Royal

Home > Fiction > Royal > Page 4
Royal Page 4

by Danielle Steel


  “Don’t be silly,” she brushed off the compliment. “My sisters are much prettier than I am, especially Victoria. She’s a real beauty.” Something occurred to him then, an odd coincidence.

  “Did your parents name the three of you after the royal princesses?” He had never thought of it before, and the question startled her. She was silent for a moment and then shrugged.

  “I imagine they did. I never gave it any thought.”

  “It can’t be an easy life, being royal,” he mused. “I would hate it. All those official events they must have to attend. And you have to behave all the time.”

  “I suppose so,” she said vaguely, and then threw a handful of water at him to distract him, which proved to be effective. They got back in the stream again and swam some more. They were both smiling when they got out, and dried off in their bathing suits, and Charlotte noticed him looking down at her. He was very tall, which made her feel even more diminutive next to him, and before she could say anything, he slipped his arms around her, pulled her close to him, and kissed her. He hadn’t meant to do it, but couldn’t stop himself. A wave of passion for her had just washed over him. At first she was too shocked to react. Then she melted into his arms and kissed him back. When they stopped, she stood staring at him with a serious look in her eyes. She seemed even more beautiful to him.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked in barely more than a whisper, and she was stunned at herself for responding so readily. She had never been kissed by a boy before.

  “Because I’m in love with you, Charlotte, and I wanted you to know it. I’m going away soon, in a couple of months. I didn’t want to leave without your knowing how I feel about you. Maybe we could get engaged before I go,” he said hopefully, sounding innocent and childlike, and a ripple of fear and reality ran down her spine.

  “I can’t do that. My parents have never met you.”

  “Could we go to London to see them?” he suggested naïvely.

  “You know we’re not supposed to travel. We can’t just go running down to London to see them, and they can’t come here. They’re too busy. If we ever get engaged, it would have to be after the war.” He looked disappointed, but willing to accept it. People were not moving around the country with ease, so she made sense. “Besides, we’re too young. We’re both just seventeen,” she reminded him.

  “I’ll be eighteen soon, and you’ll be eighteen next year.”

  “That’s too young to get engaged. My parents would be upset,” she said sensibly. She hesitated for a moment then, and looked at him. He could see that she wanted to say something more, but he had no idea what it was. “Besides, there are things you don’t know about me, about my parents, and my family. Maybe things you wouldn’t like.” He was surprised by that and tried to guess.

  “Has your father ever been to prison? Has he murdered someone?” he teased her and she shook her head. “Is he a spy? Or a German?” She hesitated then and nodded.

  “Not a spy, but we have German ancestors, quite a lot of them in fact.” The British royal house and her family tree had been heavily intertwined with Germans for centuries. Most of the Windsors, including Queen Victoria, were originally Saxe-Coburg-Gothas. There were German Coburgs on every throne and in nearly every royal house in Europe.

  “My parents wouldn’t like that, about your having German relatives,” he admitted. And then he looked at her. “I don’t care what skeletons you have in your closet, and I don’t care that your father doesn’t have a title, if you’re worried about that. My parents would prefer it if he did, but they’re falling in love with you too. And if we marry, you’ll have my title one day.” She smiled. It never dawned on him for an instant that she might have a title herself, far more important than his. “None of that makes any difference to me, and it shouldn’t to you.” He kissed her again then, and in spite of her concerns, she kissed him with abandon, and they were both breathless when they stopped.

  “We should get back,” Charlotte said modestly. “I promised to help Lucy set the table when she finishes with your mother in the garden.” She put her riding clothes over her wet bathing suit and he did the same, and he gave her a leg up onto her powerful stallion. The horses had stood peacefully by, tied to the tree, grazing on the grass. His mare and her stallion were fast friends by now, and always pleased to see each other on their morning rides.

  On the way back, Henry looked at her curiously. “Were there other things you wanted to tell me?” he asked her cautiously. He had a feeling that there were, and there were things she wasn’t saying that were weighing on her. She shook her head. She didn’t feel ready to tell him who her parents were. It was too big a secret to share so soon. He knew her only as Charlotte White, the daughter of a civil servant and a secretary in London. She knew he would be profoundly shocked by the truth. She would have to tell him eventually, but not yet. And his parents knew, even if he didn’t.

  They left their horses in the stable, and hurried into the house. It was later than they’d thought, and there was suddenly an unspoken intimacy between them that one could sense, now that he had kissed her. Lucy was aware of it when they walked into the kitchen, and Henry’s mother when she saw them that night. As time went on, she worried more and more. They were so close and so comfortable with each other. Too much so, in her opinion. And Lucy was mournful and silent all evening. She felt left out by the two of them, as though they had a secret from her.

  That night, Charlotte sat at her desk in front of a blank page for a long time, wanting to tell her mother about him, but she hated to do it in a letter, and wasn’t sure what to say. That she loved him? That he loved her? That he wanted to ask for her hand one day? Perhaps they could make a pact just between the two of them before he left, and then get engaged after the war. But he had to meet her parents first. She was thinking about it, and still hadn’t started the letter to her mother when she heard a soft knock on her door. She tiptoed to it, and opened it a crack, and Henry was standing on the other side, in the moonlight, and smiled at her.

