Royal Master

by Emilia Beaumont

  There was a distinct coldness in the air, fresh and jolting, and I was glad I’d brought some of my warmer clothes with me. I was dressed down today in a pair of trousers that would pass as smart if needed, and several layers up top including a cosy sweater. Faux riding boots completed my outfit and protected my trousers from the soft wet ground. I mostly kept to the gravelled paths, but sometimes I’d find a need to wander across the grass, exploring the colourful boundaries of the gardens.

  It had rained practically non-stop since I’d arrived two days ago, and I’d taken every chance I got to leave the manor when there was a break in the clouds. Morvyn Manor was much smaller, comparatively speaking, than most of the residences owned by the royal family. Just a ten room home situated on acres of rolling green hills, with the loch twinkling in the distance. My time indoors was a little unnerving. And though there wasn't many rooms, each of them was vast and I felt a bit spooked at being the only person in there.

  But I’d kept myself occupied—best thing for mending a broken heart, I thought—and made everything spic and span, restocked the pantry and made sure fresh linens were on hand for the Marchioness of Haven’s arrival. The work wasn’t exactly what I was used to, I was more comfortable arranging calendars, organising schedules and vast amounts of correspondence but there was something to be said for getting your hands dirty.

  In the evenings I spent my time in the comfortable library that was crammed full of leather bound books and soft worn chairs, or in one of the parlours in front of an ancient telly attempting not to dwell on the thoughts I’d kept at bay during the day. But it was like my worries knew I was at my most vulnerable when the sun set and my work was done, and I’d replay all my moments with William all over again, my heart cracking apart like brittle concrete each time.

  Turning back to look at the manor, I contemplated what was next for me as I walked along the path, gravel crunching loudly under my boots. What would I do after my two weeks notice was up? I had some savings squirrelled away to keep the wolf at bay for a few months so I didn’t have to go looking for a new job as soon as my two weeks were up. But eventually I would have to put myself out there, before the gap between jobs became too noticeable. Explaining that to a prospective employer wasn’t appealing. Yet I knew I had to give myself time; perhaps I’d even stay with my mum for a while, I thought.

  It would be good to see her properly, unlike the fleeting visits that had come before. But then I imagined her reaction and what her face would look like if I told her why I was there. I hadn’t even told her about my resignation yet, not wanting to hear the disappointment in her voice. I owed her everything and felt like an utter failure that I couldn’t keep my professional and personal feelings separate. She’d obviously managed it in all her years in service, so why couldn’t I?

  But I knew why. Will wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met; he was special. And ignoring him and the way he made me feel had been impossible.

  I winded my way past empty trellises and bare soil towards the kitchen garden gate that was set into a low stonewall on the side of the house. Luckily there was no latch on it so there was no chance of me locking myself in and starving to death before anyone found me. I still had four days before the marchioness would make an appearance so no one would be coming to my rescue if anything should happen.

  And yet the distinct sound of a car rumbling up the long drive caught my attention and I rounded the house, wondering if I’d somehow lost track of the days or gotten the date wrong for her arrival. Surely not. Love hadn’t obliterated my brains cells quite yet.

  A gleaming town car advanced like a dark omen and I clutched myself, scared of what it might mean. There was one lone person up front in the car but I couldn’t make out who. If it was the marchioness she would be tucked away in the back, she wouldn’t be driving herself. The car stopped and I tried to peer inside, but could only see the faint outline of the driver. Tall build and a set of strong shoulders. My stomach flipped over and I stumbled back. No. It couldn’t be him.

  I was readying myself for the confrontation with William that would no doubt ensue, but then a voice called from a lowering window in the back. “Cooee! It’s just me. Thought you might like some company, out here all alone.”

  Twenty-Five

  William

  “Who?” Mum asked, completely out of the loop.

  “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

  “Yes, but you will,” I directed at my father, “because if you want me to play the dutiful heir then this is what it’s going to take. It’s my turn to dish out the ultimatums.”

  A sad smile crossed my father’s face; he almost looked haunted. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  He let out a long breath then continued as if still debating whether or not to tell me. “She’s in Inverness.”

  “You sent her to fucking Scotland? Why the hell would you do that?” I shouted, but I knew why. The distance was the perfect barrier. I was expecting her to be within a few minutes of London, a short drive away, and able to see her immediately and get this whole mess cleared up before the sun set. But Inverness was a nine hour car ride, a long journey, and unless I could persuade my father to allow me to take the royal jet or sneak onto a British Airways plane it wouldn’t be till the morning that I’d be able to see her sweet face again. It would also give me time to think, and I expected that was what my father was counting on.

  “Will someone tell me what on earth is going on? Who on earth are we talking about?” my mum demanded, rising out of her chair with confusion and impatience, hands on her hips.

  “I sent Sophie to Inverness,” my father said gently. “She turned in her resignation a few days ago and I asked her to work her notice. I offered her to go open Morvyn Manor for the time being.”

