Page 11 of The Rest is History
She opens her mouth. ‘But I have green eyes,’ she blurts out.
I stifle a smile. What I want to say istell me something I don’t know.
I could write a PhD thesis on the nuances of Elodie’s eyes. By the way, to call them merely green is to undersell them criminally.
I also want to tell her that it’s less about the similarity of her features (Anne’s eyes were well documented as being almost black, and we know her skin was far more sallow than Elodie’s is) and more about the power she wields with them.
I gesture to myself. ‘I think we’ve established that physical similarities are less important than one’s ability to get into the characters.’
She makes a little moue with her mouth. ‘Very true. So… how does it all work? Is it, like, you hanging with all your queens?’
‘God, no.’ The idea of ‘hanging’ with six women all Saturday long would be enough to finish me off. ‘We all tend to wander around and mingle with the visitors, especially in the Great Hall—we tend to stay in Henry’s apartments or the Clock Court or Base Court.
‘But the queens will often pair off. The tourists get a kick out of seeing them interact. And… Henry and Anne do usually stick together, to be honest. Theirs is the pairing people come to see.’ I sigh. ‘You’d better get used to having your photo taken.’
Her pink, perfect lips part a little. ‘Pairing? Like… so, what would that entail, exactly?’
‘That we process around together. And… interact.’
She raises an eyebrow. ‘Interact?’
‘Yeah. You know. A little light banter. In character, of course. With each other and with the punters.’
‘And you want me to do this. Me. I mean, it’s not like we have much interaction at school.’ She makes quote signs with her fingers when she saysinteraction.
I stiffen. Of course, she makes a valid point. I can’t imagine how cold she thinks me. How unfriendly.
But her low opinion is better than the alternative.
‘That’s not how it will be when we’re in character. You’ll see.’ I throw down a challenge, because what little I know of this woman tells me there’s no way she’ll refuse a challenge from her pompous, stick-in-the-mud head of the department. ‘Are you concerned you won’t be able to manage it? Because you did tell me in your interview that you were a Tudor expert, if you recall.’
Her eyes narrow.
I’ve got her.
‘Of course I can manage it,’ she huffs. ‘It sounds like good fun. As long as you can manage to produce some personality from God knows where and not leave me hanging. I can’t carry the whole thing by myself.’
My lips twitch. I wish she’d stand up to me more often. It’s hot.
Actually, scratch that.
It’s too hot.
It’s the last thing I need.
‘I promise I’m far more fun as Henry than I am as myself.’ I push my chair back to indicate that I consider the matter closed.
She stands up. Looks down at me. Slim and willowy and fucking gorgeous in a long, floaty dress with a modest V at the chest and a million buttons.
I’d delight in undoing every single one.
The prize at the end would be worth every second of the torture.
‘You’d better be.’ She turns away, and my desperate gaze latches onto the nape of her neck. Much as I love her hair loose, the days she wears it tied up are the days I live for. ‘Seriously, Charlie. Or I’ll be the one beheading you.’
ELODIE
‘I have a new Saturday job.’ I put the pan of pasta on the hob and turn on the heat. ‘And it’s… interesting.’