  “I wanted to kiss you good night,” he whispered. “Can I come in?”

  “You shouldn’t,” she said, her heart pounding with excitement, but opened the door anyway. He walked in quickly on silent feet, and closed it behind him, and an instant later she was in his arms, and they were kissing again. His kissing her that afternoon by the stream had changed everything between them, and his admissions about his hopes for them had opened the floodgates that had been closed until then.

  “I love you, Charlotte,” he whispered in the dark. Her whole body was shaking when she answered him. She didn’t want Lucy to hear him in her room.

  “I love you too,” she whispered back. “Now you have to go.” No matter how much she loved him, she didn’t want to do anything foolish, and after several more kisses, reluctantly, he left. She didn’t write to her mother that night, but lay down on her bed, thinking about him. She closed her eyes for a minute, her heart full of him, and it was morning when she woke up.

  They all went to church in the village that day, and Charlotte earnestly prayed not to do anything with him that she’d regret, and even more earnestly that he’d survive the war, and nothing bad would happen to him. Lucy had gone to church with them, and they all had lunch in the garden afterward, in the part that Lucy and the countess had worked hard to clear the day before, and the countess praised how hard she had worked, which cheered her up a bit. Afterward, Henry and Charlotte took a long, slow walk down to the small lake near the house. There was a larger one they often rode to. They didn’t invite Lucy to come and she looked hurt.

  “I meant what I said yesterday, you know,” he said seriously to Charlotte once they were alone. “I’d like to get engaged before I leave, and I want to marry you one day, after the war. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with your parents, if you think they’d be angry at your getting engaged to someone they
don’t know.” He had thought about it all night, and in church, and so had she. “Do you think I should write to them, to ask their permission?”

  She almost shuddered at the thought. “They’d be very angry if we got engaged without their meeting you. And I don’t think you should write to them. I know they would say we’re too young.” It was true. “I want you to meet them. But there won’t be any opportunity before you go. We talked about why. They can’t come here, and we can’t go to London, so we have to wait.” She was very firm about it. There was no way they could get engaged now. “They’re much too busy at their jobs.”

  Henry narrowed his eyes then, and smiled at her, as they sat down on the grass. “I think your father must be a spy of some kind. You’re very mysterious about him. Does he work for MI5 or MI6?” He was fascinated by military intelligence himself and she laughed and shook her head.

  “No,” she said simply, “and he’s not a spy. I told you he works for the government.” But she knew Henry would have keeled over if she said he was the king, and probably not believe her.

  “That doesn’t explain anything. He could be a mailman for all I know.” She laughed.

  “He’s not a mailman. I can promise you that. He serves his country and the people of Great Britain, and he’s very dedicated to his job.”

  “He sounds like a good person.”

  “He is,” she said solemnly, “and I think he will like you very much. And so will my mama. And Alexandra, my older sister. I can’t tell about Victoria. She’ll probably hate you because you’re my friend. Victoria never approves of anything I do, just to be difficult.”

  “I want to be more than your friend,” he said and kissed her and they lay side by side in the grass and he pressed his body against her, and despite all her resolve, she didn’t resist or stop him, as his hand slipped under her dress. No one could see them in the tall grass, but she was afraid that what she was doing was wrong, and knew it was, but it was impossible to resist him. Suddenly, all she wanted was to be with him, and lie in his arms.

  They walked back to the house with his arm around her shoulders, and they looked as though they were lost in another world. Fortunately, no one was around when they returned. His parents were taking a nap, and Lucy was in the kitchen, helping to prepare dinner. They had both regained their composure when they sat down for their evening meal with the others.

  He knocked on her door again that night, and she let him in, and they lay on her bed and kissed and fondled each other for a long time, and she finally forced herself to stop and whispered to him that he had to leave and was sorry when he did.

  His late visits to her room became a nightly occurrence, and they inched closer and closer to the edge of reason day by day. She couldn’t stop him anymore and didn’t want to, and the inevitable finally happened. The heat wave had persisted, and it was steaming hot in her room, right under the roof. He slowly peeled away the thin cotton dress she was wearing one night and she took off his shirt. The feel of their skin touching ignited like dynamite, and suddenly their clothes were on the floor and they were naked in each other’s arms and couldn’t stop this time. All they wanted was each other. They did everything they could not to make any noise and their lovemaking was exquisite agony as their bodies joined with all the passion and tenderness they felt for each other. There was no lock on her door, and Charlotte was terrified someone would come in and discover them, but no one did. No one ever came to her room at night except Henry. Lucy was a heavy sleeper and heard nothing from next door.

  Henry finally tore himself away from her, and left her just before the sun came up. Before that, they lay in bed awake, after they made love, talking about the future they would share, and all the things they would do together after the war, once they were married. He wanted to take her to Paris for their honeymoon. The birds were already singing, as though celebrating their union. Charlotte knew she was his now forevermore, and whatever would come, she was ready to face it at his side. She could survive anything now, with the added strength of his love. Their youthful passion and desire had overtaken them and they became adults in a single night.

