Fall you foul French! I will stick my sword in you and keep your valuables! My chancellor and I will present them to His Majesty when he returns."

He pelted servants until he was exhausted and bored and frustrated again with his layers. He pulled at them and pouted.

"It's too warm in here. I am sweaty! We have won, have we not? I want warm spiced cider, we should go back inside after locking our captives back in the stables."

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Isabel Leigh
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Snorting with laughter, Isabel slipped on the snow and fell, causing her to laugh even harder. It wasn't that she was laughing at Linley's expectation to marry one of the princesses, but the way he proclaimed his father would be jealous. It was, to be perfectly frank, one of the most preciously hilarious things Isabel had ever heard, and she was finding it hard to breathe from laughing so much. "I've always... wanted... to be... cousin-in-law of a royal!" She gasped, pulling herself haltingly to her feet. She loved, loved, loved the dreams Linley had. They were so big, so grand! She would never want him to stop dreaming for a single moment!

The redhead nodded vigorously at Linley's statement of English servants smart enough to play dumb Frenchmen, and she added, "As Lord Chancellor, I shall follow you about, and when someone makes a stupid decision, I shall proclaim, 'It does not please His Lordship,' and they shall be taken away. And when it does, I shall proclaim, 'It pleases His Lordship,' and there will be much rejoicing. And because of this, trivial matters and stupid asinine French will never make you unhappy again because they shall already be dead, or in France." It was rather wordy, but Isabel was taking her duties as Lord Chancellor quite seriously. Besides, Linley was too busy keeping the French at bay to properly give directions as to what else might please him. Isabel would shoulder that responsibility.

Isabel was pleased with her aim. It was not the best, but she was certainly hitting enough targets. The French-English servants never stood a chance -- part of it was probably because Linley was titled and young and an only son, so harm done to him would be most dire. At the remark that the French were stupid, as they were, Isabel had an idea. "My Lord Valiant Regent, look!" She turned about and lobbed a snowball over her head. It arced better, hitting one of the servants in the far back. "IT IS LIKE A CATAPULT!" She then continued to fire so, for that would bring the French closer to the wrath of her cousin, would it not?

She would add little embellishments and cheers to her cousin's words such as, "Huzzah!" and "Indubitably!" After all, this was Linley's glorious victory, not hers. She was merely Lord Chancellor.

At his suggestion, the redheaded nodded. They were running low on snowballs, after all. "Lead the way, Lord Valiant Regent." The servants, half-frozen, beaten to a pulp, and some bleeding a bit from icy snowballs, seemed only too relieved the ruse was over. Like prisoners of the military commander Linley was supposed to be, the French/servants were marched back to the stables, and Isabel and Linley turned back towards Kenninghall. "What a grand victory, My Lord. There shall be songs sung of it for thousands of years and your father should be very proud and... jealous." She could not help but add that in there after Linley's earlier statement. A jubilant grin split her face open, and she laughed, twirling in the snow with glee.
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Isabel is in 8 threads and can has more!
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