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rosesnink · 2 years ago

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The Young Hero’s Tale

Author’s Notes

When I tell you this mfer gave a whole ass month of radio silence and only talked to me at 3 am... but it was done! ...At almost 7 am and with a sugar rush, but it was written and all that jazz!! :D These intermissions are almost done (only three to go!!) and the series will likely wrap before the 1st of September. The next one up is Miss Holloway. Anyways, remember this follows TCH’ s storyline and will thus be spoiled. Enjoy!!!!

English is not my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes

If you want to see the other’s stories, click here!!

I will be publishing more stories like these over the summer, like Briar or Miss Holloway, so stay tuned for more!!

Summary: Harry tells us what he has been up to

Word Count: 4.8k

Category: Angst, fluff, the works

Pairing: Harry Foredale x Theresa Sutton (though the story is more about Harry as a person but there are some scenes)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Grief, strong language, suggestive themes, mentions of murder, death and grief. You’ve been warned.

Book: Desire and Decorum (AU, previous and after the main events)

December, 1810

Harrison Foredale had been celebrating Christmastime with his family, carolling and the first time the Suttons would be there as future in-laws of the family. They all had gone out in their outfits, celebrating the start of a new decade. But for Harry, Theresa looked exquisite that night. The green dress complimented her brown skin and her striking dark eyes, keen and observant on everyone. He was aware of her reputation as a tattletale, but he knew there was something more of that. Her observations were even-keeled and she always seemed to be one step ahead. From what he had talked to her, she was a woman of a striking mind, despite being ten and seven.

Edmund, however, did not seemed much thrilled about it. In a few weeks, he’d be twenty, but he was grumpy about it. Theresa seemed eager to sing one single carol, and he could not help it: it was impossible for him to deny her anything with such a beautiful face. He smiled “I don’t mind singing if you play the piano. You play it lovely, by the way.”

Theresa smiled at him and she started playing. While he was singing, he looked several times to Theresa, who was focused on the keys. She seemed nervous to mess up and fail her future mother-in-law. He placed for a few seconds his hand on her shoulder, which seemed to assure her she was fine. The song carried on and everyone clapped, commenting what a great duo they were: future brother and sister bonding over music.

His hand still burned with the small touch and he flexed his hand, hoping to take off such feeling. Brushing off such thought, he proceeded to continue to enjoying himself. It had been just a small brotherly gesture, right?

Right?

July, 1812

Countess Henrietta had hosted a ball to celebrate the engaged couple, and Harry had been told to be on his best behaviour. Despite still being a golden student and gentleman, he was prone to mischief lately with Miss Parsons. They both gave headaches to the staff and sometimes Edmund. The reason behind it? Something had been on his mind. Or more like someone.

He couldn’t quite get Theresa Sutton out of his head, and when she wasn’t near, he could hardly breathe properly and sought an excuse to see her. His father noticed, but said nothing. He probably thought it was a silly teenage boy fancy that’d soon pass. How wrong he was.

Edmund, as usual, was cranky and unwilling, and when he left to drink more and sulk in public and saw Theresa on the verge of tears, he couldn’t contain himself. He extended his hand and smiled at her “Dance with me, Tess.”

The shock of such liberties dried her tears and she blinked “Tess?”

His ears flushed “Too much?”

She smiled widely “I quite like Tess!” She took his hand and he guided her towards the ballroom. As they danced, Theresa rambled about the new gossip, and he listened attentively, making comments with her and laughing at her jokes. He could spot Annabelle raising a bemused eyebrow and making herself scarce to the balcony. They’d probably play their game later. Despite being away from being taller than Edmund, he managed to spin Theresa, for he was a few inches taller than her. As the dance was over, he curtsied to her and smiled to her.

“I look forward our next dance… Tess.”

She giggled and went towards Miss Bowman, whispering about something. He prayed that it’d be him. He wanted so badly for her to talk nonstop about him at the same rate he thought of her. Endlessly. Constantly. With barely any rest from his mind. Making his head spiral for hours only thinking about how her eyes smiled as brightly and widely as her lips.

