Work Text:
December 24, 1950
This wasn't really the Colonel's retirement party. There had been plenty of time for that in England, with all the pomp and circumstance befitting a man of his station and reputation. This was a much more private affair, if raucous parties could be considered such, arranged by the Montmaravians to pay tribute to a great friend and ally of Montmaray.
It was also a really good excuse to get everyone together on the island for Christmas.
Staying in London would have made more sense, since everyone was there already, but Toby had insisted that a proper celebration could only be held in Montmaray and that was the end of the discussion. The fact that everyone was tired, ready for a long rest and hadn't actually disputed Toby's official royal order helped him win that particular one-sided argument.
The weather outside wasn't the standard Christmas fare of quiet snow flittering down. This time of year, the winds were high and made sharp noises against the windows of the castle. The snow was actually more like icy rain. Even the sea had decided to kick up enough of a fuss that anyone approaching the island would likely end up with the rest of the shipwrecks off the coast of Montmaray.
The castle renovations, started after the War, were now complete. The partygoers inside were safely warm and comfortable, a far cry from Montmaravian winters of old, and happily enjoying a quiet evening as the party wound down. The children were asleep and tucked into bed upstairs where Toby, Veronica and Sophie had slept when they were young. The remaining group were scattered amongst the plush sofas and chairs around the room in groups of two and three, their quiet chatter punctuated only by the occasional burst of laughter.
Julia excused herself for the rest of the evening, claiming fatigue. Everyone in the room who was a parent understood completely. Simon stood and placed a kiss on Julia's cheek to see her off, then sat back down next to Veronica. Perhaps it was the wine, the late hour or the day of chasing children around, but it didn’t occur to Simon that he would now have to have a proper one-on-one conversation with Veronica until he’d already settled into his seat. Not that he disliked talking to Veronica, not at all. They simply didn’t have much time to talk with Simon’s real estate work and Veronica’s dedication to the Foreign Office keeping them at a distance. Simon felt out of his depth as he thought of something to say. Veronica beat him to it.
“Have you considered my proposal about the new housing community?”
“Have you considered my proposal about not being quite so socialist?”
Ah, there was the comfortable spot. Bickering. They were suddenly back on even footing.
“I considered it,” Veronica replied, “which was a serious compromise on my account considering I would normally hear that sort of pointless comment from you and brush it off like usual.”
Simon smoothed out his trouser leg and considered her barb. “What was the outcome?”
“Still incredibly socialist. And the outcome of my proposal?”
“Still incredibly capitalist.” That was that. “Talk to Sophie,” he added. “If you can find a more suitable property than the Lanford one, we’ll see about a large complex of flats.”
Veronica, for once, was satisfied with the answer. She knew she would have to bring it up again at least a few more times for the housing complex to make its way to the financial ledger rather than remain as a half-hearted agreement from Simon most likely intended to get her to be quiet about it already. “You do realise I’m not going to go and speak to Sophie about it now, leaving you to your own devices.”
“I’d hoped, but…” Simon offered a small smile with his shrug and accepted his fate. His fate lasted only a moment and then he realised he could change the subject. “How is the Foreign Office taking the Colonel’s retirement?”
“Semi-retirement.”
“They won’t let him go?”
“He won’t let them go. Retirement is a formality, I suspect,” Veronica said, watching as the Colonel and Sophie were in a huddled conference across the room. “The new regulations and staff changes brought in last year mean a lot of men who think they’re very important wanting to get rid of actually important men and women who do their jobs very well.”
“So they can seem like they’re making change for future, or whatever the latest short-lived slogan is?”
“I’m all for change,” Veronica insisted. She was making plenty of them herself, and it wouldn’t be long until she was off on another assignment abroad. “I’m not for change for the sake of change at the hands of some idiot with connections who thinks he knows best.”
“Nothing new there. So the Colonel’s out because he’s old guard?”
“No, he’s out because there are still some sensible men in the upper echelons of the Foreign Office who realise that a man not quite inside the organisation can do a lot more than one with his hands tied by-“
“Poorly educated miscreants?”
“I was going to use stronger language.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Simon fell quiet for a moment. “He could always work for us. Montmaray, I mean.”
“You say that as if he hasn’t been all these years.”
“Not on the official payroll. I would have noticed.”
“The Colonel has never needed a paycheque signed by the King of Montmaray to keep Montmaray’s best interests at heart.”
Simon nodded in agreement. The Colonel was as Montmaravian as the rest of them in deed if not by birth. “Seems fitting that he’s family now.”
“He was family long before any Stanley-Ross married a FitzOsborne.”
“I wonder if he knew what he was getting into when he became involved with us.”
“You don’t always choose your family,” Veronica replied. “But we make do with what we have.”
Simon suppressed a snort. That was almost affection in her voice. They shared a knowing look. They did indeed make do with what they had, and they managed well enough.
Across the room, Sophie excused herself for the night and everyone called out their farewells. The Colonel came across to Simon and Veronica and settled himself onto a chair opposite them. “You seemed to be having quite the engaging conversation. What was the topic if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Family,” Simon said.
“Your retirement,” Veronica admitted at the same time.
Simon conceded with a slight shrug of one shoulder. “Veronica was telling me you have some interesting retirement plans.”
“Well,” the Colonel said, his usual enigmatic smile in place, “the Soviets are busy.”
“Doing things the British disapprove of,” Veronica added.
“Being interesting,” the Colonel countered. “And I don’t plan on allowing retirement to stop me from interesting things. Speaking of, Veronica? I wondered if I could borrow you for a moment. I’ve been meaning to ask you about how your Russian lessons have been going.”
Simon eyed them both, but took the exit that was presented to him. He rose and wandered off to find another drink with thoughts of Veronica and the Colonel taking on the Soviets swirling around in his mind.
Stranger things had happened. They were all living proof of that.