  My mum frowned still not understanding. “But why would you do that? We aren’t due there until the end of the month—”

  “I am fully aware of our plans, Beatrice,” The king interrupted, his smile beginning to reach his eyes, pleased with himself. “I told her that Gertie would be arriving ahead of us and I needed someone to open the home.”

  It was my turn to frown this time. “But I just passed Aunt Gertie earlier on her way to afternoon tea with Vicky.”

  He sighed. “I did it for you, son,” he said. “To keep her out of harm’s way but still within your grasp. Sophie is waiting at Morvyn for Gertie, so she won’t be going anywhere.”

  I finally understood what he had done. He had set up a chance for me to make up with Sophie if I chose to.

  “Whatever did you do that for, Henry?” Mum asked, looking back and forth between the two of us, studying our faces and my broadening smile. And then it hit her too and she sat back down with a heavy sigh.

  “Thanks, Father,” I said and got to my feet.

  “Wait. You are not seriously condoning this are you, Henry? No matter how great she is you can’t just let him go to her and ruin his prospects… his future. We have our reputation and standards to uphold. This is not proper,” she blustered, her hand making its way to her chest.

  “We will discuss this later, Beatrice,” he said, dismissing my mum’s concerns and pushed up out of his chair then rounded the desk, his hand extended towards me. “Good luck, son. You’ll only get one shot, make it count.”

  I shook his hand, a whole new awareness now flooding through my veins. I had a second chance. My mum kept her distance, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, William,” she said softly, “I can’t give you my blessing on this one.”

  “Mum?” I said reaching out to her, hoping to explain the love I felt in my heart for Sophie, but she shied away and shook her head again. A dart of pain ran through me. My own mother couldn’t get over her own pride and station and allow me to be happy. I hesitated; standing conflicted in my father’s offer, pleading with my eyes that she would see sense.

  My father rested a hand on my shoulder, gave m
e an encouraging smile and whispered, “Go. She’ll come around. This, her reaction, isn’t really about you… Your mum will get used to the idea when it becomes real. I’ll handle the red-tape. So, if Sophie is the one you want, then I won’t stand in your way.”

  I looked at my parents, wishing for a small minute that Frederick were standing with them too. On my side and encouraging me on. But if Rick had been with us, I wouldn’t be going after Sophie. In all likelihood we would’ve never got to know each other, or gotten so close. His death had changed my life in more ways than one.

  With my thoughts now on Sophie I wound my way through the palace racking my brain on how exactly I was going to convince her that we belonged together and how we could work. It wasn’t going to be an easy task but I knew I couldn’t live without her. She was my future and I was going to fight for real this time until I had exhausted every option.

  At least I knew one thing for sure, I wouldn’t be going to her as the heir to the royal throne. I would be going as plain ol’ Will, the man who loved the hell out of her, the man that was going to make her happy for the rest of her life.

  Firstly, I made a quick call, thinking fast on my feet, and convinced the person on the other end of the line to do what I needed. Take a little detour in my favour and surprisingly she was happy to do it. Loved the idea in fact.

  We click off and a second later my phone buzzed. I was about to ignore it, more important things on my mind, when I saw Jeremy’s number flash up on the screen and got another great idea. I answered the call.

  “Finally! Bloody hell you are hard to get a hold of nowadays. What have you been up to?”

  “Oh you know, bowing and scraping, keeping the king happy, doing his bidding in Monaco.”

  “Right,” he replied dubiously. “Such a hardship being in the company of a Princess. You should’ve given me a heads up so I could’ve joined you. She’s got plenty of ladies in waiting that you could’ve introduced me to.”

  “I think they have standards, Jeremy,” I shot back.

  “You can’t keep them all to yourself you know. How did it go anyway? Rumours are that they’ll be wedding bells in your future.”

  “No, well… maybe. Not with Annabelle though.”

  “Oh? Did I miss something?”

  “You could say that,” I said as I finally entered my office. My very empty office, I noted.

  All of her belongings were gone. Even the towering cubes of multi-coloured Post-it notes that used to be stacked up neatly by her computer were nowhere to be seen. The only thing remaining of Sophie’s was her perfume, lingering like an illusive dream.

  “So, what were you calling for anyway? Cause I might need your help.”

  “Oh really? What?”

  “You first.”

  “Thought you might miss me,” Jeremy said with a laugh. “Nah, I had some free time and fancied throwing myself off a cliff. Wanna come?”

  “I have a better idea,” I said with a smile. “You still have your plane, right? Not the jet. The other one…”

  “Always. Why, where are we going?” he asked hesitantly, but I could tell he was grinning like a fool.

  “Scotland.”

  Twenty-Six

  Sophie

  “Well don’t just stand there on ceremony, let’s get the kettle on,” Charlotte said as she was helped out of the car by her chauffeur. Spots of rain had started and as if out of nowhere the chauffeur produced an umbrella to save the princess’ perfectly coiffed hair.

  “My, this place hasn’t changed a bit,” she continued a little wistfully, looking up at the stone building from beneath her shelter.