Shaking his head, he went towards Annabelle, who was already waiting for him. She started the game “My name is Mr. Sinclaire, and if someone else mentions my wife’s name, I shall bury myself alive in my study for ten years at least!” She cried, with her best baritone voice.

“Give the man some slack. Were I him, I would have moved counties the moment the rumours started.”

Annabelle laughed, and Harry smiled. He observed Viscount Westonly and said “Oh, have you heard about my new wife’s teeth? They are far less yellow than my previous, who died only three months ago! Oh, how time flies indeed,” Said he, imitating the man to perfection, making Annabelle double in laughter. He was quick to join her.

“Alright, you know what?” Annabelle exclaimed “Elephant in the room, I’ll address it: do you fancy Miss Sutton?”

Harry was first frozen, sputtering a response before clearing his throat “Maybe… I don’t know! I’m confused!”

“You do know she’s an engaged woman, right?”

He sighed, watching wistfully at how she giggled with one of Annabelle’s sisters. She placed a hand on his shoulders “Hopefully, engagements can end. Women back out all the time, they get cold feet. No one would bat an eye.”

He chuckled bitterly “I don’t know if she feels the same.”

She shrugged “You lose nothing by asking her. Edmund won’t punch you. He adores you way too much to do so. Not that he’s the violent sort either.”

Harry chuckled. He was not a violent or jealous man, and had proved not to be very much pleased with being tied down so soon. Maybe they could talk… but first, he needed to clear his head and know what feelings were those, though the fact that his breathing was not the best when she wasn’t around was certainly a sign that he felt something.

“I shall talk to him when the ball is over.” He concluded.

He told his brother that night in their father’s study, and Edmund was shocked to say the least.

“So… Theresa.”

“I can’t get her off my mind, brother! She’s everywhere! I always want to talk to her, see her, be near her, listen to her, and I—I dream of her as well! And it’s killing me! Because I don’t want to dishonour her or you, and I don’t have the heart to tell Father.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. I don’t love her.”

To say that Harry was surprised was to say the least. However could he not love a woman like her?! She was perspicacious, intelligent, insightful and with a golden heart that was too big for her small complexion, and he expressed it so. Edmund was delighted and surprised of the magnitude of his feelings.

He also expressed his promise to Annie.

“Brother, what are you plotting?”

“As you know, the two of you are quite older than I. And Annie needs someone who can protect her from much older men. So, I suggest that you remain engaged to Tess and I to Annie until I become of age. I will propose to Tess immediately, and you can be free of marrying whoever you want.”

After discussing and perfectioning the plan, they both sealed the deal and parted ways.

Early Autumn, 1815

Harry had been pondering about something that had happened a few days prior to the hunt he was in with his brothers, the others cowering once they saw the grey skies. Edmund insisted on going for that boar, and Harry had to oblige. When it came to tracking and finding the beast in question, he was brilliant, but his aim did not agree with such abilities. Harry was the one to make the deadly shot. They were a team.

As Edmund ranted where the damned boar could be, Harry remembered once again his encounter with Miss Sutton…

Three days before

Harry always found solace in the highest tower of Edgewater. When he wanted to clear his mind, he always laid in the Ottoman and gave some pondering to his life. That is what he planned, having his eighteenth birthday around the corner… when he heard sobs. A woman’s sobs. He quietly got to the door and knocked “Miss, are you alright?”

“I’m—I’m fine.” She responded. His breath got caught. Theresa.

“Tess? Is that you?”

The woman sniffled “Maybe…”

His heart dropped. He wanted to slam the door open and embrace her as hard as he could, but alas, he had to tread carefully. Theresa was a sensitive soul. He placed his body against the door “May I come in? Maybe a friendly ear could help…”

“Why would you want to hear me out? Go away, I don’t want your pity.”

“I could never pity you, Tess. I am genuinely concerned about you and want to help you. Please,” he pleaded “let me in.”