  She sat quietly at breakfast the next day, with a dazed look on her face. Henry had already left for the farms, and his mother thought that Charlotte looked strange.

  “Are you all right? Are you ill?” Charlotte shook her head, and didn’t say a word. All she could think of was what had happened the night before. She had no regrets and only wanted more. The countess was alarmed at how remote she seemed and disconnected from everyone around her. She tried speaking to her husband, who once again laughed at her concerns.

  “Even if they fancy themselves in love,” he reassured her, “it doesn’t mean anything at their age.”

  “It’s different in wartime, George. There’s a kind of desperation that sets in when people are no longer sure how long they’ll live.”

  “They’ll both live a long time, and fall in love many times after this. This is child’s play, my dear. You have no cause for concern.” He didn’t see the looks in their eyes when they gazed at each other, but his wife did. Charlotte went to bed early that night, and they made love again as soon as they thought everyone was asleep. They were noisier this time than they meant to be. Lucy woke up with a start when she thought she heard a muffled scream. She heard the floorboards creak an hour or so later, opened her door a crack and peered out. She saw Henry tiptoeing to the stairs, with his shirt off, wearing only his pajama bottoms, and guessed instantly what it meant. She closed her door just as softly, with a deep anger burning inside her, and raw hatred for both of them. She felt cheated of all her dreams. Charlotte had stolen them from her. Lucy didn’t know what she would do about it, but she knew her time would come one day to get even with them.

  As it turned out, retribution came in another form, within weeks. A month later, Charlotte appeared at breakfast looking green. She rushed away from the table within minutes and was violently ill. When the countess came to her bedroom afterward, Charlotte told her that she felt sure she had eaten something spoiled the night before. The countess was worried and sympathetic, and offered to call the doctor, but Charlotte insisted she was fine and it wasn’t serious.

  Two weeks later, in mid-September, she was just as ill, even more violently than she had been at first. She hadn’t been out on Pharaoh in weeks, and despite their innocence, both Charlotte and Henry could guess what had happened. The waistband of her skirt was already tight, and she was so nauseous, she could barely eat. The only time she felt better was in Henry’s arms. He spent every night with her now, and didn’t want to leave her feeling so ill.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked him one night, as tears slid down her cheeks. There was no doubt in their minds. She was six weeks pregnant by their calculations. She must have gotten pregnant immediately. They were both young and healthy, and nature had taken the upper hand once they lost control. Now they would have to ride the wave until the end. Or she would. He was leaving soon. His birthday was only weeks away, in October, and the army would take him soon after.

  “We have to tell my mother,” he said, sounding determined. “She’ll know what to do. Do you think something is wrong that you’re so sick?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never known anyone who had a baby, and my mother never talks about things like that. We should really tell her too. But I don’t want to tell her in a letter, and we can’t just show up in London and give her this news. It would kill her, and my father too.” And they had told her not to call them, the lines weren’t secure, and there were always many people listening on the lines at the palace. Everyone would know instantly, and she would be disgraced.

  “And they’d hate me forever,” he said, worried.

  They told his mother the next day. Like two children who had committed an unpardonable crime, they went to her study together after breakfast and told her the truth. She closed
her eyes for a minute, trying to stay calm, and gather her wits about her. How was she going to face Queen Anne, or worse the king, with this piece of news? They had entrusted her with their daughter, and her son had gotten her pregnant, at seventeen. There had been no sign of her asthma since she’d arrived, but what she had now was much worse. The countess was desperately trying to think about what was the best thing to do in the circumstances, and how to handle it. They were innocent children in a dangerously adult situation, which could easily become the scandal of the century. And Charlotte couldn’t sit down with her parents and discuss it face-to-face. This was wartime, and nothing was simple, let alone for a pregnant seventeen-year-old princess. The countess could guess that her parents would be devastated.

  “Do you want to go home?” she asked Charlotte quietly. It would create a scandal ultimately, but she might prefer to deal with this at home, with her own parents, instead of his.

  “No, I don’t,” she said firmly. “They want me to be here. I know they’ll be furious at first, but maybe the best thing is to tell them afterward. There is nothing they can do about it then.”

  “I’m not sure that’s fair to them,” the countess said sternly, “to confront them with a fait accompli, a love child after the war.” The thought of it made her cringe. She wanted to do the right thing, and so did Henry. He was an honorable young man and deeply in love with Charlotte. They were babies having a baby.

  “I can’t just write to my mother and tell her this, and they don’t want me in London, they want me here. There’s nothing they can do to stop it now.” There were indeed several options, but in her innocence Charlotte was aware of none of them, and an abortion was far too dangerous for a royal princess entrusted to their care, so the countess didn’t suggest it. The countess thought of something else then, which might mitigate the circumstances somewhat when they would finally have to face the king and queen.

 

‹ Prev