  “Your Highness,” I spluttered, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “No, of course you weren’t. A last minute decision,” she said and hooked her arm in mine, taking charge. “Who were you expecting, though?” Before I could speak she answered for me, “My infuriating brother perhaps, William?”

  “No, no… Wait, why would you think that?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she said. “I haven’t been keeping up to date with all the comings and goings lately. Too busy with my own schedule. Come on, let’s get a cuppa and I can tell you all about it.”

  More stunned than anything at her sudden appearance and eagerness to have a chinwag I let her lead us into the house, making a beeline for the kitchen.

  “It’s incredible, it’s exactly how I remember it. Not one little bit has changed. There’s that cranky old AGA range. A devil to turn on. Oh, and look: the place where Will dropped a really heavy baking bowl and cracked the floor tile in the process.” She leaned in as if she were about to tell me a huge secret. “We were trying to steal the leftover chocolate batter from under the cook’s nose, but of course we got caught and it all went horribly wrong. We didn’t get any cakes for a month after that. Which is a really big deal when you’re four.”

  I smiled fondly at the princess, enjoying the tale, and the little titbit of information about William’s childhood, and her’s of course. “He must have been about ten, right?”

  She nodded. “I think so. Maybe eleven. I can’t remember if it was before or after the twins’ birthday.”

  A pleasant silence descended upon the room. Charlotte with her own nostalgic thoughts and mine now back on William, again. I brewed the tea and found a packet of bourbon biscuits and arranged them on a plate, wondering if the princess still had a hankering for chocolate after her story.

  I took the items on a tray into the sitting room and we arranged ourselves around a small side table with two wingback chairs angled next to it. I pushed the plate of biscuits towards her.

  “Oh, not for me, thanks.”

  “I can get you something else if you like, if you’re hungry?”

  “No, I’m fine. I had a big lunch at the Waldorf in Edinburgh.”

  Trying not to let the awkwardness of her impromptu arrival and my nerves get the best of me, especially lately since she seemed be opening the door for us to be friendly with each other, I asked, “Charlotte, why are you here? You said so yourself, your schedule is packed, so why come here? To see me?”

  “You don’t beat around the bush do you?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t mean any offense—”

  “Nonsense,” she said smiling, “I’m not offended. I like it when people get to the point. Small talk can be so tiresome.”

  I nodded and waited for her to answer my question, my suspicions rising. She bit her lip as a sneaky smile appeared on her face, as if she were trying to stop it from spreading. Would Will really put his sister up to come and check on me? And if so, for what purpose? We were over before it even began. His life was with Annabelle now, and getting any other royals involved in the scandal probably wouldn’t be the greatest idea.

  “Well, I was in the neighbourhood…”

  “No you were not,” I said with a little laugh. “Edinburgh is miles away.”

  She shrugged. “No, truly, I had time some time to kill before the charity fashion show tonight.”

  “Mhm,” I murmured, unconvinced. Though doubts were starting to creep in that I was being too sceptical of the princess and her motivations. Maybe she had just decided to pop by, since she was relatively close, to be kind. Or more likely to see the manor that she seemed rather nostalgic about. Her trip might have nothing at all to do with me after all. I wasn’t that important in the great scheme of things and her busy life, and to be fair we weren’t exactly close friends. I’d helped her out one time, and I was under no illusions that it didn’t automatically make us bosom buddies.

  “Will the marchioness be joining us soon?” I asked cautiously.

  “Aunt Gertie? I shouldn’t expect so… she hates the rain. Barely leaves her own apartments nowadays. Though she dotes on Victoria whenever she can. But of course Vicky is in London. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no reason,” I said, trying to mask my surprise.

  “I mean it’s not out of the realm of possibility, she can be a bit unpredictabl
e,” Charlotte quickly corrected herself as if she’d just realised the faux pas she’d made. Then she quickly changed the subject. “You know everyone is still talking about that dress you wore, and more importantly that dance.”

  I blushed and dipped my gaze, hoping she’d move on to another topic. But of course it seemed like all Rothchester’s were out to torture me, and she kept on reliving the moment of a lifetime.

  “You looked stunning. I still can’t believe William did it. Quite the little scandal. Well, maybe that’s not true… I’m not that surprised, to be honest,” she said trailing off.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh don’t play coy with me. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  “Who? William?”

  “Yes, of course William!”

  “No, you’re mistaken… there’s nothing—”

  “There’s everything between you two. What I don’t understand is why you’re not going for it.”

  I swallowed and put down the biscuit I was about to nibble, my appetite gone. Then I turned to her, my face serious. “Even if that were true—which I’m not saying it is—it doesn’t matter. And I apologise in advance if I sound rude, but have you quite forgotten who you are talking about? He’s a prince… and not just any prince. He’ll be king someday! And I am a nobody!” I said getting to my feet, almost forgetting myself and who I was speaking too.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you, Charlotte.”

  “Sit down, Sophie. Please.”

  I did as she requested and she took my hand.

  “You love him, don’t you? With all your heart?”

  There was no way I could answer that question without dissolving into a puddle of tears, so I stayed quiet.