He waited for the longest three minutes of his life, before he heard a crash. Afraid that she had fainted out of heartbreak, he slammed the door open and looked for her. She looked at the broken glass and, luckily, she was unharmed. Or at least he thought. He quickly came towards her and, without touching her, looked for any cuts “Are you hurt? Should I call the doctor?”

For once, she looked annoyed “I said I am fine! Go away, my lord.”

He shook his head “I am not leaving you in such a state.”

She pushed him “I said leave! I don’t need your consolation. Go back to your beloved fiancé.”

She pushed him again, but he didn’t budge. When she tried again, he grabbed her arms, and, without thinking, pushed her against him “tell me who made you cry. I will make their heads roll.” He murmured.

Theresa looked at him “It is not your task.”

“I want it to be my task,” he whispered.

“Harry… please… think of your brother—,”

“He knows.” He said, without thinking.

Theresa blinked “Knows what, Harry?”

He gulped, trying his best not to be intoxicated by her essence, or her hot breath against him, or to look at her tempting, beautiful lips. “Knows what?” She demanded again.

“That I…” his breath was hot and quick, his only thought of kissing her until he forgot himself.

“That you… what, Harry?”

He did not answer. Instead, he kissed her for a second. Theresa pushed him away.

“Forgive me,” he breathed “I did not mean to take—,”

Then, something extraordinary happened. Theresa was the one to kiss him. A hard, passionate kiss that made his head swirl with thoughts. He quickly seized her hips and begged her closer. Theresa quickly grabbed his hair, and he sighed. Was this real? Was he dreaming?

“Oh, Tess, my Tess…”

“Harry…” she breathed.

He was about to start kissing her neck when she heard a gasp, and something metallic falling. Shit, he thought.

He could spot someone running away. Someone from the staff. A woman. He looked back at Theresa. They had been caught red-handed. If this was known, it was over for everybody. All these years of patient waiting would go to hell.

“Go to the library and pretend that you were reading. I shall find a solution.”

Then, he ran behind the running maid. Thankfully, he had a great hearing and was a very fast runner. He chased her down the stairs and caught her arm and covered her mouth before taking her to a small room that only staff used and placed her against the wall “You saw nothing,” he whispered “you heard nothing. The door was closed, and nobody was there. If you tell anyone, I will make sure you return to your village and never step out of there ever again. Starting by making sure no respectable house ever hires you. Are we clear?”

“Then I want money,” she spitted “a lot of it.”

“Damn it, woman!” he tried his best not to scream “Be discreet and you shall keep your job.”

“Give me money, or I’ll tell everybody that you are sleeping with your brother’s fiancé. That the two of you are lovers. Secretly married, even.”

He took a deep breath “Just tell me how much.”

“Five grand, and I want it in a week’s time.”

She escaped his grip and left. Harry punched the wall and grunted, full of rage. He had to think of something… he would not be able to reunite 5,000 pounds in a week without arising suspicions.

“Brother? Are you alright?” Edmund called.

Harry shook his head, waking from his trance, and nodded “Yes. All is well, brother.”

“It doesn’t seem well. You look worried.”

Harry was starting to debate whether to tell him about the scullery maid when Edmund spotted the boar. He tried to shoot it, but his shot failed, and the boar was angry. It lunged towards him, and Harry didn’t even think of it. He put himself between the boar and his brother, giving him a fatal blow in the face. He cried out of pain, and could only stab the boar, killing it instantly. Edmund hurried towards his wounded brother.

Then, realisation came to him. He had a way of saving everyone.

“We must call a doctor, get you to the house—,”

“No, brother. I know that you eavesdropped on me and that guard. I have made a decision. I will accept his offer and work for the king.”

Edmund shook his head “But Mother—,”

“She shall not know. Because I will fake my death to do it.”

“What about Theresa?”

He told him everything that had happened. And his plan: with his death, though Annabelle would be quite unprotected, everyone would be too sad to even believe a maid’s slander. Edmund had to find a way to fire her and send her away. Only he and Bishop Monroe would know. They’d tell him as well.

And so, when Bishop Monroe went over to prepare Harry’s ‘body’, they told him everything. The bishop was scandalised, but accepted nevertheless. It was best to oversee it himself so the boy would be safe. Otherwise, he’d send him to his death, he declared upon accepting such a deal.

“I shall send you to my trusted man, the son of an old friend: Comte Renard D’Ouleur. Tell him what brings you there and that I have sent you. He’ll understand and protect you. I have been visiting your father quite often. I shall find a way to be rid of the maid and leave no traces. Now, prepare everything, boy.”

Harry did as he was told and, with a heavy heart, packed the necessary things in one tiny bag to not arouse suspicion. He then hid in a chamber of the chapel that only authorised staff was allowed to come.

When the time came, he and Bishop Monroe revised the escape plan.

“Let us be clear: I shall wait for everybody to be inside the church and till the service is at its peak and will escape through a secret passage. Then, I will put on a hood and wait for the secret service that is sent for me in the forest.”

“And do not look at anybody in the eyes or speak until you’ve left the country.”

Harry nodded. This was it. There was not coming back. He took a deep breath. Then, he picked his bag and nodded at the old bishop “If something happens to my parents while I’m gone… then tell them.”

Bishop Monroe nodded. Then, they shook hands and parted ways.

If he had known what would happen during his absence, he would’ve stayed despite the scandal that would’ve brought.

February, 1816

A year, two months, seven days, eight hours and twenty-four minutes. That was the time he had been on France, pretending to be a farmer from Normandy by the name Jerome Reilly. And it wouldn’t have been possible without his closest friend right now, Comte Renard. Despite his dark façade, he was a good, astute and intelligent man who did his duty very well. He was even an older brother to him.

As they observed from afar how two men, who were known to serve the Bonaparte family, talking in a suspicious manner, Renard murmured something and handed over a letter to Harry.

“What is it?” He asked in French.

“A letter from London. It came while you were interrogating the milkman. I’ve yet to master the language, but it says something about a possible lost sister.”

“A what now?” He tried not to make too much noise, but the waiter side-eyed him. He started reading the letter. There was indeed talk at Edgewater, and not about him as he had thought. About a possible lost sister by the name of Joanna. A bastard daughter, no less.

He shook his head. It may be just that, he thought, gossip.

A month later, a letter from Edmund arrived, and indeed, the earl, his lord father, did have a bastard daughter by the name Joanna Mills who would inherit his rightful place as the heir of Edgewater. He had never liked the idea of being an earl, but this was outrageous! They had just met her, and she was already in the same position he had been!

“I should go back,” Harry thought out loud.

“And I’d allow you,” argued Renard “but we still have some business left to do! It may take us three months at least.”

“Three months?!” Cried Harry “By then, that Joanna girl will have usurped my title and will be married!”

The Comte frowned “You cannot leave on a whim, boy. The colonel hasn’t allowed it, and leaving would be considered treason! You will leave when the superiors see it fit!”

“But…” He sighed. He did have to finish this first “Fine.”

May, 1816

Having received news that Joanna had been murdered was not what Harry expected. But what he least expected was to meet the infamous redheaded woman in his apartments. A mix of feelings came over him. Surprise. Anger. Vengeance. Disgust.

He had heard that she preferred swords and books to sewing and painting, but he didn’t expect her to be an experienced swordswoman… or a fighter for a reason. Or much less to be…not human. Those amber eyes were not human. And when she told him the whole story, including what she had kept a secret, he was dumbfounded. And the fact that they argued. And when they calmed down, they discussed their father’s death. Want it or not, she had many traits of a Foredale.

“If you’re the Crown Princess of Dracaria,” he asked “who is going to take over Edgewater?”

Joanna sighed, “If I had a son, I’d make him my heir and appoint you his guardian until he reached twenty, but since my fiancé and I never had the luck… it seems that you’re the only one left.”

The idea of coming back and making the Herculean task of taking Edgewater back on track was certainly scary, but someone had to do it.

“We can do it together, fellow death-cheater.”

They both laughed out loud for a few minutes, forgetting about what would come next. Maybe he was wrong. She did not seem like the poisoning type, much less someone who ambitioned the position and title. She didn’t even seem thrilled to inherit a throne, or possess a great power, for that matter. All she wanted was a regular life. He could not blame her. Deep down, he too, wanted to be someone else. Ordinary. Irrelevant. Simple, with a simple life and simple challenges. They both bonded over that soon.

Her life, nevertheless of her inner desires, seemed to be full of splendour. Her castle was gigantic, and was full of life and magic, even though he knew little of it. Her ways were certainly curious and fascinating to process.

There were several things Harry thought about as his journey back home commenced. Berating Edmund for having broken his promise to Theresa and himself. Killing the duke. Giving his consent to burn down everything. Make Theresa his wife no matter what.

And when Joanna arrived with the cavalry, those four words he had awaited for finally came to his ears “Give those bastards hell.”

The procession was outwardly. The horses had incredible sizes, and as her staff cried out that she had returned, everyone bent their knee. He felt like a king coming back victorious from a crusade. When he spotted the duke, he knew he could not fail. He threw the dagger and it stroke in the right place. He smirked. He would not terrorise anyone ever again. A few miles away, his properties, as well as Gideon’s, burned, alongside the melting heads of Gideon and his goons in spikes. Many gasped and cried out from horror, but the lowest class roared in victory for the Lady Joanna, the people’s lady.

They rode for days, gaining cheers and support from several nobles, drinking to their triumph and plotting many things.

Coming home was bittersweet. He had left as a criminal and was now a hero to the people. As she gave out a speech, Harry realised that, despite not liking the idea, she had the heart and stomach for ruling. Reuniting with his family was just as bittersweet. But he was happy nevertheless.

“Oh, good God, Harry?!” Theresa cried out. As Joanna left, Harry couldn’t help but greet Theresa. She smiled widely “You’re…you’re alive.” She gasped at the scar, and her fingers grazed it “Good Lord in Heaven, what happened?!”

“Tis nothing. It doesn’t hurt anymore. Being away from those I love… that hurt me a thousand times more.”

“Oh, Harry…”

He kissed her hand and whispered “Meet me by the lake in three days’ time.”

“Oh, no, I am not marrying you now!” The Bishop cried “The last time I married a Foredale in secret it ended up badly! No, this is too much, my lord.”

Theresa pouted “Can we at least have a permit to marry?”

He nodded “That I can do. How does March soon?”

“I want her to be my wife as soon as it is possible.” Harry declared.

Bishop Monroe sighed “I hope I do not have to witness the day your sister marries, given her temper.”

They signed the paperwork, and soon walked back to Edgewater. Harry was drunk of happiness, and couldn’t help but kiss her right against the door of her guest room “I can’t believe I am to make of you my wife and countess.” He breathed.

“Believe it, my love.”

They both stood there, looking at one another, hardly breathing and each one battling against the same feeling. Finally, desire won and soon Theresa opened the door, kissing Harry hard on the mouth. He closed it with one movement of his hand and soon they were on the bed, giving into their passion for one another. Theresa was not the clueless and innocent woman she pretended to be. She was beyond his imagination: passionate, thoughtful and someone who knew more things that she let on, and he was not for once the perfect, dutiful and prodigal son. He was Harry, a man madly in love with the woman he was laying with. He asked her several times if she was sure, and those times he was met with a “Yes. Now shut up and kiss me.”

For once, he did not care of tomorrow. He did not care of what the staff could hear. They were free, in each other’s bare arms, revelling in their passion after years craving it.

On the beginning of November, as Harry worked on the ledgers, Theresa came with a wide smile on her face.

“What is it, my love?”

“I have learned wonderful news.”

“What news?”

She closed the distance and placed his hand on her belly. Harry’s breath got caught “Are you…?”

“Yes,” Theresa confirmed in tears “I am with child.”

They both laughed as he spun her around, smiling and laughing. He kissed her enthusiastically, and for once, did not think of telling Grandmother or his mother. He was going to be born in wedlock, and that was enough.

1st of September, 1817

Harry watched as the scene in front of him played out: Theresa with their son Edward in her arms, chatting animatedly with Mrs. Briar Marlcaster, and her daughter Joanna Jr., and Joanna’s son Thomas. He was around three years old, and had her same fiery red hair and inquisitive eyes, with a witty response… witty in terms of a three-year-old boy, that is.

She and Mr. Sinclaire shared secret glances, but to anyone residing in Edgewater was no secret the many times he was spotted coming out of her room or how they looked at each other across the table. Mr. Harper had been busy with his new status as a decorated hero, and was talking with the youngest Miss Parsons. Lady Grandmother was inside, resting, and his own mother was observing the scene. She and Joanna shared a look. They had buried the hatchet and were beginning a cordial relationship.

Despite the crisis outside the territory, they had never been happier. A new age of peace and prosperity was ahead of them, and no one would disturb it ever again.

My name is Harrison Joseph Foredale, son of Vincent Foredale II and Henrietta Marlcaster. I was born during a turbulent time, for my father’s reputation wasn’t at his best and my grandfather had died a few months later.

Ever since I was a child, I felt the pressure of inheriting since I could think on my own. I strived to be the best, the wittiest, strongest, the most charming man in the room. I never once allowed myself to think of another life for myself. I was to be earl like my father, and his father before me, and so on since the times of William the Conqueror.

It all took a turn when I fell in love with my brother’s fiancée, Theresa Sutton. She may have fooled everyone, including you, into being a tattletale who is not brilliant or insightful, but believe me when I say she is.

I had hatched a plan in 1812, when I was fourteen years old, to protect my already betrothed and best friend Annabelle Parsons and my brother’s betrothed from a scandal. We’d both continue the farce until I was of age to marry her on my own whim without causing a big scandal.

Sadly, three days before tragedy, I was caught with my beloved Theresa red-handed in a position I did not mean to put us in.

During a hunt, I was struck by a boar and hurt gravely. On that moment, I hatched another master plan: weeks before, I had been offered to spy for the crown in France, despite Napoleon’s defeat months prior in Waterloo, and my death would bring a shock, hopefully enough to convince the scullery maid to keep quiet so she wouldn’t speak ill of the dead.

With a generous bribe from the loyal Bishop Monroe, she went away, thinking that she had played a part in my death, and was never seen again.

For a year, I did my duty the best I could do despite being only eighteen. During that time, I befriended what I thought it was the Comte Renard, an ally of our country. He saved me from a sure death and I had no option but trust the man. He was quick to deceive me from his true identity, uncovered by my lost sister, Lady Joanna Mills: that he was Gideon Payne, an exiled traitor who had taken part in a coup before. He was soon assassinated and his head sent in a spike to the Prince Regent as a present and token of our loyalty.

She came back with me to England and gave up her right to Edgewater to reign in a magical world called Dracaria. Soon, she uncovered her last secret: her firstborn son, Frederick Coleman, who was born after the death of his father and hidden away to avoid scandal, though the tale does have some holes in it, but never once said anything, for he proved to be her son, and a Foredale to the boot as well.

In a winter’s day, I married Theresa, who was expecting our first child together. We went on to have seven more: Victoire, Vincent, Dominique, Charles, Anne, Lionel and Isobel. We indeed enjoyed a healthy and active married life, making thus sure that our line did not die out so easily as when I was younger, where I was the only hope.

My name is Harry, and at aged nineteen, I was made Earl of Edgewater, as my father had wished. I am his only son by blood, his heir, and hero of England. I am Harry, the prodigal son, the gifted and golden child who, after much trouble, became what I was destined to be, with the inspiration of my sister Joanna, who was as well a reluctant leader in her own right. I am Harry, the best-known saviour of England of the Foredale family, and this is my tale.

#playchoices fanfiction #desire and decorum #desire and decorum au #the cursed heiress #viscount harry foredale #theresa sutton #mr edmund marlcaster #oc: joanna mills #tw: death mention #tw: grief mention #tw: suggestive themes #tw: strong language #cfwc fics of the week

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